Archive of Our Own

The groceries beat Jack to Robby’s place, but not by much. The milk’s not even sweaty. There’s a good chance one or both of the house’s inhabitants are asleep when he opens the door, so he resists the urge to belt out a cancel worthy Ricky Ricardo impression. The curlicue-script-on-a-heart sentiment of it is definitely swelling in his chest, though. Home. This was almost his home, eleven years ago. He tiptoed right up to the threshold, then stumbled back. Now he’s powering through the door with about thirty pounds of freight per arm, because fuck multiple trips. Robby and the baby are waiting for him.

As swiftly as he can, Jack brings everything in and stashes it where it belongs. He takes a decidedly smug satisfaction in his familiarity with the kitchen. The cereal still lives on the same shelf he used to pull it down from on all those mornings that he woke up in Robby’s bed. The leftovers in the fridge are predictably color coded by lid- red for Italian. Inside the bread box there’s a cluster of heart shaped apple stickers that he stuck there, ages ago. The ceramic olive oil bottle he left behind is still in service, too. The only foodstuff Jack has to guess about the home of is the baby formula, but he knows how Robby thinks. Jack spots the Dr. Brown’s pitcher he liberated from PTMC on the countertop, opens the cabinet right above it, and voilà. A few spare bottles and what’s left of the formula he packed up last night are crowded in with the mugs.

Jack frowns at the wipes and diaper boxes, still wayward once everything else has been put away. Those are likely to be pieces in a very large game of Jenga, later.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

(RR)

My fridge was totally empty
so I’ve got some groceries
scheduled for 8ish. Think
you’ll be here by then to
bring them in?

Wild horses couldn’t drag me.

Maybe don’t turn your nose up
at them too quickly... They
might help to carry the metric 
fuckton of diapers I ordered
into the house.

In that case, yeehaw.

Today 8:08 AM

Shhh 

That wasn’t me, that 
was the horses.

Before he heads upstairs, Jack takes off his shoes and leaves them by the front door. The fewer fomites he brings into that little baby’s habitat, the better he’ll feel about her very quick and dirty homecoming. He creeps his way to the bedroom, his heart inching its way up his throat with every step.

“Hey,” he says when he gets to the doorway. “Made me think I woke her up.”

Robby’s replying smile is half obscured by the baby cuddled up on his bare chest. He’s an island of calm in a room that otherwise looks like Godzilla just came stomping through. Besides the PTMC biohazard bags stuffed with a few days’ worth of diapers in the corner, the closet is spewing a toppled pile of linens, a suitcase is currently substituting for Robby’s sock drawer, and the sock drawer has been pulled out and buttressed by two stacks of books to serve as a makeshift bassinet.

“Just messing with you,” Robby chuckles.

Jack toes aside a few scattered books that didn’t make the architectural cut, pulls off his own shirt, and then climbs into bed next to Robby. He angles his prosthetic so it won’t cross paths with anyone’s flesh, and then posts up in kissing range of Robby’s left shoulder. A little shakily, Jack reaches out to give the baby’s back a rub while Robby holds her safely in place.

“You get any sleep?” Jack asks.

“Some,” Robby says. “She was an angel when we first got in. Slept in the car seat so I could shower and eat. Then we tried the drawer on and off for a while. Now here we are.”

Jack hums a kiss to Robby’s shoulder. “Mhmm. Here we are...”

“You get any sleep?”

“Ha, and I cannot stress this enough, ha.” Jack says. “Very funny joke. Reminds me why I like you so much.”

Robby does his best to temper his laugh so he doesn’t jostle the baby. “Let’s see if we can guess,” he grins to the baby. “It was an all night stomach pump-a-thon, sprinkled with celebrity appearances by burns, brawlers, and the always lovely Miss Identified Panic Attack.”

“It really was a night to remember.” Jack smiles, watching the baby watch Robby. “I’m guessing you performed a few minor miracles, yourself?”

“You mean besides winning back my ex?” Robby grins. “I mean, yeah. If that’s what you wanna call managing groceries, emails, and fostering forms, on top of two feedings and a blowout… sure. I DoorDashed a real bassinet, too. That should be here soon…”

“No more slummin’ it in your tighty whities for this little lady,” Jack says, giving her ear a tickle.

Robby gasps back at the baby when she gasps. “Yeah. When the stores start opening, I'll leave you with Jack,” he tells her. “I’ll go get some real furniture, so it's ready for the home study. Get you a big old load of other baby loot, too,” he says. Then Robby turns his head toward Jack. “If you wanna sleep until I leave, might be a good idea.”

Jack’s been awake for all but four of the last thirty-six hours, but he shakes his head. “I think I’ll be awake as long as you’re here,” he tells Robby. “I’m kinda jazzed out of my mind.”

“Jazzed, huh?”

Robby’s dark eyes twinkle as he grins irresistibly. Of course, Jack has to lean in to kiss him properly. Hello, and I’m back, and Get fucking used to it.

“Jazzed,” Jack repeats after, a bit breathless.

“Just like the first time I got you in this bed.”

“Oh, I remember,” Jack snorts. “Please tell me you’ve replaced the mattress since then.”

“In like, 2020.” Robby rolls his eyes. “I’m not that much of a mess…”

“No comment.”

Robby rolls his eyes and finds his phone on the other side of him and passes it over to Jack, open on a note app. “You wanna take a look at my list, see if there’s anything you’d add?”

“Of course.” Jack lays his head against Robby’s shoulder as he scrolls. “Jesus Christ. It’s got subheadings,” he winces.

“You can take the boy outta the clinic, but you can’t take the clinical formatting standards outta the boy,” Robby tells the baby.

Clearly, he loves having a peanut gallery who hasn’t already heard all his jokes.

CYF REQUIREMENTS

Paperwork:

main application
foundling report
formal petition in court- Mon
my profile - Tues
Jack’s profile- - Tues
family biography - Tues
ongoing childcare plan - 30d
references - 30d Janey/Dana/Wolke, Tiffany?
my ChildLine check
Jack’s
my criminal background check
Jack’s
my financial info - Tues
Jack’s

Other:

interview w/ caseworker - Tues
home inspection - Fri
medical exams - 30d
agency policy and procedure training - annual
lawyer - ASAP

It’s a bit jarring for Jack to see his sister’s name in the middle of Robby’s list, but it just goes to show he’s really wrapping his head around the angles. The store-by-store shopping segment of the list is less sensational, but just as thorough. Robby’s already picked out the specific model of big ticket items he wants from Ikea and thought of many finer details, like baby nail clippers and a sun shade for the car window.

“You’re kinda crushing it,” Jack tells Robby. “Told you my social security number- what? Seven hours ago?”

“The twelve labors of Hercules ain’t got nothing on me,” Robby says, giving his shoulder a performative dust off.

“Maybe hang on before you spring for a convertible stroller, though. We had like, six people with Covid babies on night shift alone. Somebody we know must have one collecting dust by now.”

“True. Okay. That’s a you job then,” Robby says.

Probably a good idea to resolve that sooner rather than later, since Jack’s the one who technically stole the car seat they do have from the hospital... Though getting a write up for theft would be a really fun way to break all this to admin. 

To make it official, Jack goes ahead and adds a new section to the list, and scrapes some things off of Robby’s plate.


JACK

stroller
profile paperwork
locate financial/other paperwork
med exam
ref from Tiff
Robby therapist recs
put together baby room
show baby brag worthy 1st movie
name baby???

When he’s done, Jack hands Robby back his phone, then digs out his own to fire off a text in pursuit of a stroller.

“I assume you want to put her room in the study?”

“The study of how adorable someone can possibly be,” Robby confirms, brushing a kiss to the top of the baby’s head.

Jack is struck with the sort of urge that makes birds gather sticks, and people max out their credit cards at Pottery Barn. “Let me take care of switching it over,” he says. “Anything in there that needs to be somewhere else, I can put in the truck and store it over at mine until we figure things out.”

“That’s smart.” But Robby clears his throat pointedly. “Now, when you say ‘mine’... do you mean you still intend to li-”

“Semantics. I’m moving in,” Jack declares, putting to bed any ambiguity. “You’re mine, this baby is mine, everything else I can take or leave.”

“That works for me,” Robby whispers to the baby, his eyes crinkling in delight. “That’s cool with you, right?”

Before Jack can settle in for some emphatic cuddling, he gets a reply to his text. 

(TS)

but i thrive in adversity!

You’re not getting reimbursed
for adversity. Let it go too long,
it usually it comes out of your
security deposit, instead.

good point.

Take pictures of everything,
just in case.

this will make a fun flashback
on snapchat in a few years.

Today 8:31AM

Need you to run a quick
covert op for me. 

hey, i’m ready to start over as
a chimney sweep at this point.
what’s the job?

Post a flyer in the staff lounge.
“WANTED:2 in 1 BABY STROLLER/
CAR SEAT. Needed ASAP.
Willing to pick up. Name your price.”

Contact info would be
just my number.

would this have anything to do
with baby jane doe being
discharged to robby last night

This message will self
destruct in 10, 9, 8...

Once he stows his phone in his pocket, Jack relaxes into the bed again, wrapping an arm around his little clan. “All right, kid. Working on gettin’ you your first set of wheels, so you can ride in style...”

“We’re gonna have to give her a curfew or she’ll be out raising hell all night,” says Robby.

Curfew would never have occurred to Jack. His own childhood was too negligent for that sort of thing. Exactly the opposite of his intentions here.

“What was yours?” he asks.

Robby scoffs, pointing his nose up nobly. “I didn’t need a curfew. I was too obedient.”

Jack almost chokes. He sits himself further up the pillows to better gawk at Robby. “A word I would never describe you with today.”

“What? You know I love for things to be done correctly.”

“That is not the same thing... But it does explain a lot about you as a person if you think so.” 

“Mostly it is! Try me,” Robby insists, with a flirty flutter of his lashes. “See how obedient I can be.”

He’s clearly hoping for a ‘Kiss me’, but that’s not what he gets.

“Go to therapy,” Jack says, automatically.

Robby turns back to the baby, but not to be cutesy with her. His body has gone stony. “Well. I guess I walked into that...”

“Yup.”

Jack waits patiently for the customary wriggle, the Robby defining insistence to go his own willful way, and sure enough…

“But seeing as it wouldn’t be kosher for us to share your guy-”

“I know. I already put it on the list. I will get you some other recommendations,” Jack promises him. But then Jack has to fulfill a promise he made to himself- would have made to his mother, if he still could. “Thing is- and I need you to listen to this… You can’t keep scaring me like you did last night,” he tells Robby.

He turns his head just enough to look at Jack.

“You can’t run away from your shit. There’s a baby now. You have to get help. You have to talk to me. And you have to deal with it. Here.”

Robby reads Jack’s expression for a long time, like he’s memorizing the severity of it to call upon later. Then he sighs. “Okay, Jack... I will.”

“Thank you.”

Once again, Jack nuzzles up to Robby’s shoulder. He lets out an exhale that must contain molecules he’s been holding in since he first found Robby on the wrong side of the railing.

Still, Robby’s brow is pinched and low. “I guess I gotta stop dragging my feet sometime,” he says.

After a quiet moment of thought about how no one is harder on Robby than Robby, Jack raises his hand to gently stroke the baby's back. 

“Sometimes you gotta drag and crawl for a bit before you can walk,” he observes. “Then the next thing we know, you’ll be dancing around to disco or some other dork shit.”

The tension in Robby’s body gives way to tenderness again. “Aww, c’mon now. Let's not slander entire genres in front of her,” he says. “We have to let her decide for herself-”

“-That disco sucks.”

Robby laughs belly deep, jostling the baby on top of him. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s Jack’s forbidding taste, but either way she’s offended. The baby wails her protest and clutches her tiny fists in miniature fury.

Of course Jack already felt for her, for being Robby’s dream come true, but one on one the baby is still her own person to be bonded with and fallen for. While Jack had no doubt the moment would come, he’s surprised by just how instant the click into place is. Look at her go, making a scene. She’s fucking great. Nobody gets to out diva Robby and steal his thunder like this.

I’m sorry, did you two think you had drama? Everything’s actually about Me!

The grip on him is visceral, clutching around his heart and brain stem and squeezing out all sense. Suddenly, Jack knows he couldn’t deny her anything. He’ll have to build up some immunity quick, or by the time she can talk he’ll be a total pushover.

“Now we’ve done it,” Robby sighs. He pats the baby’s back apologetically. “I should probably be getting up anyway...”

“I got her,” Jack says, already scooping her little body from Robby’s chest to his own. They all shuffle around a bit, and settle into a mirror image of their previous positions. “Shhh, baby… Here, gimme that booger. There you go,” Jack smiles at her, even as she continues to cry. “You go ahead and make yourself comfortable...”

“If she takes after me at all, she’ll be right at home between your tits,” Robby hums.

This poor girl had a stressful few days full of loss and strange people and even stranger procedures. From here on out, it's Jack’s job to try and make it better.

“Shh shh shh. Don’t worry. I didn’t really mean what I said about disco,” Jack soothes the baby. He gives her diaper a check with his thumb, but no. Just upset her spotlight was stolen. “You can like whatever music you want. We’ll never know the difference,” he tells her, softly. “Headphones are pretty good these days.”

Despite his very busy agenda, Robby lingers to watch them. “They’ll probably beam music straight into our brains pretty soon,” he muses.

“What you really gotta be careful with is musicians,” Jack continues telling the fussy baby, in his most pleasing, pediatric tones. “I dated a bass player once, and I never really recovered from it. Sometimes I’ll be minding my own business, listening to Radiohead, and I’ll remember the time he waxed poetic about the use of counterpoint in rock music. He went on for so long that I started t-”

Robby raises a finger to his lips. “Shhhhe doesn’t need to know the details...”

The baby yawns and then goes calm. She stares at Jack with dull eyes, like she just came into the room but forgot what it was she wanted from it.

“...Counterpoint does make for a good lullaby, though, gotta admit.”

Jack huffs as gentle a laugh as he can, so as not to stir her again. “I know. That was part of your lecture.”

With a fond shake of his head, Robby leans in to kiss Jack, and then starts peeling himself up from the bed. “Okay,” he sighs. “I gotta go print out enough documents to deprive this beautiful child of an entire rainforest...”

“When's she getting fed again?”

“Sometime around nine thirty, probably.” Robby pauses at the side of the bed with a tilt of his head. “What about you? You saw the groceries, can I heat up something for you?”

Jack smirks at him. “You always heat me up, hot shot.”

Robby smolders and bites his lip. “All riiight, okaaay... You’ve still got game, huh?”

“Could just be sleep deprivation lowering both our standards," Jack points out.

“In that case, I don’t hate it. Don’t know why everyone else complains.”

Before Robby pulls away, Jack reaches out to give his hip a contented pat. “You don’t have to add me to your list, man. If you don’t want ‘em, I’ll just eat the pasta leftovers later when I feed her. It looked good.”

Robby laces his fingers behind his head and stretches. “Soooo, you’re really sure you don’t want me to open the front door, close my eyes, and pretend you were never here, we never spoke last night?”

“Nope. You can’t pull that shit, I’ve got a witness.” Jack points at the baby. “Back me up.”

The baby says nothing, of course, but regards his finger with wonder.

“That’s baby for ‘you’re stuck with us’.”

While he smiles, the way Robby holds himself is still a bit shrinking and hesitant. “At least until Tuesday,” he says, his eyes fixed on her. “Then it's thirty days at a time.”

This is the part Jack has been working overtime not to think about. Anything could happen. For a start, the baby’s parents could turn up. Sure, there’s a felony in the mix that would complicate the case, but family reunification is always the goal when it comes to these things. They could haul Mom or Dad off for child abandonment, but Grandpa or Auntie could be totally clean and desperate to get this baby back home. Or, if there’s no biological family, there may be some other fostering applicant that the powers that be prefer to Robby and Jack. Someone younger and straighter, or more familiar with the process. Someone who didn’t shack up with their ex five minutes ago, or ever need professional support for their mental health.

“Okay, so. A. We are not gonna disappear the minute you walk out of the room, Robby. And B... Don't worry about thirty days from now,” Jack tells him, as much as himself. 

Robby lets out a nervous laugh. “Any thoughts on how?” 

“Focus on how fast you can do those print jobs and get back in here, so that I can do a job for you.” To illustrate his meaning, Jack pokes his tongue into his cheek.

At that, Robby’s eyes go wide. “Oh yeah, that does the trick,” he nods. “See ya.”

He practically leaves a Roadrunner poof of dust in the bedroom. Sure, that ploy’s not going to work every time, but right now? Jack’s not gonna knock it.

“We’ll get through this just fine, yeah?”

Hard to look at the baby’s flawless little face and not think so.

For only the second time now, Jack is left alone with her. There’s no rush on this occasion. There’s no professional pretense of the hospital setting here, that he is a doctor and this is a charge of his department. This is as personal as it gets. This is the bed he shared with the man he forced himself to give up rather than deprive him of this very thing. She’s meant to be their daughter... right? Is that crazy to believe? Life has been too long and too hard not to have some balance coming their way. Something sweet and good, that keeps them going for the rest of their years. Of course, now that Jack has Robby back, he’ll never let him go no matter what. But if they lost her, after she’s been here in their arms? They’d always know they could have had more.

Fuck. Jack just got her settled, he is not going to lose his cool and set her off again. A quiet, manly tear will do, and then no more deep thinking. Super annoying to realize that is exactly what all that counterpoint shit is for, by the way. Singing to babies absorbs the left and right brain. No existential worries, just vibes.

But Jack’s not that desperate just yet.

While they’re introducing themselves, he figures he and the baby may as well co-author a few talk to type emails, so she can learn some more useful pleasantries. They do one to his therapist (Hope you’re enjoying the holiday weekend), one to his PCP (Thanks in advance), and one to Tiffany. Her’s lends itself to explaining some family history for the baby, of course. They ask how the kids are doing, follow up on the business of Jack’s last phone call, and hint that they should probably have another one soon. (Look forward to hearing from you! :) )

It's not hard to figure out why afterward, Jack finds himself humming the sort of music Mom played in the car when it was just her and the kids. Him and Tiff used to beg for her to put on the radio instead the babyish Peter, Paul and Mary tape that entertained Stephanie. But now here it is, called back into service, with some updates for his own amusement. 

Hush little baby, don’t say a word,
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,
If that mockingbird fucks off,
Papa’s gonna buy you some rice pilaf-

That’s when Robby reappears, waving a handful of papers and narrowing his eyes at Jack. “Was that...?”

“No. You need your hearing checked.”

“Of course. Silly me.” Robby lays down the papers on top of a bookcase and then props up his elbow there, too. “So, you’ll never guess who’s ink cartridge gave up the ghost,” he says, much more merrily than he should.

“Uh oh. Is the profile I gotta fill out in there, at least?”

“Ah.” Robby frowns. “Good news, bad news about that one. It can be filled out electronically before it's printed. I’ll email it to you. But, it is twenty-nine pages long.”

And Jack thought the waste of time and trees that is the prior authorization racket was excessive. 

“Look,” Jack whispers. “Just the idea of it has knocked her out cold.” He groans and splays his fingers to better support the baby’s head while he sits up.

“You found the off switch,” Robby remarks.

“Not sure I like your tone of surprise,” Jack tsks back at him. “On the scale of Guttenberg to Selleck, I’m at least a solid Danson with babies.”

“I do like his body of work the most, of the three,” Robby says, thoughtfully. “Anyway. I’ll get more ink while I’m out. Oughta be a thrill to see how cheap it is compared to Similac.”

As smoothly as he can, Jack brings the sleeping baby over to her makeshift bed and lays her down. Her little limbs adjust to being swaddled, but otherwise she doesn’t stir. 

“Well at least the Similac’s working. Pretty sure she’s gained a pound since last night,” Jack says, climbing back into the bed.

Robby shrugs. “Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.”

He comes across the bed from the other side and meets Jack in the middle, blanketing him with his body. Jack wraps his arms around him and lets Robby’s mass tamp down any anxieties that might otherwise spike up. Oh, right. That’s what he used to rely on before therapy. The combination of the two tactics ought to be even more beneficial.

“You’re bigger than you used to be, too,” Jack notices.

“I know,” Robby groans, his face tucked into Jack’s neck. “I don’t swim anymore. I should get back into it.”

“That was not a complaint.”

“Oh, sure.” Robby lifts his head to better look at Jack, his eyebrow raised. “Doctor Abs Haver doesn’t care if I have the fitness of a Ford Pinto on cinderblocks.”

“Well, there’s no need to blow her college fund on a VIP gym membership,” Jack says, nodding his head toward the baby. “You've got your personal trainer back.”

“...True.”

“And for the record, you’re sexier than ever,” Jack says, narrowing his eyes at Robby.

“And you’re worried about my hearing? You need your vision checked.”

“No.” Jack moves to drag the tip of his nose along Robby’s cheek. He dots kisses down the length of one sideburn and then takes the turn along the top edge of his beard. “I could never think of a way to tell you- mmh- that wasn’t horny. I love that this is a 365 feature, now.” Jack noses around to the other side of Robby’s face for more the same treatment. “Mmm…The whole tall, dark, and burly- mm- chop down a tree then fuck in front of a log fire thing you got going on? It's brutally hot,” Jack purrs.

That convinces Robby enough to stop arguing and start kissing him. At first he holds Jack’s head between his gentle hands and takes soft, thorough stock of his lips and all the new lines on his face since the last time they really kissed. Then he threads his fingers deep into his hair, and he licks into Jack’s mouth, more and more enthralled by their reunion. After a particularly high pitched moan, Robby stops to laugh at his own desperation.

“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,” he recites.

He’s the same old egg head he’s always been, and Jack still can’t get enough of making a big show of having had enough of it.

“You like the wrinkles?”

“Mhmm.”

“Perv.”

“And I love the gray,” Robby tells Jack, giving his curls a tug that shoots straight down his spine.

“God.” Jack shivers a little. “I didn’t have any back then, did I?”

Robby stretches to kiss Jack’s forehead and bury his nose in his hairline. “It’s like a marble countertop,” he says, between the presses of his lips. “I see it and I want to feast.”

While that’s certainly a compelling sentiment, Jack’s mind is already made up. Right now should be about reassuring Robby, not him. He kisses Robby deep, and moves his grip down his body from his shoulder blades to his hips. With a push, he rolls him onto his back and then pins him in place with one thigh slotted between Robby’s. While they make out, Jack slips one palm slowly up and down his chest, like the tide on a beach. When their relaxed breathing matches, he pauses to admire the sight of his long ago lover laying in his arms once more. New tattoos, new wrinkles-

“I think you’ve got some of that new baby glow they talk about,” Jack smiles down at Robby.

Robby beams and wipes a hand at his face. “Maybe that's why I feel like I have a sunburn today,” he says. “But when I checked in the mirror I'm just… smiling.”

“Glad you’re smiling,” Jack says. He fits a hand to Robby’s chin, and rubs his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

“It feels weird,” Robby admits. “Feeling happy.”

“That’s how it is, when you’ve been down a long time. Up feels fuckin’ weird. But it’s real,” Jack assures him. “Yeah?”

Robby’s head rolls on his neck, but he can’t quite make up his mind to actually nod.

“You’re gonna learn to trust it again, when you feel good.” Jack bends to kiss Robby again. “It is real. I’m real. She’s real… We’ll get the things on your list taken care of and then we’ll make new lists.”

With a sniffle, Robby angles his face, asking for another kiss, another bit of comfort. After he gets it, he lets loose a tear. “I missed you,” he says, his voice small. “I miss me from back then, too.”

“He’s still in there,” Jack promises.

“Any chance Now You could time travel back to Old Me?”

With a sad smile, Jack gives Robby’s cheek a thumb stroke. “I would say if I could, you’ll be the first to know. But that might be a paradox... I don’t know. I don’t do as much hard sci-fi as you.”

Robby chokes out a laugh. “Yeah, you got it.”

“Besides,” Jack says, and of this he is certain, “I want to be here with you, now.”

Robby takes hold of Jack’s arm, tight. “It feels safer when I’m with you.”

Jack’s brows knit together in concern. “Are you worried about when you’re out alone today? We could go to the store together.”

No, Robby shakes his head. “I’ll be okay. And you need to sleep,” he reasons. “Just knowing you know where I’m at is good.” He sniffs again. “It didn’t feel like anyone knew. But you knew.”

It makes Jack ache to see him cry. He wants to hold Robby and never let him go. Never let him out of his sight. He wants to wrap Robby up in kevlar, and roll him around one of those big black boxes that roadies use to sneak celebrities into stadium venues. It’s only natural to want to protect someone he cares for, yes, but Jack has to trust him, too. No extreme, unilateral, preemptive, relationship ending moves like last time. 

“Whatever you need, Robby. You can always call and wake me up,” Jack reminds him. “Fuck, you can put your phone on speaker and just shove it in your pocket, if you have nothing to say. Can’t promise I won’t start pranking you like a fart keychain, but I’ll be there.”

Robby chuckles. “I probably will call you from Ikea just to gloat about getting meatballs,” he says. “I should get my whole rolodex rolling today, call Janey and Wolke about the letters of reference, too… Should probably ask Dana in person, though.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. He pats his hand on Robby’s chest. “Since you’ve got some time before you need the letters, maybe give her a chance to forget you’re a dick.”

Robby scrunches his nose. “What’s the turnaround time on that, do you think?”

“Forty-eight hours and some cannolis from Paddy Cake ought to do it.”

They laugh together, and it’s like a dam break. Hands start roaming again, teasing and pulling each other closer.

“And what’s your price?” Robby asks, as they move to align their mouths.

“Who, me? I don’t wanna forget your dick.”

This time when Jack kisses him, his hand stroking up and down Robby’s chest neglects to make the return trip north. He turns his wrist and pushes past the waistband of Robby’s sweats to take hold of him. His dick’s already a bit plump, and responds with a gamely twitch to Jack’s touch. Three or four tugs, a gentle squeeze of his balls, and a rub just beyond and he’s hard as a rock. Easier than Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start. 

The hand in Jack’s hair clenches tight as he circles his fingers just so. Robby pants into his mouth with each pump. “Ghh. You’re not fuckin’ around, are you?”

“Nope. Not this time.” Jack looks directly into Robby’s eyes as he jerks him off. Warm, seeping certainty flows free from the small, hardened place Jack has kept it for years. “I don’t wanna fuck around about you anymore,” he says. “I love you. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Robby nods, quickly.

“But you don’t have to-“

Robby reels him in for a nose smushing, skull grasping, hot breathed kiss that can barely connect between his whispered words. “Jack. I love you. I do…”

A not so unexpected pang of guilt throbs through Jack’s chest. “M’sorry what happened last time you said it, babe.”

Robby shuts his eyes and huffs. “I know.”

Okay, this is not the best time to drag all this up, but it has been really fucking hard to get Robby to admit to his own feelings lately.

Jack stifles Robby’s next moan with a biting kiss and then starts drawing his knees up under himself. “C’mon, scooch up so I don’t fall off the foot of the bed.”

They break apart for a minute to move.

“Hmm. Look at me,” Robby giggles to himself. “Being so obedient!”

“Shh. And get your sweats off.”

“Love to. Anything else?”

Jack stops and stares at Robby as he wrestles off his clothes. He always detested having socks on for sex. With all the cheat codes and details like that that Jack knows, he knows he could probably get Robby to agree to anything in the moment. But Jack doesn’t want to press his advantage on the big questions they still need to answer. He wants Robby to think about the future for himself. He needs to get back into the practice. He can figure out what that ought to look like. Robby’s an annoyingly smart guy, after all.

“After this… I’ll let you microwave the leftovers for me.”

“Of course, my darling,” Robby says, all syrupy.

Jack snorts. “Fuck off.” He checks his watch. Quarter past nine. He gives Robby’s calf a pat to hurry up. “We have like, no time before that baby’s gonna get hungry. Move it or lose it, man.”

Even without the rush, this is all a little more awkward than usual with Jack’s prosthetic still attached. He doesn’t want to club Robby with it, and he can’t kneel very steadily with an ankle that doesn’t bend, but as soon as there’s room to lay on his stomach, he’s in business. Robby wasn’t even done freeing one of his feet from his sweats, but he stops fighting with that the instant Jack gets his mouth on him.

“Oh shit.” His hands seek Jack’s hair, instead. “Yeah, no. Don’t wait up for me…”

Jack is already laser focused. He sucks on the head of Robby’s dick and lets the saliva drip down to his hand rather than try and swallow all of him down. Robby doesn’t really get off on deep throating anyway, and Jack is here to get this man off, pronto. He toys with the tip of him, eager, but withholding the more bespoke approach they both know is coming.

“Mmn. C’mon, babe. Please?” Robby begs.

Jack taunts him with featherlight fingers between his legs.

“C’mon, sexy. Mmhh. You know what I like…”

Fuck yeah, he does. Jack knows exactly how to touch him when he wants it to last, and how to do it when Robby needs it now. At the moment, they’re on the same end of that gamut as when they had a quickie in the bathroom of a bar during an off-site event, which- okay, yeah- was so fucking unsanitary, and a bad look for people so conscious of disease vectors and public health, but come on. They were freezing and wet and the ED raised $5K more than Surgery for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. What were they supposed to do, not fuck it off?

When he’s got all of Robby’s dick slick and pumping in one hand, Jack goes ahead and rubs his other thumb at his perineum.

“Jesus, Jack,” Robby hisses. His spine has a mind of its own, seemingly surprising him as it whips from one end to the other. “Hhh. That’s- yeah. Unff…”

The sound of Robby starting to lose control and find bliss is potent. Jack could ignore his bodily reaction if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t. He is so fucking done with using his will power to hold out on Robby. While Jack keeps one hand working on Robby’s dick, he quickly uses the other to adjust his own. He ruts into the mattress, teasing Robby just as much as with his mouth. Jack knows how it will excite him to see him get desperate.

“Shit, Jack. Fffuck fuck fuck…” Robby huffs under his breath. His fingers in Jack’s hair scramble and flex in a frenzy. “Ghh. You’re such a sexy gorgeous- uhn- show off fucking menace…”

Of course Jack’s motives are not purely altruistic. He fucking loves it when Robby treats him like he’s some kind of sex god. He’s not. He’s had plenty of irredeemably bad sex in his life. He’s just an expert in the specialized field of Robby.

“Nhn… you make me feel so good, Jack… Hhh!”

Jack moans around his mouthful and casts his eyes up to find Robby’s. Even as Robby shudders, those dark eyes of his hold Jack to task, keeping him determined as he drives them both toward the edge. They loop around and around like that, watching and enjoying each other’s enjoyment until there’s no lull between the moments of mounting excitement. Finally Robby can’t take any more and his eyes slam shut. He strangles a sob and comes, half in Jack’s fist, half all over himself. His body heaves at the rush, a perfect pink blush peeking through the fur on his chest. The pool of his semen runs off like a landslide. Jack’s satisfaction at the sight prickles all across his scalp and skin like it’s suddenly shrunk a size. His own dick throbs and he can’t help but growl.

“Man, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful…”

Robby gasps and grasps at him with shaky hands as Jack clambers up the bed and drags Robby flat beneath him. As soon as he’s in range, Robby’s kissing him and ripping down his fly. He gets Jack’s dripping cock out, and then pulls them belly to belly. Jack rides on Robby’s breathy body, rough and winded beneath him, deliciously chaotic. The warm, wet squeeze of their flesh is nearly all it takes to tip him over from ready to ruined. As soon as Jack goes ahead and gives himself a few earnest tugs, he doubles their mess in a hot, stuttering pulse.

“Mhnn! Fuck.” Jack struggles to swallow during one last spasm, exhales, and then goes gloriously limp. “Holy shit, Robby…”

“Yeah,” Robby sighs, holding him tight. He nuzzles into the crook of Jack’s neck and dispenses untargeted but tender kisses anywhere his lips happen to be. “Holy shit.”

After he catches his breath, Jack adjusts his position a bit so he can settle in to kiss Robby comfortably. Well, as comfortably as he can with one arm stuck out so he doesn’t smear anything on the bed.

Robby chuckles at him when he finally notices. “You hailing a cab to get outta here, already?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere until I absolutely have to, but I’ve got a sticky hand,” Jack frowns. “I mean, I’m sure we’ll have a diaper disaster on the bed soon enough, but I’m not in a rush to add laundry to our list.” 

“You know what’s pretty nifty about this situation we find ourselves in? Baby wipes,” Robby grins. He stretches out a long arm and bats around at the headboard until an aqua colored box comes tumbling down at their heads.

“Yep. That’s handy,” says Jack, making quick work of his predicament.

Of course he’s had a few good dates here and there these past few years, but Jack really missed this. Being with someone who doesn’t need sex to seem glamorous to be good. It’s good with Robby because it’s lively and it’s caring, but also because they both know how objectively funny it is to spam the buttons on the arcade game that is the human body, just so it will glitch. The only thing sacred about sex to them is laughter. This should be fun. The human drive to procreate has little use for blow jobs and butt play, after all. It’s like how dogs don’t need to wear bandanas, but it’s rad when they do.

Not that Jack is anti romance. He’ll thumb his nose at evolution for its oversights, but pair bonding of any stripe is good for business. He pulls out another few baby wipes and wipes them down, then plies Robby with kisses and compliments all the way back up. Ones he can’t deflect.

“I’m calling it. This is the happiest happy trail there ever was,” Jack tells him. It’s already been Pamper’ed and kissed, but Jack gives it one last lolling swipe with his tongue before moving on.

Robby hums, amused. “Thank you for the feedback. I think?” 

“…And you look so fucking good when you blush all over,” Jack says, a few inches further up his body. Five kisses for a five out of five star review of Robby’s sternum. “So good. Better pack that shit back up or I’m gonna have to start all over again.”

Robby chuckles and combs his fingers into Jack’s hair. “If I could control it, I’d give you the remote.”

“Bet I could find a way to hot wire it...”

“Modified cattle prod, maybe,” Robby suggests. “You’re already handy with those, right?”

Jack stops and flattens his mouth into a line straight enough to level a laboratory scale. “You gonna start up with the cowboy fetish again?”

“After a spectacular roll in the hay like that?” Robby grins a mile wide. “Well pardner, Ah reckon Ah reserve the right.”

With a resigned sigh, Jack decides to forge ahead with his path of kisses. “Love- how long- it takes- to kiss- up- your whole- neck… Mmm... Love how strangleable it is,” he says, fitting his hand just under the hyoid bone.

Robby laughs under his smirking lips. “Yeah, I’m really feeling the love right now.”

Jack’s hand slides around to cradle his neck instead. “Because I love you,” he tells him again.

They kiss, soft and lingering, until Robby’s smile becomes too toothy to go on.

“I love you, too,” he says. His hand at Jack’s head gives a gentle scratch.

“A natural extension of your good taste.”

Robby shrugs. “It’s all in the seasoning.”

“Good taste in movies, books, art, some music, not all of it, some is pretty lame-“

“Hey!” Robby squawks.

“Shh!” Jack chuckles. “…And you have great taste in babies,” he concludes in a whisper.

Robby bites his lip to muffle his laugh, but there’s no stopping it. He crinkles up with a smile. “All is forgiven,” he decides. He folds Jack into his arms as they relax into a quiet snuggle.

If they didn’t have things that needed tending to, Jack’s pretty sure he could close his eyes and fall asleep on top of Robby in an instant. He’s tired enough to make the thousands of new anxieties he just agreed to take on too fuzzy around the edges to grasp. He keeps his eyes open and on the baby’s drawer, and that's as wary a state as he can muster up. He’s too charmed by the sight of the receiving blanket with its classic stripe flapping out over the edge. It makes him feel like they’re in some vintage ‘Road To...’ comedy where they’ve accidentally switched bags with a stranger at a motel.

I didn’t pack this baby. Did you? Oh well! As long as she chips in for gas.

“Did you ever think we’d wind up back here?” Robby asks, after a while.

Jack considers being vague to keep the peace, but if they’re going to do this- and if Robby really wants to know- he’d better be honest. How else can he ask for honesty in return?

“When Doc was dying, I thought about it a lot,” he tells Robby. With his head against Robby’s chest, Jack can hear how predictably ragged his breath gets. “Who would I want to see if I got sick, too? What I’d want to say. If that meant I should do something… But then I figured out you were with Heather.”

“Yeah…” It takes Robby a minute to get a handle on himself and what he wants to say, and Jack gives him the time. Gives his body a squeeze, too. “It was a hard time to be alone.”

“That it was.”

The returned squeeze of comfort Robby gives him is very much appreciated.

But then Robby clears his throat. “…She was pregnant,” he adds. “I only found out a while later.”

“Shit.” That’s messier than what Jack meant to step in, but… that’s some of the honesty he hoped for. “That must have been tough for you to hear, man,” Jack says.

Robby lets out a pained laugh. “It did not feel awesome...” 

So first Jack, then Jake’s mom, and what might have been with Heather? Jesus. It must have seemed like the universe was conspiring against Robby’s desire for a family at every turn. This many years on, it must have looked like not only was it not in the cards, but the dealer had left the room with the deck. Then last night- when Robby got to the point where he might want to follow that cosmic dealer out the door- something about a little baby in the hospital made Robby think, Here’s one last chance. And now, Robby’s not alone anymore. Neither is Jack. They’re not even alone with each other.

“Well, how’s it feel when you hold that baby now?” Jack asks.

This time Robby’s laugh is a warm hum. “It’s awesome,” he says. “In the biblical way. Awe, that something could make me feel like that... That something good could still break through- through the rest. Whatever it is about her is… really good. Really powerful.”

“It’s fucking unreal,” Jack agrees. “She’s like holding a star.”

“Beyond that, even.” Robby blows out a windy exhale. “She’s like…finding out there’s life on other planets.”

“Or that there’s still life on this one,” says Jack.

“Yeah.”

What a revelation.

Robby shifts beneath Jack. “Is that your phone vibrating in your pocket, or am I just feeling a new lease on life?”

Could be someone with a stroller. Jack moves to pat down his pockets.

“Wrong hip. That must be your phone.”

“I don’t have pants on,” Robby reminds him.

“Well it’s somebody’s phone. I didn’t touch the toy box.”

Robby bridges up on his heels so Jack can pull his tangled sweatpants out from underneath them. The force required to free them ends up slingshotting Robby’s phone out of the pocket and clear across the room. Not to worry, though! The mystery of what the phone was alerting them to is solved by the ringing of the doorbell.

“The DoorDash,” Robby smacks his forehead. “Forgot to click ‘contact free’.”

The dasher leans on the bell a second, longer interval, and that does it. If the baby wasn’t already disturbed by the first bell, she definitely hated the second. She cries and cries while they scramble out of bed. Jack already said he’d feed her next, so he zigs left while Robby zags right out the bedroom door, bare assed with sweatpants in hand.

“Aww,” Jack frowns in sympathy as he collects the baby from her bed. “The bell scared the piss outta you! Mean DoorDash. Uber wouldn’t dare do this to my girl…”

There’s a diaper from PTMC and a towel on top of the dresser Jack assumes Robby’s been using as a changing mat until one can be bought. He lays everything out to change her on the bed, and absent any toys, snags one of Robby’s less hazardous tchotchkes for a distraction.

“Heyyy. You wanna hold onto Snoopy pen for me? Sounds way more fun than sticking your hands in a dirty diaper, I know. I’m a genius. Don’t forget it.”

When Jack and the baby make it down to the kitchen for her breakfast and his dinner, Robby is already there, slicing open the bassinet box on the kitchen table. There’s another box on the floor for a pack ‘n play. Some long dormant part of Jack’s brain chimes in wondering if it would be a good box to crawl into with a crayon and while away an afternoon, where no one will notice him.

By the time Robby has the bassinet assembled and the kitchen tidied up, the baby has made a pretty good dent in her bottle. She’s not at the point she can hold it for herself, but if Jack angles his body just right he can hold her, wedge it with the table, and eat some penne. Rude of him to eat A-Rations in front of her B-Rations, but that’s seniority for you, kid.

After a run to the recycling bin, Robby comes back into the kitchen, sunglasses on and ready to rock. He picks up the bassinet, then stops by Jack’s chair on the way through. “All right! I'll put this up in the bedroom and then I’m headed out,” he tells him. “Obviously, take care of her, but do not do any other manual labor until I get back! Just get some sleep.”

“I’ll see if I can remember how…” Jack smirks and meets his kiss goodbye as naturally as though they did it every day this week. Old habits resurrect just as hard as they die, apparently.

Robby shakes his head as he walks off. “The baby is easier to put down, I swear…”

“Call me if you need me to talk you down from buying an entire wall of baby clothes,” Jack calls after him. “I hear once you’ve had a hit of that shit with unicorns on it, you’re addicted.”

“I can quit anytime I want!” Robby shouts back.

After her bottle, Jack walks the baby around the house a bit. He shows her some of his favorite things on Robby’s walls, and she burps in agreement that yes, this is a pretty cool place to hang. She could see herself growing up here.

With a child’s eye in mind, it makes Jack a little sweaty to look around at the up-to-date technology and the furniture free of cigarette burns and grubby, beat in stains. They could afford to give her every comfort and luxury that he ever dreamed of as a broke ass kid. The rocking horse Santa never brought, a rug with roads you can play cars on, and an actual ewok figurine, not some knock off Care Bear from TG&Y wearing a cut up sock… Even a functioning dishwasher to do his chores with would have thrilled Jack as a child. Oh boy. He’ll have to remind himself constantly that there’s no need to perform poverty just to give her character. Being the daughter of two basketcases with PTSD will take care of that.

(RR)

In that case, yeehaw.

Shhh 

That wasn’t me, that 
was the horses.

Today 10:17 AM

I just thought the D word again.

Donut.

❌

Vanna, could you put
RSTLNE on the board?

D____TER

Daughter?

Yeah that one is kind of
fucking me up too.

I’m just supposed to close
my eyes and fall asleep now like
everything’s normal? WTF

Before he plugs his phone in, Jack snaps Robby a picture of the baby all settled in for her next nap with his thumb up in the corner. He puts her essential items on the little shelf under her bassinet, finally takes off his prosthetic, and then he sleeps, quite normally, after all.

Around one o’clock, the baby wakes him up. She’s a real peach of a lunch date, so Jack doesn’t take it too hard. She lets him put whatever he wants on the TV while they feed on the couch, and doesn’t point out that he’s not really watching. He’s got some To Do list to catch up on while he’s conscious.

(KT)

Today 10:56 AM

Hi there! This is Kim Tate. I saw
your flyer in the break room, and
I’d love to get our old stroller into 
good hands. It’s a grey Graco
Merge if you want to google the 
model. We’ve cleaned it of course,
but it’s been through so much, I’d
feel silly asking for money. Please
consider it a present to your Pitt
baby from Auntie Kim!

Oh, sorry Abbot! I meant to
send this to someone else.

Hang on. Do you have a baby?

It’s one thing to jerk around the residents. Jack does not fuck with the nurses. Especially not ones he and Robby have worked with for this long. Better check in with command on the protocol here.

(RR)

Sleep when the baby sleeps,
spiral when the baby spirals 😌

The Swedes are kicking our ass
at laundry baskets and I didn’t
even know there was a war on.

At Kohl’s now. Keep telling myself
there are already so many lamps
in storage in the basement, but
the ones here keep looking at me
longingly.

Today 1:13 PM

Veto on the lamps. I don’t need
that kinda competition. I’ve already
gotta split you with the rug rat.

Kim has a stroller she wants to offload.
How should I refer to you? Should we
play it close to the vest until after Tues?

No immediate answer from Robby, but Jack scopes out the link he emailed earlier. Theoretically, as the doctors the baby was abandoned to they will be shuffled to the top of the pile with all this paperwork no matter what it says, but still. There’s some real hardball in the potential parent questionnaire. It’s the stuff panic attacks are made of- or used to be. If Jack had made it as far as looking at fostering paperwork eleven years ago, he still would have made the same choice he made to bow out. Now, he’s a bit prickly with some of the topics, sure, but he’s not all defense and rejection. He’s able to see the wisdom of the breadth and depth of it. The baby deserves that they think through these questions, and discuss them together. He and Robby will have to get really real on some shit, despite their hang ups. It’s definitely a good thing they have a few days to fill these out. 

“One, two, three… Seven pages on my childhood and the people in it,” Jack tells the baby. He keeps on counting and summarizing. “Three pages on Sofie. Four on Robby. Three on…my education and what I want for yours. Rhodes Scholar, amirite? Uh. Two pages on employment, an essay on my summer vacation at Landstuhl, one on discipline, and drum roll please! Nine pages on why I want to be a parent. Your parent,” Jack says, giving the baby’s little foot a tickle.

The baby sucks her bottle serenely, feeling no pressure to overstate her case as a prospective daughter. It’s very classy of her.

Jack puts down his phone and adjusts his hold of her so they can face each other.

“Short answer? I can already tell you’re gonna be a fuckin’ amazing person, and I wanna know everything about you. Not in like, an obnoxious helicopter way…Maybe a little bit. But more like… I wanna find out if you can whistle, and see if you’re any good with power tools. What’s your favorite thing to do in the backyard? What kind of sandwich do you want, but only if it’s the way I make it?” Jack wonders. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, hmm?”

Jack’s phone finally rings when they’re back upstairs and he’s helping the baby work out some gas. He puts Robby on speaker and tosses his phone aside on the bed so they can keep doing bicycle kicks.

“You’ve reached Jack’s Gym, where it’s leg day every other day. How may we direct your call?” 

Robby huffs a distressed breath into the other end. “Jack, I made a mistake,” he says.

Jack’s blood runs cold. The baby whines and he shakes his head with her. Yeah, this is not a good follow up to their earlier etiquette lesson.

“That’s kind of a rough way to start a phone call to a guy you just made a huge life changing decision with, Robby. Next sentence, please.”

“Sorry. It's just- I looked at a picture I took of you guys at breakfast, and it makes me want to be there, but I still have two more fuckin’ stores to hit before I can come back,” Robby groans.

“Aww.”

All right. Stand down, fellas. False alarm.

“By the way,” says Robby. “I had no idea how personally people take it if you’re shopping for your new baby, but you don’t have the baby with you, an exact age, hardly any pictures, or a name.”

“I can see how that would look a little sketchy to civilians,” Jack allows. “But we could knock that last one out, right now. How about… Electra.” 

He jiggles the baby’s feet with every syllable.

“Nooo.”

Well, duh. Not really.

“Got anything better?” Jack asks, imperiously.

“I haven’t let my brain go there,” Robby admits.

“I noticed.”

“I don’t want to count my chickens, y’know?”

“I know, man, but we can’t keep calling her ‘the baby’ forever.”

Robby makes a feeble noise on the other end. “If forever is even…a thing.”

Trying to grapple with the permanence of this is head and heartache inducing. Jack gets it.

“When you were talking to people last night, did you get any sense of how long it takes for a situation like hers to be settled?” he asks.

“Assuming no blood relative shows up, the earliest there’d be an involuntary termination of parental rights is six months. Could get complicated. Take another year past that.”

“Okay. So, January maybe.” Jack makes the baby’s socked feet dance. “We’ll get you a snazzy little dress and snow boots for court,” he tells her.

“…How’s she doing?”

“She’s gassing me out, at the moment.”

Robby laughs. “Well, tell her to crack a window.”

It does seem like she’s done what needed doing, so Jack stops cycling her legs and pumps her little arms instead.

“You heard him, kid. Time to get some upper body strength before I keel over.”

Robby sighs. “She’s stinking cute.”

“You joke, but my eyes are watering.”

“Me too. I, uhm. With everything that’s happened. I didn’t know it could be like this... the three of us,” he sniffs. It takes him a minute to gather himself. “Anyways. I saw your text. You don’t have to bend over backwards with Kim, if she asks. She’s discreet. But in general, yeah I dunno…” Robby clears his teary throat. 

“I think we’ll both have our heads screwed on better after Tuesday when we talk to the caseworker.”

“Yeah, yeah... And before we tell people, we really should figure out a name, and how we’re hyphenating, and… all that.”

The thought of their names, linked up and scrawled in marker on the top of some macaroni art makes Jack’s heart squeeze in a way that would break an EKG.

“Now, would we rather run the risk of giving her initials that spell ‘BRA’ or ‘WAR’?” he asks.

“…Belinda Robinavitch-Abbot… Eugh.”

“Yeah, no way,” Jack snorts. “Okay, so that’s two names eliminated. Only nine hundred ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight more to go.”

“That ought to keep my brain busy...”

His battered up, beautiful brain.

“You good, babe?” Jack checks. “There can always be a day two for shopping.”

Robby hums. “Never better. I should let you go, and get this over with.” The sound of him taking a deep breath seems steady enough for Jack’s liking. “Would you give her a hug for me?” he asks.

“Of course...” Jack picks the baby up and presses his cheek to her little head. “It’s time for part two of Jack and Junior’s nap, huh?” He smirks at the phone on the bed, in place of Robby. “Say ‘night night’ to Daddy...”

“AhhhhthatsdirtypoolJackImnotevenintheroom,” Robby growls out. Jack can just imagine the way his thrilled but agonized face is buried in his hands. “Just you wait. I’ll get you back,” he warns. “Now I’m hanging up before you can tempt me into rushing home, you bastard.”

“Love you too.”

Once Jacks puts the baby down and settles himself into bed again, he tries to think up some name options. Serious ones. He didn’t have much overlap with either grandmother, or a real connection with any aunts. It would be way too weird for Jack to name the baby after Mom or Sofie, but it could be nice to honor someone or something important. Robby might like ‘Charity’ after his first hospital, but that’s got a kind of weird pilgrim flavor, doesn’t it? Maybe instead of family, something from a movie they both loved, or a song. There was a great playlist they used to rock out to while cooking and housekeeping, back in the day. The kind of music that makes boring things fun, and fun things like snapping towels and zapping each other with the sink hose fucking electric… Might be something there.

When the baby wakes Jack up again, Robby is already at the side of the bed. He’s still got his sunglasses perched on top of his head, and an load of brown Kohl’s bags at his feet. He must have come straight up to see them like he threatened. Sap.

“Hello, my little one,” Robby coos as he picks her up. He strokes a finger at the fuzzy back of her head and rocks her until she quiets again. “Have you had a nice day with your Pa? I missed you both.”

Jack was trying to be surreptitiously sleepy as he watched, but he can’t help the happy puff that he lets out. He stretches and rolls onto his back, his cover blown. “Pa?”

“It was good enough for the Ingalls,” says Robby. “Little House on the Prairie got nine seasons. Hard to argue with that sort of staying power in this day and age.”

This time around, Jack is a much more experienced examiner of Robby’s glee. “I feel like we’re getting to the root of your cowboy thing here,” he says. “But Pa Ingalls was a ‘frontiersman’, y’know.”

Robby scrunches his nose. “I know, but it just doesn't trip off the tongue the same way.”

“…All right. You win. Me and the half-pint did great here.” Jack smiles up at the two of them. “How did you make out?”

Robby comes and stands close enough that Jack can brush his fingers up and down his thigh. “The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected,” he says, in the dreamy way of a quotation.

“And what was that?”

“I thought I’d have a hard time bringing myself to buy much. That I’d resist planning too far ahead, but…”

“You bought her a prom dress?” Jack guesses with a raised eyebrow.

“There may be one dress with a sparkly element to it,” Robby admits. “Books are where I really ran into trouble, though.”

“Yeah, that tracks for you.”

“When I made my list I figured- get three or four high contrast baby books, a book of nursery rhymes, a few primers…” Robby tucks his chin to address the baby. “Did you know how many Dr. Seuss books there were? I didn’t. There’s a million, and we own them all now. And Amelia Bedelia. And Roald Dahl. Judy Blume. Tamora Pierce. And I’ll stop there before I scare off your Pa. ‘Cause we might have to downgrade to a twin sized bed to fit everything in this house.”

Jack rolls and stuffs his face into the pillows again. “I’m gonna need to close my eyes a few more minutes to cope with the idea of living with two Robbys.”

“No problem. I got her.”

“Wait.” Jack peeks back out before they leave. “Do you still have a shower chair?”

“Of course.” Robby gives the baby in his arms a little boost. “And I was just thinking you could stand to be hosed off, too,” he tells her.

Finally, they’ve hit a patch of infant care that neither has had to do in emergency medicine, their decades ago clerkship in pediatrics, or in having younger siblings. While Robby’s haul from Riverstone Books included a few parenting books that touch on the topic, he’s not too proud to pull up a Youtube or two to be sure there’s not some nuance they’re missing. Mostly it seems the motto for bath time is the same as the Coast Guard. Semper Paratus. Get everything you need out and ready before you need it.

Robby is set up on the kitchen table by the time Jack comes downstairs from his own bath time. While he was out, he bought one of those little tubs that can be used anywhere you’re willing to haul some water, a rubber frog with a thermometer in it, and a little hooded towel with bunny ears. The baby wriggles and coos to herself in the car seat while Robby digs through one of his shopping bags trying to find a fresh onesie to change her into when she’s clean.

“I heard back from Kim,” Jack points at the car seat. “Her husband’s picking her up tonight so he’ll bring the stroller, and I’ll make the switch. Bring it home in the morning.”

“Wow. That was painless,” says Robby.

“Yeah.” Jack comes up behind him, arm slung around the small of his back, and knocks Robby a kiss on the cheek. “I think we’re due for a few lay ups,” he hums in his ear.

“Ptu, ptu, ptu!”

Jack frowns. “That’s a terrible basketball sound effect.”

Robby sighs as he rips the stickers and tags off a pack of summery colored onesies. “It was my Bubbe’s thing. Spit three times to ward off the evil eye…”

“Did it make her any good at a half-court throw?”

“Not as good as she was on the half-pipe,” Robby jokes back.

There’s a very charming old photograph of Robby’s grandmother in the stairwell that Jack has passed a thousand times. She’s young and long legged like Robby, sitting in the grass in a wool skirt and jacket, eyeing a stack of what else- books.

“All right!” Robby stands back from the table and surveys the set up with his hands spread. “I think we have everything. The water’s not too hot…” He turns and retrieves the baby from her seat. “Splish splash, guess who’s taking a bath?”

“Hey. What was her name, your Bubbe?”

“Oh.” Robby seems to hitch on to Jack’s train of thought immediately. He squints at the baby in consideration. “Yelena? I thought about it too, but. Hmph.” he shrugs. “And what you said about initials… I think I prefer Abbot-Rabinovitch, so-”

“Yaaarrr,” Jack grimaces. “That does seem like a magnet for pirate jokes.”

“What were your grandmothers’ names?”

“Both were Jane, believe it or not.”

“Hmm.” Robby lays the baby on a folded towel for undressing and passes off her diaper to Jack for disposal. “No offence to you and yours, but I think we’re done with being Plain Jane Doe. Aren’t we?”

Jack stands at parade rest by Robby’s elbow, at the ready. Once she’s naked, Robby sets the baby in the scooped seat of the bath, like a pink plop of ice cream. She puts on a brave face for exactly two seconds, but then she notices she is wet. The betrayal…

“Shh, it’s all right,” says Robby, wasting no time to get going, giving her submerged half a scrub with a washcloth. “I think you’re just surprised, aren’t you?”

“Could be she prefers to cannonball in,” Jack suggests.

“Is that it, do you wanna cannonball?” Robby sloshes around the water, getting her little legs clean. “Or maybe you’re more of a pike girl… Ooor a jack-knife?”

“Which I invented,” Jack nods.

“It’s true,” Robby chuckles. “I have to pay Pa a nickel every time I get in a pool.”

At last, the baby seems to be at peace with her watery fate. Jack smiles. “Play your cards right, I’ll sign over my royalties to you when you grow up.”

As he reaches for some more Johnson’s, Robby groans. “Ooph,” he says, stopping and straightening up as much as he can while keeping one hand on the baby for safety. “Next time, let’s try this on the counter. A bit higher up.”

“Your back?”

“Yeah.”

“Too tall. Too statuesque,” Jack scolds him. He hip checks Robby aside and tags in with the baby. “Don’t eat your vegetables, kid. Stay small and cute forever.”

Robby snorts as he stretches his back out. “Eat your vegetables, just keep up with your core strength.”

Jack gets the baby’s one arm soaped up and does some detailing between her fingers, then on to the other. The way she clenches her freshly cleaned fists looks almost intentional.

“Hey, Robby. Guess who has two thumbs and should be holding her head up in time for some late summer pool days?” Jack wiggles around the baby’s arms in emphasis. “This guy.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, maybe,” Robby realizes. “Not a public pool until her immune system’s built up, but we know people…”

“Benji runs a pretty tight ship. I’m sure Dana would beg us to come visit.”

“Mmm, that’d be great.” Robby crowds up behind Jack and hooks his chin on his shoulder and his fingers in his belt loops. “I would love to teach you to swim,” he coos to the baby. “But Auntie Dana’s gonna want a name to put on that pool pass, isn’t she?”

“What was the name of the little girl in The Fall?”

“Oh, I don’t remember off the top of my head,” says Robby. He gives Jack’s waist a squeeze. “Is that on your list?”

“I don’t have a list per se, just thoughts. You?”

Robby nods on Jack’s shoulder. “One I was thinking was May, which is probably her birth month.”

“Hmm. May,” Jack repeats, considering the soapy baby.

“Then Maura. Or Moira? I don’t know that there’s a perceived difference besides spelling to most people.”

“I like Maura better than May, I think,” says Jack. “More-uh your hugs, more-uh your smiles…There’s room to riff,” he points out.

The baby makes an agreeable noise.

“I concur. That is a very important factor in this household,” Robby tells her. “Uhm. What else was I thinking? Oh. Margo?”

Jack narrows his eyes and glares over his shoulder. “Is this an expression of your M name supremacist sympathies?” he asks. “The Michaels and Matthews of the world have had it too good for too long.”

Robby turns his face to chuckle into Jack’s neck. “Sorry, I forgot to say. I was thinking about M’s for Montgomery.” He sighs and slips away from Jack, then. “It’s a Jewish thing, to name children after dead loved ones, but it can get a little limiting, so most people just use the initial.”

“Okay, well that boosts the ratings on all of these, then,” says Jack. “I’d wanna honor Doc, same as you. You got more? Wait what was the one you just said? Margo. Margo’s nice. Maura…”

“Mischa,” Robby supplies next. “Miriam.”

Carefully, Jack tips the baby forward so he can scrub down her back. “Hmm. I’m still hanging on to Maura so far, but I do like Mischa... Miriam’s for old ladies.”

“Yeah,” Robby sighs. “Bubbe had about twelve Miriam’s on her speed dial… But it was too classic not to list.” He’s checking his phone now. “Mariah?” he reads off next.

“As in Carey?” Jack’s eyebrows go up.

“As in ‘They Call the Wind Mariah’...” Robby scratches his head sheepishly. “It’s a beautiful song.”

Jack blinks at Robby as he gets a little more soap on the washcloth to shampoo the baby’s hair. “Sure, but everyone’s gonna think her name is Maria, not Mariah. It’s spelled the same on paper. Do you like Maria?”

“Eh. Too common,” Robby shakes his head. “Hold on. I’m googling this. Is there… an H…“

“You don’t have to google it, Robby, I’m telling you,” Jack laughs, despite himself. “I have seen Paint Your Wagon more times than she’s had meals, there’s no H.”

Robby lowers his phone with a grin. “Jack. Are you pulling cowboy rank on me?”

“Calm down. It was my dad’s favorite movie.”

“…I’ve never heard you say anything neutral about the man before.”

Jack catches Robby’s eyes with his own for a moment. “That’s one of those things doing therapy is for,” he hints. “Making peace with your past.”

That said, Jack focuses on keeping suds from flowing into the baby’s eyes. He visors his hand at her brow and cups some water over her head as neatly as he can.

“Huh. Well.” Robby is a bit stunned. “That’s probably a reason not to go with Mariah, then. Unless you feel very strongly about ‘Always Be My Baby’?”

“This baby that I feel very strongly about is as clean as she's going to get,” Jack says, pouring one last cup to rinse her off. “Gee Tee Eff outta our way…”

“Eff-ing off,” Robby chuckles and steps back, so he’s not blocking the bunny eared towel. 

Jack picks the baby up and lays her down in the middle where she can be wrapped up and pat dry. “There you go… I think you were beginning to like bath time, huh? Good news for Daddy and his swimming plans. But let’s keep you warm. Get you all dried off, then all dressed up…”

Before she has a chance to pee on him, Jack whips on a fresh diaper, then the cheery yellow onesie Robby hands him.

“What do you think of Marianne?” Robby asks.

“Actually… I already thought of it,” Jack says. Once he snaps her into her onesie, he lifts the baby into his arms again and rocks her to a few bars of ‘More Than a Feeling’, “See my Marianne walkin’ away-ayyyy. Bwa bwa bwa baaa! Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh… Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh…”

“Oh!”

“Used to play that song on a mix, all the time.”

Robby is all crinkling eyes and smile. “We did, didn’t we?” he laughs. “But I was thinking of it like in ‘So Long Marianne’. You know. So long Marianne, it's time that we began to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again?”

Suddenly Jack feels humid, and not just because he got his shirt wet pulling the baby out of the bath. A little hard rock for him, a little Cohen for Robby, an M for Doc…

“I dunno, man,” Jack looks at Robby seriously. “Unless you have some real killer Shakespeare shit up your sleeve, this could be it.”

Robby sucks a breath through his teeth. “The best Shakespearean M name I can think of is… Mustardseed in Midsummer.”

“Fuck! Okay. Forget the rest of the list.” Jack cracks up laughing so hard the baby in his arms squawks at him. “I’m sorry,” he tells her. “But obviously we’re gonna have to name you Mustardseed! What the fuck, man...”

Robby wipes a hysterical tear from his eye. “She’s a woodland fairy, what do you want from me?”

“This is my daughter. Mustardseed,” Jack snorts out. “Before you ask, she prefers ketchup."

Still laughing, Robby comes over to wrap his arms around them both. He nuzzles a kiss to each and then sighs in content. “She can prefer ketchup as Marianne, I think.”

“Yeah.” Jack can feel his cheeks burning with a happy blush. “I hope so, otherwise the schoolyard is gonna suck.” He gives the baby’s head a peck. “Marianne…”

“Marianne Abbot-Robinavitch,” Robby pronounces, at length. “…I would let her file my taxes. She sounds like she’s really got it together.”

“I bet she’s published.”

“Did great on her SATs!”

“She’s a pleasure to have in class,” Jack decides.

Robby groans and leans his weight on him. “Do I even want to know how far ahead we have to get her signed up for pre-school? No, right?”

“Don’t look it up tonight, man. Just add it to the list.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Robby sighs. “At least I get to cross some stuff off.”

For quite some time, they stand around the middle of the kitchen in a swaying embrace, as he neglects to do that. Jack catches himself thinking that this silent slow dance with their Marianne, too amazing to be confined to just one song, will be a nice bit of variety to add to all the more raucous memories set here. Today has been just the first of many in which they will redefine what it is to be at home together. They’ll start with baths in the kitchen, baby things in the study, and work their way up to homework with friends on the living room rug, and prom dresses coming down the stairs. All those TV dads they grew up on and wished would replace their own can take a fucking number. This’ll be the best show around with an all timer of a soundtrack.

Though he hates to break up a party, Jack can feel his stomach starting to rumble for something to eat, and he knows he won’t be the only one.

“We should think about dinner,” he hums to Robby. “What can I make you?”

“Ooph.” Robby pats Jack’s shoulder and braces himself as he pulls away. “I overdid it at Ikea. Between that and the heat, hard pass on a hot meal right now.”

“You two wanna kick it on the couch and pass a bottle back and forth, maybe?”

“That’ll do it,” Robby smiles. “I’ll make a sandwich later.”

“All right. I’m gonna clean up in here and make a bunch of eggs if you change your mind.”

Robby takes the baby from Jack with chirpy thanks and a kiss. “C’mon Marianne, it's time that we began soooo much paperwork.”

After he eats, Jack goes to get the Ikea boxes out of Robby’s car. The dresser he should probably build upstairs another day, but the changing table is too handy to delay, and the crib won’t be too bad to wrangle. He brings those and the rest of the shopping into the living room, where Robby has set up camp with the baby and his laptop.

“Uhh, good luck minimizing the footprint of all this,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes through the slightly magnified effect of his glasses. “You should maybe just. Jam the bags of books behind the couch for now. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about them until there’s some shelving freed up in the study…”

“Well now you’re being weird about it, so I gotta check for subversive literature. Can’t be too careful these days.” 

“Would you know it if you saw it?”

Jack picks up one of the Riverstone bags for a peek. “I’ll smell the moral decay, obviously… Hmph. This one checks out. For now.”

Seems likely that Robby gave himself some sticker shock. Judging by weight, the trip to the bookstore was probably more expensive than the furniture. That’s not a problem. When Jack has a chance to print out his financials, Robby can get a load of the kind of long term momentum a free ride to med school has. Never mind what happens to his VA disability when he puts a kid on it. And if they get married? There’s your monthly book allowance, babe. Go wild.

Jack squares away the books for now, and then figures out how to sort the rest of the baby paraphernalia into the big canvas totes Robby purchased to be catch-alls for the inevitable chaos of child rearing. Two for clothes until the dresser is built, one for blankets and playmats, one for toys. The decor will just have to live in paper bag limbo for a bit. Jack can cope. The strapped baby carrier can go in the coat closet, and the hygienic items can join the bottle of Johnson’s in the bath tub, for now. When everything is in its right place, Jack parks the totes all in a row in front of the entertainment cabinet with the friendly pink triceratops plushie perched so it’s peeking out toward the nearby pack ‘n play. It looks like he’s making good time, when Jack glances at his watch.

“Should be able to put these together before I have to head to work,” he lets Robby know. 

Now that Marianne has been fed and burped there’s gotta be a diaper change incoming any minute now. He’ll do the changing table first. One way or another, they can break it in tonight.

Robby looks up from his laptop. “I think we have time for that brag worthy movie night of yours, as long as you’re not hoping to squeeze in The Godfather.”

“Nah, not that.” Jack casts his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “I’m thinking something fun for all ages, so she can grow on it. We could watch it every July 5th. Have a tradition.”

There’s a teary shine in Robby’s eyes. “I like that.”

“But it should be a little bit pretentious,” Jack says, pinching his fingers.

“Maybe a Pixar?”

“Too mainstream,” Jack shakes his head. “This movie should have its naysayers.”

“So you do want to raise a snob,” Robby says, rubbing his beard.

“That's inevitable if you’re involved.”

Oh, so there’s a compliment Robby can smile at. Sure.

He looks down at the baby tucked in his one arm, while he balances his laptop on his knees with the other. “Maybe you’ll be more of an art school asshole instead of another STEM asshole,” he says, sweetly.

“With two fucked up doctor dads... She’s gonna need some kind of outlet,” Jack admits. “What’s the prescription?”

After a moment of contemplation, Robby looks back up at Jack. “Puppets. Stop motion or live action- doesn’t matter. All roads lead to foam.”

Jack snaps his fingers and points. “Labyrinth.”

Robby grins. “Should be on Disney. I’ll fire it up.”

Perfect.

“All right.” Jack digs into his pocket for his knife and gives it a spin around his finger before he hits the switch. “You two need anything before I lock in on the changing table?”

“Could we have one of those toys, maybe?” Robby asks.

There was a neat one Jack saw. A plush block with a few silky tags and a rattle inside. He finds it and tosses it to the couch. With that, Jack sits down to play with his own blocks. 

“Flatpack when the baby flatpacks…”

Once Robby has the movie set to go, he gives the rattle a shake for Marianne. “What do you think of that? Worth Daddy tearing up a little bit in the middle of Kohl’s?”

Jack looks up, in the midst of arranging his pieces. “Is that when you called?”

Robby chews his lip. He lets Marianne take over the rattle, then pulls his computer a little further up his lap so he can get some use out of his left hand, despite her. “Yeah,” he says. “Couldn’t help wondering if she had many toys before. If them not having enough is why, or… something else.”

“It’s a possibility,” Jack says. He watches Robby as he throws himself back into his typing.

“This is called multiscreening,” he tells Marianne. “And it's bad for your development, so you’re not allowed to do it until you’re thirty-five.”

“What’re you working on right now?”

“I started the first few pages of my profile,” Robby sighs. “Think I’ll switch back and forth from it. It is loooong.”

And it’s full of things like, Of all the people you listed in Questions 1 and 2, where are these people now and how often are you in contact with them? Jack knows where Tiffany and Stephanie are, and even Dad despite them being estranged. He’s not so sure what Robby has going on in that box, though. He knows he needs to know, and that it will be hard to unspool it, and unlikely to roll back up into the same tight coil.

“Well, if you need a pick-me-up, scroll on down to ‘What would you most like to change about your spouse or partner?’ Don’t be shy. Let me have it with both barrels.”

Robby chuckles. “I shall tell all the truth, but tell it slant…”

His mood lightens up after that, but Jack’s pretty sure it’s because he switches over to a different form. Though they do get a lot of comedic mileage out of the observation that dogs really had no rights in the Eighties, huh?

Jack manages to get the changing table put together in time to stop and enjoy ‘Magic Dance’ on the couch. Robby is delighted to have them both in head-kissing reach, and Marianne is gracious enough not to befoul herself until after David Bowie has done his thing. 

“This is a very promising indicator for her level of taste, I must say…”

“Hear that?” Jack takes Marianne over to the changing table. “Daddy says we can keep you!”

“Shhh!” Robby whips the toy block at Jack’s head for teasing her.

“Keep you up late to watch lots of Eighties movies, I mean…”

“Still bad! She’s gotta go down soon.”

After her change, Marianne is pretty chill. They agree she should give it a whirl trying to fall asleep in the pack ‘n play while they keep working. Jack gets the crib put together pretty quick, and then stretches out on the floor beside her as she babbles herself into unconsciousness. He nearly drifts off himself, but then his phone buzzes. There are only five numbers he lets break through his Do Not Disturb hours, and the most frequent exception is in this very room, clacking away at his laptop.

(TA)

Nick wants to go backpacking
after graduation. He’s asking if
you’ve ever been to Italy.

No, right?

In Europe I've only been to the
UK, Germany, Poland, Czech
Republic and Slovakia.

I don’t think he was old
enough to understand
where Sofie was from. 

That’s okay. It was a
long time ago, and he
has managed to pass
social studies since.

Somehow!

Today 6:14 PM

That was kind of a weird
email. Everything cool?

Jack excuses himself to the kitchen to give his sister a call back. Better to just hold down the surrounding flesh and rip the band aid off, right?

“Hey, woah,” Tiffany answers the phone. “I figured you’d be free before your shift, but you’re usually not this quick. Jesus.”

“I’ve never liked being fashionably late,” Jack says, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“Nah. You’re more the duck out early type… The classic Irish Goodbye,” she says.

Jack snorts. “Harsh. But fair.”

“I dunno. Maybe that’s good instincts,” Tiffany sighs. “Certainly not genetic. God knows I should have bounced on Jerry sooner…”

“Mmm.”

“Sooo. What’s up? Clearly something.”

Jack clears his throat. “You know my friend at the hospital, the one I was dating for a while? Robby.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tiffany laughs. “Kinda hard to forget when your tough as nails G.I. Joe brother falls in love with a dude out of nowhere, right after his wife dies.”

“It wasn’t right after.” Jack pushes off of the counter and paces across the kitchen.

“My life was on fire at the time, all right? Everything felt pretty simultaneous. So sue me. Like Jerry did!”

Jack shakes his head. “You’re on fire tonight, Tiff.”

“Sorry, Jack,” she says, sounding tired. “I had a hang over from the fireworks last night. Tried to hair-of-the-dog my way through the afternoon. Not my brightest idea...”

“All right. You can let your hair down once and awhile.”

“I barely drink, you know that.”

“I’m not Mom. You don’t have to make a case to me. You’re an adult.”

“You started it.” Tiffany lets out a huff. “Sooo? Anyway. Are you… back on with this Robby of yours?”

“Yeah.” Jack stops his pacing when he makes it back to the corner he started in. He touches the edge of Marianne’s tub, sitting on the counter.

“That’s nice.”

“It is,” Jack smiles. “I’m… in a way better place to enjoy it this time. All of it.”

“…Should I be buying some new dress shoes?”

“Good question.” Jack rubs his forehead. “Kinda doing things out of order, over here.”

“You’re pregnant,” Tiffany spits out.

“Close, but no cigar. Or yeah, cigars are in order. Fuck. That sounds good. Haven’t had a cigar since my bachelor party…”

Tiffany laughs so hard it sounds like maybe she dropped her phone. There’s a clatter and then her volume is normal again. “Oh my god, I was joking.”

“Yeah, well. There was a baby abandoned at the hospital, and we decided… we want her.”

“Oh my god! What?! I didn’t realize that still happened.”

Jack shrugs. His ability to be surprised by tragedy is long since lost, somewhere in the Gulf. “Everything still happens, Tiff.”

“Well. Cool,” says Tiffany. “Lucky baby.”

That surprises Jack, given the source.

“…You think?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I wanted to ask if you’d write a letter of reference for our adoption application.” Jack stops and swallows a tinge of bile in his throat. “But I should apologize, first. I judged you for having kids. I love them. I’m so glad they’re here and you love them. But back then… I felt like it was a fucked up thing to do, after how bad we had it. I know I let on, too. That was about me, not you. I’m sorry.”

Tiffany huffs again, maybe in disbelief, maybe disinterest. They’ve patched things up over the years, but she’s harder for Jack to read now. All those patches have swallowed up the page they started out on together.

“Hey,” she finally says. “You tried to rewrite history your way, I tried mine.”

“…I guess so.”

“Earl messed us all up. About drinking, and money, and… who gets to live and who died.”

“Yeah…”

One apology is enough. Jack’s not going to apologize again for wishing he could be on the phone with Mom, right now. Tiff knows. She had to do it all without her, too.

“I’ll write your letter,” Tiffany says, easy breezy. “I’ll sing the praises of how good Uncle Jack was to my kids. All that. Just email me whatever, and I’ll do it. God knows my kids are never getting cousins out of Steph!”

Jack didn’t expect her to say no, but he didn’t expect to be so touched by her understanding. She’s not the same go along to get along gal she used to be. At the same time that she’s sharpened, she still has her soft side. Jack had to take a longer route to strike that balance, and it’s hard not to feel a little weird about it.

“Is it fucked up I kind of miss when you used to use me as an ATM?”

“Hey, you can still buy me some Lululemon any time you want,” Tiffany laughs.

“Maybe for old time’s sake,” Jack says.

Tiffany says something to someone passing by. Probably Nick. Laura is usually off doing some sport or other. When Tiff turns her attention back to the phone, she giggles. “So when are you getting this baby? Do you have pictures?”

“I’ll send some. She’s already home with us. Marianne. We’re the emergency placement,” Jack explains, “but… we’re gonna make it stick.”

“Aww. Do you need a babysitter?”

“After the time you pushed Steph out of a tree?”

Tiffany scoffs. “What’s a little head injury between sisters? She bled all over my Scared Guy tee. We’re even.”

“That was the first time I ever saw a skull,” Jack remembers, fondly.

“You’ll go far as a parent with that attitude, unfortunately,” Tiffany hums.

“Oh yeah?”

“Hah. Oh, it totally sucks, Jack. Enjoy it.”

Jack feels his face rumple into a dumb smile. “Thanks Tiff.”

“Listen, I gotta get dinner going before Laura gets home, or else her and Nick are gonna eat me alive.”

“It was nice knowing you, I guess.”

“Send me pictures of that baby! I won’t tell Earl. Steph might though, so watch what you say to her.”

“I’ll email you soon,” Jack promises.

After they hang up, he sags over the counter. He folds his arms and lays his head in them to breathe, in and out. He’ll call Stephanie another time. It’s harder with her, and he’s done plenty for today. At this moment, his only priority is the people in this house. He should go indulge in that. He will, in a minute.

Robby beats him to it. He enters the kitchen behind him with a whistle. “I was hoping that if the night ended with one of us bent over the counter, there might be a little more time for it…” he says, dirtily.

Jack lifts his head and shoves himself back up. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he sighs.

There’s just a hint of a frown on Robby’s face as he pauses in the middle of the kitchen, open laptop in arm. “In the end, you never have,” he says. “…You okay, babe?”

“Now that you’re here,” Jack supplies, easily.

“Mm.” Robby squints one eye at him. “Can’t really watch you leave the room to call your sister, find you with your head in the toaster oven, and then take that for an answer.”

Jack turns to face him properly and pay Robby the respect that is due for his care. He has to, now. That’s the whole point of them getting a do over. 

“Tiffany is really excited about the baby, and happy to write a letter on my behalf,” Jack says, genuinely pleased about that. And it is the main take away... “But she was drunk.”

“Ah.”

“She’s allowed to drink,” he states for the record. “She’s not… like him. Or the ex I helped her pay to divorce.”

“But it’s a sore subject with you two.”

“Yeah.”

Robby waits, leaving a space for Jack to say more if he wants, and that’s enough, really. Knowing he’ll listen if Jack needs to talk about it, the same way Robby is relieved by Jack knowing where he’s at. All it takes to signal what he wants is a genuine smile at the fact that they found their way back to each other, to this closeness. Robby comes and wraps his one arm around Jack and kisses his forehead.

“I have our family biography written, I think.” Robby hoists the laptop in his other arm. “You might like that?”

Jack nods. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait to hear the spin by ‘Tell it Slant’ PR firm.”

“I’m hoping they’ll make me a partner any day now…” 

“They can’t have you. You’re mine.”

Robby grins and turns on his heel before setting his laptop on the counter for better scrolling and editing capability. He braces himself against the edge, while Jack sits back beside him. Robby finds his place in the document and then takes a preparatory breath. “Michael and Jack-”

“Who?” Jack looks on, confused. “I thought this was about our family.”

“Sonofabitch,” Robby snickers. “This is going to take for-fucking-ever if you do that.”

Jack raises his hands. “Sorry.”

“Michael and Jack-”

“I’m sure this Michael guy is a fine, upstanding man. I look forward to finding out how he folds into the story.”

Robby shoves his glasses up his forehead for a moment so he can wipe a hand down his face and stop himself laughing. He knows if he does, it will only encourage Jack. “Reminding myself that I love you, and I don’t want to run screaming into the night…” 

“Michael and Jack,” Jack prompts, brightly.

“-met in 2008, when Michael was an attending physician and Jack a fellow in the emergency department of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.”

“Is that where I know you from?” Jack beams. “I swore you looked familiar.”

Robby tilts his head and shoots Jack back a wide eyed fuck you smile before he continues. “And yadda yadda yadda, we’re highly credentialed and come from places and have personalities…”

“So true.”

“…At work, they dedicated themselves to the care and betterment of their community, and became especially skilled at identifying the needs of children and other vulnerable patients.”

“The offer to be TIME’s joint Men of The Year is in the mail, I assume.”

“They bonded over their professional pressures, their shared sense of humor, and handling of some of the unexpected cases that come up in emergency medicine,” Robby reads. He dares to flick a look up to Jack, who refrains from interrupting. It’ll be more fun to lull him into a false sense of security for a bit. “On one occasion, they treated a patient who had been injured by a blow torch, and were concerned that the patient's father declined to stay, so that he could go home and rest his chronic back pain. Together, they disarmed the grizzled welder with their playful back and forth, and saved him from what would have been a deadly aortic dissection.”

Jack cups his hands around his mouth. “And that man is here in the audience today. Sir, come on down.”

Robby sighs. “He’s probably repairing the pearly gates, by now,” he smiles, wistfully. “But a good catch is a good catch, Dr. Abbot.”

“Oh, I know a good catch when I make one,” Jack grins back.

His cheeks are starting to go pink, but Robby forges on. 

“Their productive and friendly working relationship became romantic in 2013, two years after the death of Jack’s wife, Sofie Detweiler. They were drawn together by Michael’s admiration of Jack’s fearlessness, and Jack’s fascination- I assume- for Michael’s myriad eccentricities.”

“I would never say the word ‘myriad’ and you know it.”

“‘Many’,” Robby amends, tapping in an edit. “…As they greatly value their physical health, they’ve kept active together with hiking, impromptu air guitar concerts, and training at the gym. They have also broadened one another’s cultural horizons, eagerly exploring each other’s favorite musicians, museums, and memorabilia shops.”

Jack chuckles. “Is that what they’re calling antiquing these days?”

“It’s alliterative,” Robby says. “…And there’s almost always sports stuff!”

“Yet its boxes of lamps filling up your basement, is it not?”

The burning look Robby gives Jack could negate the need for any of them.

“We’re getting to the shitty parts, if you don’t mind letting me power through...”

Jack nods.

“While they wanted a long future together, after two years it became apparent that Michael’s desire to be a father was too far ahead of Jack’s readiness for a family. Out of love and hope for Michael’s happiness, Jack ended the relationship, and took some time to work on his inner conflicts. Despite this change in their personal lives, Michael and Jack continued working well together at PTMC and were soon close friends again…”

“You’re pausing, but I didn’t say anything,” Jack notes.

“Is ‘inner conflicts’ the way you’d want to put it?” Robby asks.

Jack shrugs. “I assume ‘shit’ would be frowned upon in this forum, so, yeah.”

“All right.” Robby scrolls a bit. “In 2015, Michael began a relationship with Janey Malloy,” he reads. “He lived with her and her then six year old son Jake Malloy for several years, and greatly enjoyed the paternal role he played in that family. The relationship with Janey ended amicably with the 2020 quarantine, and to this day Jake and Michael are still close, Jake and Jack are very friendly, and he is considered a beloved member of the wider PTMC family.”

“Perfectly put.”

“Also in 2020, Michael became chief of PTMC’s emergency department. It was a great relief to him that this challenge was paired with Jack becoming his night shift counterpart. Their trust in each other as they shouldered ever more responsibility served to deepen their emotional relationship, once more. They offered each other daily support and stability during this turbulent time at the hospital, and as uniquely understanding friends… Does that scan?” Robby squints and taps around, adjusting phrasing.

“Sounds pretty good to me.”

But Robby is exasperated with himself, clearly. “I’ve got some clauses in here my freshman year English professor would have crucified me for,” he winces.

“Good thing you’re submitting to the Office of Children, Youth, and Families then, not Harper’s Bazaar.”

Robby scrunches his face as he keeps typing. “That’s a fashion magazine, not a literary one.”

“Huh.” Jack nods slowly. “I always assumed it was full of bizarre humor, like MAD magazine,” he says.

“No you did not,” Robby chuckles.

Jack adjusts an invisible ten gallon hat, hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, and leans back as though the kitchen counter were a corral. “I’m just a simple ol’ cowpoke, Robby. You know the only time I have more than an inch of sophistication in me is when you’re balls deep.”

Robby takes one bland look at Jack and then turns around and marches himself across the kitchen toward the door. “Now I don’t want to read the next sentence!” he fumes.

“Too turned on?” Jack calls after him.

“No!” Robby stops with a hand on the doorframe. “You’ll like it too much.”

“Aw, c’mon. I like most of your sentences,” Jack pouts. But he has two functioning eyes, capable of reading. He picks up Robby’s laptop to see for himself. “By 2024, Michael and Jack resumed their intimate relationship… Oh, did we?!”

Robby comes back and seizes his laptop while Jack is still wheezing with laughter. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I’m subscribing to whatever metric it is you use for fetal measurements. Only seems fair…”

Leave it to Robby to see the poetic symmetry of them taking responsibility for a baby as balance to Jack’s sympathy for poor kids from the sticks who have no business with that lot.

“It’s probably better for our application than saying we hooked back up last night,” Jack admits.

“Right,” Robby says, clipped. He puts his laptop back on the counter and leans in without looking at Jack. “Besides, I... had a handful of, uhm… dreams starting around then. But we’re not gonna get bogged down in that. Moving on.”  

“I love you so fucking much right now, man.”

“Given the extraordinary stakes that Michael faces in his day to day,” Robby reads, louder than Jack can interrupt, “he considers Jack to be his hero. He treasures Jack’s steady presence in his life for all these years, his wisdom, his generosity, his sensitivity, and his sense of justice. Michael always understood, despite some snippy comments he made last night, that when Jack denied him the child he wanted years ago, he was acting in the best interest of that child, and loved him all the more for that integrity.”

“God, Robby.” Jack covers his eyes with one hand. It’s not much of a surprise that they’re wet. 

“Michael sees the long way that Jack has come since then, and the commitment to growth that he knows Jack would bring to fatherhood,” Robby says, his voice starting to crack. “Having carefully considered the variety of challenges ahead of them, Michael and Jack are confident that as partners in parenting, they will be as well paired as ever.” Here, Robby has to stop and catch his breath. “It has been said that fatherhood is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man. In that spirit, Michael and Jack humbly seek to better three lives…” Robby clears his throat and stands straight up. “That’s it, that’s what I wrote.”

Jack quickly wipes his eyes with the heels of his hands and blows out a breath. “I mean, I’d let us keep Marianne after reading that,” he laughs, unable to otherwise steady himself. “But then again, I’m a sucker for your turn of phrase.”

Robby sniffs and nods. He takes off his glasses and tosses them on the counter, then comes and collects Jack into his arms. He tucks his own damp face into Jack’s neck. “We should get somebody who hates me to read this over,” he laughs, muffled by their embrace.

Jack pats Robby’s back and then squeezes him tight. “Yeah. CC it to Surgery, they’ll rip it to shreds."

“D’you have any other notes on content?”

“Mm. Of course.” Jack takes an inspired breath. “It should have a part that goes, ‘Jack thinks Michael is an angel on this earth-”

“Oh, shut up,” Robby groans.

“‘Everyday that he-’”

Before he can get another word out, Robby kisses Jack, absorbing any meaning he would have put into it anyway. You are everything to me. Everything I want. Everything I want to be. 

When they break apart, Jack claps a hand to Robby’s cheek and sighs. “But seriously," he says. “It might balance out some of your gushing if you can find a non fucked up, non Freudian way to say… I think you’re the kind of good man, and loving man- that I wished I’d had as my dad. And that it totally melts my panties.”

Robby fails to hold in a laugh. “Yeah. I’ll find a way to reword that.”

Unfortunately, it's almost time for Jack to go. He has always hated to leave Robby wanting, in any way.

“Is that it? What else do you need so you can cross it off?” Jack asks.

“The family bio?”

“Mhmm.”

“Supposed to include some pictures of us… I’ve got a bunch. There’s one I love from back in the day, when the Broncos got absolutely clobbered at the Superbowl…”

That makes Jack’s heart stutter. He kept that, all this time? Not that Jack can remember taking that one picture apart from any of the others. But he knows there were kisses captured in digital amber. Kisses Robby remembered, didn’t delete, despite the years. He knows he loved Robby by then and he never really stopped. He never wants to stop. He won’t.

“You must pay a fortune in Cloud storage,” Jack shakes his head. “I don’t have any pictures of before.”

One of the drawbacks of being prone to radical decision making.

“Then we’ll have to take some new pictures,” Robby says, leaning in to nuzzle at him.

Jack sniffs and bumps his forehead to Robby’s. “Yeah.”

“Could hire a pro, even,” Robby smiles. “Somebody should probably document it, if Jack ever wants to make an honest man of that Michael guy…”

“Honest?” Jack grimaces. “That ship has sailed. When did you say we got back together again? We should get our story straight.”

Maybe reenact it for authenticity sometime, if Robby wants to be a dork about it.

“Hmm.” Robby straightens up to his full height to think, but he stays close, his fingers gripped into Jack’s waist. “Maybe when we went to that EMS panel that got its room reservation cancelled mid PowerPoint?”

“That was suuuch a shitshow,” Jack groans, rolling his head back. “...But if we’re gonna do some light fraud, we should really make it our own. What about your birthday, a few weeks later? We could’ve picked back up where we left off.”

“I remember,” Robby nods. “We were actually together here, so. You know. The ballistics match.”

“Then that’s when.”

Jack stopped by to give him some Pens tickets and shoot the shit before his shift. Robby had taken the day off, and wasn’t really expecting to see anyone. When he opened the door he looked so soft and disheveled in his pajamas, like Jack used to get to see him, and hadn’t in a long time.

Robby struggles against a lump in his throat, his pained expression a bit more shadowy than it should be at this hour in the height of summer. “Y’know, those tickets you gave me…they really kept me going for a couple months,” he confesses. “Gave me something to look forward to.”

“Good,” says Jack. “Best money I ever spent, then.”

The wavering corners of Robby’s mouth rearrange into a wholehearted smile. “So,” he says. “You gave me the tickets and I said, ‘Thanks man. This is awesome. Are you working tonight, or can you hang for a bit?.’... And what’d you say?”

Jack just says what he’s thinking right now, looking into Robby’s glittering eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want to go to work, ‘cause I had somewhere else I’d rather be.”

But it was probably when he was with Robby.

“Yeah. that would get my attention,” Robby says. He runs his hands up and down Jack's sides. “Doctor Abbot, the Energizer bunny of ER physicians, wanting to stop and smell the roses?”

“Shit,” Jack swears at himself. “I should have brought you a bouquet…"

“In this version of events you did,” Robby decides. “And they withered without ever getting put in water, because for the next forty-eight hours we spent every spare minute we had in bed.”

Jack thinks about checking his watch to see how many spare minutes they have right now. It takes twenty one minutes to get his backpack from the coat closet, get into his truck, and get to PTMC from here. But he doesn’t check his watch. Instead he kisses Robby again, agreeing to their invention with a long, promising kiss to make it real. Soon. Jack wraps his arms tighter and draws Robby back, towards a wall. When they make solid, full bodied impact, they briefly gasp apart and then scramble into an even more fervent liplock. The hands they hold each other with turn into greedy ones, trying to grope back some time from those of the clock. If it weren’t for the stroller and what a help it will be to Robby, Jack might say fuck it. Being an hour late wouldn’t be the end of the world. But in their line of work... it could cost someone. Gently, he pushes Robby away.

“I gotta go, babe. But we’re both gonna have to learn to slow down for those roses at some point, aren’t we?” Jack grinds his jaw around at that, unsure how they’ll pull it off, but determined that they will. “We are big fans of burning the candle at both ends here...”

“Yeah...” Robby’s smile is sheepish again as he pulls away. At least until he glances back toward the living room, where Marianne is sleeping. Then it’s radiant. “Gotta save some candle for her,” he says.

Jack goes to grab the car seat, across the kitchen. “Whatever candles we’ve got left after that- date night?” he says, spinning along the way and raising an eyebrow back at Robby.

“Oh, you bet,” he grins.

“Don’t try and finish all that paper work tonight,” Jack insists, swinging the car seat for emphasis. “And eat that sandwich!”

Before Jack heads out of the house, he passes through the living room. He doesn’t want to disturb Marianne, sleeping in the pack ‘n play, but he’s got to see her before he goes. Get a load of those chubby cheeks. Flawless. Her tiny little pucker of a mouth, and the thready delicacy of the capillaries in her eyelids. Something perfect he gets to come back to in the morning no matter what kind of horror show the night has in store.

“Keep an eye on each other while I’m out, all right?”

When Jack gets to the hospital he’s got a text or two from Robby to read. He gives Kim a quick call first, to let her know where he’s parked, then he figures he can procrastinate with Robby a while longer.

(RR)

Kim has a stroller she wants to offload.
How should I refer to you? Should we
play it close to the vest until after Tues?

Today 7:07 PM

Almost done with paperwork for
tonight. Promise. Just want to get the
emotional colonoscopy part of the
profile over with. I want you to read
it. But I can’t do a whole back and
forth about it with you. Not for a bit.

That sounds fine to me.
Whenever you’re ready.

👍

Tell you what, I can’t wait to print
out the family bio and laminate it.
I think I’m gonna post it on some
telephone poles or something.

Go big or go home.

Leaflet drop from a plane.

If going home to you’s an option...

Think of all the books we could
buy with that plane money, man.

❤️

Marianne’s back up, giving me
a “Hey, why didn’t you pause
the movie for me?” face.

Tell her the house rule is if
you snooze you lose the remote.
She’s gotta learn sometime.

Picture please.