Chapter Text
Dennis loosed a shaky exhale as he smoothed over the patch on his neck. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It’d been months since he’d seen the man. He’d managed just fine for the three months he’d spent away from the Pitt, away from Dr. Robby…for the most part.
He stared into the filmy hospital bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes told a different story, a much more pathetic story than he was willing to voice. Even in his own head. It was just a little crush–admiration for a highly competent doctor. It had nothing to do with the intoxicating smell that lingered in his nose for days from sheer proximity. He shivered just thinking about the way he’d wanted to pant after him for the six months of his rotation, like a dog with a bone.
Dennis’s grip tightened on the cold ceramic until his knuckles turned white. It was a dangerous line of thinking, far too reckless for the likes of him. The creak of the faucet handle turning beneath his palm grounded him. Even if his hands shook as he ran them under cold water to splash some on his overheated skin. At least he could blame it on the weather.
Get it together Dennis, he thought.
Maybe he should have put Presby as his top pick. Would it have been the safer choice? Probably.
Definitely.
But Dennis was so tired of running, of hiding. He wanted just one thing for himself. Even if that one thing didn't belong to him. The thing that was not a thing at all and was distinctly shaped like his attending. He had self-control. There was no doubt about that at least.
He'd left Nebraska four years ago and he'd worked himself into the ground making sure he would never have to go back. Dennis wouldn’t risk everything for a little crush.
A fist pounded against the door, breaking up his thoughts and the small resolve he’d been trying to build up.
“Let’s go Huckleberry,” Trinity scolded. “If we’re late for rounds, I’m putting you in the hot seat.”
Dennis took one final look at his distorted reflection, hand pressing down on his patch once more. He didn’t spend much time praying these days, but he couldn’t help but send a plea up to anyone who might be listening. Please let today go my way.
On the other side of the door stood his annoyed roommate. She tended to lean more towards that direction as the days went on. The scowl lining her face was sure to be permanent soon.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered, his hands raised in defeat.
“Yeah whatever,” she said with an eye roll.
They both knew she could have gone without him. Neither of them said the truth of it out loud. Their relationship only worked because they didn’t push each other. Not really. They teased, they nipped, but they didn’t pry. Dennis was smart enough to know Trinity Santos would happily deny the depths of their friendship, but when it came down to it, she was the one who grew frustrated when he spent too many nights away from their shared apartment.
At least Dennis would be able to pitch in on rent now that he was making R1 money. His days of scraping by on nothing but hopes and dreams were done. He had enough for the best patches on the market and albeit bare-minimum living expenses. One could say he was moving up in the world. It was the small wins that took him the furthest.
A thought he didn’t have time to unpack niggled its way to the front of his brain. Be glad you’re not back home so you can even have your own money.
He squashed it with a grimace as he followed behind Trinity out of the locker rooms and into the central hub of the Pitt. Even at fifteen til seven it was already bursting at the seams with noise. They were pressed in tight with how many beds were lining the walls. It must have been a chaotic night shift as Dennis looked at the board where far too much red was still visible so early into their morning.
Still shaky with misplaced energy, Dennis decided to get started on the day. No use in waiting. Rounds would still start at seven, but he could at least get labs going on the John Doe in bay four. And if he was lucky, delay seeing his attending for at least a few more minutes.
“Way to get on top of it kid,” Dana said from her position at the nurse’s station.
He smiled and threw a wave over his shoulder as he made his way over to the partitioned space. The loud screech of the curtain sliding over the rod had the patient sitting up ramrod straight. His posture didn't relax as the curtain was shut. The smell of distressed omega, sharp and pungent, hit Dennis right in the face. He schooled his features, as if the scent was muted and not screaming at him from two feet away.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Whitaker,” Dennis said with a smile.
The kid looked terrified. Every inch of him was taut and covered in a layer of grime that suggested he’d spent too many nights away from a warm bed. It pulled at too many strings for his liking.
“Can I ask what brought you in today?”
“I need some scent patches,” the boy, no older than fifteen, exhaled sharply as if the words hurt coming out.
Dennis looked down at the tablet in his hands. There was no information about his designation, about his medical history, not even a name. The only information he had was that the kid had been brought in by the police; that he’d been found passed out on the street. Maybe he should have waited for someone else to take this case.
“Sure, we can do that. Can you tell me your name?” Dennis tried.
The boy shook his head as he pressed himself further into the bed, paper crinkling with every cowered inch. Dennis slowly lowered his body onto the stool and pushed it away a bit. Both to give the John Doe some space and himself some distance from the odor.
“Okay,” Dennis said slowly, placating. “Can I ask what’s going on with your current patches? Any reactions to specific brands?”
“I ran out, but I’m not allergic to any,” the boy responded only to his fidgeting hands.
Dennis breathed out an exhale. This was a situation that he would want to get Kiara on, but he was torn. He knew what the hospital policy was on unmated secondaries, what he was legally obligated to do. And yet, Dennis didn’t move to call his superior or push for the state-required blood tests.
“Right. I get that. You came to the right place. The back market ones can do untold damage to your hormonal system.”
The kid only grimaced and nodded, far too knowingly for Dennis’s liking. He refrained from pushing for more information on the matter for the time being.
“I just have one more question…” Dennis trailed off uncomfortably. “Are you on the registry?”
The question felt like fire on his tongue. The only response he got was a choked off sob.
The growing pit in his stomach turned to lead.
He knew speed was of the essence if the kid wanted get out of the hospital unscathed by the system that had been put into place to protect people like him, even if Dennis wanted so desperately to get him somewhere safer. He rolled over to the curtain and peeked his head out. The only thing he saw was the bustling of doctors and nurses, but no one was looking in their direction just yet.
“Okay, I work with something called the street team,” Dennis lowered his voice. He looked into the boy’s eyes who were suddenly trained on him. “We set up shop at the omega shelter on Concord. It’s not too far from here. Do you know where it is?"
The boy nodded, his shoulders up by his ears like he was holding his breath.
"I can get you some patches, but I think it’d be best if we’re quick about it.”
His heart clenched as the boy nodded so hard the welling tears jumped off his face and landed with a plop onto the paper covering below him.
“Thank you,” he whimpered.
“Okay.” Dennis stood with a shaky exhale. “Yeah, okay.”
He pushed his hands through his unruly curls as he moved to the small cupboard next to the patient bed. He grabbed the whole box of patches. Dennis could replace them. No one would notice. He just needed to be quick.
Dennis suddenly went ramrod straight as the unmistakable scent hit him. The curtain screamed as it slid open. He whipped his head around to see none other than Dr. Robby, scent momentarily marred by the antiseptic he was already rubbing into his palms.
“Dr. Whitaker, I’d heard you were on shift this morning. Welcome back,” the man said with a smile.
Dennis breathed only through his mouth, eyes like saucers. His fingers clenched around the box of hospital grade scent patches.
“Uh. Yeah.” The words were shaky at best, but the word trembling came to mind. He cleared his throat once. "Hey Dr. Robby. Good to be back.”
The older man gave a sharp inhale as the distressed scent of the boy ramped up. His eyes carried over to the bed, where his John Doe had begun to curl in on himself. He had no barrier to mask every emotion that was pumping out of his body. His glands sat unmarred, uncovered, betraying the desperation Dennis knew he felt.
“I thought rounds didn’t start for,” Dennis quickly checked his watch, “ten more minutes?”
His attending eyed him strangely for a moment, just a flicker of amusement before his features returned to something more neutral.
“They don’t, but it’s your first day back so I thought I’d give a helping hand. What’ve we got?”
“Um,” Dennis replied helpfully, looking at the boy who’d curled into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut.
As if he couldn’t see us then we couldn’t see him.
“Hello,” his attending said, approaching the bed slowly. “My name is Dr. Michael Robinavitch, but you can call me Dr. Robby.”
The boy only whimpered in response. Dennis understood the sentiment. He too wanted to lay down belly up when the man was anywhere in his proximity. Dr. Robby halted at the stool where Dennis had been sitting moments ago. The man’s gaze on his back was as heavy as a hand. He wanted to punch himself for wishing he was still sitting so he could bask in the man’s warm scent. It made him feel hot under the collar, but if anyone asked why he suddenly looked so flush, well he would blame the July heat until his mouth stopped working. Which, given his situation, seemed to have been the second Dr. Robby entered the space.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked gently.
The boy looked to Dennis. What was he to do but nod, turning to the doctor himself, the box of patches still clutched in his hands.
“I ran out of patches,” was all the boy said.
“Okay, do you have an alpha?” Dr. Robby asked, pulling the pin on the emotional bomb Dennis had narrowly avoided.
Both him and the boy flinched at the same time, although his was perceptively smaller, less noticeable. Or would have been had anyone else been in the room other than Dr. Robby. His eyes flashed to Dennis. Instead of taking the bait, Dennis looked to the boy with a look he hoped was encouraging.
“No,” his John Doe whimpered out.
“Okay. Whitaker put in an order for a blood draw. You know the drill,” Dr. Robby said.
“No!” the boy cried helplessly.
“Dr. Robinavitch may I speak to you? Privately?” Dennis supplied, with far more confidence than he felt.
Dr. Robby’s eyebrows lifted with the formality. Instead of shooting him down immediately, as he should have–as was policy. He simply nodded his head to the curtain. Dennis aimed for a reassuring look at the boy as the two stepped out.
Dennis kept walking until he reached one of the quiet corridors that stemmed from the pitt. Every step fueled him, the burning rage that simmered under his skin. Not even his embarrassing crush could cool the flames that lapped at his mind. He had to be careful not to spew fire all over his attending. He was still his boss, his superior. In more ways than one, his brain added unhelpfully. Finally, he turned with his arms crossed in front of his chest, hoping that his demeanor came off as calm. By the incredulous look on Dr. Robby’s face, Dennis knew he was not succeeding.
“We can’t do the blood work.”
Dr. Robby’s eyebrows knitted. “We have to, it’s hospital policy.”
Dennis tried not to roll his eyes.
“He doesn’t want us to.”
“He’s an unmated omega Dr. Whitaker. The registry is there to help him.”
There was nothing he could have done that could have kept the scoff inside his body.
“The registry can harm more than it helps sometimes.”
“I will remind you that the registry is to keep alphas and omegas safe. Maybe his fated mate is out there waiting for him.”
The heat was clawing up his throat with nowhere to go but out.
“He’s a kid. He has no business worrying about his mate," he snapped. "And have you even considered all the ways that that information could harm him? Maybe he’s got parents that want to use his status to their advantage. Maybe he’s hiding from a particularly undesirable alpha. It’s not like the registry follows HIPAA. Anyone can access that information, access him.”
At some point, the volume has begun to escalate until he was basically yelling at his boss. Four days into his internship.
“Dr. Whitaker. I’m happy to see you worried for your patient. But you couldn’t understand because you’re a beta. Why don’t you go to the break room and take a beat to cool off before rounds begin. I’ll take care of this case myself.”
The words, while surprisingly weren’t said unkindly, left no room for interpretation. He’d yelled at his superior and been kicked off a case. His shift hadn’t even technically started yet. Dennis couldn’t explain to his attending why he was so angry, so afraid for the kid who was too scared to give even his name. He could do nothing, but walk right past the alpha who oversaw the emergency department.
Dennis didn’t make eye contact with the staff members whose eyes’ were trained on his flushed form. He stomped to the break room and shut the door, blocking off all the noise, all the parts of the ED that angered him. He loved his job because he got to help the world more than he harmed it. Today, he'd need to take extra precautions to remind himself of that. Remind himself that he couldn't and wouldn't be able to save everyone that came in.
He scowled when he took a deep breath. That warm scent went down his lungs like a smooth brandy and settled there.
He was so fucked.