Chapter Text
Morning crept in quietly, pale and gray, the kind of dawn that felt unsure of itself. The city outside Robby’s apartment was still half-asleep, the hum of traffic muted, rainwater drying in dark stains on the pavement below.
Robby was not asleep.
He lay facedown across his couch, one arm dangling toward the floor, wings spread awkwardly behind him like fallen banners. Several feathers were bent at bad angles, a few missing entirely. The muscles along his spine twitched now and then, betraying pain he refused to acknowledge even in private.
The lock on his door clicked.
Then the door opened.
“Wow,” Jack Abbott muttered. “You know, most people use alarms. Or locks. Or both.”
Robby groaned into the couch cushion. “Dana gave you a key.”
“She absolutely did,” Jack said cheerfully, toeing the door shut behind him. “And told me to use it if you did something stupid. Which, shockingly, you have.”
Robby lifted his head just enough to glare at him upside down. His hair was a mess, his eyes shadowed, the faint shimmer of his nictitating membrane flickering as light hit them too sharply.
“It’s seven in the morning,” Robby rasped.
“And you’re face-down, half-plucked, and radiating pain like a broken MRI machine,” Jack replied. “So yeah. I’m coming in.”
Jack crossed the apartment with practiced ease despite the uneven rhythm of his gait. He set his bag down, shrugged out of his jacket, and immediately softened when he took in the full state of Robby’s wings.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “You’re still sore.”
Robby huffed. “I’ll live.”
Jack crouched beside the couch. “That’s not the same as ‘I’m okay,’ and you know it.”
Robby didn’t argue. That alone told Jack how bad it was.
“Up,” Jack said gently, patting Robby’s shoulder. “Couch is murder on wing joints.”
Robby grumbled but pushed himself upright, wincing as his wings shifted. Jack was immediately there, steadying him with a hand at his back.
“Easy,” Jack said. “Slow. I’ve got you.”
Robby shot him a look. “I’m not fragile.”
Jack smiled faintly. “Didn’t say you were. Just injured.”
Once Robby was seated, Jack fetched warm water, antiseptic spray, and clean cloths. He knelt behind him, careful and methodical, like this was surgery instead of domestic wing care.
He started with the bases of the wings, thumbs pressing gently along the muscles. Robby hissed quietly.
“Too much?” Jack asked immediately.
“No,” Robby muttered. “Just—tight.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “You’ve been guarding. Makes it worse.”
Jack worked slowly, coaxing the tension out with careful pressure, stretching the joints just enough to ease the stiffness without forcing anything. His eagle wing shifted unconsciously, mirroring the motion.
“You’ve been pulling again,” Jack said quietly.
Robby stiffened.
Jack sighed. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Robby scowled. “It helps.”
“It hurts,” Jack countered. “And you know it.”
Robby’s jaw tightened. “It quiets things.”
Jack paused, then leaned closer. “For about five minutes. Then you bleed and spiral and Dana threatens to kill me if I don’t intervene.”
That earned a reluctant snort.
“Stop pulling your feathers out,” Jack said firmly. “Please.”
Robby huffed. “You sound like my therapist.”
“Yeah,” Jack said dryly. “And she charges more.”
Jack moved on to cleaning the damaged primaries, carefully realigning bent shafts, trimming what needed trimming. He worked in silence for a moment before speaking again.
“You should try and get along with Gloria.”
Robby’s head snapped around so fast Jack barely avoided a beak-shaped bruise. “Absolutely not.”
“Robby—”
“No.”
Jack sighed. “I didn’t say like her.”
Robby’s eyes narrowed. “She called me Icarus.”
“I know.”
“She said I’d burn and no one would care.”
“I know.”
“She threatened my department.”
“I know,” Jack repeated, quieter.
Robby’s wings flared slightly. “Then why are we having this conversation?”
Jack leaned back on his heels. “Because war taught me something.”
Robby scoffed. “Oh good. Here comes the sermon.”
Jack smiled faintly. “You remember the disciples?”
Robby groaned. “Oh my god.”
“Humor me.”
Robby rolled his eyes. “Fine. Peter. Andrew. James the Greater. John. Philip. Bartholomew. Matthew. Thomas. James the Lesser. Thaddaeus. Simon the Zealot.” He paused. “…Judas.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. That one.”
Robby glanced back at him. “What about him?”
“Didn’t Jesus treat Judas extremely well?” Jack asked. “Fed him. Trusted him. Knew exactly what he was going to do.”
Robby frowned. “He knew Judas would get him killed.”
“Exactly.”
Robby turned fully now. “What’s your point?”
Jack shrugged. “Love thy enemy.”
Robby stared at him. Then burst out laughing, sharp, incredulous. “That’s rich coming from a soldier boy.”
Jack smirked. “I never said I was good at it.”
Robby shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Jack tilted his head, eyes warm. “You’re a wet rat.”
Robby blinked. “…What?”
Jack gestured vaguely at him. “Sad. Damp. Looks like he fell in a gutter but still thinks he’s dignified.”
Robby snorted despite himself. “You’re an ass.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “But I’m your ass.”
The humor faded, leaving something heavier behind. Robby’s gaze dropped to the floor.
“I don’t think I can forgive her,” he said quietly. “Not after Monty’s—”
He stopped.
Jack’s expression softened instantly. He reached out, gently tugging Robby’s hair , not hard, just enough to guide his head back and up, forcing eye contact.
“Hey,” Jack said softly. “You don’t have to finish that.”
Robby swallowed.
“You don’t have to like her,” Jack continued. “You don’t have to forgive her.” His thumb brushed Robby’s temple, grounding. “Just… try not to kill her.”
Robby let out a shaky laugh. “That’s a low bar.”
“Meetable, though,” Jack said.
Robby leaned back slightly, wings settling as the tension eased just a fraction. “You always make it sound simple.”
Jack smiled. “Never said it was easy.”
He finished cleaning Robby’s wings, smoothing the feathers until they lay right again — still sore, still healing, but intact. When he was done, he rested his hand between Robby’s shoulders.
“Hope’s still there,” Jack said quietly. “Even when it hurts.”
Robby closed his eyes. Somewhere deep in his chest, something fluttered, small, stubborn, alive.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”
And for the first time that morning, he believed it.
Jack leaned in without thinking too hard about it.
He pressed a quiet, familiar kiss to the back of Robby’s head, right where dark hair met the sensitive down at the base of his wings. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t possessive. It was the kind of kiss you gave someone you’d been patching back together for years.
Robby froze for half a second, then didn’t pull away.
“Hey,” Jack murmured, voice low and steady. “Just… try to be a little nicer, okay?”
Robby’s shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath. His wings gave a faint, irritated twitch.
“Hmph,” he said. “Fine. Okay.”
Jack smiled immediately, like he’d just successfully negotiated a ceasefire. “Good boy.”
Robby stiffened.
He turned his head slowly. Too slowly.
“I’m not a dog.”
Jack didn’t miss a beat. “No,” he said thoughtfully, “more like a judgmental parrot.”
Robby stared at him.
Jack continued, warming to the idea. “Very loud opinions. Extremely intelligent. Holds grudges forever. Will absolutely bite if annoyed.”
Robby’s eyes narrowed. The translucent membranes slid halfway over them, giving him that eerie, owl-like glare that made interns cry and administrators rethink their life choices.
“I do not bite,” Robby said coolly.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You bit Frank last year.”
“He touched my wing without asking.”
Jack shrugged. “Parrot behavior.”
Robby scoffed. “I am a chief attending physician.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “And also a bird who hisses when stressed and plucks his own feathers.”
Robby opened his mouth, closed it, then crossed his arms. His wings flared just enough to be dramatic.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
Jack grinned. “Dana’s rubbed off on me.”
Robby sighed, long and theatrical. “I will attempt,” he said stiffly, “to be… marginally less hostile to hospital leadership.”
Jack beamed. “Look at you. Growth.”
Robby shot him a look. “Say ‘good boy’ again and I will actually bite you.”
Jack chuckled, rising to his feet, giving Robby’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Judgmental parrot,” he said fondly.
Robby muttered, “Asshole eagle,” under his breath.
Jack heard it.
He smiled anyway.