Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s not like Dennis has a bad relationship with his father.

Sure, sometimes it had seemed like his father had forgotten about him, or had forgotten his name. But he had been an older man when Dennis had been born, a surprise long after his parents had packed away his brothers' baby clothes.

They still talk on the phone occasionally. Well, when Dennis calls the house and his father is home. And is able to talk. So, maybe a couple of times a year. And Dennis sends him a Father’s Day card and a birthday card every year. And if Dennis doesn’t always get a birthday card himself, well, his dad is busy working the farm, helping with Dennis’s brothers and sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews.

So it’s not like he’s got, you know, daddy issues or something.

But he has realized that he tends to gravitate toward older men, sexually. In college, after a couple hook-ups with guys his own age, he’d found himself going to back rooms, alleyways, shadowy spaces, with men at least a decade, if not more, older than him.

There’s something about that wisdom, the wealth of experience. Dennis wants it to shine on him, he wants to learn from it, he wants to bask under the warm attention of it.

All of which to say, it’s not much of a mystery that he’d found himself drawn to Dr. Robby from his very first shift. That first shift had been a shitshow, almost from the start.

Sometimes, Dennis thinks about how calm it had seemed, at the very beginning. Dr. McKay had been showing the new students and residents around triage, onto the floor. He’d caught sight of one of the hottest men he’d ever seen – silvery curls, freckles, light stubble, muscles that had looked like he could toss Dennis anywhere…

And then he’d seen Dr. Robby.

The sad brown eyes had pulled him right in, and if they hadn’t been enough, all of the touching would have done it.

Dr. Robby’s hands had been a constant presence throughout the day, steering him around the ED floor, reassuring him. Dennis had tried not to read into it at first. That first day had been so weird, a strange confluence of heart-breaking cases, and then the MCI in the evening. It had to be abnormal, out of character, for Dr. Robby to put his hands on a med student so often, right?

But then he’d kept doing it. On each and every day of Dennis’s EM rotation, at least the ones where Dr. Robby was also working, Dennis had felt those hands landing on his shoulder, gently squeezing his neck, nudging his elbow. By the end of his four weeks in the Pitt, it wasn’t uncommon for Dennis to feel Robby brushing a hand at his lower back, against his hips.

He had no one to talk to about it. Trinity would probably have threatened to cut Dr. Robby’s balls off. And she was still prickly anyway about Dennis moving in with her. He hadn’t wanted to upset that precarious balance for something so minor.

So he hadn’t said anything, to anyone. He’d bitten his tongue to stop any noises that might come out when Dr. Robby’s hand had pushed up against the small of his back, enough pressure to feel his undershirt scraping against his skin. He’d pressed his lips closed tightly when he’d felt Robby’s fingers brush against the nape of his neck, almost like he’d been fingering the curls starting to grow out there.

And then his four-week EM rotation had ended. He’d had to say goodbye to all the friends he’d made on the day shift, and even a couple on the night shift, including Dr. Abbot, who he’d come to enjoy interacting with during handoffs at shift changes.

Dennis had been sad to see them all go, but he’d secretly wondered, if everything went according to plan, whether he’d be working down in the ED again. If his internship application was accepted. If he was able to match to PTMC.

He’d gotten through his Pediatrics rotation, his Physical Rehabilitation rotation, Interventional Radiology. He’d presented the findings of his longitudinal research project looking at subjective well-being among transgender adolescents who’d started taking puberty blockers.

And then it had been time for Match Day. Finally. The day when Dennis would learn where he’s going to be working for the next year, if not the next four years. He’d already promised to himself that if he didn’t manage to match to the Pitt for his internship year, he’d just reapply for his 2R. Mel had started at the Pitt in her second year; it wasn’t that strange. He’d known where he’d wanted to specialize by the end of his EM rotation.

Now, he just had to make it happen.

***

When Dennis wakes on Match Day, his body is tense. For a minute, he doesn’t understand the tightness in his neck, in his shoulders. But then, glancing at his lock screen, he sees the date. His stomach drops somewhere below his knees.

He startles at the sound of pounding on his door.

“Get up, Huckleberry. I know you’re awake. I can hear you scurrying around in there.”

“I’m not scurrying,” Dennis protests, but he throws back the covers and pulls his robe up his arms.

Trinity is standing in front of the coffee maker when he gets into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She glances at him and her face makes a sort of sympathetic expression before returning to something more neutral. The coffee maker beeps and she pours two mugs, handing one over to him as he passes by on the way to the fridge.

Dennis pulls out the chocolate creamer, one of his few splurges, and adds some to his mug, swirling it around rather than finding a spoon. He drops onto a kitchen chair and sighs loudly, taking a sip of coffee.

“You gonna go to the watch party with all your little med school friends?”

“Yeah. What else am I gonna do? Sit here pathetically alone, waiting for an email that may or may not change my life? I mean, in a good way?”

Trinity pulls a granola bar out of the pantry and starts munching on it. “Don’t forget we’re going out tonight.”

“Trin…”

“No, no, Huckleberry, you promised.”

“What if I don’t get a match?”

“Then you’ll be drinking for a different reason won’t you?” She finishes the granola bar and drops the wrapper in the garbage. She punches his arm as she downs the rest of her coffee, then sets the mug in the sink. “See ya, loser.”

Dennis hears the front door open and close a few minutes later and sighs again. The tradition of the MS4s waiting together to get their Match Day emails is long-standing. Dennis hopes it won’t be an exercise in humiliation. He shudders to imagine what would happen if he doesn’t match anywhere. Everyone else would be joyfully reading their emails and he’d just be sitting there, no one wanting him.

He shakes his head to clear the vision and decides to take a shower. Or maybe he’ll go for a run to take his mind off of it. Something to take up time between now and noon.

The rest of the morning passes by in a bit of a blur and Dennis finds himself sitting in a student lounge a few minutes before noon, surrounded by other members of his cohort. Some are milling around nervously, chattering to each other or themselves. Some are, like Dennis, sitting in chairs, hunched over, their phones clutched in their hands.

A few are projecting confidence, as though they already know their future. Dennis tries not to feel jealous of those people. All his life, it’s felt like he’s been last to be picked, last one chosen for the team. He hopes as much as he can, sends up a prayer to a God he’s not sure he believes in: just this once, let him be picked.

Phone notifications start going off around the room. Dennis had set his phone to vibrate so no one else will know whether or not he gets an email. A wave of smiles spread across the room as placement notices are received. Even if someone matches to a lower-ranked choice, it’s still a relief to have an internship, another step closer to being a real doctor.

Dennis’s eyes snap down to his phone as it vibrates in his hand. He bites the inside of his cheek as he unlocks his phone, thumbs open his email app.

Dear Dennis Whitaker,

Congratulations! We are pleased to announce that you have matched for your internship with: Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center – Emergency Department.

Here are the next steps as you navigate the rest of your final year in medical school…

The rest of the text fades into squiggles and Dennis moves his eyes back up to read, and re-read the placement. He’d done it. He’d matched at the Pitt. He was going back.

His breaths start coming in a little faster and he realizes that he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. He tries to surreptitiously lower his head between his legs. He feels giddy, like there are bubbles underneath his skin. He’s on the brink of crying when he feels a hand on his back and he quickly straightens in his seat.

“You ok, Dennis?”

Ava’s been his closest friend in med school, though she’s planning for her specialization to be Pediatrics, not EM. Her braids swing around her face as she bends over to level with him.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, holding up his phone. “I got PTMC.”

Ava angles his screen so she can read it better and a wide smile stretches across her mouth. “That’s awesome! I got Peds at Presby.”

Dennis holds up a hand and she slaps it. His breathing is coming easier as the reality sets in. He’s going to be a doctor. He’s going to do his residency years at the Pitt and become an amazing doctor.

And maybe the best part: He’s going to work with Dr. Robby again.

As congratulations and commiserations ripple around him, Dennis keeps that part to himself.

***

Dennis is bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of his closet, trying to decide what to wear to the bar. While this morning he’d been feeling reluctant to go out, now that he’d gotten the email confirming his placement for his internship, he was itching to celebrate. Trinity had been right, unfortunately.

He sighs and pulls out his standard bar outfit: skintight black jeans and a soft oversized tshirt that shows his collarbone if it slips down his shoulder. He pretends he’s not imagining what Dr. Robby’s hand would feel like on his bare skin, his thumb rubbing against his bone.

After he’s dressed, he sits down on his bed, feeling antsy. There’s still a bit of time before he heads out and he’s not sure what to do with himself. A wild thought pops into his mind and he checks the time. Maybe his dad will be finished with supper and able to talk. Dennis should share his good news, shouldn’t he?

He selects his dad’s contact and listens as the tone rings out. His dad’s voicemail picks up. Dennis tries not to let it get to him. Maybe his dad is in the bathroom, or left his phone next to his bed, or maybe he forgot to charge it?

He takes a deep breath as the automated message wraps up.

“Hey, dad. It’s me. Your son. Dennis. Uh, just wanted to share with you… some good news! I matched to PTMC, uh, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, for my internship and residency. That’s the same place I did my emergency medicine rotation last year. So, it’s really good news, and I’m looking forward – ”

The phone call ends, his message cut off, apparently too long. He debates whether or not to call back and leave more details but figures it’s not worth it. If he wants to know more, his dad can always call him back.

Though Dennis will definitely not be holding his breath.

***

Dennis grimaces as he tosses back another shot. He’s not entirely sure what number this one is. Maybe 3? 4? On top of the beer and mojito he’d had earlier, he’s on his way to being very drunk. He slams the shot glass on the bar and Trinity cheers, throwing her arm in the air.

“Another one! Let’s do another one, Huckleberry!”

Dennis feels a little queasy. “No way, Trin. I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Hey, kid, maybe you should have some water,” a voice says on his other side.

“Dr. Abbot, you came!” Trinity yells, right in Dennis’s ear.

Dennis winces and turns his head to see Dr. Abbot sliding onto the stool next to him. This is the first time Dennis has ever seen him in something other than scrubs. He’s wearing a dark polo shirt and jeans. There’s silvery scruff on his cheeks and his chin, and his curls are a little messy, like someone’s been running their hands through them.

While Dennis hadn’t worked any night shifts during his short rotation last year, it had eventually hit him during handoffs his first week that Dr. Abbot, the night shift senior attending, had been the silver fox who’d caught Dennis’s eye at the very beginning of his first shift. Dennis had felt tongue-tied and unsteady on his feet around Dr. Abbot then, when he’d needed to share patient cases holding over from the day shift. He’d catch himself eyeing the man’s forearms, wondering about his fingers, as he’d recited case details.

But luckily, after several days of interacting with Dr. Abbot, who had a patient, encouraging demeanor with Dennis, the attraction had cooled off into a sort of low hum, like white noise, especially in contrast to the deafening roar of his fascination with Dr. Robby. Eventually, he’d been able to carry on regular conversations with Dr. Abbot, even joking with him once or twice.

Now, Dennis swallows and sends Dr. Abbot a weak smile. “Water sounds good, actually.”

Dr. Abbot manages to grab the attention of one of the bartenders quickly and within a minute, Dennis is gulping down a glass of ice water.

“Thanks, Dr. Abbot,” Dennis says, panting a little from drinking so fast.

Dr. Abbot inclines his head silently, just watching Dennis. Dennis has to resist the impulse to squirm on the stool. The look in Dr. Abbot’s eyes is hard to read.

Dennis jumps a little when someone throws their arms around him from behind.

“C’mon, Dennis,” Ava says, “let’s play some darts. Jimmy’s holding a board for us.”

Dennis nods at her, then turns back to Dr. Abbot, who’s still just watching him.

“Thanks for coming out, Dr. Abbot.”

“Sure, kid,” he replies, his voice low. “Congratulations.”

Dennis can’t help the huge smile stretching across his face as he stumbles off the stool and over to the back wall to play darts, badly. He loses to Ava, then he loses to Jimmy. Trinity wanders over to watch for a minute, then moves off when Princess and Donnie show up.

After Ava beats Jimmy and claims herself as the darts champion of the night, she drags Dennis onto the dance floor. It’s not long before some of Dennis’s friends from the Pitt join. Mateo’s shown up and he dances close to Dennis, sending him a nice smile that Dennis reads as flirting. Dennis likes Mateo, but he’s way too close in age. Still, it’s always nice to be desired.

As he’s sandwiched between Ava in front of him and Mateo grinding against his ass behind him, Dennis feels buzz settling nicely. He casts his eyes around the bar and is surprised to see Dr. Abbot still there, sitting on the same bar stool, watching him, but then he gets distracted by someone standing next to his stool. Someone who turns to look at him with deep brown eyes.

Dennis takes a deep breath as Dr. Robby says something to Dr. Abbot, then starts walking toward the dance floor. He’s focused on Dennis now, and a flame of heat warms Dennis’s gut. He pushes back a little against Mateo’s hips, feeling a twinge of remorse for potentially leading the other man on.

But his eyes are locked onto Dr. Robby’s. And then he watches as Dr. Robby pauses next to the dance floor, his gaze traveling the length of Dennis’s body. His eyes have darkened even more and Dennis is transfixed by the sight of Dr. Robby’s tongue swiping across his lower lip.

“Uh, I’m gonna, I’m taking a break,” Dennis chokes out, waving to both Ava and Mateo.

His feet lead him right up to where Dr. Robby is standing and he feels a spill of wetness between his legs when he has to crane his neck back a bit to make eye contact. Dr. Robby leans in close to talk, so he doesn’t have to shout in Dennis’s ear.

“Having a good time celebrating, Whitaker?”

Dennis nods, hoping that his face isn’t making a weird expression. Standing this close to Dr. Robby, he catches a whiff of his cologne, dark and masculine, smelling like leather and pepper somehow. His eyes are so big and Dennis wonders how soft his beard is and whether his body hair also has white and gray shot through it.

Dennis is maybe pretty drunk.

“You looked great dancing out there,” Dr. Robby says, dropping his hand onto Dennis’s shoulder and squeezing, like he’d done any given day during Dennis’s EM rotation. Dennis shivers as Dr. Robby’s thumb brushes against his exposed collarbone.

“Thanks,” Dennis finally replies.

“You wanna take a break?” Dr. Robby cocks his head at a booth behind him, filled with some people from the Pitt.

Dennis nods, swallowing. He could definitely use something to drink. He thinks about the water Dr. Abbot had made him drink before and wonders if he should switch to that for the rest of the night.

A few cheers go up as Dennis and Dr. Robby slide into the booth where Trinity, Princess, Donnie, Kim, and Ellis are already sitting. Another shot glass appears in front of him and Dennis picks it up without thinking, shooting the alcohol back. He starts coughing as it hits the back of his throat, the tequila burning. Dr. Robby pats his back, which becomes more of a rubbing motion, like Dr. Robby had forgotten what he had been doing, as he leans across the table to joke with Princess.

Trinity holds up her phone to start taking pictures and Dr. Robby bends down a little to be in the frame with Dennis, his arm coming around Dennis’s shoulders. Dennis can feel the spread of Dr. Robby’s hand across his upper arm, and he bites the inside of his lip so he doesn’t say anything ridiculous. Or moan.

Dr. Robby jumps a little and shuffles around to pull his phone out of his pocket. He slides his reading glasses on to peer at the screen, sending a short text before returning his phone to his pocket.

“Your latest fling?” Ellis tosses across the table, a sort of knowing smile on her face.

Dennis’s insides do a complicated dance as he watches Robby’s expression. It’s sort of sheepish, like he’s been caught, and also a little bemused, like he’s not used to Ellis teasing him.

But – latest fling? Is Dr. Robby seeing someone?

He clears his throat, trying to think of something else to say. “Is Dr. Abbot still here? Does he want to join us?”

“Eh, don’t worry about Jack. He’s probably gone home. Can’t believe he came out tonight, actually. He usually isn’t interested in anything that’s not going to be featured on a season of Fear Factor.”

Ellis laughs. “I know, man. This is not exactly his scene. Glad he made the effort, though.”

Dennis wonders at that, but doesn’t think too much about it after someone suggests playing “Never Have I Ever” and pitcher of beer appears on the table.

“You can’t play this if you’re gonna be our boss, Robby,” Princess reminds Dr. Robby, who nods.

“I’ll start!” Trinity says. “Ok, never have I ever drunk-dialed someone.”

Everyone at the table takes a sip of beer, even Dr. Robby. Dennis giggles.

Princess goes next. “Never have I ever… had sex with more than one person in the same day.”

Ellis lets out a catcall as Princess and Dennis take a drink.

“That's cheating! You just wanted to take a drink!” Trinity accuses Princess, who laughs.

Dennis can feel Dr. Robby looking at him, very intensely, but he resists looking back.

“Ok, ok,” Donnie says. “Never have I ever slept with an ex.”

Everyone except Dennis drinks to that one. They’re all laughing at each other now. Dennis feels giddy at the feeling of being part of a group again, being part of a team.

Kim adds, “Never have I ever said ‘I love you’ and not meant it.”

No one moves for a good 30 seconds after she finishes speaking, and then Princess and Dr. Robby take a drink.

Kim reaches over to slap Princess’s arm. “You are nothing but drama, girl.” Princess laughs and shrugs.

They play a few more rounds, until everyone’s had a chance to say something. Dr. Robby goes with, “Never have I ever had a visible hickey at work,” which gets drinks from all the women. Dennis settles on, “Never have I ever dated someone more than ten years younger than me,” because he’s a masochist and honestly, extremely drunk by now.

He feels like he might spontaneously combust when Dr. Robby and Princess both take a drink.

“Maybe you should have some water now, Whitaker,” Dr. Robby says, pouring him a glass from the pitcher a server had just dropped at the table.

Dennis takes a long drink, feeling a little cooler. He watches as people split off into separate conversations around the table.

“You play darts?” Dr. Robby asks, leaning into Dennis to speak in his ear so the others at the table can’t hear.

“Not well,” Dennis replies, remembering his earlier beatings.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you.” Dr. Robby is already sliding out of the booth.

And that’s how Dennis finds himself in the back of the bar, looking stupidly at a dart board in front of him while Dr. Robby stands so close behind him, murmuring in his ear about arm position and aiming. He can barely concentrate on anything Dr. Robby says, more focused on the way that the older man wraps his hand around Dennis’s forearm, his long fingers overlapping.

Dennis tries to throw a few times. Dr. Robby praises him for some reason. Maybe he’s actually doing ok. He turns his head to look at Dr. Robby as he’s speaking, but gets distracted by the silvery hair in his beard, the way that his tongue peeks out of his mouth.

“Whitaker? You listening?”

“What?”

Fuck. He hasn’t been listening, hasn’t really heard a word related to darts at all. But Dr. Robby just smiles down at him and throws his arm around Dennis’s shoulders.

“I think you’re drunk off your ass, Whitaker.”

“No, I’m ok, Dr. Robby, I’m just drunk.”

His breath catches as he watches Dr. Robby tip his head back to let out a loud laugh, like it had come all the way from his belly. Dr. Robby looks so happy and Dennis did that. He wants to tell Dr. Robby that he’d like the opportunity to keep making him happy when Dr. Robby pauses, reaching toward his pocket.

He pulls out his phone again and his reading glasses go back on so he can see the text he’d received. Whatever he reads causes him to frown a little. He sighs.

“Sorry, Whitaker, I’ve got to, uh, I’ve got to go.”

The euphoria Dennis had been feeling evaporates. Maybe Ellis was right. Maybe Dr. Robby is seeing someone.

But then he’s smiling down at Dennis, like he’s proud of him, even though Dennis is shit at darts, and very drunk. “I had a good time. I’m glad I could come out to celebrate with you.”

And then Dr. Robby is wrapping his arms around Dennis, just folding them around his body. Dennis knows it’s probably the lowered inhibitions from the alcohol, but he lets his cheek fall onto Dr. Robby’s chest, and he’s proud of himself that the moan that escapes is very soft. It’s also probably the alcohol lying to him that Dr. Robby brushes his lips against the top of Dennis’s head.

“Can’t wait to have you again,” Dr. Robby murmurs into his ear.

Dennis startles a little, reading innuendo into a line when there is none. Surely not. Right?

Dr. Robby clears his throat. “At the Pitt. Have you working again. In the department,” Dr. Robby clarifies, almost stumbling over his words.

He pulls away from Dennis and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He clears his throat again.

“Get home safe, Whitaker, and drink lots of water.”

“I will, Dr. Robby. Thanks.”

Dr. Robby nods at him and starts weaving through the bar.

Dennis is frozen to that spot until Trinity finds him, dragging him back to the booth. He takes one final celebration shot, and then begs her to go home.

As he lies in bed later, Dennis can’t help but slide his hand below the waistband of his pajamas, touching his dick as he thinks about the way Dr. Robby had put his arms around him. The look on Dr. Robby’s face when he’d taken a drink after Dennis’s line about dating someone younger. The sound of his full-throated laugh. It doesn’t take him long before he’s coming.

He reaches over to grab a Kleenex to wipe off his hand and tosses it in the trashcan next to his bed. He wonders what it would be like to bring Dr. Robby home, fuck him in this bed. Or maybe at Dr. Robby’s house, whatever that looks like.

Dennis had all but given up the fantasy that his crush on Dr. Robby would go anywhere. Especially with the messy dynamics of Dennis being an intern and Dr. Robby being his boss, it would be such a terrible idea. But now, after what could objectively be considered flirting, plus all the touching…

Maybe Dennis isn’t so delusional after all. He’s heard some rumors of Dr. Robby’s short attention span when it comes to dating people. But he’s never dated Dennis before. Dennis thinks that, if they ever try, they’d fit together so well. Dennis could be the exception to whatever short-term rule Robby has.

He knows it.

Chapter Text

“Any advice for a new intern?” Dennis asks as Trinity steers her car into the parking lot.

She considers it for a moment, pursing her lips, then replies. “Don’t kill anyone.”

“Trinity!” Dennis squawks, punching her arm as she cackles at him.

Her sarcasm does nothing to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach. It’s been almost a year since he’s last worked in an ED. He worries that he’ll forget everything he’s ever learned about emergency medicine. What if he messes up and something bad happens to a patient?

What if he messes up and Dr. Robby sees?

He forces himself to calm down and take a deep breath as they walk toward the ambulance entrance. It’s already warm in the morning, the sun over the horizon, even though it’s barely past 0630.

Several people from the night shift are standing at the central hub when Dennis comes inside. He sees Dr. Robby talking to Dr. Abbot, drinking from his travel mug. A shiver runs up his spine. Twelve hours with Dr. Robby. Sure, the work will be grueling, but if Dr. Robby resumes his earlier habit of having his hands on Dennis again, the time will fly by.

The shifts change over and Trinity disappears to take over one of Ellis’s patients. Dennis is examining the chart of one of the patients he’s taking over for the second-year resident, Najeeb, when he senses someone next to him.

He looks up and sees Dr. Abbot, his hand wrapped around a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Dr. Abbot.” Dennis says for lack of anything else intelligent. Is Dr. Abbot expecting something from him? Is Dennis supposed to do a special handoff with him?

“Hey, kid.” Dr. Abbot slides the coffee over the counter toward Dennis. “That’s for you. Wanted to wish you well on your first shift as an intern.”

“Oh,” Dennis breathes out.

He feels a little pathetic at how moved he is at such a small gesture. He can’t remember the last time anyone gave him a gift. He doesn’t count the groceries or toiletries Trinity had let him use when he’d first moved in, before he could pay his way. This is something just for him, just because, apparently.

He looks up at Dr. Abbot, giving the man a smile. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

Dr. Abbot’s eyes hold Dennis’s for a few seconds and then he looks away. “You’re welcome,” he replies, his voice low. “Good luck, today, kid. I know you’ll do great.”

Then he pushes off the counter and walks over to speak with Samira.

Dennis blows on the surface of the coffee as Dr. Robby approaches him. “Didn’t bring coffee for everyone?”

“Oh, Dr. Abbot gave this to me, actually.”

Dr. Robby’s eyebrows go up. “Jack brought you coffee?” He looks over at Dr. Abbot over his shoulder a few feet away, though the other man is probably too far away to hear Dr. Robby’s remark.

Dennis shrugs and takes a small sip. It’s not too hot, so he takes a larger drink. “It’s good, but I wish I had some of my chocolate creamer. Then it’d be perfect.”

Dr. Robby smirks at him and Dennis makes himself hold very still as Dr. Robby’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Let’s go, Whitaker. Patients to see.”

Dennis will just tell anyone who asks that the spring in his step is due to the caffeine.

***

Dennis is relieved when he doesn’t have any major fuck-ups on his first day. Or his second. His third day is shaping up to be another ok shift. He’s rusty on a few things, grateful for the guidance from the residents, but overall, it’s been an easy transition back into emergency medicine.

As Samira watches, he works on stitching up a long leg laceration, an injury from a motor vehicle collision.

“So you’ll want to do the subcutaneous interrupted sutures here to help keep the wound closed for healing,” Samira explains, gesturing with a gloved hand, “and then continuous sutures on top.”

Dennis nods in acknowledgement and begins to push the needle through the dermis.

“Sir, these stitches will absorb, so you don’t have to come in to get them removed.”

The patient keeps his eyes averted from the wound closure, his face covered with other minor lacerations and contusions from the MVC. “Good,” he mutters.

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” Samira says, with her warm, understanding tone. Dennis wonders how she got so good at connecting with patients, building rapport so that they trust her. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

Dennis feels the presence before anything else. Then out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dr. Robby leaning over his patient, sliding his glasses out of his pocket to examine Dennis’s stitches.

“Yeah, good job here, Whitaker. Your suturing’s really improved since the last time we saw you.”

Dr. Robby briefly touches Dennis’s shoulder before he exits the exam room. Dennis feels his face heat up and hopes that it’s not very visible. Based on Samira’s raised eyebrow, he hopes in vain. But she doesn’t say anything to him about it, just turns to the patient and starts discussing healing trajectories.

***

“Thanks for the ride, Dr. Robby. You can just park there,” Dennis says, pointing to his building through the windshield. He’s grateful Dr. Robby had offered to drive him home after they’d both stayed late past their shift. He hadn’t wanted to wait for the bus.

Dr. Robby pulls off the road, parking under a streetlight that’s been burnt out for months. The sun had officially set about a half hour before, but there are still some streaks of light across the sky. Inside the car, the silence feels loud. Dennis watches as Dr. Robby slowly reaches up and turns the car off, his hand falling off the key onto his knee.

Dennis wonders if the tension is building inside the whole car or just himself. He casts a subtle glance in Dr. Robby’s direction to find the man studiously observing the steering wheel. He seems to be pretending that Dennis isn’t even here. Dennis unclasps his seatbelt and rubs his palms roughly against his thighs to wipe off the sweat.

He tries to calm his breathing but he wants. He wants so much. He wants Dr. Robby to reach for him, talk to him, claim him. All of the touches, all the comments and the smiles, it couldn’t have been just idle flirting, right? Dr. Robby wants him, too. Dennis can’t be wrong about that, right?

He quickly finds out: he is not.

Without any kind of warning, Dr. Robby turns to him and grabs him, lifting Dennis out of his seat and manhandling him over the middle console to land on his lap. Dennis blinks down at him with shock.

“I tried to resist,” Dr. Robby says, one huge hand coming to rest against Dennis’s cheek. “But you’re so goddamn tempting. Those fucking curls, that waist. Those big fucking eyes.”

Dennis wonders if Dr. Robby would have kept listing his physical attributes – which Dennis would actually quite like to hear because it’s just about never that people count off the things they like about him – but Dr. Robby interrupts himself by dragging Dennis’s face down and probing his tongue into Dennis’s mouth with the kind of command Dennis can’t remember experiencing before.

They’re both moaning and Dennis is rocking against Dr. Robby’s hips, trying to get friction on his cock. He can feel Dr. Robby’s dick below him, long and thick, and the idea of seeing it, of feeling it inside himself, anywhere, causes him to moan again, louder.

“Yeah, you like that, Whitaker?”

Dr. Robby pushes his hips up, rubbing his crotch against Dennis’s. His fingers slide up into Dennis’s hair, tugging on his curls. Dennis has never been more grateful to Trinity for forcing him to keep growing it out. The way Dr. Robby is pulling is just short of actually painful, the sparks on his nerve endings exploding around his head like a firecracker.

“Please,” he mumbles against Dr. Robby’s mouth.

“Please what, Whitaker?”

“Anything,” Dennis responds honestly. “Just, more.”

He feels Dr. Robby’s hand groping between his legs, cupping his cunt. Dr. Robby hums, then reaches into Dennis’s pants, past his boxer briefs. His thick calloused fingers are hard against Dennis’s cock, but it’s just the right amount of tension. Dr. Robby snakes a finger down to push into his hole.

“So wet for me, Whitaker, aren’t you? Like a dog in heat.”

Dennis whimpers at that characterization. He doesn’t think Dr. Robby is being mean, just pointing out how desperate Dennis is. But he’s not sure he likes it. He pushes his feelings to the side. He doesn’t want to ruin his chance to have Dr. Robby, right here, right now.

Dr. Robby withdraws his finger, a little roughly, and pulls his hand out of Dennis’s pants. Then he’s struggling to unbuckle his own, tugging the zipper down, and finally, finally releasing his dick from its confines. The gasp Dennis makes is involuntary.

Dr. Robby. Has. A. Giant. Cock.

It’s got to be close to nine inches, and thick. Dennis swallows thickly, wondering how he’d ever be able to fit it, well, anywhere. His eyes find Dr. Robby’s. The expression on the other man’s face is knowing, kind of a smirk.

“Like what you see, Whitaker?”

“Yeah,” Dennis says, more breath than sound.

Dr. Robby spits into his hand and strokes his cock a few times, then lets it go. It sinks back onto his lap. He reaches up to Dennis’s hips and twists him around so that Dennis is sitting on his lap, his knees banging against the steering wheel. Dr. Robby awkwardly shoves the seat back, reclining it a little to give them more space. He helps Dennis wrestle his pants down, but only to about mid-thigh.

Dennis wiggles where he is, his ass rubbing against Dr. Robby’s erection. He hums, his head falling back against Dr. Robby’s shoulder. Dr. Robby adjusts Dennis’s body again, fumbling between Dennis’s legs to pull his cock between them. And then he’s thrusting between Dennis’s thighs, squeezing Dennis’s legs together with his huge hands to create a channel to push himself into.

Dennis moans, enjoying the friction of Dr. Robby’s dick against his folds, though not close enough to his own cock to feel it. He whines, dropping a hand to touch himself. Dr. Robby doesn’t comment, so Dennis starts tugging on his cock, rubbing it between his fingers, rolling his hips on top of Dr. Robby’s.

His orgasm is within reach. He’d never have thought he’d be here, in Dr. Robby’s car, getting off with his boss’s huge dick shoved between his thighs. He needs to savor this, in case it’s the only time.

“You close, Whitaker?” Dr. Robby’s voice is low and gravely, right in Dennis’s ear.

He is, of course, close. He just needs… something. He whines again.

“I’m close,” Dr. Robby says, like he hadn’t picked up on what Dennis was trying to tell him, though be fair, it had only been a sound.

Dennis opens his mouth to ask for some friction against his cock, but then Dr. Robby squeezes Dennis’s thighs even tighter and jerks his hips and he’s spilling cum all over the top of Dennis’s legs. Dennis looks down to see the white drops starting to drip down the sides of his thighs. He gives a little sigh of dismay at the mess.

“You came, right, Whitaker?”

Dennis clears his throat. “Sure, yeah. It was really good, Dr. Robby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. He should be honest, not fucking faking an orgasm. Besides, it’s so obvious that he hadn’t come, Robby is sure to –

“Good, good. Yeah, that was really good, Whitaker. Good job.”

Despite the tinge of disappointment that Dr. Robby doesn’t question the lack of muscle spasms, the lack of even a harsh exhale, his praise lights something inside Dennis.

Dr. Robby accidentally bangs Dennis’s elbow as he opens the center console and pulls out some drive-through napkins. He wipes his cum off Dennis’s skin and shoves the napkins into the pocket in the driver’s side door. Then he helps Dennis wrestle his pants back up and stuffs his own dick back into his pants.

Dennis opens the driver’s side door and sort of stumbles out of the car.

“Whoa, you ok, Whitaker?” Dr. Robby asks, holding a hand out to him.

“Yeah,” Dennis says quickly, trying not to sound hysterical.

He’s just had sex, sort of, with his boss – a man he’s been crushing on for almost a year – in his boss’s car. How is Dr. Robby going to treat him on Monday in the ED? Oh god, has he just fucked everything up?

Dr. Robby reaches back into the car and pulls out Dennis’s bag, holding it out to him. Dennis takes it and hopes that the expression on his face is more a smile than a grimace. Based on Dr. Robby’s smile back, he thinks so.

“Well… have a, uh, good weekend, Whitaker.”

Dr. Robby doesn’t seem overly uncomfortable or awkward about what has just happened. Dennis resolves that he won’t, either. This is just something that happened. It doesn’t have to change their working relationship.

He walks around the front of the car and up onto the sidewalk. He waves to Dr. Robby as the other man starts his car and then drives away. Dennis heads into his apartment.

As he lays in bed later, he touches himself, thinking about how big Dr. Robby’s cock is, wondering how it would feel pushing into his cunt or his hole. He thinks about walking into the ED with Dr. Robby’s arm around him, a proud look on his face as he listens to something Dennis is saying.

He’s only a little ashamed that it’s the second part that makes him come all over his fingers.

***

So, Dennis spends the first part of his Monday shift working triage with Donnie, so what? It’s important for everyone to take a turn in chairs, clearing the minor cases and sending back the more extreme ones.

It’s probably just a coincidence, Dr. Robby keeping a rotation in his mind about who should be working in triage when. It’s got nothing to do with Dr. Robby getting off between Dennis’s thighs three days ago. Probably. Right?

Dennis ushers a 50ish woman and her husband into a triage room and gestures for her to take a seat in the exam chair. She’s moaning softly, rubbing her temples.

“She’s had this bad headache for about four days now, been feeling sick and throwing up,” her husband says. “And she woke up confused this morning. It’s only gotten worse.”

Dennis nods and moves his stethoscope around her chest, listening to her lungs, her heartbeat. Good breath sounds, strong heartbeat, good blood pressure, no tachycardia. He turns to Donnie to get her temperature when the woman lets out a louder groan and freezes for several seconds.

Dennis’s eyes widen and then he’s pushing the chair back to flatten her out as her right extremities start convulsing. Donnie’s looking down at his watch to time the seizure. It takes maybe a minute for the convulsions to stop.

“Focal right-sided tonic-clonic seizure,” Dennis says, maybe more to himself than anything. “We need to get her back into the ED.”

Donnie nods and quickly heads out to grab a gurney. Dennis presses his knuckles into the woman’s sternum.

“Ma’am? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?”

She doesn’t open her eyes or her mouth, but Dennis sees her twitch in response to the pain. He does a quick calculation in his head. Ok, maybe a GCS score of 6 now.

“Sir, your wife just had a seizure, what people used to refer to as a grand mal seizure.”

The man’s face crumples a little and he reaches a hand out to grab at his wife’s arm. “Is she going to be ok?”

Dennis offers a small smile. “We’re going to get her back into our ER as quick as – ”

Donnie wheels in the gurney, Antoine following him to help get the patient onto it. She’s still largely unresponsive. Dennis follows Donnie and Antoine back onto the floor with the patient’s husband, Donnie calling out to Dana the basics of the case.

“Trauma Two is ready, Donnie!” Dana calls back, then turns and shouts, “Robby! Tonic-clonic seizure from chairs, Trauma Two.”

Dennis’s heartbeat kicks up just a tiny bit to see Dr. Robby sailing across the floor, rubbing his hands together with sanitizer. He snags Javadi and Mel on his way into the trauma bay. Perlah comes up to guide the husband away to observe from outside the glass door.

“Ok, Whitaker. Your patient, your show. What’s the next step?”

Dennis hopes the shiver that runs down his spine at being the sole focus of Dr. Robby’s attention isn’t visible to anyone else. He takes a deep breath.

“We’ve got a middle-aged woman with a history of headache, nausea, vomiting. Altered status this morning, feeling confused. Had a one-minute focal right-sided tonic-clonic seizure in triage just now. We need to test for brain injury, exposure to some kind of toxin, and pathology like encephalitis or meningitis.”

Dr. Robby nods in approval, the corners of his mouth tipping up as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“Ok, let’s intubate, sux instead of roc so we can detect any more seizures. Whitaker, what kind of labs are we looking at?”

Dennis nods at Dr. Robby as Donnie moves behind him to get the IV started. “CBC, blood gas, ASA, acetaminophen, EtOH, and ECG for toxicology. Need a CT to check for intracranial hemorrhage or tumor. Depending on those results, might need to do an LP to test for meningitis and encephalitis.”

Another nod, another soft smile, and Dennis feels like he’s floating above the ground.

The labs eventually come back revealing severe hyponatremia, which can explain the patient’s symptoms. They set her up with a hypertonic saline solution and Dr. Robby calls up to ICU to see if they can get her a bed.

All in all, Dennis feels pretty good about everything. He hadn’t panicked, he’d been right where he’d needed to be to get her care immediately. He’s turning to head back to triage when he feels a hand settle heavy on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

“I think you can stay back here with us for the rest of the shift, Whitaker,” Dr. Robby says, his voice close enough that Dennis knows he’s bending over a bit, even without looking.

He clears his throat and nods. “Sounds good, Dr. Robby. Uh, thanks.”

Another squeeze and then Dr. Robby’s hand falls away from his neck. Dennis is proud of himself that he doesn’t react to the loss of contact, or at the feeling of Dr. Robby’s beard brushing against the shell of his ear as he leans even farther into Dennis.

“Good job in there, babe. Now go save someone else’s life.”

Dr. Robby walks away and Dennis’s brain does a hard restart at hearing a pet name – for Dennis! – coming out of Dr. Robby’s mouth. In the middle of the ED floor, in the middle of the shift. Dennis bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood and feels a tiny trickle of damp between his legs.

Fuck.

He clears his throat again and tries to walk as nonchalantly as possible over to look up at the patient board, crossing his arms. Dana looks over at him with a curious expression. He smiles back, hoping to avoid any conversation.

“That tib-fib fracture looks like it’s got my name on it.”

He hurries away, determined to focus on his work, and not the puff of air against his ear as Dr. Robby had called him “babe.”

***

“Hey, Huckleberry, look at this!” Trinity pops her head up from the fridge in the breakroom, pointing at something on the top shelf.

Dennis ducks down to see what she’s pointing to. A medium-sized bottle of the chocolate creamer that he likes. But it’s not the creamer itself that’s strange; the fridge is a graveyard of creamers and half-and-half containers of varying ages.

No, what’s strange is the Post-it on the front of the bottle: in blocky letters, almost like someone had been trying to disguise their writing, are the words “Whitaker Only.”

“I know that’s not your handwriting,” Trinity says, her tone almost accusatory.

“Yeah, because I didn’t write it. I don’t know who did. Or who put it there.”

But Dennis has an idea. He’s pretty sure he’d mentioned to Dr. Robby about the chocolate creamer last week, when Dr. Abbot had brought him coffee. He feels warmth spread through his body, even more than when he’d received the coffee. Dr. Robby must have brought it in, knowing Dennis likes it.

Trinity pulls the bottle out of the fridge, concentrating on the handwriting. “Ok, what we need to do is, we need to get samples from everyone on each shift and then we – ”

“Trinity.” Dennis grabs the bottle from her and shoves it back in the fridge, slamming the door. “We are not playing detectives with this. Leave it alone.”

Trinity’s eyes go wide and Dennis has a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” She lowers her voice. “You slut, tell me who it is.”

Dennis groans. “No, I don’t know, either. But whoever it was wanted it to be a secret, right? Let it go.”

He turns and leaves the breakroom, not caring if she follows. In his mind, he’s already thinking of ways he could show his appreciation for Dr. Robby’s gesture.

***

“Breathe through your nose,” Dr. Robby says, rubbing the back of Dennis’s head. “You can keep going, I know you can, babe.”

Dennis tries to breathe through the ribbon of panic wrapping around his neck as he slowly pushes down on Dr. Robby’s cock. His hip is really starting to hurt where it’s jammed against the seatbelt clasp. He feels drool slipping out both sides of his mouth and worries that he’s going to get Dr. Robby’s cargo pants all wet.

Dennis gasps as Dr. Robby tugs on his hair, bringing his mouth off of his cock. Dr. Robby’s giving him a look of vague disappointment and Dennis’s stomach turns over. He really doesn’t want to let the man down.

“Maybe it’s too much for you,” Dr. Robby says softly, petting Dennis’s head. Sort of like he’s a dog.

“No!” Dennis says quickly, then swallows and inhales through his nose. “No. I can do it, Dr. Robby. I can do it.”

Dr. Robby pets him one more time and then gives him an indulgent smile. “All right, let’s try one more time.”

Dennis repositions himself so that he’s on his knees in the passenger seat, rather than awkwardly leaning over the center console. From this vantage point, he can better control his descent onto Dr. Robby’s lap, get better leverage.

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth wide, careful of his teeth, and slowly sinks down onto Robby’s cock. He manages to slide farther down than he had before, and then he keeps going, wrapping his fist around the base of Dr. Robby’s dick. He’s not able to touch his mouth to his fist, but then, the dick is very big. He pulls back a little to bob shallowly at the top of Dr. Robby’s cock, hollowing his cheeks a little.

The sounds Dr. Robby is making spur Dennis on. He forces his mouth down onto Dr. Robby’s cock again, willing himself to relax his throat. This time, he’s able to feel the head of the dick bumping against the back of his throat. Dr. Robby’s hand cups the back of Dennis’s head, applying pressure – gently at first, then firmer – to encourage Dennis to take even more.

He can do this, Dennis knows he can. He can do this and then Dr. Robby will praise him and Dennis can feel good about this. The weight of Dr. Robby’s hand on his head pushes him farther down, and the head of his dick slips down Dennis’s throat. His eyes are watering, his nose running. He can’t panic now, not when he’s so close.

He can do it.

Dennis hums around Dr. Robby’s dick and is excited when he hears the man groan, feels the involuntary jerk of his hips. He tries swallowing around the head, lodged in his throat, and the sound Dr. Robby makes is so loud, so perfect, and then his hips rock up and he’s shooting cum right down Dennis’s throat.

Dennis moans himself. He slightly panics at the last minute as Dr. Robby’s dick gives another spasm, and he struggles to pull off. The last few spurts end up in Dennis’s mouth, on his chin. Maybe not a perfect ending, but pretty good, Dennis thinks.

“That was good, babe,” Dr. Robby says, settling back against the front seat. “For your first time.”

“Oh, uh, that’s not my first time sucking – ”

“Your first time taking me,” Dr. Robby clarifies, running his thumb along Dennis’s bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees softly, chasing Dr. Robby’s thumb with his tongue.

Dr. Robby smiles down at him and Dennis thinks he sees some pride in his eyes. Warmth tingles through Dennis’s body. Then he remembers about the creamer, and how he’d wanted to say thank you.

“I did want to give you a little something back, since you got me something.”

“Hmm? What do you mean, Whitaker?

Dennis leans back on his legs folded underneath himself as he watches Dr. Robby tuck himself away, bring the seat back upright.

“You know. For the creamer?”

“Whitaker, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. What creamer?”

Dennis is so confused. He'd been sure Dr. Robby had gotten him the chocolate creamer. It couldn’t have been Trinity. And who else would have known?

“What creamer?” Dr. Robby repeats.

“Oh, just, someone got me some of the chocolate creamer I like. Thought it was you. Sorry.” 

Dr. Robby snorts. “Nothing to be sorry about. You sure it wasn’t Santos, just playing a prank on you?”

Dennis honestly cannot think of someone else who would both know that he likes it and be willing to get it for him. But he realizes that Dr. Robby’s waiting for a reply.

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s probably it. Just playing a prank on me.”

“You kids,” Dr. Robby says, shaking his head with a smile. “Well, have a good night, Whitaker.”

Dennis slides his legs out from under him and reaches down to grab his bag, opening the car door. “Yeah, good night, Dr. Robby. See you tomorrow.”

As he walks up the steps to the apartment, he considers the merits of Trinity’s investigation idea. But then he shakes his head. Obviously, someone wanted him to have the creamer, and they didn’t want Dennis to know who. He decides to respect that privacy and not worry about it. And it’s nice, really, knowing that there’s someone out there who’d noticed that Dennis likes something and had given it to him, without expecting anything in return. In a way, it makes Dennis feel seen like he hasn’t before.

But he can’t help feeling more than a little disappointed that it hadn’t turned out to be Dr. Robby.

***

Dennis remembers some of the oddest things. For example, during his EM rotation last year, he once did compressions on four patients in one day. On the third week of his rotation, Dr. Robby touched him 57 times.

Annabelle is now his third pediatric patient death, which is something he wishes he didn’t remember.

Dr. Robby calls time of death and Dennis tries to sniffle silently. Annabelle’s parents are understandably beside themselves, and Dennis can hear Dr. Robby’s quiet, soothing voice, explaining to them what has happened, what will happen.

Trinity maneuvers herself next to Dennis and brushes her arm against his. He appreciates the gesture and takes a deep breath. Losing kids is the worst.

Dylan’s the social worker on call today and they appear just outside the trauma bay to step in and help Annabelle’s parents navigate the next steps. Dr. Robby hands them off to Dylan and returns to the trauma bay to debrief.

“I know it’s not the outcome we wanted,” Dr. Robby starts, his voice shaking a little. “But we did the best we could. Each of you. Each of you did the best you could. Let’s have a moment of silence.”

Dennis closes his eyes and drops his head, feeling another graze of Trinity’s arm against his. And then there’s a brush of something on his other side. He cracks his eyes open to see that Dr. Robby stands next to him, his own head bowed. Dennis feels Dr. Robby’s hand, heavy on his shoulder.

Without thinking, Dennis leans a little into Dr. Robby, seeking comfort. Dr. Robby squeezes his shoulder, his thumb rubbing a line along Dennis’s deltoid. And then it’s gone. Dennis almost loses his balance, but Trinity grabs his wrist, her head coming up. She pokes Dennis, but he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

He doesn’t want to talk about anything right now.

***

Dennis slowly opens the apartment door, slides inside, and gently closes it behind him. He takes a breath and begins to turn around.

“Just getting in?”

It’s not Dennis’s proudest moment, but he does squeal and jump about half a foot into the air as Trinity rises from the couch and looks at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Christ Jesus in a manger! You scared the shit out of me, Trinity.”

“And why are we sneaking back in at 1:30 on a Wednesday morning, pray tell?”

Dennis avoids her eyes and heads into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

“Obviously, I was out,” Dennis says when Trinity expectedly follows him.

“Hook up?”

Dennis clears his throat. “Yep. Just a hook up.”

Trinity hums. “From where? An app? You go to some bar tonight?”

“Uhh, you know, er, just Grindr.”

“Uh-huh.” Trinity folds her arms across her chest and leans against the counter. “Thought you said you were uninstalling it after the last time, with that chaser guy.”

Dennis winces, remembering that encounter, humiliating for a variety of reasons.

“Well, I… decided to try again.”

He cuts his eyes over to her to see how she’s taking it. His stomach twists. She’s clearly not buying it.

“You’re fucking Robby, aren’t you?”

“Goddamn it, Trinity, how did you know that?”

She groans and covers her face with her hands. “Well, I didn’t know until you just said.”

Now Dennis groans, annoyed at himself for falling for her obvious ploy.

“Huck.”

He looks up at her, peeking through her hands. She drops them to grab the counter on either side of her hips. She’s wearing an old sweatshirt and baggy shorts, her usual bedclothes. Like this, in the middle of the night, when she’s not wearing her Hospital Face, Dennis gets a peek at Trinity’s vulnerability. He can see the look of concern on her face before she schools it into something less emotional.

“You deserve better,” she says, crossing her arms again.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Well, first of all, he’s your boss.” She holds up one finger. “And he’s obviously keeping you a secret.” She puts up another finger. “He doesn’t even let you spend the night.” Third finger. “And he doesn’t take you out on proper dates.” She wiggles her four fingers at him.

Dennis sighs. All of her points are valid, sure. But Dr. Robby’s in a difficult position. He’s the boss, like Dennis’s head boss. Someone would get in trouble with HR, for sure, if it got out they were dating. Or, well, sleeping together. Fucking.

Hooking up, at least. They haven’t actually fucked yet.

“It’s complicated,” Dennis starts with.

Trinity sends him a sad smile. “It usually is,” she says, heading out of the kitchen to go to bed.

***

Only one more day until Friday, Dennis thinks, leaning heavily on the central hub counter, taking a much-needed break after three back-to-back trauma cases.

Javadi’s walking by, looking at a tablet when she pauses next to him.

“Oh, hey, where’d you get the good kind of protein bar? I never see those in the vending machine.” she asks him as Dennis bites into the brownie-flavored bar.

He covers his mouth, swallowing before answering her. “Oh, yeah, Dr. Abbot gave it to me earlier. He said he bought these by mistake and accidentally grabbed one for his overnight.”

Dennis shrugs at Javadi’s raised eyebrows. “I bet he’d have given it to you if you’d run into him during handoffs instead of me.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but her brows are still lifted as she walks away. Dennis shrugs and takes another bite of the protein bar. It is quite good.

***

Dennis whimpers as Robby presses another finger into his cunt. This one’s more of a stretch with the other two Robby’s already worked inside him. He wants to rock his hips, hurry Robby along, but he’s learned that Robby likes to lead things. And if Dennis does something Robby hasn’t told him to, he’s content to sit there until Dennis obeys, finally praising him like he's a dog doing a trick.

Dennis isn’t sure if he’s into this type of dynamic. Usually, he’s just interested in having fun and getting off, without needing to remember too many rules. But he does like getting off with Robby, or well, he thinks he will, if it happens. At least, he enjoys what they’ve done so far. And he really wants to try getting off on Robby’s massive cock.

He moans again, trying not to wince as Robby pumps three fingers inside him. He’s had to get used to that full feeling in his cunt these last couple weeks. It’s not a problem, not really, just, well. He also wouldn’t mind a little variety. Maybe a little oral action to break things up.

Robby’s eyes are focused down, in his lap where Dennis is balanced, one knee on either side of Robby’s thighs pressing into the couch cushions. His fingers push up, and then forward, brushing harder against that spot on his wall. His dick throbs, wanting friction, wanting any kind of attention, really.

But Dennis has to wait.

“Please,” he whimpers, struggling hard against the urge to move.

“Please what,” Robby says, his breath coming out in pants.

Dennis watches pre-cum dribble from Robby’s cock, hard against his stomach. He wonders if he’ll ever be allowed to try fitting it into his mouth again.

“Please, sir,” Dennis says, appending the title that he knows Robby likes, in and out of work.

Robby, it turns out, really likes the power of it all, though he doesn’t like to admit it. Dennis hadn’t exactly stumbled into it unaware. He’d remembered the occasional reaction that could only be explained as arousal during his rotation last year when he’d been particularly deferential to Robby. He’d tried it out the last time they’d hooked up, and Robby had come like a shot.

Dennis had hoped it could be a signal of their growing intimacy, but it seems like the only concession Robby is willing to make to their arrangement is that Dennis can drop the “Dr.” when they see each other outside of work.

It’s not a lot to build a dream on, but Dennis has built more on a shakier foundation before.

“Ok, Whitaker. I think you’ve earned your treat.”

Robby pulls his fingers out of Dennis and grips Dennis’s hips. He positions Dennis until he’s in what must be the right spot, then takes hold of his cock and guides the tip up to Dennis’s cunt.

Dennis is about ready to vibrate out of his skin, he’s so excited.

“You’re on birth control, right?” Robby asks as he runs the tip of his cock through Dennis’s folds.

“Oh, well, sure, I mean – ”

“Good, that’s good,” Robby says softly and pulls Dennis down onto his cockhead, and then slowly, slowly Dennis feels the slide of Robby’s length inside him, like it’s splitting him open.

“Fuck,” Dennis moans when his open thighs meet Robby’s.

The stretch burns, but in a good way, really. And really, he should have been clearer about using condoms or not. Getting Robby’s monster dick inside him is more important; he can’t believe Robby doesn’t test regularly. They can have the “actually, I don’t have a uterus at all” conversation another time.

“Oh, babe, you’re so tight,” Robby mutters, wrapping his arms around Dennis’ back.

He lifts Dennis up a little, and then starts to piston his cock up inside Dennis’s cunt. Robby’s breathing harshly right into his ear, and Dennis can hear the slippery sounds of the lube and his own slick. He buries his nose into Robby’s neck, smelling his leather and spice cologne, a hint of his sweat.

It’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Just… it’d be even more perfect if Dennis could get some kind of pressure on his own cock.

He can feel it throbbing, pulsing with need to be tugged at, squeezed, rubbed. Any sort of friction would work. Dennis opens his mouth to ask for it and then Robby lets out a loud cry and Dennis can feel Robby’s cock spasming inside his cunt.

Robby sets Dennis down, loosening his arms as his dick, wet with his cum, slips out of Dennis. Dennis bites back a moan, the request still hovering on his tongue, his cock still aching with need.

“God, that was good,” Robby says, his voice rough, as he sags a little against the back of the couch. “That good for you, babe?”

Dennis gives a small sigh. “Yeah, it was.”

“What was that?” Robby’s tone is a little sharp.

“Yes. Sir,” Dennis amends. “It was good for me.”

Robby’s eyes are closed but his mouth curves into a contented smile. Dennis is sort of precariously balanced on top of Robby’s thighs, not quite sitting. His folds are wet and he think it’d probably be impolite to relax and get Robby all messy. He gingerly lays his hands on Robby’s shoulders to steady himself as he climbs off the couch.

Robby opens his eyes. “Where you going, Whitaker?”

Dennis sends him a small smile. “It’s getting late. I should head out.”

Robby looks like he’s going to say something. Dennis holds his breath. Maybe Robby will ask him to spend the night. Or at least invite him to take a shower. Or maybe he just wants to cuddle and –

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Good night, Whitaker.”

Later, as Whitaker stands at the bus stop, he thinks about his relationship with Robby so far. They’ve made great strides: Dennis can call him by his nickname when they’re alone, Robby uses a pet name for him and sometimes does it at work, Robby likes for Dennis to come to his house several times a week.

He thinks about the rumors about Robby’s love life, about how he never has long-term relationships, and how he always seems to get bored about seven weeks into a fling. With all the progress he’s made with Robby, Dennis can’t imagine that their relationship would end so soon. They’ve already been together for four weeks.

Maybe there are some things that could be going better. Like, Robby could actually notice that Dennis needs stimulation on his cock to be able to come. But really, that’s on Dennis for not speaking up.

He vows that the next time they’re having sex, he’ll say something. Maybe guide Robby’s hand there. It can’t be that difficult. After all, Robby would want to know if he could be doing something to make Dennis feel better, right? Of course – he cares about Dennis.

As the bus comes into view, Dennis feels confident in his plan. He’s going to vocalize his needs. And hell, maybe he’ll ask Robby on a date so they can go out in public. Trinity's voice echoes in his mind.

He feels good about the future as he sinks into a seat and drops his head against the window, watching the lights blur together as the bus rolls by.

Chapter Text

“Hey, kid, how was your weekend?” Dr. Abbot asks as he slides a tablet into a charging slot on the counter.

Dennis swallows a sip of coffee, doctored with just the right amount of chocolate creamer, and nods. “Yeah, it was good, thanks, Dr. Abbot. You do anything fun this weekend?”

Dr. Abbot grunts softly. “Tried out a new hobby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I get, uh, restless, staying home too much.”

Dennis turns to face the night attending. They’ve only really spoken at shift changes in all his time in the Pitt, so he doesn’t know the man well. It’s obvious he keeps in shape, and Dennis knows he’s a vet, and that he’s got a prosthesis. That’s about all he knows. He wonders what kind of hobbies Dr. Abbot would be interested in.

“Competitive archery,” a voice says behind him.

Dennis turns to see Ellis standing behind them with a broad smile on her face.

Dr. Abbot doesn’t turn to look at Ellis. “Not very competitive,” he mutters. “Mostly retirees and society wives.”

Ellis comes to lean against the counter next to Dennis. She elbows him as her smile widens even further.

“That just means Abbot lost.”

Now Dr. Abbot looks at Ellis. He narrows his eyes at her and huffs. “I expected a little more transferable skills from firearms to bows.”

“It’s ok, boss. You can’t be the best at everything.”

“Just need some practice,” Dr. Abbot says and Ellis starts laughing.

Dennis gets the sense that this is a long-standing exchange between them. He likes the way Dr. Abbot lets Ellis tease him and thinks it’s cute how Dr. Abbot’s ears have turned a little pink.

“I don’t think I’d be much good at bows and arrows, either,” Dennis offers. “I grew up on a farm, but we used long guns for hunting.”

Ellis arches her eyebrow. “Boss, maybe you should take Whitaker to the range sometime.”

Dr. Abbot clears his throat. “Ellis, don’t you have handoffs to do?”

She snorts. “Yes, boss.” She heads over to Mel to start filling her in on her ongoing cases.

Dennis looks up when he sees Robby walk onto the floor from triage. He knows that he’s got a big smile on his face, but he can’t help it. He looks down at the counter to avoid looking directly at Robby and giving everything away. When he’s schooled his face into something more neutral, he looks up.

Dr. Abbot is watching him, an impassive look on his face.

“Jack. What’s the word from the night shift?” Robby asks, stopping next to Dr. Abbot.

Dr. Abbot looks at Dennis for another beat before turning to Robby, his face sliding into an easy, agreeable expression, as he starts going through his own handoffs.

***

Dennis shifts on his stomach as Robby continues his slow strokes. His face is buried in a pillow, which muffles the rhythmic grunts that Robby’s fucking out of him. The pressure in his cunt feels particularly delicious from this angle. Every time Robby pushes into him, the head of his cock gently scrapes along Dennis’s front wall.

Dennis could come from this. Maybe.

Robby grips his waist a little harder. Dennis can hear the soft grunts he’s making as his hips meet Dennis’s, the slick sounds of lube from Dennis’s cunt. He wants to touch his cock so bad, or wants Robby to touch it. He’s practically vibrating with the need.

“You ok, babe?” Robby asks, pausing in his thrusts.

It’s now or never, Dennis thinks. Time to speak.

Dennis rolls his head to the side. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s good, Robby. Just… would love to touch my cock. ‘M so hard.”

“Oh.” Robby’s tone is almost one of surprise. “Ok, sure. Here, let me do it.”

Dennis breathes a sigh of relief and buries his face in the pillow again. He feels Robby reach down to run a finger along Dennis’s growth, gently pinching it.

“Yeah, that’s good. Thank you.”

“What was that?”

Oh, right. “Thank you, sir.”

“That’s better,” Robby says, his hips starting to move again.

He keeps up his ministrations on Dennis’s dick, rubbing it between his fingers. It feels like a shower of sparks up his spine. Dennis wiggles his hips a little to push himself against Robby’s hand. He’s almost there, just a little more –

Robby groans, the rhythm of his fucking stuttering. He pulls away from Dennis’s cock to plant his hands on either side of Dennis’s back as he comes.

Fuck. Dennis sighs.

Robby pulls out and falls next to Dennis on the bed. He rubs Dennis’s back and Dennis picks his head up off the pillow to give him a small smile. Another night when he’ll need to get off himself, in his own bed.

“I liked that,” Robby says softly, his hand coming up to finger Dennis’s curls. “Should try that again sometime, making you come with my fingers.”

Yeah, I’d really like it to happen for the first time, Dennis thinks. He wishes he could just be honest with Robby, but after all this time, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s been faking orgasms. Or, well, not so much faking orgasms, just not correcting the record when Robby assumes one occurred.

How the man could not detect the absence of an orgasm continues to mystify Dennis. He’s tempted to figure out a way to ask Dr. Collins about it, but there’s no way on God’s green earth he’d be able to follow through with that. He really just wants to know whether Robby has always been like this as a partner, somewhat inattentive, negligent. Like he assumes having a huge cock is the only thing he needs to contribute to this equation. Though Dennis has to admit, Robby does know how to use that huge cock, even if he hasn't ever made Dennis come on it.

Robby stretches out his arm again, this time wrestling Dennis to cuddle up to him. Dennis’s frustration of just a moment before disappears as he gingerly rests his cheek on Robby’s chest.

“I noticed that we both have the same day off next week, Whitaker. What do you say to taking a trip somewhere? We could leave Tuesday night and come back on Wednesday.”

Dennis has a strong urge to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. A couple’s trip? Only a month and a half into their relationship?

“Yes,” Dennis says quickly, before Robby has a chance to change his mind. “Where were you thinking?”

Robby hums. “I haven’t been to Fallingwater in a while. You ever been?”

Dennis shakes his head, his cheek brushing against Robby’s chest hair. Robby rubs his hand up and down Dennis’s arm.

“It’s a house – well, now a museum – built by Frank Lloyd Wright. He built it right over a waterfall. Lots of beautiful parks out that way. I figure, we take my bike. It’s about an hour and a half down there. We could stay in Uniontown overnight.”

Dennis listens to Robby toss out places and names like he’s supposed to know what they all mean. Even though Dennis has been in Pittsburgh more than four years now, he’s barely been outside the city, not having the funds to spend on any kind of real vacation.

“That all sounds great, Robby. Just, could you give me a ballpark amount so I can – ”

“Eh, don’t worry about it, babe. I can cover it. I’m the one who suggested the trip.”

Dennis feels his face heat up, both from the embarrassment of being poor and the casual ease with which Robby had offered to pay for the trip. Like he wants to spoil Dennis. The flame of hope he faithfully stokes in his chest flares a little more brightly.

“Well, ok. Thank you, sir.” He adds the last bit because he knows Robby will appreciate it. Which he does.

Robby gives a sort of growl and dips his face to start mouthing Dennis’s neck. They make out for a little bit, Dennis getting quickly aroused again, his dick hard and pushing out from his folds, his cunt getting wetter.

But then Robby yawns, breaking the sexual tension. “Shit, I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry, babe. We both need to sleep for our shift tomorrow.”

Dennis doesn’t mind it as much as he scrounges around the floor for his clothes, Robby watching from the bed. He sends Robby one last smile before he leaves the bedroom, then heads to the bus stop.

When he’s touching himself in bed later, he thinks about how it’ll feel to wrap his arms around Robby’s chest as they zoom down the highway on the back of his motorcycle.

***

Walking up to the little alcove off the ambulance drive-through, Dennis can hear raised voices. Well, maybe not raised, but definitely harsh voices. As he gets closer to them, he can tell that it’s Robby and Dr. Abbot, but it’s difficult to hear exactly what they’re saying because of the wind and the angle of their faces.

“Two more weeks… right, Robby? You gonna just… and then let… like usual?” Dr. Abbot’s face has a strange expression, like concern, but also anger? Dennis has never seen that look on him before.

“Why do you even care, Jack? What I do… you to stay out… Why are you being like this?” Robby asks, sounding clearly confused.

Dr. Abbot’s eyes meet Dennis's and he freezes, gesturing at Robby to shut up.

“Hey, Whitaker,” Dr. Abbot calls, giving him a soft smile. “You need something?”

Robby turns around and looks at Dennis with heat in his eyes. “Did you have a question about one of our patients?”

Dennis stumbles over his words. “Yeah. Yeah, the head lac in North 3. But it can wait a few minutes. I just came out to grab some air and a smoke.”

Jack inhales sharply. “Smoke? You smoke, Whitaker?”

Dennis nervously fingers the cigarette he’s holding by his side, hidden from Dr. Abbot’s view. “Only sometimes. You know, for stress?”

“You shouldn’t smoke. That’ll kill you.”

“I think he’s an adult who can make his own choices, don’t you, Jack?” Robby asks, his face showing some kind of amusement, but it seems a little mean. It’s like Dr. Abbot and Robby are having a conversation underneath the one they’re having with Dennis.

The look Dr. Abbot sends Robby is so full of venom for a second that Dennis gasps. Then Dr. Abbot’s expression smooths out, and he offers Dennis a lopsided smile, almost placating. He walks past Robby without looking at him again and gestures in front of him.

“Come on, kid,” Dr. Abbot says, his voice soft and low. “Show me the head lac in North 3.”

***

Dennis hadn’t anticipated how the vibrations from riding on a motorcycle would make his legs feel weird – like they’re sort of rubbery – for a while after they reach the hotel. It reminds him of that one time his family had visited some distant cousins who lived near the Mississippi, and they’d all gone on a river cruise. It had been his first time on a boat like that, and when they’d disembarked, Dennis had felt like he was still on the boat, still moving on the water, for hours afterward.

After their shift, Robby had driven them to his house. Dennis had taken a quick shower to rinse off the previous 12 hours. They’d stuffed both of their clothes for the next day into a big backpack that Dennis would be wearing on the bike. Robby had handed him a thick jacket that was too big for him but smelled just like Robby. He’d also gotten a helmet that fit much better. Then it had been 90 minutes of clinging to Robby's back as he’d steered the bike down 76, then 199, to Uniontown.

Dennis hopes he gets used to the feeling of riding the bike tomorrow. For his part, Robby looks exhilarated by the trip. His face hasn’t been without a smile since they’d set off. Even now, he’s laughing with the front desk clerk at the hotel, making a joke that Dennis doesn’t quite understand. Dennis shrugs the backpack farther up onto his shoulder as they head for the elevator and up to their room. It’s close to 2200, and while he doesn’t usually go to bed this early, he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to stay awake.

It occurs to Dennis, then – how had he not thought of it before? – they’ll be sharing a bed tonight. All night. Sleeping with Robby. Dennis shivers at the prospect.

“You did good today, babe,” Robby says as they undress for bed.

“Thanks,” he replies, feeling his face warm up. “You really know how to, er, handle it.”

Robby snorts as he climbs under the covers, pulling back the comforter on the other side for Dennis to slide in.

“You’re like a cute little puppy. Been riding probably longer than you’ve been alive, Whitaker. I hope I know how to handle it.”

Dennis sends him a small smile, unsure how to respond to that. Sometimes Robby will point out their age difference and Dennis doesn’t know if he’s making fun of Dennis’s inexperience or his own age. Or maybe it’s not a joke at all and Dennis just has trouble understanding his sense of humor.

“C’mere,” Robby says, grabbing at Dennis’s waist and drawing him close.

He leans over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table and the room is plunged into darkness, the only light the strip under the door to the hallway.

“Glad we’re doing this,” Robby murmurs into Dennis’s hair, as he situates them on their sides.

“Me, too,” Dennis responds. “I think tomorrow’s gonna be a great day.”

Robby gives a soft grunt in response and Dennis hears his breathing slow down. Even though he’s exhausted, it takes a while for Dennis to finally turn his brain off and fall asleep, self-consciousness about moving too much and waking Robby back up preventing him from getting too comfortable.

The next morning finds Dennis sprawled across Robby like a starfish, his limbs spread out wide. As he groggily opens his eyes, he flinches at the way he’s clinging to Robby, like he’d been afraid of Robby leaving in the middle of the night.

Dennis gingerly rolls off of Robby, arranging himself on his side in a more reasonable fashion. He breathes slowly through his mouth so he doesn’t make much sound, watching Robby’s chest rise and fall with his steady breaths. Then the man yawns and stretches out his arms, waking up.

“Hi,” Robby says softly, smiling when his eyes find Dennis’s.

“Morning.” Dennis returns his smile, though he feels a little shy.

Are they supposed to kiss? Should Dennis have gotten up to brush his teeth? Does he want –

“I’m gonna get the coffee started. Need caffeine.”

Robby gets off the bed and walks over to the counter where he sets up the coffee maker, filling it with water from the bathroom sink. He scratches his chest and yawns again as he watches the coffee brew.

“Sleep ok?” Robby asks over his shoulder.

Dennis sits up in bed, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Yeah, thanks. Long shift yesterday.”

Robby huffs a dry laugh. “Yeah. Yes, it was.”

He turns then, his body facing Dennis. Dennis can see his morning wood pressing against his boxer briefs. He can’t help looking. When his eyes rise to meet Robby’s, there’s a knowing smirk on Robby’s face.

“You want a pre-breakfast snack?” Robby asks, raising his eyebrow a little.

Dennis smiles at him, and Robby comes over to his side of the bed. Robby pulls down his briefs and tucks them under his balls, spitting into his hand before he starts stroking his cock to full hardness.

Dennis crawls to the edge of the bed and hunches over so that he’s at a good height to take the tip of Robby’s dick into his mouth. Robby stands there, still holding himself, as Dennis bobs on the head of his dick, using his tongue to press into Robby’s slit, skate along his frenulum.

“How about…” Robby’s voice is a bit lower, huskier, as he spins Dennis around on the bed and encourages him to lie down.

This way, Dennis is lying flat on his back, his head on the edge of the bed. Robby hovers over him and Dennis has a good idea of what’s going to happen next. He opens his mouth as wide as he can and Robby slowly presses his cock into Dennis’s mouth. From this position, Robby can drive the fuck into Dennis, and Dennis just has to lay there.

It takes the pressure - at least the mental pressure - off. There’s some relief in being able to check out and just let Robby use his mouth, use his body to get off. Dennis is hard in his own briefs, but he’s gotten used to ignoring that. He’ll store up the memories of Robby pushing down, down, into his throat, and use them to get off later.

It doesn’t take long this time before Robby is shouting and pulsing down Dennis’s throat. From this angle, it’s an easier fit, and Dennis’s jaw isn’t as sore. When Robby pulls out, Dennis expects the sex to be over, so he’s surprised when Robby manhandles him around again, so that his legs are falling over the side of the bed.

“You were so good for me, babe, I think you deserve a little treat,” Robby says softly.

He tugs down Dennis’s underwear, which is already damp with his arousal. Robby leans over Dennis, balancing on one hand as the other runs through Dennis’s folds. He circles his cock once, twice, then slowly pushes one finger into his cunt. Dennis moans at the feeling of fullness. And then Robby’s thumb is pressing against his cock, rubbing on the nerves in just the right way, with just the right amount of pressure.

Dennis isn’t sure if it’s pent-up energy or because it’s early in the morning or because he’s just swallowed a load of Robby’s cum. Whatever it is, an orgasm floods through him fast, a tiny miracle on a Wednesday morning, as Robby pushes a second finger into his cunt, his thumb still bearing down on his dick.

And it’s the best feeling in the world, because it’s Robby.

Robby is giving him an orgasm. Robby is taking care of Dennis, understanding his body, noticing what he needs. Dennis moans loudly through it and tapers off as the orgasm starts to fade and he tips into overstimulation.

“Ok, ok, that was so good, you can stop,” Dennis rushes out.

Robby pulls back, a smug smile on his face as he straightens. “You must have really wanted it. You’re not usually that loud.” He walks into the bathroom and Dennis can hear the sink turn on.

He stares up at the ceiling, wondering if this feeling of disbelief is warranted. How has Robby not figured out that Dennis has never come with him before? He pulls a pillow over his face and lets out a quick scream.

Robby comes out of the bathroom, heading for the coffee. “You say something, Whitaker?”

Dennis sighs and tosses the pillow up by the headboard. “Nope. I’m gonna get in the shower.”

The day does turn out well. Robby seems excited to show Dennis around Fallingwater, and Dennis has to admit, the museum is interesting and grounds are amazing. They ride up to Ohiopyle and spend an hour or so walking through the park, finding more waterfalls, slowly picking their way next to uneven streambeds, Dennis pointing at fish.

Dennis nearly jumps out of his skin when Robby takes his hand to help him over some rocks, and then just… doesn’t let go. They spend another half hour talking, walking through a wooded path, hand in hand.

When they find a nice flat rock to take a break, Dennis can’t believe how deep their conversation gets. His chest is filled with nothing but warmth and happiness. They’re building something here, Dennis knows it.

“And so it was just me, when my grandmother died. Last of my line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis says, feeling bold enough to wrap his arm around Robby’s shoulders.

“Yeah, thanks. I hadn’t actually meant to come back to Pittsburgh after my residency. Couldn’t stay in New Orleans after Katrina. Big Charity closed down due to the storm damage and honestly, I’d seen enough in the aftermath. I was thinking I’d find somewhere on the East Coast, but then my grandmother got sick, and…” Robby shrugs. “I wanted to come home, I guess.”

This is the most personal information Robby has ever shared with Dennis. He feels like they’re connecting on such a deep level, that Robby must trust him with this guarded history. He’s already thinking about whether Robby would want him to change his last name.

They talk a little more about family. Dennis offers some stories when Robby pauses between his own. As they walk back to the bike to head home, Dennis’s mind is buzzing with the possibilities of future vacations with Robby, of making memories, just the two of them. Creating a family, just between them.

The ride back isn’t more comfortable, per se, but his face is frozen in a smile inside the helmet anyway.

***

“Hey, Dr. Abbot!”

“Hey, Whitaker.”

Dennis can’t do much more than wave at Dr. Abbot as he walks by the attending at the central hub. He’s juggling more patients than usual since Mel had left to go pick up her sick sister from her day program and Trinity is off for the afternoon at a dentist appointment.

When he’s shared the lab results with his patient who’s not suffering from gastroenteritis, but is instead pregnant, and he’s finished suturing a finger lac from a dishwashing mishap, Dennis returns to the hub to find Dr. Abbot scanning the patient board, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re here early,” Dennis remarks, stopping next to Dr. Abbot.

“I’m the cavalry,” he replies. “Robby called me and asked me to come in a couple hours early to bridge until the rest of the night shift gets here.”

Dennis breathes out a sigh of relief. “Sweet, merciful Mary.”

Dr. Abbot’s lips curve up on the edges and he sends Dennis an amused look.

“We’re swamped,” Dennis says, a little defensively.

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression from the board. Why don’t we tackle that neck pain coming in from triage?” Dr. Abbot looks at Dennis expectantly.

“Yep, yeah, let’s do it.”

Dennis is usually able to handle triage cases himself, but he’s not bothered by Dr. Abbot’s presence as they enter North 4. The man has a commanding presence. Maybe it’s from his time in the Army. Somehow Dennis always feels a sort of calm come over him when he’s working a case with Dr. Abbot.

The mid-30s patient in North 4, Mr. Adler, explains that he’s been having worsening neck pain for about a week as well as feeling pins and needles in his right arm. He’s enough of a smoker that Dennis can smell the cigarettes on him, with a history of harder drug use, but sobriety for the last several years.

Dennis performs a manual exam, gently probing the man’s neck and shoulders, up to his skull. He looks into his ears, nose, and throat. Nothing seems to be amiss, certainly nothing that would explain the neck pain. As Dennis is finishing his exam, Jack calls his attention over to the computer; the bloodwork from his earlier draw in triage is back.

Jack points to the slight increase in white blood cells, which indicates an infection, even if there aren’t any outward signs of it beyond the neck tightness.

“Mr. Adler, it looks like your body is trying to fight off an infection. I’m going to have you get a head CT so we can see what’s going on in your neck and head. Maybe we’ll get a clearer picture.”

Adler nods hesitantly and Dennis calls to get him in the queue. In the meantime, Dr. Abbot heads off to grab more patients and Dennis sees to a broken ankle and a colicky baby. He returns to North 4 when Dana tells him the CT results are back.

Dr. Abbot is already in there, making small talk with the patient.

“Ok, Mr. Adler, let’s see what’s going on here.”

Dennis scans the film. There’s nothing. Well, obviously, the man’s skull and his brain, but nothing on the CT indicates anything that would explain the neck pain or the paraesthesia in his arm.

He feels Dr. Abbot come up behind him, peering at the film over his shoulder. He gives a soft grunt of surprise.

“Well, Dr. Whitaker, what’s your next course of action?”

There’s something going on with this guy, Dennis knows it. They need to do more tests.

“I think we need an MRI. That would give us a better chance of detecting what’s going on.”

“Your call, kid,” Dr. Abbot says softly, so that only Dennis can hear him.

Dennis nods and grabs his phone to call up to IR. The resident who answers, Rosco, is not inclined to put Adler in the queue. Dennis looks over at Dr. Abbot and gestures outside the room.

He presses the phone against his chest and says, “Mr. Adler, I’ll be right back.”

Dr. Abbot follows Dennis out into the hallway, watching as Dennis speaks with the other resident.

“Yes, I know that the CT came up empty, but his elevated white count is indicating – ”

“I get that he’s got an elevated white count, Whitaker, but the line for an MRI is long and I don’t want to add in patients who don’t really need one.” Rosco sounds impatient on the other end of the phone.

Dennis sighs, not sure how to move forward. His eyes meet Dr. Abbot’s. The other man motions to Dennis to hang up the phone.

“Rosco? I’m gonna call you back.” Dennis hangs up without waiting for a response.

“What’s your play, kid?”

“Well, Rosco doesn’t want to – ”

“Sure,” Dr. Abbot says, interjecting. “But Rosco’s not Mr. Adler’s doctor. You are. What do you want to do? Ask for what you need, kid.”

The words ricochet around Dennis’s mind. Ask for what you need.

“I want Mr. Adler to get an MRI. We don’t know what’s wrong and something could be hiding in his brain that we couldn’t see with the CT.”

Dr. Abbot nods, a small smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. “Tell Rosco that.”

So Dennis does. It takes a bit of back and forth, but Dennis manages to convince Rosco to let Adler into the MRI queue. And when he’s reading the results an hour later, Dr. Abbot over his shoulder again, he feels vindicated.

“Mr. Adler, you have a condition called osteomyelitis in your occipital bone. It’s an infection in your skull bone, basically. But we can treat it with IV antibiotics and get you feeling better in a few days. We’ll need to admit you. But you’re going to be ok.”

Mr. Adler looks relieved. Dennis’s face warms up when his eyes meet Dr. Abbot’s and he sees the pride there. Dr. Abbot nods at him and walks out of the room. Dennis manages to keep a smile off his face until he leaves himself, heading to the central hub to beg Dana to find a bed upstairs for his patient.

***

They’re lounging on Robby’s couch, full after a delivery of Chinese and sated after mutual hand jobs. Robby’s reading a journal article and Dennis is zoning out on his phone. He scrolls past a reel of date night ideas, and something prickles in the back of his mind.

They still haven’t actually gone out on a date.

Dennis doesn’t really count the meals they’d shared on their trip to Fallingwater; those were all part of the mini-vacation. Maybe he should count the trip itself to be fair to Robby, but going out in a part of the state no one’s likely to know them doesn’t seem to fit the spirit of a date, where the point is maybe to show everyone else that you’re with someone. That you want other people to know that person is special to you.

“What if we went out on Friday night?”

The words are out of Dennis’s mouth before he can think too hard. Ask for what you need echoes in his mind. Robby looks at him, dipping his head down a little to see Dennis over the top of his reading glasses. His lips are pursed and Dennis’s stomach drops a little.

“This Friday night?”

Dennis shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

“I, uh,” Robby clears his throat, squirming on the couch a little. “I’m pretty sure I have plans with Jack this Friday night.”

If Dennis hadn’t been hoping so hard for a yes, he might have been amused by the way Robby is clearly uncomfortable and acting like Dennis has pinned him up in some kind of display, pressed him onto a slide to examine under a high-powered microscope.

“Ok,” Dennis says, trying to keep the disappointment off of his face.

He’d thought they were making progress. He’d thought that Robby had finally accepted that this relationship was going to make it, that they were meant for each other. Why is he resisting now?

“How about next weekend, babe?” Robby asks, his eyes back down on the article.

Dennis’s breath catches in his throat. His stomach flips, but in excitement this time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure. Next week.”

Dennis tosses his phone onto the couch and climbs over to Robby, peppering his face with kisses. Robby’s laughing, grasping at Dennis’s waist, as Dennis crawls into his lap and wraps his arms around Robby’s neck.

Next week is just as good as this week, Dennis thinks. Robby’s thinking of the future, planning for it. He gives a hum of contentment as Robby licks into his mouth.

***

Dennis sighs as he puts in the combination to his locker. It’s still effectively a downpour outside and he’s not looking forward to getting soaked. He should have paid attention to the forecast that they’d be getting storms today and tomorrow, but he’d woken up late and had barely been able to eat breakfast that morning, let alone check the weather.

He pulls open his locker door and looks down in consternation at the black umbrella lying on the bottom. This is not his umbrella. He looks around, stupidly, though he knows he’s alone in the hallway.

Who put an umbrella in his locker?

A few weeks ago, Dennis might have entertained the idea that Robby had done it. But Robby had been working the day shift, too, and probably wouldn’t have had time to do it.

He considers dropping it in the lost and found but then stops himself. Someone obviously went to the trouble of getting into his locker to leave the umbrella. Maybe the same person who’d left a second bottle of chocolate creamer in the fridge as soon as the first one had got low. Dennis had moved the Post-It to the new bottle when he’d opened it, even though the glue wasn’t sticking as well anymore.

Dennis shrugs. Someone is looking out for him in unexpected ways, and he’s desperate enough to accept the help right now. At least this means he won’t be completely sopping wet by the time he gets back to the apartment.

He heads back through the ED to leave through the triage exit, closer to the bus stop. Dr. Abbot nods at him as Dennis walks past clutching the umbrella, his face wearing a look Dennis can’t interpret.

“Have a good night, everyone,” Dennis calls out.

The rain is falling mostly straight down when he gets outside, and it’s only his pants that get a little rain on them by the time he gets home.

***

Dennis approaches the ambulance bay as Nguyen and Harley wheel in the patient on a gurney. Harley starts listing out the case presentation as Dennis nods at him.

“Patient is Jennifer Torres, 41, initially arrested for behavioral disturbance at the Marriot. Shows extreme agitation and aggressive behavior. Had recurrent episodes of vomiting while in custody; cops called us out.”

Dennis looks up at the police officer walking behind the EMTs and the handcuffs holding the patient to the gurney. He brings his penlight up to the patient’s eyes.

“Ms. Torres, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you, asshole, you’re right in front of me.”

Dennis sighs inwardly. “We’re going to Trauma Two,” he says gesturing as Robby walks up to hold the door open.

Princess is already in the trauma bay and as soon as the patient is hooked up to the monitors, starts calling out vital signs. Her blood pressure is low and she’s tachycardic, but her sats are good on the room air. She looks dehydrated and annoyed, but nothing is currently pointing to a medical event.

She twists around as the police officer moves in to reattach the handcuff to the trauma bay gurney and something falls out of her pocket. Mel crouches down to pick it up and holds it aloft. It’s a prescription pill bottle.

“Oh,” Mel says, her brow furrowing. “It’s 10 mg amitriptyline.”

“An antidepressant,” Javadi says. “Maybe this is an overdose?”

Robby walks into the trauma bay, pulling on gloves, and Dennis has to keep his eyes trained on the patient. Dennis opens his mouth to respond to Javadi when the patient suddenly seems to pass out.

“Pulse and sats are still strong,” Princess calls out.

Something else is happening, Dennis thinks.

“Check her glucose?” Mel asks.

Sophie pricks her finger and calls out the results; her blood sugar is crashing. The patient starts coming to soon after Princess adds dextrose to her IV.

“Ok, well, we need a full blood panel,” Dennis says. “I don’t think we can say overdose until we know more.”

Robby nods in the background and Dennis feels his face heat up a little. Larry comes in to help relocate the patient to a new room while they wait for the lab results.

When the results come in, Dennis crowds around Robby’s tablet with Mel and Javadi. He frowns. They do seem to point to an overdose of anti-depressants. But Dennis just isn’t sold; his gut is telling him something else is going on with the patient.

“Can we check the rest of her chart? She’s got a script, she must be seeing a regular provider.”

Robby gives Dennis an assessing look, then starts thumbing over to Ms. Torres’s full medical chart. By coincidence, she’d had some blood tests done within the last couple of weeks.

Dennis points to the screen. “Look at that, her thyroid levels are low.” He wracks his brain. “What about Addison’s? I think we need to check her adrenocortical and cortisol levels.”

Robby narrows his eyes as he looks at the chart, then over to Dennis’s face. “I don’t know, Whitaker, this seems a bit of a stretch.”

“I remember reading a paper my last year in med school about how an Addison’s crisis can present with behavioral disturbances. Basically, what looks like a neuropsych episode is masking the hormonal imbalance. Please, Ro-, uh, Dr. Robby.” Dennis flickers his eyes over at Robby feeling a little guilty for the slip. “I know I’m right on this.”

Robby holds his gaze for another couple of beats, then sighs. “Ok, Whitaker. It can’t hurt to run a couple more tests before we call up to psych.”

Dennis breathes a sigh of relief and gives a small smile. He gives a much bigger smile when the patient’s hormone levels come back critically low. She’s admitted for monitoring and hydrocortisone is added to her IV.

“Good catch, Whitaker,” Robby says, his elbows on the counter at the central hub as he and Dennis watch Larry wheel the patient toward the elevator with a resident from Internal Medicine.

“Thanks. Dr. Abbot taught me to – ”

“What?”

Dennis looks at him with some apprehension. He’s never heard this tone from Robby before, full of ice. He’s hesitant to continue, but Robby’s eyes are boring into his forehead, so he feels like he doesn’t have much choice.

“Uh, Dr. Abbot, the last time we worked together, he taught me how to advocate for myself – well, for my patients.”

Robby hums, his expression warming a little. “He did, did he.” It’s not a question. Dennis isn’t sure what to make of this exchange.

Robby pushes off the counter. “On to the next one, Whitaker.”

Dennis stares after him, confused for a minute, before looking up to the board to find a new patient.

***

“Like this, babe?” Robby asks, his forehead pressing into Dennis’s shoulder blade as his fingers tug on Dennis’s cock.

“Yeah, yes, yes,” Dennis mutters, still rolling his hips against Robby’s.

He’s close and he thinks he’s going to come. The tension has been building since Robby had pushed inside him, impaling Dennis on his lap. Robby’s finally figured out how to get his fingers exactly where Dennis needs them to be.

Dennis grinds down at just the right angle and Robby’s fingers find the perfect amount of pressure, and Dennis is cracking open on Robby’s dick. He moans loudly, his head falling backward, knocking into Robby’s.

Robby mutters a curse, but then brings his hands to bracket Dennis’s hips. He holds them in place while he thrusts up a couple more times, and fills the condom, groaning himself. They both sag against the couch.

“Fuck,” Dennis sighs, content and sated.

The warmth from his orgasm is flowing through each of his limbs and even the full pressure from Robby’s cock inside him feels good. He feels Robby fidgeting around him and he slowly leans forward to pull himself off Robby’s lap. Robby gets his hand around the base of his cock to hold the condom and grunts as it drops out of Dennis’s cunt.

“That was great, thank you, sir,” Dennis says softly.

He drops onto the couch next to Robby, making sure to sit on his legs so he doesn’t get any lube or slick on the couch. Robby’s already had to clean the couch twice in the last few weeks. He feels pleasantly hazy, like this is how it’s supposed to be: shared orgasms with his boyfriend.

Well… sort of boyfriend. At least, they’ll be going on a date next Friday night. Robby’s talked about taking Dennis out for dinner, and then maybe to a jazz bar or something afterward. Dennis is really looking forward to it.

Robby heaves himself off the couch and tosses the condom in the trash. “You look so good there, babe, all fucked out. Like my cute little puppy.”

Dennis smiles in Robby’s direction and leans his head against the back cushions of the couch. He’s made it. He’s going to beat the seven-week itch.

Chapter Text

“So things are going well with your ancient boyfriend?”

“Trinity. He’s not ancient. And technically, he’s not my boyfriend. At least not yet.”

Trinity watches him from her end of the couch as they drink beers after their shift. Dennis is trying not to dwell on how excited he is for the date with Robby coming up at the end of the week.

“Ah, yes, not until he slides the glass slipper onto your foot at the ball. You excited your man finally agreed to be seen out in public with you?”

Dennis shoves at her foot with his own before taking another sip of beer. “You make it sound like he’s been keeping me locked in a basement or something.”

Trinity shrugs, her eyes back on the tv screen where Love Island is playing.

“I mean, we’ve already been on a romantic overnight trip. But Friday night, it feels… I don’t know, big. Meaningful.”

Trinity’s eyes find his again, but they’re full of pity. The beer turns sour in Dennis’s stomach. He looks away first this time. He sighs.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re so…” Trinity makes a complicated gesture with her hands and Dennis is concerned she’s going to spill beer everywhere. “You just always see the good in people. Sometimes too much.”

She’s avoiding eye contact and Dennis knows she must be uncomfortable. They return their attention to the show, Dennis sneaking occasional glances in Trinity’s direction. He knows she’s just looking out for him. And maybe he is overly optimistic, at least where this thing with Robby’s concerned. But he can’t help it. Everything feels like it’s all happening the way it’s supposed to.

***

Dennis doesn’t notice it right away.

Monday night, Robby doesn’t text, but that’s normal. After spending time together over the weekend, they usually spend the first day of the week apart. It’s halfway through the Tuesday shift that Dennis realizes he hasn’t actually worked any cases with Robby yet that week.

It could be coincidence: the trauma cases Robby overseeing already having enough hands, or Dennis discharging patients quickly, or someone asking him for help, or…

It couldn’t be that Robby’s avoiding him, right?

As Dennis sits at the table in the break room, inhaling a granola bar, he mentally scrolls through the calls and patients of the day. It has to be random chance. Robby wouldn’t do that, be that petty, that juvenile. He nods to himself, determined to grab the next case that Robby’s running, to prove to… well, maybe only himself, but to prove that Robby’s just maintaining his regular professional distance.

The command phone rings out in the central hub and Dennis jumps to his feet. He’s out the door quick enough to hear Dana call out, “Incoming trauma, Cap, five minutes, 20-year-old woman fell off a horse, potential SCI.”

On the other end of the hub, Robby nods. “Ok, Dr. Mohan, you’re running this one. Santos, we could use you, too, and Javadi.”

“I’m open, Dr. Robby, I can help,” Dennis says, coming around the edge of the counter.

Robby flicks his eyes over to Dennis, then quickly away, like he doesn’t want to look at him for too long. Weird.

“Oh, it’s ok, Whitaker. Why don’t you grab a patient from the board?”

Dennis moves closer to Robby. “I haven’t worked any trauma cases today yet.”

Robby’s still looking away from Dennis, and he’s starting to take it personally.

Robby clears his throat and sort of nods. “Ok. Sure. Yeah, Whitaker, you can help. Santos, you’re off the hook for this one.”

Trinity raises an eyebrow from where she’s coming in from the South hallway. She briefly meets Dennis’s eyes with a significant look, then turns around to head back the way she’d come. Dennis hurries over to the trauma bays to wait for the patient.

She comes in taped to the hard spinal board, a c-collar around her neck. Kerns is pushing the gurney while Ziggler walks next to the patient, steadying her head and neck with one hand, while holding an IV bag up with her other.

“This is Jenny MacLean,” Ziggler says. “Twenty years old, fell off her horse during a training jump. Not altered, GCS 15, but no feeling in any extremities.”

“Jenny, I’m Dr. Robby and this is Dr. Mohan and Dr. Whitaker. We’re gonna figure out how we can help you feel better today.”

“Ok,” Jenny says, her voice small and teary.

They all move into Trauma One, Kim taking the bag from Ziggler to hang it on a poll, then attaching Jenny to the monitors. Once they transfer her to the hospital gurney and off the board, Kerns and Ziggler head out with a wave.

“Whitaker, I want you on airway,” Samira says, her eyes on the vitals. “Javadi, help Jesse with the sandbags for stabilization.”

Jenny is breathing on her own, so they don’t need to intubate, though Dennis calls for a non-rebreather mask to deliver high-flow oxygen. Her blood pressure is concerningly low and Dennis wonders if she might have an internal hemorrhage somewhere. He grabs the eFAST probe from Jesse and starts moving it around her upper quadrants.

“eFAST is negative,” Dennis says, once he’s probed each spot. “I think she needs a CT, though, to be sure there’s not internal bleeding we can’t pick up on the ultrasound.”

Javadi is now down by Jenny’s feet, testing reflexes and pain responses. Dennis’s eyes flicker back and forth between Javadi’s and Samira’s faces at Jenny’s complete lack of response. Dennis hopes that it’s just spinal shock, that she’ll regain motor control after her body has some time to heal.

“I don’t feel too well,” Jenny says, then, her voice cracking.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” Samira asks gently.

In answer, Jenny heaves a little.

“Need to log roll her onto her side!” Samira calls out and everyone lines up to support Jenny’s neck and spine as they tip her to her left side.

Robby calls out, “Suction!” as Jenny vomits. It mostly falls to the floor, but Jesse comes in with the Yankauer to help clean out her mouth.

“Ok, we really need to get her up to CT,” Samira says, nodding to Dennis to call up. “Let’s get Neurology down here for a consult, too. We might need to transfer her out to a spinal unit.”

Ten minutes later, Jenny is on her way to get a CT. Dennis pulls off his gloves and takes a deep breath, the adrenaline still coursing through his blood. He feels good about this case, and hopeful that Jenny will recover without paralysis. He wanders out to the central hub to look at the patient board and grab another patient.

“Good job in there, Whitaker,” Robby says, pausing next to him before moving on.

Dennis can’t help the smile stretching over his face. Maybe it wasn’t a clasp on the shoulder, or a squeeze on the neck, but the words of praise warm him up, sparking inside him better than any adrenaline rush.

Maybe things are a little weird between them today. It can’t last, not when they’ve got a date on Friday. Dennis is still smiling when he walks into North 3 to handle a hand lac.

***

Dennis had been disappointed when Robby had left the night before without saying goodbye. He hadn’t even realized the man was gone, until he’d been hanging around the central hub past seven and Dr. Abbot had told him to go home and get some sleep.

But today is another day. He’s determined to be more vocal about getting onto cases with Robby, about asking for what he needs. Pierce, a third-year resident from the night shift, raises their eyebrow at him during their handoff of two patients, maybe surprised by his exuberant follow-up questions. He smiles at them and gives a little shrug.

Today is going to be a great day.

His first new patient is a kid who’d accidentally dropped a glass bowl and stepped into the shards. Dennis spends twenty minutes picking tiny pieces of glass out of her feet as she bravely tries not to cry, clutching her mother’s hand. As Kim finishes dressing her feet, Dennis ducks out quickly to grab the book of stickers at the central hub for peds cases, then lets her choose one. She waves as her mother carries her out, a large smiling donut stuck on her shirt. Dennis waves back, a smile on his own face.

Then Dana calls out an incoming trauma, five minutes away. Two patients, middle-aged men, who’d been attacked during an attempt to steal their wallets. It had gone very wrong, and one patient was coming in with an anterior abdominal stab wound and the other with an anterior abdominal gunshot wound.

Robby materializes on the floor and starts calling out teams to handle each patient. “Dr. Mohan, I’m going to have you running the knife wound, take Santos and Javadi. Dr. McKay, you’re handling the GSW, with King and Whitaker.”

Dennis zooms into Trauma Two to be ready to receive the GSW patient. Within minutes, Crowe and Amboy are wheeling him in, along with Cassie and Mel. Tim starts hooking the man up to monitors, checking vitals, while Sophie and Mateo hand over supplies and tools.

Each time Robby comes in to check on their progress, Dennis tries to subtly angle himself so that Robby could get a casual hand on him, lean close, do any of the things he’d been doing for so long. Each time, it never happens.

By the time the patient is going to up to get a CT to check for peritoneal penetration, Dennis is feeling a little deflated. They’ve stabilized the patient, and that feels good. But the lack of interaction with Robby, the loss of the small touches Robby had bestowed so generously in the past… it’s messing with Dennis’s head a little.

He hadn’t realized just how used to them he is, how much he’d come to rely on them for a boost, for reassurance. Well, maybe Robby’s just having some personal struggles. That he’s decided not to share with Dennis. Maybe he’s not feeling well? But he hasn’t so much as coughed or rubbed his temples all day.

Dennis doesn’t know what to think at this point, except that he needs to try harder, maybe, to get Robby’s attention, to get some time alone with him so that they can sort this out and get back to being together.

A half hour later, another trauma case comes in, a toddler with a burn on her lips, and a suspected electrocution injury from chewing on some appliance wires. When Flores and O’Neil bring her and her parents in, the girl is screaming in pain. Robby calls out for Samira and Mel. Dennis, who’s just discharged a patient, walks toward the trauma bay.

“We’re all good on this one, Whitaker. Maybe next time.”

Dennis stands there for a moment, frozen. Princess walks by and sends him a sympathetic look. Great. All the nurses probably understand what’s happening better than he does. He heads back to the hub and looks up at the board to find another patient.

It turns out to be a 62-year-old man who’d been using a paint gun on his driveway and had accidentally sprayed his hand. Now his palm is sore and swollen. Dennis snaps on some gloves and bends over the man’s hand, palpating the swelling, taking more history.

“It was real fast. Just wasn’t paying attention, my hand slipped, got my other one, and I pulled it back. At first, it seemed fine, but then.” The man shrugs. “It started swelling up, and the missus told me I should come in.”

Dennis smiles up at him reassuringly. “I’m glad you did, sir. I think we’re looking at a high pressure-injection injury site. See that tiny hole, in the red part of your palm?”

“Yeah,” the man says, peering down at his hand.

“What happened is, when you accidentally blasted your hand, paint shot up into your palm under immense pressure. It doesn’t look like it now, but this could have gotten really bad in a few hours.”

“Am I going to lose my hand?” The man’s face is full of concern and fear.

“I can’t say for sure right now, but we’re going to do everything we can to prevent that, sir. First thing I’ll do is inject your hand with some pain medicine, get you some relief there. Then we’re going to want to start you on some antibiotics to be safe and get you in line to get your hand X-rayed.” Dennis moves to the computer terminal and starts typing in orders and notes. “I’m just going to step out and confer with my attending, and I’ll be right back, ok?”

The man nods, looking back down at his hand.

Dennis heads out of the room, looking around for Robby. He sees the man coming out of one of the West rooms.

“Dr. Robby, can I present a case to you?”

Robby seems to freeze for a second, before his eyes slip around the floor. “Uh, I’m on my way to, er, how about you present to… Dr. Mohan!”

Samira, who’s just emerged from the South hallway, looks up startled.

“Whitaker’s going to present a case to you,” Robby says, as he keeps walking and turns down the North hallway.

Dennis sighs internally, then heads over to talk through his case and decision-making with Samira.

***

Dennis isn’t sure how many times he’s read the text message Robby had sent late last night. He’s got it memorized now.

Robby <3 [23:12] sorry for the late notice, need to cancel on Friday

There hadn’t been anything else. No explanation, no context, no offer to reschedule. When he’d first seen it, Dennis had wanted to scream. All the avoiding Robby had been doing the whole week, and now to send a text the day before their planned date to call it off…

Dennis resolves to come in early to catch Robby before the Friday shift and pin him down on what’s going on and how Dennis can fix it. As he walks out of the locker hallway, he smiles a little to see Dr. Abbot and Ellis still at the central hub, obviously bickering.

“Why wouldn’t I just play tennis?”

“Because it’s more than tennis. It’s like tennis, plus badminton, plus table tennis,” Ellis says.

“Ok, but pickleball is a stupid name.”

“Who cares what the name is, boss? I just think you’ll enjoy it. It’s got a place for strategy. Work your mind.” Ellis points to her head. “Avoid dementia. You know.”

Dr. Abbot’s eyes narrow at her. Dennis stops at the counter and looks over at them.

“What happened to archery?” he asks.

Ellis starts laughing, bending at the waist a little.

Dr. Abbot’s tone sounds nonchalant, but his cheeks look a little pinker. “It got a little more competitive than I’d like.”

“Those society ladies smoked him,” Ellis says, still chuckling.

“Where were you raised, Ellis, in a barn? Don’t you know you’re supposed to respect your elders?”

“Sorry, boss,” she returns. “I promise to come visit you in the nursing home every Sunday.” She moves over to talk to Mel for handoffs.

Dr. Abbot grunts and turns to Dennis. “You got any witty comments you want to lay on me, kid?”

Dennis tries to suppress a smile and shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’d assign me to all the GI distress cases.”

“Smart kid,” Dr. Abbot says softly, looking away.

It’s not any different than the banter he’s exchanged with Dr. Abbot before, and the attending has praised him for good work in the past. Maybe it’s because of the way he feels like he’s starving for any crumb of appreciation, especially since Robby’s text the night before.

But, it feels nice: two short words that wash over Dennis like a warm bath and he feels like he can breathe deeply again. Dennis mentally kicks himself. He’s getting pathetic again. He sighs, maybe a bit too loudly.

“You feeling ok, kid?”

Dr. Abbot’s attention is back on him. Dennis looks up to see that the rest of the night shift is milling around the central hub waiting for shift change.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine, Dr. Abbot, thanks. Just tired.”

Dr. Abbot nods. “You know, kid, you can just call me Abbot. Don’t need to use the Doctor part.”

Dennis’s eyebrows raise a little. “Oh! Uh, ok. Thanks… Abbot.”

Abbot gives him a small smile, but the look in his eyes is a little hard to understand. Dennis has never actually noticed that they’re hazel before now. He’d just thought they were green, but there’s brown right around the pupil. He feels his face heat up when he realizes he’s been staring into Abbot’s eyes and he quickly looks away, clearing his throat.

When Robby walks in, it’s only five minutes until 0700, which frustrates Dennis to no end. He’d wanted to grab Robby before their shift starts, but now he won’t be able to. He moves away to hear the second-year resident Najeeb’s handoffs with Trinity, trying to keep his sighs to a minimum.

At one point, he feels a sort of tingling feeling on the back of his neck. He looks around and his eyes meet Abbot’s. Abbot stays looking at him for a few seconds before turning back to Robby, who’s started speaking to him.

Sometimes he wonders if he should just transfer to the night shift. Then he wouldn’t need to worry about the weird tension with Robby and they could continue on in their relationship without needing to be so careful at work. As Robby dismisses the night crew, he’s grateful that Samira drags him along with her to take over one of Ellis’s patients. He could really use a distraction.

***

Dennis shifts in his seat in the break room. He’s got a couple of minutes now, he just needs to actually do it. He looks down at his phone in his hand, open to the contact card. He just needs to press the call button. He summons up the courage and taps it, holding his phone up to his ear.

The line rings for possibly forever, the tone boring into Dennis’s brain. Just when he thinks it’s going to click over to voicemail, the other end of the line opens.

“H’lo?”

“Dad, hi! Happy birthday!”

Dennis winces at how his voice sounds, higher than normal, too bright, too peppy. He’s already sliding back into his desperate “please love me” routine.

His father grunts. “Thanks, Gr–ennis.”

Dennis tries not to sigh directly into the phone. It’s an improvement. Improvement is a good sign, right? His dad loves him, Dennis knows that. He just wishes the man would show it in a way Dennis could actually understand it as love.

“What have you been doing today?” Dennis asks.

His father grunts again and Dennis can hear him spit a stream of tobacco juice. “Tractor for the back field finally died. Tried to get the engine back, but I think I’ll have to make that deal with Roy to replace it. Give him one of our heifers. Probably just Mitzy, though, she hasn’t been producing as much as she used to…”

Dennis closes his eyes as he listens to his father monologue about what’s happening on the farm, as though Dennis would know every person he mentions, be aware of each issue and problem. A hot feeling of guilt pulls at Dennis, because, well, shouldn’t he? If he’d been calling home more often, if he had been keeping in better touch, he would know.

“Well,” his father says, spitting again, “think I need to get back to it. Thanks for calling, uh, son.”

The other end of the line goes dead before Dennis can respond, but hearing his father call him “son” puts a huge smile on his face. Maybe he just needs a little more time get Dennis’s name right every time, just a little more time to get used to it all. Maybe once Dennis has passed his boards and is a fully-trained doctor, his father will finally tell him how proud he is of Dennis.

The warmth in his gut over his father’s approval takes Dennis through the rest of his shift, buoying him in the face of the awkwardness around Robby. It’s not like he has daddy issues or something. He’s a normal guy. It’s normal to want to have a relationship where someone understands you, knows exactly what you like, treats you like you’re precious to them. Right?

As he watches Robby’s retreating back disappearing into West 13, a spark of hope remains. They had been so good together. There could still be a chance. Dennis isn’t ready to let go yet. His time with Robby can’t be over yet.

***

By the next Monday, Dennis is starting to wonder if it’s over. Maybe it’s stupid to keep hoping at this point. After the lack of response to all of his texts on Saturday (and Sunday), Dennis is starting to face that Robby is done with him.

He is also possibly still hungover from mournful beers over the weekend.

Trinity slams her locker closed and Dennis winces. Definitely still hungover. He groans.

“You can do it, Huckleberry,” Trinity says, low, right behind him, before leaving him alone in the hallway.

Dennis gingerly closes his locker door and rests his forehead against the outside, the cold metal against his skin a relief. When he hears footsteps in the hall, he almost lets out another groan. He wishes he could go back home, be alone for a little while. Maybe a year would be enough time.

“Hey, kid.”

The voice is soft and the cadence familiar and Dennis knows who it is without opening his eyes. Abbot never touches him, but just his nearby presence almost feels comforting this morning, like a hand on a shoulder. Dennis immediately starts thinking about each and every instance he’d felt Robby touch his shoulder, his large hand settling there, almost territorial, giving him a squeeze of reassurance or recognition. He sighs and turns around.

“Hi, Abbot.”

“You look rough, kid.”

“Yeah,” Dennis nods, trying not to wince at the pain in his head, “bit of a rough weekend.”

Abbot hums. “Something tells me this isn’t a celebratory aftermath.”

Dennis sighs and leans back to rest his head against his locker, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Look, I appreciate the concern, Abbot, I really do. But… I’m handling it. It’s fine.”

He hears Abbot shift around and looks over to see the other man leaning back against the lockers next to him. They stand there in silence for a minute. Dennis lets his eyes close as he breathes deeply.

“I’m not your daddy, kid,” Abbot says quietly, “but you need to take better care of yourself." Then his voice drops even quieter. "Or find someone who can do it for you.”

Dennis’s eyes shoot open. He must have heard that wrong. But, also, well, he’d thought he’d done that. He’d thought that Robby would take care of him, at least a little. Not like in a fatherly way, but in a sharing your troubles way, like a partner should. He resists the urge to knock his head back, knowing it’ll hurt like hell.

He’s about to thank Abbot, again, for his concern, and gently tell him to mind his own fucking business. But instead, he says, “I don’t think anyone would want to.” He hates that his voice is so small, that it sounds so helpless and sad.

“Oh, kid,” Abbot says next to him, barely loud enough for Dennis to hear. “Look,” he says a little louder, “if you ever want a change, we’d be lucky to have you on the night shift. Just say the word.”

He pushes off the lockers then, not even looking back at Dennis as he leaves the hallway. Dennis watches him go, thinking about his offer. Hadn’t he had the same thought before?

The idea of joining the night shift has some appeal, despite the way it’ll absolutely fuck up his sleeping. Different types of cases, learning to work with and from different people. It feels a little like running away, though, and Dennis isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

But as he pushes off the lockers himself and heads onto the ED floor, he clutches onto the tiny bit of warmth from Abbot’s concern.

***

Dennis feels a sense of relief as he sees Robby head to the elevators. There’s some kind of important administrative meeting for the next few hours that Robby has to attend, and he’d brought Shen in to sub as attending. The tension that’s been coiled in his gut the first couple days of the week starts to unwind.

Shen calls him for trauma cases when Dennis isn’t otherwise occupied and quickly approves his treatment plans when he presents cases, nodding as he takes big sips from his iced coffee. Sometimes he asks clarifying questions, giving Dennis an opportunity to show his decision-making.

Two hours later, Dennis feels like he can finally breathe, have the space to be a good doctor without constantly looking over his shoulder or keeping his guard up. He takes a few minutes to add some notes to a patient chart, enjoying a quick break off of his feet.

Because he’s short, people don’t always notice him on the other side of the computer monitor, especially if they’re standing in the central hub. That’s how he hears the hushed conversation between Princess and Kim.

At first, he doesn’t really register it, their soft voices just part of the white noise of the ED. But at a particular name, his ears perk up.

“…it’s just not like Robby,” Princess says.

“I mean, he’s been wound so tight lately. I’m actually more surprised about Abbot. He’s no Shen, but he’s usually so calm.”

There’s a pause, then Kim continues talking. “And they were yelling at each other?”

“Screaming, more like. Antoine didn’t get most of it, but he did say it seemed like they were yelling about someone.”

Kim gives a tiny gasp, so low Dennis almost misses it. “Do you think… you think they’re fighting over a woman?”

“No idea,” Princess says. “But the pool has categories for who they were fighting about, why they were fighting, and how long until they make up.”

“Where’s the board, they can’t have it on the floor, right?”

Princess snorts. “Yeah, we’d all get fired. It’s actually – ”

“You two got nothin’ to do?” Dana’s voice breaks in and Dennis cringes a little, hoping no one’s noticed his eavesdropping.

“Sorry, Dana,” Kim says.

“I was just…” Princess starts.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you both got patients to see to.” The phone rings at her desk and Dana picks it up, the conversation among the nurses over.

Dennis stares at the computer screen without really seeing it. Robby fighting with Abbot? He thinks back a couple of weeks to the time he’d walked up on them talking outside. It had sounded like almost an argument then. Maybe they're still fighting about that? Whatever it had been.

Then it occurs to Dennis – if they had been fighting over a woman, maybe that’s why Robby has been so distant. Maybe Robby is seeing both of them, and Abbot’s jealous? Or upset because Robby had stolen his girl?

It’s not like Dennis and Abbot are friends, so it’s not surprising that Dennis wouldn’t have known that Abbot is dating someone. All he knows about the man’s romantic life is the solid silver band he wears on his hand. He’d always assumed Abbot has a wife somewhere, though no one’s ever mentioned her.

Dennis puts his head in his hands, wanting to scream. It’s his own fault for getting involved with his boss, for opening himself up to being in the middle of this sordid workplace drama. He wishes he could go back in time and…

Well. He doesn’t quite regret starting up with Robby. When it had been good, it’d been really good. Right? Like Robby had been able to read his mind and know exactly what Dennis had needed. At least, well, at least the last time they’d been intimate, Robby had really gotten it. Plus, he’d opened up to Dennis, sharing his about his past.

“Shen! Incoming trauma, bike vs. car door, three minutes.”

Dana’s voice pulls Dennis out of his ruminating. He looks over his shoulder to see Shen about to walk by. The other man taps his shoulder in passing.

“Let’s go, Whitaker. This one has your name on it.” He points across the hub. “Mel! You, too.”

Mel looks over in surprise, then gives a small smile as she changes direction toward the ambulance bay. Dennis signs out of the computer and stands, stretching out his back. At least a trauma case will bring him back to the medicine and he can push whatever is going on with Robby and Abbot out of his mind.

***

By the end of his Friday shift, the best thing Dennis can say about the week is that it’s over. While he’s no longer completely freezing Dennis out of cases or blatantly avoiding him, Robby’s demeanor to him is definitely colder. Cold enough to draw surprised looks from other people.

Dennis has never been in a situation like this, where he needs to work alongside an ex. A former lover? He’s not even sure how to classify Robby now that they probably weren’t ever in a relationship to begin with.

More of Dennis’s pathetic delusions that Robby would want him, as a partner, as a boyfriend.

He’d seen the man getting texts on his phone earlier, had watched him smiling down at the screen as he’d thumbed out quick responses before sliding the phone back into his pocket. Dennis’s stomach had churned, wondering if Robby had, in fact, been seeing other people while he’d been fucking Dennis.

Dennis sighs as he opens his locker, wanting to get out of the hospital. He grabs his backpack and pulls it out, knocking something in his locker out and onto the floor. Dennis stoops down to pick it up and looks at it in confusion.

It’s a Whatchamacallit candy bar, a king-size version. Dennis can’t remember the last time he’d seen any candy bar in real king-size, much less his favorite one. He looks back and forth down the hallway, as though someone would be lurking to watch his reaction.

He stuffs the candy bar in his bag and closes his locker. He heads out through the ambulance bay, not wanting to see anyone before he leaves. On the bus ride home, he pulls out the candy bar, holding it in his hand.

Dennis tries to imagine who would have left it. Well, the candy bar, the chocolate creamer, plus that umbrella. He’d also found an extra pair of scrubs in his locker a couple of weeks before, but he’s still not sure if someone else did that, or he’d just forgotten bringing them in.

It’s almost like someone is keeping an eye on him, paying attention to the things he says, how he’s feeling, what he needs. He bites into the candy bar, the sweet and salty flavors exploding on his tongue. A wave of nostalgia hits him and he smiles. He feels cared for, in a way he can’t remember ever feeling before.

He just wishes he knew who was doing all these things for him, so he could return the favor. Or at least say thank you.

Dennis has finished the candy bar by the time the bus arrives at his stop. As he steps onto the street, he realizes that he’s smiling. It’s been a shit week – well, a couple of shit weeks – but he can still feel happiness. Isn’t that something?

Chapter Text

Dennis ignores the second knock. And the third. At the fourth one, he’s finally had it.

“Leave me alone, Trinity. Let me eat my Nutella in peace.”

The door to his room swings open and Trinity stands in the doorway, her hands on her hips. As she takes in the scene, her nose gets increasingly wrinkled.

“Huckleberry. What the fuck.”

Dennis knows he’s a mess. He’s lying in bed, still wearing the same pajamas he’d put on Friday night, not having showered since then, either. Food wrappers and glasses surround his bed and he’s slowly spooning Nutella out of the jar, getting most of it into his mouth.

“I think your pity party is over, man. This is just… this is sad.”

Dennis groans. “You don’t think I know that? You think I want to be this sad and pathetic?” Tears threaten again and he has to swallow against them.

Late Saturday night, the final death knell had sounded:

Robby <3 [23:27] look, whitaker, we both knew what this was, sorry if i didn’t handle it the best, but let’s move on like the professionals we are.

A single text, capable of breaking his heart into a million pieces. A confirmation that he’s not quite loveable. A good fuck, maybe, but not good enough to date.

He’s ruminating again, staring deep into the Nutella jar when he feels a sharp tug on his arm. He looks up to see Trinity, holding her breath in obnoxious fashion, pulling on him.

“What are you doing?”

“You need to take a shower, you need to change your sheets. We need to get some fucking air into this room, Christ, Huck. Open a fucking window.”

She retreats back to the doorway and Dennis rolls his eyes. He heaves a great sigh. He knows she’s just trying to help him.

“You’re gonna need to take the Nutella away from me. I’m not strong enough to do it myself.”

She reaches in and grabs it, then leans over and drops a wad of spit into the jar.

“Trinity!”

“See, now you won’t be tempted,” she says as she disappears down the hallway with it.

Dennis groans again and rolls himself out of bed. He trudges to the window and opens it a little. Ok, the breeze does feel nice, the fresh air smells good. He yanks it open even farther so he can stick his head outside.

He’s not even sure what time it is, just knows it’s sometime Sunday evening. He’d let his phone go dead, not bothering to charge it after reading the text around 0100 last night. The idea of having to go into work tomorrow, see Robby for 12 hours straight, turns his stomach. How is he going to get through this?

After several minutes of fresh air, Dennis drags himself into the shower, letting the water beat down on him, so hot it’s practically scalding. It feels good to scrub his skin clean, then dry it off. Though he still feels sad and hopeless, the shower has helped a little.

When he’s redressed in clean pajamas, he emerges into the living room and drops onto the couch. Trinity joins him after a few minutes, shoving a bottle of water into his hand as she flips on the tv to some kind of DIY home improvement show. Dennis looks over at her in confusion.

“Look at this chick – she’s hot, she’s competent, she knows her shit. Let me be a lesbian in peace,” Trinity says, sipping on her vodka cranberry.

Dennis settles into the couch and gets absorbed by the story on the show, a couple who’d bought a house for cheap with the intention to renovate it themselves, but who had got way over their head and eventually needed to call a professional contractor. Who just happens to have her own tv show.

“So,” Trinity says, as they watch the host picking out shower tiles. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan for what?” Dennis asks after a couple minutes, cocking his head to consider wallpaper colors for the couple’s bedroom closet.

“How are you going to handle seeing Robby at work?”

Dennis tips his head back against the couch cushions and exhales loudly. He really has no idea. Wandering into traffic has a certain amount of appeal, but honestly, he’s growing increasingly frustrated at the idea of ceding any of his passion for medicine, his love of his job, to Robby and his giant cock.

He thinks again of Abbot’s offer to switch over to the night shift. He rotates his head over so he can look at Trinity. She’s worked several night shifts so far, has really seemed to like working with Abbot. His teaching style is different than Robby’s, warmer, maybe, more effusive.

“Abbot offered to get me on the night shift,” he says.

Trinity grabs the remote and pauses the show, then turns to face Dennis. “When was this?”

Dennis shrugs. “Early this past week.”

“Huh,” Trinity says, turning back toward the screen. “You thinking you’ll do that?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t, Trinity. I don’t want to jeopardize my internship, or my residency years. If it gets out that l slept with my attending - and not even my senior attending, the fucking chief - I’ll just be that guy who fucked his way into a job.”

Dennis sighs. He’d really been that stupid, to think that he and Robby would be skipping hand in hand into the sunset, happily ever after. It was probably always going to end like this, though he desperately wishes Robby would have said something. Like how it was temporary, how Dennis shouldn’t get attached, how he was an emotion-less amoeba incapable of – 

Well. Clear expectations would have been nice, at least.

Trinity has resumed the show. Dennis watches for a few more minutes before picking up the conversation.

“You liked working night shift, right?”

“Hell yeah, I did. Abbot’s a really great attending. Good teacher, really supportive, and really open to nontraditional solutions, which really surprised me because of the whole…” she waves her hands around, “military thing.”

Dennis hums, thinking about it. He’d need to get used to being awake all night, have to readjust what a day means. But he does like the night shift crew, from the interactions he’s had with them so far. He doesn’t think there’s currently an intern regularly working overnights.

“I’m gonna do it,” Dennis says, making the decision as he says it out loud.

Trinity flicks her eyes over to him, then back to the screen. “Cool.”

Well, Dennis thinks. That’s that. He just needs to tell Robby.

***

Robby is surprisingly resistant to the idea.

“I need you on days, Whitaker.”

He’s not even looking at Dennis, his eyes focused on his computer screen. Dennis wants to yell at him, ask Robby why he’s so necessary for the day shift when Robby can barely stand to talk to him, much less work a case with him.

“I think that it would be valuable for my education to see the ED at all times, sir.” Dennis adds the last word as a bit of a dig and he feels a twinge of satisfaction when he sees Robby’s sharp intake of breath.

Robby’s eyes meet his, then dance away. He slides his glasses off and tucks them into the front pocket of his scrubs. Then he sighs. Dennis wonders how much longer he’s going to stall.

“Jack put you up to this?” Robby asks, looking across the floor, maybe at Mel and Trinity coming out of Central 6.

“I haven’t even spoken to Dr. Abbot about it. This was my idea.”

It’s true enough. Dennis had had the thought about switching his schedule before Abbot had made the offer. But given the weird tension between the attendings, Dennis isn’t interested in fanning any flames.

Robby sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and Dennis feels victory is approaching. “Let me… let me talk to Abbot, then I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” Dennis says before moving off quickly, not wanting to do or say anything that would antagonize Robby any further.

His next case is a kid who’d tripped while chewing on a popsicle stick and had gouged a deep wound in her soft palate. Dennis and Samira peer into her open mouth once Donnie’s suctioned out as much blood and saliva as he can.

Samira looks up at the child’s mother with a careful smile. “I think this is going to need stitches.”

“Are you sure? She’s only 6!” the mother exclaims, close to tears herself.

Samira nods. “We’ll need to sedate her. It’ll go quicker and easier that way, and the surgeon can use dissolving thread so you don’t have to worry about coming back to get them out.”

The mother gives a nod and takes a shaky breath. Dennis steps out of the room to call for an ENT and surgical consult, cringing as he runs his tongue along the top of his mouth. In about 15 minutes, the little girl is wheeled out of North 1 on her way to surgery.

Dennis returns to the hub to grab a new case. He doesn’t see Robby there. In fact, he only sees Robby a few more times during the whole shift, usually only when a bigger trauma comes in, requiring both bays or a fuller team. He makes his presentations to Cassie or Samira, mostly receiving approval for his diagnoses and treatment plans, with occasional probing questions.

He’s finishing up a patient with walking pneumonia when he sees Ellis walk by the doorway to Central 7 out of the corner of his eye. Checking his watch, he sees that it’s nearly 1900. He tries not to make his sigh of relief too loud as he adds a few more notes to the patient’s chart and lets him know a nurse will be in soon to go through discharge instructions.

Dennis is standing in front of the hub when Robby and Abbot come in together from the ambulance bay. They’re not talking and joking the way they usually do. Abbot’s hands are stuffed in his pockets, Robby’s wrapped around his midsection like he’s hugging himself. But at least they’re not actively fighting, Dennis thinks.

Robby continues on to say something to Dana, while Abbot stops next to him.

“Sounds like we’re getting you on nights for a bit, Whitaker.”

Dennis’s eyes widen. He hadn’t realized that they weren’t going to include him in the conversation. But then, he’s an intern. It’s not really up to him anyway. He swallows.

“Yeah, uh, yes. Well, I… I thought about what you said last week. And I think a little change of routine will be helpful.”

“Me, too,” Abbot says softly, looking at his watch.

“I hear that right, Whitaker? You joining the dark side?” Ellis is smiling at him, her face welcoming.

“Yeah, well. You both make it seem like it’s so much more fun.”

Ellis snorts. “Just wait. You work a couple weeks on nights, nothing during the day will faze you.”

“Don’t scare him off, Ellis,” Pierce says, taking a sip from their travel mug as they walk up to the counter.

Abbot clears his throat. “I could have sworn you all were supposed to be doing handoffs now.”

Ellis sends him a salute that’s not at all deferential and she and Pierce wander away. Abbot turns to Dennis.

“Your first shift is going to be tomorrow night. My recommendation is that you stay up as late as you can tonight. Take a cat nap if you need it, but try to stay up real late. Then sleep during the day, but make sure you’re up by 1700 at the latest. You need your body to get used to the new rhythm.”

Dennis nods, thinking through the way his life is going to effectively turn upside down with the time change.

“Thanks for that. And, thanks, Abbot, for the offer.”

Abbot moves his hand on the counter. It almost looks like he’s going to lift it to touch Dennis, but he doesn’t, instead shoving both hands back in his pocket. He nods and clears his throat.

“We’ve got your back, kid,” he says softly, before heading over to Robby to get the attending handoffs.

***

Night shift is a different animal compared to days.

It’s a smaller team: Abbot and Ellis, of course, with Shen alternating between full night shifts and swing shifts, and then Najeeb and Pierce. Abbot had explained that they sometimes get a med student or two during their ED rotations but haven’t had one in a while.

Dennis marvels at the way they work together, as though they’re all part of a choreographed dance troupe. Things are less formal, the residents referring to Abbot by his last name or “boss,” and each other by last names. There’s a level of joking and irreverence not present during the day shift. And as Trinity had said, despite his military background, Abbot seems relatively laid-back, particularly in comparison with Robby.

For his first night, Abbot tells Dennis to stick with Pierce to learn the ropes. He hasn’t had too many conversations with them, but immediately takes to them and their calming mannerisms and soft tone.

“We have a lot more autonomy on the night shift,” they explain, as Dennis follows them to meet a patient coming in from triage. “And we rely on our nurses a lot more, like Jackson here.”

The nurse, Jackson, is a short wiry Black man with a warm smile on his face, pushing an elderly woman with an oxygen mask in a wheelchair.

“And this is Mrs. Gina Balducci. Mrs. Balducci, have you been smoking again?”

The woman pulls the mask off and responds in a raspy voice. “I’m dyin’ anyway, let me have my smokes.”

Pierce sighs. “Thanks, Jackson, we’ve got her from here.”

Dennis trails after Pierce as they push the wheelchair to North 5 and start taking Mrs. Balducci’s history since her last visit. She has COPD, and had come in when she’d woken up from a nap, finding it more difficult to breathe than usual. She stubbornly refuses to give up the cigarettes.

“We’re going to need to do an x-ray of your chest, to check out your lungs. It sounds like you’re having a flare-up. You might need to stay in the hospital overnight.”

Mrs. Balducci rolls her eyes. “Whatever you want to do, sweetie. Sooner or later, I’ll see my Mort again. Not much you or I can do to change that.”

Pierce smiles at her. “Well, if you lay off the smoking, you can stick around a bit longer for your grandkids.”

“Really know how to twist the knife, don’t you, sweetie.”

Pierce pats Mrs. Balducci’s knee. “You sit tight here and I’ll get you in line for that x-ray.”

They signal Dennis to follow them out of the room, pulling their hospital mobile out of their pocket to call up to Interventional Radiology. When they’ve got Mrs. Balducci in the queue, they pause next to the central hub, nodding their chin in the direction of North 5.

“She’s been coming here for COPD flare-ups for about a year. Husband died two years ago. She’s got three kids, and I think five grandkids. Lives alone, but her children are active in her life. We get repeat customers like that. You’ll get to know them.” They pause, their face dropping into a small frown. “They’ll break your heart.”

Dennis swallows and watches Pierce catch themself and smooth their face into something more neutral.

“Don’t mind me! Too empathetic, Abbot says. Well. Maybe so.” They shrug. “Ok, Whitaker, next one’s your pick. Show me what you’ve got.”

Dennis and Pierce manage a handful of non-critical cases. The pace is a little slower than during the day, though the stream of patients is still continuous. Traumas are less frequent, too, but seem worse, somehow.

The first one that comes in that night is an MVC with two cars. The driver of one is dead at the scene, and their passenger, along with the other driver, are brought in. Dennis has to keep himself from reacting when the passenger is wheeled in, her belly heavily distended.

“Ok,” Abbot says, his voice steady. “We’ve got two lives to worry about here. Allie, we got a fetal monitor in here, or is it out in the OB cart?”

The nurse points her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s in here, boss. I’m on it.”

Abbot nods to her. “Whitaker, you hit the ABCs. Pierce, you did that seminar in OB, right?”

“Boss, that was two years ago.”

“Whitaker, when was your OB rotation?”

Dennis looks up from assessing the patient’s breathing. “Uh, last year?”

Abbot looks at him and nods. “Ok, then, you’re on pregnancy detail. Swap with Pierce.”

“Uh…” Dennis watches, bewildered, as Pierce gently pushes him down toward the patient’s belly. They immediately take over assessing circulation, checking vitals and speaking softly to the patient, explaining what’s happening.

“In an MVC, what do we need to be most concerned with pregnant patients, Whitaker?”

Dennis meets Abbot’s eyes. The man is looking at him expectantly, but with confidence, like he assumes Dennis is going to know this, going to handle this all just fine.

“Placental abruption?”

Abbot nods. By now Allie’s hooked up the fetal monitor and the heartbeat sounds are coming in, but they seem slower than what Dennis would have expected.

“Bradycardia,” Allie says softly. “We definitely need OB down here. Might need to do an emergency C.”

“We’ve got vaginal bleeding, no clots,” Dennis says, as he cuts through the patient’s pants, draping the sheet Allie hands him over her hips and legs. This amount of blood for anyone would be concerning, but in this context, it’s even more alarming.

“Ok, let’s get two units whole blood, Allie, and hey, can you pull Jackson from chairs real quick?” Abbot’s voice maintains the calm tone, as though he’s discussing the game scores from last night.

Allie nods quickly, then dashes out of the bay. She’s back in less than a minute, Jackson following her a couple minutes after. At Abbot’s request, Jackson calls up to OB, shaking his head as he talks on phone.

“Didn’t want to wake up their on-call attending,” Jackson mutters to Abbot. “But Dr. Sawyer should be down soon.”

“Good, good,” Abbot says. He leans over the patient. “Ma’am, what’s most likely going to happen is that you’re going to have this baby today. We think during the collision, your placenta got detached from your uterus, so we need to deliver quickly to help you and your baby.”

The woman is crying, understandably upset. Dennis thinks about how the driver of the car she had been in is dead. He wonders if that was her spouse.

“Is my baby going to be ok?”

Abbot takes her hand and squeezes it gently. “We are going to do everything we can to get there.”

Five minutes later, a short white woman with graying hair appears in the trauma bay. She immediately jumps into the action, checking the fetal monitor, palpating the patient’s abdomen.

“Nice of you to join us, Sawyer. Sorry we interrupted your nap,” Abbot says mildly.

Sawyer snorts. “Everyone’s just afraid to wake me up. Like I’m a dragon or something. Ok, we’ve got a surgical bay upstairs with your name on it, Ms. Campbell. Let’s go.”

And then she’s gone, with a tech she’d brought with her, taking the patient upstairs. The room is quiet for a few seconds before everyone starts shedding their gloves and trauma gowns.

“Good work, everyone,” Abbot says, warmth evident in his tone. “Jackson, I appreciate the hard pivot and the sweet-talking upstairs. Allie, you get better with that equipment every time. Pierce, well done on the assessment and monitoring. And Whitaker, excellent job diving into OB care.”

He sails out of the trauma bay and Dennis just watches him go, feeling a little stunned. Pierce stops next to him and he turns to them.

“He always do that?”

They huff a short laugh. “Yeah, Abbot’s a big believer in positive reinforcement. Mind like a steel trap, too. He once called out something I’d done better, when the last time I’d done it was, like, six months ago. He’s very detail-oriented.”

The rest of the shift doesn’t exactly go by quickly, but it doesn’t drag. Dennis and Pierce handle a panic attack, two alcohol poisonings, and a walk-in hit and run victim, in the midst of other more run of the mill complaints.

With 0630 is approaching, Abbot takes Dennis aside and motions him to follow. Dennis is confused when they head to the elevator and Abbot presses the top floor. Then they go into a stairwell and they’re out on the roof. Dennis’s eyes widen, both at the spectacular view as the sun peeks above the horizon, and the thrill that zips up his spine at how high up they are.

“I come up here, sometimes,” Abbot says, leaning against a safety railing. “Helps me remember.”

Dennis wants to ask Abbot to elaborate, but he stays silent, looking out at the city, the river, the sky. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He can feel how his body is aching from being awake, from the constant movement for the last twelve hours. He’d been able to catch a quick 20-minute nap a few hours ago, but has otherwise been going non-stop.

“You were great tonight, Whitaker,” Abbot says, breaking the silence.

Dennis opens his eyes and looks over to see Abbot’s on him. His face heats up and he looks away. “Thanks.”

“No, no, you’re gonna get all sheepish, aren’t you? I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. You’ve still got a ways to go, but you’re learning. You’re getting there. Pierce thinks you did really well.”

Dennis nods. “They were really helpful, all night.”

“Yeah, they’re my go-to if I need to assess someone’s skillset. Could probably give some of the Army interrogators I know a run for their money. They’ll get shit out of you that you didn’t even know about yourself.”

Dennis laughs, a little punchy with fatigue.

“Yeah, you did really well,” Abbot says softly, looking out to the horizon. “You’re gonna be ok, kid,” comes out even quieter, almost lost to the breeze on the roof.

Dennis looks back at Abbot, but the other man is still looking ahead. Dennis wonders how much he knows, about him and Robby, about why he really wanted to get off the day shift. But he doesn't ask that, either. They stand in silence for a few more minutes, just sharing each other’s company, before Abbot gestures that it’s time to go back downstairs.

***

“Ok, if you make this one, I’ll let you do the next chest tube.”

“I’ve already done, like, three, since I started on nights. No deal. No, if I make this one, you have to request the surgical consults for the rest of the shift.”

“But Walsh is on tonight!”

“Exactly.”

Abbot sighs, resigned, and nods. “Fine. Deal.”

Dennis picks up the grape from the bowl on the counter, takes aim, and gets it right in Abbot’s mouth. Ellis and Najeeb clap loudly. Pierce rolls their eyes, but Dennis can see them trying to fight a smile.

“Whitaker, you are some kind of savant,” Najeeb says, shaking his head. “Five in a row.”

“You better hope we don’t get any more trauma cases tonight,” Abbot says, leaning over to grab a couple more grapes from the bowl.

As soon as he’s finished speaking, the phone rings at Lena’s desk. She sends Abbot a dirty look as she answers.

“Don’t piss off our charge nurse, boss,” Ellis scolds.

“Fruit Olympics are over,” Lena says, hanging up the phone. “Incoming trauma, five minutes out, 36-year-old man with extreme abdominal pains.”

Everyone begins to mobilize. Pierce volunteers to remain on triage and maintenance of their current cases, with the other four responding to the trauma, at least initially. They’ve only just finished tying their trauma gowns closed when Paris and Gallagher wheel in the patient, clutching his stomach and groaning. A frazzled-looking woman with a coat tossed on over pajamas walks beside the gurney.

Paris runs down the presentation. “This is Matt Cooper, his wife Sarah. Matt started experiencing left-side abdominal pain around three hours ago that did not diminish with NSAIDs and kept him awake. Sarah called when he started having difficulty breathing.”

They transfer Matt to the gurney in Trauma One and Ellis takes point, asking a few more questions about Matt’s medical history.

“I’ve got a weak diaphragm,” he chokes out, still obviously in pain. “I don’t remember what it’s called, but the left side is higher than the right?”

“Can you do something for the pain?” Sarah asks, her face twisted with concern.

“Darlene, can you take Mrs. Cooper to get some water or something? Ma’am, this will go faster if you…” Ellis points outside the bay.

The wife looks reluctant to go, but nods to the gently smiling nurse, who wraps her arm around Sarah’s shoulder and guides her outside to stand on the other side of the windowed doors.

“Ok,” Ellis says, giving a quick nod. “Najeeb, check out his respiration and that abdomen, Whitaker, on eFAST.”

Najeeb hastily puts on his stethoscope and listens to Matt’s lungs, then slides it down to each of the four abdominal quadrants. “No breath sounds on the left, hearing some gurgling in the upper and lower left quadrants.”

Allie hands Dennis the eFAST probe and he tries to hit each area smoothly without pressing too hard on the patient’s swollen abdomen. “Negative on eFAST, Ellis,” he calls out when he’s finished.

“We need to see what’s going on inside this left side,” Ellis mutters. “Allie, let’s do a portable x-ray here. I’m worried about a tension pneumo.”

A few minutes later, Dennis is peering at the x-ray film on the screen along with everyone else crowding around it. There’s free air on the left side, all right, but it’s in the abdomen.

“Sir, you’re experiencing what’s called a tension pneumoperitoneum,” Ellis says, bending over the gurney a little. “There’s some air in your abdomen, which is what’s making it swollen. Because of your weakened diaphragm, it also looks like some of the air’s gotten above that, which is putting pressure on your left lung. That’s why it feels hard to breathe.”

Matt pulls the oxygen mask he’s wearing to the side to talk. “Am I gonna die?”

Ellis shakes her head. “We’re going to do everything we can to prevent that. First, we’re going to insert a needle into your side to draw some of the air out, that’ll help you feel better. Then, we need to get you a CT scan to further diagnose what’s happening before we get you into surgery.”

She signals to Allie. “We’re going to hook you up with some nice pain meds so you won’t feel anything.”

Dennis’s eyes meet Abbot’s across the room for a brief moment, before Ellis draws Abbot’s attention and points with her thumb to the phone on the wall. Dennis has to suppress a smile as Abbot gives a little pout before heading over to call up to Surgery for a consult, then IR to get the patient to the front of the line for a CT.

Dennis watches Ellis guiding Najeeb as he inserts a large needle into Matt’s thoracic cavity and draws out some of the air. He’s noticed the Ellis’s teaching style has a lot of similarities to Abbot’s: verbal coaching with hands-on experience, standing back to allow for autonomy while being ready to jump in if needed.

Walsh appears a few minutes later, looking grumpier than usual. “You don’t even have the CT results back yet?”

“We’ve got an x-ray,” Abbot replies, a grin on his face.

Walsh rolls her eyes but comes up to the gurney to palpate Matt’s abdomen, then flicks her eyes up to check his vitals. She sighs. “I’ll walk up to IR with him, make sure they get him in fast. Haven’t seen a diaphragmatic eventration in a while.”

Darlene goes up with the procession, explaining to the wife what’s happening. As the trauma bay empties, Dennis removes his gloves and trauma gown, tossing them into the bin.

“Dr. Ellis, great job as always, both in handling the case and supporting Najeeb. Najeeb, good work on the air extraction. Whitaker,” Dennis looks up to catch Abbot’s eyes as they settle on him. “You’re getting better with the eFAST. Just remember, slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

Dennis feels the praise wash over him like someone’s poured a glass of warm water onto his head. And then he realizes that it’s not just Abbot’s praise. It’s the recognition that, yes, he is improving. He feels proud of himself. He can see the changes in his techniques, in his practice. And as nice as it is to hear Abbot acknowledge it out loud, it’s even better knowing, deep within himself, that it’s true.

***

“You feeling ok, kid?” Abbot asks.

Dennis waves his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Abbot’s eyes narrow as he looks at Dennis, as though Dennis is a puzzle he’s trying to solve. He hums and looks away. “Take a break if you need it.”

Then he pushes off the counter at the hub, heading over to South 18 to check on the patient he’s running with a broken leg. Dennis shakes his head as he watches Abbot leave. He’s feeling fine.

An hour later, Dennis feels a twinge in his neck, a tightness he hadn’t noticed before. Huh. Maybe he’d pulled a muscle a little with that last gurney transfer. He shrugs it off and continues toward Central 9 to talk to his patient about the lab results that have just come in.

After another hour, the tightness in his neck has spread down his back and up around his skull. He wipes a hand across his forehead and it comes away damp. Huh, he’s sweating a bit. Maybe the A/C is broken? He walks over to the central hub.

“Hey, Lena, you feeling like the floor’s too hot, too?”

“Oh, honey,” Lena says, her face showing concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

It’s a little hard to hear Lena over the sound of rushing blood in his ears, which Dennis knows isn’t a great sign. He squints at her as she calls out something. And then there’s a presence next to him. She must have been calling for Abbot.

“Let’s get you to the breakroom, kid,” Abbot says, softly but right in his ear so Dennis can hear.

Abbot keeps pace with Dennis, who can’t walk too fast without making the pounding in his head worse. When they get to the breakroom, Abbot flicks the lights off and hovers over Dennis until he’s sat in a chair at the table. Within minutes, Abbot’s pressing some naproxen sodium and a bottle of water into his hands.

“Headache?”

“Yeah,” Dennis grunts after swallowing the pills. “Just snuck up on me.”

Abbot hums. “Well, we’re in a lull, so you stay in here for a bit, until the NSAIDs kick in.”

“Oh, I don’t need to – ”

“If you want, I can make that an order,” Abbot says, and the low, raspy way he delivers the line sends a shiver down Dennis’s spine for some reason. Weird.

Dennis sighs. “Fine.”

Before he turns to go, Abbot leans over to speak softly near Dennis’s ear. “I know you’re tough, kid. It’s ok to let someone else take care of you sometimes.”

And then he’s gone, out of sight, and Dennis is left alone in the breakroom. He rubs the back of his neck, digging into the tight muscles there, puzzling over how Abbot had spotted the signs of Dennis’s headache coming on hours ago.

He bends over the table and lays his head down onto his folded arms, wondering what it would be like to be taken care of outside the hospital, by someone who picks up on barely detectable signs of pain, who rushes in to soothe it, who just knows his body inside and out.

Once the Aleve starts working, Dennis stands and stretches, shaking his head to dispel the fantasy. The closest he’s gotten to that is his mystery person, who had, unfortunately, stopped leaving gifts for Dennis in his locker. Dennis snorts to himself – just confirmation that no one would want to stick around long-term.

Dennis heads out to the central hub. Lena coos over him for a couple minutes, and then he’s back into the fray, picking up some minor cases. He’s not going as fast as he usually is, but he makes good progress, discharging a handful of patients by the time the shift is ending.

Trinity comes up to him when she arrives. “Heard you had a rough night toward the end there, Huckleberry.”

Dennis looks at her in confusion. “Where did you hear that?”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Fridge is all stocked, check the counter for more shit.”

“Wait, what?”

Trinity punches him in the arm. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that,” she says, then moves to speak with Ellis.

Dennis doesn’t have any holdover patients, so he has nothing to handoff. Before he leaves, he glances over at Abbot talking with Robby. Like he can feel Dennis’s eyes on him, Abbot looks directly at him. Dennis watches the corner of his mouth turn up a little before he returns his attention to Robby.

When he walks in the door to the apartment, he can see a grocery bag on the kitchen counter, full of Gatorade, electrolyte powder, bananas, bread, and peanut butter. In the fridge are more fresh fruit and vegetables, along with a large container of chicken noodle soup. He’s touched that Trinity had gone to all the trouble to get this delivered for him.

He takes a hot shower, then falls into bed, the feeling of being cared for wrapping him up as he drifts off.

Chapter Text

Dennis isn’t quite sure how it’s happened, but after their Tuesday night shift is over, he finds himself walking next to Abbot toward a diner just down the street. There’d been a conversation about favorite breakfast meals, and Abbot had mentioned the skillet options at this hole-in-the-wall spot nearby. When Dennis had confessed that he’d never been there, Abbot had declared that they would fix that. And now Dennis is walking into the diner as Abbot holds the door open for him.

“Jack!”

The shout comes from the other end of the long rectangular diner, a tiny space cut out between a bookstore and a real estate agency. Abbot puts his hand up to wave as an older man comes from the kitchen in a white apron, a hand towel slung over his shoulder. He claps Abbot on the shoulder, a big smile on his face.

“What’s the word, Sal?” Abbot says, returning the smile.

“My wife keeps threatening to leave me for that young new actor, the one in that movie?”

Abbot shakes his head. “It’s always somethin’, isn’t it?”

“Eh, your Lizzie would never. Now there was a woman.”

Dennis watches Abbot’s smile get a little tighter, the lines around his eyes get a little strained.

“Yeah,” he says, then clears his throat. “Two house skillets, please, Sal.”

“Anything for you, Jack. Over easy?” Sal looks over to Dennis now, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Uh, yes?” Dennis responds, not quite sure what’s happening.

The older man nods, then turns to yell over his shoulder. “Casey! Let’s get two cups of coffee here. And make sure it’s all on the house.”

Abbot opens his mouth, but Sal puts up his hand. “Don’t fight me on this, Jack. Sit down and eat your food.” He gestures to the table in front of them, pushed against the wall like the others, and then heads back toward the kitchen.

Dennis sits at the table, his back to the entrance, and Abbot sits across from him. He waits quietly for Abbot to say something, wondering if he’ll address it. It takes a couple minutes, but then Abbot sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“Liz is… was my wife. She’s been gone a little over two years now.”

Dennis nods, not sure what to say, how to respond to this information. He’d assumed Abbot had a partner, probably a wife, given the wedding ring, but he’s never really considered what it's meant for Jack to never speak about her.

“She was a public defender,” Abbot continues, a small smile on his face. “Sal’s son got into some trouble with a couple friends of his in high school a while back. She was the PD on the case and was able to get him into a diversion program. Gave him a chance to turn his life around, get involved with the community.”

As he takes in the look on Abbot’s face – a combination of pride, and also love and devotion, like his wife had been the sun Jack’s life had simply orbited around – a strange feeling sparks in Dennis’s stomach. What must it be like, to experience that kind of partnership? Dennis gives his head a small shake. It must be the upside-down sleep schedule that’s making him think such fanciful things.

The server, Casey, comes with coffee then, breaking off the conversation. Dennis stifles a yawn as she fills their cups, wishing he had some of his chocolate creamer.

“Hey, Casey,” Abbot gestures to her and whispers something in her ear.

She shakes her head. “Sorry, Jack, we only carry the regular stuff.”

“’S all right, just thought I’d check.”

She smiles and leaves, saying their order will be up in a few minutes.

“Did you need something else?” Dennis asks, taking a sip of coffee.

Abbot snaps his eyes to Dennis, then away. “Oh, no, it’s nothing. So, how are you liking the night shift so far, kid?”

Dennis shifts in his seat. He’s not sure what it is, but hearing Abbot address him as “kid” on such a regular basis whenever it’s just the two of them gives him a strange, squirmy feeling in his stomach. It’s probably just getting over Robby. And working with Abbot so frequently. With a smaller crew on the night shift, it’s common for him to work cases with only Abbot.

On the day shift, as chief attending, Robby tends to flit around the residents and med students to check on them, rather than working cases himself, aside from major traumas. But at night, Dennis has quickly gotten a sense for the way that Abbot works, the techniques he prefers. He’s had a front row seat for the easy rapport Abbot seems to build with his patients, the balance he strikes between casual friendliness and professionalism.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Dennis nods, taking another drink of coffee. “The cases are definitely a different flavor, but I like the pace. I like how well everyone seems to work together.”

The side of Abbot’s mouth turns up a little. He looks like he’s ready to say something else, but then Casey arrives with their food. In front of each of them, she places a big bowl with hashbrowns, sausage, and gravy, with three eggs over easy on top. They each get a plate of biscuits to go with. Dennis feels his mouth literally watering as he smells the food.

“Oh, fuck me,” he says with his mouth full at his first bite.

It’s savory and salty and so fucking good. The hashbrowns are perfectly crispy, the eggs are runny, and the gravy has big chunks of sausage without being too thick.

Abbot is smiling at him, his whole face lit up, as he spoons some of his own food into his mouth. They’re silent for a few minutes as they eat. Sal comes by to make sure they’re satisfied. Abbot officially introduces him to Dennis, telling Sal that if Dennis ever comes by without Abbot, to give him the hookup. Sal’s eyes widen a little as he looks back at Dennis, but he nods, clapping Abbot on the back before returning to the kitchen.

“You have regular spots, kid?”

“What do you mean?”

Abbot shrugs. “You know, like, your favorite coffee shop or corner store. Places where the employees or the other regulars recognize you?”

Dennis takes another bite of food, considering it. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Just, you know, so busy with med school, and now residency. I, uh…” He clears his throat and drinks some coffee. “Money was pretty tight for a while, so I didn’t go out much.”

Abbot doesn’t say much to that, though Dennis thinks he sees his nostrils flare a little, and his eyes get a bit darker. He’s not sure how to interpret that. He seems to shake it off quickly, though.

“Liz taught me the importance of having a community like that. You know, regular places you could go, where you build relationships with people over time. Finding people you can rely on, and vice versa.”

Dennis hums. “How did you two meet?”

“In Minnesota, actually,” Jack says, spreading some butter onto a biscuit. “She was working in Minneapolis as a PD and I was doing some post-bac work at U of M. She was in the apartment next to mine. You know,” he laughs, “we actually started off disliking each other. I was a night owl back then, too, fresh out of the service and angry, still in rehab, and she was so goddamn bubbly all the time, like a literal walking ray of sunshine. Pissed me off to no end.”

He takes a bite of the biscuit and Dennis tries to imagine the Abbot of decades ago, grumpy and prickly. It doesn’t match up at all with the man Dennis knows now.

“There was a plumbing mishap with her kitchen sink that I ended up helping out with, and then she offered to cat-sit when I went to a conference, and that was that. Peace in our time.”

Dennis reaches for something else to ask. “Why did you want to become a doctor?” He tries not to cringe at the sophomoric question, but he’s genuinely curious.

Abbot opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s a small smile on his face, almost mocking, but Dennis doesn’t think it’s directed at him. If anything, Abbot’s expression seems self-deprecating.

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to help people?”

Dennis senses that there’s more to it than that. That maybe, underneath his calm exterior, there’s an ocean of depth to Abbot that Dennis hasn’t considered before. When Abbot’s eyes flicker up to meet his briefly before looking away again, Dennis thinks he sees some pain there, and he doesn’t know what to say to that.

After a few minutes filled with just eating, Abbot looks at Dennis, a smile back on his face. “You’re from Nebraska, right, kid?”

Dennis nods. “Yep, Broken Bow. Small town.” Jack hums in acknowledgement.

“My family’s been in farming for a long time, like, generations. I was born a while after my three brothers, an oops baby. My mother died when I was young.”

Abbot makes a sympathetic noise and Dennis nods, sending him a small smile. He doesn’t like to think about it too much, about how the light seemed to go out of the family and how he'd sort of sunk into himself, mostly left to his own devices by his father and brothers.

“Luckily, I guess," he says, "things turned out the way they did. I don't know that my dad would’ve known what to do with a daughter, anyway.” Dennis snorts, then realizes what he’s said. “Oh, that's not, uh, not why I transitioned. Of course.” He offers Abbot a small smile.

“Transitioned,” Abbot repeats faintly.

“Yeah...” Dennis breaks off then. “Oh! Oh, I thought you knew I was – ”

“No, I didn’t,”  Abbot says.

He seems... flustered, in a way Dennis has never seen him act before. It is unfortunately extremely endearing, the way his face is pinkening and he's alternating between looking hard at Dennis's face, and anywhere else.

“Sorry,” Dennis says. “I just, I thought you knew, or that Robby would have told you.”

“Uh, no. He didn’t. He wouldn't have.”

For some reason, Dennis feels bad. “Sorry. For just, you know, springing it on you.”

To Dennis’s surprise, Abbot reaches across the table, but he stops right before touching Dennis’s arm. “Kid, trust me, you have nothing to apologize for.”

Abbot pulls his arm back and the conversation moves on. They find similar interests in music (80s classic rock), movies (speculative fiction and horror), and of course, they end up talking shop, too. They keep talking through the rest of the food, then through Casey coming back to clear away their plates and refill their coffee.

As he settles back into the booth, Dennis thinks he must just be tired. Maybe the earlier spike in adrenaline from unexpectedly coming out to Abbot, combined with delirium from the lack of sleep, is making him think about the way that the sunlight streaming through the window is catching the silvery stubble on Abbot’s cheeks. Or how his hair always manages to look adorable, even after he’s been running his hands through his curls. Dennis wonders for a second what those curls would feel like in his own hands…

“I think we need to get you to bed, kid.”

Abbot’s gruff voice interrupts Dennis’s thoughts and he almost chokes at the way he immediately takes it wrong, thinking about what Abbot might look like under those scrubs. And then he feels so guilty. Abbot’s just trying to do something nice for him, and he’s acting like a fucking pervert.

They stand and Abbot throws a couple large bills on the table, waving toward the back of the restaurant. Casey waves back, and they head outside.

“You ok to get home, or do you want me to – ”

“I’m fine!” Dennis says quickly, wincing a little at how squeaky his voice sounds.

He needs to get home – alone – and take a cold shower, then get to bed, preferably without any more thoughts of how many freckles may or may not be hiding under Abbot’s clothes. Dennis sighs to himself. He’d been able to get over his initial attraction to Abbot before.

He can do it again.

Dennis acquiesces to Abbot hailing a cab for him, protesting at but accepting the cash Abbot presses on him for the fare. As he’s falling into bed later, he lets himself smile and feel the weight of how nice it was to spend time with Abbot outside of work, before chastising himself for even thinking about the possibility of getting involved with another of his problematically older bosses.

***

It’s not that the shared meal at the diner removes the professional lines from their relationship, but Dennis notices that Abbot seems a little freer with his emotions around Dennis afterward, both positive and negative. Abbot seems quicker to joke and tease, but also more willing to add a bit of an edge to his voice when he’s correcting Dennis on something.

It’s almost… reassuring, in a way. Dennis feels like they have more of an understanding between them, that Abbot trusts him to take his feedback the way it’s intended. In turn, Dennis trusts that Abbot will be honest and not try to protect his feelings. Abbot lets him try new things and stretch himself, and Dennis knows that Abbot will be behind him, backing him up.

Hilaire and Aviles wheel in the latest trauma patient, a 17-year-old boy whose friends had panicked when he’d started having trouble breathing. The group of teenage boys had been vaping in the park when the EMTs had arrived.

“The albuterol didn’t do much besides decrease the initial wheezing, but the CPAP is helping,” Hilaire says as he helps transfer the patient onto the trauma bay gurney. “Equal breath sounds, but the lungs sound awful,” he adds.

Once on the hospital gurney, the patient’s troubled breathing gets worse. Najeeb, running point under Shen’s wing with Ellis off tonight, increases the angle at the head of the gurney to help.

Dennis starts assessing his airway. “I think we need to intubate,” he tells Najeeb. If the boy can’t lay flat, he won’t be able to get scans and his treatment options will be limited.

Najeeb nods and asks Bridget for propofol and roc to sedate the patient so he can insert the endotracheal tube. After it’s in, Dennis listens to the patient’s lungs, verifying the crackles.

Abbot comes up next to him. “What are you thinking?”

Najeeb is running differentials with Shen on the other side of the gurney, so Dennis keeps his voice low. “He’s white, so it’s really unlikely to be acute chest syndrome. Could be cardiac arrhythmia or ischemia, though he’s young for ischemia. Pneumothorax or pneumonia. Pericarditis with effusion. I mean, it could be a lot of things, Abbot.”

Abbot nods. “Could be. What do you think it is?”

Dennis looks at the patient, who seems a lot younger with the tube in his throat, the monitor wires coming off his chest. He thinks about what he’d been doing when the EMTs found him.

“He was vaping, maybe habitually. Could be a pulmonary injury related to that.”

Abbot nods again, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “How would we know?”

“We need to see his lungs. He needs a CT. That’ll rule out a lot of the other potential diagnoses, too.”

Abbot’s smile widens a little and he looks over to Najeeb and Shen, who appear to be wrapping up their own conversation.

“We need to get him upstairs for a CT,” Najeeb says.

Abbot smiles at him, too, nodding to Shen, who uses the wall phone to call up to Interventional Radiology.

Twenty minutes later, the patient’s out of IR and the four of them are looking at his CT results. No clots, no effusion, pulmonary vasculature looks fine. But the CT shows the pulmonary injury to both sides, clear as day. Dennis feels a flicker of pride at his accurate diagnosis, as well as one of sympathy for the patient. He’ll likely be in the ICU for a few days, once they get him a bed.

“Excellent work, Najeeb. Good handling of the airway distress. Shen, great mentoring. Whitaker…”

Their eyes meet and Dennis’s breath catches for just a second.

“Keep working on those differentials. You’re getting sharper each time,” Abbot says, looking away.

Dennis pretends he can’t see the way Abbot’s cheeks have gone a little pink.

***

When Dennis opens his eyes, he’s in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. It’s comfortable, wherever he is, the sheets silky against his skin, the mattress just the right amount of firm. As he looks around, he takes in the décor. There’s a dark wood dresser on one wall, a window on another, a desk on the wall opposite the bed. There are two pieces of abstract art hung next to… amateur paintings of cats? Dennis gets out of bed to get a closer look.

They are, indeed, paintings of cats. Dennis puzzles over them as he spins to face the bed. He’s not wearing his own clothes, doesn’t even see them tossed on the bed or over the desk chair. His head is throbbing a little and now flashes of the night before start asserting themselves.

He remembers why he’s standing in the middle of Abbot’s guest room.

He’d gone out to blow off some steam with Trinity on a rare night they had both been free. They’d ended up at a bar that he’d forgotten Robby frequents. And Robby had been there, of course. In no time at all, Robby had appeared at his side, buying him a drink, asking him how things were going on the night shift. Dennis hadn’t planned it, but he’d been buzzed enough – and, honestly, lonely enough – to be seduced by Robby’s charm, his compliments, the way his fingers had skated along Dennis's arm.

It had gone so predictably: following Robby into a cab, ending up at his apartment, getting fucked over the back of his couch. After Robby had pulled out and taken care of the condom Dennis had made him wear, he’d offered for Dennis to stay the night, but Dennis had come to his senses by then. He’d felt even more vindicated by the rapid-fire text notifications Robby had gotten, signaling that Dennis was, once again, just something on the side for Robby to play with.

He’d stumbled out into the night, not realizing the weather had shifted, the rain coming down in sheets. He’d walked in the direction of the hospital, just a few short minutes away. And there, coming off his swing shift, had been Abbot.

Dennis doesn’t remember too much after that, just Abbot offering to help him get out of the rain and then offering him a place to stay when Dennis had seen the text from Trinity that she and Garcia wanted some alone time at the apartment. His stomach turns now, from the hangover as much as the regret that’s coursing through his veins.

What had he done?

How could he have gone back to Robby, knowing what the man is like, knowing how awful he would feel later? Dennis feels stupid and young and hopeless. He wishes he could go back in time and avoid Robby at the bar, or even farther, avoid getting involved with Robby at all.

He looks up in the direction of the bedroom door when he hears glass clinking outside. It’s sometime in the morning; there’s no clock in the guest room, so Dennis isn’t quite sure what time it is. He gently opens the door and is immediately greeted by a black cat, one of the cats whose portrait is hanging on the wall. Dennis carefully steps around the small body and heads in the direction of the noise.

Abbot’s in the kitchen, standing next to the counter, balanced on crutches, talking to someone.

“Because I said so, that’s why. Now quit being an asshole or you’re going to wake up Dennis.”

Dennis can’t see anyone in the kitchen, so he has no idea who Abbot’s talking to. It’s the first time he’s heard Abbot use his first name, too, which feels… good, actually. He decides he likes the way Abbot says it, his voice a little gravelly on the second syllable.

“Oh, hey, kid, didn’t realize you were up,” Abbot says.

Dennis comes around the counter into the kitchen and sees, perched on a stool near Abbot, a tabby cat, now looking over at Dennis. He recognizes the cat from the second portrait in the guest room.

Abbot nods to the cat on the stool. “This is Nutella. He’s an asshole. The other one’s Shadow. You’ve probably already seen her.”

Dennis nods, “Yeah, she was waiting for me when I opened the bedroom door.”

So, Abbot has cats. Cats he talks to and cats whose portraits he paints to hang on his wall. This version of the man is a little hard for Dennis to take in. He’s standing in his kitchen, his prosthesis off and crutches under his arms, preparing breakfast. He’s wearing a soft-looking threadbare t-shirt that says “Army” on it, and black sweatpants. His hair is mussed from sleep.

“There’s coffee.” Abbot points to the counter where the coffee maker sits. “Oh, and…”

He crutches over to the fridge, opens it, and pulls out a bottle. A bottle of chocolate creamer. Dennis looks at the creamer in his hand, then back up to Abbot’s face, then down again to the creamer. Understanding hits him like a lightning bolt, and if the look on Abbot’s face is any indication, he’s just realized the conclusion Dennis has arrived at. He sets the bottle on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Abbot clears his throat. “Don’t think too much about it,” he grumbles, returning to stir the eggs on the stove.

Dennis pours some creamer into the coffee mug. “But you did it weeks ago.”

Abbot shrugs. “Staff morale is important in the workplace.”

“Abbot,” Dennis says, and waits until the other man turns to look at him before continuing. “Thank you.”

He nods at Dennis, his cheeks pink, then turns back to the food prep. Soon, they’re sitting at the dining room table with eggs, toast, and some sausage. The eggs are a little saltier than Dennis usually makes, but the gesture more than makes up for it.

“You want to talk about it, kid, or pretend it didn’t happen?”

Dennis sighs. “I just… I feel so stupid. I knew better. And I still went home with him.” Dennis doesn’t say Robby’s name, and Abbot never has, but he thinks Abbot must understand who it is.

Abbot hums around a bite of toast. “I had an ex I kept going back to, when I was in the Army. We were both so deep in the closet, but I was more willing to consider opening the door, you know? At least once we were discharged. Poor Chase, not him. Convinced he was going to cure himself by finding a nice woman to settle down with.” Abbot shakes his head and takes another bite of eggs, like he hasn’t just upended everything.

Dennis feels like the bottom has just dropped out from under his chair. Abbot is… bi? Or at least, he’s dated men before. Dennis wonders how much he can take in one day. He never would have taken Abbot as anything but straight, particularly since the man seems to carry such a torch for his late wife.

“Sorry, I kind of threw that out there like a live grenade,” Abbot says, sending Dennis a small smile. “I’ve been working on how to fit that naturally into a conversation, but hadn’t really figured it out yet. Obviously.”

Dennis snorts. “I’ll just take it as a sort of payback for coming out to you in a diner.”

Abbot’s smile grows and he gets to his foot to start clearing away the dishes. Dennis stands, too, attempting to help, but Abbot shoos him away.

“I’m the host, it’s my job,” he says.

Dennis ends up watching him, impressed, as he manages to do everything one-handed, using the other for his crutch. Once Abbot’s gotten the dishes into the dishwasher and the counters wiped down again, they face each other. Dennis wonders if this is his cue to leave.

“Why don’t you hang out for a bit?”

The offer sounds casual, but a calculated type of casual. Dennis is struck by the sense that Abbot’s trying hard to appear as though the question doesn’t mean something to him, though it clearly does. And it does to Dennis, who’s not used to people actively wanting him around, besides Trinity, who doesn't really count.

So they wind up in the living room, having a horror movie marathon, cuddled up on opposite ends of the couch, snuggled under blankets. They debate the social commentary of body horror, the gender politics of the final girl. Eventually, they’re just talking, the last movie’s credits having long ended.

“…yeah, it’s funny the ways one single choice can change the rest of your life. If I hadn’t met Liz, I wouldn’t have come to Pittsburgh. She’s from here and her family's still in the area, so when PTMC had an attending position open, I applied. And here I am.”

Dennis looks over at Abbot on the other side of the couch. He thinks about the choices he’s made in his life that have changed its trajectory.

“My undergrad degree’s in theology.”

“I would not have expected that,” Abbot says, his eyes on Dennis’s face.

Dennis shrugs. “My dad was already wary about me going off to school. None of my brothers or their wives had gone, you know? I think since I left, my second oldest brother did some online business courses, but they don’t generally appreciate higher education. Anyway, I settled on theology, thinking it would, I don’t know, assuage their fears.”

“Went well, I take it.”

Dennis snorts, stretching out to nudge Abbot’s leg with his foot. “I was going through it, too. Already knew I was trans, but trying to not be gay, if that makes sense. At least do something they could talk about in town, maybe brag about me once in a while.”

Abbot’s quiet, but Dennis can feel his eyes on him. He wiggles a little in his seat on the couch, uncomfortable with the attention. “Well, maybe someday.”

After a few silent beats, Abbot speaks again. “Hey, Dennis. Look at me.”

Dennis looks up, a little surprised that Abbot’s used his first name.

“You deserve so much more than that.” Abbot’s leaning toward him on the couch, his face serious. “You deserve to be with someone who treats you well, who’s proud of you, who can’t stop talking about you and how amazing you are.”

Dennis looks away, the intensity of Abbot’s gaze too much to handle. He thinks about Abbot’s wife, imagining them out at a farmers’ market or walking down the street on a date, hand in hand. They’d probably looked at each other adoringly. She’d probably been gorgeous, to land someone like Abbot. A public defender with a close family, practically hand-crafted for someone as good as Abbot.

As he continues along this train of thought, Dennis is startled to realize that he’s feeling a little bit of envy, which is wild. There’s nothing romantic or sexual between them. Of course. They might be more than just coworkers, maybe even on their way to being friends, but that’s it.

Abbot doesn’t continue the line of conversation, letting it fade away as he cues up another movie. When Dennis wakes with a start a few hours later, he’s surprised that he’d dozed off. He’s now stretched out on the couch, his body parallel to Abbot’s, whose foot is somehow tucked under Dennis’s ribs. Shadow is spread out along both of them, fast asleep. Abbot’s face is smashed into a throw pillow and Dennis can hear gentle snores from his end of the couch.

Checking the clock on the wall, Dennis sees that they’ve got about an hour before they’d need to leave for work. He can’t believe he’d just spent the day with Abbot. And it had been so easy, no pressure to present himself as sexy or put together. The only other real friend Dennis has right now is Trinity. It feels nice to be able to just be with someone else.

A loud meow interrupts Dennis’s thoughts. Nutella has come over and started to yell right in Abbot’s face.

Dennis tries in vain to get him to shut up. “Hey, Nutella, cut it out, man. Let him sleep.”

Abbot mumbles something, then rubs his face with one hand. “You’re such an asshole, Nuts.”

He opens one eye, seeming to freeze when he spots Dennis. Then he gives a soft groan and closes his eye.

“Must be getting close to feeding time, if this dude’s ramping up.”

“Yeah, we’ve got an hour or so until we need to head out.”

Abbot grunts, rubbing his face back into the pillow. Dennis smiles. He’s never considered that Abbot might not be a morning person. Or well, might not be someone who wakes up well. Dennis had assumed it’d be like flipping a switch to “awake,” with his time in the military.

He can’t resist needling Abbot about it. “You’re grumpy when you wake up, aren’t you?”

“Leave me alone, kid, I still know all my super secret Army moves.”

“Bet I can outrun you, though.”

At that, Abbot opens both his eyes and blinks at Dennis. “Did you just make fun of me for having one leg?”

Dennis presses his lips together to keep himself from smiling. “….no.”

Abbot narrows his eyes. “I’ll remember this, kid. When you least expect it, that’s when it’ll happen.”

Dennis’s mouth strains with the effort not to smile. Abbot looks so indignant and offended, but Dennis can see a glint in his eye, knows that he’s teasing. Well, teasing about being offended. Dennis is pretty sure he’s going to get his ass handed to him at some point.

“C’mon,” Abbot says, heaving himself upright. “Let’s feed these monsters and get ready for work.”

As Abbot makes his way toward the kitchen, Dennis finally allows himself to smile. The expression stays on his face for most of the night.

Chapter Text

Trinity sighs dramatically. “Are you sure you want to stay on the night shift? Day shift is way cooler.”

“Yes, Trinity, I’m sure. I really like it, even though it’s fucked up my circadian rhythm.”

Dennis adjusts his position so that a branch covers the sun in the sky overhead. Trinity takes a sip from her water bottle, which definitely doesn’t have a mixed drink in it, since they’re in a public park.

“Besides, it’s not like I never see you.”

“Handoffs don’t count, Huckleberry.”

Dennis rolls over onto his stomach to look at Trinity, who’s reclining against the trunk of the tree, reading a book.

“How are things going with Garcia?”

Trinity pretends not to hear the question, making a big show of turning the page of her book. But then she gives in, letting the open book fall onto her chest to mark her spot, and pushing her sunglasses up onto her head so she can see Dennis more clearly.

“They’re fine. It’s just… sometimes she’s hot and cold on me, and I don’t know what she wants.”

Dennis makes a sympathetic noise, propping his cheek up on his hand and running his fingers through the grass next to the blanket he’s spread out on.

“I wish I had some deep insightful advice to bestow, but I’m obviously a shit judge of character and hopeless at relationships.”

“To be fair, Huck, I think you were the only one who thought it was a relationship.”

Dennis winces. “Ouch.”

She shrugs. “I’m not saying that it’s your fault. Who hasn't been stupid when it comes to getting their dick wet? And I’m not expecting Yolanda to be, like, the woman of my dreams or anything.” She sighs and flips her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Just wish she’d make up her fucking mind about what she wants.”

Dennis opens his mouth to respond when his phone buzzes.

“Back on Grindr?” Trinity asks idly as she picks up her book again.

Abbot 😸 [13:45] {picture of Nutella in mid-meow}

Abbot 😸 [13:45] this asshole says hi

Dennis chuckles, thumbing out a response.

Dennis [13:46] don’t be jealous if he likes me more than you

Abbot 😸 [13:47] ok, now you’re both assholes.

“It’s just Abbot,” Dennis says, tossing his phone back onto the blanket.

“Oh?” Dennis can see her eyebrows peeking above her glasses. “What’s going on there?”

“Well, nothing like what you’re thinking,” Dennis says, flopping onto his back again. “I think we’re friends now. It’s nice, actually. Having more than one friend.”

“Awww, little Huck, growing up and getting Man Friends. So proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Dennis mutters. But he takes a quick glance at his phone, in case he’s missed another text.

***

“I think it would have worked better without needing to be a direct sequel.”

“But it’s called Carrie 2.”

“Right,” Dennis says, “but they rewrote it to be a sequel. The earlier drafts didn’t have a connection to Carrie. I think it would have been better as a straight horror revenge.”

Abbot scratches his cheek and yawns. “So, does this mean it’s in or out of the Stephen King marathon?”

Dennis squints as he considers, propping his chin in his hand against the central hub counter. “I’ll allow it, since we’re doing the Chloe Grace Moretz remake.” He leans down to scratch his leg.

Abbot hums. “That makes – oh, hi, Robby.”

Dennis quickly stands up straight, his heart beating fast. Even almost two months later, he’s still hypervigilant around Robby whenever they’re doing handoffs. He doesn’t want to give anything away, not to Robby, not to anyone else who might be watching. He’s a professional, damn it, and that’s all anyone is going to see.

“Night must have been slow if you two are arguing about movies,” Robby says, taking a sip of coffee from his travel mug.

Abbot shrugs. “We had enough to do.” His tone is careful, and Dennis can tell there’s still a distance between them. “You’re here early.”

Now Robby shrugs. “Woke up early.”

Lena’s phone rings. “PTMC charge nurse. Yep, yep, thanks.” She hangs up then turns to the three men. “Well, Robby, looks like your fun starts early. Incoming trauma, eight minutes out. We’ve got a 56-year-old woman with extreme chest pain, history of asthma and smoking with an aspirin allergy.”

Dennis and Abbot push off the counter, as though they’re in sync. After weeks of working together, it’s almost become second nature to gently tug the strings of the trauma gown around Abbot’s waist and tie them off, then hold himself still as Abbot does the same for him.

Gallagher and Paris bring in the patient, Wendy Morris, who’s clutching at the center of her chest and wincing in pain. Paris hands the pre-hospital ECG printout to Abbot as Gallagher helps with the transfer to the hospital gurney. Dennis comes over to peer at the waves over Abbot’s shoulder, humming when he sees the telltale signs of a STEMI.

Robby calls up to the cath lab so they can prep for Wendy’s arrival and Abbot calls out to Allie to start fentanyl for the pain, along with some anti-nausea medicine for the patient’s upset stomach. In his hurry to attach leads to the patient’s chest, Dennis fumbles a little, then takes a breath to calm himself.

He hears Abbot’s voice, soft, right in his ear. “Remember, kid, slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

He takes another breath and continues, his hands steadier this time around. Dennis looks up to see Robby’s eyes on him, confusion showing on his face as his eyes bounce between Dennis and Abbot next to him. Dennis doesn’t have time to analyze it, though, focusing on getting a new ECG, which confirms the STEMI.

They work quickly to get the femoral arterial access going and before Dennis knows it, the patient is being taken up to the cath lab. Dennis feels a warm sense of satisfaction. The prognosis is good, their door to balloon time should be under the Pitt’s average, and he knows that even with the stumble, he’d done better on this one than he had the last time.

“Improving each time, Whitaker,” Abbot says, pulling his gloves off.

“Thanks, boss,” Dennis replies, letting his mouth stretch into a little smile at the praise.

Robby clears his throat as they leave the trauma bay. “Yes, you’re, uh, you’re really coming along, Whitaker.”

Dennis nods in acknowledgement, but doesn’t respond. He does find it curious that where once he would have hoarded any kind of praise or approval from Robby to relive later, the words now don’t seem to hold as much power. Maybe it’s because he recognizes that Robby’s observing what’s true. Dennis has come a long way, certainly from his first rotation, but also just from the beginning of his internship.

“When do you think you’ll come back to days?” Robby asks, rubbing sanitizer into his hands.

Dennis catches himself before he gets caught up watching Robby’s thick fingers sliding over each other. He shrugs. “I think I’ve still got a lot to learn on the night shift.”

Robby doesn’t say anything to that, just moves back over to the central hub and signs into his usual computer terminal. Abbot stops next to Dennis, arms folded across his chest.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I’d support whatever schedule you want. If you want to go back to days – ”

“I don’t,” Dennis breaks in.

He looks up at Abbot, whose dark hazel eyes are already fixed on his face. “I like working nights. With you.”

Abbot grunts, his lips curving into a small lop-sided smile. “Me, too, kid.”

Pierce calls him over to South 20 then, and Dennis heads up to get some charting done before the end of the shift. If he feels Robby’s eyes on him, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

***

Abbot 😸 [16:09] how hot can you take it

Dennis stares at his phone, his brow wrinkled, trying and failing to figure out what the hell Abbot is talking about. All that comes up for him is the image of Abbot, shirtless, at the end of their shift a few days ago. The A/C on the floor had gone down, to everyone’s horror and frustration. Even on the overnight, the air in the ED had been stifling. Dennis had sweat through his undershirt quickly and had been miserable the whole time.

As soon as they’d clocked out and walked into the gentle breeze of the morning, Abbot had whipped off his shirt, like it was nothing. Dennis had had to look away, after taking in the wide expanse of freckled skin on Abbot’s back, his arms.

Dennis has seen his fair share of attractive men in his life, sure. But there had been something different about Abbot’s unconcerned, unself-conscious movements, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with his t-shirt. Dennis had unfortunately been close enough to smell his sweat and natural scent, which he hasn’t been able to forget, and the less said about the man’s tits, the better, at least for Dennis’s sanity.

Abbot 😸[16:10] don’t want to make the curry too spicy for you

Oh… Oh, Abbot had just been asking about food.

Dennis slaps his hand across his face and groans out loud before tossing his phone onto his bed. He’s fine, this is fine. He’s just… He’s just horny. That’s pretty par for the course, but without any kind of outlet recently besides his hand and toy collection, he must just be getting a little desperate.

And poor Abbot, the hottest man within reach, is bearing the brunt of Dennis’s horny fantasies. Not that Dennis is fantasizing about his boss.

Like, sure, Dennis has seen the man’s thighs. And he’s occasionally, in a purely clinical way, wondered how strong they are and how that might figure into how fast and deep he could thrust into someone. Like, against a wall, for example. Of a storeroom, maybe.

But it’s just idle curiosity, the type of thought you’d have unconsciously. Very similar to how Dennis has considered just how thick Abbot’s fingers are, and how dexterous they are with minute procedures, and how clever they’d feel against… Well.

He reaches down to pick up his phone again.

Dennis [16:12] please consider that I was born in Nebraska and have pity on me

Abbot 😸 [16:14] {picture of seasoned peppers and onions sautéing in a pan}

Abbot 😸 [16:14] open wide and get your tongue ready for this deliciousness

Dennis flops into his bed and groans again. Fuck his life.

***

A week later, Dennis knocks on the front door of Abbot’s house, looking over the railing of the porch, wondering whether Abbot does his own landscaping or if he hires someone else to do it. The door opens to show Abbot in his wheelchair, wearing an apron that says, Stop staring at my rack, with a drawing of barbequed ribs on it.

“C’mon in, kid,” Abbot says, pushing back to give Dennis room to walk inside.

“Hope you like spaghetti,” he says over his shoulder, heading back into the kitchen.

Dennis takes off his shoes and greets Shadow, then hangs his jacket up in the hall closet before following Abbot into the kitchen. A pot of water is just about ready to boil, and there’s sauce simmering on the stove.

Dennis nods to Abbot and his chair. “High pain day?”

Abbot shrugs one shoulder and wheels to the fridge to pull out a pitcher of water. “Just a little.”

Dennis snorts, easily translating that into a regular person pain scale. “Want me to massage your leg before we go in?” He picks up the box of pasta and dumps it into the boiling water.

Abbot sighs. “Fine,” he grinds out, as if it’s a hardship to let Dennis help him.

After they finish eating and clean up the dishes, Dennis follows Abbot into the living room and sits on the couch, waiting for Abbot to transfer over from his chair. When he gets situated, Dennis wastes no time grabbing his leg and bringing it up to rest on his thighs. He digs into the flesh of Abbot’s limb, remembering the places where he’s prone to get facial knots under the skin.

Abbot groans and Dennis looks up, hoping he’s not hurting the man.

“Is this ok, Abbot?”

Abbot huffs a low laugh. “Kid, if you’re going to be doing that, you could probably just call me Jack.”

Dennis looks down at Abbot’s – or, well, Jack’s – exposed limb, then back up to his face. He’s laying back against the arm of the couch now, his eyes closed. His hands are folded across his belly. Dennis has to quickly move on when he notices that his shirt has pulled up a few inches above his sweatpants, revealing a strip of pale, freckled skin with a dusting of auburn and gray hairs.

“Yeah, I guess I could do that, Jack.” Dennis smiles as he emphasizes the name.

“Just outside of work now, kid. In the ED, it’s still “your highness,” or “emperor.”

Dennis snorts. “You gonna use my first name, too?”

Jack shrugs. “Sure, why not? Dennis.”

Dennis had opened his mouth to say something snarky, but he ends up just swallowing a sound in the back of his throat. He’s forgotten what his name sounds like in Jack’s voice. Really, it’s not fair that everything the man does is so attractive.

He refocuses his attention on Jack’s residual limb, having him turn on his side so Dennis can get a better angle for the posterior muscles. In this position, Jack’s facing the back of the couch. The cushions mostly, but not entirely, muffle the sounds Jack’s making. Whatever Dennis is doing must be working, based on their tenor and frequency. After several minutes, Jack shifts again, signaling that he’s done.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, his voice a little raspy. He sits up and transfers back to his chair. “It feels a lot better. Think I’ll still bring my arm crutches, though, just in case.”

“Why Jack, you finally admitting you’re not Superman?” Dennis teases him because he knows Jack won’t appreciate any kind of earnest comment right now.

“Only if you admit that you’re Lois Lane,” Jack responds.

Dennis scoffs. “If I was anyone, I’d be Jimmy Olsen.”

“Sure, kid,” Jack says, heading down the hall toward his bedroom.

It’s not until several hours into their shift that Dennis remembers the Lois Lane comment and starts wondering what the hell Jack had meant by that.

***

“Trinity!” Dennis yells as he stoops down to pick up a pair of her shoes and toss them into the pile by the wall. “Don’t leave your shit out in the middle of the floor.”

She pokes her head out of her room. “What is your problem, man?”

“Abbot’s bringing sushi over, remember? I don’t want him to trip over your shoes.”

Trinity heaves a big sigh and dramatically rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She moves to stand in the middle of the doorway to her room, her hands pushing against the frame. “So, first time you’re having a Man Date over here, huh?”

“Gross, don’t call it that. And he’s bringing some for you, too.”

She opens her mouth to respond, probably something rude, when the door buzzer sounds. Dennis walks over and pushes the exterior entrance button. A couple minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and Dennis opens it. Jack is standing there with a grin on his face, holding way too much sushi.

“Jack, what the hell, it’s only the three of us.” Dennis steps aside to let Jack in.

“I figure this way, there’ll be leftovers for you two.”

Trinity walks out to greet Abbot. “Abbot! What, you buy out the restaurant?”

He shrugs, starting to unpack the three grocery bags. “I remember what residency was like. This shit’ll keep for at least another day or two.”

They spread it all out on the kitchen table and dig in. There isn’t much sound besides eating for the first several minutes. Eventually, their pace slows down. Jack starts telling stories from his own residency years.

“So you’ve always worked the night shift?” Trinity asks, stealing a piece of Dennis’s Philadelphia roll.

“Yeah,” Jack says, leaning back in the chair. “At first it was because I wasn’t very good at people.” He shrugs again. “You know, I was angry, I was kind of an asshole. Luckily, marriage and therapy worked that out of me.” Dennis snorts and Jack punches his arm. “But I like the night, like being there to help people in the dark.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dennis sees Trinity’s eyes widen and flicker between him and Abbot. “Marriage? Tell me more about that. Because I didn’t think you were, now.”

“Trinity!” Dennis hisses at her.

But Jack just smiles at her. “Nah, I’m not now. My wife died.”

“Oh! Oh, shit, Abbot, I’m sorry, I – ”

Jack waves his hand. “It’s ok, Santos, don’t worry about it. It’s been a few years. Liz. She was an amazing woman, and I was just happy to be part of her life while I could.”

Trinity doesn’t get too emotional; she likes to keep her sentimentality close to the vest. But Dennis can see the look in her eyes soften as her picture of Jack shifts to accommodate this information.

“C’mon, I’ll help clean up,” Jack says, his expression reassuring enough that Trinity nods back at him. 

They stand and start clearing away the dishes. Dennis puts up the leftovers in the fridge. Jack opens the dishwasher, but Trinity stops him.

“Oh, no, that doesn’t work. We have to wash them by hand.”

Jack looks at her with an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean, it doesn’t work?”

Trinity shrugs. “I dunno, just doesn’t.”

“I think it’s something to do with the water hookup?” Dennis offers. “But I’m not sure, either.”

“Kids,” Jack mutters. “Let me take a look at it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” Dennis says, stepping over like he’s going to throw himself in the way of the dishwasher or something. The idea of Jack fixing their dishwasher is both ridiculous and embarrassing. Definitely not hot, though.

Jack’s already crouching down to look in the cabinet under the sink. “You got a flashlight around here?”

And so that’s how Dennis and Trinity wind up sitting on the couch while Jack fixes the dishwasher. And then the toilet in Dennis’s bathroom that runs sometimes. And the squeaky window in Trinity’s room. And the burnt-out lightbulb in the hall closet neither of them is tall enough to reach.

That’s the point where Dennis finally draws the line. “He’s not our fucking servant, Trinity,” Dennis calls to her on the couch when she wonders aloud if he’d want to check the lint trap behind the dryer.

Jack tosses the old lightbulb in the trash and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “I don’t mind, kid,” he says softly, just the two of them in the room. “I like to help out.”

Dennis wipes a hand down his face. “I know you do, Jack, and I really, really appreciate it. But I don’t want to take advantage of – ”

“You’re not. I want to help. Let me?”

The expression on Jack’s face is open, friendly, but when Dennis’s eyes rise to meet Jack’s, the look in them is something different. Warmer, but darker. It’s hard to read, but for a second, Dennis feels a spike of heat bloom in his chest. He looks away and clears his throat.

“All right,” he answers softly.

Trinity comes into the kitchen to refill her water bottle then, and Dennis shuffles away.

“Thanks again, Abbot. Next time you come over, I promise I’ll make mechado. I have my grandmother’s recipe.”

Jack smiles at her and nods. “I’ll hold you to that. Ok, I’ll get out of your hair. I’m going in on the swing tonight.” He heads to the door, Dennis following.

“I thought you were off tonight.”

Jack shrugs. “Eh, Shen asked if I’d take his shift. He’ll catch one of mine later.”

“Jack. Isn’t this five on in a row?”

Jack waves his hand, like Dennis shouldn’t worry about it. Though, he does.

“See you later, kid. I’ll text you if anything really cool comes through tonight.”

Dennis smiles and waves in goodbye, closing the door after him. Trinity leans against the doorway to the kitchen, her eyebrow raised.

“Don’t start,” Dennis says, heading down the hall to his room.

“I didn’t say anything!” Trinity calls after him.

***

Jack 😸 [22:13] what’s going on

Jack 😸 [22:13] anything exciting

Dennis [22:17] it’s your night off. shouldn’t you be doing literally anything else?

Dennis shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket, walking into North 5.

“Mrs. Balducci, back with us again?”

She’s lying on the bed with an oxygen mask on, her eyes following Dennis’s movements as he checks her chart on the computer terminal.

“My daughter’s just overreacting. Just had a little trouble breathing, that’s all. Nothing new.”

Her voice is even scratchier than the last time Dennis had seen her and her vitals are a little weaker.

“How much exercise have you been getting, Mrs. Balducci?”

She waves her hand back and forth. “I get around. Walk down the street to the senior center. Do a little gardening.”

“And how’s your breathing during that?”

She’s silent for a minute. “Could be better.”

Dennis scoots over to her on the stool and rests his hand over hers on the hospital bed.

“You need to quit smoking, Mrs. Balducci. It’s shortening your life, almost in real time.”

She slides her hand from under Dennis’s and pats her frail palm against his hand. “Listen to me, young man. When you’ve lived as long as I have, and you lose the best reason you have to get up out of bed, not much point to it all, you know?”

Dennis sighs. “What about your children? Grandchildren?”

Mrs. Balducci gives him a watery smile and coughs. “I do love them all, God bless ‘em. Even Terry, the fuck-up. But I’m just bidin’ my time, until the Lord calls me home. And I can be with my Mort again.”

Dennis sighs again. “Well, I’m going to order a chest x-ray and see if there’s been a change in your lungs.”

“I’ve been through this dance before, young man. I know the steps.” She smiles softly, and leans back against the bed, closing her eyes.

Dennis stops by the central hub when she’s gone up to get the x-ray. Pierce walks behind him and pats his back on their way past. He offers them a smile of commiseration. They both know it’s just a matter of time. One day, it’ll be the last time Mrs. Balducci comes in, and they won’t realize it until weeks later.

Dennis’s phone buzzes in his pocket again.

Jack 😸 [22:37] would you want leftover lasagna?

Dennis is caught between fondness and exasperation. Truly, the man cannot be left alone for a minute. Dennis strides into the breakroom. He has time for a quick rest.

Jack answers the phone right away. “So, yes to lasagna?”

“Don’t you have any hobbies?”

In the background, Dennis can hear the sounds of Jack rummaging around in the kitchen, along with meows that must be Nutella.

“Can I say cooking?”

Dennis sighs.

“What’s wrong, kid?” 

The tone of his voice is knowing and comforting at the same time. Dennis lets his eyes close, imagining that Jack’s sitting across from him, instead of miles away at home.

“Mrs. Balducci came in.”

Jack hums. “Probably getting close.”

“She wouldn’t be if she’d fucking quit smoking,” Dennis says fiercely, but quietly.

“Trust me, she knows that. But she’s Catholic, so it’s probably all she can do to hasten her departure.”

“I just don’t understand why she’d give up like that.”

There’s a couple beats of silence before Jack responds. “Waking up every day after losing someone you love more than your own life… it’s a special kind of hell, kid.”

Dennis freezes, not sure what to say. Obviously, Jack would know about that. He’s experienced it himself.

But Dennis isn’t willing to just let it go. “So you’re telling me that there’s nothing to live for, after a loss like that.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, kid. Everyone’s experience is different. Sometimes an out is the easiest, kindest thing. But sometimes… if you’re lucky, sometimes you do find something, someone to live for again.”

Dennis wonders what kind of person would get Jack out of bed again. Since finding out that Jack isn’t straight, Dennis’s thoughts have gone down some incredibly unhelpful paths, picturing a future, years down the road, for the two of them, together.

But that’s almost as likely as him winning the lottery, which is to say, impossible. He sighs to himself.

“Yeah, well… lasagna sounds good.”

“Great. Come over after your shift. You can sleep it off and eat some when you wake up.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

There’s a sound on the other end of the line like Jack’s about to say something, but then all he says is, “Anytime, kid,” before they end the call.

***

“Oh, look, kid, a honey stand. We should check and see if they have any of that flavored kind Santos likes in her tea.”

Dennis can’t keep the smile off his face as Jack’s hand skims down his back. He supposes it must just be another sign of their growing friendship. With them spending more and more time together over the last several weeks, it had been inevitable that one of them would cross the touch barrier. It had been Dennis, the week before, with a couple of gentle touches to maneuver around Jack in the kitchen.

It’s almost as though Dennis’s initial brushes against Jack’s side to avoid bumping him on his crutches had opened some kind of floodgate. While he doesn’t touch Dennis at work, as soon as they’re off the clock, Jack doesn’t hold back from putting his hands on Dennis.

When Dennis thinks of Robby’s hand falling heavy on his shoulder, his neck, his back, squeezing him almost proprietarily, he can’t believe he’d ever craved those touches. Jack’s are so different: light, barely detectable sometimes, like they’re moreso to reassure Jack that Dennis is still there, almost like the man is doing it unconsciously.

They’re not romantic or anything, of course. Dennis is mature enough to know that Jack’s just being friendly, regardless of the looks Trinity sends him behind Jack’s back when the three of them are together, when Jack’s tapping his leg to get Dennis’s attention, or rubbing the tension out of his traps.

Dennis walks over to join Jack at the honey stall. Jack had wanted to visit the farmers’ market before it closes for the season to get some fresh produce, and Dennis had decided to join him before their shift. The sun is starting to sink in the sky as the afternoon wears on, a light breeze on the chilly air. Dennis is glad of the jacket he'd thrown over his sweatshirt as he watches Jack is peruse an impressive stock of flavored honeys.

“Santos likes the lavender, right?” Jack picks up two jars of the stuff.

“Jack,” Dennis sighs. “You don’t have to buy Trinity honey.”

Jack shrugs. “Eh, I’m here, might as well.” He pays for the honey and puts them into the reusable bag he’d brought.

They continue walking through the food stalls, stopping to check out baked goods, meats, cheeses. Finally, they get to the produce, and their pace slows, as they each check out the vegetables. Dennis can’t help but feel a little homesick, seeing the family farm stalls run by multiple generations.

“Wanna help me pick out some corn, kid?”

Dennis shivers as Jack’s lips graze the outside of his ear. When he turns to look at Jack, the man’s already heading toward another stand boasting several types of corn. Dennis shakes his head and follows Jack, looking over the display with a discerning eye. He points out a couple ears that look good.

The older woman who rings up their purchase smiles at them. “Spending the day with your daddy?”

“Oh god,” Dennis whines under his breath. He does not need to have that word associated with Jack in his brain.

But Jack just smiles back, an edge to his expression as he cuts his eyes over to Dennis first, then back to the woman. “Beautiful day for it, isn’t it?”

“Sure is! Here you go, sir. Make sure he behaves!”

Jack waves at her as Dennis speed-walks away. Jack’s laughing in loud guffaws by the time he catches up to Dennis, whose face must be as red as a tomato.

Jack slaps his back as they head out to the parking lot. “You need to lighten up a little, kid.”

“Yeah, but she thought – ”

“Eh,” Jack waves his hand dismissively. “People are gonna think what they want to, about us, about whatever. Let them, I say.”

He casually drapes an arm around Dennis’s shoulders, holding their haul in his other hand. Dennis sighs but relaxes a little under Jack’s grip, feeling the warmth of his body even through multiple layers. He wishes he could be as blasé about this kind of thing as Jack is. And sure, that woman would have no idea who they are, what their job is.

But the idea of him and Jack together has been growing steadily louder in the back of his mind. It’s a terrible idea, truly. Except… except that he kind of wishes he could find out. He wishes they’d met under different circumstances, without the baggage of Robby between them.

Jack knows all of it, or at least, his guesses are likely to be spot on. He knows how pathetic Dennis is, still. There’s no way he’d want Dennis as a partner, even as a casual one. And Jack doesn’t really seem the type to do casual hookups anyway.

“Let’s get this back to the house and into the fridge. You wanna take a nap at mine or get dropped off at the apartment?”

“I still have a set of scrubs at the house?”

Jack nods, steering them out of the parking lot.

“Let’s just go there, then. No sense in wasting the gas.”

Jack hums and turns the radio up a little over the heater. Dennis smiles and leans back against the seat, watching the familiar streets go by. In no time at all, they’re pulling into Jack’s driveway, walking through his garage. Dennis bends down to grab Shadow before she can dart underneath the car, stepping into Jack’s house.

Something settles in his chest as he feels Jack move behind him with a hand on his lower back, reaching up to give Shadow a scratch before he starts putting away the food he’d got. He sets the honey on the counter for Dennis to take back to the apartment later.

It’s all perfectly normal and sometimes, Dennis fools himself into thinking that this could be a kind of home for him. If things had been different. If he wasn’t fucked up.

If Jack could be even remotely interested in him.

Chapter Text

It’s a pretty regular Tuesday night shift, and then Lena gets Jack’s attention a little after 0100. “Hey, Abbot, we’ve got a bus coming in with a 15-year-old girl, severe abdominal pain. No word on parents or guardians. They’re about eight minutes out.”

Jack nods to her. Dennis is about to return to his computer terminal when Jack catches his eye.

“Get ready, Whitaker, you’re on this one, too.”

When the girl is wheeled in by Aviles and Hilaire a few minutes later, she’s pale and sweating, clutching her stomach.

“Her BP’s low and she’s tachy,” Aviles says. “We got a 50 of fent on board for pain, regular IV fluids. She was staying with her friend, who called it in, won’t say where her parents are or give us their number.”

“Thanks, Aviles,” Jack says, as they enter Trauma One.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack says to the girl. “I’m Dr. Abbot, this is Dr. Whitaker. That’s Nurse Allie and Nurse Darlene. We’re going to help you feel better tonight. Can you tell me your name?”

“Rachel. Rachel Delgado.”

“All right, Rachel. Sounds like you’ve got some pain in your belly?”

She nods, her eyes watery.

“Ok. Dr. Whitaker here is going to check your belly. He’s going to have to touch you. Is that ok?”

She nods again and Dennis starts the manual exam. When he starts palpating her right lower quadrant, she winces.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve felt this pain?” Dennis asks.

“Since yesterday. I tried Advil, but it didn’t really help.”

Jack takes over the questioning. “Do you remember doing anything that could have caused the pain? Did you run into anything, trip and fall, anything like that?”

Rachel shakes her head. Dennis watches as Jack asks more questions, gently probing to get more details. She hesitates when Jack asks if she’s sexually active before saying yes, then tells him she might have missed her last period. Dennis has a rising suspicion about what her diagnosis will be.

“Ok, Rachel. We’re going to need a urine sample. Do you think you could give us that?”

She sniffles. “I don’t know.”

Jack gives her a warm smile. “How about this. Dr. Whitaker and I are going to step outside and draw the curtain, and Nurse Allie and Nurse Darlene here will help you with that. Ok?”

She looks at him for a few seconds before giving him a small nod. Jack motions to Dennis and they stay out onto the ED floor.

“I’m thinking ectopic pregnancy,” Dennis murmurs to Jack, who nods.

“Yeah, that’s the likeliest to me right now. Maybe endo, but I’m not sure we’d be able to see that on scans. Shouldn’t rule it out yet, though.”

Allie taps on the glass and they reenter the trauma bay. Dennis does an eFAST and they can see some free fluid on the screen in her lower right quadrant. The pregnancy test comes back positive.

Jack’s face as he explains what’s happening to Rachel is soft and open. He uses uncomplicated words and his tone is calm. Rachel looks scared, but maybe due to Jack’s gentle manner, she’s not panicking.

“You sure we can’t call your parents, kiddo? You can consent to this surgery on your own, but maybe you want to let them know, just in case.”

She sniffles. “No, I don’t think they’d care anyway. We had a fight.”

Jack nods, taking her seriously. “Ok, well, if you change your mind at any time, we can reach out to them. But it’s up to you. You get to decide.”

She nods. Jory, one of the techs, appears with Walsh, who for once isn’t making cracks at Jack. Dennis’s mouth nearly drops open when Walsh smiles down at the patient and softly explains what’s going to happen as Jory begins to wheel her out.

“Kids are always the worst,” Jack mutters as he tosses his gloves into the bin.

“You were great with her,” Dennis says, a little in awe of him, as though he hasn’t seen Jack’s bedside manner on full display for months now.

Jack shrugs, but Dennis can see a gleam in his eye, like he’s preening a little under Dennis’s praise.

“It was a team effort,” is all Jack says, before gesturing to Dennis. “C’mon, the night is still young, more patients to see.”

The sun still hasn’t risen outside when Dennis steps into the ambulance drive to get a quick breath of fresh air close to the end of the shift. They’d already turned the clocks back weeks before, but it hadn’t made that much difference; it’s dark when his shift starts and still dark when it ends.

Dennis jumps a little when he hears a throat clear behind him. He hadn’t heard the automatic doors open or close. Pierce stands there, a careful smile on their face. They glance behind them before coming closer to Dennis.

“So,” they say, their tone casual, “you and the boss.”

“What? No!” Dennis exclaims automatically.

Pierce just keeps the careful smile on their face, watching Dennis’s expression. He can only imagine what he's giving away as he tries to school his face into something neutral, not at all defensive or sheepish.

“It’s not like that, Pierce. We’re just friends.”

They nod. “Ok. If you’re sure.” They shrug. “He cares a lot about you. I can tell that at least.”

Dennis squints at them in confusion. “Is this some sort of ‘they’ll never find the body’ talk?”

The smile goes wider. “That’s not my style,” they say, maybe with the implication that it’s someone else’s style. “Just wanted to... check. You know, if you need to talk about anything, Whitaker -”

"I'm good!" Dennis says quickly, probably too quickly.

He gives Pierce a smile, hoping that he seems normal, extremely normal, about everything. They hum and give him a nod. Then with one more glance over into Dennis’s eyes, they turn and head back into the ED, leaving Dennis wondering what the hell in his voice and expressions is making Pierce think that. It’s laughable, the idea of him and Jack. Truly, he could laugh. He really could.

Dennis feels something tighten in his stomach, maybe some kind of longing. There’s just no way that Jack would ever like him back. Even if he did like Jack, like that. No way.

***

For their next movie marathon, they decide on speculative sci-fi. Jack cues up Another Earth and Shadow settles onto the couch between them. They gradually shift around a little so that Jack's sprawled over the back corner on one side, his legs dangling off the cushions, while Dennis is curled up with his legs under him. Shadow stretches out on the arm of the couch next to Dennis's head as Jack starts Predestination.

When Dennis opens his eyes next, something unfamiliar is playing, the streaming platform having continued running movies. And while he’s still on the couch, somehow, he’s… laying on top of Jack.

How the fuck had that happened?

His head is jammed under Jack’s chin, his chest starting to slide off of Jack’s toward the back of the couch. At some point, Jack must have felt him slipping, because one thick arm is wrapped around Dennis’s back, and… Dennis closes his eyes again, finally noticing that Jack’s hand is clutching his ass.

This is the most action he’s had in weeks, since his ill-fated night with Robby, and he’d been asleep for most of it. Now that he’s awake, he can’t stay here. Dennis feels his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, even as he feels reluctant to pull himself away. But it’s bad enough he’d wantonly thrown himself at Jack while dreaming; he can’t keep practically molesting him now.

Even if the smell of the man’s cologne, mixed with his natural body scent, is tantalizing. Even if Dennis can feel the contours of Jack’s chest against his own. Even if he can feel the ridge of his… oh fuck. Dennis promptly falls off the couch onto the floor.

Jack’s awake in an instant, shocked into consciousness. He sits up fast, blinking. “What? What’s happening?" His eyes find Dennis on the floor and his face is full of confusion. “Kid, why are you on the floor?”

Dennis drags himself back onto the couch, slapping at Jack’s legs to get him to move them out of the way. “Because I woke up and startled myself. Somehow we were… that is, I was on top of… Anyway. Sorry for anything fresh I might’ve gotten up to while I was asleep.”

Dennis can hear Jack chuckling softly next to him. Jack grabs the remote and switches off the tv. It’s close to 0300. Now that Dennis is awake, he’s probably not going to be able to fall back asleep, with his body clock used to overnights.

“You’re fine, kid.”

“Ugh, no, I, ugh, I’m just pent up. It’s been a while since I, uh… Anyway. It’s not an excuse, but sorry.”

“You don’t have a right hand?”

Dennis freezes. Are they actually talking about this? Though the room is dark without the light of the tv, Dennis continues to stare straight ahead.

“Yeah, well, a hand, or, er, a toy, only gets you so far.”

Dennis is going to hell. What the fuck is he thinking? This is way beyond the boundaries of their friendship, to say nothing of their professional relationship. He needs to get out of Jack’s house. He should be put out of his misery.

“You know I’m always willing to help out, kid. Whatever you need.”

Jack had spoken so low, so soft, that Dennis isn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly. It had sounded like Jack offering to get Dennis off, but, well, that’s fucking bonkers. There’s no way Jack would do that. Right?

A sort of frantic laugh slips out of Dennis’s mouth. “Yeah, good one. Hey, you want some tea?”

He gets up and practically runs to the kitchen. Jack had to have been joking. There’s no other possible interpretation of that.

Dennis should really just get on the apps or something. Otherwise, he’s going to end up making bad decisions again, like how he’d let Robby fuck him before without a condom. Dennis at least had gotten clean test results after the last time they'd been together.

And he shouldn’t – he’s not going to – imagine what it would feel like to get fucked raw by Jack, even if he can imagine how big, how thick he’d be, fully hard.

“Fuuuuck,” Dennis mutters when he realizes that his underwear has become uncomfortably damp.

***

“You really don’t have to do this,” Dennis tells Jack for maybe the third time.

Trinity had wanted to invite a bunch of people over after her shift but had naturally procrastinated on cleaning up the place until the last minute. Jack had offered to come over early to help pick things up and had ended up practically deep cleaning the apartment.

“I just like to help out,” Jack returns, also for probably the third time.

He’d vacuumed, dusted, put in a load of dishes, all while Dennis was desperately trying to make his room look less like a giant slob lives there. He’d even stepped into Trinity’s room to toss her comforter over her messy sheets and shove some stuff underneath her bed.

Trinity rushes into the apartment, yelling over her shoulder that she’s going to take a quick shower. Jack is working on setting out some drinks and snack food. Dennis has given up trying to stop him.

Javadi and Kim are the first to arrive, and then Mateo shows up, followed by Garcia. Soon, it’s a full house, with folks from both the day and night shifts mingling, people on swings coming in once they get off work.

It seems like regardless of who he’s talking to, Dennis finds his eyes traveling over to check on Jack. For his part, Jack is effectively playing host, making sure people’s drinks are refilled, that they have enough food to eat, pushing a bottle of water on Javadi after she’s had a few too many mixed drinks.

Trinity and Garcia had rudely disappeared into Trinity’s room a half hour ago, making Dennis grateful for Jack stepping up. He finds himself absorbed in a conversation with Allie and Javadi about future plans.

“Yeah, nursing was just supposed to be a ‘for now’ thing, but I don’t know, I really like it. And I did spend a shit-ton of money on my degree,” Allie says, taking a sip of her rum and coke.

“But what would you do otherwise?” Javadi asks, her eyes so big.

Allie purses her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe write? I really liked the journalism class I took in undergrad. I could see myself being a science writer. Well, if journalism was, like, a thing that people could do as a career anymore.”

Javadi shakes her head. “I can’t imagine leaving medicine. My parents would kill me. Well, at least my mom would. Not sure about my dad.”

Allie hums. “Well, my parents are dead, but my husband would probably not appreciate the loss in income. What about you, Whitaker? Your parents push you to medicine, or what?”

Dennis snorts. “Not mine. My mom died a while back, but my dad wanted me to stay in Nebraska, work on the family farm.”

“Oh, right,” Javadi says. “Almost forgot you were a farm boy.”

Dennis feels a weight settle on the arm of the couch he’s sitting against. He knows without looking that it must be Jack, first because he can’t think of anyone else who’d sit this close to him, and second, because of the way Javadi’s eyes have just gotten huge. It’s hard to pretend that Jack’s proximity has no impact on him, but he gives a valiant try.

“Yeah, kind of the black sheep in my family. Maybe in more ways than one.”

He knows his smile is probably bitter. He feels Jack pressing a hand against his back.

“So, Javadi,” he says, his smile going a little mean. “You decide on a specialty yet?”

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I hate you, Whitaker.”

“Oooh, what’s the story there?” Allie asks.

Dennis leans back a little into Jack, having successfully redirected the conversation. Jack stays there for a little while longer, his hand on Dennis’s back, while Dennis laughs with Allie and Javadi, sipping a beer. An hour later, Dennis is feeling sufficiently buzzed. He steps into the kitchen to grab a handful of pita chips and hummus.

“When’s the last time you had some water, kid?” Jack asks, holding up a water bottle to him.

Dennis rolls his eyes but smiles, taking the bottle. “Thanks, dad.”

Jack huffs a laugh. “I’ve told you before, kid.” He walks closer, stopping just inches away so that Dennis has to crane his neck a little to meet his eyes. “I’m not your dad or your daddy. Just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

Ellis walks into the kitchen then, having just arrived after her swing shift. “Hey, boss, there you are! Can’t believe you actually showed up. Figured your old ass would be in bed by now.”

Jack casually steps around Dennis, as though he hadn’t just flipped a switch that turned on an inferno burning underneath Dennis’s skin. His face feels hot and he hopes he’s not blushing. He swallows a huge gulp of water, glad his back is to Ellis.

“Ellis, did you forget we work the same shifts? I can stay up late. I could probably last longer than you.”

“Boss, you do not want to get into an endurance competition with me. I have many, many satisfied reviews that will attest to my skills.”

Dennis chokes on his drink of water. Ellis reaches out to slap his back before she walks out of the kitchen. “Watch out, Whitaker, gotta be made of sterner stuff if you’re gonna stick with the night crew.”

Jack chuckles as she leaves. Dennis shakes his head. He’s gotten used to the crass sense of humor Ellis and Jack share on shift, but sometimes it still takes him by surprise. He feels Jack rubbing circles on his back now as he gives another cough.

“You ok, kid?”

“Yeah.” Dennis clears his throat. “Yeah. C’mon, let’s get back out there.”

Garcia is last to leave, of course, creeping past Dennis and Jack talking in low voices on the couch. She has the decency to look a little guilty as she gently closes the front door behind her. Dennis stretches and yawns. He’s used to being up this late, but the alcohol is dragging him down.

“Let’s get you to bed, kid. Take a nap, then get up again after a couple hours so you don’t lose your rhythm.”

Dennis nods, letting himself be steered into his bedroom. He’s extremely endeared when Jack faces the wall as Dennis quickly changes into his pajamas. Jack turns back when Dennis tosses his dirty clothes into his hamper, following Dennis to his bed to hold up the covers so Dennis can climb underneath.

“Sweet dreams, kid,” Jack mutters, switching off the bedside lamp. Dennis feels him brush a hand over his hair as his eyes drift closed.

When he gets out of bed a couple of hours later, determined to clean up the place, he sees that Jack’s already taken care of that, going so far as to empty the fucking dishwasher. He sits at the kitchen table, drinking tea, shaking his head at the full fridge of groceries Jack had also somehow managed to sneak in.

He thinks again about Jack’s hushed offer to help Dennis get off as he looks at the new loaf of bread on the counter. His life has taken such a strange turn. He’s almost afraid to do anything that would change that. But what if they could do it casually, like some kind of friends with benefits? Dennis isn't sure that Jack would go for that long-term, but maybe just a couple hook-ups would be enough to quench whatever weird fire burns him whenever he's around Jack. 

Dennis goes into the living room, flops on the couch and scrolls on his phone. And he wonders.

***

Dennis gets the emergency text as he’s putting his dirty bowl in the sink. At first, he thinks it might be Jack, since he’d set Jack’s number to be able to bypass his Do Not Disturb, but when he picks up his phone, it’s from the PTMC Alert system.

This is a Mass Casualty Incident Assistance Request. If you are receiving this text, please report to your department at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center as soon as you are able.

Dennis doesn’t bother checking his social media feeds for news. He’ll find out soon enough. Trinity’s already at work, and it’s just a couple of hours before his shift anyway. He throws on his scrubs and packs his bag, figuring today’s a good day to splurge on a taxi.

When he gets to the hospital, it’s relatively quiet outside. Then he hears the siren of an approaching ambulance, and he darts up to the drive to beat it in. He finds Shen covering triage.

“Apartment fire in our catchment. We’re getting most of them to treat the superficial burns and smoke injuries, but transferring the severe burns over to West Penn’s unit.” Shen nods toward the sliding doors. “Bet they could use you in there, Whitaker.”

Dennis nods back and walks through the doors. It’s not as bad as he’s seen, certainly not approaching the level of PittFest, but there are stretchers lining the walls, handfuls of extra people on the floor covered in soot and coughing, most with oxygen masks on.

Dennis takes a detour to drop his bag off in his locker, then returns to the floor and grabs a trauma gown. His eyes land on Jack, naturally, working just outside the trauma bays on a resuscitation. Dennis watches Jack’s arms straining through the compressions, Princess at the patient’s head, bagging them.

“Whitaker!” Dennis whips his head around at the sound of Robby’s voice. “Jump on some of these smoke inhalations.”

Nodding, Dennis walks over to the nearest patient in an oxygen mask along the wall and starts taking her history. His first and second patients had been quite far away from the fire, just experiencing mild smoke inhalation, but no temperature injuries.

Dennis is moving on to a third, when Amboy and Crowe wheel in a new patient who’s strapped to the hard spinal board, wearing a c-collar. Dennis is right there near the doors, so he walks with the patient into Trauma One, along with Ellis and Mel.

Crowe delivers the patient’s history. “This is Lisa Caldwell, 36, jumped out of a sixth story window to escape the fire, suspected pelvic injury. Pain meds on board.”

Ellis takes point on the case and begins speaking with Lisa. Her airway is good, she’s doing well on the room air, and her breath sounds are good. Dennis checks the ABCs, trying to avoid touching her lower abdominal area.

“Whitaker, eFAST, please,” Ellis says. “Mateo, can you get that for him?”

Mateo nods, handing Dennis the wand, and Dennis presses it against Lisa’s chest and abdomen, his eyes glued to the screen, but he finds no gathering fluid.

“eFAST is negative for any fluid,” he calls out, returning the wand to Mateo.

Ellis is palpating the woman’s pelvis. “Ma’am, can you tell me if this hurts?”

“Yes,” Lisa says, sniffling.

“Tenderness on the anterior pelvis. Based on the scene, we’re probably looking at lateral compression,” Ellis says. “We need x-rays to confirm.”

Jack walks in then, taking in the movement of the nurses and residents around the bay. Ellis leans over Lisa and explains what’s going to happen next, as Mel calls up to IR to see when she can go up for the x-rays. Antoine comes in to take her up; with a suspected pelvic injury, she’ll get bumped near the front of the line.

“Good job, team,” Ellis says. “We’ll regroup when she comes back and we can see the film.”

They all nod at Ellis and start filtering out as Esme moves in to quickly turn the bay around for the next patient. Jack pauses next to Dennis outside the bay.

“How you doing, kid?”

“It’s not as bad as the last time,” Dennis says, his voice low.

He doesn’t like to think about PittFest, about the amount of blood and pain he’d seen that day. Being an ED intern comes with its fair share of horrors, but that day had been on another level, to say nothing of the fact that it had been his first day in EM.

“Take a break if you need it,” Jack says, “and get plenty of water. We’ve still got a couple hours until our shift starts, and you need to be ok to get through that.”

Dennis nods at him. Before he heads away to find another patient, he feels Jack’s hand trail over his back, something the man never does when they’re at work. Dennis finds it fortifying, like Jack knows that this is fucking Dennis up a little, and while he can’t do much, he can offer a little bit of comfort, like a small port in a maelstrom. Dennis will take what he can get.

The patients start slowing down after an hour and Dennis feels relieved that they’ve only really had a handful of traumas, with maybe six people bad enough to be transferred to West Penn’s burn unit. Dennis is in Central 10, finishing up with one of the last apartment patients who’d come in with minor burns. As he’s walking through discharging instructions, he sees Robby leaning against the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

Once he’s done with the patient, Dennis squeezes by Robby, heading out to the central hub. Robby falls into step with him.

“You did really good today, Whitaker. I’m glad you came in.”

Dennis holds in his sigh. “Thanks, Dr. Robby.”

“Hey.” Robby puts his hand on Dennis’s forearm, pausing Dennis’s steps. “I mean it. You’ve really come a long way in these last couple months.”

Dennis feels a telltale prickle on the back of his neck, a sensation he associates with Jack. Sure enough, the man is watching his interaction with Robby from the other side of the hub.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Dennis’s mouth goes a little dry as his eyes meet Jack’s. “I’ve had a good teacher.”

There’s no way Jack can hear what they’re saying, with the loud sounds of the ED all around them, but his mouth still tips up at the corners, like he can’t help smiling when he looks at Dennis.

Robby hums and opens his mouth, like he’s about to say more, but Dennis pre-empts him.

“Sorry, Dr. Robby, I need to use the bathroom before my shift starts.”

He can see Robby watching after him when he turns into the men’s restroom, still standing in the middle of the floor.

***

Dennis wakes with a gasp, his hand reaching out to grab his phone before it rings again. He looks at the time and caller with a groan before he answers.

“Dad? What is it? Is everything ok?” His words are a little slurred, but it can’t be helped.

“You still in bed, er, son?”

Dennis sits up, rubbing his hand down his face. “It’s 10:00, dad. I’ve only been asleep for, like, two hours.”

After a rather uneventful night shift, considering the MCI preceding it, Jack had taken one look at Dennis and had brought him back to his house to sleep it off. Dennis climbs out of bed, hearing Shadow scratching at the guest room door to be let in. He goes out to the living room so he won’t disturb Jack, who sleeps with his bedroom door cracked to allow the cats in and out.

“Is something wrong?” Dennis asks again, dropping onto the couch. Shadow immediately jumps onto his lap and curls up there, purring.

“Your brother Samuel, he showed me some news footage of a bad fire out that way. They were at the hospital, and we saw you there, working.”

Dennis’s mouth drops open a little. He’d briefly noted the news cameras present outside the ambulance bay while he’d been helping to bring patients in from the rigs, trying to get a look at the apartment fire victims, but he hadn’t paid them too much attention, more focused on the patients. It’s strange to think of his brother and father, hundreds of miles away, seeing him at work.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad, but we only lost a couple patients.”

One person had died on the way to West Penn, having been in the apartment that had initially caught fire. The other was a baby who’d been overcome by the smoke. Only two fatalities, but like all the deaths on his shift before, they’d haunt Dennis.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” his father says, gruffly, like Dennis growing his hair out might have contributed to the fire.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m growing it out a bit.”

Something heavy drops onto the couch next to him and Dennis turns to see Jack sitting there. He reaches over onto Dennis’s lap to give Shadow some pets. Then he settles back against the cushions, his body pressed up alongside Dennis’s, providing support. Dennis leans against Jack’s body, soaking it up.

“But you're still... Hmph. Must be the fashion among the younger folks these days.”

Dennis wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Did you… did you want to talk about the fire, or?”

“Oh, no, uh, just… just wanted you to know we heard about it, saw you at work. Looks like you could be doing some good out there.”

Warmth fills Dennis’s chest. This could be the closest his father’s ever gotten to telling Dennis he’s proud of him. “Oh, I – ”

“You sure you don’t want to come out here to Omaha? Then you could help out on the farm, too.”

Dennis sighs and rubs his forehead. “Dad, I don’t think that would work out. I can’t transfer in the middle of my internship. And Omaha is hours away from Broken Bow. I couldn’t do both.”

It’s not until he feels Jack resting his cheek on his shoulder that Dennis realizes that he's fighting not to cry, exhausted by the day before, the lack of sleep, and his father's narrow-mindedness. He’d hoped so hard that someday his father would see how important his work, his medicine, is to him. That he’d see there was more to Dennis’s life than farming. And that it could be ok.

Jack’s presence, his touch, is grounding. He rests a palm against Dennis’s thigh and starts drawing small circles on it with his thumb. Dennis can take a breath, then another. The world will keep spinning and his disappointment will fade away.

“Right,” his father answers. “Well, I guess I’ll shove off, g’bye Gra– ”

Dennis hangs up before his father finishes the word. He drops the phone heavily onto the end table, inadvertently scaring Shadow off his lap. He exhales, his breath shaking and full of unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Jack says, so softly that Dennis feels the vibrations of the words through his body more than he hears them.

Dennis isn’t sure what to say. He tries not to, but his next breath is a sniffle. Jack lets go of Dennis’s thigh and reaches over behind them to drag a blanket off the back of the couch, covering Dennis with it.

“Why don’t you try to nap out here? You need more sleep before we go back to work tonight.”

Dennis nods and cuddles up against the side of the couch, clutching the soft throw pillow. As he closes his eyes, he feels Jack stroking his flank, his touch firm and sure. When he wakes again a few hours later, Jack’s spread out on the couch, his head back against the cushions, his mouth open and snoring. Dennis’s head has ended up in Jack’s lap, Jack’s arm wrapping around Dennis’s chest. His hand is cupped around Dennis’s arm against the bottom cushion, like he’s making sure Dennis doesn’t roll away.

Dennis gently extricates himself from Jack and pads down the hall to take a shower. Neither of them mention the phone call as they move around each other in the kitchen later, preparing some food before their shift.

***

Trinity puts the lid on the pot again. “Ok, now we need to get this to a boil, and then it simmers for about 20 minutes.”

Jack nods at her, a concentrating look on his face like there’s going to be a test later. The smells of garlic, vinegar, and soy sauce mingle with the seared chicken from earlier. Dennis is really looking forward to eating the chicken adobo when it’s ready. Trinity checks the pot, and seeing that the liquid is boiling, reduces the temperature and sets a timer. She and Jack join Dennis at the kitchen table.

“Thanks again for showing me how to make this, Santos,” Jack says.

She shrugs, but Dennis suspects that she feels it more than she’s letting on. She doesn’t often have time to cook, but she’d been more than willing to make the time for this. Dennis hadn’t exactly bullied her into it, but with all the nice things Jack had done for them around the apartment, it was only right to repay him.

“So you were in the Army,” Trinity says and Dennis wants to smack her.

“I sure was,” Jack replies.

“You like doing that?”

Jack’s face takes on a serious expression, like he’s really thinking about it. “Some things,” he finally settles on.

They don’t often talk about his military history, so Dennis is probably just as curious as Trinity to hear this.

“I enlisted when I was young. Grew up in Appalachia. Pretty much the only ways to get out were college or the Army, and I was not going to get in anywhere with my grades. I trained as a medic, discharged as a staff sergeant when I got caught in the IED.” He scratches the back of his neck. “All of which to say, I liked leading a team of men I could depend on, and I liked the medicine. Everything else…” he waves his hand, as though dismissing the entire military industrial complex, “was just bullshit to me.”

No one speaks for a couple minutes after that, the heaviness of Jack’s experience sitting in the silence. Then Trinity opens her mouth again, of course.

“What’s the craziest thing you ever did in the field that worked?”

Jack scratches his cheek. Dennis pretends not to notice the rustling sound of his fingertips against his stubble, or how it goes right to his dick.

“One time, I had to use two handkerchiefs and a big stick as a tourniquet. We were under fire from a local warlord, and I’d already used up the last medical-grade tourniquet at a village three clicks away. Had to wait two hours for an evac, but we got Jones to the base hospital, and they were able to save his leg.”

“Holy shit,” Trinity practically yells.

Dennis’s eyes are wide and he feels exactly the same way. It’s one thing to know that Jack had been doing dangerous missions and risking his life overseas. It’s another thing to hear such a clear example of it, to be able to imagine how close he could have come to dying.

Well, of course, he’d come even closer, in the explosion that had taken his leg. Dennis doesn’t like to think about it. He doesn’t want to imagine what could have happened if Jack hadn’t gotten to the hospital in time, or if the shrapnel had hit his femoral, or if –

“Hey, kid, you ok?”

Dennis looks up, startled to see that Trinity’s now over by the stove, checking on the chicken. Jack’s leaning toward him, his face pinched with concern. Dennis shakes his head and gives a short laugh that sounds a little manic to his ears.

“I’m fine. Just. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt. That’s all.”

Jack’s expression smooths out. He glances over his shoulder at Trinity, still at the stove. He leans a little closer, reaching under the table to wrap his hand around Dennis’s thigh, higher than he’s done before, so that the side of his pinkie almost slots into the juncture between his thigh and hip. Jack gives his leg a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here, kid. I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees, nodding. “I know. I know that. Sorry, I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.”

Without thinking, he drops one of his own hands beneath the table to rest on top of Jack's. They look at each other for a couple beats before Jack speaks again, his voice sounding a little rusty.

“You don’t have to apologize – ”

Trinity breaks in. “Ok, Abbot, now’s when we switch this to the broiler.”

“Yep,” Jack calls over his shoulder.

He turns back to Dennis and gives his thigh one more squeeze. His mouth curves into a soft smile as his hand slides out from under Dennis's hand, off his leg. He rises and heads over to help Trinity with the food. Dennis can’t help tracing his eyes over Jack, like he’s memorizing his shape, just in case.

Chapter Text

Dennis looks at his hand, then over at Jack across the table, and discards a seven.

Jack lays his cards on the table. “Gin.”

Dennis groans. “How do you keep doing that?”

“Gotta count the cards, kid.” Jack starts gathering the cards up and shuffling them. “This really isn’t that fair to you, though. Not much to do other than play cards during downtime overseas. I’ve got years of practice on you.”

To distract himself from the delicious thought of how much more experienced Jack would be compared to him in other areas, Dennis winces through another sip of whiskey. Jack had sworn he would like this one, but Dennis just doesn’t think he’ll grow to like the flavor of any whiskey.

As he watches Jack deal again, he can’t help the way his eyes catch on Jack’s fingers. They’re so thick, his fingernails blunt. Dennis wonders what two of them would feel like – how much would they stretch him? What about three? He startles when he notices that Jack’s watching him right back, his eyebrow quirked up.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Dennis says quickly, grabbing his glass of whiskey again to have something to do with his hands.

Before he can drink, though, one of Jack’s hands comes up and gently lowers the glass from his face. His eyes are on Dennis’s, his expression one of curiosity.

“Tell me?”

It’s a question, not a command, and that distinction has Dennis opening his mouth to confess his thoughts.

“The other day, when we were watching movies.”

“Yeah?” Jack’s voice is so low, almost hoarse, and that one word causes Dennis’s dick to twitch.

“You said… were you serious?”

The silence is so loud in the house. The air between them feels thick and ordinarily, Dennis would be panicking now, trying to find a way to escape the deluge of humiliation. But he can see Jack’s face. He can see how his breathing kicks up a little, how his eyes have darkened. He follows the path of Jack’s tongue as it wets his lower lip.

“You want me to help you out, kid? Help you relieve some tension?”

That tone again. Dennis has to swallow hard to keep himself from moaning out loud.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

“Yeah,” Jack repeats. “I can do that.”

Neither of them move right away. They sit staring at each other silently. Dennis feels like every muscle in his body is poised for action.

“It probably won’t take much,” Dennis tries for joking after the quiet becomes unbearable. “You could just bend me over the couch, really.”

As soon as he says it, a memory of the last time Robby had fucked him flashes through his mind and he definitely doesn’t want to think of that right –

“Oh, no, kid. If I’m gonna get you off, we’re going to do this proper.”

Dennis barely has time to process what is happening before Jack is manhandling Dennis onto his lap, and then Jack’s lips are connected to his. Jack’s lips are so soft, softer than Dennis would have thought possible. The pressure is gentle at first, the kiss chaste and tender.

But then the tip of Jack’s tongue is running along the seam of Dennis’s lips, and Dennis moans as he opens his mouth to Jack. He can feel Jack’s tongue sweep into his mouth, running along his teeth, the roof of his mouth, like Jack’s trying to memorize his mouth by feel alone.

“Is this ok?” Jack whispers against Dennis’s mouth after breaking the kiss. He peppers soft touches of his lips against Dennis’s jaw.

“Yes,” Dennis sighs, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck. “More,” he says, not quite able to form coherent thoughts.

He hears a rumbling sound in the back of Jack’s throat and Jack is fastening his mouth to Dennis’s once again, his tongue stroking along Dennis’s. He doesn’t understand how Jack does it, how he can make a kiss both soft and yet so fucking hot, like a promise of what he can do to other areas of Dennis's body. Jack’s hands, previously splayed across Dennis’s back, are on the move, one sliding down to cup Dennis’s ass and the other up to delve into his hair.

“Off, off,” Dennis mutters, pulling now at Jack’s t-shirt.

He wants to see that freckled canvas, wants to get his hands on those tits. Jack rushes to tug the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor behind him. Then his hands land at Dennis’s waist.

“Can I take yours off, too?”

Dennis pauses at that. He’s slightly stuck on the sight of Jack’s glorious chest, how full his tits look, how pink his nipples are, but also on a sudden spike of self-consciousness at the idea of Jack seeing him, naked. He knows that at some point, if orgasms are going to be part of the evening now, nudity is bound to happen. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Jack. He knows his body isn’t –

“Kid, I can hear you overthinking this,” Jack whispers in his ear, his tone taking on a low growl. “Please trust me that I am going to like whatever you have under your clothes.”

Dennis feels his nerves calm. After all, this is Jack. He doesn’t need to worry, to be uncomfortable about his body with Jack.

He nods, and Jack grabs the hem of Dennis’s shirt and slowly pulls it over his head, being mindful of Dennis’s chin. Jack taking such care with just removing Dennis’s shirt gives Dennis a sort of squirmy feeling in his chest. Once the shirt is off, joining Jack’s on the floor, Jack lets out a strangled sort of moan as he looks over Dennis’s chest.

“Christ, kid, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

Dennis swallows thickly as Jack strokes a hand from Dennis’s shoulder down to his waist. He can feel the callouses on Jack’s fingers as the man slowly drags them over the skin of his chest. He stops short of Dennis’s pants but runs his fingertips just underneath the waistband.

Seeing Jack’s hand so close to his cock, Dennis opens his mouth to say something very stupid but luckily slams it shut before he can vocalize it. Of course, Jack notices.

“What? What were you going to say?”

Jack’s now trailing a hand up and down Dennis’s back, which distracts Dennis for a second before Jack gets his other hand around Dennis’s chin and brings him back to the present.

Dennis clears his throat. Is he really going to do this? Ask for what you need pops into his head. Fuck. Yes, he really is.

“You said… you said you weren’t my daddy.” Dennis knows his voice is barely above a whisper, but he thinks he might die of embarrassment if he has to speak any louder. “Would you, uh, reconsider that, just for tonight?”

Jack’s staring at him, his eyes as dark as Dennis has ever seen them. His chest is heaving a little with his breaths.

“You want me to be your daddy, kid?”

Dennis lets out a low whine at the heat threading through Jack’s voice.

“Yes.” Dennis swallows. Might as well own it.

“Fuck.” Jack closes his eyes and tips his head back for a second. “Yeah, kid,” he says, opening his eyes again and touching his forehead against Dennis’s. “I can be your daddy. I’ll take good care of you, baby.”

Dennis thinks his own eyes might have rolled back in his head at Jack’s pronouncement. He wraps a hand around Jack’s neck and tugs to bring Jack’s mouth back to his, driving the kiss, turning it messy and wet. Jack moans into his mouth, apparently content to follow Dennis’s lead.

Dennis rolls his hips and breaks the kiss to whimper when his dick, hard already, scrapes against the fabric of his briefs. He can also feel the line of Jack’s cock underneath him, though Jack seems unconcerned about doing anything with his erection.

“Need to get out of these,” Dennis murmurs going back for more of Jack’s mouth, his hands going to his waist.

Jack’s hands cover Dennis’s, stilling them. “Let’s get over to the couch, baby. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Dennis isn’t proud of the whine he makes at hearing Jack calling him “baby” again, but he’s fast approaching the point where he doesn’t care how big a fool he makes of himself. As Jack stands with Dennis still in his arms, his arms supporting Dennis underneath his ass, Dennis is pretty sure he’s just raced past that point now anyway, just about creaming himself with the casual show of strength as Jack walks them out to the living room.

Dennis half-expects Jack to set him down in the living room and bend him over the back of the couch like he'd suggested earlier. But instead of that, or even just tossing him onto the couch, Jack comes around the front of it and gets his knee on the cushion, gently lowering Dennis down.

“As fucking hot as that was, I don’t want you to fuck up your body for me,” Dennis says, not missing the grimace as Jack stretches out his lower back a little.

Jack’s mouth twists into a self-deprecating smile as he meets Dennis’s eyes, then looks down as he begins to unbutton Dennis’s jeans. He shrugs one shoulder.

“I work out for a reason. Might as well put these muscles to good use.”

“Fuck,” Dennis says under his breath as Jack slowly pulls his pants and underwear down over his hips and tosses them onto the floor.

Now Dennis is half-reclining on the couch, completely naked, while Jack sits between his legs, still in his sweatpants. The disparity in their nudity makes it hotter to Dennis, like Jack is only interested in being of service to Dennis, like he doesn’t care about getting off himself. He’s tracing the scattered freckles up one of Jack’s arms and down the other with his eyes when Jack starts speaking in a more hesitant tone than before.

“I... I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with a trans guy before. So you’ll have to help me,” Jack says, his eyes now fixed on Dennis’s cunt, which is probably just a mess of his pubic hair and slick.

“What do you mean, help you?” Dennis asks, squirming on the couch a little.

Jack’s face is so open, the want clearly displayed on his features. He licks his lips, his eyes still watching to take in every twitch or spasm Dennis might make.

“I mean,” Jack says, his voice even raspier, “tell me what to do. Where do you want my fingers, my mouth? How hard, how fast?” His eyes finally return to meet Dennis’s. “How can I make you feel as good as possible?”

Dennis draws in a shaky breath and feels his cock harden a little more. He honestly can’t believe this is happening, even after the kissing, and the carrying, and the disrobing. This had all been just a hypothetical, or a joke, at one point. But now, seeing Jack barely containing his excitement to get Dennis off, he feels a little lightheaded.

“Start… start with two fingers… just stroking my cock,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack hums, an eager look on his face. He does exactly what Dennis says, using his thumb and forefinger to gently trace along the sides of his cock. And then, Jack groans as Dennis’s cock twitches, the head pushing out even more.

“You can tug on it, rub a little harder,” Dennis says.

He has to press his lips together to keep from moaning loudly as Jack applies a little more force, adding some pull on the downstroke. Jack’s eyes flick back up to his.

“Could you…” Jack breaks off and looks back down.

“What, Jack? What were you going to say?”

If Dennis hadn’t known any better, he’d think Jack is blushing, his skin pinkening as he licks his lips again, his fingers still making their slow progress up and down Dennis’s growth.

“I want to hear you, baby,” Jack says. “I wanna hear every noise you make, hear what I’m doing to you.”

“Fuck,” Dennis says, louder.

His head falls back against the arm of the couch and he’s just a mess of sensations as Jack’s fingers play with his cock. He feels one finger travel downward and dip into his slick, then come back up to circle the head of his cock, the fluid making the slide easier.

“That feels so good, daddy,” Dennis whispers without thinking.

But the second that word is out there in the room, between them, his eyes shoot open and find Jack’s. He’s frozen, his fingers paused in their movements between Dennis’s legs, but only for a second, before he’s moving again, stroking along Dennis’s dick, as he lets out a low moan himself.

“Christ, kid, you’re gonna kill me,” Jack mutters.

Dennis can’t help but move his hips a little, seeking more contact with Jack’s fingers. Jack’s other hand comes up to grab Dennis’s hip, not to push him down, but just to hold on, as he follows the rolling of Dennis’s hips.

“Can I taste you, baby?”

It’s the best idea Dennis has ever heard of. As soon as Jack asks, all he wants is to get Jack’s mouth on his cock.

“Yes, fuck, yes, daddy, please. Want your tongue on me.”

Jack grabs the throw pillow behind him and shoves it under Dennis’s ass, then backs up a little on the couch so he can bend over. At first Dennis just feels his breath against his folds, on his cock. And then Jack licks a small stripe up the side of Dennis’s growth and Dennis practically jumps off the couch.

His face heats up at his reaction, but Jack doesn’t seem to mind. He just moans over Dennis’s cunt and wraps his lips around Dennis’s dick, flicking the tip with his tongue. Dennis can feel more slick spilling out of his cunt and tries to think of a time he’d ever been so wet. Jack seems to enjoy it, the soft hums and moans he’s making vibrating over Dennis’s dick, along his folds.

Then Jack’s mouth starts to slowly move down and Dennis can feel his tongue lapping at his entrance.

“Is this ok?” Jack asks, tilting his head up to see Dennis’s face. “Do you want me to stay on your… sorry, I don’t know what words you’d like me to use.”

Dennis feels a little discombobulated at the sudden switch from getting eaten out to Jack inquiring about language.

“Oh, uh, dick, cock, those are fine. And um, cunt, I guess?”

Jack makes a low noise in the back of his throat. “Is that what you want me to use? You’re comfortable with those?”

Dennis lets out a whine of frustration. “Yes, yeah, those are fine, everything’s fine, please put your mouth back on me.”

Jack gives him a smirk and then his face is buried between Dennis’s legs again and Dennis feels like he’s slowly roasting over a fire, warmth spreading across his limbs, a spike of heat rising in his cunt, where Jack is licking around the outside of it, and then he’s slipping his tongue inside.

“This is a pretty cunt, baby,” Jack says, giving it small licks as he looks up at Dennis. “Can I put my fingers inside it?”

“Yes, daddy, please put your fingers in me,” Dennis moans, his hips moving again of their own accord, his hand sliding off the back of the couch to touch Jack's hair, the strands curling between his fingers.

Jack hums at that, and Dennis feels a fingertip graze the entrance to his cunt before pressing slowly inside. Jack returns his mouth to Dennis’s cock, sucking and tugging on it while he slowly pumps a finger in and out of Dennis’s cunt. One finger then becomes two and Dennis is just lying back with his hand resting on Jack's head, letting the sensations spark through him.

He’s not even concentrating on coming, really, until he feels an unfamiliar tension starting to build low in his abdomen. It almost feels like he needs to take a piss, but not quite. He taps Jack’s head, quickly distracted again by how soft the man’s curls are.

“Everything ok, baby?” Jack asks, taking his mouth away from Dennis’s cock, but continuing the slow thrusting of his fingers into Dennis’s cunt.

Dennis squirms a little on the couch. “I don’t know, it kind of feels like I have to pee, like there’s pressure…”

He points to his lower quadrants. For some reason, Jack’s face stretches out into a smile, but something almost predatory. His eyes glitter a little as he flicks them up to Dennis’s.

“Yeah? That’s ok, baby, that’s good. You just do what feels good and let go when you need to.”

And then he’s back with his mouth firmly attached to Dennis’s dick. If anything, he’s increased the pressure, the force of his tongue against Dennis’s cockhead. The feeling of fullness isn’t uncomfortable, but it is a little strange, something he's never felt before. He tries to relax, trusting that Jack knows what he’s doing.

“You ever play with your asshole, baby?” Jack asks, the tone of his voice sending a shiver up Dennis’s spine.

Dennis shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes.”

He doesn’t do it often, since his previous sexual partners had found it easier to just use his cunt most of the time, not wanting to worry about as much prep. But now he feels one of Jack’s fingers swirl through his folds and travel down past his cunt, down over his perineum, and around and around his rim. Jack doesn’t push in, just applies a little pressure to the outside of the muscle.

With his other hand, Jack continues slowly pushing two fingers into Dennis’s cunt, curling them up to stroke against his wall, like he’s searching for that button to ramp up the pressure, the fullness inside Dennis. And he finds it.

Dennis has a hard time keeping his hips from wiggling around as Jack mounts a multi-frontal assault of pleasure, sucking Dennis’s dick into his mouth, thrusting fingers into his cunt, and now rocking a finger gently against his rim, pressing so softly against the center of the ring of muscle until just the tip slips inside.

And it’s the addition of that gentle push into his hole that suddenly breaks the tension between Dennis’s legs. It takes him a second to register that he’s coming because the orgasm sneaks up on him so fast. He feels his cunt spasming around Jack’s fingers and then he’s suddenly so much wetter, a rush of liquid spilling out between his legs.

Had he just squirted? He’s never done that before. His head feels kind of fuzzy, like he can’t quite wrap his head around it, his brain swamped with pleasure.

Jack’s moaning and he presses his mouth to Dennis’s cunt, pulling his fingers out so he can force his tongue as far inside as he can get to lap up Dennis’s cum, his nose brushing over Dennis’s twitching cock.

It feels like every nerve ending has lit up across Dennis’s body. He feels like he’s died and been brought back to life by Jack’s mouth. He hears a keening sound cutting through the living room and realizes that he’s the one making it. Wave after wave of pleasure is battering him and he never wants it to stop.

Until he hits a wall of overstimulation. Then he’s tugging on Jack’s hair.

“Daddy, daddy, too much, please, too much,” he whines, trying to wiggle away.

Jack licks one more stripe over Dennis’s folds and sits upright, pulling his fingers away. The lower half of Jack’s face is drenched. An aftershock pulses through Dennis’s cock as he watches Jack’s tongue try to lick up Dennis’s taste off his lips.

Jack strokes Dennis’s thigh. “That ok for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” Dennis moans, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, yes, it was great.”

Then he shoots up, propping himself up on the couch with his elbows. “Wait, what about you, Jack?”

“What about me?”

His face is once again unconcerned, his eyes warm, as he continues to stroke Dennis’s thigh.

“Do you want me to…”

Jack shakes his head, a small smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. Dennis’s eyes widen a little as he watches Jack bring his hand, the hand that had recently been shoved inside Dennis's cunt, to his mouth so he can suck on his fingers.

“Trust me, baby, I am good.”

Dennis’s face heats up again at Jack still using the pet name, even after Dennis’s orgasm. He flicks his eyes down to Jack’s sweatpants, not trusting him all the way about not needing anything from Dennis. He expects to see Jack’s erection still making itself known, but instead, he sees a dark spot staining the light grey sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” he moans, flopping back onto the couch. “You came just from sucking my dick?”

Jack seems so goddamned matter-of-fact about it. “I told you, kid. I like helping. Whatever you need.”

Dennis lets out a little whimper and Jack’s still touching him, a palm on his knee, like he can’t help himself but put his hands on Dennis’s body.

“C’mon, baby,” Jack says softly, tugging now on Dennis’s hand. “I think you need a bath and then a nap.”

When Dennis is sinking into the warm water ten minutes later, he realizes that Jack had been right. It feels good to lay back in the tub, water covering him up to just below his chin. Jack had put a lavender bath bomb in the water and turned the lights down low. He sits on the toilet lid, not looking at Dennis, like he’s trying to give him some privacy, but his presence is reassuring rather than overbearing.

He’s not sure how long he soaks, but when the water starts to cool off too much, Dennis sits up, reaching for the washcloth Jack had set on the edge of the tub. He doesn’t get far enough to pick it up, though, as Jack slides off the toilet seat and kneels next to the tub. He reaches into the water to release the drain and turns the faucet on again, warm water spilling in. Gently, he soaps up the washcloth and drags it over Dennis’s body, taking extra care between his legs and along his thighs. When he’s rinsed Dennis off, Jack helps him stand and grabs a towel to dry him.

It’s the oddest but also one of the most intimate experiences Dennis thinks he’s ever had. Jack’s acting as though Dennis is made from spun glass or a precious stone. He seems unbothered by getting splashed by bathwater, the length of time he’s spent kneeling on the bathroom floor.

He guides Dennis into his bedroom, which Dennis has never seen before. The walls are light gray, hung with a mix of art and photos, showing Jack at different points in his life. A few feature Jack with a lithe blonde woman, smiling at the camera. Dennis swallows and looks away. The bed is lower to the ground than Dennis would have expected with an adjustable frame, but that probably makes it easier for Jack to transfer to his chair or maneuver up to his crutches.

Jack peels back the covers and Dennis sits on the edge of the bed, still naked. Jack leans down and picks up Dennis’s legs, swinging them around onto the bed. It’s not that Dennis can’t do this himself. He’s fully capable of getting into bed, sure. But in the bubble they’ve created, it makes perfect sense for Dennis to let Jack take care of him, to let Jack arrange his body in the way Jack seems to think Dennis needs.

And fuck, if Jack isn’t right.

Dennis settles into the bed, rubbing his face against the pillow that smells just like Jack. The covers come over him and Dennis feels a brush of lips against his temple.

“Close your eyes and take a nap, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

In literally any other context, Dennis would cringe at those lines, at the circumstance he’s found himself in. But here, in Jack’s bed, as Shadow jumps up next to him and curls her body next to Dennis’s, it feels right. It feels like something has slotted into place.

Dennis knows that it’s not permanent, though, that in the light of morning, they’re both going to realize this is a one-time-only event. Regardless of how good Jack had made him feel, both sexually and emotionally, this is just something casual, something between friends. There’s just no way that Jack would want him beyond that. Still, in the dark, Dennis finds himself leaning in to the fantasy, imagining what his life would be like to really be taken care of by Jack.

When he wakes up a couple of hours later, feeling very refreshed, Dennis wraps himself in a blanket and tiptoes out to the living room, where he finds Jack passed out on the couch. He’s thrown on a sweatshirt, but is still wearing the sweatpants from before, the stain dried but still obvious. Dennis wonders why Jack had chosen to sleep out here, instead of with Dennis, but then it’s clear to him.

Of course. He’d just been doing Dennis a favor by getting him off. It’s not like they’re in a relationship. Not like Jack would want to do something as intimate as sleep with Dennis. He sighs, willing himself not to let his heart get entangled again.

Dennis hastily scrawls a note about heading home and leaves the pad of paper on the end table where he knows Jack will see it. He throws his clothes on, wincing at his slightly stiff underwear, and slips out the front door, heading to the bus stop. It’ll be a while before he gets home, but it’ll be better than facing the inevitable awkwardness once Jack wakes up.

***

He and Jack don’t talk about it. Instead, they do an amazing, award-worthy performance of pretending it hadn’t happened. There’s a brief bit of awkwardness at the very beginning of their first shift after The Incident, as Dennis is calling it in his mind, but then they easily slide into their usual work dynamic. Jack seems to take his cues from Dennis, and Dennis is infinitely grateful.

Trinity swaps a shift with Najeeb a few nights later and it’s nice working with her again, though she grumbles a lot about being awake when reasonable people are sleeping. During a lull, they chat in the breakroom, munching on protein bars that Jack had brought in for them.

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

“Well, you can ask.” She looks at him expectantly.

“Say someone was interested in a very casual, but regular, thing with a friend.”

Trinity wrinkles her nose. “Dude. I am a lesbian.”

“Ugh, no, ew, Trinity, what the hell.”

She breathes out a sigh. “Oh, thank god, ok, continue.”

Dennis sends her a disgusted look before he continues. “Anyway, how would that person go about having that conversation? You know, how would they make clear that it’s just casual, no strings attached, but they’re still interested in doing it more than once?”

Trinity takes another bite of her protein bar and hums. “I mean, you could just use your words, Huck. I’m sure Abbot would understand.”

“Trinity!” Dennis hisses. “I didn’t say any names.”

“Yeah, but it’s obvious. I mean, to me, at least.” She tosses the last bite in her mouth and throws the wrapper away. “Look, man. I am not going to overtly support you hooking up with yet another of our bosses.”

Dennis whines and sends her a wounded look.

“Hey, you shouldn’t shit where you eat,” she says, holding her hands up. “But. But, he seems, I don’t know, like he really cares about you. I think it might be good for you to have a positive, but definitely casual, arrangement with him.”

“Am I supposed to point out the hypocrisy of that statement, or are we just going to ignore the Garcia of it all?”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, leaving the breakroom.

Dennis does feel better, though. He and Jack can just have a conversation, about their expectations, their boundaries. Jack’s always pushing him to verbalize what he wants. It shouldn’t be difficult for them to talk about it.

***

Jack gives him a ride home after their shift, Trinity begging off to meet Garcia for breakfast. Neither of them comment on the fact that Jack drives Dennis to his house, instead of the apartment. They don’t speak as Jack pulls into the garage, and they get out of the car and walk into the darkened house. Jack drops the cats’ wet food in their bowls, then washes his hands.

And then he turns around and hoists Dennis up onto the kitchen counter, yanks his scrubs and underwear down his hips, and puts his lips around Dennis’s cock. Dennis hadn’t exactly been expecting it, but he hadn’t not been expecting something to happen, the air in the car and now Jack’s house nearly crackling with the electricity between them.

Jack moans into Dennis’s folds and hooks Dennis’s knees over his shoulders. Dennis supports himself with one hand on the edge of the counter, the other threading into Jack’s curls.

“Daddy, your mouth feels so good,” Dennis murmurs, his head falling back against the cabinet above the counter.

“Been thinking about this cock for days, baby. Couldn’t wait to get my mouth on it again.”

Dennis moans, pushing Jack’s head deeper between his legs. He has a vague thought about accidentally suffocating Jack with his cunt, but he figures that Jack will pull off if he needs air. Apparently, though, he does not. Using his lips, his teeth, his tongue, he brings Dennis to orgasm in less than five minutes.

In the aftermath, Dennis slides his legs off Jack’s shoulders, allowing the man to pull back. But Jack leans against the counter, in Dennis’s space, his hands bracketing Dennis’s hips. They’re both panting, watching each other carefully. Dennis’s eyes dip to Jack’s scrubs and he groans when he sees another wet spot growing on the crotch.

“We need,” Dennis starts before he breaks off to take a few panting breaths. “We need to talk about this. Set some boundaries.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, nodding.

“I don’t want this to interfere with our working relationship or with our friendship.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s just… keep it casual. No strings. We’re just… we’re just friends who get off together sometimes.”

“Sure,” Jack says, nodding again. They stare at each other for a few more silent beats.

“Feel like we’ve talked it through enough?”

“Um, yeah, I guess, I just – ”

Dennis’s words are cut off when Jack grabs his legs to spread them and hook them around his waist before running a fingertip through Dennis’s folds.

“I think you’ve got at least one more in you, baby. Think you could come on my fingers?”

Dennis is still wet and sensitive from his last orgasm. Jack uses that to slowly push his middle finger into Dennis’s cunt. The slide is delicious, both too much and not enough. It occurs to Dennis that he still hasn’t seen Jack’s cock and he wonders what it would feel like to have Jack fuck him with that.

And then Jack is curling his finger against the wall of Dennis’s cunt.

“Oh, fuck, daddy, right there.”

“Yeah, baby?” Jack grunts in satisfaction. “You just let daddy take care of you.”

Dennis moans, and it’s not long before he’s coming again, three of Jack’s fingers thrusting deep inside his cunt while he grinds the palm of his hand against Dennis’s hard dick. Jack strokes him through it, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against Dennis’s forehead.

“So perfect, baby,” Jack murmurs, his lips moving against Dennis’s skin.

Dennis is completely wiped by the second orgasm, and he doesn’t put up much of a fight when Jack ushers him to bed, this time bundling Dennis into the guest bedroom, where he usually crashes when he’s over. If Dennis is a little disappointed at not being able to sleep with Jack, he doesn’t say it.

And if he catches a look on Jack’s face, like he’d rather be crawling in beside Dennis, too, he doesn’t say that, either, instead watching Jack quietly close the bedroom door after he steps out.

***

Dennis thinks they do a pretty good job of hiding the shift in their relationship at work.

Jack does work fewer cases with only Dennis, instead encouraging Dennis to work with any of the other residents, or with Shen when he’s working. While Dennis misses the ability to easily grab a case with Jack, he also recognizes that building a stronger rapport with his coworkers isn’t a bad thing. Dennis wonders more than once if the others understand why Jack’s effectively pawning Dennis off onto them, but if they do, no one says anything about it, though Dennis does catch Pierce watching him and Jack sometimes, like they’re trying to solve a riddle.

Dennis and Jack get into a habit of doing their own debrief sometime after 0600, when Jack’s heard from the others how Dennis has been doing. They walk through the cases Dennis has taken during the shift and discuss how each had gone and where Dennis might improve.

“Tell me about the GI bleed,” Jack says, his mouth too close to Dennis’s ear.

“Pierce and I caught a 68-year-old man who came in vomiting emesis the consistency of coffee grounds. Had a history of alcohol misuse. He presented pale and sweaty, just really looked bad, low BP. Vomited blood while he was in the trauma bay.”

Dennis takes a sip of water from the bottle Jack had pushed into his hand earlier, remembering how scared the patient had looked.

“Distended abdomen, on top of all that. I figured bleeding varices, either gastric or esophageal. We gave him anti-coagulants and transfused with packed red blood cells. James came down from Cardiology and Wilson came down from GI to consult. Wilson admitted the patient to ICU.”

Jack nods, his arm shifting slightly on top of the counter so that it’s less than an inch away from where Dennis’s is resting. “How you do think it went? Anything you would have done differently?”

Dennis thinks back to how the case had unfolded. “Maybe getting a GI consult earlier when he had the episode of hematemesis.”

They continue to go back and forth, discussing Dennis’s patients, considering other differentials, other steps Dennis could have taken. Jack’s eyes are practically glittering through the exchange, like he’s glowing from inside whenever he looks at Dennis. All the while, their bodies are hovering near each other, each twitch and fidget bringing a hand or thigh closer than necessary, riding the line of professionalism.

Dennis is so focused on the lopsided smile Jack is giving him that he doesn’t notice it’s time for shift change until Trinity punches him in the arm.

“Have a good night, Huckleberry?”

Dennis rubs his arm. “Yeah, it was fine. Nothing too exciting. Only one foreign body removal.”

“Gross,” Trinity says.

She reaches up to pull her hair back and Dennis sees Robby watching him from the other side of the hub. He’s not sure how long Robby’s been there, but his expression is one of confusion, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Anything to hand off?” Trinity asks and Dennis drags his attention back to her as Jack moves off to talk to Robby and recap the shift.

After he’s spoken with Trinity and Javadi about his remaining night shift patients, and then said hello to Mel and Samira, Dennis is about to head over to his locker when Robby steps in his path.

“Whitaker. Got a minute?”

Dennis looks up at him, then down at the floor. “Sure, Dr. Robby.”

“Walk with me,” Robby says, his hand floating over Dennis’s shoulder, but not making contact.

Dennis follows him to the stairwell, but Robby doesn’t continue to the stairs, instead leaning against the entrance so no one can follow them in.

“How’s it going on the night shift, Whitaker?”

Dennis nods. “Yeah, still going well. I’m learning a lot. Ellis, Pierce, Najeeb, they’re all great.”

Robby raises his eyebrow. “Not Abbot?”

“No, of course, Abbot’s great.”

Robby hums. “Of course.”

There’s a beat of silence, a tension in the air that Dennis doesn’t understand.

Robby opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again. “You’re not… with Jack, are you?”

Suddenly, Dennis is very tired. From the work, sure, and the constant anxiety of whether he's doing the right thing or missing something crucial. But also, he’s tired of needing to put up so many walls around his emotions, his wants. And he’s tired of whatever weird shit is going through Robby’s mind that makes him keep poking at whatever had been between the two of them.

“What are you trying to ask, Robby?”

The other man doesn’t meet Dennis’s eyes. “If there’s anything inappropriate going on between you two – ”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Dennis interrupts him, his voice quiet but angry.

Robby’s eyes shoot up his in surprise, probably at the way Dennis is speaking to him, like he can’t imagine Dennis pushing back, having a mind of his own.

“What’s going on, or rather, not going on between Abbot and me is not your business.”

Robby gives a sort of strangled laugh. “It is my business. This is my ED.”

Dennis snorts. “Right. Right. Of course, it is, Robby. And was it also your ED when your dick was – ”

“Whitaker!” Robby hisses at him.

Dennis shakes his head, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief. “This is all very fucking rich coming from you, Robby. You’re like, the king of blowing through work boundaries.”

Robby’s face does a weird thing where several expressions flash across it in quick succession. The final expression is pretty pitiful and Dennis is not in a mood to feel sorry for Robby, no matter how sad his brown eyes look.

Dennis shakes his head. “If you’re feeling some kind of way about me, you had your chance. And you threw it away. So, just, I don’t know, fucking live with it.”

He pushes past Robby to get back onto the ED floor, smiling brittlely at his coworkers as he hurries toward the ambulance bay. When he gets outside he realizes that he’s shaking. But he’s proud of himself. He’d stood up to Robby, maybe a little late, but he’d done it. As he’s walking toward the bus stop, his phone buzzes.

Jack 😽 [07:13] come over when you wake up? the cats miss you

Dennis smiles and stuffs his phone back in his pocket. He’s got better things to think about.

Chapter Text

Dennis is trying to focus on reading an Annals of Emergency Medicine article Pierce had sent him, about the adoption of AI scribe technology for reducing charting time. They’d included some snarky notes in the margins, about how the data show the tech is basically only good for straightforward cases in quiet areas.

He really is trying to focus, but he keeps getting distracted by the view over the top of his tablet. Jack’s sitting on the other end of the couch, his back against the arm of it, his own arm stretched along the back cushions as he holds a paperback novel in his other hand. His residual limb is laying on the couch and his foot is down on the carpet. He’s wearing his fucking reading glasses, which magnify the movement of his eyes scanning back and forth on the page.

Dennis should not find Jack’s pose of relaxation so hot. He keeps expecting the fire under his skin – barely banked when he’s at work – to burn out, to dissipate. Jack’s gotten him off a few times now, with his mouth, with his fingers. Dennis had expected that a few orgasms would be enough for him to get it out of his system.

But every time they’re alone together, even if they’re just sharing an afternoon before they have to go in to work, all Dennis can think about is how he hasn’t actually seen Jack’s dick yet, hasn’t felt it in his hands.

He draws his feet up, balancing his tablet on his thighs. He reads a line in the article. Then he glances over at Jack, turning a page in his book. Another line. He surreptitiously scoots one foot down the couch, just an inch. Rinse and repeat. Another line in the article, another inch down the couch. Jack turns a page. A line, an inch, a turned page.

Sooner than Dennis had thought he’d get there, his foot is resting right against Jack’s crotch, his leg stretched out all the way. Jack still isn’t responding, is still making a show of reading his book. But Dennis can tell that his breathing has picked up. And then he feels a twitch against the sole of his foot.

Jack is getting hard.

Dennis abandons the pretense of reading the article, openly staring at Jack, watching a shaky inhale, hearing the subtle throat clearing. After approximately two eternities, Jack lifts his eyes to meet Dennis’s. Dennis can feel Jack’s cock growing even fatter under his foot.

“Did you need something, kid?”

If Dennis had been closer to the edge, Jack’s voice, pitched low and gravely, could possibly have tipped him over. He doesn’t know what it is about Jack’s voice, how soft it can be, but with an edge. Open to instruction, always wanting Dennis to tell him what to do, how to touch him, but with an underlying weight, like he’s always on the brink of taking control and doing whatever he thinks will make Dennis scream.

Dennis presses his foot down on Jack’s erection and the man lets out a soft grunt.

“Why do you never let me touch your cock, Jack?”

Jack waits for a beat, then responds. “Is that something you want?”

Dennis’s mouth goes dry. He can’t believe that’s Jack’s reply, like all Dennis had to do was just ask for it. But then, that’s how Jack operates, isn’t it? Always willing to give Dennis whatever he wants, if only he’ll say the words. So he does.

“I want to get you off with my hands, and after that, I want to rub my dick all over yours until I come.”

Jack lets out a forceful breath. “Christ, kid.”

Immediately, he starts taking his clothes off, whipping his shirt over his head, shoving his sweatpants down his hips. Dennis can’t hold back a gasp when he notices that Jack hadn’t been wearing underwear, but also, his dick is roughly the shape of a coke can. While it’s a little over average in length, it’s really the thickness that catches Dennis’s eye. His mouth goes dry again at the prospect of getting it in his mouth at some point in the future, or in any other hole in his body.

Jack nods at him, breaking the spell of Dennis drooling over his body. “You, too, baby, c’mon.”

Dennis joins him in tossing aside his clothes, and then he’s crawling across the couch to kneel right in front of Jack. He wraps Jack’s residual limb around his waist so that he can get even closer, and he spits into his hand before wrapping it around Jack’s hard cock.

“Fuck,” Dennis mutters when he sees he can’t quite meet his thumb and fingers around the base of Jack’s dick. “It’s so thick.”

Jack makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and his hips give a sort of jerk, which seems involuntary. He’s leaking pre-cum in a steady stream and Dennis is fascinated by how Jack’s dick gets even harder as he starts slowly stroking it.

“Feels so good, baby,” Jack says in a low voice, his head thrown back.

Dennis relishes the feeling of giving Jack so much pleasure, but he needs more from the man. He needs that thread of connection.

“Look at me, daddy.”

Jack’s head instantly snaps up, his eyes finding Dennis’s. His face is flushed pink, his pupils blown, and he’s starting to sweat a little. It’s all making Dennis’s head go a little fuzzy, to know that he’s the cause of it all, that Jack wants him so clearly, so demonstrably.

His own cock is hard and twitching between his legs, his cunt on its way to sopping. And he realizes he can’t wait for Jack to come. He wants to feel that slide now. He lets go of Jack’s dick, drawing a protesting noise from Jack’s mouth.

“Hold on, daddy, hold on,” Dennis mutters as he struggles to reposition himself.

Jack quickly catches on to what’s happening and grabs at Dennis’s thighs to support his weight. Dennis scrambles up Jack’s body, his hands landing on Jack’s pecs for balance. Then he briefly forgets what he’d meant to do when he feels the fullness of Jack’s tits under his hands. He hums as he squeezes them, rolling his hips when he hears Jack groan.

They’re the perfect size, filling his hands. Dennis cups them and runs his thumbs over Jack’s nipples. Jack’s breathing in pants now, his eyes bouncing between Dennis’s face and what he’s doing to Jack’s chest. Dennis bends down to take one of Jack’s nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

“Fuck, baby,” Jack mutters, now rolling his own hips up, causing the tip of his cock to brush against the top of Dennis’s inner thigh.

Dennis pulls off, catching the nipple in his teeth before letting go and pinching the other one between his fingers. Jack grunts and rocks his hips again, a smear of pre-cum coating Dennis’s thigh. He scoots down Jack’s torso a little and reaches between his legs to give Jack’s dick a stroke before dropping it to lay against Jack’s belly, lowering his hips to frot against it.

Already worked up from playing with Jack’s tits, the first slide almost makes Dennis come. The groan he lets out is low and long. Jack’s hands tighten around his thighs as Dennis skates up and down the length of Jack’s cock, the leaking head catching against Dennis’s folds, Dennis’s slick soaking Jack’s pubic hair. Even without any lube, the sounds of their dicks rubbing together borders on obscene: slippery, wet sounds that spur Dennis to increase his pace.

Dennis can feel the orgasm cresting, but he needs something else, something a little more. He opens his mouth, then closes it, not sure what to even ask for.

“What, baby? What do you need?” Jack asks, his tone desperate.

“I… I don’t know, just, more,” Dennis says, a broken sob making its way out.

“It’s ok, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

And Jack slides his hands up from Dennis’s thighs to his back and shoves Dennis closer to him. The height difference, the angle, puts Jack in just the right position to lean forward and take one of Dennis’s nipples in his mouth, almost a mirror of what Dennis had just done to Jack.

Dennis is usually neutral on his nipples. After top surgery, they’d lost most of their sensation, a risk he’d known was a possibility. So he’s never really bothered to ask for nipple play or gotten upset when partners have just ignored them. It occurs to him, as Jack’s teeth capture his nipple and clamp down, that losing most of their sensation is not the same as losing all of it.

When the sharp pain of Jack’s incisors tugging and biting at Dennis’s nipple travels down his spine, he can’t do much but yell and grind his hips faster against Jack’s cock, pressing his chest harder against Jack’s mouth. Jack releases the first nipple to move on to the second, but his hand comes up to pinch and pull on the first, and the added sensation is exactly what Dennis needs to tumble over the cliff into orgasm.

It must go on for more than a minute, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he cries out. He’s insensible to anything else but the feelings of pleasure between his legs, on his chest. When he comes back to reality, he’s exhausted, slumping against Jack’s body as Jack strokes his back with one hand, the other loosely wrapped around his ass. It’s evident, from the wetness against his belly, that Jack had come as well.

Dennis can’t quite decide on how he feels about the fact that Jack only seems to come when Dennis does, that Jack is eternally unconcerned about his own pleasure. It makes Dennis feel amazing and selfish at the same time.

“I can hear your thoughts churning, baby. What’s got you bothered right now?”

Dennis shifts his body so that his cheek is against Jack’s chest. He lets out a sigh.

“You never, like, push to fuck me. Or do anything really. I guess I feel like whatever we do, it’s always on my terms.”

“And that bothers you?”

Dennis stretches his neck to look up at Jack. Jack’s face is open, a smile playing on his lips. He keeps stroking Dennis’s back. Dennis shrugs, and looks back down, rubbing his face against Jack’s chest hair.

“Just… it doesn’t feel equal. I feel selfish.”

Jack tightens his grip on Dennis’s ass, bringing their hips together. Dennis can feel his cock, now soft, laying against the juncture of his hip and thigh.

“If you want to fuck, we can fuck. If you don’t want to fuck, we don’t have to fuck.” Jack shrugs his shoulders. “I want to do what you want to do. It’s not… equal doesn’t come into it. If it makes you feel better, you could say I get off on whatever gets you off. I just like taking care of you, baby.”

Dennis has heard that line from Jack before. And he does know that Jack seems perfectly delighted to do whatever Dennis wants, to help him, to take care of him. But it still doesn’t quite seem real. Like, there’s just no way that Jack, one of the hottest men Dennis has seen in real life, is interested in just following Dennis’s directions, would want to keep doing things like cooking for him, buying him the creamer he likes. Dennis still isn’t quite over the fact that Jack had done that for him.

“Can you trust me on that? Trust your daddy to take care of you?”

Dennis feels tears pricking and he closes his eyes against an unexpected wave of emotion. He nods against Jack’s chest. “Yeah, I trust you, daddy.” His voice sounds a little thick to his ears and he hopes Jack doesn’t notice.

“Good boy,” Jack murmurs against the top of his head, pressing a kiss into Dennis’s hair.

***

Dennis flops onto the seat in front of his usual computer terminal. It’s maybe not the most professional way to sit down, sprawled onto the chair, his legs wide, his posture collapsed. But he’d slept poorly before his shift, and now it’s almost 0200 and he’s just… irritated. It buzzes under his skin, a constant reminder, and he wishes he were anywhere else, doing anything else.

He sits back in the seat as he badges in, determined to get some charting done while all his active patients are in observation mode or waiting for labs to come back. A warm presence comes up behind him. He can feel a solid wall against his shoulders and the back of his head as Jack leans into him, his mouth coming down to speak in Dennis’s ear.

“When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

Dennis can’t help the small shudder that runs through him. That tone Jack’s using, it’s usually reserved for off the clock. It’s the rough texture, the smooth cadence that automatically flashes the word daddy through Dennis’s brain.

At first, he wants to resist answering or respond with something sarcastic. But then Jack’s stretching an arm out, like he’s reaching for something on the counter in front of them, allowing Jack to mold his body even tighter against Dennis’s. Dennis feels enveloped by his presence and the scent of Jack’s musk fills his nose. He knows Jack wouldn’t ask without a reason.

So Dennis swallows down his initial instinct, and replies, “Before my shift.”

Jack hums behind him and Dennis hears a rustling sound. A full-size candy bar appears in front of him and Dennis only has to glance at the wrapper to know what kind it is. He’s immediately transported to earlier in his internship, an identical candy bar falling out of his locker.

He quickly spins in the chair, nearly slamming his head into Jack’s nose. “Jack, what the fuck?”

Jack’s face would be comical in any other context, like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He holds up a finger to Dennis, then clears his throat. He jerks his head behind him, in the direction of the corridor between the West and Central rooms. Dennis rises from the computer terminal, signing out, and follows him into the Peds room.

“It was all you, wasn’t it?”

Jack barely closes the door behind him before the words fall out of Dennis’s mouth. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. Anger? No. Embarrassment? Maybe a little. Confusion? Definitely yes on that one. And a weird, squirmy emotion that he’s having trouble identifying.

Jack turns back to face Dennis, his mouth opening, then shutting, like he’s speechless for once. His cheeks are very pink, and Dennis can tell he’d probably rather be literally anywhere else right now.

How had he not pieced this all together, after Jack had pulled that creamer out of his own fridge? It would only be logical for one person to be doing all of those things. And now Dennis remembers that the small gifts in his locker, the way that what he’d needed seemed to just appear in front of him… All of that had faded once he’d started on the night shift.

Dennis slaps a hand over his face. Because Jack could have just given them to Dennis directly. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling more embarrassed now that he’d missed all of the obvious evidence, right in front of him. Jack is still silent, rocking slowly from foot to foot, sort of like the way he does when he’s trying to keep his balance on his prosthesis, but with anxiety pouring off of him.

Dennis sighs. He shakes his head with a short disbelieving laugh and steps up to Jack, taking his hand.

“You were what, like, auditioning for the role ahead of time?”

Jack’s eyes shoot up to his and Dennis knows that Jack understands exactly what he’s asking. To his credit, Jack doesn’t look away, his eyes boring into Dennis’s. He shrugs one shoulder.

“You just… you needed someone to look out for you.” He tilts his head back a little, looking down at Dennis.

Like it had been that simple. Dennis huffs a laugh. Maybe it had been. Hadn’t he wanted, hadn’t he desperately wanted someone to notice him? To be able to see him and understand him, who he truly was? Sure, at one time, he’d hoped that person would have been Robby, but… but it hadn’t been. It had been Jack, all along, watching him, paying attention, remembering.

Dennis looks over at the door to the hallway. There’s no movement out there. He takes another step forward so that he’s close enough for their chests to touch with every exhale. And then he says something that he realizes could be one of the truest things he’s ever said.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Jack’s eyes darken a little and he takes a deep breath. His hand comes up to cup Dennis’s cheek. Dennis knows it won’t go further than that, neither of them willing to risk getting caught while on shift.

But it’s enough, enough of a reassurance between them that nothing’s broken. That whatever this new understanding means for them, they’re ok.

Jack lets his hand fall away and takes a step back. “Now eat your candy bar, kid, you’re pissing everyone else off.”

Dennis clutches the bar in his hand, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes, daddy,” he says quietly, enjoying the sharp intake of breath from Jack.

Jack shakes his head, clearly struggling to keep a smile off his own face. Then he turns and walks out the door, but not before Dennis notices he’s walking a little differently, for a reason entirely separate from his prosthesis.

***

Dennis watches Jack roll the silicone sleeve up his limb, then slide into his prosthesis, getting ready to head in for a swing shift. They’re both sitting on the couch, Jack perched on the edge, Dennis cuddled under a blanket and a curled-up Shadow.

“Are you sure this is ok, me just staying here tonight?”

Jack turns to look at him. “Of course, kid. Mi casa es tu casa. In fact…”

He stands and walks across the hall to the kitchen. Dennis can hear him open a drawer and rummage around. Then he reappears in the living room, holding out a chain with some keys on it.

“Here, kid, I keep forgetting to give these to you.”

Dennis holds out his hand and Jack drops the keys into them. The keys to Jack’s house. For Dennis. His head swims a little. No one’s ever given him keys to their place before. Well, Trinity had, obviously. But not, like, a man. What a good… friend Jack is.

“Ok, I’m heading out. Remember, they eat at dinner time and that’s it.” Jack nods his head toward Shadow. “So don’t fall for their lies at bedtime, especially Nuts.”

As though he’d been summoned, Nutella appears, coming from the direction of Jack’s bedroom. He meows loudly, blinking at the humans, then proceeds into the kitchen.

“Text me if you need anything, call if it’s an emergency. And if you want to read in bed, you know, you can sleep in mine. Got that adjustable frame.”

Jack clears his throat. He’s not looking at Dennis, focusing on zipping up his jacket. Dennis thinks it’s nice that Jack’s willing to let Dennis sleep in his bed, knowing that Dennis does indeed like to read before going to sleep.

“Ok. Thanks again, Jack. Trinity really wanted the place to herself tonight, so…”

“It’s fine. No problem at all.”

Jack slings his bag over his shoulder, then turns and comes back into the living room. He pauses in front of Dennis. Dennis looks up at him, waiting for him to say something, but Jack just bends down a little and kisses Dennis on the lips. It’s a quick peck, but as he pulls back, Dennis snakes his hand around Jack’s neck and tugs him back down for a proper kiss, adding a little tongue.

“Fuck, baby, I have to go to work,” Jack says, his voice cracking a little.

“Have a good shift, daddy.” Dennis smiles up at Jack, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Jack’s still frozen there, looking down at Dennis with a pitiful look on his face, like he’s maybe thirty seconds away from blowing off work to stay and have some fun with Dennis. But then he straightens, shaking his head once, and heads out the door, waving at Dennis over his shoulder.

After a few minutes of silence, Dennis flips on the tv, scrolling through streaming options before settling on the home improvement show he’d been watching with Trinity. He’s on his second episode when his phone buzzes. He rolls his eyes but smiles as he checks the screen.

Jack 😻 [15:47] got a bowel obstruction, wish you were here

Dennis snorts, shaking his head.

Dennis [15:49] i’m doubting that you had to handle it yourself

Jack 😻 [15:50] well, no, but I bet Javadi sure wishes you were here

The rest of the afternoon passes like that, Dennis relaxing for once, watching tv, reading, playing with the cats, and Jack sending him texts about the cases he’s handling and what’s happening in the ED. He doesn’t send anything about Robby and Dennis doesn’t ask.

Dennis sends him a goodnight text when he crawls into bed, sliding under the covers on the side he knows Jack sleeps on. It’s only because that side of the mattress is broken in, the pillow more comfortable, definitely no other reason. Dennis mashes his face in the pillow as he drifts off.

Before he knows it, it’s morning, and he’s got to get up for work. It’s a hellish shift. He loses a patient early, despite spending so long coding the man. He keeps getting splashed with stuff, having to change his scrubs. It’s annoying. Someone drops off sandwiches from a restaurant for lunch, and he’s grateful to be eating something actually good and filling for once.

He helps save a kid whose tonsillectomy goes wrong. He helps try to resuscitate a young girl who’s drowned, but despite all the compressions he does, she still slips away. He’s exhausted, and so close to finishing his shift.

And then Jack walks into the ED. He’s so happy that Jack’s there. He wants to go talk to him, but he can’t get there. It’s like he’s moving through molasses. His brain is having a hard time keeping up with everything.

Why is he covered in blood? Why are there so many patients in the ED? And they just keep coming, leaking blood, screaming out, unconscious, dying, all around him. Everywhere he looks, there’s people who need help, people who are reaching out to him, pulling him down, down, down…

Dennis is sitting up in bed, screaming. Arms wrap around him, pulling him down, and he struggles against them, trying to escape. He won’t get dragged under, he has to get out.

“Dennis! Baby, it’s just me. You were having a nightmare. It’s me.”

Jack’s voice cuts through everything and Dennis stops screaming, stops struggling against Jack’s arms. Then he promptly starts sobbing. He’d been dreaming about his first ED shift, and PittFest. He understands that now, but the dream had felt so real, like he’d been back there, smelling the copper in the air, feeling the sweat soaking his scrubs under his bloody trauma gown.

Jack’s arms are gentle as he arranges Dennis against him, pulling his back to meet Jack’s chest. He brings a hand up to wipe away the tears leaking out of Dennis’s eyes, though it’s a futile enterprise. Jack’s other hand is spread across Dennis’s chest.

“Breathe with me, baby. In. Out. In. Out. Good, that’s really good, baby.”

Gradually, the fear, the horror, start to recede. Dennis feels his heart rate, his respiration slow down. He focuses on taking deep, full breaths, listening to Jack’s breathing behind him.

“What time is it?” Dennis’s voice is hoarse. He wonders how long he’d been screaming.

“Close to 4.”

“Oh, shit, Jack. Did I wake you up right after you fell asleep?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I got in about 30 minutes ago, barely dozed off. I’m just sorry you had a nightmare.”

Dennis exhales a shuddering sigh. “I was back at PittFest.”

“Yeah, you were mumbling a little at first, asking for whole units, talking to Carmen.”

Carmen had been his patient, who Trinity had ended up doing a REBOA on. Dennis still can’t believe that had happened, much less that Carmen had survived the REBOA and reparative surgery. Not everyone who came through the ED had been as lucky. For a few weeks after the shooting, Dennis had tried to keep track of the outcomes for each of the patients he’d seen, but it soon because too difficult to keep up with it, in addition to everything else he had to do.

“Some nights I think I can see every one of their faces, every person I couldn’t save, every patient whose life will be changed in a way I couldn’t fix.”

Dennis tugs on Jack’s arms, pulling them tighter around him. Jack nuzzles his face against Dennis’s hair.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I chose emergency medicine. We see a lot of horrible shit.”

Jack doesn’t respond to that and Dennis wonders if he’d fallen asleep. But a couple minutes later, he starts talking.

“My mom got sick when I was young. Non-Hodgkin lymphoma, started in her lymph nodes but spread across her body. We didn’t know it at the time, just knew she was in pain. The nearest hospital was almost two hours away.”

He pauses and Dennis imagines how that must have weighed on Jack, knowing that his mother was sick, but not being able to do anything about it. His own mother’s death had been sudden. She’d gone to sleep one night and hadn’t woken the next morning. The autopsy had shown a cerebral aneurysm had ruptured. His mother had likely experienced the symptoms, but put off doing anything about it, with four kids, a husband, and a farm to worry about.

“By the time we got the diagnosis, there wasn’t much to be done,” Jack continues. “My dad was working to put food on the table, so I stayed home as much as I could to take care of her, until she died. I missed a lot of school, just about failed out. That’s why I couldn’t go to college right away.”

Dennis feels tears drop from his eyes again, this time for a young Jack who’d had to watch his mother slowly fade away.

“That’s why you went into medicine?” Dennis whispers.

Jack sniffles on his next inhale and blows out a long breath. “I was kind of a fuck-up when I was young. Ran with a bad crowd, got into trouble, all that. I wasn’t doing anything with my life, angry all the time, stuck in a small town. The only way for me to actually get out was to join the fucking Army.” He clears his throat. “Nothing I’d done in my life up to that point mattered, until I saw that I could do something for her, help her feel better, even if it was just giving her pain meds. One of the last things she told me was to get out and go help people. So I did.”

Dennis feels Jack tighten his arms again, almost to the point that it’s hard for Dennis to get a full breath in, but he doesn’t care. He reaches down and grasps at Jack’s thigh, bringing Jack’s leg over his own, his residual limb tucking around his knee. They lie there, wrapped up in each other, carrying an assortment of lingering wounds.

Dennis’s heart feels like it’s been broken into a million pieces, but at the same time, the way Jack’s holding him, the way he’d confided in Dennis… it’s like his heart is slowly mending. Like kintsugi, his heart has cracks in it, but the care Jack takes with him is the spidery veins of gold lacquer, sealing it back together. Slowly their breaths even out and Dennis falls back asleep.

When he wakes again, it takes Dennis a minute to remember what had happened the night before, and then he wants to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of his life. In the light of morning, the intimacy of the previous night no longer feels comfortable, like he’d given too much away, been too emotional, and now Jack will probably not want anything to do with him.

Dennis tries to wiggle out of Jack’s grip. They’re still spooning, Jack practically pinning Dennis to the mattress with his body. Jack grunts behind him, pulling Dennis’s back against his chest and Dennis’s ass against Jack’s… very hard morning wood. A soft involuntary moan slips out of Dennis’s mouth.

“Morning, baby,” Jack growls, as though it’s perfectly normal to wake up in a bed with your friend and sometimes sexual partner after you’ve just bared your souls to each other in the middle of the night.

“Good morning,” Dennis responds, cringing at the tone of his voice, how prim it sounds.

Jack doesn’t seem to be put off by it, though, if the roll of his hips is any indication. “Mmmm, can I touch you, baby?”

Jack’s question pushes everything else out of Dennis’s mind and the only thing that matters is Jack putting his hands – or any part of his body, really – on Dennis’s body. He nods, hoping that’ll be good enough.

It is.

Jack gets his fingers under Dennis’s waistband and slowly pushes his athletic shorts down off his hips, down to his knees. Then his hand comes around Dennis’s hip to cup his cunt, Jack’s middle finger pressing between his folds.

“So wet,” Jack moans softly in Dennis’s ear.

Dennis feels his face heat up. He’s always a little wet and hard in the mornings, but waking up next to Jack seems to have supercharged him. Jack starts stroking his finger along the side of Dennis’s dick. Dennis twitches his hips as blood redirects to his cock. Jack moves off his dick to slide two fingers through the slick now spilling out of Dennis’s cunt.

“Can you spread your legs for just a second, baby?”

Dennis does, though he can’t move them very far, with his shorts still bunched at his knees. That concern fades away when he feels the head of Jack’s hard cock start slowly pushing its way between Dennis’s thighs. Using Dennis’s slick, Jack starts thrusting, the head of his dick sliding up into Dennis’s folds, bumping into Dennis’s cock.

It’s so good, but it’s not quite enough. Dennis can’t help the whine he makes in the back of his throat.

“I know, I know, baby. Your cock needs some more attention from daddy, doesn’t it?” Jack murmurs in his ear.

He reaches his hand from underneath Dennis and settles it between Dennis’s legs, stroking and tugging on Dennis’s dick, using more of his slick to smooth the way. The combination of direct pressure on his cock and the hot, thick column of Jack’s cock thrusting through his folds pulls a low moan out of him. He starts babbling as he squeezes his thighs together to tighten the channel for Jack to thrust into.

“Please, daddy, please, make me come, I’ll be good, daddy, please.”

Jack’s hips speed up and his voice is low and raspy, right in Dennis’s ear. “I know you will, baby. You’re such a good boy for me, take my cock so well.”

Dennis is so close, his folds making wet noises every time Jack’s dick pushes against them. Jack brings his hand up and starts twisting at one of Dennis’s nipples and Dennis throws his hand back to clutch at Jack’s thigh, urging him closer, faster. With his next thrust, the angle of Jack’s cock shifts just a little so that the head of it catches on the entrance of Dennis’s cunt.

That contact, the feeling of Jack’s thick cock slipping inside him just a little, along with the pinching of his nipple, the tugging on his growth, sends Dennis over the edge. He squeezes his thighs together even tighter, scratches lines into Jack’s thighs. Jack groans into Dennis’s hair as his cock starts pulsing ropes of cum onto Dennis’s folds.

Dennis moans when he feels Jack’s cum spilling between his legs. Jack’s still squeezing his nipple, still stroking along his cock. He wonders if he’ll be able to come again. He’s willing to give it a try. Jack grunts behind him, still rocking his hips to drag his softening cock between Dennis’s folds.

“You got another one for me, baby? You gonna be a good boy for your daddy?”

“Oh god,” Dennis mutters, his head falling back against Jack’s.

Jack keeps touching his body, stroking, tugging, squeezing. With the added wetness from Jack’s cum, everything feels more sensitive. Dennis can feel himself cresting another wave. He can get there, he knows he can. Jack leaves his nipples alone to move both hands between Dennis’s legs. With one, he continues stroking Dennis’s cock, and with the other, he starts pushing a finger inside Dennis’s cunt. It only takes two fingers before Dennis is screaming, his full body writhing through another orgasm.

“See? I knew you could do it, baby.” Jack’s voice is wrecked, like he’s the one who’d just come a second time. “Fuck, daddy’s so proud, you did so well for me.”

Jack moves his hands from between Dennis’s legs, mindful of overstimulation. He slowly rubs Dennis’s stomach, like he’s one of the cats, and damn if Dennis doesn’t have the urge to purr. Jack’s cock is still between Dennis’s thighs, just about fully soft now. As their breathing and heart rate slow down, Dennis feels a different type of intimacy from the night before, different than they’ve had before.

It’s not that they haven’t been naked together, or haven’t gotten off together. But the way Jack knows exactly how to touch Dennis’s body, the way he offers his own body to Dennis… Dennis hasn’t had anything like this before. He doesn’t feel a need to present himself in a certain way. Jack seems to like him just as he is.

“Well,” Jack says, his voice still a little hoarse. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

It’s not even that funny, but Dennis dissolves into giggles, laughing until his sides hurt, Jack joining him. After such an emotional night, it’s a release he’d needed. Laughing out loud, wrapped up in Jack’s arms, he can’t decide whether he likes this new intimacy or the orgasms better.

Chapter Text

“So the trick here,” Jack says, waving the tongs for emphasis, “is to make sure we sear all the sides of the steak before it goes into the oven. That’s why we need the cast iron to get so hot. Ok, Trin, now.”

Jack nods at Trinity and she drops the cube of butter on the heated cast iron. It immediately starts melting and sizzling.

“Den, you ready with the timer?”

Dennis nods, his phone out in his hand. Jack drops the steaks into the pan on one side and Dennis starts the countdown. They do it for the front and back of the steaks, and then the sides. Then Jack lays the meat back down and puts the whole pan in the oven.

“Ok, that’ll be a couple minutes.”

Jack takes off the oven mitts. The washing machine beeps.

“Oh, I’ll get that,” Jack says, hurrying out of the kitchen.

Trinity watches him go. “This is insane, you know. It’s like having a maid service, but who’s also your boss.”

Dennis shrugs. He can’t exactly explain to Trinity that it’s sort of part of the power dynamic of their relationship, which isn’t actually a relationship. They’re just friends who fuck sometimes. And one friend seems to really get off on doing literally anything for the other friend.

Sometimes Dennis has a hard time himself wrapping his head around what’s going on between the two of them. He worries that Jack will get bored of him or will find someone else to take care of. He desperately wants to ask Jack about what his relationship with his wife had been like – which is to say, whether it had been like this – but he’s also a little terrified to hear about it. He’s already jealous of a dead woman, and he feels bad enough about that.

When he thinks about how Jack must have loved and cherished Liz, cooking for her, doing her laundry, bathing her… doing all the things he does for Dennis, his gut twists and he feels a little nauseated. From every story Jack has shared, Liz sounds like she’s been a wonderful person, strong, ambitious. But she’d had Jack for years, all to herself, and Dennis can’t help hating her a little bit for it.

“Ok.” Jack re-emerges from the hallway. “Towels are in the dryer, and we should just be about ready to pull the steaks out.”

The steaks are quite good, coupled with the mashed potatoes and sauteed green beans they’d made. The three of them joke as they eat, comfortable enough with each other to take more personal digs.

“So what was it like getting used to indoor plumbing, Abbot?” Trinity’s eyes are wide and innocent as she takes a sip from her water glass.

“You know, I actually didn’t live in a house with a flushable toilet until I was 15. Just had a hole in the ground out back.”

Trinity’s hand freezes on its way to set her glass back on the table. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, no,” Jack says, scooping some mashed potatoes on his fork. “I grew up in West Virginia. Man, I remember moving into that house like it was yesterday. First time I ever saw a floor that wasn’t made out of dirt.”

“You suck, Abbot, I actually believed you!”

Trinity leans over and punches him in the arm. Dennis starts giggling and Jack smirks at them.

“You wanna make fun of me being old, Trinity, trust me, I can fire back. Just show me your home row typing.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Exactly.” Jack wipes his mouth with his napkin and moves to stand up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dennis says, pushing on Jack’s shoulder as he gets up himself.

Trinity starts clearing dishes away and Dennis bends over to speak into Jack’s ear.

“You’ve done enough today and don’t think I haven’t noticed your leg is sore. Go sit your ass on the couch and rest it for a bit.”

Jack looks up at him, an unreadable look in his eyes. But he gives Dennis that lopsided smile and nods.

“Ok, baby,” he murmurs, low enough that Trinity can’t hear.

Dennis watches Jack leave the kitchen, his limp slightly more pronounced. He shakes his head. He needs to convince Jack to bring over a set of crutches if he’s going to keep spending time here. He finishes clearing the table and works with Trinity to rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

“Sooooo….” Trinity looks at Dennis expectantly.

“Yeah?” He has no idea what she’s leading up to.

“He’s not wearing his wedding ring,” she hisses at him.

Dennis wrinkles his nose. He hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. Sometimes Jack takes the ring off over a long weekend at home, but it goes back on for work. He hadn’t really thought about it today. Just distracted by other parts of Jack’s body, probably. He shrugs, thinking of the possible reasons Jack isn't wearing it.

“Ok, well, he’s probably having it cleaned or something.” 

“Oh, my god, Dennis, you are so fucking obtuse.”

“Hey!”

She leans against the counter and folds her arms. “Are you seriously telling me that your obvious intimacy and sexual tension is in no way related to the fact that Abbot, a widower, is no longer wearing his wedding ring?”

It takes a minute for Dennis to parse her question before he can respond. “Yes?”

“Ugh, you are impossible. Fine, fine, live in denial, whatever.”

“Trinity. We’re just friends,” Dennis reminds her, drying his hands on the dish towel.

“Right. Just friends. Come on, man, it's painfully obvious you two have explored each other’s naked bodies. You’re practically undressing each other with your eyes whenever you're in the same room. And you’re lucky I like you both, because ew.”

Dennis shakes his head. “You’re wrong. About the wedding ring related to me thing, not, uh, about the other thing.”

“Duh." She rolls her eyes. "Look, man. I’ve said it before – I think Abbot’s a good guy. He seems to treat you a hell of a lot better than Robby did. Just… just be careful, yeah? I don’t… want to see you get hurt again.”

She mumbles the last few words, but Dennis gets it. He won’t make a big deal about it.

“Thanks, Trin.”

“Never speak of this again and we’re good.”

“Deal.”

***

It happens on the shift of a pretty ordinary Wednesday.

Shen’s working the full overnight with Ellis off. Dennis bounces his cases and decision-making off Najeeb most of the night, enjoying their light sparring about comic media and superhero tropes. They get a range of trauma cases: two MVCs, a STEMI, someone doing some ill-advised late night home renovations who’d lost a couple fingers to a circular saw.

Then Paris and Gallagher bring in an older woman in respiratory distress, and one look tells Dennis all he needs to know. It’s time.

Mrs. Balducci is barely conscious, her breathing very slow, her heart rate slower. Her oldest daughter, Marcella, who Dennis has only met once, but who Pierce seems to know a lot better, comes in with her. Marcella’s face is kind of crumpled, but resigned, as she holds her mother’s hand.

Everyone knows what this is.

Paris and Gallagher wheel Mrs. Balducci into Trauma Two, where Jack’s waiting, Dennis and Pierce following the procession. After the gurney transfer, Allie hooks her up to monitors. Her sats are dropping. Paris had already given her a 50 of fent in the rig, but Jack nods at Allie to push another 50 when Mrs. Balducci’s weak voice requests it.

The last thing that passes her lips is the name, “Mort.” She closes her eyes. The oxygen mask still hisses, the monitors still beep intermittently, until there’s just one long beep. Asystole.

They know that Mrs. Balducci has a POLST, that she hadn’t wanted any life-saving measures. Dennis wonders why Marcella had even bothered to call an ambulance, but thinks maybe it’s the comfort of knowing you’d done everything you could, even if you couldn’t forestall the inevitable.

Paris and Gallagher stay for a minute after Darlene shuts off the monitors, then head back out. The rest of the ED staff in the trauma bay observe several moments of silence. Dennis thinks of the times he’s seen Mrs. Balducci in the months since he’d started the night shift. He thinks about how this will be the last time.

Marcella sniffles a little and gives Pierce a hug. They give her the information for the social worker, a grief support group. Darlene and Allie tell her that they’ll clean up Mrs. Balducci’s body and move it to the viewing room, in case Marcella wants to bring her partner tomorrow to pay their respects, her siblings, their kids.

When Jack finds Dennis up on the roof later, he’s shivering a little in the breeze, pretending that he’s not devastated.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jack says softly, the isolation of the roof enough to break through their usual fence between private and professional.

Dennis surrenders to the urge to turn into Jack, winding his arms around his neck as he cries. Jack smooths a hand over Dennis’s back, whispering soothing words, his other hand cupping the back of Dennis’s neck. He’s like a life preserver in a rough sea, a hiding place from the heartache of loss.

“I know it hurts, kid, but there are other patients. We need to get back down there.”

Dennis nods, sniffling, stepping away. But then he’s hit with another wave of emotion, and “Daddy,” falls out of his mouth, the word cracking as Dennis buries his face against Jack’s chest.

And Jack lets him, lets Dennis fall apart, lets him get tears and snot all over his scrub top. He holds Dennis, swaying a little, like he’s rocking him. After a couple minutes, Dennis pulls back again, hiccupping, feeling like he can control himself.

“Ok?” Jack asks softly, brushing some hair off Dennis’s forehead.

Dennis nods. “Thanks, daddy,” he whispers, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

In the dark night, it’s hard to see Jack’s eyes, but Dennis thinks there’s a glimmer there, something like satisfaction.

“Let’s get back downstairs, kid. Wash your face. Drink some Gatorade. Need to keep up your electrolytes.”

“Oh, I don’t have –  ”

Jack waves his hand as he holds open the door to the stairwell. “No worries, baby. Got some in my locker.”

Dennis shakes his head as they walk toward the elevator. He should have known Jack would take care of everything.

***

Dennis is stirring the taco meat in the skillet while Jack scrapes his teeth along the side of Dennis's neck, his hand on the outside of Dennis's jeans, just cupping his cunt.

“What do you think about anal?” Dennis asks, voicing a fantasy that he’s been thinking about more and more each time he touches himself at home, alone in his own bed.

He feels the rumbling groan from Jack against his skin and Jack pulls off his neck.

“That what you want, baby?” he asks. “You want daddy to fuck your pretty hole?”

“Oh god,” Dennis mumbles, pressing his body back against Jack's. “Please, yes.”

“Ok, baby,” Jack murmurs, nibbling on Dennis’s earlobe. “I can do that.”

Dennis moves to turn off the stove.

“Uh uh, after we eat.”

Dennis lets out a whine.

“You gonna listen to your daddy?” Jack pokes Dennis’s side and he squirms a little.

Dennis sighs. “Yes.”

Now that he knows Jack’s willing to do it, all he wants is to tear his clothes off and get Jack inside him. He’s been using small toys in his ass for a while, but never had anything bigger back there. Jack’s pushed a whole finger inside him before, but Dennis always manages to come before they get any further.

Jack presses his hips against Dennis’s ass and Dennis can feel that Jack’s dick is semi-hard. He shivers as Jack grips his hip, his mouth returning to nibbling on his neck.

“First,” Jack says, his voice low, “we’re going to eat this food we’ve prepared. Then, I’m going to give you a bath and make sure you’re nice and clean. After that, I’m going to spread you out on the bed and open you up with my fingers, eat you out a little.”

“Oh god,” Dennis chokes out, pushing his hips back against Jack’s again, blood thickening his cock in his underwear.

“And then, baby, when you’re good and ready,” Jack moves his mouth up to his ear and whispers right into it, “I’m gonna fuck your ass with my cock until you're seeing stars.”

“Christ Jesus on a snowy morning,” Dennis mutters.

Sweat is already beading along the back of his neck. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through eating a whole fucking meal, not to mention the rest of it, before he can feel Jack’s thick cock inside him. For his part, Jack seems barely affected by the scene he’s just described. The only signs that he’s feeling something are the flushed color on his cheeks and the rod of steel in his pants.

Dennis can barely do more than stand there as Jack scoops the taco meat into a bowl, warms up the tortillas, starts pulling lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, salsa, out of the fridge. He just watches as Jack makes several tacos and sets them on a plate. Dennis follows him to the table. He sits, reaching for a taco, but Jack gently pushes his hand away.

And Dennis’s brain switches to just white noise as Jack slowly lifts a taco to his mouth, murmuring low words of praise as Dennis takes one bite and then another. He can’t remember the last time he was literally fucking fed actual food, probably not since he was a baby. He sits there as Jack feeds him the entire taco, but he holds up a hand when Jack goes to grab another.

“I can do it.” He won’t think about the way that his voice sounds like a whine, like the protest of a child.

“I know you can, baby,” Jack says, smiling at him. “Sorry, I just like taking care of you so much.”

“Yeah, you’re a good daddy.” It comes out barely above a whisper, Dennis nearly as surprised as Jack to hear it.

Jack’s eyes go so dark. Dennis watches it happen in real time. He sucks in a breath and drops his eyes to the plate. He distracts himself with eating another taco, and Jack does the same. They finish in silence, but it’s charged, the air crackling between them.

They’ve never talked about this dynamic they’ve been leaning into more and more each time they’re together. Dennis knows – Jack tells him all the time – that the other man likes taking care of him. He’s always making sure Dennis has enough water, is getting enough sleep, has clean clothes to wear and clean sheets on his bed.

But Dennis isn’t quite sure what Jack’s getting out of it; Dennis is rarely allowed to do anything for Jack. He feels like a greedy creature who just takes and takes, and it’s even worse than that because he wants it. He wants everything that Jack gives him. Sometimes he even wonders what it would be like to have Jack make all his tiny, annoying decisions: what to wear, what to eat, what to do on his days off. And he thinks there must be something wrong with him, for wanting that.

But then he sees the glowing look in Jack’s eyes when he hands Dennis a bottle of water when he’s thirsty, or a sweater when he hadn’t even realized he’s cold, and thinks that it must be ok, if Jack’s looking at him like that.

“Ok, baby, let’s get you into the tub.”

Jack walks him into the bathroom and leans over to turn on the tap. When it’s at the right temperature, he plugs the drain and drops a vanilla bath bomb into rising water. After he’s pulled off his clothes, Dennis steps into the tub and sinks down with a contented sigh. Jack kneels next to the tub and grabs a washcloth.

Jack’s given him a bath before, more than once, but he’s usually just focused on actually getting Dennis clean. This time feels different. Jack runs the washcloth over his skin, sure, but he’s also dragging his fingers across Dennis’s nipples, between his legs. He encourages Dennis onto his knees and to lean forward as Jack presses his finger to Dennis’s rim. Dennis can’t decide whether to feel embarrassed or not at the intimate cleaning, but the way Jack’s breathing’s gone heavy decides for him.

“Up,” Jack mutters, pulling the plug out of the drain.

He dries Dennis off in silence, rubbing his skin with a fluffy towel. Then he leads Dennis into the bedroom. It’s been a while since Dennis has actually slept in the guest room. His tablet is charging on the bedside table here, a few changes of clothes in the dresser.

Jack taps Dennis’s shoulder and he sits on the bed, using his arms to pull himself into the middle.

“On your belly, baby,” Jack says as he sits down and removes his prosthesis, though he keeps on his t-shirt and sweatpants.

Dennis turns over, goosebumps of anticipation rippling across his skin. He lays his cheek on the bedspread and tries to calm his breathing.

“Fuck, that’s a perfect ass,” Jack says from behind him.

Dennis feels the bed dip as Jack walks on his knees up the mattress to settle between Dennis’s legs. He runs his calloused hands up and down the inside of Dennis’s thighs. Dennis takes that to mean Jack wants his legs farther apart, so he spreads his thighs a little more. Then Jack reaches over him to grab a couple pillows, which get shoved under his hips to prop his ass up.

The next sensation is a glob of spit landing at the top of his crease and he moans as Jack runs his fingers through it, down to his rim. Jack spends the next few minutes swirling his finger around Dennis’s rim, before dipping down to lick a thick stripe across it.

“Fuck,” Dennis says into the otherwise silent room.

“You doing ok, baby?” Jack asks as he keeps petting at Dennis’s hole.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, feels good,” Dennis responds as Jack starts to push just his fingertip into the ring of muscle.

Slowly enough to drive Dennis out of his mind, Jack opens him up, using his tongue, then one finger, then two, pushing into his hole. After what feels like hours of delicious torture, Jack gets up. Dennis lets out a whine of protest.

“Hold on, baby, Gotta get some lube.”

Jack leans over and opens his bedside table drawer, then pulls out the half-gone tube, tossing it on the bed. Dennis hears some rustling as Jack undresses. Then he resumes his position between Dennis’s legs, plunging two fingers back into Dennis’s hole, slick with the lube. After he’s got three fingers easily moving in and out, Dennis reaches behind himself to swat at Jack’s wrist.

“That’s enough, daddy, want your dick inside me,” Dennis says, his words starting to slur together.

He’s wet, his own dick rubbing against the pillow. He wonders if he could come just from the friction against the pillowcase. Jack hasn’t even touched his cunt or his cock, but he’s so hard already.

Jack pulls his fingers out and leans down to whisper next to Dennis’s ear. “Sure you’re ready, baby?”

Dennis nods frantically. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, daddy, please.”

Jack chuckles gruffly and slaps Dennis’s ass. “Ok, baby, daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Dennis lets out a loud moan at the feeling of the tip of Jack’s dick against his hole, which turns into a whine when the feeling disappears. He’s suddenly roughly turned over onto his back, and moans again at the sight of Jack hovering above him, his thick cock poised to push in.

“Need to see you, baby,” Jack grunts as his eyes sweep over Dennis’s face, then down between his legs.

Jack grabs the back of one of Dennis’s thighs and pushes it up. Dennis gets with the program, wrapping his hands around his thighs and bringing them back so his hips rise even more. Jack takes hold of his cock and sets it again at Dennis’s hole and slowly, so fucking slowly, thrusts inside Dennis.

Something shifts in Dennis as Jack pushes all the way inside him. But it’s not the way Jack’s thick cock is rearranging his organs, or how the muscles in his thighs are straining as Jack practically folds him in half.

It's the way Jack's looking at him, his eyes skating over Dennis's face, taking in every slight change in his expression, like he's carefully watching for any hint of pain, every sign of pleasure. Like Dennis is precious, is worth the time, the effort to truly know.

But the shift isn't even the look, not really. It's the sudden realization that Dennis has seen that look on Jack's face before. In fact, he's seen it over and over, going back weeks, maybe even months. He’d just never truly understood what it had meant until now.

It exhilarates him. It terrifies him. It makes him feel unworthy. How could Jack – possibly the best man Dennis has ever known – see him as someone deserving of such focus, such devotion?

Dennis comes back to his body as he feels Jack start to make small thrusts in and out of his hole.

“So beautiful, baby,” Jack murmurs, smoothing Dennis's hair off his forehead. “Love the way you take my cock.”

“Never,” Dennis swallows, finding words difficult. “Never thought it’d feel this good.”

Jack pauses above him, his eyes going wide as he stares down at Dennis. “Baby… is this your first time having a cock in your ass?”

Dennis isn’t sure whether he should admit the truth or not, but it’s not like Jack would be disappointed. Right? He’d always wondered what anal sex would feel like, if it’d still feel good without a prostate. He knows now that it feels fucking amazing, but he wonders how Jack will react to being Dennis's first.

“Um… yes?” He looks away from Jack before returning his eyes to meet Jack’s gaze.

He does not seem upset by this news.

“Fuck, baby,” Jack groans, and Dennis watches as his eyes roll back a little.

Jack starts thrusting again, faster this time, almost like he’s not aware he’s doing it, like he’s losing control. He grips Dennis’s hips hard, and the sound of their skin slapping together, Jack’s balls hitting Dennis’s ass, sticky with lube and Dennis’s slick leaking down, fills the room.

Jack squeezes his eyes shut, then seems to force them back open, scanning over Dennis’s face again. His expression is sort of pinched, like he’s in pain. But there’s also a deep look of satisfaction.

“My hole, isn’t it, baby?” Jack grinds out, his voice lower than Dennis has ever heard it before, filled with gravel. “No one else has been inside this goddamn perfect hole before?”

Dennis gulps. “No, daddy, just you.”

Jack lets out a loud growl and plunges his dick into Dennis’s hole, bottoming out. Then he pulls up on his knees and starts stroking Dennis’s cock, which is pushing out of his folds. Dennis leans up on his elbows to watch, and he lets out a moan when Jack’s fingers swirl around the head of his cock.

“Say it, baby,” Jack says, his voice cracking. “Tell me it’s my hole.”

Dennis moans again. “It’s yours, daddy. It’s your hole. Fuck!”

Both of Jack’s hands are now between Dennis’s legs, one continuing to stroke and tug at his dick, the other gripping the juncture of his thigh as Jack uses his thumb to play against the entrance to Dennis’s cunt.

“Can you, can you put your fingers inside me?” Dennis asks, pushing his own hips back against Jack’s.

His ass is so full and he loves the way that Jack’s cock is tugging at his rim. But he needs more. He can feel the pressure building between his legs, but he needs something else to get there. He has a fleeting thought that his daddy will know exactly what he needs.

Dennis screams as Jack thrusts two fingers into his cunt, pushing up hard against that spot on his wall. He lets his legs fall down around Jack’s waist, hooking his heels around his back. The fullness in his ass, the way Jack’s squeezing his dick, the way his fingers are driving into his cunt… it’s all too much and Dennis shouts as he feels a surge of wetness flood between his legs.

“Wha?” He struggles back up on his elbows, looking down between his legs.

Jack is having an extremely positive reaction to Dennis squirting again, incoherent words falling out of his mouth in a rush. He pounds into Dennis’s ass one more time, then he’s coming with a loud groan, probably leaving bruises from how tightly he’s now gripping Dennis’s thighs to pull them against his own hips. Dennis moans at the idea of seeing those bruises in the mirror later.

Jack falls forward, then rolls to the side, pulling Dennis along with him. His cock is still inside Dennis and Dennis pulses the muscles around his rim. He’s exhausted but also feels like he’s floating somewhere above the clouds. Jack reaches a hand over and gently strokes Dennis’s cheek.

“Mine,” he whispers, then freezes, like he hadn’t meant to say the word out loud.

Dennis feels his heart skip when he understands that Jack’s not saying it as something hot to say during sex, or as part of their dynamic. He means… he means just Dennis, like Jack’s claiming him.

Dennis lets his eyes drift closed. He forces his breathing to slow. He can’t face Jack right now. He can’t face anything right now. He feels like he’s been cracked open, like he’s being suffocated by Jack, the man’s touch, voice, words, filling every empty space inside of Dennis.

It terrifies him how much he craves that feeling, how much he’s desperate for more, to feel Jack in each breath he takes.

He’s dimly aware of Jack pulling out of his ass, the sound of Jack transferring to his chair, wheeling out of the room, then back, the feel of a warm washcloth wiping him down. He eventually drifts off to sleep, the world hazy around him.

When Dennis opens his eyes again, the room is dark. Jack is in the bed next to him, snoring softly. Their bodies are close together, but not quite touching. Dennis slowly creeps out of bed, eyeing the clock. It’s not even 10:00 yet, but it feels like the middle of the night.

He feels guilty for just leaving Jack alone, especially after how earth-shattering the sex had been. Dennis snorts as he tiptoes down the hallway. Calling it “sex” feels like the understatement of the year. He can still feel Jack pushing into his ass as he falls onto the bus seat, his head resting against the cold window.

When he thinks about what they’d done, how it had felt… the sound of “mine” falling out of Jack’s lips, Dennis has to squeeze his eyes closed to keep the tears from falling. He is so fucked and he has no idea what to do about it.

***

“Trinity!” Dennis calls out as he closes the door to the apartment behind him.

She comes running out of her room. “Oh my god, what’s wrong? Is someone dead? Why didn’t you text me?”

Dennis sits down on the couch and stares blankly ahead. “I’m in love with him.”

Trinity stares at him in confusion. “Is this, um, is this new information for you, Huckleberry?”

He looks up at her. “What? What do you mean?”

She scratches the back of her neck and comes to sit next to him on the couch. “I mean, yeah, I think you’ve been in love with him for a while.”

Dennis shakes his head. “No, no, this is a new feeling for me. I didn’t realize. I didn’t notice until today.”

He stands and starts pacing the length of the living room. “Oh my god, what am I going to do?”

“Why are we freaking out right now? I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.”

Dennis freezes in the middle of the room and turns to face her. “No, he doesn’t. He can’t.”

His mind goes back to the look in Jack’s eyes as he’d slowly fed him, as he’d softly run a washcloth over his skin in the bath, as he’d hovered over Dennis, pushing his thick cock inside him, gentle and urgent at the same time. Dennis shakes his head. Jack can’t be in love with him. There’s no way.

Dennis would never deserve it.

He scrubs a hand over his face and clings to desperate threads of thoughts. “I mean, he’s never said he does. Besides, why would he love me? I’m fucking nobody. The last person he loved was Liz, and she was fucking perfect.”

“Huckleberry, take a breath, you’re scaring me.”

Dennis returns to the couch. “I’m scaring myself,” he admits.

He flops back onto the cushions. “I’ve never felt this way, not even about Robby. I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Please take yourself to the bathroom, then.”

Dennis huffs. “You can’t at least be a little sympathetic about this?”

Trinity snorts. “About what? Oh, no, Dennis, you poor thing, you’ve got a hot older man who clearly would do anything for you, showing you how much he loves you all the time. Give me a fucking break, dude.”

“That’s not… that’s not what’s going on.”

“Oh, please,” Trinity says. “I bet that man would murder someone for you and hide the body without a second thought.”

Dennis is a little ashamed at the shiver that runs down his spine at that idea. There’s no way he’d actually want Jack to hurt anyone on his behalf, but, he has to admit, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that Jack would do it, and that makes Dennis feel a little lightheaded.

Which is a great example of exactly why Dennis is a terrible person for Jack to love. He’s a deviant, a mess. He’s not a good person, not like Liz.

“Well, I have to end it,” he says into the living room, making the decision as he says it.

“You are the stupidest person I have ever met.”

“Trinity!”

“I mean, fine, sure, make your own decisions, whatever. But maybe try having a conversation with Abbot before you go blowing this up. I think he’ll have some… interesting things to say about it.”

Dennis huffs. “I hate that you’re right. But you’re right.”

“Yeah, I usually am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to my lesbian porn that you interrupted.”

“Ew, gross, Trinity.”

“Hey, if I have to hear about your Man Sex troubles, it’s only fair.”

***

It’s not until he’s about to step onto the bus that Dennis remembers he’s left his phone at Jack’s. Now he can’t text the man to let him know he’s coming back, even if he wants to. He doesn’t think it’s midnight yet, so Jack’s probably awake again. His stomach turns over and over the whole way there. He’s grateful for the walk from the bus stop to Jack’s house. It gives him a little more time to figure out what he’s going to say.

As he keys open the front door, he still has no fucking clue.

Jack’s in the living room when he walks in. He’s sitting on the couch, reading, his glasses perched on his nose. With the magnification from the lenses, it’s easy for Dennis to notice that his eyes are rimmed in red. He swallows.

“Hey, kid.” Jack’s voice sounds rough.

“Hi,” Dennis says, wincing when his voice cracks. He tries again. “We need to talk.”

Jack just watches him as Dennis walks around to sit on the other end of the couch. It feels like there’s an ocean between them. Dennis clears his throat and opens his mouth to talk, but Jack rushes in.

“I am so sorry, baby, I know, it was too intense, it was too much, I’m too much, I’m so sorry, tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, I promise I – ”

Dennis turns to him and holds up a hand. Jack immediately stops talking, his lips clamped together.

“It’s not… it wasn’t…” Dennis swallows. “It wasn’t too much. It was perfect.” He closes his eyes as his voice cracks again. “But I don’t deserve it. Or you,” he whispers.

“What?” Jack asks, a shocked look on his face when Dennis gathers up the courage to look at him. “Dennis. Baby. What are you saying?”

Dennis hiccups, embarrassed that he’s let himself get this worked up, fall apart so badly, in front of Jack.

“I need to end this.” Another hiccup. “Because… because when you figure out that I’m not worth all this…” he gestures his hands around to encompass the two of them but also the room around them, the house, the whole world, maybe. His last few words are quiet. “You’ll leave me. And it’ll kill me.”

Jack’s eyes go wider with surprise, and maybe horror. Dennis squeezes his own shut. He should have expected that response, that Jack would find him horrifying. He rises from the couch and heads to the door, not caring about his phone. He can worry about that later.

Jack’s up off the couch and on his crutches faster than Dennis would have expected, moving over to the door and slapping his hand over it, preventing Dennis from leaving.

“No, baby, no. I won’t let you go without…” Dennis looks up at Jack, afraid to see the expression on his face. It’s twisted, desperate. “I won’t let you go.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Why, Jack?” He cringes at the whiney tone. “What could you possibly see in me? Besides the fact that everything I touch turns to shit. That I slept with my boss – hell, I slept with your best friend! How can you not see all my shitty mistakes every time you look at me?”

Dennis can’t hold back the tears slipping down now. He’s heard it from so many people: his father, his brothers, his first boyfriend, the handful of hook-ups he’s had. Even Robby had shown him, if not through words, then through action, what a black hole of need he is, how clingy.

Unlovable.

He looks up when Jack gently takes Dennis’s hand in his, slowly stroking his thumb over the back of Dennis’s hand as he balances on his crutches.

“When I look at you…” Jack’s voice cracks, too. It sounds like he’s on the verge of tears himself. “I…I see a beautiful boy, with a heart so big and a mind so sharp. Den, when I look at you…I don’t see your mistakes. I just see…my future.”

Dennis closes his eyes and shakes his head again. He doesn’t deserve this kindness, doesn’t deserve Jack.

“If you really want to end this,” Jack takes a deep breath, which comes out shaky. “I’ll…I’ll let you go. But, please, please at least listen to me for a minute.”

Dennis brings his eyes back up to meet Jack’s. Jack hesitantly reaches out with the hand not holding Dennis’s and brings it up to cup Dennis’s cheek.

“You are such a good doctor, so caring and compassionate. You fight for your patients, and you are always trying to do better. You work on the street team, you care about so many people. Look at your friendship with Trinity, how much you care about her, and she cares about you. You are a good person, baby. Please believe me when I say that.”

Dennis’s breath catches. Jack’s eyes are wide and soft. Dennis shakes his head. He really doesn’t think Jack understands. He pulls away and walks back into the living room.

“You don’t get it. I’m never going to be as good as her. She was such a good person, perfect for you. But me? I’m nothing.”

Dennis can hear Jack follow him, the impact of the crutches hitting the floor. “Wait, who are you talking about?”

Dennis huffs in frustration and turns back to face him. “Liz! Your wife! Your perfect fucking wife who probably was the perfect other half for you.” He feels bad for saying it, but it’s the truth.

Jack lets out a sound of disbelief. “Liz never... Dennis, she never let me do shit like, like… like the things we do.” Jack swallows loudly. “I mean, I loved her, I really did, Den. She was a great partner, a great wife. But she always wanted things to be equal between us.” He sighs. “I won’t go into detail, but please believe me when I say, you are the first partner who’s ever let me do this. Who hasn’t been freaked out by it.”

Jack drops back onto the couch, leaning his crutches against the end table. Dennis doesn’t know what to think as his mental image of Liz starts to morph away from perfect goddess into… ordinary person?

The look on Jack’s face is miserable. “I’ve always been afraid I’m too much, too overbearing, too intense.” It’s like he’s reliving every rejection he’s ever had. Dennis feels his heart break even more.

“I’ve spent so long thinking there was something wrong with me, something broken, because I just wanted to find someone to… to take care of, do everything for, be their everything.” He pauses and his eyes come up to meet Dennis’s. “And then I found you, this perfect, precious boy.”

Dennis sniffles, shaking his head. He walks over to stand in front of Jack.

“No, daddy, no. You’re the perfect one. You take such good care of me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He rests his hands on Jack’s shoulders, desperate for the man to hear him, understand him.

Jack leans his forehead against Dennis’s legs and takes a shuddering breath. “Wrong way around, baby. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Dennis’s mind is spinning. What Jack is saying… his fears about being too much echo Dennis’s own. He lets out a giggle that verges on hysterical.

Can he really have this? Can he have Jack?

He’d been ready to end this, so convinced Jack could do better than him, find someone better. But maybe he can just trust Jack and believe that he wants Dennis, mistakes and all. He groans inwardly at how much Trinity will be gloating.

Dennis looks down at Jack, who’s now anxiously staring back up at him. Dennis gently pushes Jack to sit back into the cushions and climbs into his lap, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck.

“Daddy, it’s not too much for me. You’re not too much,” Dennis murmurs into the side of his neck. “If anything, it’s not enough.”

Jack inhales sharply, and his arms come up around Dennis’s back. “Yeah?” he asks, still sounding uncertain.

Dennis pulls back so he can look into Jack’s eyes. “It feels like, my whole life, I’ve wished and wished for someone who could take care of me as good as you can. People have always told me I’m too much, too clingy, too desperate.” He shrugs and takes a shaky breath. “Guess I just needed to wait until my daddy found me.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks again, breathing hard, hope threading through his voice.

His eyes drop to Dennis’s lips. Dennis makes the first move, sealing his mouth over Jack’s, yielding when Jack pushes his tongue into Dennis’s mouth. They both moan into it, Dennis rolling his hips against Jack’s, just for the feel of it.

When they break the kiss, Dennis leans back again so he can see Jack’s face when he says, “I love you, daddy.”

“Oh, fuck, baby, I love you, too.”

And then Jack’s pressing kisses all over Dennis’s face, one hand tangling into his hair, the other cupping his cheek. They exchange slow, sweet kisses, eventually rearranging on the couch so that Jack’s laying down the length of it, Dennis spread out on top of him.

“So, I guess we’re together now, huh, for real?” Dennis asks, tracing around Jack’s nipple over his shirt.

Jack chuckles. “I’ll be honest, kid, I kind of thought we already were.”

Dennis huffs a laugh and rubs his face into Jack’s pec.

Chapter Text

“One more, you can do it.”

“No, daddy, I can’t, please don’t make me.”

“Baby, you started this, I know you can do it.”

“Da-ddy.”

Dennis knows he’s full-on whining, but he can’t help it. There’s no way he can run another quarter mile. It’s his fault, really. He’d wanted to get some movement back into his schedule. While he moves plenty on a shift, it’s not exactly structured aerobic activity. Jack had suggested running laps at the U Pitt track on Saturday to try it out.

It had been a terrible idea.

Dennis wants to curl up and take a nap right here. But he is having fun goading Jack a bit. He crosses his arms and pulls his lip out into a pout, which is basically catnip for Jack.

“Really, baby? What, are you going to throw a temper tantrum next?”

Jack’s hands are on his hips, and his expression is stern, but Dennis knows that look in his eye. He’s fucking eating this up.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I want something if I do.”

“What, you want a reward?” Jack asks dryly.

Dennis nods.

Jack sighs. “Fine. Fine, you can have a reward. What do you want?”

Dennis gives Jack a smile, satisfied by the way his breath catches. He leans up to whisper in Jack’s ear.

“For my reward, I want to eat your cum.”

“Christ, kid,” Jack says softly, almost like he’s in pain.

He shifts his weight, more than just keeping his balance on his exercise blade. He clears his throat.

“Ok, fine. You run another quarter mile – that’s run, baby, all the way, no stopping – and you can… eatmycum.” He rushes the last three words together, even though there’s no one around them.

Dennis sends him an innocent look, takes a drink from his water bottle, and takes off at a slow, but steady pace. He hears Jack laugh behind him, then feels him run up next to him. Dennis doesn’t go very fast, but he does manage to run the whole way. As he crosses the line, he stops abruptly, bending at the waist and panting.

“I did it!” Dennis crows triumphantly.

“Good job, baby,” Jack says, wrapping an arm around Dennis as he straightens back up.

“Now I get my reward,” Dennis says seriously.

Jack laughs. “Yep, when we get home.” He starts heading toward the locker room, but Dennis tugs on his hand.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What?”

Dennis shakes his head. “You never specified where. As far as I’m concerned, I get to have my reward in the place of my choosing.”

Jack just looks at him. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“That’s not funny,” Jack says, which is undercut a little by the fact that he’s trying not to laugh. “Come on, baby, let’s go rinse off and go home.”

Dennis allows Jack to think that he’s acquiescing and goes along to shower in the locker room. Luckily, they have private shower stalls, which Dennis smiles at. All according to his plan.

He rummages around in his backpack while Jack goes into the accessible stall, which has a built-in bench. After a quick glance around to make sure no one else is in the room, Dennis undresses and slips into the accessible stall.

When Jack notices Dennis, he sighs. “Goddammit.”

“Come on, Jack,” Dennis says. “You didn’t think I was going to pass this up, did you?”

He gets to his knees in front of Jack, who’s already sitting on the bench with his blade off, and Jack closes his mouth over a groan as he looks down at Dennis.

“Make it fast.”

Dennis smirks up at him. “I kind of think you’re the one in control of that.”

Jack’s cock is already starting to plump up. As Dennis wraps his fingers around it, he watches it get fully hard with just a few strokes under the water. Dennis is already wet himself in anticipation of this and can’t tell if what’s dripping down his thighs is his own slick or drops from the shower. Probably both.

Dennis leans down and takes the head of Jack’s cock in his mouth, pressing his tongue against the slit. Even the head is thick enough to stretch his jaw out, but Dennis tries to put that out of his mind, just focusing on bobbing his head on Jack’s dick, sliding farther down the shaft.

Jack brings his hand up to rest against the top of Dennis’s head, not pushing him, just threading his fingers through the curls, getting damp by the spray.

“Baby, your mouth feels so good,” Jack says quietly.

Dennis hums around Jack’s dick, squeezing his own thighs together and wishing he could get a hand on his own dick. He’s making good progress in fitting Jack into his mouth. He can feel twitches in Jack’s thigh muscles, his hips, at the strain from keeping still.

Dennis breathes in, still able to smell Jack’s sweat and natural scent. He must not have gotten around to actually washing yet. He runs his tongue along the bottom of the shaft, drawing a low moan out of Jack. It’s rare that he gets to focus solely on Jack’s pleasure, and he drinks up every sound, every movement, that he can. And he wants to keep it that way, wants to think only about how good he’s making Jack feel.

But he can’t help himself.

He slowly removes his hand from balancing on Jack’s thigh and brings it between his own legs. His cock is so hard, and he really needs to touch it. Still bobbing up and down on Jack’s dick, drool falling out the sides of his mouth, Dennis starts rubbing his own dick, humming as he feels the nerves spark under his hand.

“Oh, god, baby,” Jack chokes out. “Are you… are you touching yourself right now?”

Dennis pulls off Jack’s cock, licking his lips, and looks up at Jack. “I can’t help it. I need to, daddy.”

His tone is so pathetic, but he can see the effect it has on Jack, whose mouth drops open a little. His eyes are completely dark now.

“Keep touching your dick, baby. You’re being such a good boy for daddy.”

Dennis hums, leaning back a little and squeezing himself so that Jack can see his growth pushing out between his folds. Jack makes a growling sound, and Dennis is torn between giggling and moaning.

“I still want to eat your cum, daddy, I haven’t forgotten that.”

Jack nods, his eyes still on what Dennis is doing between his own legs. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna take much now.”

Dennis leans back into Jack’s lap, holding Jack’s cock up so that he can get his mouth on it again. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, pulling another deep moan from Jack as he speeds up his other hand on his own cock.

The thrill of doing this in the locker room, where anyone could hear them, could know what they were doing, makes everything more. The fire burning underneath his skin is warmer, the electricity sparking through his veins as he tugs on his cock sharper, the taste of Jack’s pre-cum dripping out of his slit saltier.

He pushes down as far as he can onto Jack’s dick, humming again, and this time, Jack’s hand at the back of his head adds some force. Dennis slips down a little more and starts gagging, his eyes watering, his air cut off. With a hand now on Jack’s thigh, he digs his fingertips into Jack’s flesh. His eyes roll back a little. He gives his own cock one more squeeze, and he’s coming on his fingers, yelling around Jack’s dick.

Jack’s hand releases Dennis’s head so he can pull back a little as Jack’s dick starts to pulse, emptying down Dennis’s throat. Dennis pulls off and strokes Jack’s cock a few more times, moaning, his tongue waiting to catch the final drops of cum.

He knows his face must look wrecked. He can barely see through his teary eyelashes, his nose running, spit covering his chin and dripping down onto his neck. There’s probably spurts of cum on his face, too.

He’s ecstatic.

“Sorry for the end, there, kid. It wasn’t too much, was it?” Jack asks softly, panting.

“No, daddy,” Dennis answers, shaking his head, licking up the cum his tongue can reach.

“Fuck, baby, you look gorgeous,” Jack murmurs, his voice cracking, as he pets Dennis’s cheek. “You were so good for your daddy.”

Dennis smiles up at him. “Best reward ever.”

***

Dennis peers into Behavioral Health 2 where Madge Taylor, a 62-year-old woman whose daughter had brought her in, continues to pace. She stops every few steps, yells at something only she sees next to her, and continues pacing.

She’s been in BH2 for an hour now, waiting on a psych consult, but it will be a while yet on a Saturday evening. Jack comes up to stand next to Dennis, his arms crossed. It’s rare that they work shifts together anymore, since Dennis is largely back on days, but with Jack working a swing today, their hours overlap.

“Dr. Whitaker, didn’t you hear Bridget say that we’re expecting multiple patients from that three-car pile-up? Should be here in a few minutes.”

Dennis looks up at Jack. “I did, Dr. Abbot.” He lowers his voice. “I’m still not convinced this is solely psychosis. There’s something I’m missing, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Den, none of the tests have come back positive. She’s clearly agitated, experiencing hallucinations. This is psychosis. There doesn’t have to be a mystery in every diagnosis.”

Dennis bristles a little bit at the feeling he’s being dismissed. He and Jack usually see eye to eye on differentials, decision-making. Though, he understands Jack’s point; Occam’s razor leads him to a psychiatric issue, and with the impending rush, there isn’t time to spend on a wild goose chase.

But he still thinks that he’s right, that there’s something else going on here.

He looks over his shoulder at the bustle of preparation for the incoming traumas and sighs. Ms. Taylor will keep for now. He can at least help with the MVC patients.

An hour later, Dennis is back at BH2, reading through Ms. Taylor’s case notes on a tablet. He looks up at her. She’s been sitting on the bed, her back against the wall, watching the MVC patients being helped. There had been nine. They’d all survived, just an assortment of broken bones, whiplash, and one patient with some internal bleeding, but not as bad as it could have been.

Her face looks a little swollen, along with her hands. She has a history of alcohol use, so he’d assumed that had been responsible for the swelling, but now he wonders. He scrolls through the test results, her bloodwork, the MRI, the CT. Nothing had shown up to explain her sudden symptoms.

As he watches, she starts yelling and slapping herself. Dennis sighs, wishing he had some idea of how to help her. He and Sophie go into BH2 to administer haloperidol to help her calm down and stop hurting herself. As Dennis is leaving the room, he notices that her legs are also swollen. An idea sprouts in his mind and the memory of a case he’d had months ago, under Robby, surfaces. Back in the corridor, he scrolls through the specific blood tests again.

“Dr. Whitaker, are you still working on this patient?” Jack’s voice sounds disapproving, like he’s close to telling Dennis off.

“It’s not psychosis, Abbot. It’s not.” Dennis is starting to get excited.

Jack sighs. “Den, we’ve been over this – ”

“I think it’s hypothyroidism,” Dennis breaks in. At Jack’s raised eyebrow, he continues. “Look at the swelling. Hands, feet, face. It’s myxedema. She has a history of fatigue and sudden weight gain? I thought it was the alcohol use, but we haven’t tested her thyroid levels. Jack, this could be myxedema madness.”

Jack looks at him, his eyes scanning Dennis’s face for a minute. Then he sighs again and nods. “Ok, let’s send another panel up to test her thyroid levels. If it’s not hypothyroidism, will you please move on to other patients?”

Dennis nods enthusiastically. “I promise.”

The lab tests confirm critically low thyroid levels, similar to his previous patient experiencing an Addison’s crisis. The satisfaction of being right coasts Dennis through the rest of shift. Well, not just being right, but knowing how to help Ms. Taylor feel better, relatively fast, without a need for a psychiatric inpatient stay.

Jack follows Dennis out the ambulance entrance at the end of Dennis’s shift to say goodbye. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

“For what?”

Jack’s got his hands in his pockets. Dennis has a feeling it’s so he’s not tempted to reach out for Dennis, which warms him almost as much as Jack’s arms would.

“You stood up for your patient.”

“I’ve done that before,” Dennis points out.

Jack nods. “Yeah, but not against me. You stood up for her even though I was telling you to move on. That was pretty brave. I can be pretty persuasive.”

Dennis steps closer to Jack, probably closer than is professional. He leans in slightly and the fabric of their scrubs brushes together.

“I’m familiar with your persuasion techniques,” Dennis says.

“Baby, you are trying to get me in trouble,” Jack says, leaning forward, too.

Ellis appears in the driveway. “Boss! Incoming MVC, eight minutes out. Stop gnawing on your chew toy and get back in here!”

“You looking for another write-up for insubordination, Ellis?” Jack yells over his shoulder.

Ellis snorts. “Yeah, right, ‘another.’ See you later, Whitaker!” She waves and walks back into the ED.

Jack’s shaking his head when he looks back at Dennis. “Well, looks like I gotta go.”

Dennis smiles up at him. He looks around quickly and surges up to give Jack a peck on the lips. “Have a good rest of your shift, daddy,’ he whispers.

“I’ll try not to wake you when I get home.”

Dennis just smiles, and heads toward the bus stop.

***

The phone rings several times before his father picks up.

“Gra – er, son? That you?”

Dennis sighs and closes his eyes. “Yeah, dad. It’s me. Dennis.”

His father clears his throat. “Right. Dennis. Uh, what can I do for you?”

Using his feet against the desk, Dennis spins back and forth in the office chair, looking up at the ceiling. They’d turned the guest room into a guest room/home office the weekend before, pushing the bed against the wall to make room for a small desk and bookcase.

“Well, I’m working tonight and I’m not sure when I’ll be awake tomorrow, so I wanted to call today and wish you a happy anniversary.”

“Oh.” His father sounds surprised. Dennis wonders why he bothers reaching out at all. “Anything new with you up there in Pennsylvania?”

Dennis feels the smile stretch across his face automatically. His stomach flutters a little with indecision, but as he watches Shadow jump up onto the desk and walk across the keyboard of his laptop, he takes the plunge.

“Yeah, actually. I wanted to tell you… I’m in a relationship.”

“Oh.” His father clears his throat again and spits. He must still be using chew. “And, uh, is this person a, um, a he or a she or…”

“He’s a man, dad. His name is Jack.”

“Uh-huh. Someone you met at church?”

Now Dennis clears his throat. “No, dad. I actually met him at work.”

“Oh, another, uh, resident?”

Dennis squeezes his eyes closed. “No, he’s an attending already.”

“So he’s older.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Dennis wonders which part of his relationship his father will hate the most. The fact that Jack’s a man? A couple decades older than him? His boss? Disabled?

“Yeah, he’s a bit older than me, dad, but that’s not really a problem. For either of us.”

“I don’t know, son, are you sure he’s not taking advantage of you? Maybe he’s just using you for a caretaker or something, in his old age.”

Dennis looks back up at the ceiling, wondering if his father will ever just tell him he’s happy for Dennis, because he knows Dennis is happy.

“He’s not taking advantage of me, dad.” If anything, it’s the other way, Dennis thinks, pressing his lips closed to prevent a chuckle from escaping. There’s no way he’s going to get into that with his father, though.

“You just, you kids just rush into things. You’re young. You’re all alone in that big city, easy pickings. This man, this Jack, could hoodwink you into – ”

“Look, dad,” Dennis says, cutting his father off. “I called to wish you a happy anniversary, so happy anniversary. I shared my news about Jack with you because he makes me happy. He loves me, very much. He’s a wonderful man and he treats me well. I just wanted you to know that I had someone amazing in my life.”

“But Gr-ennis, I really think…”

“Talk to you later, dad.”

Dennis hangs up the phone and exhales slowly. He wonders, not for the first time, how his mother would have reacted to him coming out. How she would’ve responded to Dennis gushing to her about Jack. He really wishes he could have found out.

He spins in the chair again and when he sees Jack in the doorway, he gives a start, clutching at his chest.

“Christ on a Christmas cheese cracker!”

Jack’s mouth, initially turned down in a frown, wobbles a little. “I’m going to set it aside for now, but at some point, I’d really like to come back to your expletives, kid.”

He crutches into the room and comes to stand in front of Dennis, lifting a hand to pet Dennis’s hair. Dennis lets out a low groan and presses his face into Jack’s hip.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, daddy.” The words are muffled against Jack’s pants.

Jack cups underneath Dennis’s chin and lifts it up so they can see each other’s faces.

“That sounded kind of rough there.”

Dennis shrugs, looking away. “I thought I’d take a chance, give him an opportunity to just be happy for me.”

Jack taps his thumb against Dennis’s jaw and Dennis meets his eyes again. “Well, I’m proud of you, that you told him.”

Dennis snorts. “He thought you were taking advantage of me so that I’d be your nurse or something in your old age.”

Jack releases Dennis’s chin and moves over to the guest bed, sitting on the edge and leaning his crutches against the wall. “And you think that’s not my long game?”

Dennis smiles at that.

“Ah, there it is. There’s that beautiful smile.”

Dennis shakes his head, his smile widening.

“C’mere, baby.”

Jack spreads his arms out and Dennis climbs into his lap. Jack rocks him back and forth a little, pressing his lips to Dennis’s temple.

“You are such an amazingly empathetic person, always willing to see the good in people. But I need to warn you, baby. If that man hurts you again, I’m going to have to have a conversation with him that he’s not going to like.”

Dennis shrugs. “He can’t help it. It’s how he was raised, how that town is.”

Jack tightens his grip around Dennis. “No, he can help it. He could practice your name, not be an asshole. Those are choices he’s making, baby. And I don’t like how upset it makes you.”

“He’s my father.”

“Yeah, he is. And I’m your daddy. Right?”

Dennis feels his face heat up, with a little bit of shame that lingers around their dynamic, but mostly with the warmth of Jack’s support.

“Right.”

Jack hums. “And your daddy is saying, let’s take a break from Broken Bow for a while, ok? If they reach out, you can do whatever you like there, but I want you to stop calling for a bit, see how that feels.”

It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, like Dennis has just set down a heavy backpack he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying. It’s a relief, to be told that he doesn’t have to make the effort in this, that he can just… not.

“Ok, daddy,” he murmurs into Jack’s neck.

“That’s my boy,” Jack responds, as he keeps rocking Dennis back and forth.

***

“I already talked to Trinity, and she said it was fine,” Jack says.

“Yeah, but it’s her birthday, and I don’t want to make a big deal of this. I don’t want to take the focus from her.”

They walk down the sidewalk toward the bar, Jack’s arm around Dennis’s shoulders.

“Most people who’ll be there already know we’re together.”

Dennis nods. “Yeah, they’ve heard we’re together. It’s another thing to see it.”

Jack stops walking and tugs Dennis next to a storefront. “Do you not want people to see us? Are you – ” He clears his throat. “Are you bothered by people knowing we’re together?”

Dennis brings his hands up to bracket Jack’s face. “Daddy, no,” he says quietly. “I’m considering taking out an ad in the Tribune-Review.”

Jack snorts but doesn’t meet Dennis’s eyes. Dennis strokes his cheek with one of his thumbs until Jack’s eyes find his. Dennis is a little surprised to see uncertainty, caution, in them. He feels a surge of affection for the man, but also a little guilt, that he’d allowed Jack to think that Dennis was trying to hide their relationship.

“Ok, daddy. Let’s blow their minds.” He smiles up at Jack. “Can’t wait to see the jealous looks on their faces when they see you’re off the market.”

Dennis has barely finished speaking before Jack is pressing him back into the store window, sealing his mouth over Dennis’s. It’s a chaste kiss – at least by their standards – but it zings through his blood and when Jack pulls away, Dennis tries to follow him to get more.

“C’mon, kid,” Jack says, taking Dennis’s hand and towing him back onto the sidewalk. “Before we get arrested for public indecency.”

They pause outside the door to the bar and Dennis takes a deep breath. He hasn’t been back to this place since the party Trinity had arranged for his Match Day celebration. A trickle of embarrassment drips down his spine as he thinks about the way he’d practically thrown himself at Robby that night.

“I remember watching you, on Match Day,” Jack murmurs, his mouth close to Dennis’s ear. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you, the way you danced, the way you laughed. Such a beautiful boy.”

Dennis pushes the old, useless memories away and thinks about how, even then, Jack had been keeping an eye on him, encouraging him to drink water, take care of himself. He swings his arm around Jack’s waist and opens the door to the bar.

Trinity isn’t difficult to find, even in the crowded bar. She’s already on her way to being drunk, her voice loud and her movements wide.

“Huckleberry!” she shouts as they approach the two tables pushed together to accommodate the size of the group.

Dennis lets go of Jack to give her a high five. Jack puts his arm around her in a side hug, which is about the maximum amount of physical intimacy she can stand in public. He leans in to speak low in her ear. “Happy birthday, Trin. Dishwasher doing ok?”

“Yes, dad,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, but Dennis can see her ears go a little pink, beyond her flush from the alcohol.

Garcia pulls Trinity back down into her seat, and a chorus of greetings go up. Dennis nods and smiles at everyone as Jack drags two chairs over for them to sit in. Ellis leans over to pound his fist, then Jack’s, and on his other side, Mateo nods in greeting.

“I would like everyone here to know,” Ellis says loudly, “that I knew about this before any of y’all.” She gestures to Jack and Dennis, and Dennis smiles when he sees Jack rolling his eyes.

“Excuse you,” Trinity says, her words slurring a little. “But I knew even before you, so.”

“Yeah, but I was there for the pining stage,” Ellis argues.

Jack’s face is getting redder and redder and Dennis is absolutely going to be bringing up “the pining stage” at a later time. He puts his hand on Jack’s thigh under the table and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Hey,” Dennis breaks in. “We’re here to celebrate the birthday girl, aren’t we?”

Several people cheer, Trinity loudest of all, and the conversation moves away from Jack and Dennis. Dennis jokes with Mateo, leans over to yell at Princess, exchanges barbs with Javadi, and all the while, Jack's fingers absently trace circles against his back.

Twenty minutes later, Dennis finally goes up to get a drink, promising Jack that he’ll also get a glass of water. He’s standing at the bar, smiling to himself when someone steps up next to him.

“Hey, Whitaker,” Robby says softly.

Dennis freezes for a second, then looks up at Robby. The man’s expression is one of contrition, a careful smile on his lips.

“I just wanted to… can I just talk to you for a second? Then I promise, I’ll leave you alone.”

Dennis sighs, giving a quick look over his shoulder to confirm that Jack is observing their interaction. Even from here, Dennis can tell that Jack’s muscles have gone rigid, like he’s a second away from jumping to Dennis’s rescue. Dennis gives a small shake of his head. He doesn’t need rescuing right now. He needs to handle this himself. So he squares his shoulders and turns to face Robby, giving him a nod.

“First,” Robby says, “I want to say that I am sorry. Really, truly sorry. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I did to you, how I hurt you. And especially seeing how much you’ve grown as a doctor now that you’re back on days… every day, it reminds me of how much I’ve missed, of how badly I fucked up.”

Robby swallows. Dennis thinks that he’s being genuine. This isn’t some ploy to get Dennis into his bed again or to save face.         

“And second…” Robby’s voice fades out and he glances over at Jack, who’s still watching them intently. “I wanted to say, good for you. And Jack. He’s really a great guy. He’s put up with my shit for so long, and I was an asshole to him. I owe him a separate conversation, but I needed you to know… I am happy for you. Both of you.” He looks down then and clears his throat.

Dennis can’t help but feel sorry for Robby. He knows he should maybe still feel anger or betrayal, or something other than pity. And he is still annoyed at the way his relationship, or whatever it had been, with Robby had derailed his career a bit. But he’d found something else. Something wonderful. And a part of him feels like he owes Robby just a tiny bit of gratitude for that.

So he reaches out and lays a tentative hand on Robby’s arm. Robby immediately looks up at Dennis, confusion and hope swirling in his eyes.

“I forgive you,” Dennis says softly. “I still think you’re kind of an asshole for what you did to me. Both times.” He hasn’t forgotten the sound of those texts coming in right after they’d fucked the last time. “But I forgive you. And honestly, Robby, I really, truly, hope that you get some help. You’re drowning, man, and you don’t have to be.”

Robby opens his mouth, but then closes it, like he’s not sure how to respond to that. Dennis doesn’t really need him to respond, though. They’d settled into a relatively neutral working dynamic in the ED, and with this conversation, Dennis isn’t looking for any more resolution to what had been between them. Maybe in the future they can grow into something closer to friends, as Robby and Jack repair their relationship. For now, he’s fine with things as they are.

He walks away from the bar, not sticking around to get that drink after all. Jack has risen from his seat and meets him, standing in front of Dennis with a dark, possessive look in his eyes.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, taking Dennis’s hand and leading him toward the short hall to the bathrooms.

With each step, Dennis wonders if what he’s been thinking about ever since the shower blow job is actually going to happen. He’d thought he’d need to figure out a way to trick Jack into giving him this, but maybe that talk with Robby is enough motivation for Jack to instigate it himself. He feels the seam of his jeans sliding roughly against his folds and shivers with anticipation.

The men’s bathroom is empty when they walk in. It’s not very big, two urinals, two stalls, and a sink. Jack heads to the larger, accessible stall, and opens the door, tugging Dennis inside. Dennis backs himself against the wall, waiting while Jack slides the lock closed.

“What did he say to you?” Jack asks quietly, a hard edge in his tone as he crowds his body around Dennis’s.

“He apologized, actually,” Dennis replies, looking into Jack’s eyes, trying to keep a smile off his face, trying not to look like this is happening exactly the way he’d wanted it.

“He did, did he.”

Dennis hums, laying his hands lightly against Jack’s chest. “And he said that he’s happy for me, for us.”

Jack grunts and shakes his head, like he can’t believe Robby had actually said that.

“What’s going on, daddy?” he asks, pressing his hands more firmly against Jack’s tits. “Are you jealous?”

The question hangs in the air, the tone innocent, but hitting Jack exactly where Dennis had hoped. He presses forward, his hips grinding into Dennis’s. Dennis can’t help the hiss he makes as he feels both the growing erection in Jack’s jeans, and the rough fabric of his own dragging against his growth. Jack glances down between them, and then back up to Dennis’s face, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Baby…” There’s a note of warning in Jack’s voice. “What did you do?”

Dennis feels his mouth stretch into a slow smile as he unzips his jeans and pushes them down his hips a little so he can show Jack that he's not wearing any underwear, his cunt already a wet mess.

“Fucking hell,” Jack mutters, one hand drawn between Dennis’s legs like a magnet.

His sour mood forgotten, Jack gets down on his knees, not caring about how dirty the floor might be, looking up at Dennis like he’s just grateful to be there.

“Baby, can I taste you?”

Dennis lets out a soft whimper and nods frantically, pressing his lips together as he feels Jack’s tongue lick up his folds before his lips wrap around his dick. Jack sucks on Dennis’s cock like it’s his last meal. Jack’s hands come up to Dennis’s hips and he uses his thumbs to part Dennis’s folds as he presses his face between Dennis’s legs. Dennis’s hands are on the back of Jack’s head, encouraging him. He feels Jack’s tongue travel down to dip into his cunt, lapping at Dennis’s slick as it leaks out.

“Whose cock is this, baby?” Jack asks, his voice rough. “Whose cunt?”

“Yours, daddy, they’re yours.”

“Yeah, they’re mine, baby,” Jack agrees. “Just like you’re mine.”

Dennis tugs on Jack’s hair. “I need your cock inside me, daddy, or I’m gonna die.”

Jack stills and looks up at Dennis. “You sure, baby?”

Dennis nods frantically, grinding his crotch into Jack’s face. Jack gives him another lick, then stands back up, wincing a little as he straightens.

“Well, we can’t have that. Why don’t you turn around, baby? Hands on the wall.”

Dennis is moving before Jack finishes talking, slapping his hands against the painted drywall. He hears the clink of Jack unbuckling his belt, the rasp of his zipper going down. A faint smell of pre-cum hits his nose and Dennis lets out a low moan. Jack steps right behind him and Dennis can feel the tip of his cock nudging against his upper thigh.

“You ready, baby?” Jack asks as he pumps two fingers a few times into Dennis’s cunt.

Dennis nods again and those two fingers are all the prep he gets. “Oh, shit, daddy,” Dennis moans as Jack thrusts into him roughly.

“Baby, you're gonna have to be quieter than that or everyone will be able to hear me fucking this sweet cunt of yours,” Jack mutters behind him, his hips rocking up to meet Dennis’s.

Even with how aroused he is, how Jack had gone down on him, Dennis can feel the stretch in his cunt as Jack’s thick cock spears him open. The smooth wall offers no handholds for him, and he claws at it ineffectually as Jack drives into him over and over, his hands gripping Dennis’s hips. After several strokes, though, the glide becomes easier and Dennis can hear how slick he’s gotten.

Jack muffles a groan into Dennis’s hair. “So wet for me, baby. Soaking daddy’s cock so good.”

Then Jack slides a hand down between Dennis’s legs to start stroking Dennis’s dick, using his slick as lube. Dennis throws his head back against Jack’s shoulder, and Jack takes advantage of the position to start sucking at the skin of Dennis’s throat.

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opens. Jack slaps his hand over Dennis’s mouth, his hips stilling, his cock buried in Dennis’s cunt. They listen as someone uses a urinal, then washes their hands, and leaves. Jack resumes pumping in and out of Dennis, tugging on his cock. Dennis is so close, he can taste it.

The door opens again and it’s lucky that Jack had kept a hand over Dennis’s mouth, because he doesn’t stop his hips this time. He keeps slowly plunging his dick in and out of Dennis’s cunt while two guys use the bathroom, laugh and joke with each other. Dennis can feel drool start to leak out the sides of his mouth, getting all over Jack’s hand. His cock is harder than he can remember it ever being as Jack runs his thumb over the head, thrusting fast for a few strokes, then slow, into his cunt.

The other men finally leave the bathroom and as soon as the door thuds shut, Jack’s groaning and flooding Dennis’s cunt with cum, which tips Dennis over the edge, and he’s yelling into Jack’s palm, wetness gushing between his legs.

Jack takes away his hand from Dennis’s mouth, wiping it on his jeans. Dennis leans against the wall, pressing his cheek to the cold surface. Jack’s forehead falls between his shoulder blades. They’re both panting hard.

Then Dennis feels Jack snake his hands around Dennis’s chest. One rests over his heart as Jack hooks his chin onto Dennis’s shoulder, his cock still tucked inside Dennis’s cunt.

“You were so good, baby,” Jack murmurs, “so good for daddy.”

He moves to step back, withdraw, but Dennis throws a hand back, clutching at Jack’s thigh.

“No, daddy, stay.”

“Baby,” Jack chuckles. “We’re in a stall in a bar bathroom. I cannot stay inside this sweet cunt, no matter how much I want to.”

Dennis lets go and they both moan softly as Jack’s dick slides out. They pull up their jeans.

“Do you think anyone will be able to tell what we’ve been doing?” Dennis asks innocently as they stand in front of the sink, trying to rinse off and pat dry the various bodily fluids on their clothes.

Jack gives him a flat look and Dennis giggles.

***

“All right, we’ve got more honey for Trinity, including the blueberry kind she wanted to try, the bread that Garcia mentioned for brunch tomorrow. Oh, last time they were here, Pierce said there were huge sweet potatoes. I want to check those out and see if we can get some to practice that sweet potato pie recipe from Ellis’s mom.”

Dennis furrows his brow. “But Thanksgiving is like, months away.”

“Never too early to practice something, baby,” Jack replies, squeezing Dennis’s ass with the hand he’d stuck into Dennis’s back pocket.

Dennis shakes his head but smiles as they wind their way through the farmers’ market stalls, heading to the family farm booths. Jack wanders off to look at the sweet potatoes, which are very big. Dennis starts looking over some root vegetables, not really looking to purchase, just waiting for Jack to be done.

“Oh, hello there!” a cheery voice calls.

Dennis realizes that he’s stopped in front of the farm stall where he and Jack had bought corn a while back. His face heats up when he remembers the assumption the kindly older woman had made. It hadn’t been true then, but that had certainly changed.

“You here with your daddy?” she asks.

Dennis opens his mouth to gently correct her when he feels a warm presence behind him and knows Jack is going to milk the shit out of this. He watches as the woman’s eyes bulge out of her head and her face turns an increasingly darker shade of red as Jack dips his head to kiss Dennis’s neck. Dennis leans back into Jack’s bulk unconsciously, his ass meeting Jack’s hips before he remembers where they are. He sends an elbow backward into Jack’s ribs.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Jack says, his tone teasing, “I’m making sure my boy behaves.”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish and Jack leads Dennis away, groping Dennis’s ass in full view of everyone as they continue walking.

“Jack!” Dennis hisses at him.

“What?” Jack replies innocently, like he can’t imagine why Dennis would be upset.

He huffs in irritation as they approach the car. “Well, now we can’t come back to this market.”

Dennis leans against the car and crosses his arms. Jack opens the back door to put the bag of goods inside, then leans against the car next to Dennis.

“Why do you care so much what other people think, baby?”

Dennis shrugs. “It’s not that, I just… sometimes I hear my dad’s voice in my head, you know? Telling me to make myself smaller, less noticeable. Don’t draw attention to myself.”

Jack bumps Dennis’s hips with his own. “I don’t want you to make yourself smaller. I want to hang a big spotlight over you, so everyone can see how smart and wonderful you are.” He sighs. “I wish you didn’t hear his voice, that you could see yourself the way I see you, baby.”

“I’m trying. It’s just… it’s just gonna take more time, I think.” He squints up at Jack in the bright sun.

Jack nods. “You take all the time you need, kid.”

They stand next to each other in silence for a minute, the early summer wind bringing the scent of pine and native flowers.

“What if it takes a long time?” Dennis asks quietly, not looking at Jack now.

Jack reaches over and tugs on Dennis’s belt loop until he’s standing in front of Jack, caught between his legs as Jack’s hands settle on his waist.

“I think it’s gonna take as long as it’s gonna take, baby. But you know, there’s more options than just hoping for the best.”

He lifts a hand to tuck Dennis’s hair behind his ears before the wind undoes his effort.

“You think I should go to therapy?”

Jack shrugs. “I think that’s one option. There’s also communities online, or surely in the city, where you could talk with other people who have complicated relationships with their parents. Or we could figure out some smaller steps to help you feel more comfortable, like DIY exposure therapy. Lots of options, baby.”

Dennis leans forward, pressing his face into Jack’s chest and inhaling his musk, the light traces of his cologne. He hums when he feels Jack’s arms come around his back, feeling safe within his Jack cocoon.

“Don’t give up on me, ok?” he murmurs against Jack’s shirt, those old bitter feelings of insecurity catching him by surprise.

Jack brushes a kiss against his forehead. “I’d sooner be able to live without a vital organ. You’re it for me, kid. As long as you’re willing to stick with me, I think we can beat anything.”

Dennis lifts his face up for a kiss and Jack happily obliges, making a little sound when Dennis pushes his hips into Jack’s. He thinks about the ring box Trinity’s hiding for him at her apartment, about what forever could look like. Probably something like this, him and Jack against any challenge.

When they break for air, Dennis is smiling. “Let’s go home, daddy. I wanna feel this mouth on my cock.”

Jack leans down for one more peck on Dennis’s forehead, then releases him. “Best idea you’ve ever had, baby.”

As they drive down the street, Dennis rolls down the window and the car fills with fresh air. He smiles into the sunshine, Jack’s hand gently squeezing his thigh.