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Robby feels Frank's anxiety all the way from the bed to where he's standing by the closet with Jack, getting dressed with a lot of help and soft maneuvering.
"I'd like to go on record and say that I never fuss this much when you're in pain," he says, just to make that point while Frank feels like this. So that he can bring this moment up next time Frank complains about his worrying. He learned from the first couple of times in their relationship when Frank had a pain flare – learned the hard way not to touch, help or even look at Frank like he's even thinking about helping.
"You most certainly do," Jack murmurs behind him, close to his ear, so low that Frank hopefully doesn't hear. He even hooks his chin over Robby's shoulder as he rucks up the dress pants and closes the buttons and the fly – from behind Robby which is all kinds of hot to watch in the mirror.
On the bed, Frank seems to vaguely agree. "That's not a fair comparison, though."
Robby hears Jack trying to quietly hide his laughter. It's not working; there's air puffing loudly through Jack's nose.
The dress shirt is next. He lifts his arm just an inch higher to help with the sleeve and sucks in a breath – that hurt. He moved barely an inch and it hurt. Fuck all of this. Why him. Why this. A shoulder takes forever to heal, too, and it's inconvenient. Everything about this sucks.
Frank heard his hiss, too, or maybe he saw him wince in the mirror because he's been watching Robby like a hawk. "Jack, be careful!"
"I am," Jack protests. To Robby, he says, "Stop trying to help. I've got this." He fiddles with the sleeve of the dress shirt and carefully pulls it up Robby's arm. He's good now, keeping still.
On the bed, Frank complains again. "I don't even know why you can't just stay home if you're not even able to take off your jacket. Or take someone. What will you do if you need to pee?"
Robby catches Frank's eyes in the mirror. "You think I should take Jack to hold my dick?"
Frank winces at the imagery, but then he shrugs. "Well, it couldn't hurt? Don't your invitations usually let you bring a +1?"
"I'm not going to hold his dick, Frank," Jack says to cut off the path of that argument before it can go any further. He comes around to button Robby's shirt with his nimble fingers. He presses a kiss to Robby's chest – wet and sucking, as if he's trying to give him a hickey – before he buttons it up the rest of the way. There better not be a spit-wet patch on the shirt now. Robby looks down, but all he sees are Jack's silver curls.
"Well, what if he gets offered a glass of champagne and there's hors d'oeuvres? Should he switch his glass to his injured arm every time a waiter comes by with the little shrimp snacks?" Frank asks Jack now; like Robby's not even required to be there for these imaginary scenarios involving him.
Robby doesn't want to know where Frank comes up with these ideas. He watches him through the mirror – Frank is stretched out on the bed in his muted checkered pajama pants and his dark blue hoodie, hands shoved deep into the pockets. He's tipping his bare feet in an arbitrary rhythm. He's beautifully unconcerned and unaware that he's being watched. Robby cherishes seeing him like that, not moving around, not going at a hundred miles an hour.
A grunt escapes Jack. "He has a point. Someone should get you the little shrimp snacks."
"There are not going to be hors d'oeuvres," he counters. It's never good when Jack entertains Frank's fantasies. Or… at least, not when it doesn't involve sex.
In the mirror, Frank looks even more upset. "Then what's the point of going there? Tell me there's at least a chocolate fountain and fruit." His toe tips alternate as he comes up with a new scenario. "What if there's steak? You have to cut that."
Robby hums as Jack fiddles the belt through the belt loops of his dress pants. "I wouldn't let Jack cut up my food, Frank. I'll manage."
He watches Frank tilt his head back and stare at the wall behind the bed. For a moment, Robby is distracted by that expanse of throat and he wants to do all sorts of things to that pale, veiny offering of skin. But then Frank says, "This is a nightmare," and ruins whatever fantasy Robby's head was cooking up. He thinks he hears Jack huff out a laugh.
"For whom. For you?" Robby asks. "Because your brain is running through my evening like a… Plinko. I'm fine. I'm ready to go."
Frank, in the mirror, makes an adorable, offended face. He looks over at the two of them. "I'll get you something for the pain. I can't watch this." He sits up – and Robby absolutely does not say anything about that – and shuffles outside, towards the kitchen.
"He loves you," Jack murmurs as he slowly helps Robby into his suit jacket, adjusting the sleeve every couple of inches so Robby doesn't have to lift his shoulder again. "That's what this is. Running through every scenario in which you could get hurt. Nothing that you don't do when he's at work on a shit day. You're as bad as each other."
"I know." He sighs. "I know, alright?"
"I know you do." Jack leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Two worrying peas in a pod."
Robby rolls his eyes up.
Together, they put the sling back on and fix it to his torso with the Velcro strap. Jack pats him down with sure hands and adjusts everything so nothing pinches the fabric.
"You're the best," Robby says and looks at himself in the mirror, or at least, what he can see that's not hidden by Jack's figure. "You could come with, you know?" he offers. He remembers the last dinner like this that they went to and the delicious things they did in the bedroom afterwards. He thinks that might even be the same tie as last time.
Jack carefully pats the lapels of his suit, pressing his hands against Robby's chest. "Hon, you don't even have your own invitation. You're Gloria's +1." Then he takes a step back and another and puts his hands on his hips. "Mmmhm," he hums, satisfied. Then he steps aside and lets Robby look at himself in the mirror.
"Looking good."
"Awful, as always," Robby says. "I hate these dinners."
"But you look so good all dressed up." Amusement dances in Jack's eyes.
Frank returns with a glass of water and a blister pack – and his car keys. "I'll drive you," he offers.
"Barefoot?" Robby can't help but ask.
"In Crocs." Frank holds up the blister. "Suzetrigine okay? I also have ibuprofen if you'd rather swim in the kiddie pool." He looks like he's sorry for both the joke and the fact that he's offering his Journavx; or rather, that he has to offer it in the first place, because that means Robby is hurting.
Jack graciously leaves them to navigate that intimate moment on their own while he busies himself with the clothes he peeled Robby out of before his shower.
"Thank you," Robby says as he lets Frank pop two tablets into his hand. "You're the best."
He can hear Jack's quiet laughter again and he knows it's because he said the same thing to Jack just minutes earlier. They're both his best, how about that.
"You're driving me so you can make sure I get inside okay?" he asks and tilts his chin at the car keys.
Frank groans. "Maybe. Come on. Do me this one favor, just let me…"
"Alright. But I'd like to go on record that I-"
"I know," Frank interrupts. "You don't fuss. How about I let you fuss just once if you let me drive you."
"Deal." He'd like to do this via handshake, but he can't, so he seals it with a fast, hard smack to Frank's lips. "Deal, you hear me?"
"I do. We should go now if we don't want to keep Gloria waiting. Jack took way too long dressing you up."
Jack protests minimally, but shoos them both out towards the front hall. Frank leads the way and bends down for the dress shoes to help Robby put them on. Robby watches as Frank diligently double-knots the laces.
"Don't you want to make three knots just in case?" Jack teases from where he's watching in the doorway.
"Shut up. What if the laces get undone and he-"
Robby shushes this new scenario with a hand in Frank's hair. Kneeling as he is, Frank stills abruptly, one hand on the floor, the other one Robby's shoe – frozen with the command and the hand in his hair and his position.
Jack rumbles in a low voice, "Ooh, I think I like where this fantasy is going."