jackabbot | A necessary argument

Jack was, to put it mildly, cranky. He was probably beyond cranky and into the state that he’d only seen very small children achieve. He, unfortunately, was not allowed to sit down where he was and refuse to move from that spot while also screaming. He had to continue behaving like a mature adult with an advanced degree and a position of responsibility.

He’d just finished working a double because on top of the usual holiday-related scheduling craziness, people also got sick or injured, which meant they couldn’t work and thus Jack got to work twenty-four hours in a row. Robby might have taken the shift for him, but Jack didn’t ask because Robby essentially wasn’t talking to him for reasons he refused to explain or even acknowledge. More importantly, he was pretty sure Robby had already worked his legally allowed hours this week. Jack hadn’t. Well, now he had. He’d also spent entirely too much time pulling Christmas decorations out of places they should not be.

So he was bone-deep tired and annoyed at humanity, his leg hurt like hell and might be starting a pressure sore, his best friend wasn’t talking to him, and to top it all off, it was his fiftieth birthday. He generally viewed birthdays as proof he’d survived another year and that all the various things in his life that might have killed him hadn’t managed it. He didn’t celebrate birthdays, exactly, but he respected them.

He was not feeling respectful right now. He was feeling like finding the nearest bar and drowning his entire existence in bad beer. He was feeling like going and buying a pack of cigarettes, even though he’d given them up at Landstuhl, mostly because they’d suggested a nicotine cessation plan at just the right moment. He was feeling like being anywhere but here, if that was possible, which it wasn’t because Darrow didn’t work like that.

So, yeah, he was cranky. He stopped in front of his door to fish out his keys, then hissed as his lower back cramped. He breathed through it, but it didn’t help his mood at all. As soon as he got inside, he was taking the damn prosthetic off and then calling for some Thai delivery because he did not feel like cooking.

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"That is completely fair," Jack agreed. "You wouldn't do it right anyway."

Jack still tended to make his bed to the standards of his drill sergeants. It was just habit at this point, almost as ingrained as walking out of a treatment room and sanitizing his hands. Robby had never had drill sergeants, although they'd both had charge nurses who would have given any drill sergeant a run for his money.

He ran his fingers over the fabric of the sheets one more time and realized that if he didn't move now, he was going to fall asleep on his own couch. His belly was full, his leg was less unhappy, he'd had a few sips of beer, and he wasn't arguing with Robby. He was done.

"I would probably fuck up the corners," admits Robby. He studies Jack for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. "You need anything else, or should you just go to bed while I tidy the kitchen?" Robby's got no intention of going anywhere. There's still things that they need to sort out, but that'll come, when it comes. Until then, this will do. It'll more than do.

"I should go to bed," he agreed, because of course Robby had noticed that Jack was fading fast. He'd take a shower first, just to wash off the day and the hospital, but he could sit down for that too. Accessibility features were useful for a lot of things, including being really tired.

"If you don't hear the shower go off in fifteen minutes, knock on the door to make sure I didn't pass out against the wall."

He was mostly joking, but not entirely. He did take very fast showers most of the time, which was another habit he'd never broken.

"I can do that," says Robby, getting up and gathering up his mostly drink beer and the other one he'd opened. There's no way he's going to be able to sleep straight away, so he'll clean up and then read and drink the other beer or something before he goes to bed.

"You need anything bringing through?"

Jack pushed himself up from the couch and onto his crutches with a groan that Robby was almost certainly going to give him shit about. Jack was looking forward to it.

"Do you mind grabbing the bottle of Vicodin from the kitchen?"

Robby knew as well as Jack did that it was better to store drugs in a non-humid area, so Jack kept them in a cabinet in the kitchen. He also gave less than no fucks about Robby knowing exactly what medications he had been prescribed.

Setting the beers down on the counter, Robby goes straight to the cabinet that he knows Jack keeps his prescriptions in. He glances through the bottles until he finds the Vicodin and grabs it, pausing to also grab a water from the fridge.

"Nightstand, or..?"

"Yeah, thanks," Jack said as he crutched his way to the bathroom with a soft chorus of "fucks". Some parts of him were still angry, even if his brain and heart weren't.

"Are you on tomorrow? If you are, I won't be offended if you leave so you can get enough sleep over the snoring."

He had lost track of everyone's schedule at this point, but then he was pretty sure the scheduling team had lost track of everyone's schedule at this point and they were all just showing up and seeing what happened.

"I'm off tomorrow," says Robby as he walks into Jack's room and sets water and pills down on the nightstand on the side of the bed that he knows that Jack sleeps on. The double doors that had previously led to the walk in closet and now lead to his cell of a guest room are open, and he gently closes them before he moves back out into the apartment to put away left overs and do the dishes.

Even if he was working tomorrow, he's got no intention of going anywhere.;

"The good citizens of Darrow will have to survive without our expert care, then," Jack noted. He slipped his arms out of his crutches and braced one hand on the doorframe, then put the other out to stop Robby, who was clearly heading back towards the kitchen and dining room.

"Hey, c'mere," he said, and wrapped Robby in a hug. He could balance on one foot for a fucking long time if he needed to, but he was also not averse to using Robby as a little bit of support in the hug.

He hadn't really realised how much he needed it until it was happening, until Jack had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Instinctively, his arm goes around Jack's waist, supporting him as much as he's hugging him. He closes his eyes for a second. He knows he shouldn't linger, but he also suspects that Jack won't mind.

He'd hugged Robby sort of on impulse, but as soon as Robby almost melted into him, he knew it was the right decision. Jack leaned a little of his weight on Robby, but Robby also put an arm around Jack to help. There was a metaphor or something here and he wasn't going to mention it now. Instead he stood there, hugging Robby. Eventually one of them was going to have to move, but it wasn't going to be Jack unless he was at risk of falling asleep on Robby.

It takes real effort to break the hug, one hand cradling the back of Jack's skull for a moment before he lets him go.

"Happy birthday, Jack," he says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll be here if you need me. Okay?"

Jack dropped his head to Robby's shoulder when he felt Robby cradle the back of his head. Robby had held countless babies just like this and Jack was pretty sure he felt as secure as the babies generally did. Eventually the hug had to end, and it did, but not before it definitely crossed the line from "hug" to "holding each other". Jack did not give one flying fuck and he didn't think Robby did either.

When it did end, he stepped back and borrowed the door frame again, then made sure he made eye contact with Robby in case Robby was going to get all shy again.

"You always are, brother," he said firmly, to make sure Robby understood Jack wasn't talking about just now.

He's used to Jack's eye contact and, for once, he didn't make him work for it. He nods, swallowing hard.

"I do my best, man," he says. That's all he can do.

A necessary argument

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