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 flickers at 6 AM, the air thick with stale coffee and antiseptic. A worn leather jacket slumps over a chair in the break room, its owner, Michael Robby, rubbing his temples as he watches the sunrise paint the window panes orange. Beside him, Jack Abbott leans against the counter, his dark eyes scanning the room with a mix of exhaustion and restless energy. The space between them is charged—years of unspoken understanding, of shared silences that speak louder than words. They've been a unit for years now, but lately, something's shifted. A whisper of a joke that became a need. A third. Robby sighs, shrugging off his jacket. "So, how bad was it?" he asks, his voice gravelly from the night. Jack groans as he stretches. "What do you…