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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The elevator was slow, so he just took the stairs and then got into his room. He stripped his jacket off and then looked around the room. He kept his shit neat just as a general rule, so nothing needed to be done. Everything except the condoms went on the desk and then he just took a deep breath.
This was happening. It was real.
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"Hey," he says, smiling. "Doing okay?"
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“Weirdly nervous, actually,” Jack admitted, because he could admit this to Robby. It might have started off as just physical and it’d certainly never been exclusive, but they both knew there were some emotions involved here now.
“I didn’t know how tonight was gonna go. I didn’t know if you’d even show up. And you did and now I’m nervous.”
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"You don't have to be nervous. I'm right here and I'm going to be here as long as I can."
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They were alone, they would be alone all night, and they could do whatever they wanted.
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He slid his arms up and around Robby’s shoulders as they traded soft kisses. Robby never seemed to gain weight. He was always long and lean, although there was strength there as well, since he hauled patients around and popped joints back into place.
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He slips one hand under the hem of Jack's shirt, pressing his palm against bare skin.
"I missed this," he murmurs. "Fuck. I missed you."
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He’d felt the same way but hadn’t wanted to say anything in case it seemed too creepy or clingy. This was supposed to just be sex, after all. It just hadn’t stayed that way for him and apparently not for Robby either.
“Same. I don’t fucking care that this can’t be anything the world knows about. I want whatever I can get with you.”
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More then anything, he wants to make sure that Jack feels good.
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“I feel like someone just handed me a lottery ticket and told me I had to pick which way I’d like to get my million dollars when I wasn’t even expecting to win ten.”
Which was to say, he had no idea what he wanted, other than Robby, and that wasn’t helpful.
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"I wouldn't say I'm worth a million," says Robby, and then he twists his fingers in the hem of Jack's shirt. "Both of us fewer clothes, for a start."
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He grins and strips off his own shirt.
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Jack took his own moment of appreciation for Robby’s lean, muscular body. No new tattoos, or at least none that he could see yet. He leaned in and kissed each of the tattoos on Robby’s biceps. They seemed appropriate for this moment. Jack wasn’t fatalistic, but he was realistic. He might die and he’d try to love his fate if he could.
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Being around Jack again after so long kind of makes him feel crazy.
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“I’m not gonna stop you.”
He worked on unfastening Robby’s belt and then undid the button of his jeans before slipping the zipper down. He wasn’t deliberately avoiding touching Robby’s dick, but he also didn’t try to touch it.
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"Fuck, I missed you," he says, dragging Jack in for another kiss.
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“Missed you too,” he managed to say before his mouth was more occupied.
He got his hand onto Robby’s dick as well, and thumbed over the head through the fabric.
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"God," he says, shoving his thumbs under the waistband of Jack's boxers and pushing them down, stripping him. "Tell me what you want first. Lemme hear."
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“You liked to hear me talk,” he said. “I remember that. You liked it when I did what you say and you liked it when I talked.”
He pushed Robby towards the bed gently.
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He lets himself be pushed backwards towards the bed, pushing down his own pants and underwear, pausing to fumble out of them so he's completely naked.
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Jack got out of his own clothes probably about as fast as he’d left the gas chamber in basic training. He didn’t trip over himself, but he was very naked very fast.
Once they were both naked, he wrapped his arms around Robby and pulled him in for another kiss.
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"Well?" he asks, breathless, between kisses. "You gonna indulge me?"
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“I want you to fuck me,” Jack said. “And I want to fuck you. And then sleep and then maybe do it again, or maybe put my mouth on you or have yours on me. I just want all of you, as much as I can have as long as I can have.”
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