Chapter 1: September 17th
Chapter Text
Chapter 2: September 19th
Chapter Text
[ 7:45 PM ]
Dennis waits outside the ER entrance, hopelessly bouncing his leg. He told Trinity to head back on her own, which after giving him more shit on his major fuck-up, she does.
Every time someone leaves the building, his eyes nervously dart to the doors, hoping that Robby is the one walking out.
He’s cold, he feels like shit, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. The look on Robby’s face when they collided was sure to haunt his dreams for years to come.
But, he’s still clinging to that last thread of hope. Dennis seeks out Robby’s approval–no, his praise. So, if he gets the chance to properly apologize, he’s going to do it.
There’s probably some deep-seated issues there. He doesn’t really want to unpack all of that right now, if ever.
After a half hour or so, Robby trudges up the ramp.
Dennis stands up straight and approaches. “Doctor Robby?”
Robby jumps, and Dennis realizes he’s been lurking around the corner of the building, out of sight like a creep this entire time.
His attending quickly recovers from the scare and schools his expression. “Whitaker. Why are you still here?”
Dennis fidgets with the strap of his backpack. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. When I–”
Robby holds up a hand, a tight smile stretching across his lips. Reminding him of the incident clearly makes him cringe, but he’s polite about it. “No need to apologize. I’ve had much worse spilled on me. I think the fact that half of the staff and your patients in triage saw it is punishment enough.”
Their eyes meet and Dennis feels his stomach flip. He wants to leave it up to his anxiety, but he’d be lying to himself.
Something else is still bugging him about the incident, but Dennis can’t force the words out of his mouth. Robby’s eyes scan him closely and sees the struggle.
He raises his eyebrows at Dennis and throws him a bone. “It’s more than just that, I take it?”
Grateful, Dennis nods. “Did I do something wrong today, sir?”
Robby’s eyebrows knit together. He shakes his head intently. “No, not at all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
“So…putting me in triage-?”
He chuffs. “That was supposed to be seen as a mercy. I saw you were struggling today and figured you might benefit from a lighter workload.”
A quiet oh escapes from Dennis’s lips. He feels stupid. Trinity got in his head, clearly. This is all just a misunderstanding. Robby wasn’t avoiding him all day, they were just out of sync. That’s all.
Robby tilts his head a little. “...is that all, Whitaker?”
Dennis snaps out of his train of thought. “Oh–yeah. Yes. Sorry, again.”
“You have off tomorrow, right?”
He nods. Robby offers another polite smile and claps him on the shoulder, giving him a light jostle. “Shake it off. Get some rest. You’ll be as good as new for your next shift. Alright?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dennis watches Robby’s hand fall to his side and misses the warmth immediately. “Thanks.”
“No problem, kid. Have a nice night.”
just a guy
@trinsansduh
taking all my bad luck, doubling it, and giving it to dennis
❤ 1 7:55 PM - September 19, 2025
2 people are talking about this
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
replying to @trinsansduh
you suck
❤ 1 7:58 PM - September 19, 2025
Chapter 3: September 20th
Chapter Text
Chapter 4: September 21st
Chapter Text
Chapter 5: September 22nd
Notes:
Any phone that is not Dennis's (minus groupchats unfortunately) will be Green instead of Blue.
Chapter Text
ROBBY'S PHONE
Chapter 6: September 26th
Summary:
Things begin to unravel, so Dennis looks for stability.
Chapter Text
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
my past is coming back to haunt me in the worst fucking possible way
❤ 0 5:35 PM - September 26, 2025
Mel 🦄
@lovely_fairies
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
I am always here if you need to talk!
❤ 1 6:41 PM - September 26, 2025
just some guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
dawg what r u talkin about txt me
❤ 0 6:46 PM - September 26, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
stop this is making me nervous for you
❤ 0 5:38 PM - September 26, 2025
Chapter 7: September 28th
Chapter Text
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
naughty calves get the wheelbarrow
❤ 3 12:14 PM - September 28, 2025
Mel 🦄
@lovely_fairies
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
OMG!!! SO Cute!!!
❤ 1 12:15 PM - September 28, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
stop shes adorable
❤ 1 12:15 PM - September 28, 2025
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
this downwards spiral is getting worse 🥲 i really thought the farm would help but idk anymore
❤ 2 8:32 PM - September 28, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
distractions are temporary, you need to face whatever has you down sooner or later...
❤ 2 8:35 PM - September 28, 2025
just a guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
wow who couldve guessed 🥱
❤ 0 8:38 PM - September 28, 2025
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
replying to @trinsansduh
ugh shut up im not in the mood
❤ 0 8:38 PM - September 28, 2025
just a guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
you mean ur not in the MOOd
❤ 0 8:38 PM - September 28, 2025
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
replying to @trinsansduh
yea maybe ill just move out
❤ 0 8:38 PM - September 28, 2025
just a guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
cmon huckleberry you cant MOOve out now :///
❤ 0 8:38 PM - September 28, 2025
Chapter 8: September 29th
Summary:
Dennis comes clean to Trinity about why he's been so cagey.
Chapter Text
The cheap red zip-up doesn’t do much to warm Dennis. The wind blows straight through the fabric and stings his skin. What had been a throw-away joke from Trinity has dug up some quite shameful memories.
Is shameful the right word to use? Maybe not. The more he thinks about it, the more he’s starting to hear his mother’s voice in his head. She often turned her nose up at young women who wore shorts or tank tops, making sure that those around her knew she disapproved. She'd tsk and rant about how modesty brings us closer to God, and about how she's glad none of her children would ever succumb to such sinful behavior.
A shiver rolls down Dennis’s body as he shuffles down the sidewalk in no particular rush to get to the convenience store, which is a little less than two blocks down from the apartment complex. He quit vaping well over a year ago, but the itch to buy a disposable just to keep both his hands and mouth occupied is becoming harder to ignore. He’ll have to thank his old college roommate for that bad habit.
Behind him, he hears footsteps. They’re paced at a jogging speed, but are far too heavy and sloppy to be someone actually working out. Dennis turns and sees Trinity approaching, her arms awkwardly crossed high over her chest.
She soon slows to a stop in front of him, and speaks breathlessly. “Fuck, it’s cold out. Are you insane?”
“I said I’d be back,” Dennis says flatly.
“Yeah, well, I’m coming with you. I wanna grab a drink.” Dennis looks her over, eyebrow quirked. She’s in her pajama shorts, a hoodie, and slides. She scoffs. “Okay, fine. I’m here ‘cause I wanna know what the hell’s going on with you.”
He mirrors her crossed arms and pops a hip to the side. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Trinity replies far too quickly, like her brain is on autopilot.
“Try again.”
She groans and throws her head back dramatically. “Okay, fine. Fine! I’m worried. I care about you, Huckleberry. Why the fuck else would I run out here braless in my shorts? I had to strap these puppies down to save my back.” She gestures down to her crossed arms, which she drops now that she’s at a stand-still.
Dennis can’t help the grin invading his lips. Logically, he knows that Trinity just had a really weird round-about way of showing she cares.
He turns on his heel and starts walking again. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
With a huff, Trinity falls in step next to him, back on track to the corner store. “You fucking suck. You know that?”
Dennis shrugs. It only takes her about thirty seconds to ask. “So are you gonna tell me?”
He sucks in a deep breath and looks to the sky. Not a star in sight from here. One of the few things he does miss from Broken Bow is the lack of light pollution.
Dennis has never told anyone about this–he never thought that he’d have to–so when he reaches for the words to string a sentence together, he falls flat.
“I don’t know what to say. It’s probably just my mind fucking with me.” He peeks a glance at Trinity and is surprised to see her features have softened. She’s actually listening. “Uh…well, a while ago–when I was maybe twenty two or so–my parents stopped sending me money. It wasn’t exactly a lot in the first place, y’know, our family isn’t rich by any means, but…” He trails off and thinks back to that day he was cut off. Dennis starts to feel sick to his stomach all over again.
He shakes his head in an effort to push those memories back into their cage. “Anyways. I couldn’t find a part time job fast enough to get money for food, and I didn’t have anybody I could reach out to for help, so I went on Craigslist to find literally anything that pays. Any oddball jobs.”
Again, he looks to Trinity, but this time her thin brow is raised.
“What.”
“I abstain.”
“You abstain?”
“I’m trying to be nice by not saying anything, okay?” She does a shooing motion with her hand before tucking it back into her hoodie pocket. “Continue.”
Dennis rolls his eyes. The corner store is half a block away now, and there’s a few people loitering outside. He stops walking and faces Trinity. Her eyes bore into him and he forces himself to maintain eye contact. The tail end of his story comes out fast, and in a single breath. “There was an ad I found that was looking for a specific kind of videos he wanted to shoot. It paid well enough, and I was fucking desperate enough that I got in contact and filmed some…stuff.”
He watches as Trinity’s eyes go wider and wider. Her mouth hangs open dumbly and Dennis can see the cogs in her brain clicking everything into place. “You did porn?”
Dennis does his best to swallow through his throat’s constricting muscles. “Like, three videos.”
“And you–wait. Wait.” Trinity drags both her hands down her face as she paces in a small circle in front of Dennis like her world is collapsing in on itself and she’s trying to come to terms with it. “So–you’re freaking out about Robby recognizing you because you think he beats his meat to you?”
The crass conclusion leaves Dennis cringing, his neck sinking down into his shoulders as his cheeks burn. “Jesus Christ, don’t word it like that.”
Trinity suddenly grabs him by his arms, eyes still wide. “You said it was specific. How specific are we talking?” She barely gives him any time to process the question. “Is it, like, piss stuff? Please tell me it’s not piss related. I might throw up.”
Dennis’s entire body flushes hot as he slips out of Trinity’s grasp. “No!”
Two of the men outside the store turn their heads to him, and he quickly quiets down. “No.”
“You gotta give me something here, Huckleberry.”
Somehow, admitting the porn thing gave him less anxiety than this. Any cravings Dennis had were completely gone now, and were replaced with a nauseating churning of acid in his stomach. He casts his eyes downwards just as hot tears begin to sting the corners of his eyes.
“Oh–woah, okay. Shit.” Trinity’s voice sounds alien as it loses all its edge. “Hey, look. I’m sorry, okay? We don’t need to talk about that right now.”
Dennis hastily shakes his head, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “No–fuck, just let me do this. I have to. It’s driving me insane.”
Trinity nods, slow and unsure. “Alright.”
He sucks in air until his lungs are at full capacity, then lets it all out, letting the words roll off his tongue with it. “It was trans porn. With…y’know. Me as the…” Dennis deflates immediately at the pathetic coming out, but Trinity takes it well, to say the least.
Dennis really didn’t know why he dreaded telling her; he knew that she would be cool with it. Maybe it has something to do with the admittance. Even if she had an inkling beforehand (which apparently she did), the admitting often ends up causing some friction between the people he tells. They start to talk differently to him. He gets sideways glances. They ‘play nice’ to his face, which, being from the Midwest, was nothing new to him.
The two head into the convenience store and make a beeline towards the freezers lined against the back wall.
“So you think Doctor Robby is a chaser?” Trinity asks in a half-hushed tone.
Dennis feels heat prickle at the nape of his neck, right where Robby would place his hand to steer him around the ER. He pulls open a freezer door just to alleviate the heat rising to his cheeks. “I-I dunno, Trin. I don’t even know if I’m right about this. I mean–”
He reaches into the freezer and heaves out a six pack of PBR, then hikes it up under his arm. “–you texted me that as a joke, then I started thinking about it more and more, and I started to spiral.”
Trinity is a few doors down, mid-grab for a canned tea when she whips her head towards Dennis. “Oh shit, I did say that, didn’t I?” She steps away and lets the freezer door seal shut, her cheeks puffed out. “Whoops.”
Dennis can’t help it when his eyes narrow to a glare. “Yeah. Whoops.”
She shrugs carelessly and they filter through the aisles, grabbing a few snacks on their way up to the register. The cashier looks barely eighteen, and very much dead inside as he scans each item at a sluggish pace. With some hesitance, Dennis asks for a Lost Mary from behind the counter. Trinity shoots him a disappointed look, but he does his best to ignore it.
The moment they’re out in the wind tunnel that encapsulates their street, they’re both shivering. Their pace goes from a stroll to a half-run the whole way back. While Dennis was able to clear some air between him and Trinity, he’s left with a relapsed addiction, and a massive fucking elephant in the room.
Maybe he’ll be able to forget all about his stupid crush on his attending before his next rotation starts.
Chapter 9: September 30th
Summary:
Calm before the storm.
Chapter Text
ROBBY'S PHONE
Chapter 10: October 1st (Pt. 1)
Summary:
Drunken texts from Robby lead Dennis to his doorstep, and has him questioning several life choices.
Chapter Text
One thing that Dennis conveniently left out of his and Santos's conversation is the fact that he has an undeniably massive crush on his attending. It's pathetic and inappropriate, and probably a fact that he will take to his grave.
It’s hard for him not to, not with the way he gets manhandled around the ED. No one else seems to be getting constant shoulder grabs and neck touches as him. Not to mention the way Robby’s soft brown eyes crinkle so sweetly at the corners when he smiles. The gravelly, calming tone of his voice when he speaks plainly to a patient, the way his scrubs hug his belly when he shrugs out of his jacket–
Dennis can only hope that this is a run of the mill type of crush that will be gone after a month of not seeing him.
If not, that…complicates things.
He stares at his phone, stomach in his throat. Doctor Robby had sent him a text about half an hour after he left the ER.
Odd how such a small text could leave him feeling both giddy, and guilty. Of course he wants to start interning at the Pitt; it's what he had been hoping for since day one. Emergency Medicine is in his blood. Not fucking farming, much to his family's dismay.
Little had his parents known that Dennis’s push to get a degree in theology had all been a cover. He moved away the moment he got accepted. Still in state, but far enough away that visits were sparse. He got on medicare, saw a doctor, saw a therapist, and got on T.
When his mother called, he'd lie and say he's sick. That's why his voice sounded deeper.
It was only a matter of time before they found out. He just had to ride the tightrope until he could do an away rotation; somewhere, anywhere–
“You still with us, Huckleberry?”
Dennis realizes far too late that Trinity is waving her hand in front of his face. He does his best to shake himself loose from the ensnaring thoughts and rejoins the present.
The beer he has a grip on between his legs has gone warm. He forces a smile and sets his phone down on the coffee table. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You survived your ER rotation. A little optimism, please?”
He nods numbly from his seat on the couch. Trinity sighs loudly and flops down next to him. “You really want to intern there, don't you?”
He nods again.
“But…you're still caught up on–” she catches herself and looks to Mel and Victoria, who were in the kitchen with Becca eating pizza and chatting. “The whole Robby thing.”
Another nod.
“God, I feel like I'm talking to myself right now.” She jostles his side and he wobbles. “Say something.”
“What if I get rejected because of it?” Dennis blurts out, finally meeting Trinity's gaze.
She frowns. “Then they're fucking missing out. You have other places you plan on interviewing at, right?”
“Well, yeah, but–”
“But nothing. Either they want you for an internship, or they don't. Big fuckin’ whoop. Life moves on. Literally anywhere you end up matching to, you will rock that shit.”
Dennis only realizes he has dropped his gaze when Trinity dips her head down and forces him to make eye contact again. “I'm being serious. This is about as mushy as I'll ever get. Any more than this and I’ll throw up. So just say okay and move on. Okay?”
He swallows. “Okay.”
On the coffee table, his phone buzzes. Once, twice. His screen reads 12:11 AM.
Dennis frowns. “Who the hell’s texting me this late…?”
Trinity, forever the nosy one, tries to lean in to see. “Booty call?”
The moment Dennis sees the contact name, he immediately puts his phone face down. Panic washes over him. Something is very wrong.
“I need to take this.”
Dennis stares down at his phone in disbelief as the texts trickle in.
Knowing what I know. I feel like such a piece of shit.
Then…
I want you. I need to see you. Please.
It feels like a fever dream. No– a wet dream if he’s being honest with himself. Late night drunken texts from Robby about how he knows everything and can’t contain himself. Dennis shudders at the thought of those warm, thick fingertips roaming anywhere below his neckline.
Then reality hits him. This is Doctor Robby. Someone he hopes to be interning under in less than a year. His mentor. Someone who he looks up to and someone who is mentally unwell. It’s bitterly ironic, thinking about how acting on this dumb crush would be taking advantage of Robby. Their dynamic suggests it should be the other way around. But this was a personal matter. A cry for help.
He thinks back to that first day. Finding Robby curled up on himself in pedes, sobbing out a prayer with his Magen David necklace clutched in his hand.
Dennis pads back out of his bedroom, phone clutched tight in his palm. He must look pale, because Trinity immediately approaches. “Jesus, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to faint.”
He keeps his voice low. “I have to call an Uber.”
Trinity’s taken aback. “What? Why? What’s happening?”
“It’s–” Dennis swallows past the lump in his throat. He knows if he tells Trinity the nature of the texts and who they were from, she would be on his ass. He hasn’t told a single soul about what happened during the mass casualty event, and it’s not his place to spill that to Trinity now. Robby’s mental health was not anyone’s business. Fuck, it shouldn’t really even be his.
He thinks on his feet. “Some guy I hooked up with a while ago. He’s really going through some stuff right now and doesn’t want to be alone, that’s all.” Partially true.
Santos’s sharp eyes flick to every inch of his face, looking for any tells. There’s a small glimmer, but she just sets her jaw. “You can take my car. Just don’t crash it.”
Dennis frowns. “Are you sure?”
Trinity shrugs, but she’s a little stiff. “Yeah. I’ve got a shitton of stuff to sort through online tomorrow anyways. Probably gonna just be at home all day trying not to kill myself over my laptop.”
Slowly, Dennis nods. “Thank you so much.”
「 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 」
Dennis says a hasty goodbye to Mel, Becca, and Victoria. Both Mel and Victoria give him a bit of a curious glance as he scrambles to throw on shoes and a jacket, and he’s sure they'll all be theorizing the moment he’s out the door. He can only hope that Trinity doesn’t catch on to where he’s going.
2683 West Archer Road. He throws it into his phone’s GPS on his way downstairs, Trinity’s keys jingling from their carabiner on his hip. It takes him a minute to figure out that a push-to-start means you have to put your foot on the break for it to work.
His heart thumps against his ribs the entire drive there. It’s about fifteen minutes away; the shops and apartment buildings are much better kept than where Trinity’s place is. Every red light he hits has him nervously checking his phone for any other texts Robby might send through.
I want you.
Dennis drums his thumbs on the steering wheel as he eases onto the gas, crossing another intersection towards a cluster of townhouses.
I need to see you.
It’s hard to see all the house numbers in the dark. As he grows closer to the blip on his map, he slows the car to a crawling pace. Odd numbers are on the right. 2677…2679…2681…
Despite the slow-goings, the whole car still jerks to a stop when Dennis slams on the breaks. Wedged between a bunch of similar-looking buildings, is an old red brick townhouse. It’s the only one with lights blooming through the sheer curtains of the first floor.
Dennis pulls up right against the curb. He barely remembers to put the car in park, hastily locking the doors from the inside so the horn doesn’t wake the neighbors.
As he steps into the cool air, he hears music. It’s muffled behind the thick mortar of the aging building. He steps up onto the stoop and stares at the front door, which looks impossibly tall to him. Or, maybe he just feels impossibly small.
Pulse thrumming in his throat, Dennis raps his knuckles on the door, hopefully loud enough to be heard. After a few beats of silence, he calls out. “Doctor Robby?”
He turns his ear to the door and just hears a soft, melodic voice accompanied by a somber instrumental. Again, he knocks. This time he gives it some more force behind it. “Doctor Robby!” Dennis winces at the echo that follows his words. God, he really doesn’t want to piss off his neighbors.
No answer. Now he’s starting to panic. Maybe he just fell asleep?
Dennis yanks his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his contacts. Just as he thumbs down to his name, the door swings open. A gust of hot air hits him; the scent thick with liquor and a hint of a musky cologne. Robby staggers, but he catches his forearm on the door frame before he can topple any further.
“Whitaker?” he questions, voice filled with the gravel of a man who had fried his vocal chords. He looks just about as bewildered as Dennis. His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are flushed crimson.
Dennis feels himself shrinking even more. “You…texted me.” He weakly holds up his phone, then drops it back into his jacket pocket. “I–I was worried.”
Robby stares at him for far too long, the usual quick as a whip brain of his taking several seconds to process, then put together words for a response. “Oh fuck, I did.” His eyes crinkle as he laughs, then drags a hand over his face. “Fuck. Yeah, I–”
He begins to lurch forwards, and Dennis instinctively reaches out to catch him with a hand to his chest. “Woah–okay. Uh…” His eyes dart up and down the street, like somehow someone that they knew would catch them like this. “Let’s go have a seat inside, okay?”
It’s a bit of a clumsy dance; Robby is six feet tall and broad, but Dennis swings Robby’s arm around his shoulders and carefully steers him over to the large, L-shaped couch that wraps around a coffee table.
“Alright. Down we go–”
Robby begins to flop down on the cushions and nearly takes Dennis with him, his hand grappling at the front of Dennis’s shirt. He’s able to catch himself halfway down, the heel of his hand harshly colliding with the back of the couch.
Dennis frowns and curls his hand around Robby’s wrist. “Please let go.” With a childish grumble, Robby relinquishes his grasp, his arm falling like dead weight to his side. “Thank you.”
He doubles back to shut the front door, taking a moment to assess the house. It’s mostly an open-concept design. To the left is the designated living room where Robby is sprawled out on his couch. Straight ahead leads into his kitchen which features a J-shaped counter that has an open bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass beside it.
With a deep sigh, Dennis kicks off his shoes and neatly places them at the front door. Then, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. He opens cupboards until he finds where Robby keeps his cups, fills one up with water from his fridge, and returns to the living room.
Robby hasn’t moved much; just sprawled a forearm across his eyes. His hair is sticking up in odd directions, he’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded graphic tee, and he looks…weirdly normal. This is not the Doctor Robby that Dennis has come to know. If anything, he’s a patient to be seen.
He hesitates at first, but kneels on the ground in front of Robby. “Here. You need to hydrate.”
The forearm is lifted off his face, and Robby peeks at Dennis from the corner of his eye. “Don’t wanna.”
Dennis scoffs. He remembers Robby’s reaction to him bringing up Abbot. “Do you want me to call Doctor Abbot instead?” A low grumble vibrates in Robby’s chest. “Yeah, exactly. Sit up.”
Something in Robby seems to click, because he’s sitting up without much more complaining. Dennis makes him down at least half of the water before he sets it down on the table.
As he monitors Robby, Dennis slips away to turn off the record player that sits under his front window. He glances at the sleeve that’s out.
JEFF BUCKLEY
GRACE
He sighs and settles down kiddie-corner to where Robby sits, hands clasped in his lap. “Do you remember any of what you texted me?”
Robby’s brows crumple together as his eyes search for the answer in Dennis’s features. His wrinkles soften after a moment. “Just that I wanted to see you.”
Dennis nods slowly, doing his best to ignore the pang in his chest upon hearing Robby admit that out loud. Shit. This was a bad idea. “Okay. Um…” He checks the coffee table, then cranes his neck around to the kitchen counter. “Where’s your phone?”
After some clumsy fumbling, Robby produces his phone from his pajama pants’ pocket.
“Can you unlock it for me?”
Robby frowns. “Why?”
“ ‘Cause I wanna call Doctor Abbot.”
Immediately, Robby stuffs his phone back into his pocket. “No.”
“Robby–”
“Please, no. I don’t need another fucking mental health intervention. I just–!” Robby’s voice raises in volume and Dennis winces. He snaps his mouth shut and takes a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just wanted to see you. Fuck, I-I can’t explain it.”
Dennis forces himself to take a deep breath too, but his shudders as it leaves his lungs. Now is not the time to press on this subject. Even if he does admit to anything, what good would that do him come tomorrow morning when Robby forgets everything?
“Okay. Is your bedroom upstairs?”
Robby is at least a little steadier on his feet, but that doesn’t mean going up a flight of stairs isn’t scary as hell. Dennis has plenty of practice with wrangling drunkards; the three main culprits being his eldest brother, his uncle, and his father. So he knows if he feels Robby’s weight tugging him this way, that he needs to counter it by going the other way. He pays close attention to how he places his feet, making sure he doesn’t misstep and roll his ankle (or worse, take Dennis down with him).
Dennis makes sure Robby’s right against the edge of the bed before he tells him to sit. He goes down like a sack of potatoes; all weight and no form. As he lays down on his side, his phone slips out of his pocket. Dennis does his best not to draw attention to it, instead making sure Robby is settled.
“Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”
Robby grumbles a sure, yeah as he rolls to his other side. Dennis stares at the discarded phone laying on top of his sheets. He takes his chance and snags it before slipping out of the bedroom and down the hall. Please be unlocked please be unlocked–
He swipes up. No passcode.
ROBBY'S PHONE
Dennis's Phone
It takes ten minutes for Robby to completely pass out. It takes about three hours for Doctor Abbot to actually get off work. After Dennis gives him his number and wipes their texting history, he finds the cord for his phone, plugs it in, and neatly sets it on his bedside table.
Once he's sure Robby isn't going to choke on his own vomit in his sleep, Dennis tip-toes downstairs to clean up. He doesn't have to, he knows that, but one thing his mother ingrained into his psyche was that idle hands are the devil's workshop.
He screws the cap back on the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, wipes down the counter, rinses out the dirty, short glass, then puts it on the drying rack next to the sink.
That only burns about fifteen minutes of his time.
Dennis shoots a quick text to Trinity to let her know that everything is fine, but he doesn't have an ETA for when he'll be home.
Abbot texts him. He sighs and goes back upstairs to check on Robby again, avoiding the creaky floorboard this time. He's softly snoring away, dead asleep.
You can probably head home. There's a spare key in the planter, just lock up with that and put it back for me.
He worries his already raw lip with his sharp front teeth, debating doing just that. This isn’t his place to butt in. Abbot knows Robby better than anyone else, he's sure of it.
He rewinds that thought.
Abbot knows Robby better than anyone else.
Maybe if he played his cards right, he'd be able to learn something.
No, it's okay. I wanna make sure he's safe.
ABBOT'S POV
He gives up a holiday to Shen for this shit. Fucking Robby. As much as Jack wants to put more venom behind his thoughts, he simply can't. He's watched Robby slowly be swallowed whole by the PTMC. Hell, he lived through a good chunk of it himself.
He hit rock bottom a few years ago, when his wife passed. Robby helped him tread water for God only knows how long. The least he can do is sacrifice a decent day off to make sure the dumbass didn't off himself.
That poor kid, Whitaker.
By the time his car's parked outside, it's well after three in the morning. He jiggles the doorknob and to his surprise, it opens. The ceiling lights are off, but the dim, yellow glow of a standing lamp illuminates a good portion of the ground floor. Looks empty.
Jack is just about to head for the stairs when a tuft of mousey brown curls catch his eye. He sighs and shuffles over to the edge of the couch and sees the MS4, Whitaker, curled up on the cushions.
He awkwardly reaches down and gives him a nudge. Wouldn't be the first or last time he'd wake up a student, but the location was a new one.
“Hey. Kid.”
Dennis grumbles incoherently. Jack could laugh at the absurdity of this all. He jabs him in the shoulder harder.
“Whitaker. Wake up.”
That does it. Dennis jolts awake like he's ready for a fight, his hands curling into fists. Jesus. Jack raises his hands in peace as Whitaker's crazed, blue eyes land on his face. He could take the kid down in one fell swoop if need be.
“Woah there, cowboy.”
The raw survival in Whitaker's eyes quickly evaporates, and is replaced with shock. He clutches a hand to his chest and lets out a heavy breath.
“Doctor Abbot, I–” Dazed with sleep, Whitaker slowly takes in what had happened and begins apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry, I must've dozed off waiting for you. I really didn't mean to–”
“It's alright.” Jack makes sure he comes off as laid back as possible to counteract the ball of anxiety sitting in front of him. “I got this. Go home and get some rest, okay?”
Dennis takes a moment to wipe the sleep from his eyes before glancing to the stairs. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I could deal with a drunk Robby in my sleep.” He shoots a wink before he can process exactly what he'd just implied. Whitaker's expression shifts. “Not like– You know what I mean.”
Dennis staggers to his feet. Jack gives him a once-over. “You good to drive home?”
“Apartment's only like, ten minutes away.”
He lingers. It's very apparent that Whitaker has something he wants to say. Abbot gives him a patient pause to think about it, but when he doesn't budge–
“What is it?” The words come out much more exhausted than he'd expected, but who can't blame him? It hasn't exactly been the most conventional night.
“When I texted you on his phone, you said what now,” Dennis waves his phone at his side, “when I said my name. Does…Does Doctor Robby talk about me a lot?”
Shit. Nothing's getting past him, is it? Jack had completely forgotten about that throwaway text. He rubs the back of his neck, fingertips brushing at the hair on his nape. “Uh…a bit, I guess. He's just really proud of you–of all of you.” Hopefully that covers his ass enough.
“Nothing else?” He prods, and those big blue doe eyes bore deep into his soul. Jesus, man, no wonder Robby folds for this kid.
Abbot drops his shoulders, lips pursing up into a pout. “Look, Whitaker. I'm not just an attending, I'm Robby's friend. If you wanna know what he thinks about you, then you're gonna have to ask him yourself.” As much as he wants to say not my circus, not my monkeys; Robby is absolutely one of his fucking monkeys. In fact, he is the ringleader of monkeys.
Whitaker shrinks in on himself, clearly defeated. “Right. Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to overstep.”
Abbot watches the kid pull on his hoodie and slip on his sneakers, waiting to lock the door behind him. Whitaker lingers in the open door for a beat too long.
“I really want to intern at the Pitt.”
Abbot stays stoic. “Okay?”
“If–if Doctor Robby doesn't feel comfortable with having me work with him, then I would be honored to join the night shift, Sir.”
Jack can't stop the chuff that leaves him. He steps forwards and pats Whitaker roughly on the arm.
“I'd love to have you, but I'm pretty sure Robby would fight me tooth and nail.” He watches the glimmer return to Whitaker's eyes, and proceeds to nudge him out the door like a stray cat. “Now shoo.”
Chapter 11: October 1st (Pt. 2)
Chapter Text
Chapter 12: January 1st (Pt. 1)
Summary:
Dennis struggles to keep the no-contact rule. He manages two months, until he makes his own drunken mistake.
Like mentor, like student.
Chapter Text
Time somehow both drags on and goes by in an instant. Weeks turn into months. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas– When Dennis isn’t working his ass off, and the stars align, he’s able to spend some of the holidays with Amy’s family, or Trinity if she opts out of going home.
Even though a lot of the work slows down in the winter, Dennis always finds something to do on the farm; especially since Theo was born. Amy ended up having Theo in PTMC, which was pretty damn convenient. He had to miss out on the actual day due to his ortho rotation schedule, but he was able to stop by to meet the little guy pretty soon after his shift.
He learns how to change diapers, swaddle, and soothe cries of Theo. He’s already done a rotation of pedes, but being close to the family of the baby does make everything feel a little more significant in the long run.
In December, Garcia starts to hang around the apartment on her days off. That woman scares the shit out of Dennis–all sharp edges and cutting remarks–he’s really not sure what Trinity sees in her, but whatever. She’d probably say the same thing if she knew about his feelings on Robby.
Fuck, Robby.
He almost texts him a million times. About his progress. Just to check in. To wish him a happy Thanksgiving, or Hanukkah. Dennis isn’t even sure he celebrates. Especially not after he recalls their chat they had after his ’silent moment of reflection’ on his first day.
I don’t know if I actually believe in God. Especially on days like today.
Each time his thumbs hover over the keyboard, he backs out. He doesn’t want to ruin his chances. Not now. Not when he’s so close to being right where he wants to be–an R1 in the ED. Working alongside Robby, hearing words of wisdom–of praise–and feeling calloused fingertips grip at the base of his neck to steer him whichever way Robby decides he needs to go.
Then, it’s New Year’s Eve.
Trinity takes him bar hopping downtown and he gets drunk. Drunk enough to pull out his phone and type out a text to Robby. He never deleted his number or their chat history. Maybe it was stupid of him, but sometimes he’d just scroll back and look at those desperate, begging messages just to feel something again.
He’s such a loser.
He types, and deletes. And types more, then backtracks again. Dennis stares at the blank message box for far too long, leaning on the sticky bar as his brain buzzes in his skull.
Behind him, he hears the count down. Ten…nine…eight…
He types. He deletes. He can feel his heart rattling his ribs.
Four…three…two…
ROBBY'S POV
Robby stares down at the dimmed screen of his phone as it threatens to lock on him.
I know you would treat me right I trust you
His eyes flit over to the empty glass, and the bottle of whiskey that sits uncapped next to it. He remembers a few years ago Jack told him it’s ‘downright scary’ how good Robby is at faking sober texts.
On his TV is the aftermath of the ball drop in Times Square. People freezing to death in the city, making out sloppily with some sort of bland pop song layered over the cheers. His apartment is otherwise deathly still.
The sense of dread that hung heavy from his heart strings just a couple minutes ago has dissipated, thanks to Whitaker's texts.
Robby shifts in his seat on the couch and regrets it when he feels his sweats tighten around his half-hard dick.
He looks down and adjusts himself. “Fuck, that's just sad.”
Just a couple vaguely horny texts from him and he's already excited. Flashes of his pale, naked body flicker behind Robby's eyelids. Small, soft breasts with nipples pebbled. A thin, pallid waist being gripped by an unworthy jackass lucky enough to stick his dick in his perfectly pink, wet cunt. His pretty red lips, swollen and wet, open in a perfect o as he whines for more, more, more–
Now he regrets calling Whitaker that Uber.
There's no plan in place to sleep with him. Not by a longshot. He may be a lonely, horny, perverted old man but he does have standards set in place for himself. Taking advantage of his wasted soon to be intern is not on the table. Never was.
Selfishly, he just doesn't want to be alone right now. If nothing else, Whitaker will be someone he can take care of to keep his mind off much darker thoughts, just like he would do on the clock.
If that means leading him on, then so be it. He'll probably hate him in the morning either way.
Robby tracks the Uber from across town. He watches the little blip stop in front of the club for about five minutes. Then it starts moving again. ETA is twenty minutes.
In the meantime, Robby turns off the TV and carefully makes his way over to his record player. He's just a tad wobbly but he manages to put on a record without any hiccups. The one that calls to him tonight is The Smiths’ Hatful of Hollow.
He's glad the needle can put itself down easily with a switch. Robby's trembling hands wouldn't do him much good.
Robby sits back down on the couch and pours himself a finger more of whiskey, only to throw back the glass immediately. It's warm going down his throat.
The Uber pings that it's ten minutes out.
He gets up to put the bottle away and sets the glass in the sink for later.
Five minutes away.
Every single cell in his body is telling him this is a massive mistake.
Thank you for using Uber. Rate your driver?
Robby remembers the last time he came home drunk he'd almost face planted on the curb cutting across his driveway. He slips on his scrappy sneakers from his shoe rack and opens his door, only to see Whitaker already standing on his front steps. The sight of him has the breath catching in Robby's throat.
He looks different than the last time he saw him. His shoulders are a bit broader, his form more solid. The curls on his head are growing out of their awkward farm boy cut. His face has more color to it.
Though the flush may just be because he's inebriated. He sways like a willow branch on his feet. His blue hues, forever wide, are glazed over but intently locked on him.
Robby stupidly stares back without a damn thought forming on his lips.
Whitaker wastes no time. He throws his weight carelessly against Robby and unceremoniously crashes their lips together. It completely catches him off guard and has him stumbling backwards. His hands reach up to steady Whitaker by his waist as warmth coils tight in his belly.
His lips are soft.
He can taste tequila on them.
Robby snaps back to reality and detaches himself from Dennis, standing him upright. “Hey–this isn’t right.”
The kid pouts. “I don't care.”
Again, he lunges for a kiss. Robby has to use a decent amount of strength to stop him. “You're wasted, Whitaker.”
He huffs, eyes growing wet. “But you promised!”
“I promised that I would call you an Uber. Nothing more.” He's not sure what's worse; this half-buzzed plan or the look of devastation that spreads across Whitaker's features.
Robby holds up his hands in peace and sucks in a shaky breath. “I wanted to see you. I really did, but–”
“But I'm a fucking freak and you don't want me like that.” Dennis is quick to this conclusion and says it with a wavering conviction, like he's heard it a million times before. Those sad, round eyes drop to stare at his feet. He looks like a kicked puppy, with his bottom lip dejectedly jutting out.
Robby's face twists into shock. “No. No.” He gently reaches out to Whitaker, allowing his hands to rest on his shoulders. “That is absolutely not the case. Hey–” Robby dips his head down to force Whitaker to meet his gaze. “Look at me. There is nothing wrong with you, Whitaker.”
He doesn't look convinced.
The freezing winter air is starting to seep into his house.
“Okay. Just take a seat on the couch for now. I'll get you a cup of water.”
With a bit more convincing, Robby is able to lead Dennis over to the couch. He shuts his door, kicks off the shoes he thought he had needed, and he fills a cup up with ice water.
Even in this state, Dennis remembered his manners and took his shoes off, leaving them somewhat neatly at the foot of his coffee table. He's sitting straight up, on the edge of the couch cushion, staring ahead at nothing in particular with glassy eyes and his hands shoved between his thighs.
Robby sighs and sits a safe distance away, offering him the water. “Pittsburgh's finest?” Dennis shakes his head. Robby resigns and abandons the glass on the table for now. “Alright. Maybe in a bit. Do you want to take your jacket off? It's nice and warm in here.”
Whitaker's shoulders go rigid. “Why did you even invite me here?”
That is the question, isn't it? Robby doesn't want to admit to the truth–that he was sad and lonely and thinking about blowing his fucking brains out for the umpteenth time.
Instead, he rubs at the back of his neck and stupidly says, “I don't know. There's…something about you that makes it hard for me to say no.”
Well, it at least brings a grin back onto Dennis’s face. The flush on his cheeks turns a deeper shade of pink as he fidgets with his fingers. He turns those doe eyes on him, and Robby's close to folding.
“Really?”
Something catches in his throat. He can't bring himself to speak it into existence, so he just nods and deflects. “Let me take your jacket?”
This time, Whitaker obliges. He unzips the front and begins to shimmy his arms out and may God have mercy on him.
The shirt is less of a shirt and more of a suggestion. It's the cut of a T-shirt, but it's nothing more than a tightly knit black mesh thing with some dazzling silver glitter woven into the fabric. Robby can see through the entire thing, to Dennis’s slightly toned chest and soft stomach. There’s now twin scars under his pecs. Tucked into the shirt is a simple silver cross necklace.
Robby wills his lungs to work as he takes Whitaker's coat and hangs it by the door. When he returns, he's glad to see the man sipping some water.
“You look nice.” Nice isn't the first word that springs to Robby's mind, but it's the most appropriate one he can think of off the top of his head. “You were out with Santos, right?”
Whitaker nods and sets the cup down. He finally begins to sink back into the cushions. When Robby skirts around the couch again, Whitaker reaches out for his shirt. He's clumsy and slow, but Robby doesn't stop him from tugging him down next to him, much closer than he was previously.
“Stop playing the part of the nice guy. You know why I came here.” His words slur in certain places, but his eyes are unwavering.
Robby swallows past the lump in his throat. “I know,” he amends.
Whitaker moves closer, his other hand sliding up Robby's thigh. Every nerve that he touches is set on fire. “So why won't you let me have this?” His voice grows soft and breathy.
“Because you're drunk.” He holds firm on that.
“But if you wanted me when you were drunk, and I want you when I'm drunk, doesn't that cancel things out?”
Yep. That's drunk logic. Robby gives a pathetic attempt to slide away from Whitaker as he closes in on him.
At work, he is a force to be reckoned with. He's not afraid to dig his heels in when he knows he’s right. He will argue with shitty parents, shitty patients, surgeons, and fucking Gloria until he's blue in the face. But here? Barely buzzed with one longing glance from Dennis Whitaker, Robby completely crumbles.
The hand Dennis was using to anchor Robby by his shirt releases, sliding up to cup the nape of his neck instead. His fingertips are cold. His lips are warm and inviting; they taste like tequila and a sweet syrup mixer. One simple swipe of wet tongue against his bottom lip, and Robby lets him in.
The softness of the kiss is quickly replaced with hunger. Heated gasps and tongue against tongue leave Robby breathless and twitching in his pants. Dennis climbs into his lap with ease, his hands groping at every part of him that he can reach.
He needs to stop this. It isn't right.
“Wait–” Robby tries to speak between kisses, but he isn't given much leeway. Whitaker grinds down on his bulge and that's enough for him to panic and yank the kid off him. “Whitaker. This is–”
“Fucking hot,” he finishes the sentence for him. His pupils are blown and his lips are glistening with saliva. His palms reach up to cup Robby's face. “You have no idea how many times I've thought of doing something like this with you.”
Robby presses his mouth into a thin line. He's not sure when his hands ended up squeezing Whitaker's waist, but his grip goes lax. I know. I think of you every time my dick is in my hand.
“I can't. I really can't do anything with you, especially in this state, Whi–”
“Dennis,” he corrects.
The name feels foreign on his tongue. It's a reminder that they aren't on the clock; right now they're just two bodies looking for comfort. “Dennis, then.” A small, soft smile is offered in a treaty.
Dennis grins back brightly as something clicks into place in his brain. “If you can't do anything, then just let me have something, okay?”
He shifts his position so one of his knees is right in between Robby's legs, then rolls his hips down against his thigh. It triggers a full-body shudder out of Dennis.
Robby's sure he’s beet red down to his neck at this point as he watches Dennis slowly begin to ride his thigh with reckless abandon. His lips are parted to allow angelic whimpers to drop freely from them. Not once does his half-lidded gaze stray from Robby; the shyness that this kid carries with him when sober is completely gone and replaced with raw confidence. Fuck, it's hot.
“Okay…” Robby murmurs, and returns his wide hands to Dennis's sides. “Okay.”
Dennis dips down to steal another wet kiss, his moans vibrating between their mouths. Robby doesn't let his hands wander down, rather he uses them as an anchor to assure that Dennis won't topple over. Or, perhaps they're more to ground Robby to this plane of existence as Dennis's knee grinds right into his throbbing cock.
The pace quickens, and Dennis pulls away from their kiss to press his forehead against Robby's. “Talk to me.”
Robby's eyes search Dennis's face for a way to say no, to draw the line at just the friction. But then, “Please, Robby.”
You fold for that kid like a cheap lawn chair, brother.
Abbot is somewhere laughing his ass off right now.
Robby rubs a palm along his side. “Take what you need, baby. I'm right here.”
Whitaker's eyes flutter and he takes in a sharp gasp. His hips switch into overdrive, and Robby really wishes he didn't feel the faint hardness of his clit through the thin fabric of his trousers, because now all he can think is it's gotten bigger since I've seen it.
“That's it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he encourages in a voice that Robby's not sure he's ever heard come out of his mouth. It's low and rumbles somewhere deep in his chest.
“Fuck–Robby–” Dennis whines and clutches tightly to Robby's shirt, peppering sloppy kisses along his cheek, jawline, and neck. “You feel so good.”
Every inch of Robby's sanity goes into talking Dennis through it. He focuses on showering him with praise so he can willfully ignore the painful erection still straining his boxers, begging for release.
It's not long before Dennis's hips begin to lose rhythm and stutter. His voice grows higher and his hands begin to shake as they glide over Robby’s chest, insatiable for their need to touch.
Then, Robby feels his world completely collapse in on itself.
“Am I a good boy?”
Is it possible to trigger a STEMI with just a few words? Robby's grip on Dennis turns to a bruising one as they lock eyes. Robby's are wide with disbelief, but Dennis's are pleading and expectant.
“Yes. Yes, Den. You're such a good boy.” Robby lets a hand reach up to cradle the back of Dennis’s head. “You’re doing so good. Just keep going.”
Dennis fists a hand in Robby's hair and yanks–knowingly or unknowingly he's not quite sure–and lets out the most beautiful moan that he's ever had grace his ears.
“Oh, fuck, don't stop, sir, please–I'm so close.”
Robby feels like a dog with a bone. He presses his lips close to the shell of Dennis’s ear and showers him with endless praises of good boy and you're doing such a good job, you're almost there.
It's not long until Dennis's hips are bucking erratically and violently against his sore thigh. Robby selfishly pulls away just in time to see Dennis's back arch and his eyes roll. He comes hard, his mouth open in a silent scream and his whole body shudders just for him and it's beautiful.
“That's it. There you go,” Robby whispers, rubbing his knuckles up and down Dennis's spine until he finally goes limp in his arms.
He nuzzles his face into Robby's neck and begins to catch his breath.Robby's eyes go to the ceiling in some form of silent prayer. If his Rabbi and Bubbe were wrong and there is a hell, then Robby is sure he just earned himself a front row seat.
Chapter 13: January 1st (Pt. 2)
Summary:
Regrets, regrets, regrets!!!
Chapter Text
No matter how late a night Dennis has, his body will always wake him up with the sun. He stirs in a bed with sheets too soft to be his own, in a room too big to be his, with an unfamiliar, sweet musky scent filling his nostrils.
His head is pounding, and the second he moves he feels the contents of his stomach shooting into his esophagus. Dennis scrambles to get to the nearest toilet and nearly trips over the trash can that has been left at the bedside. He’s just thankful he doesn’t ruin the nice carpet under his feet as he folds in on himself and lets everything out.
It burns and leaves Dennis’s stomach quivering, his muscles turned to jelly.
Once he’s sure there’s nothing left to come out, Dennis lifts his head to check his surroundings. He’s been here before–wait.Oh.
Oh no.
His phone is plugged in at the bedside table. Dennis trips over himself to get to it, unlocking and seeing the top two people in his messages. Trinity, and Robby. Just seeing his name opens the floodgates and last night’s memories wash over him. Sloppy kisses and rutting against his boss’s leg. The begging and pleading. The rough, low whisper of good boy said in his ear through hot breaths.
He pushed Robby into this. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Dennis feels sick all over again, but it goes deeper than just bile this time. He gets to his feet, feeling like a newborn doe the way his knees shake.
He remembers the aftermath, too. Robby made him drink more water, then helped him up to his bed. Dennis asked him again to do more than just fooling around.
“Are you sure? I know you’re hard.”
“I’m sure. I want you to get some rest.”
He complained about his shirt being itchy. Robby gave him an old tee to wear.
Dennis pulls at the hem of the shirt and looks down. It’s an old concert tee from 1996, two years before Dennis was born. He’s practically swimming in it. The flashier dress pants are greatly mismatched to it, but he really doesn’t want to change back into that mesh top. He barely had the confidence to wear it out last night to begin with. That was all Trinity’s doing.
He listens down the hall and hears the faint sizzling of grease on a frying pan coming from downstairs. Dread falls heavy on his shoulders. Instead of facing the music right away, he wanders into the bathroom across the hall to pee, then splashes cool water on his face and does his best to tame the wild curls on the crown of his head, where he clearly slept on them.
Is there any way he can just jump out the window?
The wall of texts from Trinity makes him feel guilty as hell, so he needs to tell her something to signal that he’s alive and well.
The wry word all he can manage before turning his phone on DND and making his way downstairs. The pounding headache persists, but he’s sure the deafening pulse in his ears is only half from his hangover, and the other half is from the anxiety of having to face Robby.
Accompanying the sizzle of a pan is what sounds like an audio book playing from a speaker. It’s enough noise that Robby doesn’t notice Dennis until he’s in his peripheral, awkwardly lingering at the edge of where wooden floorboards meet kitchen tile.
Robby rolls a few mini sausages in the pan, then turns his head and offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
Is this real? Is this happening right now?
“Uh…I’ve been better.”
Robby chuckles and pauses his book from his phone. “Oh, I bet. Luckily, I have the perfect remedy for a hangover.” He points down at the browned sausages and scrambled eggs with his metal spatula.
Dennis's mouth salivates as acid bubbles in his throat. He shakes his head wordlessly in refusal, afraid that he'll heave if he opens his mouth.
A grimace stretches across Robby's face as he dumps the food onto a paper plate. “That bad, huh?”
He wills himself to swallow and speaks at a sheepish volume, staring down at his socked feet. “I should go.”
Dennis hears a drawer open, followed by silverware clacking. When he looks up, two plates are dished out on the kitchen counter. Robby sticks a fork in each and gestures to the stool. The manufactured kindness in his eyes has shifted to a more stern look that he’s used to seeing in the ED.
Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Dennis shuffles over to the seat and carefully climbs up onto it. He folds his hands on the cold countertop, eyes still glued downwards.
Robby sighs and speaks with an even, soft voice. “We both fucked up. Can we at least agree on that?”
Dennis's head snaps up and he regrets it immediately as his temples pulse. “No–”
Robby raises a hand, and Dennis quiets. “I shouldn't have called that Uber to begin with. None of this would've happened if I'd just ignored your texts.”
“Why didn't you?” It's a fair question and by the look on Robby's face, not one he has a straight answer to just yet. He supplements an answer with a high shrug of his shoulders, lips tight together in an awkward grin.
“I…don't know. I really don't.”
Against his better judgment, Dennis begins to pick at the scrambled eggs, eventually stabbing a few chunks and carefully eating them. They're fluffy and well seasoned. His stomach doesn't seem to mind.
“Well, I fucked up by pressuring you into doing something. It wasn’t okay.”
Robby stalls his answer by eating a piece of sausage. The silence between them is deafening. Dennis chances another few bites of his own in the meantime.
“That's…not entirely true.”
Dennis's heart jumps. “What?”
Robby's head is still down, but he peers up through his lashes at Dennis. He swears the apples of his cheeks are red. “If I really didn't want anything to happen, I promise you, nothing would've happened.”
He slows his chewing as he processes that information. Dennis can hear Robby's voice from last night, clear as day. Take what you need, baby. I'm right here.
Dennis begins to slouch in his chair as his face glows hot. Robby's eyes are still fixated on him, calm and calculating. “I don't–are you sure?”
“I'm sure, De–Whitaker.” Robby clears his throat and brushes at the back of his head with his palm. “I was buzzed and lonely and wanted company.” He hesitates on the word lonely. “C'mon. Finish eating and I'll take you home.” He pauses. “Oh–”
Robby hops off his stool and fetches a glass of water that's sitting over by the sink. When he sets it in front of Dennis, he also puts down two capsule pills. “Hydrate, and something for the headache I'm sure you have.”
With a small muttered thanks, Dennis downs the pills and swallows a decent amount of water. He's reminded of the mess he left upstairs and a hot wash of shame falls on his body. “I…threw up in your trash can. I'll clean it up before we go.”
The attending shakes his head and swallows whatever food is in his mouth. “Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.”
Dennis frowns. “Are you sure?”
“It's a non-issue. I've cleaned up much worse, and you're a guest in my home.”
If there's one thing Dennis does know about Robby, it's how stubborn he can get. He saw it more than a few times in September. Plus, despite them being on somewhat neutral ground at the moment, Dennis still knows Robby as his boss, so he drops it.
Instead, he texts Trinity back finally.
ROBBY'S PHONE
DENNIS'S PHONE
Trinity
Today 8:49 AM
Trinity: Are you srsly just gonna lock urself in ur room rn
Dennis: im hungover
Trinity: yea and you just got dropped off by dr robby in his truck
Trinity: open the door
Trinity: im serious ill break it down
Dennis: no you wont youd lose your deposit
Trinity: ugh
Trinity: if you dont wanna talk can you at least txt me what happened
Trinity: i need to know how pissed off i have to be at robby
Dennis: you arent allowed to be mad at him this is mostly my fault
Trinity: he did not need to call u an uber dude
Trinity: thats all on him
Dennis: yeah but im the one who texted him shit like "i want you so bad"
Trinity: shut up
Trinity: no you didnt
Dennis: i have the texts trin
Dennis: i was fucking pathetic
Trinity: how long have you had a thing for him ????
Dennis: i dont know
Dennis: a while
Trinity: damn
Trinity: why didnt you tell me?
Dennis: because its weird and youre an asshole :)
Trinity: fuck you
Trinity: im here to listen now ok?
Trinity: no judgement
Dennis: ……🤨
Trinity: ok a little judgement
Dennis: idk how detailed you want me to get
Dennis: or where i should start
Trinity: ok start with the house call you made during the party because what the hell
Dennis: oh yeah ...
Dennis: robby drunk texted me and admitted that he knew about the stuff i was in
Trinity: holy shit
Dennis: yea
Dennis: he gave me his address and said he wanted to see me so ofc im a dumbass and drove there
Dennis: we didnt do anything i just got him up to his bed to lay down and then i stole his phone to call dr abbot to look after him
Trinity: heart of gold, huckleberry, just like i said
Trinity: and he didnt try ANYTHING?
Dennis: no
Dennis: idk i dont wanna go too into what we talked about its personal stuff
Trinity: kk
Trinity: continue
Dennis: idk he texted me the next day and i made it very clear that i still wanna intern for him and that i hoped this didnt change anything blah blah then he deleted my number
Trinity: cause he was afraid hed text you again ????
Dennis: i guess?
Trinity: oh hes down bad
Dennis: i think he was just embarrassed trin lol
Trinity: doubt, but go on
Dennis: we didnt talk after that but then last night i just kept thinking about him so i texted him happy new years and. then shit happened and i ended up at his place
Trinity: uhuh
Trinity: did you sleep with him
Dennis: no
Trinity: are you bullshitting me or being fr
Dennis: we fooled around i really dont know how else to describe it without going into detail which i rly dont want to do
Trinity: fine ill do it for you and you say yes or no
Dennis: please dont
Trinity: did you touch his dick
Dennis: no
Trinity: did he touch YOURS
Trinity: well. yk what i mean
Dennis: no
Trinity: was there grinding
Dennis: yea
Trinity: did any clothes come off
Dennis: no
Dennis: are we done w the 20 questions this is like asking a sibling about their sex life
Trinity: one more question ok shut up
Trinity: do you regret it
Trinity: like, at all?
Dennis: i dont know !!! it was fucking embarrassing and awkward the next morning and hes more than likely going to be my boss in like half a year's time and i dont know how the fuck im gonna look him in the eye ever again because i just KNOW all im gonna be thinking about is what happened between us
Trinity: hm
Dennis: but at the same time it was really hot
Trinity: you are so fucked
Dennis: i could say the same about you and your situationship w garcia
Trinity: asshole
Trinity: at least she's not my fucking attending !!!!
Dennis: still an unethical workplace relationship
Trinity: there is nothing wrong w a little lesbian sex between coworkers
Dennis: sureeeee
Dennis: keeping it casual right
Dennis: thats why you arent seeing anyone else right
Trinity: fuck off
Trinity: im taking a shower
Trinity: enjoy your unresolved daddy issues fuckleberry
Dennis: 👍👍👍
Chapter 14: January 28th
Summary:
After a month of moping, Trinity has had enough and tries to drag Dennis out in hopes of getting his mind off Robby.
Chapter Text
TRINITY'S PHONE
Da Gorls
Today 8:43 PM
you probably are wondering why ive gathered us here
Crash
???
Mel
Oh a girls group! How fun!!
Crash
what's going on
we need to get dennis laid
Mel
😮😮😮
I don't know if I'm much help with that
Crash
yeah lol me neither
well somethings gotta happen
his fuckass situationship left him high and dry and hes been moping all month
Mel
Oh no :(
I didn't know he had a boyfriend
Crash
actually i dont think i did either
not even fucking close to a boyfriend just an asshole who couldnt bother to communicate worth shit
i cant deal with his sad neglected hamster eyes anymore guys
if i had a heart it would be breaking
Mel
I think you have plenty of heart 💗 Not many people would do this for a friend
Crash
you cant break the illusion Mel, she might melt lol
are u gonna help me or no
Crash
i really dont want to because youre the one asking
but also i love dennis and want him to be happy
Mel
As long as you're sure he's okay with us helping him?
sure
Crash
considering this is a secret groupchat i dont think he knows we're even doing this
i was thinking up like a tinder for him to scope shit out
but im so shit at bios and stuff like wtf would we even write??
Crash
idk is gay tinder any different than straight tinder?? like vibe wise??
Mel
Wouldn't we need a lot of pictures of him?
another issue
bc he can never take a normal pic he has to be a fucking weirdo about it
Crash
is there rly nothing we can steal off his insta?
its all just fucking cows and sunsets and shit he never shows his face
Mel
Maybe just ask him?
ugh this is too much work maybe ill just drag him out to a gay bar
i just need to make sure he deleted that dudes number before i get him tipsy again
Crash
i take it hes a drunk texter
drunk texting is the whole reason for this predicament
Crash
that's rough, buddy
Mel
So you're going to be his wing-woman then?
yea duh
Crash
oh im sure this will go just fine
stfu im a great hype man
Crash
you nearly combusted trying to admit that you care about him
can you handle talking him up to random drunk men in a bar?
yes oh my godddd
ye of little faith
Crash
can you blame me? ive seen how you talk about men lol
DENNIS'S PHONE
Chapter 15: January 29th
Summary:
Dennis's generationally bad luck strikes again.
Chapter Text
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
i fucking hate life i hate myself i hate whatever fucking shitty cosmic force put me on this earth!!!!
❤ 1 2:36 AM - January 29, 2026
Mel 🦄
@lovely_fairies
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
I don't know what happened but I am giving you a big vitual hug!!
❤ 1 7:45 AM - January 29, 2026
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
holy shit are you okay?
❤ 0 9:29 AM - January 29, 2026
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
men are overrated anyways
❤ 5 8:29 PM - January 29, 2026
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
amen to that
❤ 1 8:31 PM - January 29, 2026
just a guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
women 😝
❤ 1 8:55 PM - January 29, 2026
TRINITY'S PHONE
DENNIS'S PHONE
Mel
Today 8:58 PM
Mel: Hi Whitaker 🙂 I don't know what happened or what you're going through right now but I hope you know that I am always here to talk. Or listen, if you just need that.
Mel: I was on a walk in the park yesterday and saw this really cute squirrel that came right up to me 💗💗 Maybe he will brighten your day 🐿️🥜😊
Chapter 16: April 5th
Summary:
Months pass, and Dennis still has anxieties about seeing Robby again. After several failed attempts at dating, it takes some advice from a surprising party for him to expand his horizons.
Chapter Text
Dennis stares down at the text exchange from Amy, still in shock.
He has a type? Bullshit. He's been attracted to plenty of guys his own age. Things just never worked out.
It's not like dating is a perfect science, anyways.
Maybe he just sucks at it.
He opens Tinder and goes into his settings. His age range is currently 25-32. That's plenty of wiggle room. If he goes up to, like, 50, he's bound to run into more creeps than anything.
Dennis closes Tinder. He stares at the open folder, which shares a space with another app that he hasn't touched in ages.
It's not worth it. It's not worth it. No matter how much he wants to get laid, it's not worth it.
He thinks of Robby.
He opens Grindr.
Chapter 17: April 8th
Chapter Text
The first couple days are mostly just Dennis sloshing through faceless weirdos who send unsolicited pictures along with the most deprived messages known to man when they see his “Trans Male” tag. There are a few potential hookups, but either the chat goes dry, or something ‘comes up’.
On the fourth day, however, someone catches his eye. His display name is Ryan, and his display picture is of a kind looking man, with dark eyes and a warm smile. His black hair is peppered with gray, and so is his short, well-kept beard. It contrasts nicely with his rich olive skin.
Interest caught, he checks his profile and swipes for more pictures. The second is him shirtless on a tropical-looking beach, again smiling, with a volleyball under his arm. The third is him laying in bed with a large dog. The fourth is a mirror selfie of him in a fitted, navy-blue blazer.
Yeah. Out of his league.
Dennis backs out of the profile, closes the app, and turns his attention back on the TV. Trinity is torturing him with another episode of Grey's Anatomy. It's driving him insane–not because of the medical inaccuracies, but the fucking tiring, interpersonal dramas. Almost none of the characters have any redeeming qualities, so why the fuck would he care when something good happens to them?
Trinity shakes the half-full bag of chips and offers some to him. He shakes his head and curls his legs up under him, instead taking a sip of his water.
“Do you think any of our patients think of one of us as their McDreamy?” She smirks at him.
Dennis crumples up his nose. “I don't know. I don't really care, either.”
Trinity bites loudly into a chip, slowly looking over Dennis. “You know…I think a good up and comer might be you.”
He scoffs immediately and crosses his arms over his chest. “I highly doubt it.”
“Dude, have you looked at yourself lately?” She pulls her legs up to sit criss-cross, turning more towards Dennis. “Ever since you've been working at that fuckin’ farm your arms have gotten big. And your shoulders are broader.” She holds up a finger just as Dennis tries to argue, because her dishing out compliments is weird and unheard of. “Hush. Hear me out.”
She then pulls out her phone, opens Pinterest, and pulls up a skinny male model with about the same hair texture as Dennis, but his is cut into a messy-ish mullet. “Get rid of that fuckass haircut and you'll be a full-on heartthrob.”
…right. Dennis clocks Trinity for what she's doing; trying to make up for her ‘massive fuck-up’ in January. “I saw enough of those growing up in Nebraska, Trin. I don’t need to become a statistic.”
She shoves the phone closer to Dennis. “Ew, no, this is not that type of mullet. Look–we just shave down the sides a little and let the back grow out. You need a haircut anyways.”
He subconsciously runs a hand through the messy curls at the back of his head, feeling blindly for the length. It's been a rough couple months, so taking care of himself hasn't really been top priority.
“I'll get around to it eventually,” Dennis mutters. He's never really been a big fan of having any form of a ‘shaggy' haircut. Maybe it was just because of how he was raised. Men with ‘long’ hair were considered either lazy, or gay. And well–Dennis is at least one of those things.
Santos gives up for the time being. Just as he settles again, he feels his phone buzz at his feet.
Chapter 18: April 9th
Chapter Text
Trinity
Today 11:23 AM
Dennis: hey can i have that haircut pic you showed me
Trinity: what wait really
Dennis: yeah
Trinity: dont tell me ur gonna try to do it urself
Dennis: no im at a salon rn
Trinity: damn did the hookup go that bad? gotta change ur whole look now to compensate?
Dennis: no, actually
Dennis: he owns the salon and said he'd do the haircut himself :)
Trinity: 👀👀👀
Trinity: sounds like he's got some moneyyyy
Trinity: are you gonna be a sugar baby
Trinity: if so can u ask him to buy u a car so i can stop hauling ur ass around when theres not a bus in service
Dennis: can you please send the pic hes waiting
Trinity: fine fine
Trinity: 
Dennis: thank you
Trinity: show me when ur done
Dennis: 
Trinity: are u being held hostage
Dennis: no ffs you know how i am w pictures idk what to do
Dennis: i just had him take it
Trinity: well hallelujah u finally look like a normal gay boy
Trinity: who is this dude anyways
Trinity: must be p good if ur hanging out w him the night after a hookup
Trinity: or is that a gay guy thing idfk
Dennis: his name is Ryan and hes honestly the hottest man ive ever met 😩
Dennis: hes really sweet too
Trinity: hotter than how hot u apparently think he who shall not be named is?
Dennis: idk
Dennis: but he's hot and smart and has a dog
Trinity: and apparently owns a salon
Dennis: he owns two actually
Trinity: WOOOOOW 🥱
Dennis: ugh can you shut up and be happy for me for like 2 seconds this is literally what you wanted
Trinity: ok fine. im happy for u.
Trinity: just keep him out of the apartment and dont talk to me about his dick
Trinity: and float some of that sweet sugar baby cash my way if he's giving handouts
Trinity: wait actually how old is this dude
Dennis: uh
Dennis: like. 48
Trinity: oh my fucking god huckleberry
Trinity: be so fr now
Trinity: why is your type geriatric men
Trinity: is this a rebound
Dennis: no !!! i guess i just like older men idk none of the guys i went out with before really interested me so i upped my slider bc amy suggested it
Trinity: does he have a beard
Dennis: kind of?
Trinity: 
Trinity: yk what. im not gonna say anything.
Dennis: you kinda already said something
Trinity: nope im happy for u and i hope u and Ryan have a great time
Trinity: date the shit out of him and make sure he treats u right
Dennis: didnt know it was possible for someone to sound so disingenuous over text
Dennis: but whatever
Dennis: im seeing him again tomorrow night so if u want time w garcia then be my guest
Trinity: 🖕 🖕 🖕
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
met the hottest guy ever idk why he wants me but holy shit he does
❤ 3 1:09 PM - April 9, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
omg? do tell 👀
❤ 0 1:09 PM - April 9, 2025
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
replying to @notasavanttt
hes so polite and has a dog and cooked me a big breakfast this morning 😇😇😇
❤ 0 1:09 PM - April 9, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
ugh does he have a straight brother by any chance???
❤ 0 1:11 PM - April 9, 2025
Chapter 19: April 23rd Pt. 1
Summary:
The universe can't let Dennis go unscathed for too long, clearly.
Chapter Text
den !
@brokefarmboyyy
two weeks and counting w/ him and couldn't be happier
❤ 2 11:44 AM - April 23, 2025
Mel 🦄
@lovely_fairies
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
I'm so happy for you 🥺❤️
❤ 1 11:47 AM - April 23, 2025
just a guy
@trinsansduh
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
if i have to hear abt this dude any more than i already do them im putting a gun to my head
❤ 0 11:55 AM - April 23, 2025
V
@notasavanttt
replying to @brokefarmboyyy
ignore santos 🙄 I'm sooo happy for you!!! (and lowk jealous)
❤ 1 11:55 AM - April 23, 2025
The air is crisply cool. Dennis is keeping his poorly circulated hands in his pockets for warmth as he walks alongside Ryan and his dog, Bowie.
Bowie is a very sweet five year old German Shepherd mix, and a trained medical alert dog. He's smart as a whip and loves to play fetch, as Dennis quickly learned. Her vest has a bunch of different patches stuck on it–there's a pride flag, a pair of scissors to represent Ryan’s business, and of course, the mandatory SERVICE DOG DO NOT PET.
In the small window of time that they have been going out, Dennis has learned that people don't fucking read for shit. Nor do they bother controlling their kids–and more worriedly, their own dogs.
They're only a block away from PTMC. Dennis does his best to ignore the clenching in his chest, and instead listens to Ryan as he chats about some drama going on between two of the hairstylists he employs.
Just up ahead, an older man is walking their way with a massive dog on a leash. The moment the dog locks eyes with Bowie, it lunges. The leash slips from the man's hands and he yelps at the friction burn he probably just suffered.
“Hey–Bruno! No!” The man yells, but makes no urgent moves to stop the damn dog as it books it, guttural barking piercing the air.
Dennis acts before he can think and paces ahead of Ryan and Bowie. He's wrangled cattle before, this shouldn't be a problem.
“Dennis, wait–!”
He dives for the leash as the dog zips past him–and holy fuck this dog is stronger than he thought. Underestimating its strength, Dennis is quickly spun around on his heel as the dog beelines it towards Bowie. An object in motion stays in motion, so–
There's not much Dennis can do when he falls face first on the concrete. He sees stars and feels his nose crunch. The moment he picks himself up off the pavement, he feels something warm and thick pour down his lips. He tastes iron in his mouth, and his teeth–which clattered together on impact–ache.
Dazed and confused, he climbs to his feet, one hand clutching his nose, knees stinging, and this time he's able to grab the leash. The dog is just standing a foot away from Bowie's face–which is currently being shielded by Ryan's body–snarling and barking with its tail between its legs.
He wraps the leash around his hand once, twice, and yanks. The dog does not break its concentration despite being choked, and when Dennis turns to see the owner still lazily shouting after him at a strolling pace, he loses it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Come get your fucking dog!” His voice is raw with anger as he drags the untrained animal away from Ryan and Bowie, which is the only time the man seems to give a fuck.
He argues about how ‘he's harmless’ and ‘why'd you grab his leash like that?’ like Dennis is the one at fault.
Dennis has some choice words for the shit owner that he can't even recall the moment they leave his split lips–but eventually they go their separate ways.
Ryan is at his side, warmly rubbing his back.
“Jesus, Dennis. Are you okay?”
Dennis turns to spit a mixture of blood and phlegm onto the sidewalk before he realizes how gross that probably looks. His words come out stuffy as he pinches high on the bridge of his nose. “ ‘M fine. Not the first time I've busted my face up.”
He meets Ryan's soft eyes, which slowly crinkle to a smile. “My hero.” There's not an ounce of irony in his tone. “Good thing we're riiight down the street from the ER, yeah?”
Suddenly, Dennis feels a cold sweat break out on his neck. “Oh, uh–no. It's okay. I can patch myself up.”
Ryan shakes his head. “Absolutely not. You took a full header–you could have a concussion, Den.”
Fuck.
He's fine. Maybe Robby isn't working today. Why would it matter, anyways? He's over him.
“Besides,” Ryan continues, “I'd love to meet some of your future co-workers.”
「 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 」
The waiting room is packed, per usual. Not as bad as some days, but it's definitely not any light work. Ryan finds him a box of tissues and plucks out at least five to give to Dennis as they get in line.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, then, a little louder, he says “Looks like you're gonna get the full ER experience today. Waiting time included.”
Or not.
The security doors leading into triage open, and out comes McKay with iPad in hand. She looks up, mouth open to call out a name, then her eyes lock on Dennis. Immediately, she snaps her jaw shut and weaves through the crowd, worry etched into her features.
“Whitaker?” She lays a hand gently on his upper back. “What the hell happened to you?”
Dennis sighs. “Runaway dog. Grabbed the leash and face planted outside.”
“Oh shit. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”
McKay tries to ease Dennis out of the line, but he digs his heels in. “Um. Is it okay if my friend comes back with me?” He tilts his head towards Ryan, who is hovering behind him quietly.
McKay looks at Ryan, then back to Dennis, eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. “Yeah, of course. C'mon back.”
She leads them back towards triage, and of course a few people waiting in chairs huff in disdain and grumble their own complaints. Ryan hangs close, his hand barely brushing at the small of his back.
“Remind me to bring you if I ever end up here. Skipping the line is nice,” he teases lightly.
Dennis snorts, and regrets it as his nose throbs in protest.
“That's a service dog, right?” McKay asks as she presses her badge to the scanner, then backs through the door as they click open.
Ryan nods. “Yes ma'am.”
She mirrors a nod back and holds the door open for the three of them to walk through. “Alright, just have to ask.”
They're set up in West 12. McKay gets his vitals while Ryan stands against the wall with Bowie placed right at his feet as told.
As McKay is checking his pupils for signs of a concussion, a short blur of a figure walks by behind the glass. Then, the figure backtracks, and opens the door.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what the hell happened to you, kid?” Dana props open the door with her hip. “You get in a fight?”
McKay turns off the pen light and tucks it back into her scrub pocket. She spins around on her stool and rolls towards the computer. “He took a nasty fall. Might have a nasal fracture but no concussion, as far as I can see.”
“When I said we wanted you back, this is not what I meant, Whitaker.” Dana crosses her arms over her chest. Her gaze wanders over to Ryan and she eyes him with a quirked eyebrow, but doesn't comment. “Well, I don't need to tell you you're in good hands. Stop by the nurse’s station before you go, would ‘ya?”
Dennis chances a smile through the pain. “Of course. Good to see you, Dana.”
Dana clicks her tongue, winks, then steps out of the room.
“Alright, just hang here for a few, and I'll come back to clean you up, slugger.” McKay nudges his knee, then heads for the door.
“Wait–” Dennis says before he realizes what the hell he's doing. McKay turns. “Um…is Doctor Robby working today?”
She huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, of course, why? You want me to go get him?”
Panic settles in. “No, actually I–” He purses his lips in a tight line. The cut on the bottom stings. “Could you not let him know I'm here? It's just…” Dennis trails off and he drops his eyes to the tiled floor.
“I get it. It's embarrassing.” McKay shrugs. “I won't say anything, but if he asks, he asks.”
Dennis mutters a weak thanks as McKay excuses herself. He lets out a long sigh and slumps a little in his seat. His ears are ringing in the newfound silence, his face is pounding, and now he's been called kid in front of his new…boyfriend? He's not quite sure what they are, yet.
Ryan shuffles his feet out a little and leans his weight more on the wall than on his legs. “I have a feeling we just started a nasty rumor mill.”
Dennis turns his head to Ryan, his face going hot. “Well–I mean I never told anyone minus the other students I was with that I was gay, but everyone here is pretty accepting.”
The older man shakes his head, and Dennis can sense a twinge of nervousness coming off of him. “Not like that, sweetheart.”
Puzzled, Dennis tilts his head. “What do you mean, then?”
“Young guy like yourself, comes into the ER with a man double his age, all beat up?” Ryan gestures to his face with a pointed finger. “They're gonna assume that I did that to you.”
Dennis blanches. “What? No–no! They aren't–”
He stops to think about it as if he were the doctor treating said patient, with company in tow. Had it been anyone that wasn't him…
“Shit. I'm so sorry…”
Ryan only smiles, though this time it doesn't reach his eyes. He joins Dennis on the ledge of the hospital bed. “It's okay. I can handle some judgement. I've gone my whole life dealing with it.”
Apparently, Dennis was born a fuckup. Though his dad would say this is old news to him.
He shoves his hands between his thighs to avoid fidgeting as he awaits for McKay's return, his mind racing. Ryan is just proving to be better by the day. Dennis was all nerves that first night they hooked up; he expected to be just another gay guy's experience. A toy to play with for their pleasure, just to throw away once they're bored.
Not Ryan. He listened to Dennis ramble, made him feel wanted. Made him feel attractive.
Ryan curls an arm around his waist and gives him a small squeeze. “Is it weird for me to say that watching you yell at that old man while you wrangled a Great Dane with one arm kind of turned me on?”
Dennis chuffs and his face pulses in complaint. “I just can't believe that happened at all. I mean, what the fuck would happen to you if Bowie actually got attacked, y'know?”
“Unfortunately, it's not the first or the last time it'll happen.” He shrugs and leans his head carefully against the top of Dennis's. He wishes his nose wasn't completely fucked, he likes the smell of his cologne. “It was nice to have someone else there, though. I really do appreciate it–though you better not pull a stunt like that again.”
“No promises.”
The door opens and McKay is back, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Ready, Whitaker?”
Dennis grimaces. “Not really.”
McKay is quick but thorough with cleaning up the scrapes on his face, then comes the fun part: his nose.
“Pin prick and some burning.” She's injecting the lidocaine when she asks: “Have you broken your nose before?”
He blinks away the tears in his eyes as his nose stings with the local anesthesia. He can see Ryan turning his head away completely as she does this.
“Uh…yeah,” Dennis answers once the needle is out, “but I set it myself.”
McKay blows air. “Woof. You're a tough cookie, aren't you?”
Dennis shrugs. He can already feel the pain subsiding, which is a blessing. “Grew up in a small town, on a farm. Didn't really wanna deal with driving an hour to the nearest hospital for a broken nose.”
She chuckles. “That actually makes a ton of sense. You killed a rat with your bare hands on day one, didn't you?”
Oh god.
Ryan's thick eyebrows raise and he looks at Dennis with curiosity. “You did what?”
Dennis flushes, and it just makes his headache worse. “It's–a long story. Don't worry about it. Can you please just fix my nose?”
McKay pulls her lips in to bite back a laugh, looking to Ryan, then back at Dennis. “Yes, sorry. Just so you know, though–”
The triage door opens, and Dennis's heart drops into his stomach.
“Doctor McKay, are you–” Robby freezes mid sentence the moment his eyes find Dennis, the hot fucking mess that he is; his shirt caked with dried blood, his forehead scuffed and bruised, his lip split open.
Robby's hand is still wrapped around the door handle, and his grip tightens. He quickly schools his expression back into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Dennis feels sick.
“Sorry to interrupt. Dana told me you had quite the fall, Whitaker.” His eyes drift to Ryan for a beat too long.
Dennis tenses. “Uh…yeah, I guess. Nothing too bad. Doctor McKay was just about to fix my nose.”
Robby’s eyes move from Ryan on the tail end of Dennis's explanation. “Right. I'll leave you to it. Doctor McKay, come find me when you're done.”
And just like that, he's gone. The tension in the air doesn't fully dissipate, and Dennis is sure that everyone can feel it.
He swallows hard, his throat dry, and tips his head to McKay. “Do your worst.”
The crackle that the cartilage makes is deafening in Dennis's skull, and he's pretty sure Ryan nearly gags, but his nose is…relatively straight again. McKay throws some gauze in his nostrils, puts a splint on the bridge of his nose, and that's that.
Even through the popping of cartilage, Dennis's mind was on Robby, and how he looked at him like a deer in headlights. Fuck. Maybe they really wouldn't be able to work together. Not if that's how he's going to be. Not if Dennis feels nauseated every time he enters the room.
It’s just because none of this was planned. Dennis didn't plan on breaking his nose and taking a trip to the ER, and Robby sure as hell wasn't expecting to see Dennis until July rolled around. He's early by about a month and some change.
If Ryan has any inkling about Dennis's mood shift, he doesn't verbalize it. He just lets Dennis show him to the central hub, which he explains is Dana's command center of sorts.
Dana pulls up a rolling chair for him and Dennis (after refusing once and being scolded), sits. He sees one look of himself in the reflection of his phone screen and decides to take a picture to send to Trinity. Don't get mugged, she says.
Well, he fucking didn't, thats for sure.
“Here,” Dana says and tosses him an ice pack that he nearly fumbles. She tucks her glasses away and places a hand on her hip. “So, are you gonna introduce me to your friend?”
Dennis looks from Dana, to Ryan, and somehow this is worse than if he were to introduce Ryan to his actual mom. At least he didn't give a fuck what she thought. But Dana?
“Um…this is Ryan. He's, uh….” Shit, what is he?
Ryan comes in for the save, and reaches out a hand for Dana to shake. “Just a friend.”
Oh thank god.
Trinity
Today 12:47 PM
Dennis: 
Dennis: why would you do this to me
Trinity: HOLY SHIT
Trinity: no shot did you actually get fucking mugged
Trinity: are you okay ????
Dennis: im fine
Dennis: some dude dropped the leash to his dog and it went after Bowie
Dennis: so i fucking grabbed the leash and tried to pull him away but he was really fucking big and jerked on the leash and i faceplanted
Trinity: thats so unreal im crying
Trinity: you have the worst luck ever holy shit
Trinity: anything to get a glimpse of doctor robby before July huh
Dennis: shut up this fucking sucks
Dennis: Ryan is here with me and i have to act normal around him now
Dennis: i gotta go Dana is staring me down bc i took the ice off my face
Trinity: godspeed huckleberry
Dennis lets them chat while he shoots a few texts back and forth to Trinity. That is, until he feels the charge nurse giving him a side-eye, and he remembers his lap is cold because there's an ice pack sitting in it that he hasn't used yet.
He locks his phone and quickly puts the folded ice to his face.
“Whitaker, can I have a word?”
ROBBY'S POV
This all felt like some sort of cosmic joke. Dana pulls Robby aside on his way to check in on one of Mohan’s patients and informs him that Whitaker is currently in triage with McKay. As a patient.
Part of him wants to drop everything and check on his status right at that moment, but Dana watches his eyes go wide and immediately placates him with a rundown of the minor injury.
“He came alone?” Robby asks in a hushed tone.
Dana shakes her head. “An older gentleman is with him.” Something in the undertones of her voice has Robby on edge.
“And…?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “And I don't know. I didn't start an interrogation.”
Robby scrubs a hand over his beard. “It sounds like you have something else you want to say, so say it.”
Dana cocks her head to the side, eyebrows raised. “You're actin’ like a dog begging to be thrown scraps. I think you're the one who has something to say.”
He clenches his jaw and widens his stance as his arms come up to cross over his chest. “Nothing I want to tell you. Especially not with how gossip spreads like wildfire at the nurse's station.”
She scoffs, indignant. “Right, yeah. Now the claws come out. I swear to Christ, your attitude is gettin’ worse every damn day.”
Had anyone else said that to his face, they'd be getting chewed out. Unfortunately, Dana knows damn well he isn't going to pick a fight with the charge nurse–both because she's the charge nurse and, despite all the shit they give each other, Dana is one of the few souls that can keep him relatively grounded when shit gets bad.
Robby's eyes go to the ceiling and he sucks in a deep breath, only to let it out with hopes that the CO2 drags some of his anger out of his system with it. He mechanically smiles and refocuses his attention back onto Dana.
“Thank you for the heads up. If I have the time, I'll drop by to see how he's doing.” His words are stilted, like he's reading from a teleprompter.
Dana gives him one last charged look, and with plenty of venom to spare, she says “You're welcome.”
He bumps into Cassie soon after. She tries to skirt Robby, but he catches her grabbing Lidocaine from the ADC.
“You've got Whitaker in triage?”
Her shoulders lower a tad, and she hesitantly nods as she pulls out a vial. “Yeah…he asked me not to tell you. I think he's embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” He echoes back with feigned ignorance. He knows the much more probable reasoning behind his request. As the seconds tick by, Robby feels a heavy weight slowly pressing down on his chest.
McKay shrugs as she watches the ADC lock up. She jumps when she turns, clearly not expecting Robby to be hovering so close. “Can't blame him. Coming in with a boyfriend that's double your age is bound to turn some heads.”
“Boyfriend?” He says far too quickly.
She slowly nods, her eyes flicking to the side and back. “I think that's what's going on, at least. I don’t know. I'm not getting any weird vibes, but…” Cassie pauses to lower her tone. “Coming in with his face busted up from a fall, with a guy close to your age…I don't know. Maybe someone should try to talk to him on his own. Just in case?”
It feels as if the floor beneath Robby has collapsed under the soles of his shoes. He waits far too long to answer, nodding his head repeatedly as he rubs at his neck to forcefully self-soothe. “Yeah. Yeah. I'll try to figure something out. Thank you.”
McKay has already started the trek back to West 12 as Robby begins to spiral further. He desperately wants to be right on her heels–his boyfriend?–wants to be in the room where Whitaker is getting patched up–close to his age?–and he wants to make sure Whitaker is not alone in a room with a potential threat.
Robby needs to remind himself that this is all speculation, and what he's doing right now is exactly what Santos and other residents have done in the past; jumping to conclusions once the word abuse is thrown into the conversation.
Fuck, get your shit together, Robby.
Again, he tries to take a deep breath. He should get literally anyone else but him on this case. Unfortunately, Cassie came to him because he’s the damn attending and this is part of his job.
He staggers his timing, giving McKay time to settle, then makes his way to West 12 with a fake excuse in his pocket.
“Doctor McKay, are you–”
Unfortunately, having little to no time to mentally prepare himself for facing Whitaker for the first time in almost five months, he freezes solid the moment he lays eyes on him. His fingers curl harder around the metal handle, hoping the hard edge pressing against his palm will help keep him grounded.
“Sorry to interrupt. Dana told me you had quite the fall, Whitaker.” Every word feels foreign on his tongue. He pushes on a sorry excuse for a smile and his eyes shoot to the large man hovering by the wall.
He's striking, he'll give him that. Dark waves of hair, rich olive skin, a well-maintained, short beard; and he's damn near as tall as Robby. Might be taller, if he weren't leaning against the wall.
“Uh…yeah, I guess. Nothing too bad. Doctor McKay was just about to fix my nose.”
It's miniscule, but the man's head twitches towards Robby. One eyebrow raises just a tad, as if sizing him up.
Or maybe it's Robby doing the sizing up.
Robby forces his eyes away from Mr. tall, dark, and handsome, and places them somewhere behind Whitaker's head. He can’t look him in the eye. Not in this sad fucking state.
“Right. I'll leave you to it. Doctor McKay, come find me when you're done.”
「 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 」
Robby beelines for Dana after that. He asks her for a bit of a discreet distraction, but the entire first half of the conversation is just her eyeballing him with a look on her face that screams are you sure?
So, when she finally says it out loud, Robby nearly loses it. “You're sure you wanna be the one to have that conversation with the kid?”
He deflects. “It's my job, isn't it?”
Dana nods slowly. “Sure is.”
God, he hates when she does this. The fake, vague answer, just to make Robby the one to push the conversation deeper.
“But?”
She snorts and loosely throws a hand out to gesture at him. “Have you seen yourself? You look like you're ready to rip the poor bastard's boyfriend to shreds.”
“We don't know what their relationship is,” Robby begins, but his voice is too loud. Perlah and Princess turn just enough in their seats to exchange glances. “Okay,” he tries again, his voice just above a whisper, “just try to talk to the guy. I will grab Whitaker and pull him aside to ask him the routine questions. That's all.”
Dana could not look less convinced. Still, she picks her battles wisely and stands down. “Alright. Fine.”
DENNIS'S POV
Dennis can’t help the way his stomach flips when Robby calls for him. Not in the cute, romantic way, but in the way that a lake flips over after thawing in the spring; it brings the stench of rotting fish to the air, potent enough to make him gag.
He shoots Ryan a look as he takes the ice pack off his nose. Ryan gives him a small go-ahead nod, then turns back to Dana as she chats to him about Bowie.
When Dennis stands, his head throbs from the blood rush. He turns to finally lay eyes on Robby, who was leaning against one of the tall countertops of the hub.
“In private, if you don't mind.” While his voice is quiet, his tone is tense.
“Uh…yeah. Sure.”
He follows Robby into one of the empty behavioral health rooms. He shuts the door behind him, and all the bustle of the ER is gone. All that's left is Robby, Dennis, and a whole lot of charged air.
Robby leans back on the bed with the heels of his palms and crosses a leg over the other. His head tilts to the side, and Dennis can't calm his pulse.
“So…what happened?”
Dennis keeps his chin high. “You'll need to clarify. A lot of shit happened.”
Robby scoffs, a bitter smile on his lips. “To your face, Whitaker.”
“I fell.” He says flatly.
“Okay.” The attending nods, clearly not convinced. Jesus, he's sat in on these conversations with patients before. The ones that were both truly accidents, and those that were actual abuse. Being on the other side of it all really makes Dennis understand why people start yelling.
Dennis raises his eyebrows. “Is that all you wanted to ask about?”
Robby crosses his arms over his chest. “I'm just here to make sure all my staff are in safe situations, and also assure them that if something is going on behind the scenes, that this is a safe space.”
He can't help the laugh he barks out. “You're joking, right?”
Robby presses his lips together, his shoulders raising. “No.”
“I'm not being abused, Robby. I fell on my face because some asshole let go of their dog and it went after Bowie. I'm sure there's like twenty security cameras that picked it up if you're really that convinced.” Dennis knows his voice is rising in volume, but he can't stop himself at that point. “I know it might be hard for you to wrap your thick fucking head around that there's someone who actually wants to be with me and not keep me his dirty little secret–”
Robby's eyebrows fly up his forehead and he throws his hands out in defense. “Woah–what?”
The outburst of words catches up to Dennis, and his cheeks go beet red. Fuck. He hadn't realized how much had been piling up inside him. Only now, seeing Robby–no, being interrogated by him–did all the unfinished business and untold feelings truly start to boil over. He sounds like a child, and it's embarrassing.
“Whitaker, we made a drunken mistake five months ago. I thought we agreed to keep things professional, and that none of this would affect our relationship at work.”
They only had that conversation when it was Robby's snafu that led Dennis to his doorstep. Not when Dennis was the one to engage first.
He chews at his busted lip, not caring that it might open up the still-drying scab. Having this tense conversation with an entirely stuffed nose made things about twenty times more pathetic.
“Except that only happened when it was your fuck up. After mine, you blocked my number,” Dennis mutters and stares at his shoes, which have a few dried blood droplets on them.
Robby looks behind Dennis's shoulder, and the pause has Dennis following his gaze out the window to see Perlah, Princess, and McKay all turn away at the same time.
“This is not what I brought you in here to talk about.” Robby stands up straight again. He's back to cold professionalism, and it stings. “As long as you're safe, that's all that matters.”
Dennis feels a hand on his shoulder, but it's wrong. It's not warm and soothing, like Robby's touches used to be. His fingers are stiff, and he pulls back far too quickly. “I'll see you in July?”
Robby unlocks the door and holds it open for Dennis, but his legs feel like led. It's like a hole has been punched clean through his gut. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He's supposed to come back fresh, no baggage attached. Robby's supposed to take him under his wing and mentor him for his R1 year. Things are supposed to be civil. He wants to learn from Robby, not feel sick every time he throws a glance his way.
Dennis sucks in a silent breath and forces his legs to move. Nothing feels real. He doesn't even remember making it back to Ryan, nor does he remember when the hot tears started to sting his eyes.
Ryan places a hand on the small of Dennis's back. It's warm and comforting. “Oh, hey. Is everything alright?”
“Let's just get out of here. Please?” He chokes out. The pure frustration that he's crying in front of all his damn coworkers just makes the tears come harder.
“Yeah, alright. I'll call us a car. C'mon.” Ryan calls for Bowie to follow, says a hasty goodbye to Dana, and Dennis does his best not to feel the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes on his back as they leave.
rhododactylos on Chapter 1 Mon 18 May 2026 07:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
mazyreads on Chapter 3 Mon 18 May 2026 03:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
mazyreads on Chapter 5 Mon 18 May 2026 07:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
mazyreads on Chapter 8 Wed 20 May 2026 03:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Me_No_Spell on Chapter 8 Wed 27 May 2026 02:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
jingucci on Chapter 8 Wed 27 May 2026 02:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Void_Sp00ks on Chapter 11 Fri 22 May 2026 10:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Void_Sp00ks on Chapter 11 Fri 22 May 2026 10:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Me_No_Spell on Chapter 12 Wed 27 May 2026 03:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
rhododactylos on Chapter 13 Sat 23 May 2026 05:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
DayaT on Chapter 13 Sat 23 May 2026 07:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
piledriverhana on Chapter 13 Sat 23 May 2026 08:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
Alicenorthman on Chapter 13 Sat 23 May 2026 10:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
Emrys_Stilinski on Chapter 13 Sun 24 May 2026 11:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
jingucci on Chapter 13 Mon 25 May 2026 03:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
cgi_heart_eyes on Chapter 15 Tue 26 May 2026 04:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
blackbeardlesbo on Chapter 15 Tue 26 May 2026 09:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
jingucci on Chapter 15 Wed 27 May 2026 02:39AM UTC
Comment Actions