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The townhome was cold when Robby stepped through the front door. 12 hours ago, when he had been getting dressed and packed for work, Jack had cranked the AC before passing out again. It was a quick morning; Jack was off for the next few days, and it was the last shift Robby was working before a three-day much-needed relaxation.
Pittsburgh in the summer was something to be reckoned with. Robby had almost opted to ride his motorcycle into work in shorts, but he knew that would result in him getting slapped shitless by at least three of his coworkers, and Jack. But the townhome was still cold, as if Jack had forgotten to turn the AC off.
“Jack? I’m home,” Robby toed his shoes off at the front door, shoving them towards the rack but not onto it. A yawn cracked across his face as he tossed his backpack, and subsequently his helmet, onto a chair at the dining table.
“How was the ride in?” A voice floated from the couch.
“Jesus!” Robby jumped, clutching a hand to his chest. There, in the dim light of the evening, sat Jack. Leaning against the couch, arms crossed over his chest, face emotionless. Robby couldn’t tell if Jack was angry to see him, happy he was home, or waiting to kill him in the dark.
“It was good, no heavy traffic this time of day.” Robby shuffled over to the couch, letting his body collapse next to his partners. He sank into the cushions with a moan, leaning his head back and feeling it crack slightly as he rotated to gaze at Jack. Jack, who had yet to take that stern look away from Robby.
“Okay, something is wrong. Are you okay? Did something happen today?” Robby sat up a little, turning to face Jack more. Jack unfolded his arms and grabbed his phone from where it sat on the coffee table. The brown oak coffee table they had chosen together for their four-year anniversary, which was once pristine but is now layered with coffee mug rings and scratch marks.
Jack clicked through his phone before rotating the screen towards Robby. The brightness caught him off guard momentarily before his eyes focused, and there on the screen, clear as day, was a photo of Robby. A photo of Robby sat upon his motorcycle, clearly pulling out of the Pitts parking lot, with his helmet attached to his backpack.
“Shit,” Robby muttered quietly, handing the phone back slowly. The stoicism on Jack's face now made sense; his husband was clearly pissed.
“Dana sent me that. 45 minutes ago. Do you know how hard it is to wait 45 minutes knowing your chances of survival in a crash have plummeted by 54%? Go ahead and guess, Robby.” Jack clicked the phone off and chucked it at the table. The screen slid across the wood before coming to a stop, but neither paid it any mind. Robby tore his eyes away from Jack, who was turning a little red with anger.
Robby had no good excuses. Why hadn’t he worn the helmet? Life is good now. He had his life partner of almost 10 years, he had scheduled time off to travel to the west coast for their anniversary. He had seen Jake this past weekend, and they’d reconciled. The last time he went to the roof was…heck, he couldn’t even remember.
So why put yourself at risk, again?
“I don’t…” Robby tried to swallow past a dry mouth, “I don’t know, yankl.”
“That’s not good enough.” Robby looked up in shock as Jack went to stand up. The man was wearing his prosthetic on a day off, Robby noted, and clearly in pain from sitting with it.
“That’s not fucking good enough,” Jack stated again. Robby sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, pressure on his eyes causing static to appear as he tried to think of something better. Anything better to tell his partner?
“It’s not like I’ve been wanting to jump. I don’t know if it’s just muscle memory from before, never wearing it. Or that I just don’t care anymore.” Robby regretted the words as he said them, wincing as Jack stood directly in front of him, glaring downwards.
“Don’t care anymore? What the fuck does that mean? Don’t care about your life? About your family? Don’t care if you die and end up in our ER… our ER on one of my shifts. That’s cruel, Robinavitch, that’s so fucking cruel even for you.” Jack moved to walk away, leaving Robby sitting there in the dying sunlight, a little shocked, frozen to the couch.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the night. At some point, Jack had stepped outside in a sweater and tennis shoes, Robby guessed, to take a walk. The townhome was quiet as he shuffled from the couch to the bedroom, peeling off scrubs to change into his sweats and a run-down concert tee. The townhome remained quiet, and Robby remained in the bedroom, curled on the bed with his phone in his hand. His phone remained silent of notifications, no calls or texts from Jack, no updates on location, no texts from Dana or Jake. Hell, even Langdon hadn’t spoken to him all day.
Robby remained there, unmoving, for what felt like hours, until darkness had seeped into the walls and crowded him in against the covers. The only sound was his breathing broken up by the pounding of his heart in his ears.
Do you know how hard it is to wait 45 minutes knowing your chances of survival in a crash have plummeted by 54%?
Robby heard the front door open first, followed by the click of the lock and shuffling of feet. The bedroom door swung open, revealing a very tired and disheveled Jack. But Robby remained motionless, phone lying against the covers, head still curled against his arms, breathing still steady if not heavy.
Robby didn’t say anything as Jack climbed into bed next to him, and Jack grabbed his arms and pulled him slowly into his embrace. Jack breathes a kiss against the side of his head, wrapping him into a tighter embrace. Neither man said a word as Robby fell asleep, breaths evening out against Jack’s chest.
Robby woke up still tired, bones aching in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He stretched slowly, reaching out towards the warmth beside him.
Jack. His mind supplied, like the concept of his husband not returning to their home was still a very real possibility. He didn’t fully remember Jack coming home last night or falling asleep at all.
“I’m still pissed at you.” Jack broke the morning silence, but his anger was paired with a soft hand tugging through Robby’s hair. Fingers brushing down the planes of his back, shirt rucked up a little to expose fields of body hair, stretch marks, and scars, which Jack traced with prayers on the tip of his tongue.
“I wouldn’t expect you not to be,” Robby supplied, yawning and reaching a hand to curl against Jack’s thigh. Jack watched Robby’s eyes slip closed again before the man clearly fought the second wave of exhaustion. On the other hand, Jack had his phone open and scrolling, responding to messages that came in the night.
“You’re still tired,” Jack clicked his tongue, “go back to sleep.”
Robby mumbled something half-intelligible, head rolling softly against his pillow, before his hand went lax against Jacks’ thigh, and sleep claimed him again. Jack could only stare at his life partner, enamored, yes, but still angry. Even after all these years, after all this progress, Robby still gambled with his life.
Jack's phone vibrated with a message, tearing his gaze from the relaxed face of his lover, to his screen. It was email notifications coming through rapid-fire.
‘eBay export - Offer received from XYZ.’
Jack swiped through them rapidly, clearing his inbox before more could flood in. In another tab, he had Ebay open, a new post uploaded just a few hours before in the dead of night.
Outlined by the Pittsburgh sunset sat the 1969 Bonneville, Robby had put blood, sweat, and tears into, photographed so delicately by his husband in a fit of rage.
Up for bidding starting at $200.
Jack would admit that it was a really stupid decision made in a stupid fit of anger. He had stormed out last night, thinking he’d take a walk to clear his head, reground himself. Come back and talk to Robby about it, come to a decision, but Jack hadn’t made it past their driveway.
No helmet, no bike.
So instead, Jack had snapped some very tasteful pictures of the bike and curated a post on an eBay account he hadn’t logged into in years. $200 was just to be petty; he knew the bike was worth so much more than that. But to be honest, he wanted Robby to hurt just as badly as he had hurt the night before.
Now, he was slowly filling with regret; he hadn’t accepted a bid, nor had he closed the bidding itself. He still had 14 hours. 14 hours to have Robby decide, keep it and wear the helmet, or sell it and use Jacks Tahoe.
“I can smell you’re upset from over here,” the sleepy voice cut through Jack's fear. Robby was blinking his eyes, clearing the morning haze from them, and shuffling himself to sit up slowly.
How long had it been since he fell back asleep? Jack cast a look at the clock perched on the bedside table. Almost 45 minutes had passed since Jack had been lost in his guilt.
“I did something stupid last night, and I need you to shut the fuck up and listen to me for a second.” Jack set his phone aside and adjusted his position as Robby settled upright next to him. Jack's hand had gone from absent-mindedly playing with Robby's back to rubbing across his knee instead.
“Not a great way to start our morning after last night, but I guess I’m awake, shoot Jackie.” Robby raked a hand through his hair and across his face, a sad attempt to wake himself up more.
“I was angry at a lot of things, but specifically, you are still gambling with your life. Gambling a life we now share. So I wanted to get rid of the gambling piece, and I may have taken some photos, which were very tasteful, mind you, and you should keep them honestly, and posted them.”
Robby’s eyes shot open, shocked and terrified all at once. Ripping himself from Jack's touch to turn fully to face the man, trying to connect the dots in his head.
“Are you saying you cheated on me last night?!” It was Jack’s turn to be shocked, looking up immediately to meet Robby’s eyes, confusion and fear dancing between them.
“The fuck, NO?!” Jack shook his head, instead grabbing at his phone and unlocking it. He turned it to Robby, showing the eBay page, his motorcycle post clearly highlighted. Robby felt relief flood his system, sagging slightly as the anxiety rattled out of him with a sigh.
“Don’t word it that way, Jesus Christ, Jackie. I thought you meant you posted nudes online or went out and hooked up with someone.” Jack blushed at this, closing his mouth so hard his teeth clacked.
“Nothing that bad, I swear by it, Robby.” The phone was transferred from Jack’s hands into Robby’s, who adjusted the screen a little further away to read the text.
“You posted my bike?” Jack nodded sheepishly.
“You posted my bike for only $200?” Robby lowered the phone, meeting Jack’s gaze again. Jack, who was now ashamed and tired all in one.
“I was angry at everything you said, or I guess didn’t say. So I wanted revenge. And I’m sorry, baby, I can delete it if that’s what you want,” Jack moved upright a little, leaning towards Robby, trying to get closer to his face. Robby was upset, that’s for damn sure, not angry at what Jack did, but more hurt at the fact that he thought his bike was only worth 200.
“Or?”
“Or, we sell the bike, and you can use that cash to take us to dinner on our anniversary.” Jack took the phone back from Robby, turning it off and letting it fall to the bed, forgotten.
“You want me to sell the bike I literally poured my blood into? That’s outrageous, Jack. Will it make a difference if I say I’ll start wearing the damn helmet?” Robby moved to grab his phone off the nightstand, leaning past Jack a little.
“You could promise that, but I wouldn’t believe you. Are you wearing it for you, or for me?” Robby was typing on his phone, thumbs moving slowly and swiping at something Jack couldn’t see.
“I’d be wearing it for both of us, Jack. Wearing it for us.” Jack nodded at this, scratching at his arms where they had crossed his chest. A protective shield, maybe, if his therapist could analyse this moment. Cutting himself off from his partner was an attempt to establish a hard boundary in the disruption he had created.
“Okay…okay, then we don’t sell it.” Robby hummed in agreement, sliding his phone to rest beside Jack's. Both phones vibrated but remained untouched, notifications forgotten.
“We don’t sell it. Please. You know what that bike means to me. You know what you mean to me. I’d wear a thousand helmets if it kept me close to you. Also, I can afford to take you to damn dinner without selling my bike.” Jack scoffed at this, rolling his eyes. His arms unfurled and grabbed at Robby's shoulders. Robby shifted forward, letting himself be pulled into a warm hug.
“You’re a big sap, I hope your students know you grovel to your husband just to keep a stupid hunk of death metal on our driveway.”
“They know I do something to my husband, not sure it’s groveling they think of though.” A hand smacks against the back of Robby’s head, eliciting a laugh from the older man. They remain like that, bound together, for a few moments more. Before Robby sighs and shifts backwards, tracing a finger along Jack's jaw.
“I’m gonna make breakfast, stay here for a bit longer, I’ll bring you coffee.” The bed shifted as Robby rose up, stretching out his muscles again as he padded to the bedroom door. Jack watched him walk off, finally accepting the warmth of the morning and the small clips of sunlight sneaking through the curtains.
Jack yawned again, reaching to grab his phone, rearranging Robby’s next to his pillow. The sounds from the kitchen echoed through the hall into the bedroom. He swore he could hear Robby humming their wedding song. Jack smiled, unlocking his phone.
An email popped up almost immediately.
‘eBay export - Offer received from jackisadick.’