Chapter Text
Jack was having a relaxing evening when he got the phone call. He was sunk deep into the couch, legs crossed on the coffee table, his prosthetic already off for the evening, a beer in hand, and a Pens game on. They were down 3-1 in the first period when his phone started ringing in the kitchen.
A streak of anxiety ran through him. Only two people would call him at this time of night. Robby or the Hospital, and in either case, it was because something was wrong. Silently cursing himself for turning his police scanner off for the night, he made his way into the kitchen with his forearm crutches.
He was apparently a little too slow because by the time he got to his phone, it stopped ringing. Checking the number, Jack creased his brow in confusion; it was an unknown number. Probably just some spam call or something, but it did have a Pittsburgh area code. Before he could think about it anymore, the same number called back. Must be for him. Without thinking too hard, he answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Abbot?” said a male voice on the other end. He was obviously shouting over the loud music in the background.
“Who's asking?”
“Can you come pick up your friend? He’s three sheets to the wind, and when I took his keys away, he got all pissed off and started a fight with the bouncer.” He sounded exasperated.
“My friend? Who, Robby?”
“No, well, maybe. He always goes by Mike, but I don't know, probably. Guys here use fake names a lot. I just called his emergency contact, and that's you, buddy. So are you coming or not?”
Jack was so confused. Why was Robby at some bar getting plastered alone? And why was it a place where people used fake names? As for being his emergency contact, he guesses he's not surprised. Robby didn't have any family left, and he was probably his closest friend.
“Uh.. yeah, sure, what bar?”
“Blue Moon”
What? That can't be right, the Blue Moon was a drag and gay bar.
“Blue Moon? Are you sur-”
The annoyed bartender promptly cut him off. “Look, man, are you coming or not, because I could have just called the cops for assaulting our bouncer. But, he's normally a nice guy, we're not going to hold him here forever though.”
“Okay, okay, relax. I'm on the way, I'll be there in 20 minutes. 30 tops.”
“Fantastic.” He said sarcastically and hung up.
What the fuck? Robby worked the day shift this morning, so maybe he had a rough one, but that still didn't explain why he was at a gay bar. And in a city full of Ubers, what was he doing trying to drive home drunk? Standing on the edge of the roof was one thing, but trying to drive blitzed in the city was a whole different kind of reckless. Plus, Jack thought he was passed most of his suicidal tendencies. He even told him a few months ago that he was going to therapy.
With a billion questions running through his mind, Jack made his way to his bedroom to put on his prosthetic and to dress a little more appropriately. Once he was decent, he grabbed the keys to his truck and headed off to rescue his friend.
__________
On the way to the bar, Jack could help but ask himself, was Robby gay? Since he knew him, he’d only been with and talked about women. And he knew him for years; surely, he would know by now if he was gay. But why else would he be at a gay bar alone? And from what the bartender said, frequently.
He parked his truck outside the front of the crowded bar and made his way inside. Jack hated clubs; they were too loud, had too many flashing lights, and were too busy. Wow, he must be getting old.
There was no mistaking that the Blue Moon was a gay bar. It was even drag night. He made his way through the crowd of skimpily dressed, sweaty bodies up to the crowded bar. After a while, he finally caught the attention of a bartender.
“Let me guess, some sort of whisky on the rocks?” the bartender winked at him with a smirk.
Jack smirked back. It had been a while since a man openly flirted with him, and honestly…it felt pretty good. “Great guess- “, he looked down at his name tag, “Justin. But I'm actually here looking for my friend.”
Justin gave a mock pout, “Well, that's too bad. What's your friend's name?”
“Robby.”
“Robby? Sorry, not ringing a bell.”
“Oh, sorry, he goes by Mike. Got in some fight with the bouncer?”
“Ohhhh that guy.” Justin cringed. “Right this way.”
As Justin led him through the club, he asked him, “So is Mike your boyfriend?”
That got a chuckle out of Jack. The guy was obviously still trying to flirt with him. “Nope, just a good friend.”
“His loss.” They came up to a closed door at the back of the club. Justin then pulled out a napkin and started writing on it. “Well, if you're ever looking to come back, just let me know, and I'll make sure I'm off work.” Justin handed him a napkin with a phone number on it.
Jack looked down at the phone number in his hand and huffed out another laugh. It felt good to have a man's attention again. A good-looking one at that. “I'll keep that in mind.” He gave him another smile.
As the bartender opened the door, he shoved the napkin into his jacket pocket, easily forgotten with the scene that met his eyes. Behind the door was a dingy and dark office with carpet that looked like it belonged in a 90s motel. In the corner, Robby was slumped, head back and mouth open, in an office chair. Upon further assessment, one of his hands was zip-tied to the arm of the chair; he looked completely dishevelled, and his face was bloody with a black eye that was already starting to swell. A large guy in the corner of the room, who had the words “security” written on his shirt, looked up when he entered.
“What the fuck happened to him? Did you do this?” he directed towards the bouncer. He was instantly pissed off seeing someone had punched his friend in the face.
The man in the corner stood up to speak, “Your buddy here got shitty with the bar staff and then started shoving me, so I took him down a peg. You're lucky no one wants to press charges.” He crossed his arms in an attempt to show authority.
Jack made his way over to Robby, turning on his ‘doctor mode’ to assess Robby’s injuries. Kneeling in front of him, he grabbed him gently by the jaw and turned his head side to side. “How long has he been out for?” Using both thumbs, he felt along his face and cheekbones looking for dislocations or breaks. Everything felt in place. He had a large amount of fresh and dried blood from his scalp down his swollen face and into his beard, which made any cuts or scrapes hard to make out. When he started feeling around his orbital bones on the eye, Robby winced and pulled away, making a small grunting noise. Jack let out a small sigh of relief. At least he was responsive to pain, that's good. He performed a quick neuro check. Both pupils looked equal and reactive. No likely brain bleed then.
“Relax man, he was awake after I hit him. He just fell asleep about five minutes ago. Here-” The bouncer tossed a pair of keys at him. Catching them easily, Jack took a deep breath and tried to remember to be thankful they didn't call the cops or let him drive home. “Thanks for keeping him.” Putting the keys in his pocket, he then took out his pocket knife and cut the zip tie holding his friend to the chair. The sooner they got out of this place, the better. “Come on, Robby, get up brother, we gotta go,” Jack said as he gently shook him by the shoulders. Robby slowly opened his eyes, tried to focus, and then landed on his own. Once his eyes focused, he gave Jack a dopey and toothy smile. The blood in his mouth was a shuddering contrast against his white teeth. “Jack.” Robby pushed his name out like a sigh of relief. Jack couldn't help but smile back. Heat twisted in his belly at the thought of Robby feeling relieved to see him. Being a protector always gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. He gently cupped the unharmed side of Robby’s face with a cool hand. They stared into each other's eyes with mirroring smiles for a couple of seconds too long.
Jack eventually gave Robby a loving double tap to his cheek, breaking the spell. “Alright, upsy daisy.” He swiftly pulled the older man up and into his side, hooking his arm around his back. Robby automatically wrapped his arm around him so Jack could help bear some of his weight. As they made their way to the door, Jack threw a final “thanks” over his shoulder, directed toward the bouncer. The bouncer scoffed and shook his head.
They stumbled their way through the loud club, Jack grumbling the whole way due to taking most of Robby’s weight. “Come on, you have to help a little bit.”
“Sorry.” Robby mumbled under his breath and tried to put all of his effort into walking.
They finally made it outside. The cool Pittsburgh air was a refreshing change from the sticky heat inside the club. Slowly but surely, they made their way to Jack’s truck. They were almost there when Robby’s feet stuttered to a stop. Jack looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
“Gotta piss.” He slurred.
“Really? Right now? Can’t you wait until we get home?”
Robby stared at him blankly for a whole two seconds before he started messing with his zipper.
“WOAH, uh-uh big guy, hold on.” Jack grabbed him by the arm and ushered him quickly to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. He positioned Robby facing the corner that connected the open door to his truck, giving him some privacy. Looking around, only a few people were smoking outside the front of the bar, and no one seemed to be close to them in the parking lot.
“Okay, go ahead.”
When he started fumbling with his zipper this time, he almost fell over. Quickly grabbing him by the shoulders so he wouldn’t fall, Jack groaned. God, drunk people were annoying. While he held him from behind, Robby continued to fumble with his zipper unsuccessfully. Taking pity on him, Jack wrapped his left arm around his friend's torso to hold him, and with his right hand, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Moving his hand up and away from the jeans, he accidentally brushed against the skin of Robby’s lower belly. The skin there felt unbelievably warm and furry. Jack also realized he didn’t feel the band of his underwear. Unable to help himself, he peered down. Quickly looking back up towards the sky, he felt his face heat. Robby wasn't wearing underwear.
Fortunately, for Jack's sanity, Robby was able to pull himself out of his jeans without any more assistance. Unfortunately, the man let out a deep guttural moan as he was finally able to relieve himself. Jack felt like he was going to explode. His hand was still resting on his best friend's lower belly. If he were a stronger man, he would have moved it by now, but he couldn't help himself. Between his hips slotted perfectly against his backside, Robby moaning, and the feeling of the happy trail between his fingers. The universe was definitely testing him, and he was failing. Jack felt the familiar sensation of stirring arousal in his pants, but quickly shut it down.
The mixed feelings in his head were enough to dwindle the arousal. He'd acknowledged his feelings for Robby a long time ago. Jack had also known the man long enough to know he didn't swing that way, at least he thought. But, he'd come here to rescue his friend, not hover over the edge of taking advantage of him. He continued to stare up at the stars and sent a quick prayer up to whoever was listening that this night would be over soon.
Thankfully, Robby finished up and tucked himself back into his pants. He was only able to pull the zipper up partially, so Jack helped him the rest of the way and with the button.
“Let's get the hell out of here. What do you say?” Jack said, not expecting a response. He lifted Robby’s mostly limp body into the truck and strapped him in.
Once they were both in the truck, Jack looked over at Robby to confront him. However, the man's bloodied face was pressed against the window, and he was already snoring with his mouth open.
“Damn Robinavitch. Definitely not your best look.” Jack couldn't help but chuckle to himself a little. Some of his combat buddies had pulled him out of the gutter a few times too many, just like this. And some of those nights, his face looked the same, or even worse, afterward. Guess they would have to talk when his friend was more coherent. On second thought, Jack pulled out his phone and took a picture of him with the flash on. What were friends for if not to make fun of you when you're hungover in the morning? Turning the key, he started the journey back to his apartment.
____________
The decision to go back to Jack’s apartment was an easy one. He lived on the first floor with no stairs due to his accessibility needs. Robby's apartment was on the 5th floor, and the elevator was down about 60% of the time. Plus, there was no way in hell he was dragging drunk Sasquatch up five flights of stairs with a bum leg. On top of all that, Jack had enough medical supplies at his place to survive the apocalypse five times over.
Once the truck was parked, he went to the passenger side to help Robby out. The drunken nap must have helped sober him up at least a little because it was easier to wake him this time. When he opened the door, Robby immediately groaned and grabbed for his head.
“Uh-uh, don’t touch that.” Jack said while grabbing his hand.
“Hurts.” Robby winced, still slurring his words.
“I know Mike. Let's get inside and get you cleaned up.”
Robby let himself be led by the hand out of the truck. Unlocking the door while supporting more than half of the taller man's body weight proved difficult. After a few unskilled attempts, he finally opened the door. Not wanting to waste the momentum he has carrying Robby, he quickly walked him to the couch and gracelessly dumped him on it. Once on the couch, he quickly fell into another drunken slumber. Damn, Jack could even remember the last time he got that drunk. He was probably still in the Army.
Now that they were finally home, Jack knew he needed to move on to his next task: Fix Robby’s face. He gathered the medical supplies he would need throughout the house and started to walk back to the couch. Before he reached it, he stopped. On second thought, he needed one more thing. It was something they used frequently at the hospital to clean up dried blood on patients, even if it was a little unorthodox. Lube. It worked better than soap and water or even hydrogen peroxide. But there was only one place he had lube in his house.
He made his way into the bedroom and opened his bedside table. Looking at the object with an exasperated eye roll, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of strawberry-scented Durex®. This night was getting more and more ridiculous every minute. Half expecting the camera crew from ‘Punked’ to jump out of his closet any second now, he made his way back to the couch. He laid out all of the supplies on the coffee table and got to work. First, he needed to see where all the blood was coming from. Using a warm washcloth, he started to wash the fresh blood off Robby's battered face, careful and light so he wouldn't wake him. Most of the blood had already dried, dark and stubborn in his eyebrow, hair, and beard. Jack let out a heavy sigh. Getting dried blood out of hair, well, it sucked, for lack of a better term.
“Nothing halfway with you, man.” Jack said to an unconscious Robby.
He grabbed his gloves from the coffee table, squirted a healthy amount of lube onto his hands, warmed it between his palms, and got to work. He started with the easy areas—cheek and forehead—skirting where he thought the main cut would be. Wiping away the congealed lube-and-blood mixture, Jack could finally see what he was working with: approximately a 1.5-inch laceration just above the eyebrow. Deep. Definitely needed stitches. He covered it with a small piece of gauze and tape so he could finish cleaning.
He added more lube and worked it into Robby’s hair and beard. It was weirdly satisfying, feeling the clotted blood loosen under his fingertips and seeing it give way to flushed skin and graying hair. Somewhere in the middle of the motion, he realized how close he’d gotten. He’d always been enraptured with the beauty of his friend's face. The deep crows' feet that had only carved deeper over the years. The subtle freckles that dotted his cheeks always darkened with the Pittsburgh summers. His bold and unapologetic nose fit his face perfectly. And his teeth… God, his teeth. In a city full of people with overly white teeth and veneers, Robby’s stuck out imperfect and real. Jack loved that about them, about him. Throughout their friendship, Jack had always been able to shove his feelings into a locked box, but there were moments like this—his hands in Robby’s hair, his breath brushing Jack’s wrist—that made his chest ache.
Jack gave himself a physical little shake, dragging his mind back to the task. Naval-gazing had never helped him before, and it definitely wouldn’t help now.
He kept working the lube through Robby’s beard until the last of the dried blood slipped free, then focused on his hair. The lube had done its job; now he had to pull the softened clumps out. Jack set his fingers against Robby’s scalp and carefully pulled through, stripping out sticky, rust-colored chunks.
Robby groaned.
Jack slowed but didn’t stop, taking it for a groan of pain and mentally chastising himself to be gentler. He reset his hands and combed through again, carefully this time. Another sound slipped out of Robby, deeper now, his mouth parting slightly. Bliss more than pain. Jack froze, eyes dropping to his face.
A sort of…peace had settled over Robby’s features, a loose, hazy softness Jack recognized as something else entirely.
He had to be sure.
Unable to help himself, he curled his fingers around the hair at the base of Robby’s skull and gave a slow, firm pull. Robby let out a deep, breathy moan and tilted his head back into Jack’s touch, baring the long line of his throat.
Jesus Christ.
The look on his face was one Jack knew he’d never forget. Robby was still asleep—dreaming, probably. And Jack, hands buried in his best friend’s hair while he moaned, had never felt more off-balance.
He let go like he’d been burned, pushing to his feet too fast. Needing space, he stripped off his gloves, grabbed the bloodied towels and washcloths, and headed for the washer. Leaning against the washing machine, he took a few deep breaths. In for four, out for four. He could do this. Just a few stitches and the night would be over. Knowing he would need to wash Robby’s bloodied clothes as well, he didn't start the load yet.
After a couple more deep breaths, he headed back to the couch and opened up all the supplies he needed to clean and repair the laceration. First, he removed the gauze and sprayed saline into the wound to clear out any debris. He made sure to use the gauze so as not to soak Robby’s face with the spray.
Jack woke him up by shaking his shoulder. “Robby, wakey wakey.” Robby slowly opened his eyes and looked towards Jack.
“Jack? What the hell?” He slurred. Obviously still drunk, confused, and now grumpy because he was being woken up.
“I'll explain better in the morning, but you need stitches in your eyebrow. I’m going to have to numb you up. I didn't want to wake you up with a needle in your forehead. I'm an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.” He quickly explained.
Robby tried to squint his eyes in confusion, but it pulled at the cut on his eyebrow. He quickly winced instead.
“Here, this is the best I can do right now. Take this.” Jack handed him a glass of water and two Tylenol pills. Robby continued to stare at Jack with a pinched and grumpy look on his face. It was almost pitiful.
“That’s the only thing you can have right now. No hard drugs on account of all the booze you had tonight. On the bright side, once I numb you up, it'll probably feel a little better.” Jack said, giving him an overly friendly smile.
Robby took the pills and water out of Jack’s hands somewhat reluctantly.
“Good boy.” Jack teased. He then set his suture tray on Robby’s lap and climbed onto the couch next to him. He angled his body towards his friend with his leg under himself.
“Alright, you know the drill. Stay as still as possible.” Jack warned. He then prepared the syringe of lidocaine. Once he injected it into the skin around the cut Robby winced and sucked air through his teeth.
“I know it hurts, baby, you’re doing great. Just a few more seconds,” Jack encouraged. His words seemed to help Robby settle. “Annnnnd done. Okay, we’ll give it a minute or two for it to kick in, then I'll get you nice and sewn up.”
Robby closed his eyes, leaned his head back into the cushion, and gave a weak thumbs-up as a reply.
“That's the spirit.” Jack laughed. He stood from the couch and went to the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. It was only fair, he told himself. He never got to finish the first beer he opened before he got the phone call to rescue Robby. Also, it wasn't every day he got the opportunity to practice medicine while sipping on a cold one. It made him feel like one of the town doctors in a Clint Eastwood movie. And lastly, a beer was the least he could do to unwind his psyche after the turn his night off had taken.
He took a large gulp of the beer and thought about how he called Robby ‘baby’. He had many nicknames for the man over the years, and "baby" was one of them, but one he only used once in a blue moon. It usually only happened by accident. But Robby never seemed to mind. It was typically in a more friendly, jovial context anyway.
For example, a “What do you got for me, baby?” at shift change. Or a “That's what I'm talking about, baby!” with a clap on the back after he successfully performed a risky procedure. He occasionally let it slip as he had on the couch, in more of a pet name kind of way. Thankfully, Robby never seemed to mind. That, or it happened so infrequently he saw no need to correct it. Come to think of it, Robby seemed to smile at him no matter what nickname he called him, baby included. Huh, interesting.
Jack took another big swig of his beer and headed back to the couch. Once again, he tucked himself up against the warmer man to get in a comfortable position for suturing. He felt around the pockets of Robby’s cargo pants looking for something he needed. While he rooted around in the man's pockets, Robby lifted his head to look at him.
“Aha! I knew it.” Jack said mostly to himself once he finally found Robby’s glasses. He placed them on his face and began gloving up for the sutures.
Robby let out a small huff of laughter. “Get your own. Thief.”
“Why would I do that when I can just use yours? Okay, I'm starting. Let me know if you feel anything.”
“How do you sew patients up at work without my glasses?” Robby countered.
“Let’s be real. Between the residents and med students, neither one of us has had to do stitches in a long time.”
“Fair.”
Without taking his eyes off the sutures he was placing, Jack could feel Robby staring at him. With their faces so close together, it was hard to ignore. But Jack had already made the night weird enough, so he stayed quiet and waited for the other man to say something. After what felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds, Robby broke the silence.
“Square.”
That made Jack pause and look down at his friend. “I'm not following, brother. Use your words.”
“Square glasses. They'd look better on you. Round doesn't fit your face.” He said, closing his eyes and giving Jack another one of those dopey smiles.
Jack couldn't help it; he let out a surprised belly laugh. Robby never spoke about his appearance. It caught him so off guard. “Calling the guy with a needle in your face ugly, huh? Bold move, Robinavitch.” Jack resumed his stitching.
“You? Ugly? Never. Don’t act like you don’t know how good you look.” Robby scoffed with a serious tone.
And with that, the lightheartedness of the conversation was sucked out of the room. Even worse, Jack could feel him staring once again. He could feel a flush start to burn down his neck. They had never been the type of friends who complemented each other. What the hell was that about? He quickly placed the last suture and changed the subject.
“All set. Let's get an ice pack on that eye while you can still see out of it. Here, drink up. I’ll be right back.” He said while handing Robby the glass of water again.
He got off the couch, placed Robby’s glasses on the coffee table, and then headed to the freezer. As a night shifter, he owned way more frozen food than fresh food. Something quick that he could microwave was a lifesaver on those occasions he got home late in the morning and hadn't eaten all shift. Spotting some frozen peas, he grabbed them and headed back to the couch.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the look on Robby’s face. The glass of water in his hand was now empty and shaking. He knew the look on his face; he had seen it thousands of times. Shaky, pale, sweaty, and the look of dread in their eyes.
“Mikey, don’t you fucking dare-” He wasn't able to finish his sentence because Robby shot up off the couch faster than he had ever seen him move. Robby did his best impression of a baby deer and ran to the bathroom, stumbling the whole way and running into walls. Jack was stuck in place and pinched his brow as he heard the all too familiar sound of retching. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, vowing to kick the ever-living shit out of the drunk man if he puked all over his bathroom.
The smell of bile hit his nose as soon as he walked through the threshold. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. Jack let out a sigh of relief. Robby was on his knees, with his swollen face pressed against his forearm that lay on the side of the toilet seat. Thankfully, he made it to the toilet in time.
Jack couldn't help but laugh a little at him. Serves him right for trying to drive drunk anyway. He pulled out his phone again. At the sound of Jack laughing, Robby picked up his head just in time to see Jack with his phone in hand, taking a picture of him. He weakly held up a middle finger to the camera seconds before he vomited again.
Taking pity on the guy, Jack put his phone away and lowered himself to the bathroom floor next to his friend. He placed the frozen peas he still had onto the back of Robby’s neck and rubbed his back in soothing circles. After a particularly violent dry heave, Jack felt his protective instinct for him flare up. He moved his hand from rubbing his back to instead carding his fingers through Robby’s hair. Robby let out an appreciative groan and moved his head towards the hand running through his hair.
“It's almost over, you'll feel better soon. I promise.” Jack encouraged softly.
They sat like that for a while. Jack whispered soft reassurances in Robby’s ear while he continued to run his fingers through his hair. Eventually, the dry heaves taper off. Once Jack was sure he had finished, he stood up to look in his medicine cabinet. Finding what he needed, he grabbed another washcloth and wet it in the sink. Items in hand, he crouched down next to him again.
“Look at me, Robby,” The man slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with Jack. His eyes were still unfocused and blurry from the alcohol. Jack rested his thumb on his chin and used his pointer finger to tilt his head up slightly. With his other hand, he wiped the damp washcloth over his mouth and beard to clean off the residual sick and saliva. He noticed Robby’s eyes were both red and rimmed with unshed tears. His right eye was completely bloodshot in the corner, where he had been hit. Mike’s eyes were always so expressive, and more often than not lately, they looked so hopeless. Jack would do anything to alleviate the sadness he saw inside him. “You okay, Mike?” He asked quietly but seriously. Robby squeezed his eyes shut hard and turned away from him in such a way that Jack knew he was trying not to cry.
Jack felt completely and utterly gutted. He knew Robby was struggling after the Pittfest shooting, hell they all were. He also knew he was going to therapy and that shit was tough, especially in the beginning. But had he really been so blind as not to see that his friend was hurting so much? He dropped down the rest of the way to the floor on his knees and pulled Robby into his chest, conscious of his injured eye. Robby allowed himself to be pulled and tucked himself easily into Jack. Jack's hand came up to steady Robby while he quietly shook and sobbed into his shirt.
“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, baby. Let me bear some of the weight for you. I'll gladly take it.” Jack said softly.
They held onto each other for a long time. Not that time mattered; he would sit there with Robby forever if he asked him to. Eventually, Robby’s shaking died off, and he moved his head slowly away from Jack's now soaked t-shirt.
“Sorry-” Robby began, but Jack promptly cut him off.
“Ah-ah. None of that. Nothing to be sorry for. We absolutely need to talk, but I think that can wait until you've slept a little. I think you might be the new record holder for shittiest day ever.”
His comment had the desired effect of breaking the tension. Robby choked out a small, wet laugh and gave a small nod of agreement. Jack stood up to help him off the bathroom floor. Both of his knees painfully popped when he stood. He knew he would be paying for kneeling on the hard tile for so long in the morning. “Oh, one more thing-” Jack said, almost forgetting what he got from the medicine cabinet. “Here, open up. It's Zofran.” He said with the pill in his hand. Robby immediately opened his mouth and lifted his tongue for Jack to place the pill under. It was a little late for nausea medication, but it would prevent him from vomiting anymore tonight, or god forbid, aspirating.
____________
Jack manhandled him to the bedroom, sat Robby on the bed, and began by removing his boots and socks. Jack tried to push away the thought that he was undressing the man he had desired for so long, in his own bedroom. After the footwear was off, Jack went through Robby’s pants pockets. He placed the retrieved cigarettes, lighter, and cell phone onto the bedside table, then made sure to plug it into the charger.
Jack did a quick mental survey of his closet. Robby wore one size up from his in a t-shirt. All the shirts he had would probably fit, but they would be uncomfortably tight, especially for sleeping. The mental image of Robby in one of his shirts, skin tight on his arms, and his happy trail peaking out of the bottom was almost too much for Jack to handle.
He knew Robby would fit into one of his hoodies; the other man had borrowed it once before. Jack had made Robby wear it when it started raining after watching a football game at Jack’s place, forcing him to take it before walking home. Jack also had a baggy pair of pajama pants that he knew would fit the taller man, as Robby had worn them previously when he slept over.
On the few occasions Robby crashed on his couch, he always slept shirtless. When Jack joked about it, he confessed that he was a hot sleeper and was always a little hot at night in Jack's apartment. Jack, on the contrary, always slept in a pair of thick sweats and a hoodie or t-shirt, depending on the weather. Ever since then, when Robby stayed over, he made sure to turn the thermostat down for the night and use an extra blanket.
Grabbing the blue checkered pajama pants out of his dresser, he made his way back to Robby.
“Alright, arms up.” Robby lethargically lifted his arms so Jack could remove his shirt. Once that was off, Jack was already dreading the next part. “Now, lie back.” Robby didn't need to be told twice. He flopped back like a fish onto the bed and closed his eyes. “How do you want to play this? I need to take off your-” a loud, deep noise cut him off. Jack looked down at the man on the bed. He was already snoring. Rolling his eyes, he moved to start unbuttoning the man's jeans. Jack averted his eyes to an empty spot on the wall to give him some semblance of decency while he worked the button off and the zipper down. With some difficulty, he was able to yank the jeans down and put him in the pajama pants.
Thankfully, he had some practice dressing and undressing unconscious people from working in the ER for so long. He pulled Robby the rest of the way onto the bed and went back to his hall closet in search of more medical supplies. Since Robby wasn't able to hold down any water, the least he could do was get some fluids in him so his hangover wouldn't be completely unbearable tomorrow. His head would hurt like hell already, and he was probably concussed. Finding the bag of IV fluids and supplies, he headed back into the bedroom. Working quickly and efficiently, he started an IV in the crook of Robby’s arm and connected the fluids. Next, he used an excessive amount of medical tape to attach the fluid bag above the headboard to the wall.
While the fluids were going, he grabbed Robby’s bloodied clothes and headed back into the main apartment to start cleaning up. First, he started a load of clothes and washcloths. Next, he grabbed the peas from the bathroom sink and headed back to the kitchen to put them in the freezer. On his way back into the living room, he turned the thermostat down. He crossed into the kitchen to put the peas away. Lastly, he turned back into the living room. There was shit everywhere—medical supplies, lube, Robby’s glasses, beer, etc.
Jack finally felt the fight drain out of him. The last few hours had been emotionally and physically exhausting. He just wanted to get his prosthetic off and go to sleep. Vowing to wake up early to clean everything up, he headed to the bedroom.
By the time he re-entered the bedroom, Robby’s fluids had finished. He disconnected the IV and placed a small bandage over the site where he pulled the IV out.
Jack changed into a pair of sweats and an old Army t-shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the door, he finally pulled off his prosthetic. He massaged from his knee down to his surgical scar. Definitely going to be sore tomorrow. He tucked both Robby and himself under the blanket. Suddenly, a dreadful thought seeped back into his mind.
Aspiration.
A lot of the friends he served with turned to alcohol to help them cope with what they experienced. Unfortunately, a handful of them succumbed to alcohol poisoning. Jack knew the best way to prevent it was to place the person in the recovery position while they slept. His anxiety won out over his fear of the next morning being awkward. He turned Robby onto his left side and spooned up behind him. Next, he placed one arm under his neck and the other wrapped around his bare chest. Being pressed against Robby’s back while he snored helped loosen most of the anxiety vibrating inside him. He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing. Vaguely thinking he hadn't been this comfortable in a long time, he drifted off.