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When Robby ambled in a little early for his shift, central was a hive of activity, Walsh calling back to Jack as she accompanied a gurney out of Trauma 2: "Learn from the master, soldier boy."
"When you find one, be sure to let me know, princess," he shot right back, but the note of fondness in his tone made Robby freeze. That wasn't their usual back-and-forth. That held warmth to it. An undercurrent of knowing. A joke shared between two people who'd seen each other naked. More than once.
Robby clocked Jack watching Walsh go—what the fuck—and then he went back into Trauma 2, debriefing with the team. It was the tiniest moment, nothing—
And yet Robby's whole understanding had just realigned. Jack and Walsh. What the fuck.
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Jack looked from the intern picture to Robby again, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. "Jesus, this is like a recipe." He gestured between the picture and Robby, young and old. "It's like twink plus seasoning equals daddy. Fuck," he said, a kind of helpless note to it. Then he walked out, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Robby's head.
What did that mean?
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Jack was poised for a beautiful three-pointer when Jake spoke, "So, hey, what's it feel like to get fucked?"
The surprise of it scattered his focus for an instant, but figuring that was what Jake wanted, Jack let muscle memory pull him through, releasing the basketball—and getting nothing but net, fuck yeah.
Then he looked over at Jake and tipped his head, nonchalant. "Vulnerable."
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Gifting someone a stethoscope at a milestone was very traditional, he knew, but some traditions should be observed. They kept you anchored to something greater than yourself. And this one was just...warm. Jack always thought of the people who'd given him his steths—Colonel Jacquemin, who'd gifted him his first Littmann when he finished residency, or Lizzie, who'd given him his current Littmann III when Adamson hired him as an attending. It was a reminder of the people who loved you, believed in you, helped you along the way, a physical token of those you carried with you.
Sure, maybe it wasn't exactly Jack's place to give one to Robby, more properly the domain of family or mentors. If Adamson had lived to retire, he would've gifted Robby a steth to celebrate his promotion, Jack was sure. Robby's family was gone, so that wasn't an option, and Jack would be damned if Robby's elevation to one of the highest posts in their field would go uncelebrated.
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"Just a couple days," Robby said, because he couldn't say what he really meant. Couldn't say, I don't want to leave. Couldn't say, I don't want to go back to my empty condo and my packed bags. Couldn't say, I think I might be in love with you. “Until Duke's out of surgery. Then I'll figure out the trip."
Jack's jaw tightened. He heard the deflection, Robby knew he did, but he didn't push. Just nodded and reached for Robby's wrist tugging him back down.
"Okay, a couple days," Jack offered. "Or longer."
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The hospital has its rules: chart everything, compartmentalize, move on. When Robby comes home wrecked by the day, Jack writes his own kind of protocol. One built from hands, breath, and the quiet insistence that love counts as treatment.
Series
- Part 7 of Pitt Kinktober 2025
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The job offer came out of nowhere. Centennial Hospital, a level 1 trauma center in Colorado, wanted him to take over for their retiring chief attending. They'd heard the same rumors as everyone about PTMC—how it'd be taken over, transformed, the ED shut down. Didn't Jack want to get ahead of it and find himself a new gig, head of the department, master of his own fate? And the money, of course. Lots and lots of money.
Jack promptly told them to fuck off.
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“That’s it,” Jack tells him. “Wanna roll your hips for me? Grind down on it, I bet it’ll feel amazing.”
Jack could say anything and add for me? at the end, and Robby would be acting without a thought, doing whatever he asked. He doesn’t care if he gets teased; he even thinks it’s amusing when he gets called whipped or leashed or that he’s Jack’s good dog, because when he hears it from Jack, it’s so good that he can’t imagine it ever being bad. Even if it does make him go red and feel an urgent need to leave the room when he hears too many comments in that vein.
It’s not a hardship to do as Jack asks, really. He never asks what he thinks Robby can’t, doesn’t want to, or shouldn’t give, and this—
This is something he can give, he wants to give, he should give, especially and only to Jack, and he grinds down as told, a slow roll onto the vibrator that’s been plugged in him for over half a day.
for day three of the pitt kinktober: vibrator.
Series
- Part 2 of pittober 2025
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Jack learns that Robby has never actually been eaten out before, and offers to amend that.
Pitt Kinktober Day 21: blowjobs/cunnilingus
(fic is in English, title is from a song)
Series
- Part 3 of pitt kinktober fics
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“Where’s your boyfriend?” Charlotte asked, her voice casual but carrying that teasing lilt she knew would get under his skin.
Jack didn’t look up right away. “What boyfriend?” he said, closing the beer tap with a quick twist.
“The guy who tips you ten bucks for a single glass of wine,” she said. “And, weirdly, only shows up when you’re working.”
or Jack is a bartender and an accidents turns Robby into a regular
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"I think," Jack started again, shaking his head in disbelief. He ran his knuckles down Robby’s bare forearm, right beneath his tattoo. "I think you might be pregnant."
The sound of a ten car pile-up on the freeway sprung to life inside Robby’s head and then, as abruptly as it had materialized in there, it vanished. Robby quietly met Jack’s bewildered expression with a dumbfounded look of his own.
"I—what?"
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I Know You've Danced a Hundred Songs, But Stay With Me One More by TheTimetravellerCat
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
20 Dec 2025
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Robby doesn't think Jack could possibly ever want him, not if he knew. He has been there too many times in the past, he knows how it always goes. He doesn't need to add another one to the list. So he turns him down. Even if it kills him inside.
Jack fell for Robby the first time he saw him, the first time he found himself under the gaze of those soft brown puppy eyes. Right then, he knew he was gone for. But alas, it seems that Robby is ready to reject him at every turn. Unless…
“Hey, Jack?”
“Hm?” Jack turned his head to look at him.
Robby could hear his heart beating loudly into his ears. He could still backpedal, say anything else. Or he could take the risk.
“You think you'd still want to buy me that drink?”Now illustrated by lin4lool 💞
Series
- Part 2 of Trans Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
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“Michael,” Jack repeats, and his real, full name coming out of his mouth twice in a row snaps Robby’s attention back up to him in the pitch-dark elevator. “I need you to talk to me and tell me what you’re feeling, right now.”
Robby’s heart pounds into his throat. His next contraction takes hold, too hard, too much, too fast, making his insides burn like he’s going to be sick— but then Jack’s hand finds his, blood-slippery and shaky and hanging on tight, and he swallows thickly to say, “I don’t— I don’t feel good, Jack.”
or: jack and robby's biggest concerns are getting through their residency and keeping their relationship a secret— until robby goes into early labor while trapped in an elevator with jack during a blizzard.
Series
- Part 1 of black irises in the sunshine
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Robby is fifty-four, tired and experiencing the worst shift of his career.
Oh, and he’s apparently having a baby in the makeshift morgue.
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As she walked away, another text came in, Robby unable to help checking.
you blushing for me?
...oh. Oh, that absolute asshole. Jack knew exactly what he was doing, sending shit that would turn him on.
I'm fucking working here, Robby sent back, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He'd just...not look.
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"It's Santos."
Parker's dry observations flitted through Jack's mind again—that ever-present question of whether he should raise it...but now didn't seem like the time. "A month in and still driving you up the wall? What'd she do this time?"
Robby shook his head, despairing. "What didn't she do?" Then he refocused on Jack, something sharper there, more intent. "Doesn't matter. Distract me?"
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John wanted something to show Andy’s love that would last. So he could always be thinking about him, more than he already does.
Or
John is absolutely crazy about Andy so he gets a tattoo on a whim to show it.
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Andrew's life after the detention.
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In school years, which were kind of like dog years, Andy and Allison still only lasted about five minutes.
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"Congrats again on the award; you deserve it." And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.
Probably off to go plan how to hit on Jack. Jack, who this random doctor wanted to have sex with. Here. At the conference.
Intellectually, Robby knew that was what people did at these things. Drunken hookups at conferences were common, though often denied, if not regretted. Robby had never partaken because that was not his speed, but Jack—
Well, Jack had no such qualms. And at an ED medical conference, he was basically a rockstar. He could probably have anyone he wanted.