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big titty broth girlfriend (gender neutral)

@ghostalservice / ghostalservice.tumblr.com

They/She. Bi/queer/autistic. πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡±πŸ‡§πŸ‡«πŸ‡·πŸ³οΈβ€πŸŒˆ. Postal worker, poll warden, union steward. Married to demonbloodsausagedog. Hatched in the 80s, in online fandom since the 90s. Mom of at least one trans kid. Find all my online spaces here: https://ghostalservice.carrd.co/

Robby loves his little Latin phrases. Robby loves his little scattering of Latin phrase tattoos. Robby loves Jack. Robby is impulsive and full of more whimsy than one might expect. These are all things Jack forgets on the morning he slips a note into Robby’s pocket at handover.

When Robby had left Jack’s bed that morning it had been to the sound of a great number of grumbling protests as Jack scrambled to lure him back under the covers and into his arms. It didn’t work. Robby had grinned down at him and mumbled β€œCarpe diem, Jack.” before pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead and leaving the bedroom. That was the last thing Jack had heard before sleep took him back.

The vote is just a stupid thing, a scribble about leftovers being in the fridge that had better be eaten by the time Jack gets home. He’d signed it, jokingly,

β€˜Carpe noctem, or whatever the fuck’

It makes Robby smile, when Jack sees him read it just as he’s heading out the door. Robby smiling means Jack starts his shift in a good mood and has a generally pretty decent evening.

Robby is quieter than usual. Jack assumes he’s sleeping.

He wasn’t.

When Jack walks in the door Robby already looks guilty in the same way as a Labrador that got into the snack cupboard; repentant but not regretful. He’s already opened a beer for Jack. Suspicious.

β€œWhat did you do.”

β€œI’m really happy with it, before you freak out.”

β€œRobby.” Jack folds his arms, a surefire way to get Robby to both obey, and stare lustily at his biceps. A win win.

Robby winces, gaze darting away, and hooks a finger in the neck of his shirt, tugging the collar down to reveal the shine of second skin covering a brand new tattoo.

β€˜Carpe noctem’ is scrawled below his collarbone in an elegant cursive.

This is somehow not as bad as he expected.

β€œThis is somehow not as bad as I expected.” Jack hums, but Robby is not done and pulls down the other side of the collar to show the writing scrawled there.

β€˜or whatever the fuck’ is tattooed in Jack’s handwriting, etched forever along this fucking ridiculous man’s body.

β€œThis is exactly as bad as I expected.” He tells him, but Robby is starting to curl in on himself and Jack both can’t and won’t have that. He leans in to press gentle lips to the film covering the ink. Leans up to press them again to Robby’s.

β€œYou’re insane.” He tells him. β€œI love you.”

β€œYeah.” Robby agrees mildly. β€œA bit maybe.”

β€œNow come to bed with me so that later we can β€˜Carpe noctem’ all night long.”

Robby laughs at that, loud and open, Jack’s writing on his skin, Jack’s hand in his.

Michael's apartment was dark except for the low, flickering light of his TV that was almost painfully familiar.

Robby stood in the doorway much longer than he needed to, his bag strap cutting into his shoulder as he just… breathed it in. The smell of the place. The low murmur of some game coming from another room. The fact that he was here at all.

It all felt comically familiar and yet so strange. Like he was coming back to a house that used to belong to a version of him that he had buried weeks ago.

He dropped his keys into the little bowl on the counter, noticing a different, awfully familiar pair already stuck in there. The sigh that started to leave him, got stuck right in the back of his throat as he slowly but surely followed the light down the hall.

Jack was in his bed.