Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

After the Pittfest shooting, Dennis resigned himself to never specializing in emergency medicine if it was the last thing he did. Peds had been fine enough, he concluded. Cardiology wasn’t half bad either. Plastics if he wanted to die alone in a bed of money, he supposed.

He kept that decision in the back of his mind, promising that no matter what happened in the next weeks of his last rotation, he would not break.

And he went into his next day believing just that.

It started slow— stayed slow for so long it was eerie, the team working through chairs more than anything else. Dennis for once found himself bored in a trauma one medical center, and he had the thought that this must be a sign. The ER in some happy agreement over his future absence.

Though he hadn’t even spoken the thought aloud, a multi-car pile up came ramming through the doors right after. Dennis subconsciously apologized to every patient that came through after that.

It was pretty bad, ranging from simple lacerations to a woman being sent up to OR with a likely above knee amputation. The worst, however, came in the form of a mother and her child.

The mother was dead on arrival, and her son didn’t look much better. Dr. Robby, for some godforsaken reason, had taken one look at the case and called his name out like this was something he could do, could handle. And Dennis couldn’t think of a single reason why him, as he crawled halfway atop the moving gurney to take over compressions for the EMT.

“Deeper compressions, Whitaker. He may be a kid but he’s not glass.” Dennis complies and faintly wonders if that’s something Dr. Robby thinks about him. Like Dennis is some kind of kid he can push because he knows he can take it.

Mentally grumbling with that thought, he lets it occupy his mind if only to ignore the stats being yelled out around him. It doesn’t sound good, to say the least.

Though, miraculously, after three more rounds of epi and four more shocks, they find a rhythm. Dennis is sweating by the time he stops compressions, but he doesn’t lift his hands yet. He waits until he feels that steady, soft heartbeat beneath his hands.

A larger, warmer hand clamps down on his shoulder, and Dennis startles. Dr. Robby has a satisfied smile on his face and Dennis realizes he has one too. The nurses flurry around them, handing Mel— when had she gotten here?— equipment for intubation. A simple “Great job Whitaker, I knew you could do it,” is all Dr. Robby says before offering another squeeze of his shoulder, and moving to assist Mel.

Dennis, in a haze, pulls away from the gurney and his space is filled quickly with chattering doctors naming possible next steps of care, but Dennis can hardly hear them. It was as if those three shots of epinephrine had gone to him instead, and he feels on top of the world. God, he prays, will not punish him too harshly for relishing in this self-serving adrenaline spike.

Without realizing, he snaps his eyes up to Dr. Robby, finding the man already looking at him. His stethoscope is lopsided as it lays on his quickly rising and falling chest. His eyes are stark and searching, almost blown out, like he’s feeling exactly what Dennis is, and can see right through him equally. And for whatever reason, Dennis runs from it.

More so, he mumbles an excuse about charting and leaves the room.

He snaps the gloves off his hands and tosses them without a second thought. He hates how much of this place has become second nature. How in only two days, the relentless crashing and pulling of the waves called the ER have become the very thrum beneath his skin.

Dennis crashes down on a free chair in central with a sigh, the adrenaline clearly waning off given his shaking hands and deep sense of guilt, or perhaps foolishness, that washes over him.

The telling squeaking of a chair rumbling closer to him is all the signal he gets before Trinity parks right next his little desk. “Saw you went in with that kid, he alright?” Are you? Is the unspoken part of her question.

Dennis drops his head into his hands, but eventually peaks from behind his fingers. “I saved his life- no, well we all did. Anyways, he’s fine. Or he should be. I think.”

“You think?” Trinity judges. “Did you leave before they-“

“Whitaker!” Dr. Robby’s voice rings out clear even over the bustling noise that comes with an ER.

Dennis shoots up out of his chair on reflex— when had Robby’s voice become a reflex?

He stays stone still as the aforementioned stalks up to him. Trinity had made herself sparse before the first syllable of his name had been out.

Dr. Robby rounds the table and stands close, probably to keep his disciplinary private, Dennis reasons. “I understand that that was a hard case, the near-death of a child is always hard, especially-“

“So he’s alive-“

“I’m not finished.” Dr. Robby raises a hand as if to stop him. He lets that hand fall onto Dennis’ arm, hard and familiar. “Especially after the drowning victim from yesterday.” That shuts him up pretty quick. “But I put you on that case because I knew you could make a big difference there, and you did.” Dennis swears his feels Dr. Robby’s thumb rub a tight, reassuring circle across his acromion before falling back to his side. Dennis can only nod.

Dr. Robby clears his throat and takes a half-step back, eyes already up and scanning the boards nearby. “Just this once I’ll let you off the hook for leaving early, stick you with one of our head lacs from the pile up in South 2. Easy one, seemed like a nice girl, not likely to give you any trouble.”

He moves to leave quickly after that, but Dennis stops him first. “Dr. Robby-“ The man turns. “I’m sorry. For leaving. I don’t really know why I did.”

Dr. Robby gives him a grin, as if he knows exactly why. If he does, he doesn’t say it, just turns and heads off to one of the next hundred patients that could very well die without him.

That feeling, that all these people could die without your intervention, is one Dennis can’t quite grapple with yet. He doesn’t know how Robby handles the pressure.

The head lac girl was indeed quite nice. She was car number four or five, an old car that couldn’t really stop fast enough to miss rear ending another car, but she luckily wasn’t part of the initial collision. It’s relatively surface level and Mohan is probably one of the best Doctors he’s shadowed so far. She keeps the girl busy and calm, getting her evaluated as Dennis works a few sutures into her hairline. And best part is, Dr. Mohan always gives him a nice high five or a nerdy fist bump after easy wins like that. It makes Dennis feel like a kid getting a lollipop after the dentist, unnecessary but feels nice.

After that, he dutifully avoids Dr. Robby if possible. It’s not like the man had anything to do with that post-life-saving adrenaline rush that made him feel like a catholic saint, but he felt better covering all this bases. Because once that mock-sainthood wore off, Dennis felt like an asshole reaping the benefits of a sick person in need of help.

Over the next several days, keeping to charting and easy chairs patients helped, given how little of them truly needed a life saving miracle. But he couldn’t exactly avoid the beck and call of his Chief of Emergency Medicine for long. He hates to compare that call to something vaguely christ-like, but he’d be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind— like he hadn’t tried to shoo it away.

Though Dr. Robby had called on him for several more cases throughout the week, Dennis pretended not to notice that the man hedged him onto easier, high probability cases.

That sense of dutiful grace did not carry onto the next week. It started with an old man from the nursing home, appearing near DOA but given the clear lack of DNR in his chart, they did everything to bring him back. It was shocking, honestly, even to Dr. Robby when he came to. The man had cried and gripped hard onto Dennis, moaning wetly into his scrubs that he “hadn’t gotten the chance to call his daughter that week.”

When the daughter later showed up, she matched her father’s grip strength in the warmest hug Dennis had gotten in a while. Juxtaposed, she gave him the softest “thank you” he’d ever heard.

When Dr. Robby had finished his rounds and found him doing charts a tad slower than usual, Dennis wouldn’t admit to how comforting that hand being back on him was. That grounding look in his eyes.

The next time Dr. Robby pulled him onto some life saving case, the patient actually died. Dennis didn’t know why the finality of his voice, “Stop compression,” surprised him so much. He hadn’t realized how much of a runners high he’d been on since that little boy until now.

Sweating again from the work of CPR, he just felt dirty. It was another geriatric patient without a DNR but a later revealed potassium level that was beyond saving. In theory, Dennis understands there was nothing he could’ve done, and yet he’d hoped otherwise. Worse, he guiltily wished he could’ve saved her if only to avoid feeling like this; to feel like that again.

Dennis finds himself on the rooftop after the shift. He’d heard people went up here after a rough day. And after that older woman, then came a pair of overdoses, a headache turned brain cancer, and a teenager who would be blind for the rest of his life because of one bad hit in a practice football game. In that moment, he couldn’t remember a single person he saved that day.

It’s Dr. Robby who catches him up there. Catches, because Dennis freezes up like a kid caught smoking behind the church— and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Smoking.

Dennis snuffs it out against the railing as quick as he can, but not fast enough it seems. Dr. Robby approaches him with a low, disapproving whistle. “And I’d thought you were smarter than that, Whitaker.” Dennis peers up at him as the man saddles up beside him, leaning his back against the railing. Dr. Robby is wearing a shit eating grin, clearly teasing.

Dennis chokes out a laugh, releasing all the pressure from his shoulders, and runs his hands through his hair. Only a few weeks since he’d gotten here but his hair feels impossibly longer. Maybe he should listen to Trinity and let her cut him a mullet.

“Sorry sir- Dr. Robby-“ Dennis awkwardly breaks off. “Not really sure what to call you off the clock.” He realizes he’s never actually seen the man outside of the ER until now. They’re technically still standing on it, but with the starry black backdrop between them, it feels infinitely different.

Dr. Robby takes it in stride, chuckling softly into the colder night air. Was it getting colder already? Dennis could barely feel the time passing. “Just Robby is fine.” Dennis nods, but doesn’t test the new name on his tongue. Still feels a bit wrong. “Trinity was looking for you.”

“Oh shit!” Dennis scrambles immediately, wrestling with his jacket sleeve to check his watch beneath it. Robby’s hand reaches out and lays over the watch face before he can see it.

“It’s fine. She wanted me to tell you she left already. Oh, and that your left over Chinese is now hers.” Dennis properly groans now, his face in his hands and his elbows on the railing, Robby laughs besides him. He doesn’t see it, but he feels Robby place a hand on his arm and jostle him lightly. “You wanted the Chinese food that badly?”

Dennis turns his head, noting that Robby has fully turned his body to face him now, hip now bearing his weight against the metal. Dennis tries not to linger on the sight.

He shakes his head, “No. Well, I guess so. Just, today was harder than usual is all.”

Robby nods, understanding in a way very few in this world possibly could. “Yeah, I’d hoped for a few more wins for you today to say the least.” They both drearily laugh at that.

Dennis pauses. “Have you been putting me with risky patients?”

Robby pulls his hand back to scratch his beard. Dennis really tries not to look too hard at that either. “Not necessarily.”

“I knew it!” Dennis’ spine shoots straight up, pointing an accusatory finger at the man, to which Robby raises his hands in mock surrender. “I knew I was on some weird win streak since after Pittfest. Well, not win streak- whatever you know what I mean.” He muttered and crumpled back against the railing as if it were weight burying his psyche as well.

Robby shrugged in defeat, albeit a tad guiltily. “After Pittfest, you looked defeated. Or resigned. Like in just one day, you had decided your entire career would have nothing to do with emergency medicine.” Had Dennis been that easy to read? Or was Robby the only one looking. Robby shrugged again. “I couldn’t dare see such a bright doctor slip past us so easily without putting up a fight.” Dennis fights a small, private smile at that. “Plus, after that first save with the kid, I knew.”

Dennis snapped his eyes back to Robby at that. That feeling he couldn’t name, the one he was certain Robby had felt too. “What was that?” He asks quietly, scared he’d be shot down, judged for that inescapable rush he’d felt.

Robby pauses, stares into the black of the sky as if it held the answer there, and he need only retrieve it. Then, he huffs a sardonic laugh. “Narcissism, maybe? The god-complex built into our brains that force each and every one of us to pursue medicine whether we understand it, even agree with it or not?” Dennis hates how much those words describe it. Hates that that’s something he has been unknowingly chasing. “I try not to, use those words, exactly. Tends to scare off our sweet new med students.” Robby crashes his shoulder into his, like a jab and a way of lightening the mood. It sort of works. “We don’t have to- I can stop purposefully putting you on those cases, if that’s what you want. I can’t guarantee anything, but it could help you finish out your rotation easier, get out of here faster. If nothing else, it’s a bad coping mechanism, trust me.” The look they’d shared. Robby knows it, that adrenaline. Maybe craves it too.

Dennis chews the corner of his thumb for a moment, seeks the sky in a similar fashion to his boss beside him. “Yeah. I mean- no. You can keep, putting me on whatever cases you think is good for me. As a doctor.”

“As a doctor.” Robby agrees, smiling, approving in a way that makes Dennis feel like this is all worth it. Whatever that is. Robby’s hand is ruffling his hair before Dennis can process what’s happening. “I knew I saw the ER in you. Don’t write it off so quickly yet. Even after a day like this.” The hand lifts, but returns back to the junction of his neck and shoulder, his thumb pressing down into his scapulae. It’s steadying, yet it makes Dennis feel weak in a way that has him gripping the cold metal harder under his hands. Robby’s eyes flicker there, then back to his face, always noticing. “Come find me next time this job tries to beat you out of staying. Maybe we can find an alternative to those cigarettes for you.”

Dennis flushes with embarrassment at the reminder, but Robby is smiling the whole time. They finally break contact as Robby tucks his hands back in his pockets. Dennis slings his bag back over his shoulder and moves to leave. “Of course, Robby- sir. I don’t know, it feels weird to say it.” That pulls a proper laugh out of the man. Dennis watches it for tad too long.

“Get outta here, Whitaker. Your Chinese food might still be there when you get back, I tried to convince her to leave it alone. Let me know if she actually listens like some of my other students.” Robby gives him a teasing, but pointed look.

Dennis is practically rushing to the door now. Half at the reignited possibility of Chinese food and half from the intensity that is the orbit of Dr. Robby. He just nods profusely. “Got it! Got it. No cigarettes, stay here, yada yada. Bye Dr. Robby! Thanks for saving my food!” He calls out as he finally runs past the door and down the stairs.

Dennis doesn’t see how Robby chuckles to himself after. Or how he lights a cigarette in his absences, and smokes the thing down to the filter.

Dennis hates to admit Robby was right, but God he could not imagine specializing in anything other than this. Two more weeks go by in the Pitt after his and Robby’s rooftop talk, or agreement, whatever that was, and the difference is stark. He’s constantly hopping on riskier and riskier patients. He hates to reduce them to that— like some sort of gambling statistic, but deep down, it’s something he’s aware of. Something he would lie his ass off about if confronted. That’s not to say he’s non-compassionate, or suddenly a bad doctor to his patients. If anything, his ratings have only improved as time has gone by. He’s more confident, smoother in transition times, quicker charting. Whatever, either way, he’s a great doctor. A great doctor that just so happens to enjoy the rush of pushing life back into a patient through meticulous, and miraculous measures.

And it just so happens that so does Robby.

At first, Dennis thought it coincidental that with every new patient he saved or coded, Robby was there. A firm presence behind him, beside him, everywhere, flooding his senses as he rode the high of feeling life beneath his palms. And every time, their eyes would lock. Once the worst was over and they were given a moment to breathe, they stared. Stared at the way they both seemed to glow afterwards. Robby always had his hair mussed, pulling at the collar of his scrubs, hands flexing through the latex.

Dennis had known he was gay since he was young enough to know better. He learned to keep his eyes down in locker rooms and change in the bathroom of his dorm during college. Not because he felt any which way about the men around him, but he never wanted to make them uncomfortable. To give them a reason to sneer, or claim he was something he wasn’t.

So at first, perhaps reflexively, Dennis felt guilty for sparing a glance at Robby in those afterglow-like moments. Dirty, like he was tarnishing the moment. He quickly came to understand that Robby had no such qualms.

Dennis tried his best not to read into it. How they gravitated towards each other afterwards, infinitesimally. He reasoned that Robby was just a great boss, the all-knowing kind that knew exactly how to make him better; knew just what to say and do to improve Dennis as a doctor. The kind that could recognize the signs of the inappropriate crush his star med student was beginning to have on him. Maybe Robby knew all this, and was simply throwing him a bone.

Or, worse, maybe Robby was completely, and equally helpless to the narcissistic complexes that flushed through them, just as Dennis was. To the rush that felt like you missed that last step on your way down the stairs. That immediate fear— then the sheer pleasure that you didn’t die once your feet hit solid ground. Dennis had become addicted to it.

And after the first couple patients, Dennis stopped trying to stray his gaze away from Robby. Because he realized that Robby *liked* it. Dennis had seen the smallest hitch of his breath the first time he hadn’t looked away. Like he was relishing in it, in some perverse, maddening way that had Dennis running away again like the first time.

The second time, he didn’t run. Or the one after.

It reached the point of no return another week after that revelation, now over a month since Pittfest. A month since he’d first saved that kids life and felt like he’d brushed against the sun. Since then, he’d do anything to burn.

With only an hour left of the day shift, the ER did not let up. Patient after patient came like a flood. The halls were nearly filled with beds and upstairs had given no indication on when they’d finally start admitting them. If not only for that, the sheer sound increase of that many people coughing and crying had everyone on edge.

Dennis had a pounding headache deep behind his eyelids for the past three hours and no amount of pinching and prodding at his brow bone seemed to help. Shocker.

Night shift nurses were slowly filing in and completing their hand offs, and the sight of Dr. Shen— who was always early so he could finish his drink in time— brought a smile on his face as it meant his time was almost up.

The familiar sound of a gurney being wheeled in by the EMTs didn’t faze him much, but with the even more familiar sound of Robby calling his name out brought Dennis up and to the bedside in seconds.

A man in his 30’s side swiped while on a motorcycle. The helmet had saved his life but his arm was obviously broken, his skin was torn up, and worst of all, an open pelvic fracture the EMT was trying to keep pressure on. The man was screaming, and to be fair, it looked terrible and twice as painful.

Robby had grabbed Trinity in at some point as well and was quizzing her on what the proper next steps were; what antibiotics to prescribe and what drug would be best to knock the screaming man out. In nicer terms, of course. Dennis had taken over keeping pressure on the man’s open saddle wound, but whatever answers she’d given worked wonders, and before he knew it, the man was out.

Then his stats dropped. His fractured pelvis was hemorrhaging, badly.

“Ever done a REBOA, Whitaker?” Robby asked, already working with the nurses in preparing it.

Dennis sputtered. “What? No- no sir. I saw Collin’s do one?”

Robby appeared unfazed by his answer, only nodding. “Maintain compression until I say so. Not a second earlier.” Dennis could only nod. He could feel the man’s heart beat beneath his hands, bursting more blood into the gauze with every pump. Robby found his spot next to him, equipment ready, and Dennis watched his every move, awaiting instruction. Robby placed his hands over his and motioned for Dennis to pull away. God, he shouldn’t be thinking about how warm his hands are in a moment like this.

A nurse he didn’t recognize, likely night shift, handed him the REBOA, no cut needed in a wound like this. The man’s femoral was practically open in this hands.

Robby spoke firm and slow, guiding Whitaker through every step, right there to take over at a seconds notice. That gave Whitaker a little more faith, but the blood was all over his arms at this point, Robby’s too. The flexible catheter was familiar enough to give him confidence as he guided it up through the artery and into the aorta. “Stop, there you go. Right there. Inflate the balloon- exactly.” The blood stopped gushing into the gauze, and Robby pulled it away to better inspect the work. He had a smile on his face, and the stats were already looking better, though not by much. It was a temporary fix. “Great work, Whitaker.”

And there it was. In those fleeting moments after truly saving another persons life, standing so close their arms brushed, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. Dennis drank in as much as he could, the smile on Robby’s face from the blood splattering his arms. God he couldn’t get enough. And if the flickering of Robby’s eyes was any indication, Dennis could almost believe that neither could he.

And then Dr. Walsh came crashing in with her gaggle of surgeons and nurses behind her. They broke apart like nothing happened.

“Dr. Robby, a REBOA to start my shift, seriously?” They were already halfway through preparing the gurney to be wheeled away.

Robby shrugged with a shit eating grin. “Not my problem, I’m going home.”

“Not like that you aren’t.” Walsh gave a pointed look at his arms before following the bed out of the bay and up to surgery.

Robby looked down at the blood on his scrubs and, evidently, on his arms, and sighed. Dennis snickered and Robby shot him a look. “Oh yeah? You didn’t fare much better.” Dennis shut up at that, biting a grin beneath his teeth. “C’mon, I’ll bet you’re familiar with the showers already given how your first day went.”

Robby left with that, and Dennis went to follow, before a hard grip pulled him back. Trinity. He’d completely forgotten she was here. “What the fuck was that?” She whispered, nurses still filing out of the room and janitorial moving in to clean up. Trinity dragged him by the elbow out of the bay and towards the lockers.

Dennis laughed. “What? You don’t remember my first day? All my scrubs-“

“Not that you Huckleberry.” She groaned, stopping them at his locker. They were alone now, but she kept quiet. “All that weird shit with you and Robby, I don’t even know what to call it.”

Dennis feigned ignorance, which was easy to do when he’d been denying any such ‘weirdness’ between him and Robby for the past several weeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trinity glared. “I don’t! He’s been really helping me out recently, I wanted to leave the program so he’s been, looking out for me. I don’t know.”

He must’ve sold a half-alright performance because Trinity just sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “Yeah I remember, fine. Whatever, just looked weird to me. I don’t know.” She was so concerned for him it made Dennis feels bad for lying. But was he really? If he really thinks about it, truly nothing was going on. Maybe he thought his boss was kinda hot and they bonded over enjoying saving lives in a pretty narcissistic way, that’s it! Honest.

“Thanks, though. For looking out for me.” Dennis had his bag over his shoulders, spare clothes— he’d learned his lesson about fluids in the ER— packed inside.

Trinity shrugged and was already backing away to finish her charting for the day. She was always behind. “Whatever, forget about it.”

Dennis smiled. “Consider is forgotten.” Trinity’s face twitched like she was fighting a smile at that.

“See you at home, Huckleberry. Have a nice shower!”

Dennis rolled his eyes at her teasing but smiled the whole time as he made his way to the showers.

Since his first day, Dennis really tried to avoid the showers again. They were nice enough, locker room style with a row of shower stalls along one wall, tall walls for each one and curtains for privacy. He just avoided them because he hated the possibility of running into a coworker— remembering his time of keeping his eyes to the ground throughout all of high school.

And though he knew Robby was maybe a few minutes ahead of him, he’d half expected him to be gone by now. He wasn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even undressed yet.

He wasn’t standing in front of one of the benches, his bag open and his phone in hand. He was in a long sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows and his scrub top was gone, but he was fully engrossed in his phone, like he’d gotten distracted.

Dennis cleared his throat as he approached, and Robby God honest jumped.

The man slapped a hand over his chest and laughed. “God, Whitaker. Don’t scare an old man like that.” Dennis laughed along too.

“Sorry, I thought you would’ve been be gone by now.” Dennis admits, dropping his bag on the same bench a safe five feet away. He distracted himself with looking through his bag for his items, taking off his scrub top too, a t-shirt on underneath that was luckily untouched from the blood. Throughout, he kept eyes down even though they were both fully dressed. This was why he hated locker rooms.

Robby, however, must’ve read it the wrong way. He felt Robby’s presence beside him before he heard him. “Are you alright?” He spoke softly, just like he had on the roof. Dennis finally looked at him. Still glowing from the teetering adrenaline with his hair ruffled and the Star of David dangling against his chest. Does he wear that everyday? “I know that was a pretty crazy case, but I wouldn’t have put you on it if I hadn’t know you were ready-“

Dennis will return to church on Sunday for the first time in six years to apologize for his actions in that moment. He’ll say he was out of control of his body, swept to the current of epinephrine he’d grown to hunger, because he’d lingered a second too long staring at Robby, and then he’d surged forwards, pressing his lips against his. Dennis nearly lets out a groan just from the initial contact, relief drowning him.

Then suffocating him as he realizes what he’d just done.

Dennis pulls back quick like he’d been burned— the burn he was chasing. That feeling of brushing against the sun. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry Dr. Robby, I don’t know what-“

Then their lips are connected again. And God did it burn. Robby pushes a heavy hand to the back of his head, tangled and gripping his hair, pulling him forward with it. Dennis really does groan this time, wrapping his hands around his neck, gripping the muscles of his upper back like he would drift away if he didn’t hold on tight.

Robby snakes his free arm around Dennis’ waist and suddenly they were moving. His back hits the locker with slam and he hisses as the lock digs into his back. Robby pulls away, only a few inches as if that was as much as he could bear. “Fuck- sorry, are you alright?” Dennis feels drunk on how good Robby sounds; the husk of his voice dripping in concern and want.

Dennis can’t find the words to respond, only nodding frantically and pulling him back onto him. He kisses away the smile on Robby’s face.

Robby squeezes his waist and Dennis gasps, which only seemed to be his intention as Robby takes full advantage, deepening the kiss hard enough to tap Dennis’ head on the locker. Without realizing, Dennis rocks his hips forwards. Robby swallows the sound of his moan, but doesn’t tell him to stop. In fact, the hand on his waist drops to his hip and tightens, rocking Dennis forward again with his grip.

Dennis breaks the kiss, his head falling back with another moan, bitten out like he’d been trying to keep it down. Robby is everywhere, smothering him against the lockers like he could devour him. His mouth now on his neck, sucking at his carotid like he could tap it open and peer into the very essence of his being. His knee moves in between Dennis’ and pushed them apart, grinding his thigh forward once, right where he needs it most.

Dennis has to fully hold onto Robby’s shoulders now as he’s barely strong enough to hold himself up, fully grinding his hips down, back and forth against his boss’s scrubs. When Robby pushes up into him, Dennis chokes on a whimper that had him slapping a hand over his own mouth.

Robby pulls back and stares down at the picture that was Dennis; weak and whimpering while getting off on his leg. That look once reserved only for post-life-saving now graced him, darker, but just as unhinged. “Look at you, Dennis.” Hearing his first name rolling off Robby’s tongue brought on another hand-smothered whimper— another deep grind of his hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so hard, so desperate to get off. “So good for me, you deserve this after all you did for me today.” For him. Dennis doesn’t realize he’s nodding in agreement.

Robby drops down close again, mouth at his ear and both hands on Dennis’ hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. He hopes he does. Like a sun burn scorched into his skin. Robby works with him, helping him rut against his thigh. “You saved a man’s life today, didn’t you.” A statement. Dennis nods again, barely enough blood in his brain to form thoughts at this point. “Say it.”

“I- fuck. I saved someone’s life today.” Dennis chokes out, hand still muffling him. Robby pulls it away, replacing it with his mouth.

“Good boy.”

The words are muttered against his lips but Dennis can barely hear them from how hard he comes. His legs are shaking and Robby grinds him through it, kissing and swallowing every noise that Dennis pitches in his floating state of ecstasy. He just came in his pants like a teenager and it’s probably still the best he’s had in months, which isn’t saying much but God does he feel it.

As he finally starts to touch ground again, Robby is still kissing at his neck, albeit more chaste this time, but no less starved. Dennis can still feel him hard against him.

Dennis reaches a hand down between them and cups the front of Robby’s scrubs. The man’s head drops to his shoulder at the touch, a low grown passing his lips. A large hand wraps around Dennis’ wrist, stopping him.

Robby pulls his head back and looks at him, the most serious he’d seen him this whole time. “You don’t have to.”

Dennis almost laughs in his face. “I know that.” And he pushes his palm back down. With Robby right in front of him, he gets to see it this time— gets to watch him bite his lip and fight the noise that tries to slip out.

Dennis wraps one of the scrub laces around his finger. A silent question, one he voices anyways, “Can I?” Robby looks to fight some internal battle on the matter. Maybe that Dennis is his student, that they’re still at the hospital, or maybe that he’s 30 years older than him; pick your poison, he supposes. The greater, harder counter-argument clearly wins out, as he secedes with a nod of his head.

Dennis tries not to relish in the power he feels once he’s pushed his hand properly down his boss’s pants, but it’s hard not to. The way Robby’s breath shudders as he wraps his hand around him— and how with just a squeeze, Robby braces his hand loudly against the locker next to Dennis’ head for support. They’re almost nose to nose at this point, both staring down at how, even with Dennis’ strong, farm working hand, it doesn’t cover him entirely. “Jesus Christ, Robby, what the fuck?” Robby shivers out a laugh, and Dennis strokes right as he does, breaking his laugh with a moan.

Robby is probably the biggest Dennis has been with up until this point of his life. Not comically so, but enough that he’s almost struggling to remember how to jerk him off— or maybe that’s just the way that Robby’s breath is fanning against his face that’s distracting him so much. Definitely both. They find a good rhythm eventually, Dennis having to spit in his hand first, which rewarded him with his favorite sound of Robby’s yet.

Soon, Dennis has Robby rocking into his hand, thrusting up to meet his hand halfway with every down stroke. He squeezes on the way up and twists his hand slightly on the way down; he must be doing something right with the way Robby near falls forward, mouth latching back onto his.

Dennis feels his dick twitch again from the sounds he drinks up from Robby. He’s more subdued than he was, like he’s restraining himself in a way that’s intoxicating. It makes Dennis want to work harder, and he does. The sound of his fist is slick and quickening, filling their little bubble in the locker room. Had either of them locked the door?

Dennis knows he’s close from the way his hips start to lose rhythm, just sporadically chasing his release into the fist he’s offered. God, Dennis almost doesn’t want it to end. He wants to drag it out, hear his boss whine when he pulls away just before he can finish. Watch himself rut into his hand over and over, more frantic each time as he tries to chase that high again. But he doesn’t, because they’re still at work, for one. And, because the thought of pulling away now, with Robby’s eyebrows pinched together and his mouth slightly agape and panting, he wants to see Robby burn too.

And he does. The warm evidence covers his hand and he inadvertently uses it to further slick up his palm while he strokes Robby through it. The way they aren’t even kissing anymore, just breathing heavy into each other’s mouths, Robby’s small noises peaking through as he finishes is enough to get him addicted. Dennis is almost harder now than he was earlier.

Dennis pulls away once Robby starts to hiss at the over stimulation. He tucks him back in and wipes his soiled hand on Robby’s scrub pants. They both chuckle tiredly. “They’ve seen worse.” Robby’s voice is hoarse and gravely, deeper than before— and him making a joke about his pants shouldn’t be so hot right now.

Robby pulls away first, just half a step, his hand still on Dennis’ arm at least. Dennis hates to admit that is pretty awkward. He’d jumped his superior without a second thought, and not expecting it to end the way it has, he’s entirely ill prepared for the aftermath.

Robby appears equally off kilter, but he recovers better, clearing his throat and dropping his hand, finally breaking contact between him. Dennis feels awfully cold, like an astronaut floating in space, as far from the sun now as Pluto.

Maybe Robby sees that, because he places his hand back to Dennis’ face, and tilts him upwards to face him. There’s a soft look there, unguarded in a way Dennis hasn’t seen since his breakdown during Pittfest. He leans down and places a chaste kiss against his lips. Dennis guiltily relishes in it for too long. When they pull away, it’s only millimeters. “You can take the shower, I’ll head out first.” It’s unsaid how they can’t exactly leave at the same time, given how much earlier Robby got here. So Dennis just nods, no matter if he’s a bit disappointed. He’s not sure what else he expected.

Equally unsaid, Dennis thinks once he’s finally standing beneath the cold spray of the shower, is that they can never speak of this again.

Chapter Text

Dennis ends up staying at PTMC— and he swears to himself that it’s not due to his new development of intermittently sleeping with the Chief of Emergency Medicine. At least not entirely. He’d discovered a real passion for the fast paced ER lifestyle, so much so that when he submitted his applications for residencies after graduation, he listed five different trauma centers along the East coast.

But, of course, he was in fact sleeping with the Chief of Emergency Medicine.

After their incident in the locker room, Dennis felt simultaneously on edge yet subdued. Knowing that come tomorrow, Robby would likely avoid him, or act like nothing happened dampened his mood greatly. But the more pressing matter was the idea of the hospital finding out what they’d done. It’s not like they’d been careful, they’d been borderline reckless. No borderline, actually, just being idiots, at work, in a public space, with no locked doors— they were practically begging to become the face of a problematic HR brochure.

During the commute to work the day after, Trinity had tried to shake him out of whatever “weird vibe” he had going on, but didn’t push. Dennis felt like a live wire, buzzing energy with no output. And when he walked into the Pitt, he half expected everyone to look at him, stare him down like he was dirty, like they knew what he’d done. But, surprisingly, no one gave a shit— not so much as a lingering glance. Had they really gone so unnoticed?

While it eased the pressure enough for Dennis to breathe half-properly, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Robby.

Dr. Robby, he mentally chastises.

It’s shameful, the way Dennis’ first thought is how good Robby looks. He wouldn’t necessarily accredit the man’s easy smile or loose shoulders to the fact that he’d jerked him off less than 24 hours ago, but he wouldn’t exactly dismiss the hypothesis either.

Whatever awkward tension that had lingered so heavily between them in the showers was miraculously gone now. They fell into their familiar rhythms easily. From an outsiders perspective, it must look like any other day. But Dennis noticed.

Robby was watching him.

Watches Dennis suture, watches him clamp, watches him walk between patients; everything. It’s making Dennis feel crazy, because everytime he turns to look, Robby’s already looked away. Is he imaging it? He can’t tell.

It’s two days of watching before Dennis breaks. He finds them alone in a room for once— albeit a patient between them who’s blasting music so loud their headphones are rattling— and Dennis seizes the opportunity.

“Do you need something, Dr. Robby?” He snaps. They’re treating two severe burn wounds, one on each leg. He could feel the way Robby was watching him, fleeting but there.

Robby’s hands freeze for a moment, then return to his administrations. Caught. “And to what are you referring to, Whitaker?” Needlessly formal, double caught. Dennis secretly loves how much he knows the man’s tells.

Dennis glances at the patient. They’re clearly submerged into their phone, head bobbing to a beat Dennis faintly recognizes, but doesn’t strain to catch. He looks at Robby. Unsurprisingly, he’s looking back. “This.” Dennis raises his eyebrows in regard to their eyes. “You. Staring at me.”

Robby looks back down at the wound, but a small grin is gracing his lips. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He cuts a piece of skin off and deposits it to the side. “And if I did,” Dennis sighs. “Is it wrong for a doctor to check up on his student? Keep a close eye on how they’re progressing?”

“Doesn’t have to be that close.” Dennis mumbles. Robby catches it.

It’s silent, only the soft sounds of snipping and the muffled medical symphony behind the closed door.

“Do you want me to stop?” Robby sounds so hesitant, so careful, Dennis focuses his eyes back to the man. Robby isn’t looking this time, but it’s like his whole body is listening.

It’s quiet again. Then,

“No.”

They don’t meet eyes again for the rest of the debridement, but Dennis feels the glances they steal.

Dennis can’t recall what in that conversation must have changed so much between them, but as if under some unspoken agreement, they met in the stairwell after shift.

They don’t share a word the whole walk to the rooftop, nor does Dennis comment at the brick Robby puts in front of the door as it slams shut behind them. Dennis just places his bag on the ground against the wall, and felt his back hit it too as Robby shoves him up against it.

After that, they devolve into some sort of equally symbiotic and pathologically unethical work place relationship. And even ‘relationship’ is liberally used. What they have consists more of risking their entire livelihoods and careers as doctors only to chase the highs of their egocentric obsessions with playing God.

Rutting against each other on rooftops, panting and whimpering onto his boss’s tongue. Minor stains on their clothes lead to handjobs in the showers, one of Robby’s hands wrapped tightly around the both of them— their clothes still on but the shower nearby turned on to dismiss suspicions, and to drown out the noises they groan into each others necks.

The worst so far being a storage closet while still on shift. They were both on lunch at least, is what Dennis tells himself to sleep at night. After an hour long of repeated coding with a man they were sure should’ve died ages ago, by some miracle gets sent up to the OR with an actual chance at survival. All it takes is one look across the room and they’re B-lining it out. More accurately, they normally walked out of the trauma bay, wrapped up their charting, and separately went on lunch. Then, while walking to the lockers, taking the back way through janitorial service to avoid the rush, his elbow is yanked and suddenly it’s dark.

Dennis barely makes out the outline of Robby’s tall, imposing frame before it’s on him. The smell of bleach and the broom handle digging into his back fills in the rest of the picture. Robby’s lips are latched onto his favorite part of Dennis’s neck, right below the collar line where no one can see it. He sucks on the faded hickey he’d left there last time. His hands trail up beneath his scrubs, untucks his shirt, and slips them underneath that too. Dennis would’ve never guessed the man would be so possessive, trying to devour him at every turn.

“You did so good, Whitaker.” Robby groans against his neck as Dennis’ hips buck from the praise, grinding against him with how closely pressed they are. “Your compressions were fantastic, baby. Two inches down,” Robby thumbs at his nipple and rolls his hips. “A hundred beats per minute.” Robby’s teeth scrape his earlobe and Dennis shudders. “Kept going for how long? Five, ten minutes?”

“Fourteen.” Dennis chokes out. He’s rewarded with a hand untying his scrub pants, then pushing itself past the waistband.

“Fourteen minutes. And look how it worked. Don’t you realize?” Robby is properly jerking him off now, quick and dirty, yet highly rewarding. Dennis is biting his lip so hard, the taste of copper seeps onto his tongue. Robby leans right into his ear and whispers, “He’s alive because of you.”

Dennis has to bite down, hard on Robby’s neck to muffle the sound of him coming. His thighs shake and his abdominal muscles spasm like he’s under attack. He might as well be with how long Robby keeps going, Dennis having to slap at his chest for him to stop.

He sags back against the locked door. With his eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he can see just how fucked-out Robby looks. From the rush of a code to the miracle of returning life, and now his med student destroying his stately appearance, Dennis could jump him right here and now. He snakes his hands around his neck instead and pulls him close. When they meet, Robby licks the blood off Dennis’ lip. “Please let me suck you off.” Dennis whispers.

The muscle in Robby’s neck tremors, Dennis can feel it beneath his palm. Can feel him trying to restrain, just like every time. Maybe Robby thinks that if he at least attempts to fight himself off, then his eventual agreement won’t be so wrong.

Robby pulls his hand back and checks his watch. “Did you actually plan to eat anything for lunch?” Dennis shakes his head. Robby thinks for a moment, then places his hand on Dennis’ shoulder. “Me neither.” Then, he pushes him hard down to his knees.

The sight of Dennis on his knees, staring up at Robby so wantonly had the man scrambling at his belt. Dennis only wished he had more time. Time to lick and tease the man until he ached, begged for him to touch him properly. But they didn’t, so Dennis gave a nod and Robby took it, pushing his hand into his hair and his cock into his mouth. The weight of Robby on his tongue, heavy and impressive, makes Dennis feel drunk.

Dennis places his hands on the man’s hips, pulling him closer as he feels Robby’s hesitation. Dennis may look like some runaway farm boy, but he isn’t exactly celibate. He slacks his jaw and minds his teeth while Robby, finally, starts to rock back and forth into his mouth. Shallow at first, before groaning at the realization of Dennis’ lacking gag reflex and pushing deeper.

And God willing, Dennis works hard at everything he does, and this is so exception.

He tightens his lips around the tip as it passes, runs his tongue along the vein before it slips down his throat, hums moaning vibrations as it’s down there. Within minutes, whatever repose Robby had been so desperately holding onto was gone. Now, one hand in Dennis’ hair, his other gripped his jaw so tight, tears formed in his eyes. Robby was holding him steady as he fucked his mouth like it was made for him, trapping his head between the door and the never ending thrust of his hips.

“So perfect Dennis.” Robby’s voice is dripped in need, floating like he’s high. “You deserve this. You deserve a reward for how exceptional you’ve been. Helping so many people, helping me.” Dennis feels the tears fall now, the strain catching up to him but he doesn’t tell him to stop, he’s savoring it; Robby’s attention all over him in that warm, honey’d gaze. “You’ll be such a good doctor, Dennis. Right here, with me. Right where you’re supposed to be baby.” Dennis can barely nod against the sheer grip Robby still has on him, but that’s all the sign he needs before Robby is finishing down his throat.

Dennis feels the twitching against his tongue, feels him pump and squeeze in line with the heartbeat in Robby’s chest. Dennis can barely taste it with how far down his throat Robby was, and he only realizes just how far that is once he pulls out, the ache immediately setting in. Robby tucks himself back in as Dennis chokes on a coughing fit. Fuck he’d never taken someone so big, but he wasn’t about to say that aloud. Their egos didn’t need any more inflating.

Robby crouches down and rubs a comforting hand between his shoulder blades. “God, I’m so sorry Dennis. I didn’t realize you needed a break- or I could’ve stopped.”

Dennis shakes his head and the coughing subsides. He lays his head back against the door with a drunk smile. “You were perfect.” Dennis throws Robby’s words back at him, and he gloats at the shy look that graces his face.

Robby helps him up and lets him take a few moments to remember how to stand. Robby brushes a stray piece of hair behind Dennis’s ear; hair longer than ever. “Maybe you should head home.” Dennis startles and moves to protest. “Baby, you should see yourself right now. I wasn’t exactly-“ He tapers off.

“Gentle?” Dennis finishes. Just the memory of how rough he’d been makes his dick twitch. Maybe he should go home. Robby most certainly turns red, if only it were bright enough for him to see it. “I don’t want to leave you all hanging.” *You*.

Robby shakes his head, twirling that piece of hair between his fingers now. “We’re fine. Only four more hours. And honestly, even if we weren’t,” He gently prods at Dennis’ jaw. He winces. Dennis hadn’t even realized it ached. “I’m not sure we can make a good enough excuse for these tiny bruises that are about to show up within the hour.”

Dennis snickers at how remorse Robby sounds, like he’d really hurt him or something. Dennis kisses that furrowed place between his brows. That’s enough to shock Robby out of his spiraling, it seems. “Fine. I’ll go home, but under one condition.” Robby nods pliantly, already agreeing to anything Dennis asks of him. It feels powerful. “Next time we do this, maybe we go somewhere away from where we could both get fired?”

Robby chuckles and drags and stressed hand down his face, but secedes with one last kiss to his lips. It lingers. “Fine.” He grabs Dennis by the shoulders and spins him around, unlocking the door from behind him. “Now keep your head down, grab your shit, and look sick.” Robby speaks right into his ear, low and way too hot for the content of their conversation.

Dennis opens the door and peaks out. Nobody. He waves a tiny goodbye, awkward but sweet. Robby pats his butt playfully on his way out. He doesn’t get the chance to glare before the door swings shut. Robby will likely have to wait for a while until he can randomly appear back in rotation again.

Dennis does as he’s told and feigns the best sickness of his life. Given how he sees hundreds of sick people a day, he knows how to play it up.

Hunched over and clutching his abdomen, he waddles towards central and finds his target.

Dana sweeps over to him in record time and wears the classic concerned-mom-face, it makes him homesick. “Oh honey what happened to you? You were fine just earlier,” Dana places a gentle hand on his forehead. Given the… workout he’d just partaken in, he didn’t need to play up the warmness. “You’re burning up!”

Dennis nods weakly. “I don’t know what happened. I could barely make it to the bathroom before throwing my guts up.” Dana listens so sincerely, it makes him feel bad for lying. “Robby told me to come find you. I think he wants me to head home.”

“Robby was with you?” Fuck.

“Uh- yes. Yeah. He found me in the bathroom, throwing up and stuff.” He was losing his grip. “Helped me. I think he’s cleaning up now.”

Dana, by some miracle, seems to believe him. “Alright hon, no worries.” She pats him hard in the shoulder. “Go ‘head and get your things and get outta here. I don’t need you sicking up my ER, got enough of that ‘round here.”

Dennis is already backing up towards the lockers, eager to get out of here before any evidence of his and Robby’s tryst starts shedding light. “Thank you Dana. I’ll work twice as hard on Monday!”

Dana waves him off, but smiles, moving to grab the now ringing phone. “I’m sure you will kid.”

And he’s off.

He shovels his things out of the locker and wrangles his coat on as quickly as possible. Pittsburg had begun a mean winter if the progressively more common frostbite cases were any indication.

Dennis catches a glimpse of Robby on the way out, leaned forward against a desk at central, Dana talking his ear off. Probably about him. Robby, as if sensing him, glances around, then locks onto Dennis. Robby spares a secret twitch of a smile, before turning back to Dana.

Dennis holds onto that smile his whole trek home, grinning like a fool.

Trinity gets home in time to see the anxious Dennis that had been inhabiting the apartment since he’d gotten home. The normal spiraling thoughts of “someone must have heard us,” or “are we stupid? what if there’s cameras in the janitors closet,” were accompanied by the more pressing regret of what he’d said.

“Next time we do this, maybe we go somewhere away from where we could both get fired?” The memory had played like a broken record in his head for hours now. Who was he to insinuate the two of them were anything more than a hospital fuck? Or maybe just some twist workplace fantasy Robby got off on? Who were they if weren’t riding the high of saving a life? Would Robby even want him outside of that?

That and so much more is what has him groaning into his cereal bowl, and where Trinity finds him.

She throws her bag onto the nearby couch and side steps where Dennis is sat at the tiny half-island into their tinier kitchen. “God, when I’d heard you’d been sent home sick, I wasn’t expecting such a depressing sight.” She antagonizes him easily, but her sneaking glances tells Dennis she’s actually a little concerned.

Dennis just shrugs and shovels more soggy reese’s puffs into his mouth.

Trinity pulls out some leftovers, gives it a sniff check, then sticks them in the microwave. “Fine. Be sick and lame, you’ve got the whole weekend to recover. Now guess what stupid shit I said to Garcia today.” Garcia, the other inappropriate relationship between colleagues that was happening in this apartment. Though, compared to the completely unethical mess that was him and Robby, Trinity and her crush on Garcia was child’s play. They weren’t even in the same department.

Dennis lets Trinity talk his ear off about some normal interactions between the two of them, but she plays them up like she’d killed Garcia’s dog or something by asking for a scalpel. He hates to admit how much it’s helping. Maybe Trinity knew he needed a distraction.

By the end of the night, they’re sat in fluffy pajamas on Trinity’s second-hand pink couch watching reruns of Lost. Trinity is doing some sort of bracelet making that’s just making a mess and her pissed off. Probably some video she’d seen that recommended a new hobby that was ‘guaranteed to calm you down.’ So much for that working. “God fucking- Whitaker take this away from me or I’m going to break it.” Dennis laughs softly at her dramatics but agreed, moving to gather the weird box of supplies she had on the coffee table.

“Holy shit what is that?” Trinity pushes her face right up close to his. Dennis jumps back like he’d been burned.

“Nothing. What? What’s on my face?”

“Why’d you say nothing if you don’t even know what I’m talking about yet?” Damn Trinity for being so observant. She crawl-chases him to his side of the couch until he has no room to run. She turns the lamp on behind him on the side table.

Trinity gasps.

Her hands are all over her face and jaw before he can pull away. “What are these, are you okay?” She tries to turn his head and Dennis hissed in pain. Trinity rips her hands back. She looks deadly serious. “Is someone hurting you?” She sounds ready to kill. He wouldn’t put it past her.

Dennis chokes on a nervous laugh. “No! No. No one’s hurting me. Why would you think that-“

Trinity grabs his wrist and hauls him up from the couch, then down the hall to the bathroom. She flicks on the light.

It’s Dennis’ turn to gasp, softer because he’d been expecting it, but no less shocked. Five, tiny bruises litter his jaw; four on one side, one on the other. He could make out exactly where Robby and gripped him, so hard and so good it made him feel weak, even now.

Trinity is glaring at him through the mirror. “You’re telling me no one hurt you? That you did that to yourself?”

Dennis grasps for words. “Well no-“

“So someone is hurting you-“

“As in I couldn’t have done them myself.” Dennis blurts out. Trinity chews on that for a second. Then another. Then,

A shit eating grin.

She slaps him on the arm, pretty hard actually. Dennis rubs the spot with a pout. “You dirty dog. Who was it? Were they here while I was gone?” She gasps again. “Did you pretend to be sick?” Dennis’ wince must give him away. He hates lying. “I knew it! Oh I’m so telling Dana on you.”

“I was sick! Am, sick. Really.” She doesn’t believe him. He sighs. “I may have seen someone during that time-“

“Huckleberry!” Trinity is smiling big, shocked and enjoying being able to tease him so thoroughly.

“But I really was sick!”

“Sure whatever, who was it?” Dennis gave her a look.

“Didn’t realize you were so needy for gossip.” The dig bounces right off her and she rolls her eyes.

“This isn’t gossip, this is my roommate finally getting laid. We should have a party. I’ll invite Javadi-“

“Oh my God I’ve had sex before, Trinity-“ He rubs his hands down his face.

“Ew I don’t need to know that.” Dennis is truly gobsmacked now. She’s still smiling. Whatever war they’re having right now, Trinity is clearly winning. “C’mon, tell me.”

“We’re not talking about this.” Dennis walks back to the living room. Trinity follows.

“Why not? Who else do you have to tell?”

Dennis sits back onto the couch and really thinks about that for a moment. Nobody. He can’t tell anyone about Robby, probably ever. Not even Trinity.

His expression immediately ruins the fun, and she chills out dramatically, taking a seat beside him. “Hey, I’m only teasing, ya know? You’re not- I don’t want to piss you off. Like actually piss you off.” She’s more reserved now, apprehensive. As if she’d pushed him away.

Dennis offers a grin and shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s not you. You’re a freak but you’re mostly harmless.” Trinity smiles back.

“But you’re okay? You’re still pretty bruised up.” Dennis appreciates her concern more than he can voice. He thinks she understands him anyways.

“Yeah, of course. This was-“ He feels his face flush, “Consensual.”

“Oh gross, Huckleberry. Keep your freaky fantasy shit out of my apartment.”

“We didn’t do it here-“

“Stop, stop. I’m going to hit you.”

Dennis is the one chuckling now. “I thought you wanted to know.”

“I take it back. Fuck whoever you want, or don’t. Oh god I can’t get the imagine out of my mind.” Trinity grumbles, and turns the TV up, as if the sounds of Lost can drown it out.

Dennis is still smiling as he starts to watch the episode again. He’d never had a sister before, but he faintly wonders if this is what it feels like.

Chapter Text

Robby texts him the next day. In an empty chat between the two of them, Robby is the one to break the ice of the first text. It’s a weekend and a rare day they both have off, but the text comes as such a shock, Dennis doesn’t open it for half an hour. Instead, he bums at a nearby diner with Trinity, both of them still in half-way pajamas and playing on their phones instead of talking to each other. It’s pretty peaceful, if he’s honest. Besides the fact that his phone serves as a constant reminder of that tiny red dot above his messaging app.

The arrival of their food is the push he takes in finally opening it. He feels like an idiot for being so dramatic.

[Unknown Number]: Hey Dennis, it’s Dr. Robby. Are you busy today?

It’s so formal that Dennis laughs, then covers it up with a bite of too buttery pancakes. Trinity eyes him over her phone but doesn’t say anything. Dennis adds the number to his phone.

: hi i’m not busy why

He hits send before he can overthink it. Does he seem to eager? He did wait half an hour before responding, so maybe that helps? Looking at it, Dennis feels oddly childish for his lack of punctuation or lowercase typing— something Trinity had flipped off in his setting after their first text conversation: “You’re in your twenties, Huckleberry, act like it for once.” He’d began working on his emoji-use since then too— though now might not be the best place to try them out.

Robby replies after his first pancake is eaten.

[Robby]: I was wondering if you wanted help with those ED applications you were working on. The ones you asked me to help you with yesterday?

What? Dennis didn’t say anything like that. He knows because his applications were already submitted. Before he gets the chance to say that, Robby sends another.

[Robby]: I have some of my old application copies at my place if you wanted to use them as reference, is why I ask.

[Robby]: If you’re busy I can just bring them with me on Monday.

Dennis’ phone is an inch from his face now as he reads the messages twice over, then five more times just to be safe. Is this his boss’s way of HR-appropriately asking his med student over to his house? Dennis chews on the edge of his thumb with a stupid grin. This faux-top-secret way of texting shouldn’t be so exciting to him. Dennis half wants to break the schtick with some crude comment just to see how the man breaks, but he plays along.

: that sounds great dr. robby! when?

A minute.

[Robby]: I could come pick you up now?

Dennis looks down at himself. Black sweatpants with his high school’s logo down the side, one of Trinity’s hoodies covering his Nebraska Huskers t-shirt, both of which were a tad too small and rode up when he stretched. And he couldn’t even imagine the state of his hair right now. He reaches a self conscious hand to it, ruffling it in an attempt to fix it through the reflection of his phone screen.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Dennis jumps as Trinity breaks their little silent-phone-time bubble for the first time this morning. Hers is facedown on the table as she’s analyzing him straight on.

“Nothing. Why? Do I look weird?” He knew he should’ve fixed his hair before going out. Trinity just rolls her eyes at him.

“No, you’re just twitching like a patient who says they ‘fell onto the soap bottle’.” Dennis chokes on a laugh at that. She smiles and he relaxes a bit.

Dennis runs his hand over his face, glancing at the text again. “I’m fine just, someone’s texting me, is all.” Trinity waits. Dennis breaks more under the silence. “Well- he wants to see me. Like right now. But I look like this.” He gestures vaguely to all of him. Trinity just raises an eyebrow at him.

“What’s wrong with that? You look fine.” She shrugs like it not a big deal. Dennis supposes it isn’t one without knowing it’s Robby he’s talking about. “Go meet up with the guy, it’s not like we’re busy.” It’s true, but he still feels bad for leaving her. She must see that on his face. “Oh shut up, we see each other every day at work and at home. I think I’ll live if you go meet up with this dude on Grindr.”

“I’m not on Grindr!” He whisper shouts, but no one in the diner pays them a second glance. She just sticks another piece of pancake in her mouth.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Trinity shrugs like she doesn’t believe him. Dennis doesn’t care enough to convince her. Rather her think of this mystery man as some Grindr date than the truth.

Dennis realizes he’s left Robby on read for a concerning amount of time.

: sure! i’m at the ugly dinner on fifth? i could take the bus if that’s too far

Dennis sends the offer even though he doesn’t know where Robby lives. Concerning that he doesn’t know what the man’s living room looks like but he’s had him down the back of this throat.

Robby doesn’t seem to care about seeming to eager as he replies immediately:

[Robby]: On the way.

Dennis gets a box for his last pancake and makes Trinity promise not to eat it. She doesn’t promise anything but he leaves it with her anyways. His price to pay for her lack of questions, he supposes.

Dennis crawls out of the booth in a rush that makes him clumsy and waves to Trinity on his way out. It’s freezing once he’s out the door and he hugs the thin hoodie closer to him. He walks around the corner to a spot where Trinity and his table is completely out of view; then he walks a little farther for good measure.

Dennis fiddles on his phone for a while, watching the minutes since Robby’s text tick by, but he eventually pockets it in favor of keeping his hands out of the hypothermic air.

The familiar, soft rumble of Robby’s truck has Dennis perking up, and he watches it swing around the corner and park in front of him. Dennis is in a freezing, shaking rush to get the door open and crawl in. The hot air hits his face as his door slams shut and he pushes his hands against the plastic vent to thaw. Dennis steals a peak at Robby once he can feel his fingertips, the car still parked. He feels weak at the sight.

Robby outside of work is a gift that Dennis hopes only few have had the chance to experience. He’s in a dark blue crew neck sweater that looks handmade, his golden Star of David contrasting so nicely against the color. And if the grey sweatpants weren’t offensive enough, the dark frames of his glasses were downright obscene. They were perched precariously, just low enough on his tall nose that his brown eyes were looking overtop them— dancing around as they searched every part of the student that sat before him.

Dennis smiles a small, nervous thing. “Hi Dr. Robby.”

The title makes the man’s eyes dance back to his, something soft there. “Hi Dennis.”

Hearing his own name pulls a chill down his spine and Dennis blames it on the cold, pushes his red face closer to the hot air vent. A warm hand lands gently to the back of his hair. “You’re freezing, kid. Why were you waiting outside?” Robby’s hand tangles its way into his curls, Dennis has to physically stop himself from feeling any sort of way about that.

“I was getting breakfast with Trinity. Didn’t exactly want to explain this to her.”

Robby just hums a low sound. Dennis sneaks a peak and the man doesn’t look upset, but his hand freezes for a moment, then continues. “And what exactly would you have said, Dennis?” His voice is steady and certain, but there’s something small there that he can’t quite pick out. Seeking, maybe. Wanting a real answer.

But Dennis doesn’t have an answer, so he stays silent, the two just staring at one another.

Then, Dennis leans over the center console and kisses the man once. Twice. The hand in his hair tightens. “Take me to yours?”

That’s answer enough, and Robby plants one last kiss before pulling away and pushing the car into drive. Dennis falls back into his seat. He isn’t sure he answered the question right, or at all. But maybe this is enough. For now.

Robby’s home is gorgeous and practical, just like he is. It’s a brownstone in Pittsburg, for one. Old and full of charm, yet the inside is moderately refurbished— classic hard wood floors and a stone fire place, right alongside stainless steel appliances and plush rugs makes it feel like a designers wet dream. Dennis knows Trinity can never know about him and Robby, but he’s almost tempted to give it all away just for the sake of showing her all of this.

Robby, however, looks entirely unimpressed by the place. He throws his keys on the table by the door, floats past the entry way and into the living room of the open main floor. Dennis takes his shoes off out of habit and follows after— though not without poking his head into the stairway, only seeing a couple of doors in a dark hallway. Even his house back home didn’t have an upstairs.

When Dennis steps into the living room, Robby has his back to him, finagling with an old record player atop a low bookshelf. It’s clear that the record player has seen twenty-times more love than the shoddy looking tv nearby. Everything is a range of browns and greens and natural colors, all handpicked and secondhand in a way that has Dennis oddly endeared by the man. Only Robby could be the Chief of an entire Emergency Medicine department and have a 60’s threaded couch and a record player that takes Robby another two minutes of fixing before something smooth and old starts playing out of it.

Dennis takes a seat awkwardly on that couch, barely on the edge of the cushion as Robby fixes the place up around him. As he works, Robby is humming along to the song so quietly, he could pretend he wasn’t if asked. He turns on yellow-toned lamps, throws his coats into small closets, and apologizes as he puts worn books back where they belong on the several, completely full bookshelves.

He’s obviously stalling, but he looks so domestic while he does that Dennis doesn’t stop him, just wears a pathetically soft smile and watches him.

When he’s done, the vinyl has already flipped to the other side and Robby finally takes a seat beside him. The couches pulls Dennis a little closer to him as he does. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Dennis laughs. “You’re the one who invited me.” Robby rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly without an answer. Dennis takes the moment to scoot closer. Robby notices. “You’ve got a beautiful house.”

It’s Robby’s turn to laugh, though a tad more sardonically. “I bought it with an inheritance when I was too young to know better.” He shrugs. “Though I suppose it does the job.” Dennis doesn’t push, but he’s deeply jealous.

“Well, I suppose back in your day it was only a couple hundred bucks. No harm no foul-“

Robby tackles him to the couch and Dennis laughs loudly as Robby fights him easily. “Yeah real funny, kid.”

Dennis is in stitches, gasping for air with how earnestly he’s pretending to get away from the man. He secretly enjoys how little ground he can get on the man, who now has both of his strong arms on either side of his head. “I surrender! I surrender.”

Dennis with his hair splayed on the couch and Robby’s necklace bumping his chin, they’re smiling at each other for a moment, just looking at one another.

Dennis takes the opportunity to thread his hands into Robby’s hair and pull him down, fully on top of him in a smothering kiss. Robby drops down to his forearms, then pushes Dennis’ knees apart, slotting his hips there until they’re flush together.

He pulls back for a moment, catching his breath against Robby mouth. “Were you actually gonna show me those applications of yours?”

Robby chuckles roughly and attaches their lips together for a moment like he’s addicted. “I didn't even do a residency application, I was admitted on invitation.”

Dennis pulls the man’s hair tightly, playfully, and relishes in the low whimper Robby gifts him. He presses a mean kiss to the man’s lips, biting at his lower lip. “Of course you got in on an invitation. Asshole.”

Robby’s smile is wide and teasing, a dot of blood smeared on his lip from Dennis’ biting. He looks high from it and all too willing. When their mouths meet again, Robby makes him taste it; a tangy, irony thing that he chases.

Dennis can’t remember the last time he’d made out so messily yet equally lazy. He’d come to know his time with Robby as addictive but ephemeral. Drunken and reckless. Quick like a pair of cruisers in a bar’s bathroom stall.

At first, when Robby had began rocking his hips forward, slow and steady friction between them, Dennis had tried to chase it, still under some guise of an unspoken time limit. Robby had grabbed his hip and pressed him down into the couch, returning to his pace and pressing his lips to his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Dennis could’ve come from that alone.

Now, with no underlying pressure and worry of being caught, the two had found a new rhythm entirely. Robby clearly wanted to take his time with him, damn near worship him, and all Dennis could do was take it— gripping his hands on Robby’s shoulders, his back, anywhere to stop his hands from shaking.

Robby whispers sweet nothings against his neck as he nibbles on his collarbone, more under jaw, smoothing it over with his tongue. To think Dennis had been cold at any point today was unfathomable with how madly hot he burned now.

Robby shoves Dennis’ hoodie and shirt up and follows with his mouth to the stripe of skin offered there. Dennis takes that as invitation, pulling away to rip the hoodie off and onto the floor forgotten.

Dennis also forgot what shirt he’s wearing until Robby coughs on a little chuckle at the reveal. Dennis goes to pull it off too, but Robby puts his hands over his with a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t. You look cute.”

His face must be burning red by now but Robby’s already distracted. A man on a mission, he pushes Dennis’ sweats and boxers down just enough to free him from the waistband; to see Dennis flinch as the cold air hits him. Then, he pulls the hem of the shirt up to Dennis’ mouth; to see Dennis bite down on it with a confused, yet willing, doe-eyed look on his face.

He watches as Robby sits back on his knees and brands him with his eyes as they drag over and down his body. Dennis can’t help but buck his hips at the lack of contact, whine a little into the spit-wet seam of his shirt.

Robby shushes him gently like he’s an animal, then traces a hand along Dennis’ abdomen so fleeting and soft it’s almost ticklish.

Dennis moves his hands to touch— something, anything, but Robby tsk’d once, twice, and Dennis stops. “Ah ah,” with only a quit vocal correction, Dennis freezes his movements without realizing. A flash of surprise crosses Robby’s face, but it disappears just as quick. “Hands by your head.” Dennis is doing so before Robby’s even finished. “I told you, let me take care of you, baby.”

The term has Dennis clenching his thighs around the man’s waist. Robby grips one in reward.

The scene before Robby must be borderline pornographic if Dennis were to guess. His med student lying on his back, half in his lap, legs clenching around him. His shirt bitten between his teeth and his hands above his head, with his pants shucked down just enough to see him red and aching against his stomach, leaking pre cum onto his soft, pale skin.

Dennis tries not to think about his compromised state too much given how deeply Robby looks to enjoy it, but he gets impatient either way.

As if in reward for waiting, Robby spits into his palm and wraps a tight first around him. Dennis moans around the shirt in his mouth, at the solid pressure squeezing him yet unmoving. When it still doesn’t move, Dennis takes the moment to thrust up into it. “There you go. Take what you want.”

Robby’s voice, his fist, the way he looks down at him through his glasses like he’s proud of him— Dennis has to squeeze his eyes shut from the rolls of pleasure that fill his gut. Still, he rocks up into what little he’s given, quick and dirty, Dennis bites down on the shirt like it’ll keep him grounded in his body; like it’ll distract him from all the obscene noises he’s making.

“Do you want me to help you?” It’s teasing and painful how badly Dennis wants it. With his eyes still squeezed shut, he just nods his head quickly, rutting and rocking starting to make him sweat and not close to enough. “Ask me.”

Dennis cracks his eyes open, teary-eyed and blurry from how hard he’d squeezed. The beautiful image of the man above him makes him whimper again. “Please,” is all he can get out.

Robby tuts again and Dennis is immediately ready to listen, to please. “Ask me nicely.”

Dennis moans in complaint, in pleasure, and lets the wet shirt fall barely from his lips, just enough to try again, “Please help me sir.”

He is immediately rewarded with Robby’s wet fist tightening and twisting, pushing and pulling him quick and hard— nothing like the slow and steady they’d done so far. It floods Dennis in a building, rushing wave of heat so fast, he can barely throw his head back before he’s choking on his own orgasm.

His nails grip the couch and he pushes his face into his bicep, moaning hot and open into his skin as his abdomen clenches over and over with each passing wave crashing against him. Dennis swears he see white before he’s shaking as the tension leaves his body in one fell swoop. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been straining himself until he was now a dead weight in Robby’s lap.

He could only now register Robby whispering and kissing along his body, tucking Dennis back into his sweats and pulling his spit-soaked shirt over his head. Then the mumbles of an apology before he uses it to clean the mess off of Dennis’ stomach before dropping it onto the floor.

“How dare you disrespect the Huskers like that.” Dennis’s voice is wrecked and raspy, the words are floaty and high.

Robby freezes, then relaxes with a chuckle. He kisses Dennis’s eyelids each, then his nose, then his lips with a smile. “My apologizes. Always been more of an Iowa fan myself.”

Dennis sits up so fast it makes him lightheaded. Robby barely pulls back fast enough to avoid a header. “You’re lying.“

A beat. Then Robby’s laughing into his hand so hard he has to pull away. “No, no. God no, sorry. Just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Dennis falls back onto the couch with a grin that too soft for his liking. Robby wears one too, his hands back to exploring the soft expanse of Dennis’ now exposed chest. “You about made me rethink a lot of things about us. All my respect for you, gone.”

Robby meet him in a kiss that’s more smile than lips. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t care at all for college football.”

Dennis doesn’t care enough to fight him on it as they fall back into easy, slow kisses that has him falling deeper and deeper into the couch— into him.

Dennis ends up sitting at the kitchen island in one of Robby’s shirts as Robby throws together a sort of lunch for the two of them. He expected it to be more awkward, and to be fair it was, but once they found their familiar topic of work, they moved past it pretty quickly.

Dennis swings his socked feet from where they dangle off the barstool, he’s giggling into his hand as Robby retells story after story of his time as a student and resident. “You’re joking.”

“Sadly I am not.” Robby is half grinning half grimacing at this particular one. “How was I supposed to know she was sleeping with basically the whole hospital!”

Dennis has to hold onto the ledge to stop himself keeling over. “Well what were your test results? Did your attending kill you?”

Robby hands him a plate with a simple sandwich and some chips. A little infantilizing in theory, but he can’t imagine the man can cook anything else given the empty state of his pantry. “Uh, yes I caught something.” Dennis gasps a tad dramatically. “It was completely curable! But they posted my results on the bulletin board.” Dennis is wide eyed with his mouth full, but motions for him to go on. Robby sighs, “One of the attending told me not to ‘dip my pen in company ink’ anymore.”

Dennis genuinely chokes on his laughter and the bite of food in this mouth. Robby is lightly patting his back but Dennis is fine, and he looks at the man with a sort of awe. “I can’t imagine sleeping with a patient.” Robby rolls his eyes. “I can’t even imagine you as a med student, or just you being young.”

“Aw thanks kid,” Robby oozes sarcasm and pinches Dennis’ neck. He leaves his hand there, solid and warm. Dennis blames his redness on the aforementioned coughing fit.

They stay like that for a while. Dennis is still full from breakfast and Robby ends up finishing his portion. It’s simple and domestic in a way that Dennis doesn’t really know what to do with. He decides not to think about it and just lets himself enjoy the soft, constant touches that Robby traces up his neck and down his back.

Still, Dennis reasons, it’s Robby’s fault as to how Dennis ends up on his knees with Robby rocking into his mouth not five minutes later. Sharing stories of when he was young and hot, then making Dennis food like some beautiful house wife; it was all an elaborate trap, Dennis argues.

Robby doesn’t last long given how he hadn’t gotten off at all earlier, no matter how many times Dennis had asked. Now, Dennis swallows him down easily, enjoying how the man groans and grips his hair as he squeezes every drop from him. It’s vulgar and dirty and sinful how much Dennis enjoys this part of it, and he can only imagine how the once kid alter boy Dennis would react if he saw him now.

Robby has to pry him off once the overstimulation gets too much, and even then, Dennis is evilly kitten licking at him still, pawing at his legs, his waist. All the blood still south leaves him pleasantly light headed and drunk. Robby is grinning down at him like he has the same thought, but his actions are completely different.

He tucks himself away and pulls Dennis to his feet by his wrist, then traps him against the kitchen island. Dennis is already pleading under his breath for friction, touch. But Robby just chastely kisses him on the lips and doesn’t go back for a second even as Dennis follows it. “Can you wait for me?” Dennis is already shaking his head, needy. Robby hushes him. “I’m not as quick on the upswing as you, kid.” Robby chuckles, and kisses between his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth. A siren calling him to the ocean could be synonymous with how Robby is making him feel. “If you be good for me, how about I reward you later, hm? Anything you want.” Dennis already has his answer, and before he can think about the repercussions, he asks,

“Can you fuck me?”

Robby freezes his administrations. Dennis has half the mind to freeze himself.

Then, Robby’s hand cups his face and Dennis can’t stop himself from leaning into it. Robby, though attempting to remain serious, looks pleased at the sight. “Are you sure?”

Dennis nods quickly, and interrupts before Robby can ask again. “I don’t know how else to convince you just how badly I want it.” He ruts his hips forwards once, rubbing the evidence of his want for this man right into his leg. He’s rewarded with the image of Robby subtly biting his lip, still trying to reign in his composure. Dennis can’t figure out why.

“I don’t want you to push yourself. What we’ve been doing is enough for me, if that’s why you’re asking.” Dennis doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal to Robby. He knows better than to admit just how much anal sex he’s had since coming out and moving to Pittsburg. It’s not egregious by any means, but it’s enough to make him wonder why they hadn’t tried it yet.

Dennis focuses some blood back to his brain and tries to answer more seriously if that’s what will appease the clearly old-timey gentleman. “I want this. If I’m honest, I’ve wanted it since the first time in the showers.” Robby’s ears turn red at the mention, but he continues. “But if that’s not what you want that’s fine-“

“No I do.” Robby interrupts eagerly, and darkens further in embarrassment. Dennis hadn’t realized the man could be so cute. “I just mean-“

“Robby.”

“Dennis.”

They stare at each other for a moment, like they can see somehow through the other. Dennis is the one who breaks it with a solid kiss to Robby’s lips.

They linger.

“Fine. I mean yes. Please.” Robby sputters out. Dennis can’t really stop the smile this time. He’d never had to fully ask a guy to fuck him before. It almost makes him get excited again. Per se, he’d never really been with a man like Robby before; he makes his past partners look like boys.

Now completely flagged, Robby can lead him back to the couch safely without Dennis potentially jumping him. They turn on a random channel which ends up being reruns of an old, badly executed medical drama. It has the two of them piping up at every incorrectly placed central line and genuinely laughing at the sheer amount of malpractice lawsuits they accrue in such a short time.

Soon, Dennis finds himself half atop Robby,— his head on his shoulder and his legs lifted and laying on the man’s lap— Robby’s hand on his ankle rubbing what skin he can access there, his other wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him close. He tries not to think too much about it, about how easy it is, as the sun starts to set behind sheer curtains.

Still completely tangled in one another, the reruns eventually give way to prime-time television hours, starting up a movie Dennis has never heard of. It’s something old enough to have black bars on either side, making for a square and grainy image. Robby softly explains how he actually knows the movie; loves it even. He’s whispering fun facts during the lulls and it has Dennis slowing down significantly, suddenly drowsy and deeply enjoying the low vibrations of Robby’s chest against his as he speaks.

It’s fully dark outside the next time he opens his eyes. It’s the same movie, but much farther in— if the random death scene of a character he’s never seen is any give away. Robby is still rubbing circles in his back and humming along to the background music of the show, he hasn’t noticed Dennis’ awareness at all.

When Dennis finally and blearily lifts his head from the man’s shoulder, he’s met with Robby’s softest look yet. “Morning kid. Thought you’d sleep until morning with how hard you were snoring.”

That wakes Dennis up. “I don’t snore!”

Robby chuckles, moves his hands up to his hair and tangles itself there like it belongs. Dennis supposes it does. “Oh it’s soft don’t worry. I would’ve had you go test for sleep apnea otherwise. Or a drooling problem.”

Dennis is surely beet red as he wipes at his mouth, but finds no evidence of such drooling there. Robby has a smug, mischievous smile on his face and Dennis teasingly punches the man’s chest. “Asshole.”

Robby pulls him in by the hair so gently— the kiss that follows even more so. “Sorry. You just looked so peaceful.”

Dennis can’t think up a response, doesn’t even try, before he’s connecting their lips again. It’s so slow and sweet it scares him, but Robby is still rubbing his ankle, curling his hair, it lets Dennis slow down and enjoy something for once.

Robby pulls faintly at his ankle and Dennis follows it through, pulling up and dropping himself into the man’s lap. They don’t speed up, but Dennis can feel the pressure build. Robby pulls him in closer, deeper, and all encompassing in his arms. His glasses push into Dennis’ cheeks and their noses bump every time the swap sides from how little they refuse to part from each other. They grind slowly against each other, soft pants and hums into each other’s mouths, pushing and pulling into one another like a boat rocking with the tide.

Dennis, for a moment, debates not doing this. Not out of lack of want, but a deeper seeded idea that asks if him and Robby could function without this. If they had anything solid between them that is separate from the sex they have.

But Dennis doesn’t stop, because he thinks he knows the answer.

They end up in Robby’s bed, which sits on a large wooden frame in an upstairs room, with a bay window looking out over the dark night sky of Pittsburg. It’s pretty beautiful, if he’s honest, the way the night lights the room in blue hues, a stark difference to the yellow lamps of downstairs.

He doesn’t get much time to appreciate it as he falls back onto the softest bed he’s ever laid on, and a taller man smothers the view as he crawls atop of him.

Robby’s careful of his size as he opts to hover over Dennis, caging him with strong arms on either side of his head. Dennis’ favorite, if he had to choose. The way Robby looks down at him like he holds the world in his hands, his Star glinting free from his shirt, the way he has to rip his glasses off just to get closer to him— it’s all addicting. Dennis takes advantage of their freedom in a secluded place for once and paws at Robby’s shirt, pulling it haphazardly over his head the best he can.

Robby laughs at the effort but sucedes, leaning back to pull the sweater and his undershirt off and over his head. Dennis pretends his mouth doesn’t water over his fifty-something year old boss shirtless. His hands find purchase on the warm skin and Robby hisses at the cold contact— Dennis watches his abdomen clench and twitch as the hands begin to wander. The power he feels is nearly equivocal to his hands on a patients chest as he pushes life back into their heart; blood back to their brain. Robby keens in the attention and moves to remove Dennis’ as well. He lets him.

The simple barriers of shirts being removed shouldn’t feel so electric and instantly gratifying, but when they press close again as their lips meet, they can’t keep their hands off each other. Scratching faintly down Robby’s back. Robby gripping Dennis’ waist, thumbing the soft spot below his ribs, they clamber at each other like virgins. The grinding returns and Dennis opts to attach him mouth to any and all of the newly acquired skin he can reach being beneath him. He bites and sucks all over, worries the skin between his teeth just to hear the man’s breath hitch. He lingers on the spots that make Robby whimper: the junction of his neck, the right of his adam’s apple, the place just below his clavicle. Dennis has to be physically pried away with a rough pull of his hair that releases a wet, wanton noise from his lips without his realizing.

Robby looks a mess, hair in all different directions from Dennis’ pulling and small red marks dotting all over his chest and neck. Dennis hopes those will go away before their next shift. Secretly, he hopes they never leave.

“Do you still want…” Robby trails off. Rarely, if ever, has Dennis seen him truly hesitant. His eyes, however, are a dead giveaway to the want there. The need.

Dennis nods with a bite of his lip and scoots more towards the center of the bed, creating space as Robby resolutely moves to the nightstand and Dennis kicks his high school sweats off.

When he returns, it’s with a small bottle and the familiar crinkling sound of a condom. While Dennis is pretty certain he wouldn’t have questioned the lack of one if only for Robby, he’s appreciative that the doctor didn’t even have to ask.

“Are you sure-“

Dennis can’t stop himself from groaning, and he evilly hooks his finger through one of Robby’s belt loops, pulling him closer. It works, and Robby has a swallow hard to keep his composure. “I know you like to call me kid, but I’m not one.”

Robby absolutely sputters at that. “No- I never meant- I don’t see you as a child. Ever. Oh my God.” Dennis still wears a mischievous smile with how easy it is to mess with the man. He throws him a bone and kisses him hot and wet on the mouth, just long enough for the man to relax again.

“I was kidding, old man.” Robby tugs Dennis’ ear in acquiesce. Dennis lingers his lips right against Robby’s, makes him chase after them, but pulls away just before he can. Then he looks up between his lashes, right into Robby’s heat drunk eyes. “Now shut up and fuck me already.”

A familiar hand lands on his collarbone and shoves him down, his back hitting the bed with a bounce. Dennis tongues at the inside of his own teeth. The riled up, crazy look in Robby’s eyes is exactly what he wanted. And as he rips the boxers right off of Dennis, he’s nearly giddy.

“You were always such a good boy for me, Whitaker.” The use of his last name shocks him, but the sound of the lube cap opening more so. Robby squeezes a healthy amount of it onto his fingers and Dennis watches, mesmerized as it drips down his hand, his wrist. “What happened?” Dennis gasps as a cold finger starts to circle his rim and Robby hushes him softly.

When Dennis doesn’t respond, Robby tuts in that same tone, the one that makes Dennis shock to attention like a live wire. Robby grips his clean hand onto Dennis’ waist and turns him onto his side— Dennis’ hip digging into the soft bed. Then, he bends his top leg up by the knee so Dennis’ thigh is pressed up against his own chest. It’s like he’s curled up in bed, Dennis thinks, despite the way he’s now fully spread out for his boss.

“Much better.” Robby purrs, pulling his cheek out of the way and Dennis mewls as the first knuckle finally pushes through. Robby is sat back on his heels, pants still on and tented as he slowly fingers Dennis open. “Just like that. Always a good student for me, right Whitaker?” Dennis moans as the first is now fully seated and pumping in and out of him. Barely a stretch with how wired he is but an odd feeling nonetheless, no matter how used to it he may be. Robby curls his finger meanly, right into his prostate and Dennis pushes his face into the mattress with a cry. “I asked you a question.”

Dennis nods into the sheets. “Yes Dr. Robby.” He’s rewarded with a low hum and the press of a second finger.

They continue like that, with one of Dennis’ curled and the other out flat, Robby stretching him and quizzing him on how good Dennis is. He can barely dignify Robby with a response more than “Yes sir,” or “No Dr. Robby.” Dennis can’t remember the last time he was thrusting himself back onto just a pair of fingers. He supposes a doctor would know best about their way around a body. Though Dennis can’t help but figure that this is entirely Robby simply reading Dennis’ movements and the small cues of his body.

Once Dennis feels sufficiently ready, he starts to whine, which Robby takes, and he slowly pulls his fingers out. Dennis has to hold his breath against the feeling, but giggles a little as Robby has to wipe his fingers against the bed spread to dry them. “Oh you think that’s funny, kid?” Robby’s tone is teasing and fond as he ruffles Dennis’ hair and bites once at his neck for payment. It only makes him laugh more.

Now fully relaxed again without even realizing, Dennis looks at Robby over his shoulder, watches him finally get rid of his pants and slide the condom on. Maybe it’s just from this angle but Dennis is once again in awe he ever fit that in his mouth. The idea of it fitting elsewhere is a nervous one to say the least.

Robby calms the thought with a soothing hand on his waist, drawling circles there as he lines himself up. With Dennis still on his side and his leg hitched up, he hopes that the angle will help in the stretch but still let him see Robby’s face. Likely why he put him in the position in the first place. Dennis doesn’t linger on the tight feeling in his he gets at the idea.

Thankfully, Robby doesn’t ask before he starts to push in, he simply reads the clear need radiating from the man and moves. Dennis’ head falls onto the sheets with a slightly pained groan, remembering to breathe through his nose and relax. Robby is saying something, something calming and sweet that Dennis doesn’t quite catch amidst his concentration— but he registers the solid hand on his waist and the low vibrations of Robby’s voice as help enough.

He takes a couple seconds halfway through and Robby doesn’t make a single comment, just rubs his hand down his thigh and rambles off praise, “You’re doing so well, baby,” or “Perfect as always Dennis,” or his personal favorite, “Taking it so well, like you were made for me.” He savor them all and gives a nod when he thinks he can take more.

Taking a dick this big is a laborious affair, one that Dennis usually avoids by hedging his bets on smaller sized men. This isn’t something they exactly prepared you for in porn: the actual time it takes to be ready. That’s not to say Dennis isn’t enjoying himself, softly moaning and his stomach twitching and seizing from the confused signals of pleasure among the burn. And the shot of endorphins when Robby finally hilts, so deep inside of him, has Dennis gripping the sheets and panting.

“There we go, Den. I knew you could do it.” Aside from the nickname, it’s something Robby has probably said to him before in the ED but feels entirely different now. Going back to work tomorrow will be a struggle.

Robby still gives him more time, frozen at first, then slowly rocking his hips only a few centimeters. Even the small drags become addicting and the stinging ebbs away, heaving forth wave after wave of the most addicting dopamine shots Dennis has ever experienced. His small noises turn louder as Robby begins pulling more out and pushing harder in. The first full drag as Robby’s tip catches at his rim, followed by the relentless push back in, hard and steady, pulls a noise so pitchy and pathetic from Dennis, he tries to hide his face into the mattress.

“None of that.” Robby sounds just as wrecked, pulling him by the hair so his face is free again. Dennis blearily meets his gaze and Robby has an egotistical, genuinely pleased smirk on his face. Whatever vulgar image that is Dennis in that moment makes Robby slam his hips back down, hard.

Dennis cries out and grabs Robby’s arm that’s holding his hair and claws at it in a daze.

Now, without being able to smother it, Dennis whimpers and pleads, breathily moaning for harder, faster, until Robby obliges. And God does he.

Dennis didnt know what he was expecting, really. He understands that his boss is in his fifties and maybe hasn’t had a lot of gay sex if he were to guess— but now, Dennis wonders if he’d been completely off base.

Robby places a free hand in the crook of his bent knee and somehow pushes is farther, enough that his semitendinosus complains at the stretch, and his chest bows half into the bed to accommodate; now half on his stomach and whimpering about how good Robby feels.

That only spurs the man on, and his pace quickens, deepens. He angles his hips just a tad and Dennis has to bite down on his own knuckle to keep himself from genuinely crying out. Robby doesn’t stop him this time, too distracted by driving into that same spot over and over again, catching it on every thrust like it’s a competition.

“Oh fuck, fuck Robby- please don’t stop.” Is the most comprehensive string of words Dennis can even pull together at this point, mostly just babbling how good he feels, how perfect Robby is, anything to get those beautiful noises out of the man.

Dennis whines as Robby pulls out, looking over his shoulder with a pained look, like he couldn’t fathom why he would possible pull away now. Robby grins at the reaction and shushes him soothingly. “Just wanted to move you to be a bit more comfortable, baby. No need for the water works.” He’s clearly joking but Dennis is a little embarrassed to admit the sudden lack of pleasure had prickled a bit at the back of his eyes.

Robby doesn’t notice, thankfully, too distracted by maneuvering Dennis like he’s a sack of potatoes. He places Dennis fully on his stomach now and shoves a pillow under his hips to hold him up, comfortably arched. Dennis wiggles his hips impatiently and then wants to die of mortification at the fact that he just did that. What is Robby doing to him.

The doctor just chuckles, endeared if not highly pleased at the sight. “Patience, kid.” Dennis hears the telling sign of more lube being applied, and relishes in the groans Robby offers as he warms it up, temporarily jerking himself off before lining himself up again and pushing in.

There’s no breaks or breather this time, Robby returns to that same brutal pace like he’d never pasued at all. Dennis tries to hold his head up for as long as he could before the jolting of his body being shoved back and forth has him dropping his face into the sheets again, his cheek sliding against the fabric with every thrust. More so, the pillow under his hips provides delicious friction to his untouched cock, as it leaks heavy now onto the pillow case.

“Just like that, Whitaker.” Dennis can hardly think, suddenly aware that the man fucking him to an inch of his life is both his chief of Emergency Medicine and just Robby. He can’t decide which is hotter. “If only you could see how perfect you look right now.” Dennis pries an eye open to see the shadow of Robby, heavy and hot above him, staring down at him like he’s going to devour him. He might as well be. “Fuck- fuck. Sound so good-“ Robby’s hips are stuttering now. Dennis is so close it’s starting to hurt and he hasn’t even realized. Like going from dry land to fully submerged in the ocean; pleasure flooding his sense like the water would fill his ears. Robby clasps his hand around the back of Dennis’ neck, pushing him impossibly further down, like he’s trying to fuck him straight through the mattress. Just a little more, anything- “Such a good boy for me Dennis.”

Dennis nearly passes out from how hard it hits him. It suffocates him. All encompassing and full to the brim, it pulls him under and all Dennis can do is drown. His own noises fall on deaf ears and he faintly registers Robby’s hips catching on how hard Dennis squeezes— barely makes out the symphonic noises Robby makes when he finishes too. Dennis shivers as he feels Robby pulse and twitch inside of him, growing impossible hotter.

Still, he’s barely there as Robby pulls out. If the epinephrine he’d been chasing in the ER this whole time wasn’t enough, he was certain this solidified him for life as a permanent adrenaline junky.

Robby slowly removes the pillow and turns Dennis softly onto his back, lays kisses all over his face until Dennis has enough soul back in his body to playfully shove him away. They’re both smiling like idiots, but Dennis, for once, is too far gone to care.

“You alright?” Robby asks, horse and gravely. If Dennis wasn’t so entirely spent, it would’ve made his dick twitch in interest.

“Just peachy”

Robby chuckles and brushes a stray hair behind Dennis’ ear. For the uncountable time that night, they linger too long there, neither wanting the moment to end.

But it does, and they both have work in the morning. That hard truth is solidified by the red alarm clock reading a disgustingly late time.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll drive you home.” Dennis nods and tries his best to take the words easily— to prove to Robby that he can do this, can do easy and casual sex. Maybe Robby believes it, given how quickly he starts gathering Dennis’ clothes off the floor and pulling his own pants over his hips.

But as Dennis is wiping his own cum off his stomach, he can’t help but wonder if Dennis had been completely transparent in how badly he was beginning to want more. And maybe Robby just didn’t care.

Chapter Text

By some miracle, Dennis places into PTMC for his residency program. However, in the two months that it takes for the decision to be made, he finished out his time at the Pitt pulling his hair out at the idea of these being his final weeks here.

He and Robby very pointedly don’t talk about the possibility that he could be leaving. Instead, they fill that unsaid space with egregious amounts of sex— to the point that Dennis is genuinely shocked no one has caught on yet.

They’d created a sort of system: marks only allowed under clothes, and less sex at the hospital. The ladder being the hardest to accomplish, but somehow the most rewarding. Having to ride a life saving high with only tentative glances, getting harder to hold in with each successful case. It was the most addictive game of cat and mouse Dennis had ever played.

And when they were finally off shift, they’d sometimes barely make it to Robby’s truck before they’re ripping and pulling each other apart at the seams.

So when the letter finally does arrive, confirming that Dennis didn’t have to leave the Pitt, or Robby, he immediately pulls out his phone and sends a picture of it to the man, no words needed.

He doesn’t wait for a reply, bursting into Trinity's room next and ignoring her complaints by shoving the paper into her face. He watches her read it, then burst into a yelling mess of celebration, going as far as to hug Dennis in excitement. She’s breaking away and rambling plans before he can process it, though he’s smiling wider than he has all year. “Oh my God Huckleberry, we have to text everyone. We need to go out- no stop with that face you’re not squirreling away again. That mystery man of yours already gets all your time, you owe me.” Dennis shuts his mouth at that because she’s right. Besides, she already has her phone out and texting possibly everyone they know.

And, given that Dennis had already worked his “last” shift at PTMC three days ago— the card they’d written him now magnetized to the fridge— he has no excuse of being busy to dodge the plans she makes for that night.

Dennis tries his best not to check his phone, knowing full well Robby is still at work and likely won’t even see his text for the next few hours, but he fails miserably. Trinity insists on dressing him up for the night and he’s checking his phone so often, she threatens to shave his hair off if he doesn’t stay still. He’s sat frozen after that, letting her finally cut his hair into a shoddy mullet in their tiny apartment bathroom.

When she’s done, Dennis hates to admit that she was right, and that this is exactly what he needed. But she reads it loud and clear on his face through the mirror and she gloats the rest of the night.

“Huckleberry your hair looks so good!” Javadi, who meets up with them after her shift, touches the little curls at the back of his neck. They’re meeting at a dive bar near the hospital so the rest of the day shift can come by and celebrate if they want. Apparently Robby was invited too and Dennis feels completely normal about that.

“Yeah that was all me.” Trinity slaps him so hard on the back he stumbles a little. “Saved this little farm boys life. And I dressed him! Look how normal he looks.” Dennis flushes as they start pointing out all sorts of details about what Trinity had put him in, and he feels like a dress up doll to his two evil step-sisters. Still, he doesn’t have the heart to contest because he can admit he looks pretty okay. New haircut and a tight shirt does that to a man, he supposes.

More of his coworkers start filing in after that; Mohan with another comment about his hair, McKay with a tight hug and congratulations, even Dana pops in just to say she’s proud of him before heading out to see her family. That one means the most to him so far. Maybe he’s still stunned by the idea of a happy mother and he flocks to her praise unreasonably because of it. A shot is shoved into his hand before he can delve too deep into that.

A lot of his favorite nurses stop by and say congrats, Jesse even gives him a cool nod and Dennis feels pretty good after that— even more so by the two extra shots that go down in the meantime.

Dennis ends up pleasantly drunk on the makeshift dance floor of their shitty dive, Trinity, Mel, and Javadi all circled with him each with colorful drinks in their hands and dancing just as badly as him.

A hand lands gently onto his shoulder but Dennis jumps half a foot anyways. It’s Robby. Fresh out of work and exhausted, Dennis is almost pavlov’d to jump his bones right where he stands. It’s a near thing with all the alcohol in his system but he refrains as his three very aware coworkers are looking at them.

“Robby!” He doesn’t even last a second and is hugging the man tight around his waist. Fuck.

He feels the doctor laugh awkwardly and pat him platonically on the back before pulling Dennis off him as nicely as he can. Dennis pouts, but it’s wiped away when he realizes Robby is wearing his glasses again. Dennis is delusional enough to believe he’s wearing them for him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Robby starts, and Javadi kindly waves him off, saying he isn’t. Her speech is slurred and Dennis suddenly wonders how she was even allowed in here— or allowed to drink. A fake? Oh how the star child has fallen. “Just wanted to stop by and say congratulations, Dennis. Or Dr. Whitaker, I should say.” Dennis would be a liar if he said he didn’t get a little excited at Robby calling him doctor. A lot excited. His body subconsciously sways towards him and Robby has to put a firm hand on his shoulder to both hold him up and maintain a friendly distance. By the way the man grips him, Dennis gets the idea that Robby isn’t as collected as he seems. “I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t want to interrupt your fun-“

“No stay! Stay. Dance with us.” Dennis’ voice is whinier than he’d expected. Robby’s grip tightens.

Dennis stumbles on his own feet.

All four doctors go to catch him but he doesn’t fall, catching himself on Robby’s shoulders. Wide, strong shoulders-

“Maybe I should take you home.” Dennis snaps up at the words. Robby is looking at him so professionally, then turning to the other three. “Would you all like rides home? I can’t in good conscience leave my staff drunk without a safe way back.” He’s serious and genuine and Dennis should not be thinking what he’s thinking about right now.

“No, no we’re okay! Jesse is our DD for the night, don’t worry Dr. Robby- I mean, just Robby?” Mel is speaking for her much drunker counterparts and Robby clearly only agrees given Mel’s more sober state. Dennis could’ve sworn he’d seen her matching their drinks, was she that much of a tank? A part of him believes it.

Robby nods. “Fine. But text in the groupme once you’ve all gotten home safely.” They all nod but don’t have the heart to tell him that only the old people in their staff use that chat. “I’ll drive Dennis back.” Dennis is nodding without even giving a proper reason as to why. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” They wave them both goodbye as Robby starts to steer Dennis out of the bar by his shoulders. Dennis wonders faintly why Trinity had been so quiet.

The cold air feels great on Dennis’ hot skin, he pinches the front of his tight shirt and pulls it away from his sweat slicked chest, sighing in relief. Robby is frozen behind him, but dares to learn closer, and breathe warm air out against the shell of Dennis’ ear. Dennis shudders and doesn’t feel the cold air much anymore. “Let’s take you home.”

Dennis stumbles his way into Robby’s truck and collapses against the familiar polyester of the front seat. Robby climbs in after him and the truck rumbles to life. Dennis doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until Robby kisses the tip of his nose and he startles. Robby’s already pulling back and backing out of the spot by then with a grin on his face.

The drive is short, or maybe Dennis is falling in and out of sleep throughout it. Either way, they do inevitably pull into his apartment complex and Dennis partly wishes Robby were a worse man, and had taken him back to his beautiful brownstone.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you inside.” Dennis shudders at the name, one he hears so often he hadn’t realized how foreign ‘Dennis’ had sounded on Robby’s lips at the bar until now.

Dennis lets himself be helped out of the car and up the three flights of stairs. He’s partly sobering up, and he proves it by unlocking his door first try (something he rarely succeeds at sober if he’s honest).

He uses the excuse of removing his shoes to lean up against Robby. Then he pulls the man by the hand under the excuse that he would get lost if he didn’t; nothing to say of their 1000 sq ft of total navigable area. Robby entertains him anyways, lets Dennis pull him into the living room and plop them both down on the shitty pink couch. Dennis halfway crawls on top of him out of reflex, legs on Robby’s lap and his head on his shoulder. Robby sighs, like he hadn't planned on staying, but curls his hands around the boy’s thigh anyways.

They sit there for a while, Dennis listening to Robby’s heart beat, Robby drawing patterns against Dennis’s thigh, hip, waist. It’s nothing for them, at this point, but Dennis can’t make his breath fall easily.

He turns his head up and kisses once at Robby’s jaw. Twice. He lets out a sigh that sounds a lot like a warning, but grips him tighter nonetheless. Dennis continues, trialing his way slowly up his face, through his soft beard, and finally landing on his lips. In the end, neither put up much of a fight and succumb to the familiar. Dennis opens up for Robby just how he likes, pliant and willing, letting the man take and taste as much as he wants. Robby tries to devour him, slow and deep. He pushes Dennis onto the couch and follows him down, never breaking.

Dennis maneuvers his legs open, feels Robby slot perfectly between them. He curls his arms around his neck and pulls Robby infinitely closer, not searching or pushing for more or faster, but to maintain the solid weight on top of him— the crushing pressure of their mouths and chests and hips.

Robby trails his hand south and pushes its way underneath Dennis’ shirt, hiking it up and he shivers agains the cold air of the apartment.

“Robby-“

The front door opens.

Robby is off of him in record time, and Dennis can barely pull his shirt back down before he’s locked eyes with Trinity, standing in the doorway, key still in the handle.

It’s silent, and he can only imagine what Trinity sees: Dennis, fresh out of the bar and still smelling of sweet liquor, and their chief attending on top of him with large, explorative hands. Maybe Robby can imagine how bad this looks as well, because he maneuvers Dennis’ legs off of him and stands up to leave without a word. Dennis catches his hand. Robby looks back at him painfully.

They share an heavy look, then Robby shakes his head once, and leaves.

Trinity, still in the doorway, makes room for Robby to exit but says nothing, just watches him with her eyes until he’s out of sight down the stairs.

Dennis takes a moment to fix his hair and smooth his clothes as best he can, sitting up and crisscross on the couch to be as presentable as possible, like it’ll distract from the reality of their situation. The door creaks shut, and Trinity takes off her shoes, shucks off her coat, and moves to the couch methodically. Dennis feels like a teenager caught making out with another boy— though he can imagine if that were truly the case back home, it wouldn’t be so quiet. Or gentle. Because as Trinity finally sits down and looks at him, it’s not anger or even disappointment he finds there, it’s concern.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Dennis is scrambling before he has his thoughts in order. What can he even say? He wishes Robby were here to tell him.

Trinity shakes her head and rubs her hands down her face. “Then explain it to me. Because this, all looks pretty bad.” She’s waving her hands around, exasperated, and it’s clear they’re both too tipsy to be having this conversation right now.

“Yes, yeah I know how it looks but it’s all completely consensual-“

“How can it be consensual if you’re drunk, Dennis?”

“I’m not-“

“You had like five drinks-“

“-well it’s not like I’m usually drunk!”

Silence.

Dennis pulls his lip into his mouth like it’ll pull the words back in. Up until now, maybe he could’ve lied it off as a stupid one time make out with his boss, no HR needed, just a little mistake and everyone moves on. Now he’s blown it.

“There’s been other times?”

It’s too late to deny it now. “Yes.”

Trinity outwardly groans and falls back into the couch, grumbling something under her breath. “How could you be so stupid?”

Owch. “What the fuck? I’m not being stupid.” Dennis, sitting on a pink couch with kiss bruised lips from his consistent, unlabeled affair with his boss, is suddenly aware of how stupid he’s being. “Okay it’s stupid but we’re being safe.“

“Like making out in a common space, much less our apartment at all!” Trinity gasps and sits up straight. “Have you brought him back before?” She looks down at the couch, newly disgusted. “Oh my God have you tarnished the couch before and never told me?“

Dennis has to laugh, and Trinity awards him with a punch to the arm. “No, he’s never been here before. I promise.” He tacks on the last part given the still skeptical look on Trinity’s face and the way she’s still eyeing the couch oddly. “We go to his, after work and such.” Dennis doesn’t add to the fire by mentioning where most of their tryst took place at first.

Trinity fidgets with her fingers and clearly stews on it for a while. Dennis lets her. He can’t imagine what he’d think too if the roles were reversed. Then, “How long?”

Dennis hesitates. “Since PittFest.”

“That was our first day!” Trinity sputters.

“Well, I mean technically it was the day after that we-“

“Ew, no I don’t want to hear it.” Dennis grins a little, and watches the cogs in her head work on overtime, combing through every moment she’d ever seen the two men together. “Was it Robby? The one who gave you those bruises on your jaw a few months ago?” It’s serious again, and Dennis is getting whiplash.

“Yes- stop, before you freak out I already told you it was consensual.” He’s saying the word so many times at this point it feels like a sound.

“You say that but-“

“But nothing! I don’t know how else to convince you. We kinda hooked up one time after work, don’t give me that face, and it spiraled after that and we just, haven’t stopped. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Trinity clearly doesn’t believe him. And though what he said is mostly the truth, he can’t help but disbelieve it himself.

“That’s it.”

Trinity chews on it again, and Dennis can only wait, and hope she doesn’t report them to HR. He doubts it, but he’s seen Trinity rip people apart for less.

“I don’t like it.” Trinity concludes.

“I know.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Yup.”

“And grossly unethical.”

“Very.”

She sighs for the nth time, but this one feels more granting, and final. “But I suppose you two are grown adults, and now that you’re a resident it’s not like he’s even writing your internship reports.” Dennis smiles and she glares at it. “But don’t go thinking I’m suddenly okay with this, I’d much rather you not risk your entire career for some guy.” Dennis doesn’t argue that Robby isn’t just some guy to him. “If you get caught, it’ll be you who suffers from it, not him.”

Dennis isn’t smiling anymore, and soberly nods. “I know.” This time, it’s quieter, and less sure.

She punches his arm again, just as quiet and unsure. “Just be careful. Please.” Dennis nods again, stress-chewing on his lip. “Oh, and no more sex on the couch.”

He properly groans this time. “You’re so dramatic we were not having sex-“

“Gross, God don’t make me remember it. It’s like I can still see it behind my eyes.” She’s comically waving her hands in front of her face like a mirage. They laugh stupidly at each other, and Dennis feels like this was probably the best outcome, all things considered.

Robby avoids him like the plague.

Dennis spends his last full week off work waiting for a call back or even a read receipt on the several messages he sends. He fills the empty space Robby leaves with bad TV with Trinity, and medical studies, and anything to distract from the creeping reality of his situation. By the end, Dennis can’t wait to get back into the Pitt because at the very least, Robby can’t avoid him there.

Plus, after a week straight of nothing but lazing about, waiting for his residency to start, the farm boy inside him is dying for some hard labor. And the ER does nothing if not deliver.

First day back, officially a Doctor, Dennis feels the difference immediately. Nurses ask him for more information yet help less, he’s expected to see even more patients at an even faster pace, but the amount of traumas he’s put on diminishes greatly. Well, the last one may just be a side effect of Robby’s continued avoidance of him.

Dennis doesn’t know what he was thinking, he can’t even get two words in with Robby without them being pulled away by something infinitely more important. Still, that doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Robby-“

“Doctor.”

“Sorry, Dr. Robby, could I just-“

Dennis is essentially chasing after him. Robby is walking quickly towards the trauma bay, feigning ignorance as he prepares for the MI inbound. The doors slide open and as they finally make it outside, Robby does inevitably have to stop. Still, his eyes are on the road watching for the ambulance.

“Robby, please can we just talk about this?”

“We’re at work, Dr. Whitaker.”

It’s the first time Robby’s even said his name today. Dennis takes that as a win. “Sure okay, then how about after?”

“I’m busy.”

Dennis has to laugh. “You’re never busy.”

Robby finally looks at him, sharp and cold, and it reads a lot like then maybe you don’t know me. Dennis subconsciously takes a half step beck.

Robby’s face softens, small but noticeably. Regret maybe. He opens his mouth to speak, but it’s the ambulance siren that fills the space instead.

Like a switch, suddenly neither of them care about much of anything other than the patient.

The doors slam open. “65 year-old male, cardiac arrest at a restaurant with this wife.” The EMTs are speaking before his gurney wheels even touch the ground. “We shocked once, no epi, ROSC. Heart rate 105 and bp 92 over 50.”

“Is he going to be okay?” An old woman from inside the ambulance starts clambering out of the back as well, holding a cardigan closely around her body.

Dennis has an ear to the rest of the read out, but stalls slightly to reassure the woman. He gives her a tight smile and motions for her to follow them through into the ER. “He’s in great hands.” Is all he says. She’s nodding like she believes him— wants desperately to believe him. Dennis wants to believe it to.

The slam of the board hits the new gurney in Trauma 1 and Dennis is focused once more. “Some bystander was performing CPR on him before we got there. Probably saved his life.” Is the last thing the paramedic says before leaving.

The old man is mumbling something, clearly confused but can respond somewhat to Dennis’ questions. “Let’s get an ECG, see just what we’re working with here please.” Dennis is talking and moving like a doctor, a real proper doctor, just like the ones he’d dreamed of while shoveling cow shit out of the stalls back home.

Faintly, over his own heartbeat in his ears, Dennis hears Robby explaining some of the tests he’s doing to the altered man and his wife— the wife who was let in the same time the ECG was. She’s gripping her husband’s hand, frail but strong and it has Dennis looking away.

“ST segment elevations in lateral leads.” Dennis reads out what he’s seeing on the screen, a little confused. “But there’s also reciprocal changes in the expected inferior leads, and ST segment depressions in II, III, and aVF.” Robby steps up behind him and checks the sheet as well. He’s shaking his head, a pinched look on his face.

“What’s wrong with him?” The frail woman asks, pained and hurried. Dennis imagines what his mother would look like at this age; in this situation. Would she cry for his father like this woman does so earnestly? Dennis knows the answer and shakes the useless thoughts from his head.

“Could this be something more isolated? The OM branch?” Dennis had done extensive research regarding anything MI after Mr. Milton. A long shot, but if the entire artery was closed, they’d know it, so maybe a branch sever would make sense.

Robby’s is shaking his head, but parses the idea anyways. “Not likely. Let’s wait on those cath labs and we’ll know more.” Robby pats him on the back twice as he walks past, completely habitual, yet Dennis revels in it anyways.

Dennis has time to check in on two of his other patients— a GSW to the shoulder and a kidney stone, respectively— before Robby is calling him back in.

It’s mostly empty, with Mel and Trinity hurdled around the test results and Robby nodding him over. The patient and his kind wife had gone to surgery for a splint. He’d seen them go up, and the wife had given him the tiniest little thumbs up he’d ever received, it made him a little queasy.

Dennis finds a spot and reads the results on the screen carefully. “100% obtuse marginal artery occlusion?” Dennis asks, genuinely surprised. He was right.

“Isn’t that pretty rare? The rest of his left circumflex arteries look fine?” Mel asks, face so close to the screen, Trinity has to loop a finger in her scrub collar and pull her back a few inches.

Robby takes it as a teaching moment, and goes on to explain just how this can happen, pointing out all the different affected areas, and how this is in fact, very rare. “And yet Whitaker here is the one who got the jump on it. Great job, kid.” And after a week of isolation from the man, Robby’s praise feels like 10mg of oxy shot right into his IV— or what he assumes that feels like. Whatever.

As they disperse, Mel gives him a thumbs up on her way out, and Trinity just leaves with her tongue stuck out at him. He childishly returns it. Dennis has a big, proud smile on his face when he finally turns to Robby in the now empty room. His eyes are back to the familiar warmness Dennis hadn’t realized he’d missed so much. They’re crinkled endearingly in the corner. “I was serious, by the way. It was a great catch.” Dennis just nods, uncharacteristically shy. “I told you you’d make a good doctor.”

Dennis, embarrassingly, is deeply affected by his words. Like a dog trained to salivate at the ring of a bell, Dennis can’t help but weaken at the sweet, low tones of Robby’s voice as he curls on about how good he is. Dennis has to squeeze his thighs together just barely— just enough to keep his head on his shoulders and his blood up there too. Robby’s eyes flash down, then back up, always noticing. The brown of his eyes seems to darken and Robby takes the tiniest movement closer. “I’m not busy after work.” He admits.

Dennis has to roll his eyes, but is subconsciously leaning closer. Still a perfectly safe distance away, but the tension in the air is anything but. “Yeah I figured as much.” Teasing Robby is never a good idea if Dennis plans to walk the next day. But for this? Dennis supposes he can still work tomorrow with a limp.

Robby is squinting down at him, like Dennis is just a new puppy he hasn’t properly broken in yet. While Dennis doesn’t really have a thing for something like that, metaphorically or not, if Robby would just touch him, he could be down for anything right about now. The amount of power that gives Robby must be intoxicating, and his voice is nearly purring now, “How about I drive you home tonight-“

He doesn’t get to finish the thought, though, as the Trauma doors slam open behind them. They both jump like they’d been caught. He supposes they have, but truthfully, nothing had even happened. Yet. “Are y'all gonna stand here all day or free up this poor room for an actual patient?” Dana has one, lifted eyebrow so pointedly judging them, it has Dennis apologizing about twenty times as he rushes out of there. If Dennis had a nickel for every time they were interrupted, he’s probably be rich by now.

Before he can get far, he hears Dana lower her voice to Robby, “He’s here to see you. I put him in South 3 if you wanted some privacy.”

Dennis would be lying if he said he didn’t slow his pace as he walks away. “I don’t need this right now.” Robby sounds nothing like the man from earlier, sharp and mean and entirely exhausted. He scurries away after that.

Dennis, really truly, however, did not go to South 3 on purpose.

After his little eavesdropping, he guiltily headed to central and grabbed the most unassuming patient on there: some kid in chairs with a tiny face lac. It’s Lupe’s fault that he’s sent to South 4, honest.

And as he’s getting his ear talked off by the most concerned mother on Earth over her perfectly fine son, he really hadn’t planned on Robby leaving right as he walks by. Nor had Dennis expected Robby to be followed out, the man yelling after him as Robby blatantly avoids the scene.

The man stops as Robby rounds the corner out of sight, clearly fuming. So much so, neither of them even noticed Dennis standing just five feet off to the side.

The man runs his hands through his hair, frustrated and hurt. Then, he turns to head back in and stops cold when he sees Dennis. The mom and her son walk into their room like the commotion meant nothing, he supposes it wouldn’t to them. But it does to Dennis.

Because it’s Langdon who’s standing there, stopped like a deer in headlights.

Chapter Text

Langdon survives rehab and a divorce, yet walking back into the ER again after everything is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He’d learned to cope with his addictions, learned to listen to his wife a little too late, all with a death gripping guilt, but he’d done it. Testified in court, pleaded for custody of his children; lost it to biweekly visits. Moved into a one bedroom apartment for the first time since college. Through it all, he still knew he was lucky. Lucky to be alive and have gotten the help so many couldn’t. And by the good graces of whatever lay beyond, he was lucky enough to get his job back.

But his luck ran out there.

For those graces nor his ex wife or anyone else could help stop the dread that froze his veins and stuck his feet outside the front doors of what used to be his second home, the Pitt. Perhaps his first if he were truly honest with himself. Because deep down, he knows Abby deserves the kids more than him. The court agrees.

Langdon pinches the beads of his daughter’s homemade bracelet between his fingers. Spins the wedding band on his finger. Both ghosts of someone he isn’t anymore— someone he will pretend to be if only to fend off the worst of the inevitable questions he’s about to face once he passes the Pitt doors.

Immediately upon entry, everything feels different. Or maybe it’s him.

Similar faces pass him wearing looks he’d never seen before: welcoming smiles, sure, but pity is the common denominator. His favorite nurses pat him on the arm when he says hello, two taps like they’re saying “there, there.” Some of the security guards try their best to act the same when he greets them, but Langdon hears the way they talk freely once he leaves.

Dana, like a breath of fresh air, treats him like nothing at all. A genuine welcome back accompanied by three new cases shoved into his hands. Langdon prefers it this way.

The worst of it comes with his fellow doctors.

Dr. Santos, though he’d severely hoped otherwise, is still here, as well as all the other med students now mostly turned doctors. Langdon had hoped he’d be more ready to face her, apologize and thank her all at once in a way that didn’t feel too demeaning. Though thankfully— and really not thankfully— Dr. Santos avoids him like she doesn’t even have to try. Langdon takes it stride. Another day to plan what he’s going to say, then.

Dr. Javadi and Dr. Mohan are a tad more normal. Typical uncomfortable smiles that say they don’t really know why he’s here nor do they really care. Langdon doesn’t really know why he’s back either.

Mel is a shining spot. She’s probably the only who smiles at him all shift and he chooses to stick near her for most of their rounds and some time in chairs. If anything, she rattles on enough for both of them, trying to catch up in a way that doesn’t actually press too hard on where Langdon’s been this whole time. He wonders if people give her enough credit.

However, where he’d expected the avoidance from Robby, the now resident Dr. Whitaker avoids him similarly, but with an undercurrent that Langdon thought only reserved to Dr. Santos. To be honest, Langdon barely remembers the kid after all this time. It was one shift and he vaguely recalls him killing a rat, but the two hadn’t spoken much if at all. He can’t imagine what he may have done to piss the kid off. And it only gets worse as the days go by.

The kid is a good doctor, he has to admit. On the rare occasions Whitaker can’t fully avoid him, Langdon finds himself taking a backseat on their cases. He works hard and he’d clearly earned his spot here for good reason, Langdon only wishes he could actually befriend the budding doctor. Or at least speak with him.

“Hey that was a good save in there-“

“McKay, could I get your opinion on something?” Whitaker doesn’t even acknowledge his attempted olive branch before he walks out and finds McKay down the hall. Langdon lets his hand fall back to his side and just watches him stalk off.

Still, Robby is infinitely worse.

A week into his return, he’s over under 20 words from the man whom he’d once worshiped the very ground he’d walked on. Anything aside from medical talk, Langdon can barely say a passing “good morning” to the man without him grimacing and finding some made up task that requires him to be far away from him.

McKay had given him some kind advice about facing his fears or whatever. Dana had told him Robby wasn’t gonna bite. Langdon wouldn’t be so sure.

Inevitably, they end up on the same trauma. An overdose. It feels cruel, though Langdon has no one to blame.

It’s a couple, a John and Jane Doe, both found in a motel bathroom by the maid. Their skin is tight over their bones and their hair unwashed. Their clothes barely need the scissors to be pulled off their bodies, held together by patches and half done sew jobs.

They’re warm, and that’s about where the good news ends. Several sprays of narcan and as much fluids as a sick body can take, and still their stats remain impossibly low.

Langdon can feel Robby watching him, more than he has all week, and Langdon doesn’t have it in him to look back. Robby doesn’t think he can handle this, and Langdon knows he can’t. Still, he stays. If only to prove himself to Robby; to gain some semblance of control back into his body, he yells out every order and follows through the routines like it’s nothing to him. Like he doesn’t realize how lucky he is to not be these people— how close he’d gotten.

They lose them both.

It’s a miracle they even survived the ride here, but Langdon takes it harder than he should.

Looking back, Langdon can accredit these deaths to the first strain he feels being back.

The happy-go-lucky persona he tried so hard to maintain slips more with each passing shift. Langdon can’t pretend to be the man he was before. He doesn’t want to be that man.

He leaves his homemade bracelet on his nightstand the following Monday.

Then comes a week of three more overdoses, one child lost to DKA— a girl with the same middle name as his daughter, and he’d thrown up for an hour after— four tumor diagnoses, and a deadly car accident killing a family of five, not one to be saved.

Officially three weeks being back, Langdon leaves his wedding ring on the nightstand too.

Entering his fourth, Langdon is no less than ragged. He’s snippy and combative in a way he recognizes only from his recovery. Maybe it was too soon to come back. Maybe he wasn’t ready. He feels himself spiraling with every passing day, and worse still, he starts to notice things.

Langdon notices first and foremost the staring. Robby’s eyes follow a certain doctor for seconds too long as he leaves the room. How Whitaker’s eyes search for the attending first thing in the morning not two steps into the building. How Robby always finds his back. At first, Langdon could’ve sworn they hated each other. His first week, the two were as sparsely seen together as he and the two respectively. Then, as Langdon’s weeks got worse, theirs only looked to get better.

Looks turn to touches and whispers and smiles on Robby’s face that he’d never seen before.

Any other time in his life, Langdon assures himself that he could’ve been happy for them and whatever they’re doing. But he’s not, because he remembers when that was him. He remembers being Robby’s pupil. How warm it felt to be the sole of his attention; like standing under a heat lamp.

Now, he’s left out in the cold and it’s crawling its way between his ribs.

“Langdon, they need hands in Trauma 2.” Dana calls out from central, already moving on to something else. Langdon moves because it’s what he’s supposed to do, only to find himself in Hell.

There’s blood on the floor and spurted on paper scrubs. It’s a stab wound, but that isn’t what bothers Langdon. It’s the fact that Robby and Whitaker are both here, leading the case. He ignores the way they look at him when he enters the room, reminds himself that he has a right to be here.

Langdon jumps right in.

“Airways intact.” Whitaker announces.

“Bilateral breath sounds,” Langdon interjects. The two glance at him, then each other. Professionalism wins out. “Diminished on the left-“

“Keep moving, we can already assume the left is going to be down given the wound placement.” Robby speaks evenly, and Langdon feels like a scolded child.

Perlah pushes the door open and pokes her head in, “Whitaker, your patient in Central five needs you.” The said doctor shakes his head, clearly annoyed by this said patient but degloves anyways. Langdon chooses to ignore the look he and Robby share before he leaves. It’s then that Langdon realizes he’s now finally alone with Robby. Well, them and like five nurses.

Langdon tries to focus and do his job, the one he’d been so confident in just a few months ago, but it feels like no matter what he says or does, it’s wrong. Robby corrects him on stats, on specificity. Critiques and combats his ideas for treatment and tests. He does it so quickly and impersonally, Langdon starts to feel equally defeated as he does irritated. He doesn’t want to be an angry person anymore; the kind who yells at med students and his mentor by the lockers. But Robby starts to push him.

That guy lived, but Langdon barely cares how. He’d been trampled in there and from then on, Robby flips from avoidance to virtually vengeful. How they were once never on cases together, now he can’t seem to get away. It’s as if Robby has taken a personal, vested interest in his atonement and supposes himself the executioner.

Robby reams him over simple suggestions. “A chest tube? Are you trying to kill him?” He shames him for his mistakes. “Intubation is a last case scenario, Dr. Langdon. I thought you’d have learned that given the patient you lost last week.” He pushes and pushes and pushes- “Dr. Langdon, how about you let Dr. Whitaker handle this one.”

And Langdon snaps. “Fuck off, Robby! I know how to do my job.” A week of torture and yet the nurses freeze at his tone like they hadn’t expected it. Weak, meek new Langdon sounding like his old self. He can practically hear them judging him: I knew he wasn’t ready.

The patient is unconscious, damn near dead given how long Langdon has been doing CPR, so it’s a miracle there’s no patients witness to his yelling.

Langdon chances a glance up. Robby’s face is blank, cracking at the edges of his eyes and he has half a mind to be afraid. “Outside. Now.”

Whitaker does take over for him, and Langdon ignores the genuine look in the kids eyes. He wasn’t a bad kid, Langdon concedes. Simply blinded by the sun that is Robby. He knows the feeling.

Langdon trails behind Robby like a kicked, but seething puppy. It’s humiliating and it only pisses him off more. He hates being angry— hates how everyone was just waiting for him to break.

Robby, surprisingly, goes to the staff elevator. Langdon steps in and leans his back against the mirrored wall, watches the top button be pressed. It’s silent on the way up, slow beeps with each passing floor.

More surprising, is when Robby reaches out and pulls the red stop button, and the Elevator freezes. Being a non emergency elevator, no alarm rings but Langdon feels one blare in his head anyway.

“What the fuck was that.” Robby’s voice is even but uncontrolled. He turns and faces Langdon head on, staring straight through him. Langdon grips the silver railing to still his shaking hands. He tries to breathe through his nose like he’d been taught. “Why are you throwing a fit in my ER like a child?”

“Why are you treating me like one?” Langdon doesn’t mean to yell, but it feels so good. Robby doesn’t flinch, like he’d been expecting it. Langdon has to laugh, a short, sardonic thing. “You’re the one who keeps trying to get rid of me! I can’t go a second without you breathing down my neck or saying how i’m wrong or stupid or-“

“So that gives you the right to throw a tantrum in front of a patient?”

“Oh please that guy’s dead anyways.” Langdon is shocked by his own callousness, but doesn’t surrender.

Robby’s brows raise halfway up his head. “Have you lost your fucking mind? That’s a person down there-“

“Yeah like you’re so high and mighty.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying maybe we’re not so different, junkie to junkie.” Langdon shrugs like he didn’t hit the nail on the head. He knows because Robby clenches his jaw and rolls his shoulders like he’d been caught, then takes a defensive step backwards. Langdon seizes the space with one forward.

Robby laughs like he’s crazy, then says as much.

Langdon shakes his head. Another step forward. “You think we’re all blind? I see the cases you pick. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you eye fuck that student down there-“

“He’s not a student.”

“Is semantics how you get yourself to sleep at night?” Langdon can’t help but feel like he’s winning. “I didn’t even say a name and you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Robby clenches again, but it’s not enough. Langdon wants him to break too. Another step. “You’re disgusting. He’s half your age and you’re his boss! He probably doesn’t even realize he can say no-“

Too far.

Langdon knows it as soon as he says it as a rough hand comes to his neck and shoves him back; back every step he’d gained and into the mirrored wall he’d started against.

“Does this make you feel strong?” Robby is right in his face, palm on his clavicle and fingers on his neck. Not squeezing but a solid, unmovable presence that Langdon doesn’t even think to remove. “Dragging Dennis into this won’t fix you.”

Langdon, stupidly, laughs. “Did first name basis come before or after you fucked him?”

He doesn’t know who moves first, but suddenly they’re crashing against each other, rough and familiar and all but devouring. It’s teeth and biting as they draw blood off each other's lips. It’s not gratifying or warm or anything but setting oneself ablaze and succumbing to the pain only earned through the immoral. The taste of iron is sickening and telling of how long it’s been since the last time he’d licked Robby’s blood off his teeth.

Langdon habitually digs his nails into the back of Robby’s neck, drags them down right above the collar where he likes the sting. Robby hisses in pain but grips a bruise into Langdon’s hip, the closest he’s ever gotten to a reward.

“You need to go back to rehab if you think this fixes anything.” Robby says meanly against his lips, his voice low and ragged.

Langdon not so gently slams his knee between Robby’s legs and the man keels over, but an unmistakable groans leaves his lips. “And you’re still an old man fucking a twenty something in your spare time. I’ll fix my shit once you do.”

“Deal.” Robby seals it with crash of their noses as they connect again, aching and bruised.

And just like that they’re back to routines like he’d never left, rocking and chasing and using the other like nothing but a borderline punching bag and pleasure. No one pisses him off like Robby does, but no one makes him finish like him either, so he inevitably chases both.

Langdon doesn’t get the ladder, as Robby suddenly shoves him by both his shoulders into the wall and takes a full step back. Langdon drunkenly smiles, all teeth and copper stained. He knows because Robby’s are tinted red too. “What? Am I too old for you now?” He teases, whiny just to sell the bit and Robby’s whole body tenses in disgust.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Langdon just shrugs. Robby runs his hands through his hair and worries his broken open bottom lip. The salt from his saliva must sting in the wound as he flinches slightly. Langdon tongues at his own broken lip but savors it. Robby watches.

The man restrains with a few more steps away and he pushes the emergency button back down. The elevator jolts back into motion, headed back down to the Pitt.

Robby is silent and clearly battling something loudly in his head. “I’m not gonna tell your boy toy if that’s what you’re so worried about.” Langdon feels a little bad as he says it. The anger has been properly drained out of him now— only teasing pettiness remaining— and he actually doesn’t mind the Whitaker guy. But he likes pushing Robby’s buttons more than being honest.

Robby’s face scrunches again from the name. “He’s not-“

“Look, I don’t care what you do with your free time.” Langdon raises his hands in mock surrender. It pisses the man off more. The ticking elevator likely the only thing stopping him from pouncing again.

“It’s not fair. For him.” Robby’s voice, for the first time since he’s been back, sounds quiet, and genuine.

Like a cold bucket of water dumped over his head, Langdon can’t place that which floods his veins.

Unbelievable.

Langdon huffs a laugh. Tucks his still shaking hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t fair for her either.”

The elevator door opens and he leaves Robby with that. He doesn’t have to say anything else if Langdon’s missing wedding band doesn’t say enough.

Chapter Text

Something’s wrong. Dennis isn’t an idiot.

Langdon has been back almost two months now and trying to hate the guy is starting to wear on him. He tries his best for Trinity’s sake, but he can’t help but feel bad for the guy.

That is, until he starts to suspect that he’s sleeping with Robby.

At first, he’d thought the two were beating each other up, as did the rest of the hospital. They’d come back from their first real spat both with broken lips and practically bruised. When Dennis had asked Robby about it that night, the man had just grumbled and they’d had rougher sex than usual— not that he’s complaining.

Dennis swears to himself that he’s just reading into it. They hate each other, and have continued to hate each other with each passing day. But something is different now. They argue loudly over unconscious patients and grumble meanly under their breaths over awake ones. Central has become a borderline war zone for the two of them, and Dennis has become witness to several of Dana’s reamings into the them because of it.

And yet, Dennis can’t help but feel the two are enjoying it. Snarky comments and meaner replies has Robby’s chest falling quick and uneven. Returning from presumed fights with bruised lips and tattered clothes, Langdon looks less injured but elated.

Dennis barely gets a chance to process it, as the distance comes second.

Robby doesn’t find his eyes after saves a stops inviting him over after work. What had once been several times a week turns into two, maybe once if he’s lucky. Then, it’s nothing.

Dennis feels like an idiot. He can’t help but chase the man as he leaves, texts him with offers to come over, then tries to be okay with being blown off, time and time again.

Robby, to his credit, has the mind to look guilty. Purposeful or not, it doesn’t make Dennis feel any better. It makes him feel worse, because now he knows Robby’s assuredly done something wrong.

When he begins connecting the dots to a certain R4 being back, he does not handle it well. Thankfully, only Trinity bears witness to the brunt of it. The rest of his coworkers notice his deepening eye bags and sagging demeanor but accept his excuses no matter how bad.

Trinity goes as far as to attempt cooking him something one night to make him feel better. And even though they’d inevitably had to throw it out in favor of ordered-in pizza, she’d let him lay his head on her shoulder and said nothing of his tears. That meant more to him than anything else.

And somehow, embarrassment does not properly cover how mortified Dennis is. Does he even have a right to be so upset? It’s not like they were dating. They were simply two coworkers having good sex no matter how unethical.

And a night out at a familiar dive with Trinity, Dennis can’t help but spiral.

He swims in the memories of his acceptance night into PTMC— Robby’s hands on him, guiding him from the bar, back to his place and into the beginning of something Dennis deeply wishes he could undo if only to prevent this.

He decides then and there to take someone home that night.

Five mystery shots in his system and a double thumbs up from his roommate, he rebounds with a man who kisses too fast and yanks him too hard.

It’s uneventful and blurry, but the guy at the very least takes the hint and leaves before Dennis has to be back at work. His back aches and there’s a sizable hickey on his neck that doesn’t make him feel any better. Whatever he thought he’d gain from a one night stand, he does not find.

Perhaps the only good thing— or very, very bad thing— to come out of his rebound is the fact that Robby finally acknowledges his presence again.

Halfway through his shift, he’d given up on the half-ass bandaid Trinity had stuck on his neck in favor of comfortability and thrown it away. Dennis got a couple teasing whistles from Perlah and Princess, as well as a discretely placed condom in his hand from McKay with a wink, but other than that, he didn’t think much of it.

Then came his boss, but Robby didn’t act like his boss, he acted like a jealous ex. His eyes could barely meet Dennis’ in favor of latching onto his neck with a seething he thought only reserved for Langdon.

Dennis hates to admit how good it makes him feel; having Robby’s eyes back on him at all has him drunk with power, the jealousy painted there only a cherry on top.

Robby, as expected, finally finds him after shift for the first time in two weeks.

They fuck in the backseat of his truck and Dennis suddenly can’t remember why he was upset in the first place: shirt half off, chest pressed to the rough fiber and a seatbelt-buckle stabbing into his shoulder, but he can barely feel it with Robby behind him.

It’s dark and with his face down, he can only make out the imposing shadow that is Robby, pushing and pumping in and out of him so hard Dennis swears he’ll get mock rug burn across his chest.

“Who else did you have in here?” Robby barely sounds like himself, like gravel on a stone surface, it’s low and strained. “I leave you alone for a couple days and you go off and fuck some guy? Is that how this works?”

Dennis fights against his moans to speak, slamming a hand up against the door to stable himself best he can against the rocking— it doesn’t work. “I- fuck. It wasn’t a few days.”

A loud smack echos in the car, and it takes Dennis a second to register the ache coming from his ass, then another to release a pained whimper between his teeth. “Semantics.” For some reason, Robby’s hips stutter on the word, but return rougher before Dennis can think anything of it.

When Dennis finishes, it’s loud and pathetic but all encompassing in a way he hasn’t felt since their last time together. No wonder he’d chased the man.

Still, he faintly— and already— regrets letting Robby have him so easily after Dennis had chased him for so long. It makes him feel easy, and used.

It doesn’t help when Robby finishes inside him soon after, with a groan Dennis had missed so much but now makes him want to cry. Robby pulls out and Dennis falls into the seats from a lack of support to his limbs. He can’t recall the last time he’d been dropped so hard.

At the very least, Dennis reasons with himself, Robby pulls Dennis’ pants back up his legs for him and smooths his shirt back into place. The sound of the man’s buckle sliding closed has Dennis sitting back up and wiping his face with the back of his hand before Robby can notice.

Sitting up, facing the front of the car, he ignores Robby as the man in turn faces him. He feels childish, and Robby must think the same as he sighs, disappointed and mean. It hurts more than it should, and Dennis goes for the handle.

Robby doesn’t stop him.

The next day, it’s Dana who breaks the news to him that he’s not scheduled for this morning, but tomorrow night.

Night?

“I don’t know, hon. I don’t make the schedule.” She points a pen to a general direction behind her, not looking up from her computer. “Take it up with Robby. Last I’d heard was you’re on night shift now.”

Dennis doesn’t look for Robby, but Trinity.

They’d just come in together via her beater car they commute in every morning, so he found her by the lockers still getting ready like he’d expected. Her head is fully in her locker and she’s standing like she’s half asleep, but the sound of someone approaching has her head lifting groggily.

“What’s up- woah hey, what’s wrong?” Dennis doesn’t know what face he’s wearing but it’s serious enough for Trinity to lock her arms around his shoulders. Dennis falls into them like a newly birthed calf, weak and unable to stand.

Robby texts him a couple hours later as Dennis is living like he’s straight out of a bad romcom: pajamas at 2 PM, curled up on the couch with sweets, and a stupid movie on the TV. He’s aware of the stereotype that he is perpetuating, but he can’t get himself to care because it makes him feel better. The text does not.

[Boss guy]: You didn’t come see me today. Told Dana to send you my way, did she not talk to you?

Dennis huffs and lets the text sit for several minutes before replying.

: She did.

Though highly unlikely that Robby will notice his purposeful good grammar, he’s a little smug with himself either way. Trinity would be proud of him.

Dennis kills through two more episodes before he gets a text back.

[Boss guy]: Okay. Well I was going to tell you that you’re on night shift for now.

When Dennis doesn’t respond, another one comes in shortly after.

[Boss guy]: One of the new residents is out on maternity leave.

Dennis doesn’t ask what he really wants to know: Did you offer me up for the role? Did they request me? If so, did you fight for me to stay? Because if Dennis has seen anything from Robby recently, it’s not a willingness to keep him around.

: Ok.

[Boss guy]: We’ll see you when you get back

[Boss guy]: Don’t let night crew steal you away!

It’s clear Robby is trying to tease or return to the— friendship? relationship?— way they once spoke, but Dennis won’t have any of it. Petty or childish or whatever Robby wants to deem him, Dennis doesn’t care. He doesn’t respond.

Night shift scares the shit out of him. His alarm is loud and blaring as he forces himself up at the horrible time of 5 PM. When he staggers out of his room, Trinity is no where to be found and he hates the quiet of getting to work by himself. The commute via bus isn’t much longer than his usual drive with Trinity, but the smell of the seats and the jostling of the dangling grab straps upsets Dennis more than it should.

The ER feels quieter than usual when he enters on account of the time. His roommate spots him first from where she’s wrapping up her charting. She looks as exhausted as he feels. They don’t hug or so much as clap hands, but Dennis stands close and Trinity grins tiredly at him, “Can’t believe you got put on nights. Who’s gonna cook me dinner now?” She’s teasing, but Dennis knows she’s a tiny bit serious and panicky over the idea of operating an oven alone again.

Dennis shrugs against the heavy backpack still on his shoulders and starts backing away to his locker. “There’s some pop-tarts in the cabinet? But don’t eat them all!” Trinity smiles and makes no such promise.

He shakes his head with a smile, but doesn’t fight her on it.

Dennis recognizes a piercing stare to the side of his face and knows it’s Robby without looking. He doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back, and gets ready for work like nothing is different and the sun isn’t setting.

“Welcome to the dark side, kid.” The voice startles Dennis so badly, he half assumes it’s Robby based on the ‘kid,’ and he slams his shoulder into his locker door in surprise. The voice laughs low and cool, then a cold hand falls to his upper arm and holds him there. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dennis snaps up and finds, not Robby, but Dr. Abbot smiling down at him.

The nervous laugh that leaves Dennis is small and humiliating. “No! Sorry, no, no you didn’t scare. Me. You didn’t scare me.” His first attempt is broken up and his second sounds like a parody of itself.

Abbot raises a single, blondish-grey eyebrow at him. Up close, the man is freckled and wrinkled around the eyes and the corners of his mouth; like he’s lived a life outside and amidst his gloomy career, found time to smile. “Okay,” he stretches the word like he doesn’t believe him. “Well, just wanted to stop by, say hello. Introduce myself properly to my newest addition.” Dennis is nodding the whole time, maybe too much? He freezes. Not enough? He starts again.

Abbot is watching him like he’s crazy, but curiously— deciding that maybe he’s just crazy enough to work night shift.

Dennis forget it’s his turn to speak, then scrambles to recover. “Yes! Of course I know you.” Is that creepy to say? “Everyone knows you.” He’s not a superhero. “We met during Pittfest?” Good way to ruin the mood. Dennis’ shoulder sag in defeat. The action reminds him of the strong hand still on his arm.

Abbot removes it, but he’s smiling. Maybe he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself? “You’re weird, kid.”

Well there goes that idea.

The cold hand comes back and taps him twice on the back, encouraging, then he’s heading off towards central. “Go pick up day shift’s rounds and find me back at the board when you’re done. We’ll give you the run down and I’ll show you how we do things around here.” Dennis doesn’t have time to reply before the man is gone with a departing wink.

Not twenty minutes into his new shift and he’s debating voluntarily taking himself up to psych and making them fix whatever’s wrong with him.

He recovers better over the next few hours.

Dennis successfully avoids Robby during shift change, and gets a half-encouraging pat from Trinity on the way out, so he takes both in stride as signs for a good night.

And despite fighting his circadian rhythm the whole time, it surprisingly is.

The first few hours are a familiar busy pace to the start of his morning shifts, just working through the stragglers and filtering in chairs more than traumas. The biggest difference, is how it doesn’t pick up. If anything, it gets much slower. No one, as per jinx rules, remarks on this. But equally so, no one so much as reacts. It’s as if this slugging pace is normal. Abbot explains as much to him.

“It’s different, right?” Dr. Abbot had saddled up beside him, hip leaning against Dennis’ station as he charts, and Abbot just watching him.

Dennis swallows, and nods. “Yeah, I mean I don’t want to jinx it but it’s really…” He trails off to avoid the word.

“Slow?” Abbot finishes for him and Dennis’ eyebrows raise like he’d just shot somebody. The man laughs at the sight and Dennis bites his lip, embarrassed but enjoying the sound of a happy attending. “Don’t worry. That word can only do so much at night.” Abbot rolls his shoulders back and eyes the trauma doors. Nothing happens, and his eyes return to Dennis with a confident shrug. “After about fifty sex related injuries, you won’t care much for superstition.”

Dennis nods like a good student and files away the look Abbot makes— it’s not the searching, burning thing that Robby pierces him with. It’s simple and approving and lacks any ulterior motives. It’s refreshing if not affirming to Dennis that he is, in fact, making for a good doctor and not always just a ‘good boy’ in bed.

Dennis— old habits die hard— chases that approving stare any chance he gets. Being the only R1 on the floor, he’s given a plethora of learning opportunities and handed operations he’d only dreamed of working on during day shift. He’ll have to rub all this into Trinity's face come morning.

He takes every new case in stride, confident and try-hard and pushing himself to prove himself to Abbot in any way possible. While that works for the first few hours— two thumbs up’s from Abbot, and even a ‘good job’ from Shen— that pace cannot hold long against the growing need for sleep Dennis is used to having at this time of night.

Shaking hands has a nurse placing an IV for him at 1:00, and he stutters his way through presenting a case around 2:30.

It’s Shen who pushes a half drunk Dunkin into his hand after that presentation, and Dennis stares at it, confused. The man rolls his eyes, “Just take it. I’m not sick or anything, and I’ve got my mobile order coming in soon anyways.” Dennis is so tired, he doesn’t even know what that means but he thanks him and chugs the thing best he can through the flimsy orange straw.

It makes more sense when Shen is showing his phone to a dasher half an hour later with two new coffees in hand. Though the drink had been way too sweet, Dennis pockets the order sticker before he throws the empty cup away; figures he owes him one next time.

The drink only carries him so far and he feels himself crashing again around 4:00. It’s Abbot, who takes pity on him this time. Well, as well as a man like Abbot can.

“What’s wrong with you?” Strong start. Dennis is too tired to hide the grimace on his face. Abbot looks around helplessly, like he knows he might be too strong headed to handle a tired Dennis right now. He sighs when no better options arise, and rubs his face with his hands. “I know you’re tired, we all are, but you gotta muscle through it. If you die out now, the next few weeks won’t be any easier.” Dennis knows he’s right, so he quietly says as much.

“I know. I just started off too strong, I think.” Tired means loose lips, Dennis discovers. Abbot is professional enough not to react.

“Is that what you were doing earlier? You were on fire at the start.” Dennis feels ashamed, though he’d technically done nothing wrong. But the tone in Abbots voice makes him want to shrink. That chase for approval had been a short and brief one as that car now crashes, hard.

Two cool hands grip his elbows and gently shake him around. Dennis can’t help but laugh at the juvenile action. Abbot is smiling too, clearly accomplishing whatever mission he’d set out to do with that. Still, his hands don’t leave. “You don’t gotta impress me, Dennis.” His first name sounds like heaven with Abbots rough, gritty voice, and Dennis blames his sleep deprived mind for supplying the thought. Abbot’s hands soothingly rub Dennis’ medial epicondyle— the action doesn’t help stamp out the thought. “I don’t know what kind of boot camp they run over there, but you are a great Doctor, with or without your attending’s approval.” His voice rasps on the last part, like he knows something Dennis doesn’t. Dennis is, once again, too tired to fester on it.

“Sorry, sir.”

Abbot shakes his head, but his thumbs press a little harder. Dennis is too distracted by his cocky grin. “None of that.” He pats him on the arms in finality, his hands returning to his pockets. “But go try that line with Shen, he’ll eat it up.” Another wink, but now accompanied by that charged grin, Dennis can’t respond as the man leaves.

Dennis inevitably does use that line on Shen later after being given an instruction on a patient, and the man gloats like he’s a man made chief.

Dennis knows his shift is coming to a close because patients start filing in more and more as the sun starts to rise. Not to say that he wasn’t immensely busy during the night, but that came more in waves like slow moving tides. Now, nearing 7:00, it’s more like jumping head first into the Mariana Trench.

He’s actually on top of his charting— Abbot had given him a subtle nod when he’d noticed. Dennis had only smiled back and attempted not to chase it, just as Abbot had inadvertently told him— which means he’s ready to go home on time: a miracle. A fact he also rubs in Trinity’s face as soon as she steps through the doors, retelling all the cases he’d seen.

“Ew God why are you telling me that?” Trinity has her nose scrunched up and she tries to shake the story off in disgust. She’s shoving her bag into her locker and all sorts of wrappers and hair ties are falling out, but she doesn’t seem the care about the mess. “I’ll never be able to use a candle the same again.”

The two are laughing as Trinity tries to one up him, recalling her night of relaxing and sleeping and it reminds Dennis of the warm bed waiting for him right now. He throws his jacket on upside down in a hurry, but doesn’t correct it as he’s waving Trinity goodbye and borderline sprinting out of there.

Dennis makes it as far as outside the front doors before a solid hand grabs him by the collar, successfully yanking him back so hard he falls to the ground.

“Oh shit! Sorry angel. I have a bad streak of scaring you.” Dennis, flat on his ass, stares up at an exhausted, messy-haired Abbot, and lets the man pull him off the concrete without struggle. Dennis really doesn’t want to think about for too long.

“Angel?” Dennis questions before he can stop himself. He brushes his pants off to try and play it cool.

Abbot shrugs— a signature move at this point— like it’s nothing. “We like to make nicknames for the newbies. We started with Saint Dennis with how eager you were. Now it’s just devolved.” Dennis believes it, but he spots a tinge of red on the man’s ears.

“I’ve become an angel in one night?”

Abbot claps him on the back now that Dennis has found his footing, then notices his coat upside down and grins. “A stupid one, I suppose.” Dennis doesn’t hate the teasing, and finds himself smiling too. When was the last time he’d been able to think of anything but Robby— of Langdon? Of their stupid secret love affair of whatever weird kink the two have going on? His face falls dramatically.

The hand on his back bumps him again, jostling like he’d done so earlier by his shoulders. “If nights are too hard for you, I could talk to Robby-“

“No! No, Robby has enough on his plate.” Dennis bites it out, sour on his tongue at what he’s implying. Abbot searches his face and Dennis can’t help but let him.

Whatever he finds, he just nods once. “Alright. Then let me drive you home.”

“No I’m okay-“

“Get in the car.”

“Yeah, yup.”

They share a quiet laugh at his continued embarrassment of himself, and Abbot guides him by his collar to his car.

Dennis forgets all about Robby for a moment, even forgets his water bottle sitting at his station.

Robby jogs out the front door, holding the grey bottle in his hand and searching for Dennis in the parking lot. He sees Abbot hold his front door open; spots Dennis crawl inside with a smile.

Robby can’t do anything but watch them drive away.

Chapter Text

Night shift is amazing.

Dennis’ body has a hard time adjusting to the time change, but other than that, he really starts to love it. The nurses and doctors are great, Ellis becoming one of his secret favorites with how many Red Bulls she supplies him throughout their shared shifts.

Abbot had been right about muscling through the first week without pushing himself too hard, and by his second, he starts to mellow out to the pace. Less lighting himself on fire and more kindling a steady flame.

Dennis also leans that night shift likes to have fun. They make bets on the most trivial matters: how many calls will Shen deny in an hour, where will we find Ellis asleep during her thirty, how many drops of water will leak from the ceiling in the lobby. The last is the worst by far, and yet the one people take the most serious. Dennis somehow wins, betting on two and a half buckets full by the end of their shift and he sweeps. They vow to pay for his drinks when they go out, which apparently meant right after shift.

Their fun stretches outside of shift in every shape and form. Shen does the most dangerous form of snowboarding Dennis has ever seen. Ellis likes cage fighting and the grainy videos she shows him are accompanied by “don’t tell anybody.” Though she laughs it off, Dennis thinks she’s probably serious.

Abbot, however, remains a complete mystery to him. He’s always professional and quick and probably one of the greatest doctors Dennis has ever shadowed in his life— but he’d never tell the man lest his ego inflate him to the moon. The only time he can glimpse into the man’s more normal habits, is when they all go out drinking.

He’s invited out to the bar after he’d won the leaky pipe bet, and though it is a Friday, it’s still eight in the morning when they get off work. When Dennis says as much, Ellis swings a heavy arm around his shoulders and he tries not to buckle under the weight; she’s definitely a fighter. “Oh don’t worry your saintly head. We know a place.” She says dramatically like she’s batman or something and it makes him laugh and inevitably follow after them.

They end up at a bar Dennis has never seen before. They have to take a flight of stairs into the ground, then past a sketchy, industrial door covered in graffiti. He almost thought they were about to be caught trespassing, but the door opens up to a dark toned lounge with velvet barstools and shitty drinks. Apparently it’s a pretty famous bar in Pittsburgh, not that Dennis has any reason to know that, because it’s open 24/7 and doesn’t smell like piss. A low bar, but Dennis still appreciates the warm smell of citrus in its place.

With about seven of them crowding inside, the bartender recognizes them immediately and devolves into a conversation with Shen. Dennis thinks they must come here often, also given how they find a booth in the back and take seats like they’re assigned.

Dennis stands by the table awkwardly, not really sure where to go, or what he’s even doing here.

Abbot’s hand finds the back of his shirt collar and lays it flat there, kneading firmly at the muscles of his neck. “Let’s find our little winner a drink.”

“Isn’t it kinda early to be drinking?” Dennis asks as Abbot leads him to the bar by his grip on him. He laughs, soft and real.

“Of course not. Just because it’s morning for them doesn’t mean it is for us.” He doesn’t expand on who “them” is, but Dennis can assume he’s referring to normal people who work normal people hours.

As they make it to the bar, Shen and the woman finally break conversation in favor of taking all of their orders. She doesn’t say anything before punching in several different drinks like she knows exactly what everyone wants without asking. The woman turns to Dennis with a questioning look.

Dennis doesn’t know why, but he looks to Abbot and finds him staring back, then Abbot tilts his head just slightly when their eyes meet. Dennis silently pleads for help, and Abbot nods.

“Two shots. Oh, and a Guinness to soften the blow for our angel here.” Dennis’ head jerks in betrayal. Abbot, the ever asshole, smirks over the rim of his beer.

The nice lady pushes his drinks over and Shen takes the rest of the groups back to the table. Abbot waits, casually leaned up against the bar and watching Dennis put a shot glass between his fingers.

Dennis glares at him over the glass, “You’re an ass.” Is the only thing he can think of before he shoots it back. Without sparing a second, he takes the other and he can hear Abbot laughing into his drink.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Dennis puts the Guinness to his lips and tries to mask the hand sanitizer taste of vodka with the heavy yeast of a Guinness. He can’t think of what to respond, so he continues to glare at his attending who looks entirely unaffected. If anything, he’s wearing a soft, endeared smile. Then, Abbot reaches a hand out and swipes some foam off his lip with his thumb. It takes every bone in Dennis’ body not to take it into his mouth with how long it lingers there.

Abbot is still staring at his lips as he finally pulls his hand away, then wipes it off on Dennis’ shirt like the little shit he is.

Dennis says as much and punches the man’s arm. Abbot pretends to be injured by it, then swings his hand back to that spot on Dennis’ back, right at the base of his neck and where his shirt meets skin, and guides him back to their table, then veers. “How about a game of pool?”

The night shift crew, he figures quickly, are as adrenaline chasing as he is— though they cope with it much better than he does clearly, as none of them appear to be sleeping with their boss. Still, they circle around a pool table, two on each team, and place absurd wagers.

“Shen, if you break and the purple stripe goes in, nothing else, I’ll pick up your next Thursday shift.” Ellis offers, beer in hand, hip against the pool table.

Shen has his hand out before he can take a breath, “Deal.”

When he inevitably gets no balls in on his break, everyone devolves into more and more impossible wagers.

“Ricochet the five off the nine and into the back corner pocket and I’ll give you two hundred bucks.”

“Take the shot and skull your beer before it goes in and I’ll wear two left shoes all shift tomorrow.”

“Flip your pool stick, spin around twice, take the shot with one eye closed, and if you make it I’ll take every foreign object up the ass patient you get for a month.”

Even with about a 99% lose rate on all of the bets, Dennis can’t help but get excited for each one, like just maybe this one will hit. And as the stakes keep getting higher, the idea of one actually winning becomes funnier. Or maybe it’s the second Guinness that’s making everything funnier.

With heavy curtains covering the bar windows, Dennis forgets it’s even day time, or the exhausting shift he’d just had as the time ticks closer to eleven in the morning.

In the end, a five dollar wager at the beginning of the night in favor of a scratch is the only winner of the night, but Dennis can admit it’s the most fun he’s had in years.

Suddenly aware that he is borderline drunk nearing noon is a worrying thought, and Dennis struggles to read his phone map without closing one eye to find the nearest bus route.

“None of that.” His phone is snatched away and Dennis can only weakly flounder for it before giving up as Abbot pockets it. “C’mon, I’m parked around the corner.”

Dennis, having received a number of rides home from the man by now when their schedules allow it, follows without protest. Ellis snags a half hug on his way out with a hard pat on his shoulder that has him masking a shake of his knees from the strength.

He had a stupid smile on his face their whole walk to the car, now keenly aware of the sun bearing down on them. It’ll be hard to eventually leave night shift, that much Dennis knows.

That first bar trip must have been a rite of passage, as Dennis is now fully immersed into the night crew’s more unsavory habits.

He learns that their horrible bet-making can extend to patients.

“Fifty bucks it’s sick cell.”

“You’re on.”

Dennis hears Ellis offer to a nearby nurse as they leave a patient’s room.

There’s even a section of whiteboard in the break room dedicated to tallying every coffee Shen has in a day, and a bowl of money beneath it attached to sticky notes with people’s bets.

“You guys are a bunch of gamblers.” Dennis admits one night to Abbot, tired and honest and a tad concerned. They’d just spent an hour coding a guy and though it’s still up in the air if he’ll make it, Dennis feels his feet still on the ground and doesn’t let himself get flitted away in the rush of it all. He’d found Abbot after, finishing the guys T sheet in the now empty trauma room.

Abbot stills for a second, then has to laugh into his fist. Dennis watches the smile behind his hand. “Yeah, yeah we are. Makes the time fly I suppose. It keeps us sane at least.”

“I wouldn’t really say sane is the right word.”

They stare for a moment, just grinning, and Dennis is slowly getting addicted to this; the tantalizing back and forth with his attending. He likes that Abbot doesn’t seize the moment in favor of an easy win or messy one offs in storage closets— though at this point he would take anything— Dennis prefers the chase. Whether or not he’ll ever be caught is the question. Maybe Dennis is reading too much into this. Abbot is just a perfectly normal, happening to be very attractive, new boss.

Abbot shakes his head and flicks Dennis right between his eyebrows. “Get back to work, angel.” Abbot walks off and Dennis rubs the sore spot on his forehead, but wonders if that nickname sounds as sweet on anyone else’s tongue— wonders how it tastes.

Dennis pitches the idea to Trinity one night that they both have off. They’d gotten biweekly Saturdays in their favor, and though neither will admit to requesting it off for each other, they reap the rewards anyhow.

“Is Abbot hot?”

Trinity chokes on the dinner Dennis had just made for them, her first home cooked meal that wasn’t heated up left overs Dennis made for her. “Ew, what the fuck?”

Dennis pulls his knees onto the couch and shrugs, like he isn’t asking some very anti-HR questions atop their pink couch. “I don’t know. Just been thinking about it recently.”

“About how hot Abbot is?” Trinity tries to tease him but just saying the words is a struggle.

“I’m serious! I can’t tell if I’m just thinking too much about Robby and I’m mixing the two up.” He’s quiet when he admits it. Dennis hasn’t mentioned Robby once since moving to night shift, nor has Trinity. Like a black hole in both of their stories, they dodge the subject in favor of Dennis not falling in. It’s not like he’s heard from him since their last night in his truck.

Even just the reminder of that night has him slouching further and further down into the cushions.

Trinity groans. “Who cares! If you think Abbot is hot or you want to suck his dick or whatever- agh, gross.” Dennis sputters in his defense that he’d never said that, but Trinity keeps going, “All I know is being away from Robby has been good for you, and if Abbot helps with that too, then good! I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is I can’t jump from attending to attending when I clearly have something wrong going on up here.” He taps the back of his fork to his temple. Trinity rolls her eyes.

“Don’t we all? I could tell you all about my mommy issues and how it makes me want to jump Ellis’ bones-“

“Oh yuck.”

“You started it.”

Dennis sighs, loud and dramatic. “We are so fucked.”

Trinity shoves him by the head as she gets up to put her dish away. “Technically not yet we aren’t.”

Dennis’ fork clatters on the ground as he tries to throw it at Trinity’s back and misses by a mile.

The bar visits stay frequent over the next two weeks, and the times he sees Robby remains a whopping zero. He doesn’t reach out, no matter if his phone has to be genuinely locked away by Trinity on the bad nights.

On the good ones, he goes out.

Finding hookups during the hours of eight AM and six PM leaves him high and dry for a longer spell than he’s used to. Now, without the brunt of med school breathing down his throat, that extra free time really doesn’t help. So the bar trips take up his time and he tries to go out whenever they offer.

Dennis doesn’t drink every time, mostly he just plays pool or darts or listens to Ellis ramble on about her recent trysts— a new development that when vaguely shared to Trinity, had his roommate begging for details that he would not provide.

The amount of people going out each time dwindles. It’s mostly Dennis, Shen, Ellis, and Abbot at the end of the day, but even they don’t go everyday; though in his defense, neither does Dennis. He does have somewhat of a life.

Still, he doesn’t realize it’s just him and Abbot one night until they’re ordering drinks, and Dennis swivels his head around in search of other coworkers. No dice.

Abbot is good company, Dennis can’t complain. But he’s also hot, and Dennis hasn’t been laid since Robby-

“Another shot please.”

Dennis gets progressively drunker throughout the night while Abbot nurses one beer as usual, but he thankfully doesn’t seem bothered by the rambunctious nature that becomes of him.

“Damn it!” Dennis doesn’t even hit the ball with his cue, so dizzy he lays his head down on the green felt with an embarrassed groan, then a laugh. Abbot’s hands grip his shoulders and pull him up.

“Atta boy, c’mon. Let’s find you a seat.” Abbot plops him down into a booth, but doesn’t go around to the other side, sitting down right beside him. Dennis won’t accept nor deny that he leaves very little space for the man, making so their hips down to their knees are pressed together.

Dennis drops his chin into his hand, elbow on the table holding the weight of his head. “I promise I’m not an alcoholic.”

Abbot chuckles. “Never said you were.”

“Yeah but you’re looking at me like I am.” Dennis pouts. Since when does he pout?

Abbot lets his chin fall into his hand similarly, facing him and leaning in. Enough to make Dennis feel like it’s just them in this run down speakeasy. Abbot reaches forward and pinches Dennis’ chin between his forefinger and his thumb, jostling him softly. It pulls smile on both of their faces. “I think you’re a kid who’s dealing with a lot right now.”

Dennis startles.

He searches Abbot’s face for how much the man really knows, probably more than he’s been letting on. “Do you know about Robby?” He voices his question soft and hesitant, but vague enough he could backtrack if he needed.

But Abbot doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “I’ve known the man since college, you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.” That playful smirk is back on his face and Dennis swats his hand from his face. Abbot chuckles, and drops his hand down to Dennis’ knee instead. “Yeah, I know about what happened. But not everything,” He tacks on the last part as Dennis clearly begins to panic.

“God this is so embarrassing.” Dennis drops his face into both of his hands now with a groan. Abbot presses his thumb against his kneecap and the pressure steadies the blurry mess that is Dennis’ head right now. Too much alcohol to be having a conversation like this, he supposes. Still, he treads on. “I don’t just sleep with my bosses or something, I don’t! I didn’t get any special treatment and Robby had no part in my acceptance-“

Abbot is shushing him softly, “Hey, hey it’s okay. I never thought any of that, angel.” The methodical rub of his thumb soothes Dennis into nodding. “Robby’s got a sort of… pull to him. You’re not an idiot for following.”

His head snaps up. “So he does this sort of thing a lot?”

“Woah, well I wouldn’t say that-“

“Because I knew there was something weird going on with him and Langdon.”

“Well-“

“I knew it!”

Abbot is shaking his head with a laugh. His hand never moves further up his leg, just a constant pressure on his knee and Dennis appreciates it immensely. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t exactly say nothing.”

Abbot shrugs in defeat, caught and unwilling to defend a lie. “You said there’s something go on with them now?”

Dennis nods sadly, the alcohol swinging his emotions around wildly. “I think so.” Abbot nods, listening, waiting. Dennis sighs, overly honest to the open man in front of him. “Me and Robby weren’t even together, I don’t think. We just- well. I really don’t want to give my boss all the gory details.”

Abbot laughs again, gentle and cool. “I get it. Not sure if I wanna hear it either.” Dennis reasons it’s because he doesn’t want to hear about his college friend having sex— and not because he doesn’t want to hear about Dennis having sex with someone else.

Else? They haven’t even slept together, Dennis mentally chastises himself.

“Okay well, Langdon is back now and they’re totally sleeping together!” He pauses, “I think.”

“You think.”

“Well, they keep like, beating each other up or something.”

Abbot chokes on his beer. “What?”

Dennis reddens. “I don’t know! They like, beat each other up or something then have sex. Or they have sex while beating each other up?” Dennis groans for the nth time. “I’m too drunk to think.”

Abbot shakes his head in albeit subdued shock. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Yes.” Dennis answers before he can think about the repercussions. What if it’s an answer he doesn’t want to hear?

The hand on his leg squeezes like it’s bracing Dennis, grounding him as Abbot speaks. “I can’t speak about right now, I barely see Robby as it is.” He hesitates, scratches the back of his head. “But those two have been… odd, for a while. A lot longer than you’ve been here.”

“How so?”

Abbot shrugs, like he doesn’t want his answers to become the definitive, even though they most likely are. “Argumentative, at first. Then I’d go out with Robby sometimes and he’d have nail scratches all down his neck, his arms even. Or bruises on his jaw and cut open lips.” It sounds so familiar it starts to make Dennis sick. “It went on for months but Robby wouldn’t budge. He told me he can handle himself and I believed him. Still, believe him.” He rectifies quickly, but the mistake lingers. “Either way, it all stopped when Langdon left. An idiot could put two and two together.”

Dennis tries to swallow all the information down like a pill stuck in his throat. Though it feels better to know he couldn’t have stopped this if he wanted, it still makes him feel less than. Like he was nothing more than a plaything for Robby in between his time with Langdon. That sickness came back up into his throat. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Abbot has him lay his head back against the booth and grabs him some water. Dennis chugs the thing, then slows when Abbot tells him to.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.” Dennis admits, thinking life really can’t get any worse than this; getting drunk and upset of his ex who is also his boss, then telling it all to his current boss, who is friends with his ex. The round about messiness of it all makes him dizzy again and he chugs more of the water.

“No, hey you’re fine.” Abbots voice is so soothing, he feels like a patient.

The idea has him grinning evilly, like a switch flipped, he imagines the doctor at his bedside, all careful and helpful and tending to his every need. All of his needs- “What’s going on in that little head of yours?”

Dennis chokes on a hiccup as he laughs. “Nothing. Imaging you as my doctor.” If he’s this honest while drunk, he ought to never be interrogated. Clearly a few shots is enough to have him spilling every secret he’s ever had since the fourth grade.

Abbot raises an eyebrow at him, luckily non-offended but almost curious, and wanting. He takes the tone switch easily, “Yeah?”

Dennis nods, his hair messing up against the leather of the booth where his head lays, turned and facing Abbot like he’s drawn to him. “Mhm. Dr. Abbot saving me from complete humiliation.”

A cool hand reaches and tucks a stray curl behind his ear, then stays there, cupping the edge of his jaw with the frame of his palm. Dennis presses into without a second thought.

He swears he sees something flash in Abbots eyes, something starved.

“How about I get you home, angel. And you work on calling me Jack, not Dr. Abbot.”

Dennis shakes his head but has to stop to avoid the spinning. “I’ll call you Jack once you call me Dennis, not angel.”

Abbot leans forward, silently searching his eyes for a moment, then two. “Do you want me to stop?”

Dennis doesn’t know if he’s talking about the nickname or something else, but he shakes his head either way with a soft, “No.”

They’re still for a beat, sitting so close in a familiar bar and Jack’s hand on his face, Dennis swears he isn’t imagining things.

And yet, whatever he’d expected to happen, doesn’t. And Abbot pulls away and steps out of the booth.

Still, he reaches out and helps Dennis out too, then holds him steady with an arm around his waist. Dennis doesn’t need steadying, but he doesn’t tell him that.

True to his word, Abbot walks him out to his car— a black, sleek, non flashy one he doesn’t recognize even after being in it a million times— and helps him into the front seat. He even goes as far as buckling him in.

Dennis huffs, Abbot still reaching over him for the buckle. “I’m not a child.”

Abbot freezes, but slides the buckle in with a click. He doesn’t move out of his space, squinting at him with a cocky look that Dennis is glad he’s sitting down for. “You’ve really gotta stop putting words in my mouth, doll.”

Abbot leaves with him that, shutting the door behind him, only the cloud of his delicious smelling cologne left in his wake. Like pine and something rougher.

The driver door opens and Abbot steps in, starts the car, and heads to Dennis’ apartment without needing an address. Dennis can’t seem to sit still, fidgeting and pressing his thighs together. No other drive home has ever felt like this, but maybe Dennis is imagining it.

When he spares a glance in Abbot’s direction, his hand on the wheel is clenched, the other on the gear shift more so— white knuckled and thumbing the gear-change engravings on top. Maybe he’s not imagining it.

Dennis chews on his lip the rest of the way home and sits on his hands to avoid doing something stupid.

The car slows to a park outside his apartment steps, and Dennis undoes his seatbelt but doesn’t leave yet. Abbot doesn’t seem to be in a rush either.

They sit there for a moment, neither of them doing anything, the radio playing something soft and low he can’t distinguish, the heaters flushing warm air down Dennis’ neck.

Then, without a single self-preserving thought, Dennis leans over the center console and kisses him.

Jack’s lips are warm and pressing, but Dennis gets barely a moment to appreciate them before a hand on his shoulder is gently, but firmly, pushing him back.

Despite the look in Jack’s eyes and the clear restraint in his hands, he shakes his head minutely. “I’m not a good rebound, kid.”

The term feels worse than the rejection, though he doubts it’s purposeful.

Dennis nods and tries to shake off Abbots hand. It falls away without any fight. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m so sorry Dr. Abbot.”

“Angel-“

“No, no I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday.” Dennis avoids the man’s eyes his whole way out of the car. Doesn’t even look back as he waves goodbye, shut the car door and basically runs back to the safety of his apartment.

He falls back into the front door as soon as it closes, slides down it with a groan of absolute and complete mortification.

Trinity, who he’d forgotten would be home right now, pads over to him. Dennis looks up, and she’s staring down at him with a bowl of cereal in hand and a seriously judgy look.

“What’d you do this time?”

Chapter Text

Dennis decides to be better than some of his more recent running-away incidents and face his mistake head on. Yes he’d kissed his boss. No this wasn’t even the first boss he’s kissed at this job. Yes he wants to do it again, and no he will not be saying that.

He’d spent the weekend wallowing again. Trinity tried to take him out again, to a gay bar way out of town. She’d dressed him up, got Victoria to come, it was great. Dennis didn’t drink and pushed off every advance that came his way, which Trinity pointed out was highly counterproductive to the point of their night out, but Dennis didn’t want to make another fool of himself. Besides, the taste of Abbot was still singed on his lips, and he didn’t want it erased so easily.

Trinity gets picked up by a lesbian that looks a lot like Ellis— definitely no correlation there— and he and Victoria end up on the dance floor alone most of the night, giggling and flailing around more than dancing.

It gets his mind off the absolutely, massively embarrassing mistake he’d made the night before, but it all floods back once he’s back at the apartment. With only the one day off, he doesn’t get to run from reality much longer.

Trinity had bullied him through the front doors of the Pitt and bribed him with two Red Bulls if he happened to make it out alive without tripping on a banana peel or something equally likely to happen to her painfully unlucky roommate.

But Dennis is an adult. He’s a grown adult and a Doctor, a good one at that, and he can face his hot boss and apologize like a normal adult would.

“Good morning, angel.” Jesus Christ.

Abbot sneaks up on him as soon as he’s clocked in. It’s become a habit of theirs at this point. He looks relaxed and entirely unbothered over what had kept Dennis up all night the last two days. “It’s not morning.” Is all Dennis says.

Abbot rolls his eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” He tucks something into his hand and Dennis shakes when their fingers brush but hides it well.

“What is this?”

“How about you open it and see, dummy.”

Well, he got him there. It’s Dennis’ turn to roll his eyes but he does as he’s told, and he opens the small wrapped package to find, “Is this my own ring?”

Abbot laughs. “Yeah. You left it in my car.”

“So instead of just texting me, you put it in wrapping paper, with a bow? Something I already own?”

The man shrugs, a faux bashful look on his face, like he’d actually given him some heartfelt present. “What can I say, I’m pretty great at this whole courtship thing.”

What.

Dennis is sure his mouth drops open comically, because the man just laughs again. Then, with a whole step forward, right in the middle of the hall, hooks his finger under Dennis’ chin and pushes it closed for him. “Are you busy after work?” Dennis can’t speak, can’t remember the English language. He shakes his head slowly. Abbot grins, a slow, smirking thing. “Good.” And he leaves.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Trinity echos, half concealed by a curtain in the room behind him. Dennis jumps half a foot in the air at her appearance. She ignores it completely and pounces on him, way too close and investigating every inch of Dennis like she’s looking for clues.

Dennis finds his head again and slaps her hands away. “Aren’t you supposed to be going home?”

“Aren’t you supposed to not being fucking another one of your bosses?”

Dennis shushes her loudly, and looks around to see if anyone was listening. Given the state of an average ER, it’s safe to say there’s more important things going on. “I’m not sleeping with anybody-“

“Oh yeah then what was with all that…” Trinity waves her hands around in weird, vague gestures that Dennis hates to say he understands exactly what she means. “Did you even apologize yet?”

“No. Not like he gave me much of a chance, anyways.” Dennis waves the ring in his hand. It really is his favorite and he’d been sad he’d lost it a week or so ago. He slips it into his scrub pocket for now with a smile.

“Ew, don’t make that face again.”

“What face-“

Trinity fakes a gag and starts stepping away. “I’m gonna go finish my charting and find Ellis before I go. Maybe get her to say more than five words to me.”

Dennis rolls his eyes, then yells out after her as she leaves, “Good luck with that!”

Trinity rounds the corner with a parting middle finger just for him.

Dennis laughs it off and makes his way towards central to start his day.

“Dennis.”

His feet stick to the ground like a pair of weights shackled to his ankles. The familiar timber and calloused voice shoots electricity down his spine against his will, and he turns his head slow towards the direction of the sound.

Dr. Robby is standing tall and imposing a mere five feet away. They’re still in the relatively empty hallway he was in before, but the lack of people now feels suffocating.

“Hey, sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time?” The doctor looks the same as last. Ruffled hair, crooked stethoscope, and a halfway healed crack in his bottom lip.

Dennis has to shove his clenched fists in his pockets, making crescent shaped indents in his palms. He doesn’t respond.

Robby clears his throat through the awkward air. “I just wanted to check in on you. See how nights are treating you.”

“Fine.”

The word is a struggle to get out. It’s curt and snipped, but his tone doesn’t waver, which is a win enough.

Robby tries to wade through the sea of tension separating them. “Good, good.” He takes a step forward. “Look, I just wanted to see if we could talk, tonight maybe-“

“I’ve got plans.”

Robby stops midstep and doesn’t advance further. He nods. “Of course, I didn’t mean to assume-“

“What do you want?” Dennis interrupts again. His patience wearing thinner as he catches sight of a purple, fading bruise peaking out of the collar of his scrubs. It’s makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

The attending sighs, rubs the sides of his neck with each hand, his polished ruse falling. “I don’t know.”

It’s probably the most honest he’s been in months, if not ever. A small part of Dennis, he can admit, wants to step closer. Wants to fall back into him and into familiar sweatshirts in that comfortable brownstone filled with soft music.

But he thinks of their last time in the truck. Of Langdon. He clenches so hard his fingernails draw blood in his palms.

“Let me know when you figure that out.” Dennis turns on his heel and walks away.

He unintentionally flies past central, spotting a free curtain room on the board and heads there. Dennis shuts the curtain behind him, and his hands are shaking as he tries to grab supplies to clean up his hands.

“Fuck!” The kit falls from his hands and he feels like his entire body is vibrating. He’s breathing hard and heavy as he crouches to grab the spilled supplies off the floor.

And just his luck, it’s Abbot who finds him there.

Albeit him and a nurse and a patient holding what looks to be a broken arm. “Dr. Whitaker? What’re you-” Abbot trails off as he spots the blood smeared across his hands, and the doe eyed, watery look in his eyes as Dennis is crouched there, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “Nora, do you mind taking Mr. Stevenson down the hall for me.” The nurse nods and guides the man away. Abbot pulls the curtain closed behind him.

Dennis is near inconsolable at this point, panic up to his ears. “God, I’m so sorry Dr. Abbot. I just wanted to find- this. No it fell, well I dropped it and I’ll clean it up-“

A pair of hands cup each side of his face and guide his eyes to meet Abbots. They’re close, and the attending takes a deep breath. Dennis follows without being told.

They do it again, then twice more. Another to be safe.

Dennis nods his head once. It’s not fully subsided, but the panic is splashing at his ankles now and less pushing down his throat.

Abbot softly pinches one of his ears before he pulls his hands from his face, but he doesn’t go far. He sticks both hands under his arms by the pits and lifts Dennis up to his feet and plops him down on the patient bed. Dennis accidentally squeaks on the take off, and can feel himself go beat red liked he’d just spent a day in the Nebraska sun.

Abbot doesn’t comment on it, but the smug twitch of his lip says enough.

The man crouches down and picks up the rest of what Dennis had dropped, then throws them away due to obvious contamination. He sits there, silently waiting for Abbot to leave after that, but he doesn’t. Instead, the telling sound of latex gloves being snapped on has Dennis perking up again.

“You don’t have to-“

“I know.” Abbot grabs a nearby rolling stool with his foot and swings it around, then sits down on it, rolling it closer until he’s right between Dennis’ legs. With his lower chair, it’s the first time Dennis has the pleasure of looking down at Abbot— more so, he gets to see Abbot look up at him. It’s borderline pornographic, the way he looks up through his lashes, half covered by his brow bone leaving a dark shadow across his eyes, huge and dilated and Dennis wants to fall right into them. “Let me help you.”

Whatever Doctor fantasy Dennis had thought up once upon time does not amount to the real thing before him. He nods a tad overzealously. Abbot pinches his outer thigh at the obvious thoughts going through Dennis’ head right now, and starts breaking open some anti-septic wipes.

Dennis hisses at the pinch, but revels in the contact more than he should. “You treat all your patients like this?” He tries to tease, but his voice is still wet and residually shaking from earlier. Abbot, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it.

He just huffs a laugh and presses the wipe down into Dennis’ palm without warning, earning another hiss of pain. “Only the bad ones.”

Dennis chews the inside of his cheek at the thoughts that flash through his mind at the comment. Given the evil glint in Abbot’s eye, it’s obviously a shared one.

Abbot, ever the thorough Doctor, goes through every step and more in cleaning his albeit minor wounds, going as far to clean under his fingernails where the dried blood lived. They’re silent the rest of the time, just Abbots cold, latex covered hands pressing and holding Dennis firmly, taking deep breaths throughout as if to keep Dennis on pace when he forgets.

When he’s done, he lays two bandaids, one pink and one blue, across the crescent wounds.

So slowly, as if giving Dennis a chance to pull away, pulls both hands to him one at a time. Then, he presses a warm kiss into each palm, right atop the colorful cotton covers.

Abbot doesn’t break eye contact with him as he does so, lets Dennis watch him linger there before moving to the next. Dennis swallows hard, and his breath picks up for unrelated reasons this time.

When both his hands fall back to his thighs now, Abbot’s hands follow, offhandedly thumbing against the inside of each of Dennis’ wrists. Dennis lets him, enjoys the tender touches and the soft look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Abbot shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. People hurt themselves, we drop things. We all have our moments where we need help.” Abbot doesn’t ask why he’d needed the help, or how he’d hurt himself. It’s the simplest act of kindness, but Dennis holds it very close to his heart either way.

“No, I mean. For trying to kiss you. In your car the other night.” It’s what Dennis had planned to say first thing this shift. He didn’t want to run away from this, not because of his own embarrassment, and certainly not because of Robby.

Abbot’s eyes widen a tad, then he shakes his head with a grin. His thumbs trace up to the bandaids he’d just kissed on Dennis’ hands. “Have I somehow given you the impression that it was a mistake?”

“You pushed me away-“

“You were drunk.”

“-and you said I shouldn’t rebound with you.”

Even retelling the words sends an awful chill down his spine, humiliating but he has to face it.

Abbot shakes his head again, that all knowing smile still stuck on his face. Dennis would hate it if it didn’t look so good. “No, I said I don’t make for a good rebound. It’s different.”

“Nuh uh.” The sheer childishness of his response is not lost on him, and he blushes down his neck when Abbot breaks into a loud laugh. “I’m serious!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, you’re right.” Abbot is smiling, bright and unguarded and still holding Dennis’ hands in his. “What I mean to say, is that I’m not a good rebound because I don’t like letting go of something once it’s mine.”

Dennis swears a shiver runs down the back of his neck, crawls its way down his elbows, down to the backs of his knees.

He can’t think of a reply, of anything really. How often Abbot stuns the words out of his head really should be concerning.

The man, ever egotistical, doesn’t waver. Instead, he stands off the stool and lets the thing roll away with a bang into the wall behind him. Then he leans close, now towering over him, and presses his lips right to the corner of Dennis’, no more no less.

Dennis can’t help the soft, whimpered sigh that slips out. Abbot pulls only a few millimeters away like it’s all he can bear, and whispers, low and rasped, “Meet me at my car after work.”

Abbot tries to press another teasing kiss just out of Dennis’ reach, but Dennis turns his head just in time to catch the full weight of the man’s lips on his before he can. The resulting groan Abbot releases against his lips is reward enough, and Dennis threads his injured hand up into the man’s grey curls and pulls him closer.

Abbot lets him, but only for a few seconds before he’s breaking away, then pinching him by the ear like he had earlier, harder this time. Dennis yelps in pain dramatically, and Abbot just pinches him again in retaliation.

Dennis bites at his own bottom lip, tasting the attending there. Abbot stares down at it, watches him like a man starved. But he restrains, even works up a glare as he steps out of Dennis’ grasp. “Patience, angel.”

He nods like he’ll actually listen to him. Abbot flashes a proud smile, masking the dripping hunger behind it, but Dennis catches it anyways. Abbot pulls the curtain back and holds it there for him like a gentlemen holding open a door. Dennis rolls his eyes at the cheesy act of chivalry but walks past with a quiet thank you. When he turns his head, he catches Abbot staring at his ass as he walks away.

Chivalry my ass.

The day could not crawl any slower than this. The lingering promise of… something with Abbot afterwards has Dennis buzzing like a live wire. So much so, he only drinks one energy drink all shift, which for him, is saying a lot.

During his ten, he even texts Trinity, who should be asleep at the ass crack of dawn in which he texts her.

: i think Abbot is making a move or smth

[Trinity]: m gonna throw up why would you text me this

: ?? thought you’d wand an update

: want*

[Trinity]: no i hate you and i hate gay peiple

: 🙄

[Trinity]: aww little amish boy learns how to use emojis

: i was not amish???

[Trinity]: tomato tomato

Despite his idiot roommates antics, he is not deterred in the slightest. Throughout their shift, Abbot continuously brushes against him; trails his hand across his waist when he passes or crashes into him by the shoulder, forcing him to hold Dennis up steady by the hip. Dennis, if he were to guess, has been an awkward shade of pink all day because of it. Ellis even asked if he should go take a break outside, where the nights are still cold in Pittsburgh despite the slow encroachment of Spring.

Dennis had refused under some half assed excuse, he’d blamed Trinity for some bad food she’d given him before work or something. Ellis had actually laughed at the thought, hearty and even inquired on what Trinity had made, and if she was a good cook. Dennis filed that little tidbit away for later— and like the great roommate and wingman he is, offered for her to come over sometime and let Trinity poison her herself. Ellis had waved off the invitation, but said she’d get back to him.

When the hours finally ticked by and it was time for the shift change— despite Dennis’ dying need to get out of here and into Abbots car— he made a pitstop by Trinity’s locker to share how Ellis had so eagerly questioned more about her. Like he’d expected, his roommate rightly freaked out, trying to play it cool but asking a million and a half questions about a ten second interaction to the point that Dennis barely had anything to say.

A soft, interrupting cough came from behind their conspiratorial whispering. They snapped their heads back at the same time, a kind faced Abbot leaning against the hallway entrance raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Trinity all but shoves Dennis two feet away in one push, and Dennis stumbles twice to catch his footing. She turns to face her locker like they hadn’t been talking at all. “He’s all yours.”

Dennis shoots her a pointed look through the mirror in her locker, but she just smiles meanly at him and starts putting her hair up, effectively ending their conversation.

Dennis shakes his head as he approaches Abbot, his strong arms crossed across his chest as he watched him approach, staring down his nose hot and dark and Dennis suspects he wasn’t the only wait counting down the hours until they were free.

“You, uh, ready to go?” Dennis fishes his ring out of his pocket and back onto his finger, fidgets with it under the heavy eyes that watch his every move.

Abbot nods once, then juts his head in the direction of the exit. Dennis moves first, and Abbot’s familiar hand finds its favorite placement on the back of his neck, squeezing and massaging the muscles like every time, but it still springs butterflies in his stomach like he’s a teenager on his first date.

Is this a date?

Dennis honestly doesn’t know what to expect as Abbot holds his car door open for him again. He buckles him in just like last time, despite Dennis now being cold sober and perfectly able to do it himself. Then, Abbot presses a quick kiss to his cheek as he leaves, shutting the car door behind him like he’d done nothing at all. Dennis won’t admit to anyone the sickeningly sweet grin he wears, or how he presses the tips of his fingers to the spot before pulling it away the second Abbot crawls into the driver’s seat.

“Where are you taking me?” Dennis finally gathers the courage to ask. While Abbot may be a chill, relatively sweet guy, he also scares the shit out of him. His seriousness trumps out most of the time, and Dennis still craves his approval at every passing turn.

Now, outside the hospital, it’s definitely easier to approach the man, but God if his resting face doesn't still scare him a bit.

Abbot, like he should’ve suspected, doesn’t reply meanly or scarily at all. Just a cocky smirk and a, “What did I say about patience, doll.”

The forsaken term of endearment that had kept him up for several nights makes its casual return here, and Dennis has to shove his hands under his thighs to keep them still.

Abbot grabs the hand closest to him by the wrist and pulls it out from its hiding spot, then tangles their fingers together like it’s that simple. He supposes it is.

The drive is quiet, the sun bright in the sky and soft music playing from the speakers on a radios station neither of them picked.

The car pulls into the driveway of a small two story house a little out of the way of the business of Pittsburgh. Far enough away that they’ve landed in a sort of suburban, but a tightly built one surrounded by trees and colorful, old brick houses. It’s the most classic example of east coast architecture he’s ever seen. The house is a washed out grey brick with dark blue shutters and an American flag hanging by the front door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out whose it is.

“I’m not trying to be presumptuous here, just figured I could cook you something instead of going out. Given you live with Trinity, I can’t imagine the last time you’ve eaten something you didn’t have to make.”

It’s like he’s not even real. Dennis nods a little emotionally, because it’s true. Since he’d been kicked out of his house, he’d gone from college cafeterias to food banks, and now to cooking for two. Not that he’d ever complain about his incredibly gracious living situation, but he hadn’t even realized how badly he wanted to be taken care of like this until now.

Abbot must catch some of what he’s feeling in his face, because he kisses him on the knuckles before they let go, and holds the car door open for him when he gets out.

The house itself is almost sterile. Like Abbot had seen it on an insider magazine and bought it then and there, then payed extra to keep the staging furniture if only to save him time of finding any on his own. There’s dust on the banister that leads upstairs, and Dennis wonders why an amputee would buy a two story house. He doesn’t voice the question, but as Abbot sits on the stairs to untie his shoes, he answers for him anyways. When had he learned to read Dennis’ mind? Maybe he just feels the need to explain himself.

“My wife wanted a big house. Figured the space would eventually convince me to have kids.” He chuckles at the memory and tosses the shoes off to the side, then slides a pair of slippers on to keep his hard prosthetic from bruising the wood as he walked. “Clearly it didn’t work.”

Wife? “You have a wife?” Oh dear God. How had Dennis never noticed the ring on his finger, black and stark against his skin. More so, how had he never noticed which finger is sat on.

“Had.” Abbot stretches as he stands, then juts his head to the direction of the kitchen. “C’mon. I’m about half as good a cook as I am a Doctor, which isn’t great but better than most.” Ever the egotistical, even after dropping a bomb like that.

Dennis sort of flounders at the absolutely insane information he’d just learned, but tries to follow Abbot’s lead in being casual about it. He leaves his shoes and scrub top by the door leaving him in a white undershirt and socked feet as he pads his way through the front room to the large, open kitchen.

The front room is highly unwelcoming in its formality, tall bookshelves with impersonal books, uncomfortable settees in favor of couches, and a mini grand piano sat by the bay window— that one he can excuse. Dennis can’t help from trailing his finger through the dust atop it, revealing a stripe of shiny black surface beneath.

“Do you play?”

Abbot asks from the kitchen, his voice echoing through the open archways that connect the two rooms. Dennis looks over his shoulder, finds him already watching him from where he’s leaned against the kitchen counters. Dennis turns back with a soft shake of his head. “Used to. Parents wouldn’t let me take lessons. Told me soft hands were no use on a farm.”

Dennis pads his way to the kitchen now, leaving the piano and the memory behind. “Can’t play for shit, myself.” It’s clear he hadn’t bought the thing for himself. “If you want to play, please do. Haven’t heard it in years.” Another unsaid tidbit of information about this widowed life Abbot has been leading. He offers the information so freely, but he knows it’s not without high effort.

Dennis makes his way into the kitchen, a full wall of windows and dark blue cabinets that match the shutters outside. The white granite countertops look legit and Dennis suddenly can’t wait to make attending money one day if all their kitchens look like this.

He slides onto a black velvet barstool for the stretched out island, and gets the perfect view of Abbot in the kitchen, grabbing different ingredients for a meal Dennis doesn’t know. “No thanks. I think I’d need to be drunk to even attempt playing again.” Dennis teases, but Abbot clearly takes him seriously, grabbing a nice bottle of wine from the top shelf and placing it on the counter between them. “I swear I’m not an alcoholic.” Is the first thing Dennis defends about himself in that moment.

Abbot cracks a little laugh, and uncorks the bottle anyways. “I told you to stop putting words in my mouth, angel.” Dennis nods like he’d been reprimanded, and doesn’t miss the flash in Abbots eyes at his obedience.

He pours them both a glass and tells an Alexa he can’t see to play his ‘good playlist,’ whatever that means.

Apparently, it means old music, not that Dennis is complaining. He’d only been allowed non-secular music growing up when his mom was around. But on the few occasions he’d have a night drive home alone with his dad, this was the type of music he’d play, too.

He tells Abbot as much and he chuckles. “Are you trying to say I’m as old as your dad?” Dennis scrambles to backtrack, ensuring that that is not at all what he’d meant, but Abbot finally secedes with a wink. “Only teasing, doll.” Dennis doesn’t think now’s the right time to tell him that his dad is in fact, only older than Abbot by five or ten years, give or take. He finishes his first glass to drown out that thought.

Fleetwood Mac and CCR fill majority of the playlist, softly filling the room and Dennis for once doesn’t feel the need to talk over it. Instead, he gets to sip on smooth wine, hum along to music he actually knows, and watch his stupidly hot attending make him dinner.

Where he expects night to start falling, it never does, as their job has successfully thrown off his circadian rhythm. When he yawns, Abbot pulls the blinds closed and it becomes shockingly dark. He turns on a few lamps atop the counters in favor of the big light above them. “Bought these blinds after I first moved to night shift. Helped my body feel like it’s night time so it’ll wind down properly.” Ever the doctor finding the smartest solutions to a melatonin production deficiency. Dennis mentally files the idea for his own apartment.

When Abbot is finished, it smells like heaven throughout the house, and the plate he slides over to him looks even better. Abbot doesn’t lead him to any sort of dinning room, but instead takes the stool beside him with his own plate and wine glass. “Sorry if it’s bad. Haven’t cooked for anyone in a while.” Another quiet admission, and Dennis can’t help the cheesy smile on his face.

And when Dennis takes his first bite, he genuinely moans. He slaps his hand over his mouth in embarrassment but doesn’t stop chewing. “What the fuck did you put in this?” Dennis has already moved on from his unsavory display of delight in favor of shoveling move food into his mouth. It’s a pasta with steak or something or other, either way it’s probably the greatest thing he’s ever had. Though it’s not quite the compliment coming from a guy like him, raised on beats and soups and more soups, this is like giving an iPhone to a pilgrim. Maybe Trinity was onto something with that whole being raised akin to the Amish thing.

Abbot, for once, actually looks a tad bashful, and takes much more appropriately sized bites. “Same as usual. Don’t gotta put on a show for me.” Abbot winks and tries to distract from his vulnerability with an innuendo. And though Dennis blushes at the thought, he doesn’t let them move on.

“No seriously! Can you give me the recipe? Oh! Or let me take some to Trinity? Actually, maybe not. She’ll never be happy with anything I cook again.” Dennis is rambling but Abbot just watches him, soft amidst his rough demeanor. His free hand falls to Dennis’ knee, just like that night at the bar. Similarly, it’s doesn’t ruin the moment with searching fingers or trailing its way higher. It just sits there under the simple thought that Abbot wants to touch him, nothing more. For once, Dennis doesn’t feel like a body or something to be used. He just feels noticed.

He chokes the idea down with more food, really trying not to make a big deal out of the simple act of a hand on his knee.

When they finish, Abbot doesn’t let him clean up either, really giving him the princess treatment. “You’re, what, two glasses in by now?” Dennis doesn’t know why he asks but he nods, sipping said second. Abbot motions to the piano with a soap covered hand. “Then I believe I am owed a song.”

Dennis is tempted to refuse him, but the piano really pulls for him. So he listens, setting his glass down on the fireplace mantle before sitting down, lest he be an animal and place atop the piano. He always hates it when they do that in movies.

He takes a moment to pull the heavy cover back and admire the untouched, ivory keys. He fiddles with a few of them, just a scale or two to remind his fingers of the movements they’d once practiced secretly in the after hours of their church services, when no one but the Mary painted on the stained glass windows could hear him play.

Rêverie, L. 68 was always his favorite, so he attempts it the best he can. Though he stumbles on most of the notes and swears more than is appropriate for even the half-assed performance he’s giving Abbot right now. Hearing the notes on such a new, pristine piano has him hearing the piece in a light he’d never imagined before. No longer the suppressed, beaten alter boy with no aspirations of living past twenty, now plays the same song as a doctor in the city, far away from his parents and the God-fearing equally.

When he finishes, he doesn’t notice that he hadn’t made a single mistake during the last half, a tear falling from his face before he realizes. A soft finger hooks under his chin and turn his head to face him, Abbot looking so gently down at him, another falls. Abbot catches it, wipes it away with a swipe of his thumb.

Dennis wipes the other with the back of his hand and a wet chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Abbot is watching him so certainly, battling his own array of thoughts in his head.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dennis realizes it’s the first time he’s ever been asked.

“Please.”

And he does, bending down by the waist, Abbot’s lips brush against his like the faintest whisper of a kiss. Dennis is the one to push into it, searching and finally getting what he wants. This time, neither of them pull away.

Abbot runs a hand up his hair, tangles into the curls of his mullet and holds him steady as the kiss deepens. “Abbot-“ Dennis breathes out between their lips.

“Jack.” He reprimands, seals it with a kiss. Dennis curls his arms around his neck and pulls him closer.

Jack drags his knee up onto the piano bench, right beside Dennis’ hip, then tugs at his hair. He takes advantage of the boys gasp to delve inside.

Dennis, despite sitting down, feels weak and lightheaded when their tongues finally meet. It feels crass to be so hyperaware of it, but he hadn’t realized how badly he needed the man to move past the chaste kisses and truly devour him until now. And that’s exactly what he does.

Dennis can barely find a moment to breathe with how thoroughly Jack attacks him, exploring every inch of his mouth and probing at sensitive spots he didn’t even know he had. Still, Dennis doesn’t feel like a party trick to him, but a rare artifact under the careful scrutiny of a preservationist. Or, more likely, a gazelle in the maw of a lion as Abbot finally detaches, only to trail his mouth down his neck.

It’s less teeth and more open mouthed kisses, hot breath and occasionally sucking bruises into his thin skin. He doesn’t tell the man he bruises easily, and actually revels in the idea of leaving here marked and properly claimed.

Dennis has to slap a hand behind him on the piano bench to hold himself steady, his head thrown back and softly panting, quiet moans slipping past his bitten lips when he can’t help it.

When Jack inevitably reaches the barrier of his shirt, Dennis is awarded the hottest look he’s seen on the men yet. Half on top of him, Jack is pressed close against his chest and he’s looking up at Dennis with questioning eyes, hoping for permission as his hands lay at the ready at the hem of his shirt. With a single nod, the white fabric is discarded onto the floor in record time, in which Dennis loses his grip and falls onto his back on the bench.

Dennis chuckles at the impact and Jack starts kissing chastely and teasingly all over his face. “Oh fuck, sorry. Are you okay?” A night full of firsts, apparently. Dennis nods with a genuine smile.

But Jack doesn’t immediately go back to it. Instead, he scrawls his hands through his own hair, suddenly in deep thought as he looks down the splayed out boy before him.

“I don’t want to have sex.”

Oh, ouch?

“No, let me explain first.” Clearly the hurt had flashed across Dennis’ face, as Jack reaches out to hold him by the jaw with each hand, just like he had today behind the curtains. “I want to, very badly.” He’s clearly serious given how he almost stumbles over saying it. Dennis chances a glance down to where Jack is hovered over him, and can see the evidence of that prominent in his scrubs. “But I don’t want to just do it to get it over with. I’m not that kind of guy.”

Dennis nods in half understanding. He doesn’t think he’s ever met a guy who wasn’t exactly that until now. Even Robby fucked him the first chance he got, but he can’t think too much about him when Jack is still hovered over him, hot and staring him down like he’s holding onto his self-restraint by a thread.

“Okay,” Dennis tries to say.

“Okay?” Jack pushes. Like he actually gives a shit about what he thinks. Another revolutionary thought.

“Yeah, I mean. I think it’s very obvious what I want here,” Dennis’ hips twitch and Jack’s eyes flash down in hunger. “But it’s not all I want, either.” He admits more quietly, scared like he’s not allowed to say what he really wants. But it earns him the brightest smile he’s ever gotten out of the stony man, and a warm, lingering kiss for it.

“Good. That being said, I want to take you out. And after a few dates,” Jack rocks his hips down once, hard and slow. Dennis genuinely whimpers, a whiny, high pitched thing. “We can revisit this. Deal?”

Dennis is basically panting with how thoroughly he’s being teased. “Deal.”

Jack nods, like they’d just secured the best case scenario, “Good boy.” Then he taps him twice on the hip, and gets off him like nothing happened, heading back to the kitchen and asking if Dennis wants a refill on his wine.

Dennis faintly mumbles a yes, and drags his hands down his face.

He can’t imagine a single scenario where he makes it out of this alive.

Chapter Text

“Ah- fuck fuck, Jack please don’t stop-“ Dennis grips Abbot’s hair so tight he’s certain he’s hurting him, but the man groans into it. The sound is muffled by Dennis who is stuffed half down his throat.

It’s their third date since the night Abbot had first cooked him dinner. Dennis has tried very, very hard to be “patient,” or whatever, but Jack has made it increasingly difficult.

Their first date out had been a matinee after work, something neither of them had heard any good reviews for and made out during most of like teenagers in the back row.

Their second was at the Carnegie art museum. And although Dennis didn’t know much about art or sculptures or really anything of the sort, he really liked Abbot explaining it to him in soft whispers against his ear as they walked around. Better yet, Dennis liked the first handjob he was finally awarded afterwards for keeping his hands to himself for so long. Though, when he’d reached to return the favor, Jack had refused no matter how much Dennis pouted.

Now, the third date they’d just returned from was probably the fanciest restaurant Dennis had ever stepped foot in. Abbot had requested the weekend off just for this, and Dennis was already off given he was starting back on day shift come Monday. When Dennis saw the place for the first time, he’d nearly begged them to find someplace else. Jack, dressed in a proper white button up and a deep blue tie, even a black blazer for God’s sake, obviously convinced him to stay— looking like that, Dennis seriously considered what he wouldn’t do— under the ruse of: “Yesterday was your last shift with us. Let me treat our angel.”

And for the first time since they’d met, they got to eat dinner together when it was actually dinner time. When Jack had pointed out that fact, Dennis had choked on his far too expensive wine and nearly ruined his only good button up in the process.

The food was good and the service made him feel like a prince, but Dennis can admit he was completely and utterly distracted the by the image that was Jack in a suit. If he thought the man looked good in scrubs, he had to cross his ankles to keep his leg from shaking with badly he wanted to jump that man now, table between them be damned.

Still, he made it the whole way through dinner like a normal, well behaved person would, until halfway through the drive.

Then the cool hand he’d grown to crave so much landed on his thigh, and Jack didn’t so much as look his way before sliding it up, and up while he drove. One hand on the wheel, the other grinding its palm into his student’s crotch, Dennis could only hold onto Jack’s forearm for dear life and bite hard into his lip to keep himself from coming in his suit pants.

He’d barely made it. And as the car finally parked in the attending’s drive way, Jack’s hand pulled away and Dennis panted in relief, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck.

Jack had leaned forward and nipped at his earlobe, then rasped cold and rough in his ear, “My perfect angel, I think it’s time for your reward.”

Dennis had never moved faster in his life.

To which he’d made it halfway through the entryway and tripped when trying to take his shoes off. One successfully clattered to the floor but so did he, and Jack found him splayed out on his back on the staircase.

They’d laughed, but when Dennis went to stand up, Jack had slowly gotten to his knees at the bottom of the stairs, right between his legs, and kissed once at Dennis’ zipper. Then he’d looked up, mouth still hot and open against his suit pants, and purred “Here’s fine.”

Which is where Dennis finds himself now, his pants not even halfway down his thighs in favor of Jack getting his mouth on him as soon as possible.

The first touch of Jack’s tongue against him is instantly addictive. Dennis doesn’t know how up until this point in his life, he’d ever lived without it. It’s not Dennis’ first blowjob by any means, but it’s probably the one he’s had to work for the hardest, which made it all that much better. Maybe Jack was onto something with this whole patience and earning thing.

His mouth is warm and wet and Jack doesn’t withhold himself. It’s like he’s being rewarded too, and he treats Dennis as such. It’s fast and messy and desperate on both parts. Jack is groaning around him, spit soaked lips wrapped tight as he bobs his head quick and low, all the way down til his nose hits the boy’s abdomen.

Dennis, is nothing short of a mess.

He can barely get a grip on the stairs or bannister or anything behind him to hold himself steady. And with the way Jack is pulling and sucking like he’s trying to drag the life out of him, Dennis genuinely thinks he’s going to fall out of his own body. Head thrown back into the uncomfortable edge of the stairs, he can barely feel it as his whole body twitches and spasms against his will. His hips jerk sporadically whenever Jack does that thing with this tongue, pressing and twisting it on the upswing, but his attending never complains at the sudden, choking ruts of his hips.

Dennis can barely think past two inches of his face with how thoroughly he’s being attacked. When he finally has the idea to look down, that’s what does him in.

Jack is already looking up at him, mouth full and moving, his eyes are blown out and his fancy tie is thrown over his shoulder in favor of full, uninterrupted access of the man beneath him. His hands are large and gripping at Dennis’ thighs, splayed out into the flesh making for perfectly painful indents in his skin. And with Dennis’ own hand tangled deep in the man’s curls, Dennis tightens it meanly, just once.

It earns him a muffled, but perfect little whimper from the man, and it send him over the edge.

Dennis doesn’t have the thought to quiet himself before it’s too late, wantonly— and almost assuredly embarrassingly— moaning as his release fills his boss’s mouth. He physically cries out when he feels Jack swallow it down around him, still half down his throat and seizing with over-sensitivity.

It’s only when he hisses in pain and yanks the man by his hair does Jack finally release him with a wet, vulgar pop.

Jack looks fucked out, eyes dazed and fixated on the splayed out Dennis before him. Still on his knees, his mouth is red and spit-slick, tie over his shoulder and hair a mess. It’s damn near pornographic. And though Dennis finished a mere moments ago, the nature of being in his twenties has his dick twitching again just at the image before him.

Dennis gets an idea, and moves before he can overthink it.

Opting for the meaner option, Dennis moves his foot with his shiny dress shoe still on right down on Jack’s crotch. The rough, drawn out groan he gets in return is like nothing he’s ever heard from the man.

Jack grabs him by the ankle with both hands but doesn’t move his leg. If anything, he pushes it down harder.

“Holy shit.” It’s Dennis who speaks, more so whispers under his breath in shock. Jack glares up at him, but rocks his hips into the pressure with a bite of his lip.

“I get you off in under ten minutes and this is how you repay me?” Though they’re biting words, it’s clear Jack is trying to maintain his composure— control, but his voice wavers and it’s clear it’s slipping.

Dennis grounds his foot down again, careful of the heel, he drags it up and down the front of the man’s suit pants. Jack’s lip is clenched hard between his teeth, but the rumbles of his chest as he pants, heavy and charged can’t be missed. He grinds up into each mean press of his shoe, and his hands explore over Dennis’ leg; thumbing the bone of his ankle with one, pushing the slacks up his shin with the other if only to reach any exposed skin he can get his hands on.

When Jack drops his head down, forehead resting on Dennis’ knee, he knows he’s close. “Angel-“

“You did so good for me, Jack.” The man’s eyes shoot open. Whatever Dennis finds when their eyes meet only spurs him on more, drunk with power. “Took such great care of me.” Dennis swears he hears another whimper from Jack, but he hides it well into Dennis’ leg. “So perfect.” He barely knows what he’s saying, doesn’t even know where it’s coming from. But Jack’s hips are jerking quick and dirty against the grind of his shoe, so it must be working. “C’mon, you can finish, baby. You’ve earned it.”

And by some miracle, that works.

Jack’s grip on his leg tightens and he squeezes his eyes closed as his hips stutter with his release. His mouth parted and panting into his leg, the small groans are still deep and rasped no matter how compromised his position is.

When Jack’s eyes crack open again, they’re the darkest Dennis has ever seen. He’s not sure what just happened, but he’s certain he wants a repeat. Preferably as soon as possible given how he’s half hard again.

Jack, despite getting off in his pants in the most demeaning way possible, still has the gall to smile, cocky and slanted against his leg as he detaches his grip there. “Didn’t know you had it in you, angel.”

Dennis chokes on a laugh, covers it with his hand. “Neither did I?”

Jack rolls his eyes, then groans in pain as he pulls himself to his feet, slow and supported by the bannister. Dennis can’t help but giggle, which earns him a glare, which only makes Dennis giggle again, melting Jack into bending down for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, and Dennis sits up to meet him in the middle. He can’t help but chase it when they pull away. “Yeah, go ahead and laugh it up at your old man.”

Dennis does laugh, and Jack pinches him by the ear for it.

He brushes himself off as he finally stands, and struggles in re-buckling his belt with shaky hands. Jack hooks a finger in his belt loop and pulls.

Dennis stumbles closer with a smile. He can’t remember the last time he’d smiled to much for no reason at all. Well, he supposes he knows the reason.

Jack pulls them flush together, like he can’t get close enough. “Why’re you putting your belt back on?”

“I just assumed, since- y’know.” Dennis rocks awkwardly on his mismatched feet.

Jack raises an eyebrow at him, a signature of his and a favorite of Dennis’. “What? We get each other off and you go home?” Dennis nods dumbly.

“Well, when you put it like that-“

Jack shuts him up with a kiss, deep and chastising. Dennis doesn’t care that he can taste himself on his tongue. “Go get changed. I have a spare toothbrush under the sink.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Jack kisses him again, meaner this time, and bites Dennis’ lip as they part. “Ow.” Dramatic and Jack knows it.

“Take whatever you want from my closet. Then, I wanna eat you out before we go to bed. Deal?”

These deals are getting progressively more in his favor.

“Deal.”

Dennis breaks off in a run to do as he’s told. Jack’s laugh fills the room as he leaves.

Getting back on day shift is infinitely harder than the initial switch to nights. Though his circadian rhythm thanks him, every other routine he’d made in those few short months does not.

It’s properly Spring now, and though it’s brighter for longer now, Dennis can’t help but miss the comfort working nights brought him. The fact that he can’t even get the comfort of a setting sun until later and later in the day bothers him immensely.

Still, being surrounded by all the familiar faces and friends he’d made during days is a relief. Dennis can’t think too hard about the faces he left behind without getting physically ill, so he tries not to think about them too much. They, however, will not let him forget.

As he steps in for his first official shift back on day’s— after a perfect weekend off with Abbot, mind you— Ellis and Shen track him down like hound dogs.

“Ah ah ah, and where do you think you’re going?” The tsking of Ellis’ voice reminds him of something he can’t remember. The thought is knocked out of him before he can figure it out, her strong arm hooking around his neck and pulling him close as she ruffles his hair. “Hot shot leaves us to return to the big leagues I see.”

Dennis struggles out of her hold and she lets him. He tries to flatten his hair back to normal but given the amused look on Ellis’ face, he doesn’t fix it very well. “Yeah yeah, y’all are the freaks who chose nights, not me.”

Ellis doesn’t argue with that. “Whatever, your loss.” Still, she takes him through rounds personally, and Dennis wonders if she’s actually gonna miss him.

His idea is solidified when they finish rounds and she stops him before he can go. “Hey, were you serious about that invite?” He cocks his head to the side. “Trinity- Dr. Santos cooking real badly for us sometime.”

Dennis has to fight to remain normal for the sake of Trinity. If he secures this for her, he might just be crowned greatest wingman on Earth. “Oh yeah! How about next week? You don’t work Monday’s right?” Ellis nods, a little surprised Dennis would remember that. Though she’s here for pass off in the morning, Dennis knew her ring hosted tournaments later tonight. “Then come over after our shift, I’ll text you the address. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay, yeah, good, great. I’ll see you then.” And as Ellis walks off, Dennis debates if Trinity isn’t completely delusional about this whole ‘her and Ellis’ thing having a chance. Not like he’d ever tell her that, though.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ellis stumble on her words before.”

Langdon?

Loe and behold, Dennis can’t catch a break even an hour into his shift back on day shift.

To his credit, Langdon looks incredibly nervous— though trying hard not to be, and failing— as he approaches Dennis. They’re in Central, the most neutral ground of the hospital, he supposes, but hearing the man’s voice still grates at his ears. Less so than Robby’s by several leagues, but the hurt he feels lingers either way.

Deep down, Dennis knows there’s technically nothing wrong with Langdon. Him and Trinity have essentially made up via several fights over the few months he was on nights. Though they’re no where near friends or fully forgiven each other, Trinity had opened up to him one night after her shift and several drinks:

“I had an older brother like Langdon. Drugs in the house and never getting better.” She took a long drag of her drink. “I hated him so much I used to wish he’d die.” She laughed harsh and cold, like it isn’t funny at all.

“What happened to him?” Dennis asked.

Another drink. “Got kicked out of the house before I even hit middle school. He moved to some fly over state in the middle of nowhere. Haven’t heard from him since.”

They’d sat in silence for a long time after that. Then, “I think I was just angry that Langdon got the help my brother didn’t.”

It’s been about a month since then, and the two are maybe as good as it’ll ever get. Though the revelation had been greatly beneficial in Trinity attempting to move past all the Langdon shit in favor of becoming a better doctor, it hadn’t been that easy. They still fought constantly and argued over cases and over better care and quicker turn over times— anything and everything. But given where they started, it’s a marginal improvement.

Still, Dennis can’t get himself to like the guy.

He supposes he’s only actually gotten a few chances before he was moved to night shift, and none since his and Trinity's “make up.” Dennis guesses it would make sense for Langdon to extend an olive branch like he is right now, but every bone in his body wants to light it on fire.

Dennis realizes he’s left the man hanging this whole time when Langdon awkwardly clears his throat at his lack of reply.

“So, you invited Ellis over for dinner?”

“Yeah. What, you want an invite too?” Dennis didn’t mean to come off so rude, but it felt so good to get it out.

“No! No, sorry I wasn’t trying to like, eavesdrop or anything-“

“Then leave me alone. That would be a good start.” Dennis takes the iPad for his charts and leaves Langdon hanging.

He knows his anger should be more rightfully directed at Robby rather than the ‘mistress’ for lack of a better term, but Dennis doesn’t care about being right, he just wants to hate them both.

Langdon must have different thoughts on the matter, because from that point forward, he does anything but leave him alone.

“Hey Whitaker, think you could help me with this patient? I could use a good set of eyes on this.”

“Whitaker! Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Dr. Dennis, can I call you that? Come look at this picture of my dog!”

Dear God all mighty, Langdon is the worst.

He’s so happy to be here, and genuinely trying to talk to Dennis and rebuild his burnt bridges and all that jazz, it’s driving him up the wall. It’s to the point that he barely cares that he’s back on shift with Robby too, because at least Robby knows he’s in the wrong. And after Dennis had told him off last time, it’s clear neither of them want to reopen that can of worms, so they stick to work talk only. Professional avoidance if you will.

Can’t Langdon take a hint and be like Robby? Out of the way, and for once, uneventful?

After a week of it, come Saturday— the one time he can see Jack outside of work now— he’d spent the whole night complaining about Langdon before he even realized it was dark out.

“God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking for so long.” Dennis is sideways atop Jack’s bed, legs over his lap as Jack massages his feet. But Abbot just smiles at him, knowing and soft. “What’s that look mean?” Dennis questions, pointed and playfully glaring.

Jack laughs, low and attractive and Dennis barely remembers what he was complaining about in the first place. “Nothing. Just that maybe you could give him a chance.”

Dennis sits up on his elbows to properly convey his shock head on. “What the fuck?”

Jack shrugs in defense, not pausing his hands in their administrations. “I’m not saying you need to forgive the guy, but I think what Trinity did was really brave— and what she’s continuing to do everyday even more so, and you weren’t even the one in his crossfire that first day.”

“He’s having sex with Robby!”

“Are you having sex with Robby?”

Dennis gapes, “Of course not.”

Jack has the gall to shrug again. “Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

Dennis has to sit fully up now. “They slept together while me and Robby were…”

“Were what?”

Silence.

Jack sighs, “Look, angel. I’m not saying you need to suddenly be this guys best friend, in fact, you don’t need to listen to me at all if you don’t want to.” Damn this perfect man, because of course Dennis is going to listen to him. “But I think it could be good for the both of you. For closure, if nothing else.”

Dennis chews on that for a moment, physically chews the inside of his cheek in the process until Jack tells him to stop.

“Fine.” Jack raises his brows like he hadn’t expected him to listen. Dennis smacks him in the chest, soft, but it makes him feel better. “Oh shut up. I’m not doing this for you!”

Jack clearly doesn’t believe his lies and leans in close. Then follows Dennis as his back hits the bed and hovers over him. “Mhm. Whatever you say beautiful.”

The second blowjob Dennis gets at the hands and mouth of Jack Abbot solidifies what a good idea it is to do as he’s told.

Dennis takes it back. He’s never going to listen to Abbot if it’s the last thing he does.

Apparently one blowjob and three handjobs are enough to convince his caveman brain, come Sunday, that speaking with Langdon is in anyway a good idea.

“Hey we need to talk.” Dennis starts off strong, first thing in the morning. Langdon turns his head behind him, then looks around, like there’s no way Dennis is willingly talking to him. When he realizes there’s no one else in the break room, he points a finger at himself in question. “Dear Lord- yes you, Langdon.”

The annoying idiot perks up. “Sure! What’d you need?” Dennis takes a moment to scrutinize and dissect everything he can about the guy. There’s a scabbed up scratch mark hiding under the back edge of his scrub collar, and though it just reaffirms that he and Robby’s… thing is still ongoing, he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he usually would. Maybe this whole working on closure and seeing his other hot boss is really helping.

“You piss me off.” Not quite where he wanted to start, but a start nonetheless. He keeps going despite the way Langdon’s face drops slightly. “You keep wanting to talk to me and show me pictures of your dog and I have to pretend to give a shit and I’m tired of it.” Langdon nods, then opens his mouth to say something but Dennis raises a single finger and he closes it. “I’m not finished.”

Dennis paces their small break room for a moment, sighing as he drags his fingers through his hair. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?”

Langdon doesn’t say anything for a moment, then realizes he has permission to speak, “Nothing?”

“Good, we’re gonna go somewhere or something and we’re gonna talk about this. Like adults. Outside of work for once.” Dennis is horrible at confrontation but he pushes through because he knows Jack is right; he hates Langdon for bad reasons that only make him feel worse.

“Why tomorrow?”

Dennis groans like he’s explaining rocket science to a baby. “Ellis is coming over to my place for Trinity to cook dinner or whatever. And because I’m the perfect wingman, I now have conflicting plans that prevent me from attending, leaving the two of them alone, in an empty apartment, on Ellis’ day off.” He doesn’t need to explain the whole plan to Langdon, but he was pretty proud of himself for the idea.

Langdon looks pretty impressed too. “Uh, yeah okay then. Tomorrow after work?”

Dennis is already walking out of the break room, “That’s what I just said.” As he leaves, he swears he hears Langdon laugh.

With the easy part now over, Dennis expects only smooth sailing from here on out, right?

Dennis had made a little group chat with him, Ellis, and Trinity to break the news of his absence. Though they’d both complained, they kept the plans like he’d expected them to and Trinity texted him privately so say thank you in the only way she knew how: a bunch of cryptic emojis and a picture of a hamster with its tongue out or something. Whatever that means.

He’d also shot a text to Jack as well for the simple reason that he wanted to hear what a good job he’d done. He received a voice memo a couple hours later, Jack absolutely purring about how perfect he is— and Dennis had to take a suspiciously long bathroom break after that, headphones hidden away in his pocket.

Monday night approaches and he knows it’s coming time to finally face Langdon when night shift starts arriving.

Shen gives him a friendly side hug when he sees him and says something about him needing to swap shifts again; which he says every time now. Ellis complains about him bailing on dinner but even Dennis can tell how halfhearted it is. Dennis is just glad he’ll be far away from the apartment for that.

Abbot pulls him away to the bathroom as soon as he arrives and presses Dennis into the tiles for several minutes, making out like school boys with their hands all over each other. It doesn’t go farther than that, but Dennis appreciates it the same, just happy to get his hands back on the familiar planes of his attending.

“I’m very proud of you,” Jack peppers in between kisses across his face. “Text me if you need anything, I’m only working a half shift today.” Dennis raises a brow and Jack almost looks a little embarrassed. “I can admit that you being alone with Langdon with nowhere to run off to didn’t exactly feel… right to me.” Dennis raises them impossibly higher and Jack has to roll his eyes. “It’s fine, I got it requested off the second you mentioned it.”

Dennis laughs, but he thinks it’s terribly endearing. “I do have a home, y’know.”

“Isn’t Ellis staying over tonight?”

Touché.

Dennis just kisses him in response, both smiling more than committing to it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will.” Jack kisses him again. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be waiting for you at home when you’re done.”

Home. Dennis has to fight away the unnamed rush that comes from just one word. The idea of Jack waiting for him, laying in bed with a book, staying up until he gets back has that feeling coming back tenfold, no matter how hard he fights it.

They do, inevitably, have to leave the bathroom. Though they avoid it for as long as possible, they eventually split with a lingering kiss that Dennis thinks about the whole way back to his locker.

He changes out of his scrub top but leaves the bottoms out of necessity, too lazy to plan ahead. He shoulders his bag and makes it to the front doors where he spots Langdon already waiting for him.

The man has the audacity to smile at him as he approaches. “Took you forever! Thought you left me for a minute.” Maybe Dennis and Jack had been in there a little longer than he realized, but he doesn’t say that.

Instead, he just rolls his eyes and starts leading the way to the bar he and the night shift used to frequent.

It surprises Dennis to see more than three people inside for once when they arrive, but he guesses this is what a bar is supposed to look like when it’s not eight in the morning.

The booths are all taken, but there’s a small table towards the back that looks clean enough, so they head there.

Langdon offers to buy the first round and Dennis lets him, mostly because he doesn’t know how to start this. He talked a big game setting this whole thing up, but that was mostly planned out already with Abbot and was borderline rehearsed. Now, he has nothing. No ground to stand on and no real reason to hate the guy, so what is he supposed to say?

“I ordered a bunch. Didn’t know what kinda beer you like so I got one of each.” Dennis has to fight a laugh at the site of Langdon trying to clumsily place seven different bottles from his arms to the table. He eventually gives into a smile and helping him put them down. Langdon notices and hesitantly smiles back, then sits across from him like he’s in the principals office for detention.

Dennis sighs, it’s now or never to throw him a bone. He grabs a blue moon and works at popping it open on the edge of their table. “You don’t gotta be so weird, I won’t bite.” Not the nicest bone he’s ever thrown but it’ll do.

Langdon laughs nervously, then grabs a bottle for himself. “Sorry, just don’t really know what to expect. I’ve got the vague idea that you don’t really like me.”

Damn it, Dennis laughs. It’s barely anything but he can’t stop it before it’s out. He doesn’t miss how Langdon’s shoulders relax at the noise. “Really, what gave it away?”

They both sort of half-chuckle, still on unsure footing and compensating by drinking.

It’s Langdon, surprisingly, who breaks into it all first.

“Is this about Robby?”

Like ice down his veins, Dennis grips his bottle to gain some semblance of control back to his fingers. He doesn’t know why Robby still has so much control over him. Maybe it’s because he’s the first real thing he’d had since moving to Pittsburgh, even if he doesn’t know what they’d been. He knows it’d been soft at times, consistent and fun. He knew that the transition to sex at his home had been a big change from their one off romps in the hospital, because it made it feel real. The late night conversations in his kitchen, wearing his clothes in bed, whispered kisses as he left before morning.

Dennis, if nothing else, is not an idiot, so why does he feel like one when it comes to Robby?

Now, he’d been left hanging in the wind like nothing but a drunken one night stand— it made him feel delusional. Had he imagined it all? The tenderness, the stories, the everything in between?

Jack was right, none of this was even about Langdon. He is just the walking reminder that Dennis had been discarded for the newer, shinier thing.

So Dennis nods, because it is about Robby. All of this. And he hates to admit that his life is still partially revolving around him, even as they aren’t speaking, but it’s true.

Langdon nods back, slow and solemn and overall unsteady. He sips his beer. “I’m sorry.”

What?

Langdon grins, sad and soft. “I mean, can I explain what this all looks like? From my perspective?” Dennis doesn’t really want to hear it, only because deep down, he already knows Langdon is very likely in the same position as him— swept up by Robby and accidentally hurting others because of it.

But Dennis, again just nods. He’s not giving much, but Langdon is accepting enough for the both of them.

“I’ve been at this ER since graduating med school.” Wow, they’re starting way back. Dennis leans back in his chair. “I did my rotation at the VA for emergency medicine the got placed here. I didn’t think I’d stick with it for my whole residency, much less my fellowship, but I did. And I’d like to say it was for the medicine, because it was, at first. But I don’t think I need to lie to you about this.” Dennis hates to say how much he understands. Robby had redefined medicine for him— something the night shift had spent months unintentionally rewriting for him: the adrenaline of working in a field like this is a given, but how Robby was teaching him to handle it was not. While Dennis could argue the betting wars night shift replaced it with aren’t much better, Dennis knows wholeheartedly that he does not have sex with Abbot for adrenaline or bets or anything but for the simple face that he wants to. That single difference is enough for him.

“Robby used to be a lot sweeter, believe it or not.” Langdon continues, staring down into his bottle as he peels the sticker off mindlessly. “We weren’t best friends or anything, but he’d met my wife before, my kids. I didn’t even think he was gay, nothing.” Langdon laughs, but neither of them thinks it’s very funny. He drinks some more. “We had a conference nearby and he was invited to be one of the speakers, but he bombed it pretty bad. When we got back to the hotel, he was so mad at himself and I don’t know…” Langdon trails off. “Next thing I know we’re having sex.”

Dennis grimaces. He doesn’t want to hear it, but Langdon looks even more pained having to tell it. The man rubs at the spot where his wedding ring once was, but Dennis doesn’t even think he’s aware of it. “I’m not proud of it, of any of it. But I can’t undo it.” Maybe a line he’d learned in rehab, Dennis notices how it calms him, just slightly.

“Either way, we kept it on and off for a while. Whenever we failed a case or made a mistake or just hated our lives and our jobs and the patients who don’t care if we live or die… it wore on us and we found an escape.” Dennis is trying to take it all in. The idea that they’ve been hooking up longer than Dennis has even been in med school is quite the shock, but he doesn’t interrupt. Langdon is being surprisingly open right now, and for once, Dennis doesn’t want to scare him off.

Langdon has to shake himself off a little, pull his head from the reminiscing. “It wasn’t very often and it slowed down as the years when by, but it was always there. Then Pittfest happened, and I’m sure I don’t need to keep going.” Dennis shakes her head. He remembers hearing their argument from down the hall. Remembers Robby’s breakdown and Langdon leaving for months. It’s the only part of the story he knows.

Langdon sits up straighter, and looks right at him, serious and genuine and Dennis has to fight the feeling to look away from the intensity of it. “You have to believe me, I had no idea you and Robby were together when I came back.”

It’s Dennis’ turn to laugh meanly at something that isn’t funny. “No, we weren’t together.”

Langdon blinks, twice. “That’s not what Robby said.”

What?

“He told me about you. Said you were probably the greatest thing he ever lost.” Langdon shrugs like he isn’t dropping bombs of information into Dennis’ lap. “I thought you guys were in love or something.”

“No! No we were not-“ Dennis laughs, panicked. “No.”

“Okaay” Langdon stretches the word and they both chuckle at how increasingly awkward this is becoming. “But seriously, I promise you I didn’t know. I mean, I suspected Robby having some inappropriate crush on you, but I mostly just wanted to get under his skin. And I know you don’t have to forgive me or believe me, but I figured I could plead my case.”

Langdon finishes with that, hopeful eyes and fidgeting hands, and Dennis sits with everything he’d just learned. Langdon didn’t owe him anything, all these answers the least, and yet he gave them freely. He hates how much that aids in convincing him that— God damnit— maybe Langdon isn’t as bad of a guy as he thought.

Dennis groans dramatically at the realization, then drops his head onto the table. Langdon laughs from above him. “What now?”

Dennis groans again, muffled into the sticky wood. “I’m realizing maybe you don’t suck. Well, not fully.” He raises his head to check on Langdon only the find the man grinning ear to ear like a kid on Christmas. “Don’t look so smug about it, now I have to tell Abbot he’s right.”

Whoops.

The grin on Langdon’s face turns lopsided and suggestive, “Abbot? Jack Abbot? Night shift attending and your previous boss? That Abbot?”

He’s so annoying, Dennis thinks. Then just says it aloud. Then, “What other Abbot could I possibly be referring to.”

Langdon lays his head on his hand, propped up his elbow like they’re suddenly friends gossiping. He’s really taking his ‘Dennis stamp of— begrudging— approval’ in stride. “You know, when I first moved PTMC, I debated switching to night shift because Abbot was so-“

“Okay, nope, I’m good! No more stories from you.” Dennis shoves Langdon’s own beer into his mouth to shut him up. The small, teasing smirk on his face looks good there. Dennis immediately prefers it to the kicked puppy look or the overzealous one he’ll wear around the hospital.

They share two more beers together before Dennis realizes it’s getting late and that he has a beautiful man waiting for him at home. He hates to say Langdon is good company, but it’s refreshing how upfront and honest the man is. Though they’d kept to more savory topics for the rest of the night, he never shied away from the truth. Rehab looks good on him.

They eventually split ways and Dennis gets an awkward half hug and an enthusiastic wave goodbye from Langdon as they depart.

He won’t say Abbot was right or that he feels so much lighter after that, but as he knocks on Jack’s door, Jack can read it all over him the second he opens it.

He even plays it up, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at him like a disapproving father. Dennis is too embarrassed to admit how hot the image is. Especially when Jack lowers his voice and makes it stern, and mocking, “Do you know what time it is, young man?”

Dennis ups the ante, lacing his fingers behind his back and blinking up at him; he knows how much the man loves the naive look on him and he uses it to his advantage. “But baby, it’s barely midnight!” Dennis lays on a southern accent like he’s a sweet southern bell pleading away in an old fashioned movie. It’s silly and sweet and he’s sure anyone witnessing the interaction would gag at their stupid, couply antics, but the smile that breaks on Jack’s face makes it all worth it.

Jack’s arms uncross and he drops the act in favor of wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him across the threshold, “C’mere angel, ‘wanted you home hours ago.” The door shuts behind them and Dennis swears he’s swept off his feet by the gentle press of Jack’s lips on his. “Never letting you go again.”

Dennis giggles into the kiss— at the dramatic words and how softly Jack holds him. Still, he can’t help but hope that just once, they’re true.

Chapter Text

Dennis bites the bullet and tells Trinity about his and Langdon’s… reconciliation? He’s not sure what to call it, but the difference is vast. It’s been a week or so since their night out at the bar and if Dennis thought Langdon couldn’t get any more ‘buddy-buddy,’ he was wrong.

Langdon sends him pictures of his dog after work, and joins his cases more often than not when there. It takes Dennis a while to adjust and several more pep talks from Jack to convince him it’s fine. He starts by admitting the man is an amazing doctor. With all the cases Langdon forces them to share, Dennis really starts to admire him as the R4 he is and takes every opportunity to learn something from him.

He learns that Langdon, though allowed back, does have a strict regimen placed on him by the hospital to prove he’s ready. Everyday around seven, Langdon has to excuse himself to go pee in a cup and send it off to the labs. He even has a sober coach from psyche that Dennis sees come downstairs every once and while. Though Dennis would never eavesdrop, he’ll watch them talk in low tones in far away hallways. Seeing someone so willing and honestly trying to get help in every way possible is what starts warming Dennis’ heart to the man beneath the doctor.

When Dennis realizes he’s been texting Langdon back so much that they have repeating inside jokes, he knows it’s time to talk to Trinity.

Dennis is purposefully cooking one of Trinity’s favorites as if to butter her up, and she eyes him from her spot at their beat up, tiny dinning table like she knows he’s up to something. She doesn’t say anything until he plates her food for her and places it right on the table for her.

“Okay who did you kill.”

Dennis’ fork scrapes loudly against their plastic dish ware. “What? No body. Well, unless we’re talking about patients-“

Trinity groans at his obvious redirection and shoves a huge bite of food into her mouth. “Mrs. Lorainge from today wasn’t your fault and you know it.” Dennis can only offer a halfhearted shrugs. He’d almost forgotten about her— a 82 year old woman already on the brink of death as it was, but he wishes there had been more he could do— and he feels bad about it all over again.

“That’s not why I made you your favorite.”

“But there is a reason.”

Dennis rubs the back of his neck, a dead giveaway.

“Alright, spit it out.” Trinity grumbles with her mouth still full.

“Well, do you remember Langdon?”

She snorts. “It rings a bell.”

Dennis is thankful he’d grabbed them both a beer from the fridge before sitting down, because he pops one open and takes a healthy chug before speaking. “We’re… sort of friends now?”

Trinity’s fork freezes for a moment, then continues stabbing like nothing happened. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dennis’ eyes are wide when he questions her, and she rolls hers in return.

“Yeah, I mean, what else am I supposed to say?”

“That you hate him and you hate me now by association. And you’re kicking me out and gonna go over his house and kill him, I don’t know! Any of those would work.” Dennis rambles.

Trinity pops her own beer and drinks from it, but makes a sour face at the taste. “Well, I don’t hate him and I only kinda hate you.” Dennis smiles knowing it translates to the opposite. “Go and marry the guy for all I care.” He chokes on his own spit and Trinity gets up to grab a lime for her beer as if that’ll save it. She even gives him a slice when she returns. “And while you’re at it, tell him to stop leaving me so many gifts and snacks and stuff. He never puts his name but it’s obviously him.” Trinity squeezes the lime into her can like an animal, then remembers something else, “Oh! But him handing me all the good cases can stay.”

Dennis laughs, he hadn’t known Langdon was still on such a heavy handed retribution path with Trinity. “Yeah I’ll let him know.” He’s still smiling as he pulls out his phone to text Langdon.

Trinity gasps all dramatic-like, “Ew is that who you’ve been texting all week?”

Dennis holds his phone protectively to his chest, “Well, not exclusively-“

“Oh gross! I thought you were just texting Abbot all the time given that stupid face you make.”

“What stupid face!”

Trinity squishes her face up all weird and lovey-dovey, then she gags. Dennis doesn’t want to believe that that is the face he makes while not only texting Abbot, but now Langdon too? So he deflects, “Oh give me a break.” He points an accusing finger at her from across the table, “You owe me for setting you up with Ellis. Don’t think I didn’t notice her leaving all bright and early the next morning.”

Trinity, as always, doesn’t give him the reaction he’d wanted. Instead of shy or guilty, her face splits into a shit-eating grin and she wiggles her eyebrows comically. “Oh you should be glad you weren’t here overnight, the sound of her-“

Dennis has to clap his hands over his ears like a child, which sends Trinity into a fit of giggles. Dennis flushes red down his neck as if he hadn’t been having sex with Abbot that very same night. Still, you don’t see him waving it around to his very Lesbian roommate.

“You sweet summer child.” Dennis hears Trinity say when he finally pulls his hands away, a big teasing smile on her face. “I don’t know how you keep getting these doctors to fall in love with you when you’re such an Amish prude.”

“Again, not Amish.” Dennis reiterates, shoveling a mouthful of food and talking over it. “And no one’s in love with me, for the record.”

Trinity raises a single, disbelieving eyebrow. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say.” They drop it, but deep down, Dennis can’t help but wonder how it keeps happening either.

Langdon invites him out for the third time next week, and for the third time, Dennis can’t help but say yes. He hates to admit how fun the guy is, really. Maybe it’s because he’s the first friend he’s made here who’s actually close in age. Victoria is a baby, and though him and Trinity are about the same, she’s her own weird third thing. On the flip side, Robby and Jack are also double his age, so Langdon at his mid thirties is like a breath of fresh air to his late-twenties mind.

The plans Langdon pitches also happen to all be up his alley.

It’s mostly bar hopping or something related to drinking in one part of the night, but there’s always something fun to accompany it. Like last Wednesday, Langdon invited him to an Irish bar where him and some of his college friends do Trivia. Dennis got to meet a couple of them and it became shockingly apparent that Langdon had been in a fraternity.

“It was not a frat!” Langdon had tried to defend himself on the drive back. Dennis had laughed loudly and recalled the backwards hats several of his friends were sporting. Langdon’s ears were tinged red when he admitted, “It was more frat adjacent.”

Dennis hasn’t let him live it down since.

This time, Langdon invited him over to his place after work to see his dog. The lack of bar or alcohol or general third place was a little frightening, but Dennis agreed.

Then, he immediately told Jack.

It was the end of his shift and Jack had just gotten here for the switch off, so Dennis followed him like a lost puppy as soon as he stepped through the doors. Halfway down the third hallway, Jack abruptly stops, and Dennis rams nose first into his back.

Dennis rubs his nose with his hand and Jack stares down at him with an amused look on his face. “Ow.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t follow so close behind me then, angel.” Touché. Dennis doesn’t say as much but they both know Jack’s right. “Did you need something or just miss me that much.”

Dennis wants so badly to step closer and latch onto the man, but he refrains. Barely. “Both.”

Jack raises a brow, then gestures to the staff room behind them and holds the door open for them both to move inside. The door clicks shut behind them and Jack swings his backpack onto the countertop in the meantime. Then, he leans back against it with his arms crossed and Dennis doesn’t know how he’s expected to focus when he looks so good like that. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Jack clears his throat to get his attention.

“Sorry. Anyways,” Dennis flushes and a smug grin finds Jack’s face like it’s second nature. “I’m going over to Langdon’s tonight.”

The expression drops minutely in favor of a confused pinch of his eyebrows. Dennis keeps talking like it’ll solve it, “No! No, no not like that, of course not like that!” He doesn’t even know what he’s denying. “I’m just nervous, is all. And I wanted to ask you if that was okay?” It’s coming out all jumbled and Dennis is getting more and more embarrassed as he keeps talking, so he shuts up.

Jack is quiet for a moment, and that scares him more than anything. God forbid he pulls a Robby and makes Jack think he’s cheating on him with Langdon, even though Dennis is certain nothing is even going on.

Then, Jack moves close and wraps his arms around Dennis and just holds him there. It’s the most secure he’s felt in months and he blinks up at him in his arms. Jack tightens them at the sight, both fully aware they’re still at work. “I’m not your keeper, Dennis.” The use of his real name for once has him tensing more than it should. Jack rectifies it with a quick kiss to the side of his lips, like he wishes he could do more but their setting not allowing it. “While I very much appreciate you keeping me… informed, on your little dates with Langdon.” Dennis opens his mouth to assure him they’re not dates, but Jack properly covers it with his own this time, a chaste and quick thing, but it shuts Dennis up the same. “You don’t need my permission. Maybe, in return, you find my bed at the end of the night. Deal?”

The deal feels heavy and intentionally spoken in a way that Dennis is having a hard time grasping with Jack so close, wrapped around him and smelling like pine. But the soft, searching grin Abbot wears as he waits so patiently for Dennis to realize what he’s saying, Dennis speaks before he really understands what he’s agreeing to. “Deal.”

Something like a sigh of relief pulls from the attending’s lips and his shoulders sag like he’d been expecting something else. “Good,” Jack chances one more risky kiss in the hospital break room before he finally lets go. “Now get outta here. All you do is distract me.”

Dennis bites the smile on his lips but nods. Jack, unashamedly, taps him on the ass as he leaves. He glares at him over his shoulder but both of them are smiling as they finally depart.

He finds Langdon waiting for him by their lockers, and he pockets his phone with a smile as Dennis approaches. Dennis doesn’t fight the one that breaks onto his face, either. “Hey, took you forever! Santos told me I looked like a bum waiting here for you.”

Dennis chuckles and throws his backpack over his shoulders. “Wanted to leave you hanging a bit. Make you work for it.” He’d not meant for it to come out so flirty or as an innuendo at all, but Langdon’s face devolves into that teasing little smirk Dennis likes, so he doesn’t think too much about it.

Given that Dennis still does not have a car, Langdon has to be the one driving them around. And Dennis even gets to open is own door for once as he crawls into the front seat, a novel idea to Jack Abbot it seems.

They chit chat the whole drive to Langdon’s apartment, which is a short one with how close he chose to live to the hospital. The only downside being his four attempts at parallel parking in front of the building before Dennis makes him get out and does it for him.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Langdon asks afterwards, car nicely parked first try.

Dennis laughs, teasing and loud. “Drive?” Langdon shoots him a look like that obviously that wasn’t what he meant, as he uses a key fob to scan open the lobby door. “C’mon, I’ve been driving tractors and four wheelers since I could tell the difference between my rights and lefts.”

The apartment lobby is obviously newly built and it smells like eucalyptus. Dennis, from the lobby alone, can guess that Langdon won’t be able to fully understand what he’s talking about.

Langdon affirms this by chuckling at his anecdote and pressing floor 7, one of the highest in the building. Pittsburgh isn’t necessarily known for sky scrapers, so this is still relatively high up for an apartment around here. Dennis feels it immediately as the elevator goes higher and higher. “What, scared of heights?” Langdon teases as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

Dennis digs his hands into his pockets and scoffs. “Of course not.”

The first sight of Langdon’s apartment view has him eating his words.

The place is small and quaint but obviously refurbished within the last five years. It opens into a comfortable living room with a light leather couch, a nice rug, and several big lamps, but that’s about there the furnishing ends. It opens into a kitchen with a built in dinning table but no chairs. There’s a kennel and a few toys on the ground, but other than that, it’s clear the front room is all Langdon has had the chance to fill out.

The jarring aspect comes from the balcony doors just off to the side, opening to a beautiful view of the city and the river, but Dennis can barely appreciate it with how high up they are. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Langdon closes the door behind them and really laughs this time, then pats Dennis hard on the back like it’ll soothe him. “Not the ideal reaction to someone entering my apartment for the first time, but I’ll take it.”

Dennis has to swallow it down and keep his eyes far from the large windows or the balcony doors made of glass.

He’s distracted by the sudden scraping and stomping sounds of a dog bounding out of an open door and tackling Langdon to the ground.

Dennis watches with a smile as Langdon pretends to fight the dog off, one knee on the ground and pushing it around as it barks and pants and licks his face with a huge wet tongue. “Okay, okay no more! I surrender.” Langdon speaks like the dog can understand him. Surprisingly, it does stop and sit there, tail wagging and looking about as happy as a dog is able to emote. Langdon turns to him and waves him over. “Sorry, this is Belle.” The dog is a beautiful German Shepherd with huge paws, signaling she’s still young and maybe not fully trained, but she looks eager and well kept. “My daughter named her. It’s her favorite princess, and whatever that girl wants, she gets.” Langdon shrugs, ruffling the dog behind its ears.

Dennis doesn’t know why he’s sharing this, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Langdon moves away to the kitchen and Dennis takes the open spot to crouch down in front of the dog and give her all the attention she’s clearly wanting from this stranger in her house.

By the time Langdon comes back, two beers in his hands, Belle is on her back with her tongue out as Dennis rubs up and down her belly with a huge smile on his face.

Dennis coughs, not meaning to be so caught up in the animal but he misses the farm so much in that moment, he could almost imagine Belle as the dog he’d had back home, and it comforted him more than he’d expected. Langdon watches him freeze and raises a beer in each hand, “Please, don’t stop on my account. Soon she’ll love you more than me.”

They laugh but Dennis does eventually stand up and wash his hands in the kitchen sink, returning to find Langdon on the couch with the drinks on the coffee table.

Dennis suddenly remembers why he was nervous to come here. He doesn’t know when but Langdon found the chance to change out of his work clothes; now in a normal pair of jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that matches his eyes. It’s simple and non-performative, but Dennis takes a seat on the couch the most hesitant than he’s been all night.

Had Jack been trying to tell him something today? Making comments about dates and not needing his permission, was he referring to this? To the small, gut level attraction he didn’t realize he had about Langdon until this very moment? Damn Abbot and his miraculous mind reading abilities.

Langdon, ever relaxed and oblivious to whatever thoughts shake around his head, smiles at him as he sits. “I didn’t really have a plan this time, figured we could pick something to watch and just hang out? I know it’s not as exciting as usual but I’m so beat from today.” Though he’s still smiling and speaking brightly, Dennis can hear the under current of nerves beneath it.

He throws him a bone. “Wow, I can’t believe you didn’t plan something bigger. I was expecting sky diving, or that crazy snowboarding John does.” Langdon relaxes at his familiar sarcasm with a laugh, using the remote to scroll through their options on the TV.

Belle takes the opportunity to jump up onto the couch beside Dennis, forcing him to scoot over to give her room. He doesn’t realize he’s now only a hands width away from the resident until he looks up and catches Langdon already looking at him. “Buy me dinner first before you sit so close to me, Amish boy.”

They’re not even that close and, once again, he isn’t even Amish, but Dennis sputters at the accusation either way. Langdon’s clearly been spending too much time around Trinity.

They end up on some shitty kids movie from the 2000s that Langdon was personally offended that Dennis hadn’t seen— if Langdon only knew how many secular movies Dennis was shunned away from, he thinks the man might have an aneurysm.

The beer is the only familiar thing to their dynamic, and Dennis treats it like it’s sacred with how much it grounds him. Because really, he’s sat beside a non-scrubbed up Langdon, on his couch, in his apartment, watching a movie with his dog. It could not get more foreign than this.

But the beer runs out quick as Langdon tries not to keep too much in his house; something Dennis could admire in any moment but this one. So they inevitably order a pizza and pay extra for the guy to pick up a six pack on his way.

The movie is fine, but Langdon’s little tidbits and whispered jokes throughout it make it better.

When the food and beer arrives, Dennis has to stop himself from scarfing and chugging it down in order to not seem like a complete and utter alcoholic. Which he’s not! Dennis says as much.

“You know, with how many times you tell me you’re not an alcoholic, I’m starting to get suspicious.” Dennis doesn’t realize he’s teasing until he’s already gotten all fired up in his own defense. Langdon is laughing, something that must come so easy to him with how freely he offers it, and lays a hand on his elbow. “I’m kidding, only kidding. Plus, who am I to talk about addiction.”

That punches Dennis into a coughing fit with how badly he chokes on his beer. That only sends Langdon into another fit of laughter at his own joke.

Once he can finally breathe right, Dennis says, “I can’t believe you can talk about it so… easily.”

Langdon, still grinning, shrugs like it’s nothing. “If I pretend it didn’t happen then it’ll sneak up on me. Better I just face it and treat it like what it is.”

“And what is it?” Dennis wonders. He’d never had the opportunity to really ask questions to someone struggling with something he’s never experienced before. He’s curious, and he knows Langdon is the last person to be offended.

The movie still plays softly in the background, neither of them very interested in it as they face each other on the couch instead.

“Another part of me, I suppose. A consequence of the lifestyle I lead up to taking my first one?” It’s pitch black out by now and the low lamps color the room and the planes of Langdon’s face orange in their light. One of his hands holds a brown bottle and the other is laid out along the back of the couch, barely encroaching behind Dennis but in a way that’s casual and non-purposeful. Dennis nods, urging him to continue. “I was always chasing the better, bigger thing. Since I was a kid, even. I took unneeded risks in my life and I paid the consequences.” Dennis wonders if this is a life path he could’ve taken. With the adrenaline he’d started of chasing in the ER, maybe one day, that wouldn’t have been enough.

It helps him conceptualize Langdon in a way he hadn’t understood until now. Though Dennis won’t lie and say the shots of epinephrine that come par for working their job aren’t still addicting in nature, he can only hope that— with time— he can learn to cope with it better.

“I’m sorry.” Dennis says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Langdon shakes his head. “Don’t be, I’m a lot better now. Not perfect, exactly, but…” He trails off with an awkward laugh and Dennis matches it. It’s a hard subject to put into words, but Dennis appreciates him for trying.

The movie eventually fades away to credits but the two continue talking over it for the last half hour uninterrupted. From Langdon’s time in rehab to a very brief statement that he is currently divorced and no further, Dennis even opens up about how he picked medicine, though he’d kept it equally brief.

“I got pretty sick one day and passed out in the field. I ended up at the hospital way out of town, some rural thing that barely ran but it was probably the coolest thing I’d ever seen.” Dennis remembers the smell of antiseptic and the wrinkled hands of his nurse who wore pink scrubs and kept mini stuffed toys in her pocket. “It was the first time I was given a solution to being sick and not prayers. After two week of antibiotics, I was on top of the world, I wanted to solve everything around me. So I started practicing on the cows and the horses.”

Langdon chuckles softly, his beer long forgotten and his arm on the couch now bent at the elbow, holding his head up, chin in palm. “Did you have a mini doctor set?” It’s playful and Dennis glares at him gently.

“No, I wish. My parents told me Santa didn’t believe in medicine so I couldn’t get one for Christmas.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I just wanted the little stethoscope Andy Olrich in my first grade class had.” He trails off suspiciously and Langdon squints at him.

“You stole it, didn’t you.”

“Of course I stole it.”

They snicker a little. “How very un-Godly of you.”

“Ha! With how hard my dad beat me after, you’d think God would’ve just given me the damn thing.” Dennis realizes he’s the only one laughing at that one and slaps Langdon on the chest. “Oh don’t give me the sad doctor look. No need to put aggressive parents in my patient file.”

Langdon rolls his eyes at his typical defensive antics, but drops it.

Dennis tells him about his undergrad in theology— Langdon tells him about the “not frat” he was in. From Dennis’ experience living with Trinity and Langdon relating it to living with kids once upon a time, they don’t delve into the touchy subjects, but Dennis can’t help but feel like they will, eventually.

It gets so late, Dennis is yawning between sentences and Belle has fully taken over half of the couch, splayed out on her back and her head pushing into Dennis’ thigh like he’s still taking up too much room. Given how his knee is digging into Langdon’s thigh with how close they’ve migrated, she has more than enough space.

“I should probably be heading home.” Dennis says, despite every part of him that wants to stay.

Langdon nods, “Yeah, it’s getting late.” They agree, but neither of them stand.

Then, Langdon moves, leaning in and Dennis feels the barest brush of his lips against his.

Dennis, against all better judgment, kisses back.

Jack gets back home from his shift bright and early the next day, and though he’d told Dennis to come back to his bed after his time with Langdon, he’s surprised to actually find him there.

Dennis is sitting up on the large bed, back against the bed frame and hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes are wide and staring off, the bags underneath them impossibly darker than usual. When he finally notices Jack in the door way, he shoots to his feet.

Jack lays his backpack down and steps cautiously into the room. The boy is looking at him like he’s sick with guilt, which doesn’t quell his growing concern. “Have you slept?” He asks, a safe question but a loaded one.

Dennis shakes his head. “No. I mean, I tried. In your bed! I tried sleeping in your bed.”

“Okay?” Jack doesn’t really understand what he’s trying to clarify, and as he does a once over of the kid, nothing stands out to him. Same clothes, messy hair, no marks on his neck or anything adjacent. Jack takes a seat on his side of the bed and Dennis takes the opportunity to start pacing at the end of it. Jack watches, slightly amused but worried at what could possible be so serious. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Dennis freezes, then tries to return to pacing like he hadn’t, but he stumbles and waddles, chewing on the corner of his thumb. “No. Yes. Yeah, I need to tell you something.”

Jack’s mind starts flooding with all sorts of horrible things that could’ve happened. Did he kill someone? Did he kill a patient, or run over a dog on his way here? Did he kill Langdon? That would be the most surprising given how unwittingly smitten Dennis has become towards the man, but he wouldn’t put it past him.

“Angel,” The name has Dennis slowing, then pausing all together. “Good. Now come sit down, you’re scaring me.”

Dennis doesn’t laugh, which only rings more alarm bells in his head, but he does sit. At the end of the bed on Jack’s side, about two full feet between them.

Dennis takes a deep breath, endearingly like he’s trying to prepare himself. If he wasn’t so nervous, Jack would’ve fawned over it a little.

“Langdon kissed me.”

Oh.

“No that’s not fair. He kissed me and I kissed him back, a little. It wasn’t a lot! That doesn’t really make it better but I pulled away and we were just talking all night and it was so nice and maybe I was drunk? No I wasn’t drunk I had like three beers and his dog was there, did I mention the dog? Super cute dog and her name-“ Dennis is rambling so bad Jack can’t stop the laugh that pulls from his chest.

The boy finally trails off when he notices Jack isn’t yelling. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Jack shakes his head and snakes his hand across the covers so it lays open between them. Dennis finally scoots closer, and Jack takes the opportunity to pull his hand into his, tangling them together. “Angel, did we not just have this conversation.”

Dennis blinks. “No? I’ve never kissed him before.”

Jack huffs. “Not that.” Dennis looks even more confused. “The break room, not twenty-four hours ago?” Jack gets the pleasure of watching the realization break across his face.

“Were you expecting this?” Jack nods. Dennis looks impossibly more gobsmacked. “But, I don’t-“

“Doll, you haven’t stopped talking about Langdon since you returned to day shift.”

“Well, yeah. I hated him!”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s all.” Dennis bites the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s thinking, and Jack pinches the outside of it to get him to stop. “Then you two talked it out, which I had hoped you would, and now you go out multiple times a week-“

“Like three.”

“-and you text him more than anyone else on your phone.”

“He’s always texting me first!”

“You’re responding.”

Dennis’ voice is smaller, like he knows his defense is flawed, “It’d be rude not to.”

Jack scoots closer across the comforter, and kisses him on the tip of his nose. The tiny smile he gets in return makes it all worth it. “I don’t know how you usually are in relationships, and yes, I’m calling this a relationship.” Dennis, the ever strong headed farm boy, almost looks shy as Jack blatantly, and finally defines what they are. “But I’m not the jealous type.”

That startles him, “You’re not?”

Jack has to laugh. “Would a normal boyfriend sit here and talk you down from kissing another guy?” Dennis shakes his head. “Or would he actively have pushed you into clearing up things with said guy? Sat for all your date stories and encouraged you to pursue it so long as you returned to me at the end of the day?”

“First of all, still not dates.” Jack sighs like he’s pulling teeth trying to get his point across. “Second of all, is that what you meant with all that cryptic talk at work?”

“Did you seriously say deal to something I said without even realizing what I was talking about?”

Dennis has a shameful look on his face that says it all.

Jack pulls their hands apart in favor of holding Dennis’ face in both hands. “I don’t know how better to spell this out for you. You’re hot, Langdon’s hot,” Dennis’ eyebrows shoot to his hairline but Jack plows on. “If you want to see him or date him or just fuck him,” Dennis is turning to beet red in his hands, Jack almost feels bad for teasing him. “Then you should do that.”

He lets him go and leans back into the bed frame. Dennis is still sitting there, shell shocked. “I should?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

“But- you. We’re still together, right?”

“I’d sure hope so seeing as we just became a couple less than ten minutes ago.” Dennis is floundering where he sits. Jack sighs, “Doll, if something like this isn’t for you then we don’t have to-“

“No! No, this actually…” Dennis clears his throat at his momentary excitement. “This is just, new. I didn’t even realize it was an option.”

It’s Jack’s turn to laugh again, soft and just enjoying the naivety. “It can be, if that’s something you want.”

Dennis scoots a little closer, eyes big and curious. “So, I could, be with him… too?”

Jack, without an ounce of jealousy, nods honestly. “If that’s what you want.”

“This sounds like a lot of going with what I want.”

“Is that not what a relationship should be? It’s my job to make you happy, and if you’re happy with Langdon, who am I to withhold you from that?” Dennis nods slowly, like he’s starting to understand the concept.

“So, are there rules?”

Jack shrugs, tired from his shift but willing to explain anything the boy needs. “If you want them.” Dennis nods again like he can’t speak and process things at the same time. Jack offers one first, “I’d prefer if you told me. Y’know, if and when. With who.”

“Of course! I’d feel like I was lying all the time, otherwise.”

Jack grins, “Good boy.” The red all over Dennis’ face is such a rewarding look.

“Can I-“ Dennis starts, and Jack nods. He clears his throat. “I don’t want us just, sleeping around, though. STD’s and all that.”

Jack, at the current moment, can’t even fathom sleeping with anyone else, but he appreciates Dennis’ use of “us” either way. “Sure. It’s a bad look for a doctor to get an STD.” Jack thinks back on Robby’s incident in med school with a patient and his results being plastered around the place. He wonders if Robby ever told Dennis that story.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I think I can do this.” Dennis assures himself, the gears running so loud in his head Jack can basically hear them from here.

“Again, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-“

“I do!” Then Dennis’ face falls, and he groans, falling onto his back on the bed. Jack watches on, ever amused by his persistent proclivity towards the dramatic. “God, now I have to undo everything I said to Langdon.”

Jack thinks it’s funny Dennis still calls the doctor by his last name if they’re already on kissing basis. “Oh yeah? And what’d you say.”

Dennis squeezes his eyes closed as if to avoid the retelling. “Well, I pulled away pretty quick and he started apologizing and I was just in shock, really. I mean, I thought I’d just done to you what Robby did to me.” Jack reaches his hand back out in comfort and Dennis finds it immediately. No wonder the boy had looked so beaten up about this when he first arrived. “So I asked him flat out if he was still seeing Robby, and he said yes.” Jack could’ve told him that. He’d run into them in the bathroom just last week hiding behind the stall, but with the telling legs of Langdon on his knees beneath the door. “I told him that meant I wasn’t only betraying you, then, but that he was now betraying Robby.”

Jack doesn’t comment, but he knows how hard it must’ve been for Dennis to stand up for Robby like that. He squeezes Dennis’ hand and given the grin it rewards him, Jack knows he understands. “Anyways, I got outta there after that. Came straight here, got the key under the matt— you really need to find a better hiding spot.”

Dennis sits up on his elbows and locks their eyes, lets Jack see into how honest he’s being right now. Jack appreciates it, but he trusted him either way. He takes the opportunity to learn forward and press their lips together, familiar and comfortable, and Jack can’t imagine ever giving this up.

“Is this a bad time to say I hope you guys make up?” Jack starts, and Dennis giggles as he trails his lips down his jaw, then meanders around his neck with his tongue and teeth.

“Why’s that?”

Jack bites down on his collarbone, revels in the squeaky moan he gets from it and smooths the mark with his tongue. “Because I’d love to see him fuck you some time.”

The whine that splits from Dennis’ lips at his words is molten in his veins. Jack starts ripping off Dennis’ clothes before they can even fall to the floor.

Chapter Text

Robby feels like shit.

In fact, it feels like no matter what he does, Robby always feels like a piece of shit. He’s spent his whole life working to get where he is today: pre-med undergrad, then grueling his way through med school— rotations, residency, all of it, never complaining. He’d worked so hard since he was eighteen, so why isn’t he happy? Or so much as content?

He was happy, once. With Dennis. And it had scared him so bad all he could do was run.

The idea that the thing he’d been searching for all this time laid simply in the hands of a twenty-something year old he worked with was terrifying. How fragile; how precariously it balanced on his fingertips. Robby would rather push him off wobbly feet than watch him teeter. But down with Dennis went any hope he’d had at finding something more than anything he’d ever known.

Is it too late for him? Had the train passed with Dennis? Hell, with Collins? Dennis has clearly moved on, so why can’t he? Technically, Robby supposes he has.

The telling sound of a zipper snaps him out of it.

Langdon’s pale back is sitting at the edge of his bed, zipping his pants back on as he tries to find his shirt amongst the mess of clothes on the ground. There’s several moles freckled up and down the expanse of his spine— the one on his shoulder being Robby’s favorite. He swears as he riffles through the pile, and eventually gives up, turning to Robby with a question in his eyes and a point to the closet.

Robby waves his approval and Frank’s figure disappears into the walk-in. He doesn’t know why even ask given Frank has his own section of shirts from home hung in the back.

When Frank returns wearing one of his t-shirts from college instead of one his own, he understands.

The now dressed man pads across his soft carpeted floor to Robby’s side of the bed and sits on the edge, bumping their hips together in the process. His hand finds the soft place where Robby’s jaw connects with his neck and he leans into it. No matter the rough sex they’d had, or the heated argument that had spurred it on in the first place, they were always soft afterwards. Robby doesn’t know why.

“What’s up with you today?” Frank threads the words gently like he’s doesn’t want to spook him. Robby would feel more offended if it wasn’t so effective.

Robby tongues the inside of his cheek as he tries to find the words. He sighs, “Nothing. Thinking about work, is all.”

Frank’s blatant disbelief pulls a humored huff from Robby’s chest. He tries again.

“Thinking about Abbot. Whitaker. Everyone, I guess.” The fingers smoothing his beard freeze at the names, but resume quickly. “Just thinking about life, really.“

“Pretty big topics there.”

Robby chuckles. “I guess so.”

They’re silent for a while. Frank’s thumb pulls closer, rubs the corner of his lips. Their agreement has never been rooted in love or affection, really. Not ten years ago and not now. Maybe they feel it; both of them subconsciously aware of how vulnerable it is to break down the way they do. The way they yell and fight and take it out on each other in every way of the word. It makes them honest with one another, if nothing else. Maybe that’s love. What would Robby know.

“You should talk to him.” Frank starts, though Robby doesn’t know which one he’s referring to. Probably both. “If you just cleared the air, I’m sure you could pick up where to left off.

Dennis, then. Robby has to shake his head. “No. No, I’m not sure he ever wants to hear from me again. Much less go back to…” He trails off. He can’t say it, and it burns like acid in his throat. Like putting what they’d had in words will be the final nail in the coffin, really settling in just how much he’d lost. It’s not like he regrets what he has with Frank— and he’s eternally grateful the man isn’t the jealous type— but he’ll spend the rest of his life attempting to forget about Dennis. About how he’d hurt him.

“Probably not.” Ouch. “Still, it’s worth a try. Even if you’ll never go back to…” Frank doesn’t say it either. Maybe he felt him flinch. “But saying it out loud will help, whether he chooses to listen or not.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of advice is that?” Robby smirks, amused by the man’s shoddy attempt at helping him. Frank’s hand on his face turns to a pinch on his cheek, and not the sweet old lady kind. “Ow!”

“Shut up you’re fine.” Robby halfheartedly goes to bite one of his fingers but misses by a mile. The hand lands softly back on his jaw. “Look, all I’m saying is someone in my life got advice kinda like this and now we’re finally on good terms. Kinda.”

“Who else could you possible have in your life.” Robby teases.

Frank goes to pinch him again but Robby catches him by the wrist this time. He grips it hard and doesn’t miss the way Frank’s eyes flash a little darker, his jaw clenching just slightly. But he pulls it out of his grip and Robby lets him.

“Asshole.” Frank gets up and stretches his back out with a painful sounding pop. He finds one of his shoes on the floor and tries to tie it on while standing up, hopping around a little. Robby can’t help but smile as he watches him. “Take my advice or don’t. At the very least, talk to Abbot. He’s your best friend for God’s sake.”

Robby rolls his eyes because he knows Frank’s right. He tends to be, no matter how hard he likes to fight him.

“I’ll think about it.”

Now with both shoes successfully on, Frank plants one hand on the bed as he leans in and presses a mean, rough kiss to Robby’s lips. Robby gets one good bite in before they part. Frank pats him hard and sarcastically on the face as he pulls away, “You do that.”

Frank leaves with that, and Robby listens to the telling sound of him going down the stairs and to the door. When it slams shut behind him, it shakes the house. Robby doesn’t even care, too focused on the silence once it’s done reverberating.

Collins leaves.

It’s not entirely unexpected, but Robby hates it either way. Really, he barely saw her anymore with how little she worked. After Pittfest, she’d cut her schedule in half. It was hard enough working short staffed, but when she started cutting more and more hours at the months went by, Robby knew it was just delaying the inevitable.

Portland, to be back with her family is what she told him. Robby offered to help her move boxes out of her apartment but she’d refused. Said she had it handled. He didn’t doubt it.

And though they hadn’t been much of anything in years, Robby didn’t expect it to weigh so heavy on his chest as he watched her leave. He knows it’s selfish, but he can admit that with Heather also left any chance he’d had at rekindling any form of a normal love life— not that he had any plans to do so, but still. Hell, they’d almost had a baby together. Robby can’t think about it too much.

So he busies himself.

The lack of hands— no matter if she hadn’t been around much these last several weeks— is still substantial enough that he takes on every case he can to distract himself. It’s unhealthy, but he never claimed to be anything but.

The first week into May, finally hot out and two full weeks after Collins leaves, does Gloria find him. Not in a preferable state, either.

Robby had just spent the last half hour attempting to perform an emergency C-section on a mother and her baby. The mom made it out, the child had not. The woman’s screams of misery at the loss still painted the walls of trauma one and the deep crevices of his mind. Robby wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully clean that scream off of him.

Robby sat still and lifeless in the triage hallway, eyes burning into Adamson’s plaque when Gloria finds him and breaks the news.

They’re pulling a second attending onto day shift in replacement for Collins, and Gloria thought who better a fit for Robby than Abbot.

Any other day, or year, Robby would’ve agreed with her assessment. Maybe even celebrated the idea of him and his begrudgingly best friend finally working together. Now? The news comes like a final blow to the teetering stack of Jenga blocks that is his mental stability.

When he’d grumbled the news to Langdon that night, the man laid out flat on his bed after a particularly rough time together— blue and purple splotches up and down his chest, and red, Robby-sized hand prints scattered further down for no one to see— Frank had gathered the energy to laugh at him. “You’re so dramatic, what’s the worst that could happen?”

This. This is the worst that could happen.

It’s Jack’s first day on day shift in years and though his eye bags look bad and his hair more so, some of the team had put together a little welcome gift for him. Well, it’s an envelope full of cash and a single deflated balloon in the break room but still, Jack seemed to appreciate it anyways.

Robby hasn’t even gotten the chance to greet him this morning before he’d stopped.

Jack, leaning up against one of the work stations where Dennis is sitting, both smiling at each other and whispering something funny enough to make them laugh. Dennis even puts his hand on Jack’s forearm when he does, smiling all big and his fingers curling around his wrist. The look between them feels so private and tender, and it has Robby turning on his heel and back to central.

Work. He just needs more work.

It does not help. Nor does it prevent Jack from finding him like he’d hoped. Instead, he joins in on the first trauma of the day like it’s nothing. Because it is nothing, Robby has to remind himself. Jack has done nothing wrong except for fall for the same boy as him. It’s Dennis, after all. Robby can hardly blame him.

“Thought you might be avoiding me.” Just like Jack to start right off. The patient between them is awake and somewhat alert. Part of an MVA but she’s in good shape, a closed shoulder dislocation, about a lucky as she can get.

“Not avoiding you- yeah another 20 is fine. Just, busy. You know me.” Robby, despite the pinching, horrible taste in his mouth at the memory of Jack and Dennis’ moment earlier, can admit that there’s no one else he can so easily talk to like this. Like there isn’t a patient between them as they bounce back and forth between medicine and a normal conversation— as if it’s two cups of coffee between them and not a human being.

They leave trauma one and head to two, Langdon perfectly capable of finishing the dislocation himself. The woman’s wife is in this one. The driver if he were to guess given the airbag-burns down her forearms.

“Too busy for your best bud?” Jack’s tone is dripping in sarcasm and he has to speak over the woman’s groaning as Dr. King and Dr. Santos evaluate her, poking and prodding every painful spot on her body.

Robby chuckles, “I never said that.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he leans behind Santos, watching her work but not interfering as she presents her findings. She proposes a debridement for where the woman had tripped on the asphalt when attempting to exit the vehicle. “Good plan. Push another four of morphine.”

Jack leads them out of the room, pausing at the door, “And get them both out of here once they're cleared for CT. The other vehicle injuries on en route.” Both women nod and the two men grab sanitizer on their way out. Robby’s hands ought to be permanently stained with the sheer amount of antiseptic he’s used in the last twenty years. “Sure seems that way.”

Robby has to remember their conversation with how fast they’re moving through these patients. He sometimes misses being a resident— sitting down with the patients and actually following through with their care to the end. Nowadays, it’s just a lot of walking around and approving things. Teaching and helping where he can, but the most hands on he gets is when it turns for the worse. It’s a reality he likes to ignore when possible. Jack following him around isn’t helping. “Is there something you want to say, Jack?”

The aforementioned shrugs like there isn’t an incredibly muddled, connecting thread tying them together right now. Though the two are on the opposite sides of it, now face to face, the tension has settled in. He can’t believe four men are even capable of making such a mess. “You tell me.”

Robby shakes his hands as if to show they’re empty and walks off. Jack doesn’t follow him this time.

The next time he speaks to Jack, is at the end of the shift.

They’d shared several cases throughout the day, and Robby hates to admit how nice it is to have two attendings on at a time. He is no where near incapable, but the sheer weight that is pulled off his shoulders is noticeable and welcomed. Still, they’d kept to work talk only this time.

But like a well oiled machine, they tackled each case with a polish that can only be achieved with a partnership like theirs; one that had known each other for so long and so well. It made Robby homesick for something he can’t place.

When Jack catches him on a one off, top secret smoke break, the look on his face reminds him why he’d been avoiding him in the first place.

Robby doesn’t try to snuff it out, clearly caught red handed and he’d just lit the damn thing. First day back and Jack’s already reinstated his sixth sense to Robby’s self destructive habits.

They’re just outside the med bay and around the corner. A little fenced off cove right before the street starts, Robby finds solace there every once in a while. All limestone brick and uncut shrubbery concealing him from view, but a perfect look at the stars if you lean back just right. Maybe five feet across at most— probably a spare place for a garbage can if he thinks about it— it’s the best he can get. Better than the roof and having a certain someone keep catching him trying to kill himself.

Clearly said man’s heroic complex knows no bounds if he’s even found him down here.

“Reds?” Jack asks, leaning up against the wall next to him. Robby blows the smoke away from him.

“Always.” Marlboro reds. The same stuff Jack used to smoke before his wife made him quit. Hated the smell. It’s been six years but he hasn’t smoked one since.

“Smoking again?” A stupid question. Robby waves the thing between his fingers like he’s blind. Jack knocks his shoulder into his, mean and teasing and all too familiar. Robby’d missed him.

“Not for a while.” It’s not a lie. His last was maybe a few months ago, a little earlier? When he’d found out about Jack and Dennis. He’d officially broken his clean streak that first night on the roof with Dennis, just after he’d caught him smoking one himself. He doesn’t share either memory with Jack.

“Why today?” A loaded question.

Robby shrugs. Just blows the smoke away and doesn’t miss the way Jack watches it dissipate into the warm night air. “Why not.”

Not an answer and they both know it.

Jack sighs but doesn’t push, no matter how badly he clearly wants to. Robby hangs the cigarette between his lips and rolls the filter between his teeth.

“Why?” Robby hadn’t meant to speak, but that single word had rattled around his head for weeks. Why Dennis? He doesn’t have to say that part aloud as Jack winces.

“I don’t know.”

“Out of everyone.” Robby waves the cigarette in his hand out in an arch, like there’s an invisible crowd of people to which he’s referring. “Why him?”

“I don’t know.” It’s quieter this time and painfully honest.

Robby scoffs.

Jack snaps his head up. “What the hell is your problem?”

“No, what the fuck is yours?” Robby doesn’t know when he got so heated, but the burn of the nicotine isn’t helping.

Jack pushes off the wall. “Look. I’m sorry about Dennis. Really, I am-“

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“-but I don’t know what you want me to do here!” Jack keeps going like Robby hadn't spoken at all. “Do you want me to grovel? Get on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness? Because I’ll do it.”

“Of course that’s not what I want.”

“Then what?”

Robby laughs like something’s funny. “You know exactly what I want.”

Jack throws his hands in the air and lets them fall, exasperated if nothing else. “What? You want me to leave him like you did?”

“Sure, if that’s what it takes.” Robby barely recognizes his own voice.

It’s Jack’s turn to laugh now, quick and shocked. “You expect him to fall back into your arms or something?”

Robby doesn’t reply. It’s answer enough.

Jack sighs, deep and long and he runs his hands through his hair. The dead cigarette shakes between Robby’s fingers but he doesn’t want to let it go yet.

“Michael.” Robby freezes like a kid in trouble. Jack steps back into his space and tries to catch his eye. “I love you, man. You know I do.”

Robby can only nod.

“But this isn’t healthy for you. What you do in there?” He throws a gesturing hand to the limestone behind them, a certainly busy ER just inside. “It’s unsustainable. I don’t know how you’ve gone this far without me here.”

“I’m fine. I haven’t needed anyone this whole time and I sure as hell don’t need anyone now.” He’s talking about the ER, but he knows that’s not all. Jack can see right through it.

“You say that and yet I haven’t seen you so much as shed a tear over Heather. You’ve barely even said her name since she’s left.”

Robby doesn’t fester on the stinging pain that returns at the mention of her name. Still, it’s dwarfed by the black hole that lives inside him going after a different name. “It was never about Heather and you know that.”

“Sure the hell it’s not. You two almost had a future together-“

“So did me and Dennis!” Robby yells. “So where does that leave us, huh? Because I love you but I loved him.” His words are desperate and they crack as something heavy sinks in his throat. It’s humiliating, admitting so blatantly what’s kept him up at night and ripped him apart for so long now, he barely even remembers what it was like to have him. That stubborn curl by his temple, the freckles on his shoulders from growing up in the sun. His stupid, old man anecdotes that rival his own in corniness. Robby would give anything to have even a moment, where Dennis sits at his island in one of his shirts and drones on about a case he hated, or the hair Trinity leaves in the shower. And to get that smile back— the one right after he kisses him when his eyes are barely open and he’d taken him by surprise. The whispered, what was that for? before Robby kisses him again.

Robby hadn’t realized tears had started clouding in his eyes before one is falling. He turns around to wipe it despite Jack witnessing the entirety.

It’s silent for a moment, neither having much to say. Or maybe too much.

Jack breaks it. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Robby doesn’t turn around as he watches the bushes instead. But he nods. “I know. I didn’t expect you to.”

Robby wishes he’d held onto Dennis even a fraction of how hard Jack is now.

“If he wants to. Y’know. I won’t stop him.”

Robby huffs a breath through his nose like a single, unhappy laugh. He’d known all about Jack and his wife’s… relationship preference. He hadn’t thought him and Dennis would’ve made a similar arrangement given how deeply he still hated Robby for seeing someone else. “He hates me.”

Jack shakes his head out of the corner of his eye. Robby doesn’t get his hopes up no matter the sincerity there. “He’s hurt. It’s different.”

Robby rolls the long since extinguished cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, but he still can’t let it go.

He hesitates.

Then, “Do you think he’d ever forgive me?” A different question entirely. He doesn’t need Dennis to love him; he can’t make him. But if he can have the boy back, even at an arms length where he can see him happy again, he’ll take it.

“I don’t know.” Blunt and honest as always, Jack continues. “Maybe try apologizing for once. That might be a good start.”

Robby nods. After everything he’d said and done, of course he’d wanted to apologize. The guilt that kept him awake and ate at his every move around the kid, he’s not an idiot, he knows he should’ve just apologized. But deep down, Robby would rather forgo his own potential forgiveness if it means he can pay his penance via his own, worse punishments.

Because honestly, he knows Dennis. He knows that with time, he would be forgiven. But he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves to hurt.

So what could he possibly say to Dennis? That he’s sorry but don’t forgive him? He should let him rot and run himself sick if it means he’s paid the price of abandoning the one person he’s ever loved.

For the high-handed sin of knowing God and forsaking him regardless is of the highest degree of apostasy. And though Robby thought very little of God or the Tanakh anymore, had he not done so similar to the face of everything good he’d ever known? He’d known he was in love with Dennis when he’d left him. When he’d pushed him away and ignored his every attempt at reconciliation. If any of it was real, however unlikely, then he had no right to Dennis anymore.

He’d looked a gift horse in the mouth then sat surprised when it was ripped from his grasp.

Jack’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder and he startles. The golden filter falls from his hands. Robby didn’t realize he was shaking that bad. “Come back to me man.”

Robby didn’t think he’d gone anywhere, but the serious and scared look in Jack’s eyes beg to differ. “I’m sorry.” His voice is still choking on the stone in his throat and he wavers more than he likes. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt so weak.

“I’m not the person you have to say that to.” Robby can only nod. He knows he has to, but he still can’t make himself want to. With time, maybe.

The hand pats hard on his shoulder, strong and slightly jostling. “C’mon. Let’s go get a drink. It’ll make you feel better.” Robby says nothing of how stupid of an idea that is and follows after him anyways.

Maybe he’ll give Caleb a call after all this. Set up a new therapist. And maybe one day, he can forgive himself, first.

Robby glances back at the discarded cigarette bud as they walk away. Unfinished and burnt out. Maybe he’ll get it later. Try his best to relight it.

Chapter Text

It takes Dennis three days to wrap his mind around this new dynamic he has with Abbot. Up until now, he’d always thought himself a jealous person. Robby being the most obvious case— being left for Langdon with no explanation still sits like a rock in his chest.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he starts to differentiate between jealousy and hurt. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about Robby and Langdon’s… thing the more time went on. It was the fact that he was lied to. He’d trusted Robby with a part of himself he’d rarely begun to know and then it was ripped out from beneath him. If he really thought about it, maybe if Robby had asked him or simply told him before running off into the sunset with Langdon, Dennis could imagine the two together with a much better taste in his mouth.

Because he wasn’t jealous, as he’d come to realize, he was possessive. He knew, even at the time, that he never owned Robby nor did they stake any real claims on one another. But a part of Dennis viewed the man as his whether he was aware of it or not. Had he been asked to share, midwestern hospitality would not have been lost on him. But he hadn’t been, it had all just been ripped from his hands.

Jack, as he is beginning to learn, is the epitome of such possessiveness.

Now that the two are finally on the same shift cycle, dates and free time have never come easier. While Dennis tries his best to stay at his actual apartment with Trinity, the allure of Jack’s house and the man who resides there wins out more times than not. They take advantage of that time as much as possible. Jack even takes him to one of his favorite gay bars downtown.

It’s barely a gay bar in comparison to the clubs Trinity has dragged him to: this one’s a rundown thing filled with an older crowd, juxtaposed by the young bartender who’s clearly on aux playing the latest hits. The various older couples and groups alike don’t seem to mind, and it’s oddly sweet seeing people like him growing old and being happy.

Dennis five years ago wouldn’t have believed he was in a place like this. Dennis from ten wouldn’t have believed he’d be able to be happy like them one day.

Jack and him spend the night curled up close together in a sticky booth and nursing NA beers in favor of driving home later. Something cinnamon and tangy and it sticks to Dennis’ lips. He can barely care, too focused on imagining Jack tasting it on him later.

And when Dennis goes up to the bartender to order two more, he recognizes his first mistake is lingering there.

The man is about his age, a few years younger maybe, and glittery all over. His hair is bleached and he pulls Dennis into a conversation so easily, he almost forgets about Jack waiting for him— watching him.

The boy’s clearly flirting, but Dennis doesn’t stop him. It feels kinda nice, even if it’s because he’s the only one in this bar who's remotely in the same generation as him.

When Dennis finally pulls away with drinks in hand, the look on Jack’s face makes it very obvious that he is going to pay for that later.

And oh does he.

“Did you like that? The way he fawned all over you?” Jack is so deep inside him by now, Dennis is choking on his moans as he feels it in his throat.

They’d barely made it home after that little conversation. Jack had driven one handed, the other shoved right down the front of Dennis’ jeans before he could gasp. Then, Jack pushed him so close to the edge so quickly, then pulled him back at the last second. Dennis had panted and whined and begged Jack to put his hand back, but he didn’t relent.

Only when he’d calmed down did the large, warm hand push back down to where he needed it most.

Then Jack left him hanging twice over before they even hit the driveway.

They’d barely made it through the entryway and it was a miracle they’d even made it to bed, but Dennis was allowed to jerk himself off as Jack shucked off his prosthetic so he didn’t have the mind to complain. But before he could finally finish, Jack ripped his hands away once more and Dennis swore like a sailor as his head pounded in protest.

It hadn’t taken long after that. Scrambling to get only their essential clothes off as Jack sat back against the headboard. Dennis whined and complained through the prep until he was finally rewarded with sitting down right on his boyfriend’s cock.

When his leg’s off, they often find themselves in this position. Or maybe Jack just uses it as an excuse to watch Dennis bounce up and down like a mirage on top of him. Neither of them fess up to how wildly intoxicating it is for them both.

Dennis loves it. Biting his nails into Jack’s shoulders, driving himself as deep as he wants, and watching that little pinch between Jack’s eyebrows as his eyes follow his every movement like Dennis created life itself.

“Did you like leaving me there to watch?” Jack, though sat, never relinquishes his control and Dennis tightens at the thought— then revels in the deep groan it awards him. “Answer me.”

Dennis is nodding before he can think, thighs burning as he continues to lift and drop himself over and over again. Jack’s hips snap up to meet him halfway and he’s certain his brain short circuits.

“Is that how you want me? Watching you get fucked by some pretty boy in our bed?” Jack is borderline purring into his ear as Dennis has to drop his head to the man’s shoulder in exhaustion, but his hips don’t let up. Dennis won’t admit that the term pretty boy doesn’t have him imaging the bartender, but a dark haired figure with blue eyes and a grin that makes him weak. He also won’t admit how hard his dick twitches at even the reminder of Langdon.

“N-no. Ah fuck.”

Jack’s hands roam up and down his back, his waist, down his thighs as he lingers in his favorite spots along the way. Dennis feels him in his throat.

“No?” Jack punctuates it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. Dennis has to grip hard at the man to keep himself from shaking. “Then how do you want me?”

Dennis bites down at the junction of Jack’s neck and shoulder. The man hisses and squeezes at his hip but doesn’t complain.

When Dennis finally speaks, his words are slurred and drunk with how many orgasms he’s been denied in on night. “Wan’ you there fucking me too.”

Something in Jack let’s go at that, and suddenly, Dennis is less bouncing and more holding on for dear life.

His nails draw blood down the man’s back as Jack starts snapping his hips at his own pace, then gripping Dennis by the hips— lifting and slamming him into them like he weighs nothing. The complete lack of control of his body has that creeping, white hot feeling begin to crawl back up Dennis’ spine, up and up until it draws behind his eyes and suddenly he’s coming.

It swallows him whole and Dennis is certain he’s crying. He isn’t sure where his body ends and where Jack’s begins. Only heat. Blinding, shaking heat. He can feel his body fall as it finally succumbs to the labor of holding himself up for so long, but he barely feels it. This is a record for them denial wise, and though Dennis had complained the entire time along the way, if this was the end result every time, he’d learn to bear it.

He tries not to be dramatic about probably the most life altering orgasm of his life, but Jack chuckles into his skin and he’s sure the look on his face is a dead giveaway.

The attending must have finished somewhere along the way given how they hiss as he pulls out and how he ties and chucks the condom away, but Dennis for the life of him couldn’t tell when.

They eventually have to clean up as the heat subsides to cold AC and awareness of the sticky sweat all over his body. And only once they’ve changed and their sickly sweet kisses give way do they speak again.

“Are you going to talk to Langdon?” Jack asks, tentative as he stokes his hand through Dennis’ curls. Neither of them acknowledge why bringing him up after their little mid-sex-Q&A makes sense. But the look on his face is so soft and open, Dennis can’t help but stare in disbelief that it’s all for him.

“Maybe.” Dennis mumbles. Jack shoots him a look. “Okay, yes, I will. God, dad.”

Jack pinches his waist with an evil smirk and he yelps. “You know I’m not into that. Makes me feel old.”

Dennis wiggles his eyebrows as he scoots closer. “Nothing a little time can’t solve.” His teasing awards him another pinch, but they’re both grinning as they curl into each other under the warm sheets.

Dennis eventually finds the time to talk to Langdon.

They haven’t been avoiding each other, per se, but they’ve returned to a very cordial, in between state that made things infinitely more awkward. It’s clear Langdon is trying to respect the boundary Dennis had very strictly drawn, but he also didn’t leave Robby either, so they’re left in a sort of standstill. And though Dennis never insinuated that he should leave Robby whatsoever, it was clear at the time that neither of them should be kissing if they both have partners. Now, however, Dennis is terrified of opening that door again.

What if Langdon thinks he’s a whore or something, getting ‘permission’ to see him? Or, what if Langdon and Robby don’t have the same open dynamic, and by Dennis inviting Langdon in again would now turn Frank into a cheater? All of the scenarios are starting to make his head hurt with how many times he’s turned them over in his head.

But Dennis is an adult. A grown man who can handle his own shit— or at least that’s what he repeats over and over for the rest of his shift, hoping it’ll work and give him the balls he needs to approach Langdon as the time continues bleeding away.

And as night shift starts trickling in and the day slowly slips from the sky, Dennis’ little mantra has done nothing to calm his nerves. So he does it scared.

He catches Langdon already out back, halfway to the parking lot, phone in hand and a red vine sticking out of his mouth. Mid-bite and distractedly tapping away at his phone. When Dennis approaches, the man startles half a foot into the air.

“Jesus fucking- Dennis?” Langdon chokes a bit on his red vine and the rest ends up falling to the pavement. Dennis doesn’t miss how the doctor follows its fall with a sad look.

Dennis bucks up. “Can I buy you another one?”

Langdon’s face pinches in confusion, then washes into all the thoughts Dennis wishes he could read by expression alone. Maybe one day.

The idea of a ‘one day’ scares him even more, so Dennis pockets his shaking hands and plasters a confident smile he hopes to display all the confidence he is not feeling. Langdon very clearly sees right through him, but Dennis celebrates either way as he slowly nods to the proposition.

They wordlessly follow each other to the familiar spot Langdon likes to park in towards the back, and Dennis has to take a steadying breath every three steps.

The drive is even worse. Excruciating silent despite Langdon’s favorite CD playing— having been jammed in his shit box of a car since he’d bought the thing in college. It’s even his favorite track from the list, and though Dennis can see him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he doesn’t sing along. Dennis hates it; hates more that he knows all of this and can read it so plainly from the man’s body language alone. Even if their conversation doesn’t pan out how Dennis would like, he would settle for having any part of Langdon back. Whether that be kissing on his couch in that tiny south side apartment, or just here; tapping and singing away to the words Dennis knows Langdon knows.

It’s completely dark by the time they reach the nearest gas station. Though not far, their clock out times were later than desirable. It lends to the shadows casting down the sharp planes of Langdon’s face. The sterile white neons of a 7/11 lighting up the inside of the car, and for the first time that night, Dennis can finally pick out the apprehension pulling Langdon’s lip between his teeth. Dennis has to bite the bullet.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out before Langdon can even turn the car off. It catches him off guard and his hand slows to pull the key from the ignition. When he does, neither of them move to exit the vehicle.

It’s silent. The car hums and ticks as it settles down, and the automatic doors of the station ding happily, just barely in earshot.

Those doors ding four more times before Langdon finally speaks.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Soft and borderline diminished, it’s the words Langdon has clearly rolled so many times over, their sharp edges have turned soft.

Dennis turns in his seat to face him. “Everything. I-“ Now that he’s actually here, he finds his mind blank no matter how much he’d run over this exact scenario. He takes a breath. Langdon stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for not texting you. Or talking to you at work.”

“We talked.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Though Langdon’s technically right, the ‘talking’ they’d done at work since that night has been clipped, and they’d been tip-toeing around anything real. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend.”

Langdon looks up at that, but his eyes only brave a glance in Dennis’ direction now. Seeing such a presumably steely, ER resident, sat so amenably in the face of such a delicate situation humanizes the daunting nature of it all immensely. But before Dennis can charge forward, Langdon speaks first.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Dennis shakes his head. “I did. I-“

“I was an asshole!” Langdon turns fully now, eyes large and hurt, like he’s disappointed with himself in some way. Then it all just tumbles out. “You’re so clearly in a relationship-“

“Well-“

“And I’m sleeping with the guy you also used to sleep with-“

“I’ll give you that.”

“-but you’re so nice and you didn’t treat me like I was some druggy or- or a freak and, God I’m such an idiot! You were just being normal and I took advantage of that- of you! I finally made a friend since being back and of course my first thought is to fuck you or something.” Langdon has devolved into shoving his hands through his hair and rambling in a half-panic. Dennis isn’t sure he’s even heard his attempted interruptions, too focused on his deprecating spiral.

Dennis tries to speak once more but Langdon is still listing off every mistake and apparent ‘wrong’ he’s committed towards him in their brief friendship. So Dennis pushes through the space between them and grabs him by one of his wrists, still half tangled in his own hair.

Langdon freezes almost comically, but it works to refocus him back on Dennis.

“You did nothing wrong.”

The doctor opens his mouth again to speak but Dennis keeps going.

“I’m not apologizing for pushing you away. We shouldn’t have kissed.” He doesn’t miss the way Langdon minutely flinches at the memory and his bluntness. Dennis isn’t sure he’s catching on, so he tries again. “We shouldn’t have kissed then.”

A pinch of confusion on Langdon’s face pulls a sigh from Dennis. He isn’t really sure how to do this. One more try.

“I told Jack.” The color drains from Langdon’s face.

“He’s gonna kill me.”

Dennis laughs softly, “No- stop, he’s fine.” Langdon clearly doesn’t believe him.

Dennis takes the moment to rub his thumb along the inside of his wrist. The touch steadies them both just slightly, and Langdon’s beginning to look almost hopeful, though attempting not to.

“I’m going to say something, and if you want me to stop, tell me.” Dennis hedges, avoiding his own embarrassment if this doesn’t pan out. Langdon can only muster a nod. Dennis can feel his own stuttering heartbeat in his teeth. “I wanted you to kiss me. That night in your apartment. I don’t think I even realized it myself until you did.” Langdon, thankfully, doesn’t speak now, but he can practically feel the words vibrating off of him. “I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt Jack like I’d been hurt.” He doesn’t have to say Robby’s name. It’s their common denominator, after all.

“So I ran and I told him and I really thought he was going to kill me. And then you, if I’m honest.” That pulls a small laugh from them both. Langdon’s hands have fully fallen into his lap now, just listening and watching every word fall from his lips. Dennis’ hand is still light on his wrist, and neither of them move to remove it. “Me and Jack-” He trails off, then tries again. “I’ve never been in a relationship like… this before.”

“Like what?” It’s the first time Langdon’s spoke since his onslaught, and it’s steadier now. Spoken straight and even but searching softly.

Dennis has to hold harder onto Langdon’s wrist to still the growing shaking of his hands. “One where I’m allowed to want.” It’s whispered and barely a breath— barely an explanation. But the way their eyes both stray to each other lips, Dennis is certain Langdon has caught on.

“He won’t kill me?” Langdon whispers, teasing and gentle and everything Dennis has missed about him.

Dennis laughs fully now, but hovers closer as he shakes his head.

It’s all the invitation he needs before Langdon is breaking the space between them and connecting their lips over the middle console of his car.

Dennis sighs into it, moving his hand to the side of Langdon’s jaw and finally reveling in the kiss he’d been hoping would return to him. Just as soft as the last time, Dennis finally gets to kiss him back how he wants. Just a pressure at first, chaste and pressing against one another like testing the weight of a barrier, then it breaks.

A slide of their mouths pushing and pulling against each other like two race horses at the shot of a gun— eager and like they’d been waiting for years. Dennis breathes into his mouth and Langdon licks across the seem of his lips until they part.

At the first taste Langdon’s tongue against his own, Dennis feels a shiver crawl down his spine from the base of his neck and he pushes himself infinitely closer.

The gear shift slams into his thigh as he attempts to scramble closer and Dennis has to break away with a pained groan. That doesn’t stop Langdon, though, as he immediately pivots to scraping his teeth along his jaw. Then down to the crook of his neck, below his ear, then across his adam’s apple, kissing and nipping like he can’t get enough. One of Langdon’s hands trail down to the thigh that rammed into the metal and he palms the muscle there.

“You okay?” Langdon’s voice is muffled against his skin and Dennis can barely nod with how close the man’s head is to his own. The palm starts trailing more North, barely dancing against the scrubs neither of them have changed out of yet. Before he reaches the apex of exactly where Dennis wants him, he changes course and lands on his hip instead.

Dennis curls a mean hand into Langdon’s hair and tugs as he groans his own noise of disapproval. “Langdon-“

“Frank.” He mutters, seals it with a bite on what is exposed of his shoulder. “I’m not your doctor, nor am I your senior resident here.”

Dennis shudders at the deep tone of his voice and is highly aware of the fact that, especially now, he’s right: Frank is not Dr. Langdon right now with how lapping away up and down his neck like he’d gone hungry.

“And,” Frank continues, low and whispered now. “I’m not fucking you in my car outside of a 7/11.”

Dennis’ breath hitches at the thought alone, and his hips jerk up into nothing. Frank pulls away, but his eyes follow the movement. Then, he drags them slow and savored from his hips, to his chest, then lands back on his lips. Like he’s picking him apart and laying him out— Dennis can’t help but feel entirely exposed despite his clothes on.

They’re both breathing heavy and barely inches apart, Dennis has never wanted to make out with someone more. Yeah, the idea of being fucked in this car, by this 7/11, is in fact absurd and a delicious thought— at the moment, he really just wants Frank’s mouth back on his.

He withholds the best he can, landing one more kiss— that devolves a little more than he’d intended, wet and suffocating all over again— before he pulls back with a hand on Frank’s chest. “I believe I owe you some red vines.”

Dennis taps that hand on his chest in finality and steps out of the car before Frank can protest.

And when he gets back, if they make out again with red 40 on their tongues like teenagers in the back of the car, then that’s nobody’s business but their own.