Chapter Text
Dennis ‘Huckleberry’ Whitaker POV:
Dennis Whitaker sat on the couch and watched with confused amusement as Trinity Santos paced back and forth across their living room, her arms folded with a tense expression and eyebrows knit together tightly. He raised his own eyebrow, eyes tracking her. “Is my temporary movement to the nightshift bothering you this much, Trin?” Dennis curled his legs up under himself as he tugged the crotched blanket across himself. “It’s only for a couple weeks. Three, tops.”
Trinity shot him a heated glare. “But we won’t get to hang out during the day. We’ll have to stop our yoga classes! Our gossip dates! How will I go on?” She collapsed dramatically on the other side of the couch, purposefully knocking his legs with her foot. She threw her arm over her eyes, sighing loudly. “Oh, no! I’ll have to turn to Samira for company..” She trailed off with a cheeky grin sent his way.
Dennis scoffed with amusement at his best friend (when did that happen?) and chucked a pillow at her. “Oh no. Not the super secret crush on the super hot doctor.” He shifted, pushing the blanket off and heading into the adjacent kitchen. He flicked on the kettle after filling it with water. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.” Trinity sprawled across the couch. “And you know that I’m never going to act on Mohan. She’s into Abbot, I think. Did you see the way they were talking during the whole Pittfest bullshit?” She sat up, resting her forearm across the couch arm.
Dennis thought back to that horrible day, dropping two teabags into two mugs. “I didn’t see them. But don’t make assumptions, Trin. You can never know what someone’s thinking.” He poured the boiling water into the mugs and mixed them with a spoon. He let the tea steep before putting the bags into the bin. He handed her a mug, sitting down in the armchair, feeling oddly like a psychologist talking with a patient. And then Trinity smirked, and the feeling was dashed very quickly.
”And how are things going with your crush, Dr. Daddy?” She took a sip of her tea, humming. She put it on the side table and got up to grab the milk. “You made any progress, Huckleberry?”
Dennis winced, leaning back in the armchair. “I don’t know. Robby runs so hot and cold. Sometimes he’ll be like, really nice and touchy. Then he’ll get all closed off and rude. I don’t know how to handle it. It’s giving mixed messages.” He sipped his tea, savouring the taste in his mouth.
”Maybe some time apart will do you some good. Get you some clarity on the situation. Or, I don’t know, maybe I’ll hit Robby over the head and tell him to pull his shit together, get a clit, and tell you what he fucking wants.” Trinity shrugged, as if she was suggesting they talk it out over some coffee. She added a splash of milk to her tea and then put it away before sitting back down to face him. “Or just flash your sad puppy eyes at him and ask for clarity.”
“Maybe you’re right. About the time apart, not anything else you just said. Perspective and whatnot.” Dennis nodded at her with a slightly lopsided grin, nudging her leg with his foot. “Alright. We should sleep. You’re working in the morning.” He finished off his tea and put it in the dishwasher. Dennis reached out his hand, offering to take hers too.
Trinity rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.” She shoved her mug into his outstretched hand before getting up. She stretched her arms above her head while walking to her bedroom. “Night, Huckleberry.” Her door shut behind her.
Dennis rolled his eyes as he put away the mug and went into his room. He could never express how grateful he was to Trinity for letting him stay here. It was the perfect arrangement. Dennis was so handy after living on a farm in Nebraska, so he fixed everything and anything. No rent needed unless he was able to chip in. But Trinity never made him chip in. She was such a softie, though she’d never admit it.
Dennis changed into a pair of black tracksuit bottoms and tossed his shirt in the laundry basket before clambering into bed. He let out a soft grumble at the soft mattress, tucking a pillow into his arms as he relaxed and succumbed to slumber.
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Trinity left early that morning while Dennis slept in for the first time in months. After waking up around 10am, he showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He headed into the kitchen, spotting a note on the counter next to a clingfilm wrapped plate of toast and sausages. He picked up the note to read it while heating up his food in the microwave.
Good luck on the nightshift, see u at the handoff. Also tap is leaking.
- Trinity
Dennis spent the day doing some errands. He fixed the tap, made did the laundry, hoovered the apartment, went for a walk, and then made dinner for Trinity. He wasn’t an amazing cook, but he did make a mean burger and chips. He left it in the microwave with a note taped to it for her. Dennis changed into his black scrubs and pulled a hoodie on before he got the bus to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre. He headed into the cafe across the street, getting the cheap shit they pass for coffee. It was his least favourite coffee shop of all the ones he and Trinity had tried while mapping out Pittsburgh. But it was one of the cheapest, so that didn’t made it worth it. After downing that godawful shite, he checked his phone. Officially 7pm, so he dumped the empty cup into the bin and headed back to the hospital. He passed some of the dayshift on the way out, nodding with a grin at Mohan and Mel.
He greeted Dr. Shen politely as they both entered. He was walking towards Dana to greet her before he spotted Santos talking with Dr Robby as they walked in the same direction. He swerved, not quite ready to deal with the backlash of Robby’s unexplainable mood swings. Then he walked straight into Dr. Jack Abbot, nearly knocking the night shift attending to the ground. “Oh shit, sorry, Dr. Abbot! I wasn’t paying attention.” Whitaker apologized profusely, taking a step back to give the veteran some space.
Abbot merely righted his bag over his shoulder, nodding at Whitaker. “S’ all good, kid. No harm done.” He moved past Whitaker towards Robby right as Santos moved away from Robby at the same time. She approached Whitaker with a shit eating grin, elbowing him in the side.
”What a meet cute! Gosh, Huckleberry, you might as well present your arse to him.” Santos teased him almost wickedly, before throwing a side eye towards Robby’s general direction. “Careful with him. He’s staying late by an hour and is in a right fucking mood today.” She crossed her arms, giving Whitaker a cautious look.
Whitaker nodded, a slight grimace tinging his expression. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He looked over towards where the door to the locker room is. “I gotta clock in and stuff. I left you dinner in the microwave.” He patted her shoulder while she grinned gleefully and swatted at him.
“Love you too, Huckleberry!” Santos walked away from him backwards, giving him a teasing look. “Good luck!” She called before leaving the emergency department.
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Two hours into the nightshift, and Whitaker wanted to die. A particularly rowdy stag party had come through with the man of evening. having gotten a concussion after being thrown out of a strip club. They’d been harrassing any female nurse, doctor, even fucking patients, that they could see. It had pushed Whitaker to the brink, and he’d finally attempted a confrontation in the ambulance bay which almost instantly backfired. The man he’d confronted had punched him before rushing off with another guy from the stag party. Whitaker had snuck back into the emergency department, and was now in a bathroom trying to stop the rush of blood coming from his nose. It certainly wasn’t broken or fractured but it still wasn’t a pretty sight. His right cheek had even started to have a nasty purple mark blossoming. Whitaker tilted his head back, holding another fucking tissue to the bleeding catastrophe.
His head snapped to the door as someone cleared their throat. Dr. Abbot was there, leaning against the door. When had he come in? Whitaker hadn’t even heard the door open. “Dr. Abbot! W-.. What.. when did you come in?” He covered his nose, trying to hide the injury to some degree despite the fact it was a little too late.
Abbot raised an eyebrow. “Couple seconds ago. Thought I’d slip in a piss before we got overrun with night shift bad luck. Seems I’m out of time for that?” He pushed off the door, stepping towards Whitaker. “So, Dr. Whitaker. How did this happen, who did it, and why the fuck did you not come to one of the many medical staff for help?”
”I’m sorry, Dr. Abbot. I have street team stuff to do for Dr. McKay tonight, and I was worried someone would send me home if they saw.” Whitaker admitted sheepishly. “And I got punched in the face by one of the people from that stag party that came in. But they’re long gone now and I don’t know their names.” He binned the bloodied tissue, grabbing another one.
Abbot tsked and walked over. “Put that down.” He ordered, getting close and personal as he lifted his hands to hold Whitalker’s face. Whitaker did and Abbot felt along his nose for any out of place bones. Once he was satisifed that there wasn’t any, he examined the tender bruise too. Whitaker winced at the pressure but said nothing. Abbot finally stepped back. “You’re fine, but next time? Come to me. No excuses.” He said firmly, giving Whitaker an almost sharp look.
Whitaker nodded, stepping back. “Yes, sir. Sorry.” His heart rate was through the roof. There was something so… interesting about having Abbot that close. It made his stomach flutter with butterflies, but he didn’t know why. “I have to go.” Whitaker avoided eye contact, clearing his throat. “Gotta get an injection to an unhoused man. I-.. I’ll let Lena know when I’m off.”
Abbot nodded. “Wait for the bleeding to fully stop before you head off, Whitaker.” Abbot clapped him on the shoulder as Whitaker nodded and left the bathroom.
Whitaker pushed out into the hallway, and moved quickly to grab the necessary bits and bobs. Then:
”Dr. Whitaker!” Dr. Robby’s voice was raised slightly as he strode towards Whitaker, who visibly flinched and snapped his head up to see a very irritated Dr. Robby. What was he still doing here? The other nightshift crew all stared at them from where they were working, before hurriedly making themselves look busy. “Would you mind telling me exactly what happened to your face?” He reached Whitaker, putting a hand on his shoulder to get a better look.