Chapter Text
“You’re insane.”
“I’m a genius.”
“You are actually insane.”
“I am a genius.”
Robby sighs, shaking his head as he looks away from the other Alpha, going back to cooking dinner. Honestly, it was the most absurd suggestion he’s ever heard. Absolutely ridiculous.
“Pope and Whitaker?” Robby repeats, pausing his actions to once again gawk at his husband in disbelief. “I mean—“
Jack smirks, “I know. Talk about opposites attract.” He chuckles, smugly folding his arms over his chest to lean against the kitchen counter. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s ludicrous is what it is.” Snides Robby. “They’re— polar opposites! I mean, Dennis is—!”
“An Omega who wants an Alpha,” Jack starts, “and Andrew is an Alpha in need of an Omega. Like I said: it’s perfect.”
The remark causes Robby to scowl, defensively shooting back, “Dennis does not need an Alpha. He’s perfectly capable as an — independent Omega,” he cringes at his use of the phrase, having never been privy to it. Always feeling it was slightly patronising towards Ommie kind.
“Ah— I said want, not need,” Jack corrects, still looking far too pleased with himself for Robby’s liking. “You’re right: Dennis doesn’t need an Alpha. But he wants one.”
“Wha— what?!” Robby blunders, staring at Jack as though he’s completely lost his mind. “No he doesn’t— why would you even—?”
“Oh please,” the other doctor snorts, “of course he does! Are you telling me you’ve never noticed how he naturally always gravitates towards Alphas? You, me, Santos… how he’s always looking up at us with those big, sad, puppy dog eyes — like this!”
Jack parodies Whitaker’s typical sad facial expression; making his eyes look big and wet, while furrowing his brows with a sad little pout. Despite himself, Robby sniggers — immediately seeing the resemblance. It really was remarkable how Whitaker — despite being one of the most promising young doctors Robby has ever worked with — always manages to resemble a little lost lamb. Trailing after his colleagues in the ED with bright, hopeful eyes, and lapping up any crumbs of praise they have to offer him.
It’s adorable. As patronising as it may sound — but Whitaker was adorable.
“He wants a pack,” Jack continues, voice softening, “it’s clear he misses being a part of a family, and I know better than anyone what it feels like to go from being in a big pack, to suddenly having no one. It’s hard. It’s scary.”
Jack’s vulnerable confession causes something painful to twist in Robby’s chest — well aware of his husband’s less than stellar upbringing in California. With his cynical mother, and equally disturbed four younger half siblings. Janine — or Smurf, as she insisted being called — had mothered Jack at a very young age. Dragging him into shit no child should ever have to be made apart of.
Though Jack had never gone into specifics, it was clear to Robby he had done things with his family he wasn’t proud of. Which was shocking, considering he’d ran away from home to join the army as soon as he’d turned seventeen — which meant Smurf had him running criminal errands when he was only a child.
It was sick. Damn right sick.
Even so, Jack has always regretted leaving his younger siblings alone with their mother — especially the twins, Andrew and Julia. It doesn’t matter how many times Robby assures him that he did what was best for his wellbeing, Jack will forever carry that guilt.
Hearing the news about Julia’s passing devastated him.
They’d attended the funeral: stood opposite the Cody family from the other side of Julia’s coffin. Smurf’s eyes boring holes into her oldest son from behind her shades. Challenging. Intimidating. Yet Jack never took the bait.
Instead, after the ceremony, he had calmly approached to offer his condolences to Julia’s son, J (who looked absolutely dumbstruck at the pretext of yet another estranged uncle). He’d barely said two words to the young boy, before Smurf swiftly sunk her claws into his shoulders, and steered him away from her “disappointment of an eldest son”.
Jack. A doctor and veteran. A disappointment.
Robby couldn’t help but scoff.
The rest of her family followed suit, except Pope. The other Alpha looking at his older brother with an unreadable expression. Again, Jack appeared unfazed: greeting his younger half brother with unwavering confidence. Pope didn’t respond. Just continued to stare back at him with that same cold, dead, look in his eyes.
Robby was sure he was going to try and kill them.
They were both well aware of Pope’s recent prison release. Aware of the fact he’d been convicted for bank robbery. In all honesty, Robby was surprised that’s all he’d been found guilty of — certain Smurf would have had him doing much worse by now.
Just as Pope was about to leave (having not spoken a single word during the interaction) Jack slipped a folded up piece of paper into his hand — telling him he was still living in Pittsburgh, and to call if he ever wanted out.
It was a nice gesture, though — at the time — thought to be a wasted one. Robby didn’t think Pope would ever actually leave, so brainwashed by his own mother that Robby doubted Pope would ever abandon her for good.
Turns out, he was wrong.
Jack releases a gentle sigh, drawing Robby back to the present as he watches his husband run a hand through his silver curls, “Dennis… having an Alpha… a mate to call his own… could do him some good.” He concludes, simply.
Robby shoots him a look, “And you think that Alpha is Pope, do you?”
Pope: a convicted criminal.
Pope: who has all the social grace and etiquette of a honey badger stuck in a cardboard box.
Pope: who downright terrifies Robby.
Pope: who is unpredictable. Mentally unstable. Violent.
Not right for Dennis Whitaker at all.
Shrugging, Jack shifts his weight from one foot to the other, features tense. “I know Andrew can be a little… Andrew. But he’s really trying to turn his life around. Dennis is sensible, patient, understanding… all good qualities that Andrew could use right now. He needs stability. Someone to show him there’s such a thing as kindness in the world.” He breathes out a chuckle, “Plus Dennis has got that “I’m a sweet, innocent, little Ommie” act down to a tee! Andrew will lap that up.”
Raising a brow, Robby looks at his husband in confusion, “Sweet, little, Ommie act?”
“Yeah, he does this—“ Jack again mimics Whitaker’s facial expression, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck while looking up at Robby through his lashes — resembling a stereotypical Omega. When he speaks, his voice is a slightly higher pitch, quieter, and a tiny bit whiny. “Can I get a wittle help here, pwease Alpha? I’m just a smoll, innocent, Ommie who wants a big, stwong, Alpha to take care of me~!”
Again, Robby can’t help but snigger at the impression, shaking his head dismissively. “He does not sound like that.”
“Yes, he does. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Jack grins, obviously lying.
Rolling his eyes, Robby tuts under his breath — continuing on with the cooking. As much as he loves Jack, there was no denying the other man could be a bit of a crackpot. A maverick whose ideas always seemed slightly harebrained. When Robby had suggested he take up a hobby — to help him cope with his PTSD — he’d assumed his husband would do something normal, like golf.
Not volunteer as a combat medic for the Pittsburgh SWAT team.
But then, that was Jack. That was his husband. That was the Alpha he’d unconventionally fallen in love with. And, as insane as his ideas usually were, Robby would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed how clingy Dennis was around his other co-workers — especially other Alphas.
Although Robby wasn’t completely aware of Dennis’s family situation, it was clear the young Omega was pack-less. For starters, Trinity was the young man’s emergency contact, despite Dennis frequently talking about having three older brothers, lots of niblings, and his parents, who happened to run a farm back in Broken Bow, Nebraska — where Dennis had grown up.
He never went home. Ever. Not at Thanksgiving. Not at Christmas. It was strange. Weird.
Any questions concerning his family would result in the Omega turning rigid — face falling with despondency and baby blue eyes glazing over with something akin to grief. He would always quickly excuse himself from the conversation, a fake smile plastered on his face as he tried to hide the obvious grief there.
Something had happened. That much was clear. And, whatever it was, had been bad enough that Dennis could no longer go home.
The kid finding himself an Alpha — a good Alpha, who would care for and love him — wouldn’t be such a bad thing…
Just not with Pope fucking Cody.
Robby takes a long breath, pursing his lips solemnly. “Even so, Pope is… well, they’re just not right for each other.” He remarks bluntly.
Jack scoffs, “Why?”
“Why? Because— well, just because!” Robby huffs, dragging a hand through his beard in exasperation. “Dennis is a sweetheart. Any Alpha would be lucky to have him as their Omega. He’s gentle, considerate, personable, handsome—“
“Is this your way of telling me you want to date him, or…?” Jack inputs with a quirked brow, looking mildly amused.
“— But he struggles to set boundaries.” Finishes Robby, narrowing his eyes towards Jack at the interruption. “He’s so worried about upsetting people, or letting others down, that he often doesn’t say no. I’m concerned that Pope might… impose his problems on him. Y’know — he’s got a lot of baggage. I don’t want Dennis getting caught up in all of that. You said it yourself; he’s kind. Maybe too kind for his own good…”
Uncomfortably, Jack shifts beside him — looking up at Robby with a dejected sigh. “Robby. You know how hard Andrew’s been trying to leave all that in the past. I mean— you’ve seen him! He’s doing much better now. Got a job… a place to call his own… he’s really turned over a new leaf.” Robby feels Jack rest a heavy hand atop his shoulder, leaning down to press a small kiss to his upper arm. “I know you still… struggle to see past his mistakes—“
“Mistakes?” Sneers Robby, “Understatement of the fucking year—“
“— But Andrew wouldn’t hurt Dennis. It just— he wouldn’t.”
Robby looks at him completely deadpan, “Jack. He’s a criminal.”
“He’s also my little brother.” Jack retorts, absolutely steadfast in his belief of Pope’s morality. “I know him. I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Dennis.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the still terrified ward clerk who you set up him up with last time.” Counters Robby, shuddering at the memory — recalling the awful tension at the Pitt the following morning after Pope and the ward clerk’s date. Pope hadn’t offered much explanation as to what had happened between them... All Robby knows was that the ward clerk still hasn’t forgiven him.
“In my defence: I didn’t set them up,” Jack opposes. “She asked if he was single. Requested I give him her number. I warned her he was… y’know — but she didn’t wanna listen, and… well…” he doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, instead opting to go back to the topic at hand — clearly also still affected by the awkwardness of the memory. “Anyway, it still doesn’t change the fact that I think Dennis and Andrew would hit it off, sooo…”
He gives Robby a look that’s all too familiar. His “I have a plan, and you’re gonna help me” look. It’s a look that fills Robby with dread every single time.
“No.”
Jack pouts, “Come on—“
“No way. Absolutely not.”
“Robby—” The silver haired Alpha whines, wrapping his arms around Robby’s middle, giving him a pleading look. “You just have to ask! That’s all! See if he’s interested—!”
Robby shakes his head, turning in Jack’s hold to face away from him, “I’m not helping you with your little scheme—”
“You’re not gonna help your husband with his genius scheme?“
“No. I’m not gonna help my husband with his insane scheme.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” mumbles Jack with an exaggerated sigh, going quiet for a moment. “Guess that means I’ll have to ask the kid myself, then.”
Robby instantly turns his head at that, looking at the other Alpha in mortification. Jack stares back, smugly — knowing he’s won.
Checkmate.
The thing is, Robby could let Jack approach Dennis to ask if he would be interested in a date with Pope. He could leave it to his husband to sort out, and remain the innocent bystander in all of this. But — being the control freak that he is — Robby can’t trust Jack to do it right.
Jack has a bad habit of being vague. Very vague. Whether that habit is the result of being raised in a crime family, or during his time in the military, Robby isn’t sure. What it means, however, is that he can’t trust Jack to be completely honest to Dennis about Pope’s… condition. And that wouldn’t be fair. The kid has a right to know exactly what he is getting himself into.
Jack might try watering it all down. Brush off any concerning qualities of Pope’s character like it’s nothing to worry about. If Robby did it though, he could be sure. Sure Dennis has all the facts. Sure he’s given the Omega enough warning. Sure he wasn’t going in blind.
“Fuck— fine.” He growls in annoyance, ignoring the entirely pleased look on his husband’s face. “I’ll— float the question with him. See what he thinks.”
Jack hums, satisfied. “Thank you—“
“— But I will be warning him. Okay? And I’m not gonna sugarcoat it either. I’m telling him, forthright, exactly who Pope Cody is.”
The declaration hangs between them both for a moment, neither saying another word. Jack purses his lips, the complacency he had obviously been feeling melting away into something more sincere.
Slowly, he nods in understanding. “Okay.” He whispers, leaning up to slide his arms around the other man’s shoulders to press a grateful kiss to his lips.
Robby can’t help but sigh into it, hands coming to rest on his husband’s hips as he pulls him flush against his body — dinner quickly becoming an afterthought. “Okay,” He hums in agreement. A deep chuckle rumbling from his chest as the earlier tension slips away, and something more intimate begins to creep in. “Does this mean you’ll let me top without a fight later?”
Jack’s cockiness returns at that, hazel eyes darkening as he releases a low growl — head dipping down to playfully nip at the claiming bite on Robby’s neck, causing him to hiss. He feels Jack grin against his throat, the other Alpha’s scent growing heavy with want, practically purring. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
It’s been a hectic day at the Pitt. Not the worst shift Robby’s ever had, but far from good. Back to back traumas, seemingly benign cases suddenly turning critical, aggressive patients…
It’s a lot.
Today has been a lot.
And yet… all Robby can focus on is the fact he’s still not spoken to Dennis about Pope. Which… he really doesn’t want to do. The more he thinks about it — the longer he hesitates — the less appealing the idea becomes.
Pope and Whitaker. A real life Beauty and the Beast. But it is by no means a fairytale.
Watching Dennis closely at one of the work stations, Robby feels that same sense of dread beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. Earlier that morning, Jack had mentioned he was planning to ask Pope today about whether or not he’d be interested in dating the Omega, and had made it clear that he expected Robby to do the same, vice versa.
“If you don’t ask him by the time I arrive for my shift, then I will.”
Robby’s watch read 6:10, meaning Jack would be arriving for his shift in about twenty minutes.
He was running out of time.
It was no secret that Robby felt a little… protective over his young resident. Accusations of favouritism had been thrown his way by various colleagues, but Robby couldn’t help it. There was something about Dennis that just made Robby want to root for him to succeed — and it has nothing to do with the fact he was an Omega working in an Alpha dominated field. In fact, no one had known about Dennis’s Omega status for a long time — the boy having heavily dosed himself up on hormone suppressants and blockers till he passed as a Beta.
It wasn’t until months after his initial start, when Trinity had arrived to work alone, that she’d privately disclosed to Robby (with Dennis’s written consent, of course) that her roommate was in fact an Omega. Robby didn’t see Dennis for a full week after that — the young doctor having taken time off to ride out his annual heat — and in that time, the entire hospital had been a mess.
See, as backwards as it is, there are still laws that dictate an Omegas presence in specific professions. These laws can vary from state to state: in some areas of the country, Omegas are able to easily pursue any career they desire — including roles in medicine. However, in other states, Omegas are not allowed to pursue roles as healthcare professionals.
While Pittsburgh’s laws surrounding the topic were far less severe than others, they are still relatively strict — and Dennis had sadly broken a few.
Gloria had been livid. She’d spent the entire week berating Robby for not seeing the signs — for allowing something like this to happen in her hospital. But what could Robby have done? How could he have possibly known? No one had spotted that Dennis Whitaker was an Omega. No one.
Once Dennis’s heat had finished, the repercussions for his actions began. Legal had accused Dennis of breaking two specific laws: the first being that all physicians must disclose their secondary gender to ensure their own safety, and the possible risks it may pose to patients. The second law was that the endorsement of suppressant’s and blockers must be obtained from a legitimate medical supplier within each state.
Robby was certain Dennis was fucked.
It had been awful to think that someone as promising as Whitaker, so bright and capable, was about to lose everything he had worked so hard for — and all because he hadn’t felt comfortable disclosing his secondary gender.
Though Pittsburgh as a whole is considerably more progressive in its treatment towards Ommies, there is still an issue of societal bias and inequality. Omegas aren’t meant to be doctors. Nurses, maybe, but not doctors. They are too emotionally inept for that. Not as intelligent or competent as their Alpha counterparts.
And male Omegas— well… there was a special kind of enmity towards them. Some still considered male Omegas repulsive. Abominations. The mutants of society.
Robby had witnessed the prejudice countless of times — from both patients and physicians alike. Seen many Omegas drop out of medical school and quit the profession all together due to discrimination. It was no wonder Dennis had wanted to keep it a secret… especially when his home state, Nebraska, was renown for having some of the strictest laws against Ommie rights.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But it was the law, and Dennis had definitely broken it.
Robby lost all hope when Dennis tearfully declared to him that he had been obtaining his treatments from a drug dealer. Not able to afford them on his medical insurance, and also not aware that in Pittsburgh he didn’t need permission from his pack Alpha to take them (a law still enforced in Nebraska).
The evidence was all there. A glaring, red, beacon that could be seen from miles around. Dennis was guilty.
…until he wasn’t.
Because, upon further investigation, it appeared that Dennis had listed himself as an Omega. It was there, on his record, for all to see.
But, if that had been the case, Robby would have been made aware of the boys secondary gender that very first day of his rotation. From what he could recall, Dana had told him that the only Omega present among the fresh batch of students was Javadi — the rest a mix of Alphas and Betas.
So… how had that been overlooked?
Then there was the issue of the acquiring of his medication. Dennis had explicitly told Robby about purchasing them from a dealer — Robby knew this for sure.
So why did it now state that he had been prescribed the medication from a local physician, who — upon further questioning — revealed Dennis had been attending regular appointments with him since his arrival in Pittsburgh?
That… didn’t make sense.
Gloria wanted to dig. Robby also wanted to dig. Because Dennis was no liar. If he said he’d bought his treatments from a dealer, and had kept his secondary gender a secret in fear of backlash, then that was the truth.
And yet… all the evidence said otherwise.
“The way I see it, the only person with a claim here is Dennis. It’s not his fault HR fucked up and made assumptions.” Jack had said a little too loudly, after ease dropping in on Robby and Gloria’s conversation near the Hub.
Gloria had done a double take at that, ears prickling at the mention of a potential claim. “Assumptions?”
“Is that not what happened?” Jack innocently asked, cocking his head to one side. “I mean… his records clearly state he’s an Ommie. It really should have been checked to confirm whether he was a Beta or not. I’m just wondering if maybe certain… physical attributes clouded someone’s judgment upstairs?”
Gloria’s face turned red. Jack’s words ringing true for all to hear: because, really — if Dennis’s records had in fact always stated he was an Omega — then that meant someone upstairs had based their assumption of his gender on appearance alone.
In comparison to the average Omega, Dennis did have slightly broader shoulders and narrower hips. His face — all be it sweet — didn’t have that same androgynous quality that most male Ommie’s had. At a glance, he easily passed as a Beta, but Robby knew that it was never safe to assume. Especially in a hospital.
The issue of Dennis’s secondary gender was swiftly swept under the rug after that. Gloria never bringing up the issue again.
Now, had they kept digging, they probably would have noticed a few things. Like how the pharmacy — Dennis apparently collected his prescription from — had no record of him. Or how there were no receipts, or transactions present on his bank statement to suggest he was paying for monthly treatments. An even closer inspection would reveal that Dennis’s physician was also a close friend of Jack’s. So close, in fact, that he had been one of their groomsman at their wedding.
Hm. Interesting.
Small world, right?
It didn’t take a genius to determine who was responsible for tampering with Dennis’s records — and, while Robby was curious to know just how Jack had managed to hack into the hospitals computer system, he was also content with not knowing.
His husband had committed a crime after all. That wasn’t something to celebrate… even if it was for a good cause.
Neither Alpha ever openly addressed it. Both just satisfied with the knowledge that they knew the truth, and that it would remain a secret between them. The closest they ever came to talking was when Robby made a passing comment about how relieved he was for Dennis. Mentioning how he couldn’t believe HR could screw up so bad, and put the young doctor under so much unnecessary pressure — his eyes carefully observing Jack’s reaction to his words.
At a glance, Jack didn’t appear at all fazed — his eyes still focused on a patient’s chart he was reviewing. Merely humming in response, nodding his head in agreement.
“Kids gonna be a good doctor someday. Him being an Omega shouldn’t get in the way of that.”
That was all Jack said, and Robby didn’t feel the need to push for more.
From what they’ve heard, Dennis still attends regular appointments with that physician. And now receives his meds from an actual pharmacy.
He looks healthier: skin no longer a ghostly white, eye bags less prominent. His mousy brown hair has grown, natural curls kissing the base of his head (Trinity has taken full credit for the new hairdo, of course). The timid little med student Robby first met over a year ago is now standing tall with confidence. He is thriving. Glowing. And Robby couldn’t be more proud of him.
Which is why he didn’t want him anywhere near the mess that was Pope Cody.
6:15… he had fifteen minutes.
It was now or never.
“Dr. Whitaker,” he says, stepping over to the work station where Dennis was currently seated — finishing up on his charting.
At the call of his name, the Omega looks up, blue eyes lighting up in recognition. “Oh! Hey, Dr. Robby,” he smiles, giving the Alpha his full attention.
Robby wishes he’d tell him to fuck off. That he was too busy to talk right now. Too busy to entertain the idea of going on a date with Pope Cody.
But Dennis has always been too sweet.
Leaning against the work station, Robby awkwardly clears his throat — attempting to make some small talk before dropping the bomb. “How’re you doing?”
Dennis shrugs, smile wavering momentarily as his eyes find the screen of his computer again. “Ugh— I’m doing alright… I think.”
“You think?” Robby frowns. That didn’t sound good…
Sheepishly, Dennis shrugs again. “Well — ugh — I’m just catching up with my charting and stuff, so…” his sentence trails off, leaving Robby with no explanation as to why that was an issue.
“So…?” Robby waits, expecting him to elaborate. “No issues?”
“Not that I know of,” the Omega says, before adding a quiet, “yet.”
And there it was.
Despite having come so far in his residency, Dennis was still riddled with enormous self doubt. It was exhausting in some ways. The kid knew his stuff. He was a hard worker. A good doctor. There was no reason why he should ever think otherwise. Absolutely none.
Offering his resident a reassuring smile, Robby gives him some encouragement, “I’m sure you’re doing just fine, kid. Have a little faith in yourself.”
Bashfully, Dennis’s cheeks turn a tad pink, returning the smile. “Y-yes, Dr. Robby,” he replies, only to whisper a less than confident, “I’ll try, sir.”
They still had a long way to go, it seems…
“Actually, Dennis…” Robby clears his throat again — a nervous habit he’s had since childhood. “Are you… erm…”
His voice fails him, words lost on the tip of his tongue as he desperately tries to find the appropriate way to broach the conversation.
Hey Dennis! How would you like to go on a date with my notorious convict brother-in-law? Appealing attributes include being an obsessive cleaner, having a crazy violent temper, and a stare that will make you piss yourself! Sound fun?!
God… he was going to kill Jack for making him do this.
“S-sorry,” he stammers, “this is gonna sound so inappropriate, but… are you seeing anyone at the moment?”
Taken aback, Dennis’s eyes widen in surprise. Brows furrowing in confusion as his gaze flickers from Robby’s face, to his wedding band, and then back up again. “S-sir?”
“It’s just—“ Robby quickly starts to explain, not wanting to give Dennis the impression that he was the one asking (Jack was enough for him, thank you very much), “my brother-in-law — well, Dr. Abbot thinks you two could really hit it off, so I didn’t know if… you would be interested in that? If you were single, and would be interested in… that.”
It’s awkward. It’s so awkward, and all Robby wants is for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
He is definitely going to kill Jack.
Realisation, and an inch of relief (bit rude), floods Dennis’s face, shoulders relaxing slightly. “O-oh…”
“You don’t have to! And I will warn you now Pope— Andrew, is a very… complicated individual.” Robby clasps his hands together, pursing his lips as he gives the younger resident a sincere look. “He’s got issues. A lot of issues.”
So many issues…
Dennis is silent for a moment, gaze lowering to the side and forehead pinching as he thinks. “W-wait…” he then murmurs, apprehensively looking back up at Robby. “Andrew as in… Dr. Abbot’s brother who came in that one time with a stab wound and head trauma… from the bar brawl?
Ah. So they have met.
Robby bites the inside of his cheek. “Y-yes. That would be… him.”
“The same Andrew who triggered a code Hula Hoop, after threatening Jesse and Donnie with a scalpel…?”
The very same. Though he’d done a bit more than just threaten them…
Poor Jesse and Donnie didn’t know what had hit them.
Robby was aware of Pope’s… hang ups around hospitals. Too many germs. Too many people. Too much noise.
He absolutely hated them.
In the past, whenever Pope needed medical attention, he would usually just go straight to Jack. If his older brother was on shift, he’d call ahead, and Jack would arrange to meet him in a quieter area of the hospital — away from the chaos of the ED. On this particular occasion, however, Pope had been brought in by the police.
A fight had broken out at a nearby bar, and Pope had gotten involved. He hadn’t been the one to start the fight — which was nice to know — but he had broken another Alpha’s jaw, and dislocated their shoulder… and broken three of their ribs.
Small wins, Robby supposed.
Pope had been furious. As soon as the paramedics had wheeled him in, he had completely lost it. Screaming for them to let him go, that he didn’t want to be here, that he didn’t want help. Robby attempted several times to try and calm his brother-in-law down, but it was no use — Pope was beyond himself. Snarling and gnashing like a crazed dog at anyone who got too close.
They sedated him in the end. It was only a small sedation — just enough to knock him out and keep him pliable while they took care of his injuries (a stab wound to the side, inflicted by a broken beer bottle, and a minor head injury). Once he was down, the police removed the metal cuffs restraining his wrists to the gurney, and Robby had Ahmad fetch the soft medical cuffs instead. He’d then left Jesse and Donnie to handle it alone, while he dealt with the other patient.
Dennis had been on shift that day, but, thankfully, had been busy dealing with his own patients at that time.
Robby thought he was making the right call, leaving the two nurses alone to work. For starters, Pope was sedated. He’d be asleep for a good half hour or so. Plus, Donnie and Jesse were Betas — their scents were considered non threatening in comparison to an Alphas, and not overwhelming like an Omegas. The two nurses also always worked efficiently together. Quick and no nonsense.
Robby was sure they would be okay…
He’d barely made it three steps outside the room before all Hell broke loose.
The sedation had worn off a lot faster than anyone had anticipated — Jesse having only managed to put one cuff on Pope’s wrist when the Alpha took a swing at him. Donnie managed to intercept the attack just in time for Jesse to duck out of the way, but Pope made a grab for the scalpel left uncovered on the nearby tray. Both Betas swiftly moved away from the bed, watching in horror as Pope swung the blade around wildly — screaming profanities at them.
Ahmad and Robby rushed in, both Alphas doing their best to try and restrain him, while Jesse and Donnie bravely tried to pry the scalpel from his grip. However, when Robby took a sharp head butt to the side of his cheek — vaguely wondering if that had been Pope’s revenge for when he had left a dirty mug in the sink, months prior — he momentarily lost his grip on the other man, and the scalpel went from being in Pope’s hand… to being stabbed into Jesse’s arm.
Huh.
The tussle continued for only a few seconds more before Dana came marching in; the Omega matriarch ordering the unruly Alpha to pack it in and quit acting like a wild animal.
Pope had instantly gone still.
Donnie and Jesse retreated out of the room, Robby apologising profusely as he got Mel to help remove the scalpel still imbedded in Jesse’s bicep (Donnie refusing to meet Robby’s gaze, while Jesse just stared down at his arm in bewilderment — as though the blade had somehow been put there by witchcraft). Dana then took over Pope’s care — the entire time letting the younger man know just what she thought of him harming her nurses. Pope sitting there in complete silence, looking like a scolded child, while she tended to his wounds.
He did apologise afterwards. And it was sincere.
Thankfully, neither Jesse or Donnie pressed charges — both a little hazy on the details of how the scalpel had ended up in Jesse’s arm — but they had made it clear that they would not be treating Pope Cody again.
Robby didn’t blame them, just like how he wouldn’t blame Dennis now if he chose to not go on a date with him.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.” He assures his young resident, “Po— Andrew doesn’t exactly have a stellar reputation. His childhood was a mess. He’s spent most of his adulthood a criminal, and has got the record to prove it. Mentally he’s… not all there either. OCPD… CPTSD… maybe BPD— yeah, it’s… complicated.” Robby explains, letting out a long breath. “But, he’s… doing better. He’s making a real effort to improve his life and… yeah.”
Thinking about it more, Robby can admit that Pope is a very different person now to who he was when he’d first arrived that night on Robby and Jack’s doorstep — soaking wet and completely inconsolable as he rambled on, and on, about Smurf, and Cath, and Lena. Repeating again, and again, that he hadn’t saved Julia. That he’d failed J. That he’d failed Julia. That he wanted Julia back. That he wanted his twin sister back.
Jack had shut Robby out of the living room that night — needing to talk it through with his brother alone.
Robby didn’t see his husband again until early the next morning; the other Alpha creeping into their bedroom before tentatively lying down beside him. They didn’t talk about it, Jack just stating that Pope was going to stay with them for a bit, before rolling over to pretend to sleep.
Robby knew he wasn’t really sleeping, but — again — made no comment. Just wrapped his arms tight around his husband’s body and drew him in close — heart breaking as he listened to his mates muffled sobs from where he had pressed his face into the pillow.
To this day, Robby still wasn’t fully aware of what had transpired between Pope and his family — but Jack had confirmed it was bad, and made it clear that Pope wouldn’t ever be setting foot in California again.
That had been three years ago now. Since then, Robby had managed to get Pope a job down at Duke’s motorcycle repair shop — the older man always singing the young Alphas praises for his work attitude and skills (though they often clashed about cleanliness — Duke less than thrilled about him being a neat freak). He eventually saved enough money to move into his own place — a huge relief for Robby — and hasn’t gotten into any trouble since the bar brawl.
His temperament has tamed, and he’s on antipsychotics to help maintain his mental wellbeing (though he still struggles to attend therapy appointments unless Jack drives him). Robby has even seen him smile a few times. It’s creepy, but nice… in a terrifying sort of way.
Being away from Oceanside — away from Smurf and his family’s influence — has changed him for the better. Jack has always stood firm that Pope is a product of nurture, not nature. Smurf had raised him to be their family’s attack dog, her very own Frankensteins monster, and Pope no longer suited that role.
“He’s not— a bad person. Just had it hard.” Robby continues, voice now taking on a softer edge. “Life’s not dealt him a kind hand, but he’s making the effort to improve and do better. Me and Dr. Abbot are making sure of it.” He breathes out a short laugh, before fixing Dennis with a sincere look. “Like I said, though; you can say no—“
“Er,” Dennis stutters, and Robby is surprised to see that the younger man’s expression isn’t as… repulsed as he expects it to be. Instead Dennis looks almost… flattered?
“I mean— I… I wouldn’t be against it?” The young Omega shyly says.
Robby blanks. “What?”
“Well… you said so yourself. He’s been dealt a hard hand in life.” Dennis’s gaze falls as he nervously taps his fist against his thigh. “I can… sympathise with that.”
Oh, Hell no.
“Dennis…” Robby says carefully, “as lovely as that is, I don’t think you’re quite getting just how severe Andrew’s issues are—“
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Dennis gives him a small timorous smile, “Matthew 7:1-2…”
Shifting forward on his stool, Dennis elaborates, “I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about Andrew Cody, Dr. Robby. But… I don’t feel it’s fair for me to form an opinion of him when I’ve only seen him once, and at his worst. Plus, if Dr. Abbot feels we would… get along, then I don’t see any reason why I couldn’t just meet him for a coffee? It doesn’t have to go anywhere, or turn into anything serious. We could just be… friends.”
Throwing the fucking Bible in his face. What a move.
Oh shit… Pope will love that.
What Dennis says is very kind. It’s sensible and mature. Very diplomatic. Very Dr. Whitaker. But Robby can’t help but think he’s being… naive. Because Robby knows Pope has done far worse things than the incident with the scalpel. He’s seen how bad his temper can get. Knows what he’s physically capable of.
The fact Dennis isn’t put off by any of it… well, maybe the kid is a little unhinged himself.
His mind drifts to Jake then — the closest thing he has to a son. He thinks about what he’d say if the roles were reversed, if it was actually Jake who wanted to date an ex-convict. What words of wisdom he’d impart on him.
He’d probably say something stupid. Something that would cause Jake to say “I hate you” and leave to date the criminal out of spite. Janey would be there to pick up the pieces, gently placing her hand on Robby’s shoulder as she’d wisely say that he needed to let Jake make his own mistakes, because that was the only way he would learn.
Robby has given Dennis a fair warning… now it’s time for the young man to make his own decisions.
“Fuck…” he breathes, “okay… well… Alright. I will let Dr. Abbot know you’re down, and… he’ll put you in touch with Andrew to arrange a date.”
His tone is flat, delivering it in a similar way to how he’d give a patient bad news. It’s not intentional, but he can’t quite mask his true feelings.
Dennis’s expression turns uneasy. “You’re… making it sound like I’ve just signed my own death wish, sir...”
Robby has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying “because you have”.
Instead, he softly pats the young Omega on the shoulder and straightens himself upright. “I’ll let you crack on with your charting, Dr. Whitaker…” he murmurs, before excusing himself — internally plotting just how he was going to murder his shit of a husband.
“So I talked to Whitaker,” is the first thing Robby says to Jack when the other Alpha arrives for his shift — his husband busy changing into his scrubs by the lockers.
Jack raises a curious brow, tugging his scrub top on over his head before giving Robby his full attention. “Oh?”
Humming in confirmation, Robby leans against the lockers, placing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “He’s down to go on a date with Pope.”
“Really?” Jack sounds… surprised. Almost like he can’t quite believe Dennis had actually agreed to it.
“Yep…” Robby replies, popping the “p” with a little too much force. He lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “I honestly can’t decide whether he’s the nicest person in the world… or the dumbest.”
He’s sure only time will tell.
His gaze returns to Jack, the other man busy putting his belongings inside his locker. “What about Pope? I take it he’s looking forward to dating our resident Huckleberry?” He says with a playful tone.
Jack turns oddly stiff at the question, pursing his lips. “Er… sure.”
Robby cocks his head, confused by the less than enthusiastic answer. After all, this was Jack’s idea. “Sure?”
The other Alpha releases a long sigh, looking at Robby with a slightly sheepish expression. “He was… less enthusiastic than I thought he’d be.”
What?
“In… what way?”
“In a way that maybe he… doesn’t want to be set up on anymore dates...”
What.
“Are you fucking kidding me.” Robby deadpans, his gaze burning holes in the Alpha before him.
After everything. After Jack had begged him to get involved.
Pope doesn’t want to be… set up on anymore dates?!
These brothers were going to be the death of him.
Jack shifts, “He’s just a little pent up because of what happened with the clerk—“
“Jack—“
“He’ll come round! He just needs a little time to… cool off.”
“Cool off?!”
“Things got heated. We both said things we’re not proud of. But the important thing is he didn’t get physically violent, or throw anything, so we’re making progress.” Jack says proudly.
He was insane. He was actually insane!
“Progress— Jack—?!” Robby gawks, “Jack — Whitaker—?!” He splutters, making a choked sound as he gestures wildly with his hands.
Jack gives him an apologetic smile, and it takes every ounce of self control for Robby to not smack it off his face. “Relax, brother. It’ll be fine, I promise.” He says calmly. “Andrew just… gets a little nervous about meeting new people. It’ll be chill.”
It’Ll bE cHilL…
Robby sneers, deciding then and there that Jack’s days were officially numbered. “Right… well, you can tell that to Dr. Santos when she comes looking for answers about her dead roommate.”
It was official: he’d sent Huckleberry to his death.
R.I.P Dennis Whitaker…