Entry tags:
2001 AU
He’d gotten his orders two weeks ago, but he’d known they were coming down the pipe since September 11. The country was at war again and war meant casualties. Casualties meant medics and that meant deployment orders for one Sergeant Jack Abbot among countless others. He’d been given a week of preparation leave, which he was supposed to use to go visit his family and wrap things up, but there wasn’t a lot of family he wanted to visit and not much to wrap up. He didn’t even have a dog.
Instead he booked a flight to Seattle. If anyone asked, he said it was because Seattle was cold and rainy and he thought he was going to be short on cold and rain for a while, or at least rain. Afghanistan and Iraq could get really fucking cold in the winter. He knew that from the stories people told about the Gulf War. He ought to call it the first Gulf War now, he guessed.
He’d actually chosen Seattle because he’d texted Robby “just to check in” as soon as he’d gotten his orders and Robby had mentioned that he’d be at the ACEP annual assembly in Seattle this week. They’d seen each other several times after Jack’s first trip to New Orleans, but then he’d PCSed from Polk and their relationship had dwindled to text messages and emails, all of which were carefully written so that he was friendly but not too friendly, in case anyone ever saw something. Even still, if Jack was going to the other side of the planet and potentially (maybe even probably) not coming back, he wanted to see Robby again. He’d told Robby he’d be visiting Seattle at the same time and just left out the part where he made his travel arrangements after he’d talked to Robby.
He had a room at a hotel near the convention center and its hotels but not too near, and he had arranged to meet Robby in a bar that was between the convention center and Jack’s hotel. They tended to meet in bars since it was a completely public and defensible place to be, even if they didn’t always stay in the bar.
He was sitting in a booth this time instead of on a barstool, turning a beer bottle in his hands and waiting for Robby. He was late. Jack wondered if Robby would actually show or if this whole trip had been a stupid idea.
Instead he booked a flight to Seattle. If anyone asked, he said it was because Seattle was cold and rainy and he thought he was going to be short on cold and rain for a while, or at least rain. Afghanistan and Iraq could get really fucking cold in the winter. He knew that from the stories people told about the Gulf War. He ought to call it the first Gulf War now, he guessed.
He’d actually chosen Seattle because he’d texted Robby “just to check in” as soon as he’d gotten his orders and Robby had mentioned that he’d be at the ACEP annual assembly in Seattle this week. They’d seen each other several times after Jack’s first trip to New Orleans, but then he’d PCSed from Polk and their relationship had dwindled to text messages and emails, all of which were carefully written so that he was friendly but not too friendly, in case anyone ever saw something. Even still, if Jack was going to the other side of the planet and potentially (maybe even probably) not coming back, he wanted to see Robby again. He’d told Robby he’d be visiting Seattle at the same time and just left out the part where he made his travel arrangements after he’d talked to Robby.
He had a room at a hotel near the convention center and its hotels but not too near, and he had arranged to meet Robby in a bar that was between the convention center and Jack’s hotel. They tended to meet in bars since it was a completely public and defensible place to be, even if they didn’t always stay in the bar.
He was sitting in a booth this time instead of on a barstool, turning a beer bottle in his hands and waiting for Robby. He was late. Jack wondered if Robby would actually show or if this whole trip had been a stupid idea.

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"I was seeing someone, but she decided it'd be better if we split up as soon as I got the news."
He'd been hurt by that, but he'd respected it. She hadn't wanted to date a deployed soldier and that was fair. There was a reason Dear John letters were a thing everyone knew about it. It was probably nicer that she'd told him upfront instead of him hearing about it downrange.
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Jack doesn't immediately knock his foot away so Robby leaves it where it is. The idea that it's stopping Jack from closing his legs sends a shiver of heat through him.
"I'm sorry, man. That sucks."
Jack doesn't strike him as the kind of guy who'd be here if he had a girlfriend, so Robby supposes that he ought to be grateful that she tapped out. Even if he does hate the thought of Jack deploying to somewhere like Afghanistan.
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"But I don't blame her. She wanted someone who was actually around, not on the other end of a really bad phone line for however long it is. And that's assuming I actually come back."
He wasn't being defeatist. He was being realistic. It was a war. People died. Medics died. She didn't want a boyfriend who might come home in a coffin.
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Jack's doing it on purpose and Robby knows he is, but that doesn't stop him feeling like he's going to go out of his mind every time Jack sucks on one of his own fingers. He doesn't, though. He settles for shifting his foot beneath the table, nudging Jack's legs a little further apart, his expression carefully blank as he does.
Robby's an emergency physician. He knows that people die. Soldiers die. He still doesn't like thinking about it.
"I could do that," he says. "The bad phone line, I mean."
It feels like a big admission.
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"That'd be nice," he agreed. As far as he knew, the phone booths were like the shower booths -- private only so far -- but he wasn't likely to be saying anything that an old friend wouldn't say anyway.
"Don't feel obligated, though. The time zone differences aren't great and I know you prefer day shifts.
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"What about email?"
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There was one wing left and he motioned to it.
"All yours, man, if you want it."
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"Something like that." He looks at the wing for a long moment and then he shifts, putting his foot back on the floor and sitting up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Honestly, I think I'd rather watch you eat it."
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"Another round or head out?"
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"Need to hit those stores on our way," he points out. "And we've got a lot of catching up to do."
Mostly he just wants to be somewhere he can put his hands on Jack in private.
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He had no idea what their respective incomes were, but he was paying for this. He'd let Robby buy the booze, if he wanted to, but he was paying for the meal.
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He doesn't argue about the check. He'll get the next one.
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“Ready? There’s a liquor store and a pharmacy on the way to the hotel. I think they might actually be right next to each other. If one medicine doesn’t work for you, try the the other, I guess.”
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“The hotel’s just a couple blocks this way. Rock paper scissors on who buys the booze and who goes to the pharmacy?”
Two dudes could buy a bottle of liquor together without raising eyebrows. Two dudes could not buy a condoms and lube together, especially if one of them was also holding a bottle of booze.
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He goes paper. He always does.
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“You win. Your call which one you do and I’ll handle the other one. If you take the liquor store, though, no vodka.”
Very bad vodka had been the reason they’d realized they wanted each other in the first place, or at least decided to do something about it, but Jack still avoided that shit in memory of the hangover the next day.
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He still didn’t know what Robby had paid for his smuggled bourbon and he didn’t want to know. Robby probably didn’t want to remember either.
The pharmacy was first, so Jack motioned to it.
“You got any preferences for what I pick up?”
There was no one around them, so he could ask if Robby cared about brands or whatnot. Jack didn’t — most of the time his condoms came from the US Government. They had a vested interest in their soldiers not coming down with the clap.
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"I trust your judgement," he said, grinning. "Just make sure you stock up, soldier."
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“Roger that,” he agreed, and headed into the pharmacy. There were any number of options, but he just picked up a twelve-pack. If they went through more than that, neither of them would be able to walk easily. He picked up a couple of options for lube and some deodorant, since he really had forgotten to pack that. He also got another toothbrush and some toothpaste in case Robby wanted to brush his teeth at some point. And then at the last moment, he got some granola bars, in case they were hungry but didn’t want to get dressed and leave the hotel room.
The bored-looking clerk didn’t even blink at his assortment of items and double-bagged them for him when he asked nicely. With the double bag, the condom box graphics didn’t show through the plastic.
He left the pharmacy and lit a cigarette while he waited for Robby. For all he knew, Robby had quit, but Jack hadn’t.
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In the liquor store, Robby grabs beer and considers for a moment before he buys a mid-price bottle of bourbon. It's probably about as good as the one they drank that first time in Sarajevo, but it costs him about half as much. He grabs bottled water and soda too.
"Okay," he says, walking up behind Jack and maybe leaning up against him for a second. "Good to go."
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He glanced down at the plain brown paper bag that Robby was holding and nodded. He could see the neck of a bourbon bottle and a few cans of beers in there, plus water and maybe soda.
“Water, good idea. Gotta stay hydrated. I tell soldiers that all the fuckin’ time, not that they listen to me.”
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"Well, don't look at me," says Robby, taking the cigarette and slipping it between his lips, bending his head to light it. "Doctors make terrible patients." He tilts his head. "You going to show me this hotel or not?"
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The hotel was a mid-range anonymous kind of hotel and Jack took one more drag of the cigarette before he stubbed it out in the ash tray next to the door. He fished in his pocket for the little plastic card that was his hotel key, then held it up between two fingers.
“When I checked in, there was no one at the front desk unless I rang a little bell, so, should be fine, but I have two keys in case you want to go in separately.”
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