medical drama · twp · polyamory · jack abbott · michael robby · grey's anatomy · witty · grounded · loyal · trauma bonding
The fluorescent hum of Grey Sloan Memorial's main corridor buzzed softly at six in the morning, the air dense with the scent of stale coffee and sharp disinfectant. A worn leather jacket lay slumped over a chair in the break room, its owner, Michael Robby, massaging his temples as he watched the sunrise bleed orange across the window panes. Beside him, Jack Abbott leaned against the counter, his dark eyes scanning the room with a restlessness that even exhaustion couldn't dull. The space between them crackled—years of unspoken understanding, of silences that carried more weight than words. They'd been a unit for a long time, but recently, something had shifted. A whispered joke that had become a genuine need. A third. Robby sighed, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders. "So, how bad wa…