Chapter Text
Robby was staring at Jack’s ass. He scooted closer as Jack unlocked the door, planting a hand on his husband’s lower back. Jack glanced over his shoulder, unimpressed. “If you pick me up, I’m going to kick your teeth out.”
Robby smiled cheekily. “Just wanted to carry you over the threshold, is that so much to ask?”
“Yeah. It is.” Jack pushed open the heavy front door and they stepped inside. The house was completely empty, a blank canvas. The sellers had even taken the chandelier in the dining room. They’d need to replace it. Robby was excited to replace it. This home was where they’d spend the rest of their life together, and Robby wanted to build it brick by brick.
The realtor had left a bottle of champagne on the kitchen counter with two glasses, but Robby was distracted pressing a kiss to Jack’s lips, cheeks cradled in his hands. “Want to christen it?” He suggested, waggling his eyebrows.
“On the floor? Aren’t we a bit old for that?”
“Well, what did we come here for, then?”
“I came for the champagne.” Jack popped open the bottle and filled the flutes, holding one out for Robby. He took it, letting his fingers brush Jack’s before he took a sip.
His insides felt like the champagne—bubbly, bursting with happiness. “I can just imagine…kids climbing that tree outside, making Nonna’s red sauce on that giant stove, little trick-or-treaters coming up the front stoop.”
“Falling asleep in a massive bed with floor to ceiling blackout curtains.”
Robby chuckled and finished the rest of his champagne in a gulp. He had pulled Jack out of bed to sign the closing paperwork, so currently his husband was a bit grumpier than usual. “We’ll need to refinish the primary bathroom. And I want to paint the bedroom…that red is a lot.”
“Agreed. What are you thinking? Blue?”
“Blue could work.” They wandered through each room, making plans and taking notes. A new mirror in one of the bathrooms upstairs, since the old one had a crack in it. The dining room chandelier, obviously. Knocking down a wall and expanding the primary bathroom, to have a roll-in shower and a Robby-sized tub. And a nice coat of denim blue paint for the bedroom, with a wall rail so Jack could hop between the bathroom and the closet without his leg or crutches.
As they came back downstairs, list of tasks in hand, Jack planted himself on the bottom step. Robby tore his eyes away from the empty expanse of the living room to catch Jack looking up at him, an affectionate smile on his face. “What?”
“I like seeing you happy.”
“I’m happy,” Robby said defensively.
“If you say so, Mr. I-haven’t-slept-through-the-night-in-months.”
Robby scoffed. “Just because I’m not sleeping, doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”
“If you say so, Mr. I-have-sex-so-I-don’t-have-to-talk-about-my-problems.”
“Okay.” Robby came over and sat on the steps next to Jack. “I’ve been in a funk, I admit it. But I am happy. You make me happy.”
Jack leaned back on the steps, his face falling as he looked away again. “You shouldn’t be relying on me for your happiness.”
“I’m not. That’s why I bought the house.”
“That’s not better.”
Robby slung his arm around Jack and pulled him closer, his eyes still wandering. The space did make him happy, not because of the decorating potential, but because one day, this house would hold his family: Jack, of course, his light brown hair getting saltier by the year. Monty, sitting in a big, chintzy armchair, his laughter filling the space. And kids. Foster kids staying overnight, or for a week, or for years; so many children that their walls would have more photos than they could hold. Maybe a few permanent adoptees, if the situation allowed. Holiday dinners would require card tables and folding chairs spilling into the yard, because everyone and their brother would be invited back. That’s what made him happy.
And…maybe he had been stressed lately. Jack had been dealing with recurring, debilitating migraines, and a few months ago Monty had pulled Robby from night shift with Jack to day shift with him, announcing he was planning on retiring and needed to train Robby to run the ED. Robby missed working with Jack, and he missed sleeping with Jack…he missed sleeping, period. There were so many duties in the ED that he had never realized Monty covered; currently it was budget season, and the extra meetings and report reviews were kicking Robby’s butt.
“We’ll figure it out,” Robby said, trying to convince himself as much as he was Jack.
There was a knock at the door. Speak of the devil. Robby flung the door open, welcoming his surrogate father to their new home. Monty had brought pizza and a small gift bag, and set them down on the counter before throwing an arm around Robby’ shoulders and squeezing. “Michael, this place is incredible,” he boomed. Jack had joined them at the door, and Monty offered him a firm handshake. “You two chose well. Great neighborhood. Beautiful house.”
Robby’s heart warmed. “Come, come, I’ll give you the tour!” Monty complimented every room, from the textured ceilings to the natural wooden baseboards.
“And what are you going do with three extra bedrooms?” Monty asked. He was standing at the top of the stairs, peeking through the open doorways.
“Well…” Robby sidled closer to Jack, sliding his arm around Jack’s back. “That’s the other bit of news. We’ve applied to be foster parents. What you did for me was…the greatest gift anyone could ever give me. I was a messed up eleven-year-old knucklehead, and you took me in and gave me a home...” He felt himself getting choked up. “…and a family. Even if it was just the two of us.”
Monty had been on call at PTMC when Robby had been brought in as an eleven-year-old, borderline hypothermic after being locked out of his elderly grandma’s house on a freezing day in January. Then he had taken Robby in and had given him…a decidedly normal life. In comparison to the other eleven years of Robby’s life, normal had been sublime. Sure, Monty had been a little strict, but it was only because he had been the first person to ever believe that Robby was worth something, that he deserved to be taught and molded and built into a man that accomplished things. And for Robby, that was everything.
“That’s…” It wasn’t often that the older man was speechless. “That’s terrific.”
“You’ll be a grand-foster,” Jack pointed out, always one for a good pun.
Monty smiled softly, now looking in each room with more interest, like he was imagining it filled with kids. Monty still lived by himself in the home where he had raised Robby, claiming he had never met the right person. He never said woman, Robby had recognized over the years, just person. It made him wonder. But he was old-fashioned, and never really made Robby feel like he could ask. So, this house, and Robby’s dreams of a huge family, were as much for Monty as they were for himself. He was proud that he could give back to the man, to thank him for…everything, really.
“Pizza’s getting cold,” Jack reminded them, breaking them out of their delusions.
“We don’t have any plates,” Robby admitted sheepishly. “Or…you know, a table.”
“I think I can manage,” Monty said with a grin. “Are there any bubbles left?”
“Take my glass,” Jack offered. “I’m on shift in a few hours.”
Robby topped them off and cracked open the pizza. “Hawaiian?”
“Absolutely,” Monty grinned. Jack rolled his eyes and began picking the pineapple off his slice. Monty nudged the gift bag towards Robby. “I brought something for you.”
Robby pulled out some tissue paper and felt something skinny and round, like a pen. He gently uncovered a small cylinder, ringed with Hebrew characters. “What…?”
“It’s a mezuzah. I know you don’t rely much on your faith—” That was a polite way to put it, Robby hadn’t been to synagogue in decades, “—but I thought it might be nice to have a connection to your family.”
Robby rolled it in his fingers. He recognized it now; his grandma had these in her house, little containers with bits of scroll in them that had Hebrew prayers. Even if he didn’t really believe anymore, Monty was right, it would remind him of her. “Thank you.”
“There’s something else too.”
In the bottom of the bag, wrapped in tissue paper, was a familiar shape. “Your koa bowl?”
The intricately carved wooden bowl had sat in their entry way for Robby’s entire life, untouched, except when Monty polished it. “A touch of Hawai’i. Koa wood represents resilience and strength. It’s only right that I pass it down to you.”
“That’s…it’s…” Robby had to swallow hard. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, son.” Monty cleared his throat. “Jack, you’re on shift tonight? You’ll miss the game!” The Pittsburgh Pirates, of course, was the one thing (other than Robby) that Jack and Monty could usually agree on. The trio had talked about getting season tickets, but between night shift and day shift, and all three being attending physicians, someone was always missing games. Robby sat back and let them bicker about how the season was going as he enjoyed an infrequent moment of pure contentment, until Monty finally checked his watch. “Well, I should be going. Congratulations again.”
“Thanks, Monty. See you tomorrow.” Robby closed the door and turned back to Jack, who was downing the last slice of pizza. “Do we need to swing by the apartment before shift?”
“Yeah, I didn’t bring anything with me, sorry.” Jack finished the pizza and rubbed his greasy hands on his jeans, making Robby roll his eyes.
“Just get in the car.”
The ride back to their apartment was quiet, and Jack caught Robby mid-yawn. “You finally going to get some sleep tonight?”
“Maybe. I need to read that journal article Monty sent. We might be updating some of the triage criteria.”
“Not maybe. Sleep is important.”
Robby smiled wryly. “My night will include sleep.”
“And groceries.”
“Do we need groceries?”
“Yes, we need groceries. Unless you’re satisfied by half a bag of carrots and a PB&J.”
“I could be more okay with that than you might think.”
Jack rolled his eyes and watched out the window as the lights of the city flew past, but a few minutes later, he turned to stare at Robby. “What if we screw it up?”
“Hm?”
“Being foster parents. What if we get our first foster kid, and you get stressed, and I get a migraine, and suddenly we don’t have any groceries and the kid gets pushed to the side while we’re wrapped up in our own lives? That’s not…I don’t want to do that.”
“So, we won’t.”
“But that’s our pattern, Mike. Something bad happens, we deal with it in not-so-healthy ways, and we ignore it until it goes away. Who’s to say that anything is going to change?”
“Because there’s going to be a kid.”
“And that changes things?”
Robby’s jaw hardened. “It does for me.” He pulled up at a stoplight and looked over at Jack. “I know that I’ve been…distant, lately. Busy. This is going to help, I swear. I’m going to be better for you. And you’re going to be a great dad. You’re the most level-headed person I know, and you are loyal to a fault. Whatever kid lives with us is going to be lucky to have you in their corner.”
Jack hummed an acknowledgement but didn’t look satisfied. “Why now?” he finally asked.
“I’m spinning my wheels. The hospital…it’s my life, but it’s not enough anymore. We each see a hundred patients every day, and the only ones I remember are the ones I can’t save.” He pulled away from the stoplight and took a deep breath. “I want to make a difference. A real difference, like Monty did, and this is how I do it.”
“Saving a hundred patients each shift isn’t enough anymore, huh?”
Robby turned Jack’s words over in his brain. “No,” he said resolutely. “Not when I can do more.”
Jack snorted. “Can you? Do more?”
He pulled into their parking space and shut the engine off, capturing his husband’s level gaze in his own. “I can’t without you.”
Jack looked like he still didn’t fully believe him, but he eventually nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it, then. Together.” He pushed open the car door, and Robby followed him into the apartment. Robby watched as Jack grabbed his work shoes and the bag of baby carrots and left again, pressing a kiss to Robby’s cheek on the way out.
Jack’s worry had left him restless, but the new house had left him inspired—a dangerous combination—so Robby tossed the evening plans out the window. He drove to Home Depot and trolled the aisles, planning more than shopping, but came away with his first project: a new light for the dining room. He put his trust in HGTV and chose a fixture that looked vaguely like one he saw in the last episode of Property Brothers.
In the new house, he whistled as he unpacked the light and a new stepladder, and sat down to read the installation directions. He went through them once, then a second time, and then a third time, because why was hanging a light fixture more complicated than a Reboa? He set up the ladder and turned off the breaker, and was reading through the directions for the fourth time by the light of his phone when it rang in his hands. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Dr. Robinavitch?”
“This is he.”
“My name is Gloria Underwood, I’m a social worker with the city of Pittsburgh DCFS.”
“Oh! Is this about the application? We just sent it in; I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly.” He glanced around—he had turned the dining room into a warzone, with random screws and packaging scattered all around him, and wires dangling precariously from the ceiling. If DCFS did a home inspection today, they would fail immediately.
“It’s…not exactly about the application. I did read it, and I saw you were a doctor, and I could use a second opinion.”
That was…odd. But he’d play along. “What can I do for you, Ms. Underwood?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” She paused. “It’s about one of my kids. Ten-year-old boy, type 1 diabetes. Something’s eating at me; he just looks so skinny. Our pediatrician said it was the diabetes, but I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going on. Maybe neglect? But I don’t know enough about diabetes to overrule the assessment.”
Robby understood the call a lot better now. “Can you send me his file?”
“No, definitely not. Like I said, I shouldn’t even be calling you. I’m on my personal phone; if my boss found out, he’d be livid that I shared any details at all.”
“I get it.”
“I’m a mandated reporter, and…I’m right on the edge with this one.”
Robby sat down on the ground and rubbed the back of his head as he considered the options. “Kids with type 1 do tend to be on the lower edge of the weight spectrum, but there’s no reason a child should be underweight. Do you know, is his diabetes pretty well-controlled?”
“I don’t know,” Gloria admitted, sounding embarrassed. “It seems like it, he’s never had any issues.”
“Can you get a second opinion?”
“It could take weeks.”
“What about bringing him to the ER? I work at PTMC, I can be there in ten minutes.”
There were a couple of seconds of quiet. “I don’t want to scare him. I can try to get another doctor, but everything else about the placement is good…amazing, even, so I might just be overreacting.”
“I can call in some favors? Try to get someone to take him sooner.”
“They need to be cleared by my office first, it’s just easier if I do it,” she sighed. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Robinavitch.”
“Robby,” he clarified instinctively. “Call me Dr. Robby. Um…our application?”
“It’s still being processed. Sorry, I honestly can’t do anything about that.”
“No worries. Let me know how this all shakes out.”
“I might not be able to. The whole confidentiality thing.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for smoke signals.”
He thought he heard her laugh, but couldn’t be sure. “Good night, Dr. Robby.”
After she hung up, Robby stared at his phone for a beat, processing. It was his first taste of what it would be like, as a foster parent. Worrying about a kid he had never met, wondering about a problem he’d never learn the answer to. He tried to put it out of his head and focus on installing the light, but as the sun slipped below the horizon, he was slowly realizing that it was a losing battle on both accounts. With a sigh, he packed up his tools and headed back to the car. It was nearing eight, and he still needed to grocery shop, and read the article, and get the goddamn sleep that Jack kept bugging him about.
Once he finally made it into bed, though, he tossed and turned, thinking about the phone call. There had to be a differential diagnosis that could explain why the boy wasn’t gaining weight…It could be a tapeworm. Or a thyroid disorder. Or something metabolic. Anything that wasn’t willful neglect of a child.
Robby didn’t sleep a wink.