i retract and repent in dust and ashes

by blue65

Summary:

Dennis Whitaker tried to find answers in God. When that didn't work, he turned to medicine.

And when that didn't work, he turned to the two married attendings.

Or I heard we were making Dennis Whitaker have religious trauma and I decided to help out.

Notes:

this is a choice

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.” “Skin for skin!” Satan replied. “A man will give all he has for his own life. But now stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face.” The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.” So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.

Dennis Whitaker believed in a world of quid pro quo.

That probably wasn't the correct term. Faith with works, maybe. Actions speaking louder than the faith. The first shall be the last. The ultimate belief that in order to receive, you had to give. If you gave good to God, you would receive good back. If you gave bad, you received his wrath.

He learned it first with his siblings. Let them play with his toys, they might let him play with theirs. Keep a secret about who actually broke the handle of the snack drawer, earn a handful of Goldfish in return.

When their farm dog, Betty, gave birth to a litter of puppies, he squished among his siblings around the small stall in the barn. The wood of the stall door dug into his ribs, and he could barely breathe from the suffocation and the excitement of new life in the family.

His elder brother, Simon, had nudged him slightly with his elbow. “See that small one on the left? The one with the gray spot on its leg?”

Dennis nodded.

“That’s the runt.” He snickered. “That’s you.”

The other Whitaker children laughed. Dennis didn’t know what runt meant, but he knew what entertained his brothers meant it was probably mean and meant to humiliate him.

The blood rushed to his cheeks, then to his brain, and suddenly he was dragging Simon away to start a tussle of arms and nails on the hay covered ground. He got one good scratch on Simon’s cheek before their father was pulling them apart, and he was being sent to bed early. A lecture on violence, on turning the other cheek, when he wasn’t sure how fair that was when he was the one being beaten first.

A week later, the small white pup with a gray spot on its leg died. The mother didn’t even flinch when Dennis had carried it out of the barn. His father made him bury the tiny body in one of the fields, over by the woods, all by himself. He cried so hard he threw up on the ground, leaving the tiny bundle of cloth in a not too deep hole, pressing a small yellow flower onto its body. His siblings ignored him for a few days, save Sarah, his only sister, who could only express her fondness away from their brothers.

Sarah was only a few years older than him, just barely two grades above him. She made him his favorite type of cake when it was her turn to bake for the family, a lemon cake with a sweet vanilla icing on top. She had passed him the first slice with a smile. Like she knew that she couldn’t make it better. She couldn’t stop the scoffs of their brothers or bring that small puppy back. But she could bake him something sweet, and hold his hand while the other puppies found new homes.

Only when he took on the gross chores, cleaning out the stables and feeding the chickens, did his brothers seem to accept his existence again.

Quid pro quo. Turn the other cheek. Give, and maybe you can receive.

Then he learned again at the pulpit. Repent, and be saved. Give up your Earthly materials and follow. Cast your eyes not on the things of the world. Have that mentality that God would bless you and watch miracles fall down like manna from heaven. The meek shall inherit the Earth.

He learned later, away at college, the definition of prosperity gospel, the wonderful idea that if you are devoted enough to God, He will reward you. If you want wealth, success, acceptance; it can all be found. It can all be granted to you. If you want to have a good life, you have to be good enough for God’s standards.

So he would read his Bible every morning, pray before eating, tithe his pitiful allowance as a child, tried to be slow to anger, quick to forgive. And he started every day the same.

The first thing Dennis would do in the morning was pray.

It’s an unfortunate habit. When he was younger, when he believed that science was witchcraft and the secular world full of demons, he would wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing from the sheer relief of still being alive. His forehead would be covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he’d listen to the sound of his brothers breathing to make sure they were alive. On particularly bad nights, ones where he couldn’t stop thinking, he would crawl out from the bottom bunk, tip-toe to his parents room, and listen for their slumbering breath too. Just to make sure that God was still granting them the right to be alive, the gift of air in their lungs. And he always reasoned that even if the Rapture had happened in their sleep, at least they were a family, together, not alone, and he would go back under the hand-me-down quilt, the one his grandmother had sewn for his father, and drift back off.

Every time he opened his eyes in the morning, sometimes even before he realized he was awake, he was praying and thanking God for letting him live another day. Another day of being tormented by his siblings, being lectured by his father. Another Sunday sitting with an aching back against a wooden church pew, another afternoon of feeding the cattle, and another evening of his dad reading the Bible in the living room. He was grateful for it. It took him hours to fall asleep at night, in fear of being stolen away, called back to a home that wasn’t wooden floors and rolling skies on a front porch.

He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to leave his family, and so he was grateful for the days that he was granted.

When he got sick, that was a different story.

He remembers the thirst. The shakes after a longer day on the farm, not being given a break because of the incoming storms or the lack of helping hands. Getting snappy when his head was pounding behind his eyes, and being forced to clean up the dinner table alone as punishment when all he wanted to do was sleep.

One time, after he’d been tagging a newborn calf with his eldest brother, Nathaniel, he had fallen to the ground, tongue numb, legs filled with static. He could barely hear Nathaniel yelling at him as the calf had squealed and sprinted back to its mother, dust kicking up behind it. He doesn’t remember how he got back up, how they recaptured the small brown animal, how he got home after Nathaniel had angrily left him alone in the field, taking the beaten up truck back to the house alone.

He remembers being in pain.

They didn’t believe him. Being the baby meant that he was the laziest. Didn’t pull his own weight around the house, the farm, the church. He could be the first one to wake up before school to check on the chickens, and the last to go to bed after helping with the harvested crops. Dennis was still the problem, the burden, the reason things went poorly and not right. Not good.

He would pray at night to be good. Not perfect, just good enough. To be helpful, not harmful. And when he didn’t pray hard enough, crops would fail, animals would disappear, and his family would suffer. It felt like anything he touched fell apart in his hands, his skin poisoned with a sin he afflicted upon anyone who came near him.

At his yearly check up, when he turned ten, the doctor had ordered the blood test. The needle hadn’t hurt anymore than the burrs he pulled off of his jeans after a long day in the fields. Hadn’t pulled out any more blood either.

It wasn’t one of those diseases he watched other families ignore with their children. The younger boys whose legs would twitch at Wednesday night youth group, or the teenaged girls who would sit silently to the side at potlucks, a blank look on their face. Or like one of Dennis’s playmates at school who always had a rash on his arm, splotchy and red and angry. Or the girlfriend of his brother Elijah, who would get really winded when they played outside at recess, and would need to sit down.

This one was deeper. Rooted in him. Something unshakeable, unchangeable. Wrapped around his bones, his muscles, down to his core. It stuck to him in a way that nothing else did, not even God. And suddenly, it didn’t matter that he was handing over his chump change into the wooden offering bowl. That he let his siblings use him as an emotional and physical punching bag without hitting back. That he would take verbal lashings from his father when no one else would, and help his mother with the chores around the house when everyone else was piled in the living room, watching some preacher screaming at a crowd full of people about the dangers of the secular world. There was no escaping the thing inside of him, the disease in his body. God decided that he wasn’t good enough for a healthy body. So he got a sick one.

He didn’t think it was fair that his sin emerged as an illness for his family. Insulin wasn’t cheap, and insurance for farmers was next to nonexistence. He heard the hushed conversations with his parents. The hospital hadn’t been cheap, and being alive wasn’t any better. Watched the way his father came home later and left earlier working an extra job with the vet in town to supplement a little cash.

He prayed harder. Worked more. He learned how to control his blood sugars, how to need less food, less insulin. He could see the relief in his mothers eyes when she pulled that tiny vial out and didn’t need to open a new box.

And instead of being thankful he was alive every morning, he prayed and asked God to heal him by nightfall. He didn’t understand it, how he could have done so much right, and still be stuck with this awful disease day and night, waiting for a cure the doctor had told his parents didn’t exist.

When that didn’t work, he started asking for death. He clearly wasn’t good enough to be a functioning member of God’s world, so maybe he could go somewhere else. Everything was harder. It was harder to do his chores, to play with friends, to exist. He had been taught that to be a Christian was to suffer, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. To suffer every minute, every hour.

His parents were pious. His siblings were assholes, but they weren’t awful. So it had to be Dennis. There had to be something so evil, and twisted inside of him, some Adam and Eve level of sin that his entire family had to atone for.

Dennis was never that sure what that sin was until he walked into Youth Group one hot summer night when he was fifteen and laid eyes on the newest addition to Broken Bow.

Aaron was taller than him, but he never used it in a way that his brothers did. He never teased Dennis for his lanky build, all length and bones and no muscle. He had thick, coarse curls, and even deeper brown eyes. When he used those eyes to offer Dennis a glance, the boy could feel his entire body warming, a rush of something he couldn’t explain. He learned the name for it that same night. Lust. Something he needed to gauge his eyes out over, cutting off parts of him that he had always been told to stay away from anyway. He watched his brothers listen with a restless demeanor, eyes sliding across the room to look at a few of the blushing girls who couldn’t return the favor. He felt himself blush when he looked at Aaron as the youth pastor fussed at them about purity, staying clean, and how no one wanted damaged goods.

But Dennis already considered his body damaged. And he was so tired of not being good enough at home, or anywhere else. So when Aaron kissed him outside of the brick walls of the church that night, and he didn’t immediately keel over and evaporate, he knew that this was the reason he was sick without a cure. A physical manifestation of his sins. Of his wrongdoings.

And no prayer in the silent hours of the morning would heal him.

Aaron was only visiting for the summer. His parents had deemed him delinquent, and sent him to his uncle and aunt to fix it. Pray it out of him. But the same sin in Dennis was in Aaron, and for once, he didn’t feel so wrong. They made the most of it. Every hidden stroke of a thumb or pat on the back for a joke he stole from his brothers was filled with whispers of Do you even know? He watched his mom blush when his dad told her that she was still the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and would turn the same shade of pink when Aaron whispered that he thought that color blue looked good on him.

His brothers were glad they weren’t saddled with watching him anymore. His parents were thrilled that he had made a friend. No one noticed when the two slipped away to hide in the fellowship hall, exchanging messy kisses and secrets about themselves. Whenever Dennis’s blood sugar dipped a bit too much, Aaron was the one who volunteered to go with him to the church kitchen to make sure he was okay. They would skip out on worship night under the guise of a high blood sugar, a needed shot of insulin, walking outside instead, and letting their knuckles brush against each other, ever wary of the watching eyes of the steeple.

When August rolled around and Aaron was about to be shipped back home, Dennis pleaded and won, (with promises of doing extra chores), an unsupervised sleepover at Aaron’s place. The night was full of sleepy kisses, slight pain, then something blissful, and Dennis told everyone he was limping because he took a tumble down the stairs.

He spent the next morning rubbing his skin raw with a rag, so hard he bruised himself. Angry red marks, blooming purple under the cold water. Blood slipping out, reminding him of his crimson stain. He had flashes of the white puppy, that white coat, that pureness of snow. He wanted to be clean again, pure again. He cried in the tub, trying to convince a God who didn’t fully love him back for forgiveness. He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was asking forgiveness for. His God, his family’s God, had given him a broken body, and a broken need. He was trying to be good, trying to stay away from the temptations of Satan, but if it was God that gave him legs to walk and eyes to see, why did forget those parts that made him a good, Christian man?

Aaron left him, but the sin never did. Other boys looked at him, and he looked away. Kept his head down, focusing on school and the farm. He took a girl to prom at his mother’s insistence, never touching her, and looking the other way when another boy stole her away for a dance.

He took the teasing, the odd looks, the whispers in the halls, and in the pews. He read the Bible searching for answers that God wouldn’t give him. His siblings left until he was the only one alone in their shared room, no breathing to listen for, but he still woke up gasping for air, thinking I’m still alive, I’m still alive, I’m still alive.

His brothers left and came back married. Sarah studied locally, staying at home with him and their parents. She wanted to teach, but her father only humored the classes to help her find a husband. With each passing niece and nephew brought into the world, Dennis waited to find one that came out like him. A diabetic, a loser, a sinner. And every time they came out normal, he could breathe a little easier.

His father is the one that found his acceptance letter.

“Came for you today,” he said, voice gruff, but Dennis could see the torn paper. His hands trembled as he opened the envelope, a congratulations greeting him with the explanation of things he would need to call and ask for help understanding. “Makes sense you’d be the preacher in our family.”

If Dennis hadn’t spent years searching for it, he’d have thought that was pride seeping into his father’s tone. But that was a sin the family had always kept an eye out for.

“Always were more bookish than the rest. Shame to lose your help around here, though.”

“I can stay,” Dennis had offered, the response a grip around his neck, tightening with every quiet second. “I can always just stay.”

“Nonsense. You’ll go, you’ll come back. Just like your brothers.” His father nodded at his wife who was smiling faintly from the kitchen. Sarah was leaning against the wall too, smiling in a way that was all support, all excitement. “And you’ll be home in the summer anyway.”

Dennis stared at the paper, the major listed out as Religious Studies. Vague, and unhelpful.

But maybe there was someone at the college who could fix him, fix whatever was wrong with him.

Then he could get that cure, and finally be free from the burden God had given him so early on.

It wasn’t guaranteed. It wasn’t even worth a shot.

But Dennis prayed, and packed his bags.

Notes:

Wow. Okay.

Here's my resume:
1. PK (Preacher's Kid)
2. In the Bible Belt
3. Went to college to study religion, came out whatever this is

If this flops, I'm ghosting it like a bitch. If not...who knows.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Please check the updated tags. There is a lot going on, and you are responsible for the content you consume!

"Does Job fear God for nothing?” Satan replied.  “Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But now stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face - Job 1: 9-11

 

Christmas Break, Freshman Year

 

Dennis knows his family would never admit they’re glad to see him, but he can see the relief when he arrives home for his first break from school. His father had been struggling without the extra set of hands, and everyone was too wrapped up in their own problems to notice. Dennis tried to make up for his college endeavors by waking up earlier to help. Tagging calves, making sure the cattle had enough hay in stock, checking on the fertilizer in the corn fields. At night, he helped his mother with dinner, and the entire family would pile into the dining room, loud and laughing, and Dennis felt kinda whole again. No one asked about his classes or what he had learned. 

 

“You know, you look like the runt again,” Sarah informed him one night in the kitchen. It was the first time apart from the entirely too short forty minute drive to the farm that they had managed to be alone. They had volunteered to wash the dishes while everyone else went into the living room to watch some evangelical Christmas special. Dennis had been counting how many times the pastor referenced God without quoting an actual Bible verse. 

 

“What?” 

 

She nodded at his baggy sweatshirt and dark gray sweatpants. “You're practically drowning in them. Reminds me of that little white runt and how small he looked in that blanket you buried him in.” 

 

“Gee, thanks. That’s exactly what I was hoping my sister would ask me about while I’m home on break.” 

 

“When you eat less food than the four year at the table, I have more pressing questions about your behaviors at college.” She took the wet plate from his outstretched hand and started drying it with a towel. “You only called about needing a new prescription of insulin twice, Denny. You think I wouldn't notice?” 

 

“I’m just eating healthier. Less carbs, more movement.” He pretended to be very interested on a smudge of melted cheese on a plate. “I’m fine, Sarah.” 

 

“Mhm. And all that movement makes up for the hormone your body can’t produce? You’re so lucky to figure out a magic remedy like that.” She took another plate and dropped her voice. “Mom and dad can handle it, you know. They tithe enough to cover your insulin twice over.” 

“Good. The nursery at church needs a few new cribs anyway. And I know David and Hannah are pregnant again. She looked green every time someone passed the roasted carrots under her nose. They’ll need some extra help if she’s due around harvest season.”

 

“Dennis.” 

 

“Sarah.” He finally looked up from the sink with an exhausted look in his eyes. “Can you please drop it? Please.” 

 

He didn’t want to have this conversation because he knew how quickly it would all slide out. College was the worst thing that could have happened to him. 

 

He had nearly passed out when he met his roommate, a guy from California who had a stick and poke tattoo, and a bong that Dennis had thought was a lamp at first. The classes were harder than any singular one he had taken back in Broken Bow. 

 

The transition was difficult, and his body made sure to let him know it hated him for it. He couldn’t keep up with the lows and highs of his blood sugars. The first few weeks were pure hell as he navigated walking being his primary mode of transportation. But he picked up on a few hacks. If he skipped a meal when his blood sugars were stable, they’d remain stable. If he took a quick lap around campus when they started to spike, it meant saving a few units of insulin. Who cares if he could see how the waistbands of his pants started to grow in inches, or the way that his skin started to tighten across his bones? 

 

But of course Sarah noticed. Her eyes missed nothing, scanning over every inch of his body the second he had stepped out of the airport. Even though it looked like she wanted to do anything, with pursed lips and a sigh, she took the glass cup from his hands. “Fine. Fine. Tell me about that girlfriend of yours then.” 

 

The plate in his soapy fingers slipped and splashed into the sink, covering his entire front in warm water. 

 

“Mercy, okay. The classes then. Is that middle ground enough for you?” She shook her head, dirty blonde waves that matched Dennis’s own bouncing with her. 

 

“I don’t have a-”

“Nope, you’ve reached your limit on lies tonight. If you’re not going to be honest, at least tell me something entertaining. Even if it’s a boring fact about the Greek language or the type of linen the disciples wore. Throw me a bone of honesty, I beg you.” 

 

No one could sniff out his lies quite like Sarah. Then again, no one paid as much attention to him as she did. 

 

Dennis had gone to college hoping to find a few answers. Why his body was broken, why his prayers were broken, why his heart seemed to be fucked up too. 

 

The professors weren’t exactly helpful. They asked questions to his questions, starting a downward spiral that ended with him on his twin XL bed, staring at the Bible he was gifted at his baptism from the church. A leather bound, filled with underlined verses and highlighted chapters, a Bible, that should contain answers. His father could always quote the correct verses when Dennis misbehaved and fell short of the glory of the family. His mother knew the right ones to say when he had a particularly hard night of blood sugars, sleepless and fitful. 

He couldn’t find answers that angered or comforted him. He was thinking in context, in historical timelines, and cultural meanings. Letters to churches, not words from the mouth of God. He took classes to learn Greek and Hebrew, trying to get as close to the original language as he could, to get to the root of his sins. 

 

Arsenokoitai. Man and bed, or man and man? Consensual or non? Did it even really matter when he learned in his Present Day of the Church class that his religion had given up fighting for segregation to take on the much more important fight of being pro life? He’d been told his tax dollars went to murder babies, but according to the records, they went to give out birth control and prenatal care. His church didn’t have a free food pantry, but the local government had run one. In the city, they had shelters and centers and a type of good that looked so different from the one he had been taught growing up, so was it really so bad if they didn’t hand out bread with a Bible lesson attached? 

 

In a moment of pure desperation, Dennis signed up for his spring semester classes by taking the bare minimum of theology credits. He needed a break. Just a semester to recover and realign himself with his faith. His advisor had signed off on it with glazed over eyes and a mutter about reaching out over Christmas break. 

Dennis felt his faith slipping between his fingers. There was a sermon from his middle school days he could recall where the pastor had talked about how the children of God were uncountable, like the sand of the shore. It was supposed to be an encouraging speech about the army of God. But maybe he was getting lost in the erosion patterns. 

 

He missed his family. He missed his nieces and nephews. He missed the smell of farmland and non-polluted city air. The way that he could always breathe in scents of corn, and hay, and life. Not weed or vomit or mold from the showers. 

He loved his tutor for his college algebra class. Derek had glasses and short, straight hair, and let Dennis fall asleep in his bed after sex. He never commented on the textbooks Dennis carried, Saint Augustine’s Confessions or On Christ’s Last Words. He nodded when Dennis would go on tangents about his classmates. He kept a box of fruit snacks, and a bottle of apple juice in his fridge for whenever Dennis’s blood glucose would start to slip after sex. Because it always slipped, and he gave it away by how talkative he got in a poor attempt to distract.

 

“But if Jesus fulfilled the covenant on the cross, why do we still have people who are adhering to the Old laws? Why do so many denominations not have female pastors?” Dennis had ranted one night, curled up under Derek’s arms and relishing in the privacy of his apartment. “If it’s all fulfilled, why are we still fighting over things answered thousands of years ago?” 

 

Derek hummed as he shoved another fruit gummy into Dennis’s mouth.“I don’t know. But you’re not going to solve any problems unless you eat this entire pack.” 

Growing up, people always seemed to assume he just wasn’t aware, or didn’t know what certain things were. Certain emotions or jokes. Dennis wasn’t stupid. He knew what they were, what he felt, what sin it was. He could recite the passage from Leviticus, from Paul’s letter to Corinth, his letter to Timothy. He knew that feeling in his chest when Derek asked him to go to dinner, he recognized the spike in his adrenaline when he saw the familiar red hair across the quad, he knew exactly what it was. And he would whisper a quick prayer about it every morning and every night. 

 

When people talked about feeling the Holy Spirit, he always though it would be a warm feeling of pureness and balance. Not white hot, angry, and painful. It was the only thing he could feel when he left Derek’s apartment, or when he was treating a fucked up blood sugar. He couldn’t explain why God chose to visit him in those moments. 

 

Outside of that quick conversation in the kitchen, he wasn’t able to speak with his sister again. She was helping with the kids when he was taking a rest from the field, or she was in bed when he was finally coming home for the night. His father was not a conversationally driven person, and the quiet of home he had been craving started to feel like a suffocating silence. 

 

The only person he spoke to consistently was Derek, only over texts, never on the phone. He grew excited for the quiet nights in his childhood room to go through the messages. He still slept on the bottom bunk, listening for the breathing of his brothers he could no longer hear. 

 

When Dennis hugged his family goodbye for the spring semester, he could only think of all the ways he needed to make sure he didn’t have to be home for the summer months. 

 

For some reason, during that panicked meeting with his advisor, he had signed up for a multitude of science courses. Chemistry, biology, anatomy and physiology. Broken Bow High School had barely had updated textbooks, let alone decent lab equipment. The theology courses gave him ample opportunities to write papers and read. He needed a chance to do something with his hands, something he remembered he loved doing when he had wrestled one of the heifers into a pen for her yearly shots. 

 

It was more than a learning curve; more of a car crash. He couldn’t remember learning about half of the elements on the periodic table, let alone recall what the hell they were relevant to. The theory and math equations weren’t something he could follow. 

 

But the anatomy lab might as well have been his heaven. 

 

Cows and chickens and goats weren’t all that different from humans. When his classmates gagged into trash bags over the smell of formaldehyde and flesh, Dennis was the one holding the scalpel and pulling the eyes out of their dissections. He could name half of the muscles from years of talking to vets. It was like breathing. It was familiar. 

 

And there were always answers. There weren’t mysteries to the universe he couldn’t solve. There weren’t philosophical questions about the problem of God and evil. Debates over the correct denomination or interpretation of scripture. There were numbers, organs, and concrete solutions. 

 

It came with waves of guilt. Crashing over him like waves from the previous semester’s ocean. He came to school to discover the root of his sin, to find the best way to repent, and be saved. Not to avoid the calling of God. 

 

During his springtime advising appointment, the sleepy advisor had given him an impressed look while reviewing his current semester. The first sign of life out of the man. “Your grade averages are higher this semester than last. Which is saying something, considering you had a 4.0. Are you thinking about switching majors?”

Dennis could feel a slight uptick in his heartbeat. “To what, exactly?”

 

“Any science field. Pre-med, maybe?” The man shrugged. “Something to think about. You could always use the summer term to figure things out.”

 

Christmas Break, Sophomore Year

 

Nathaniel and Hannah’s new baby doesn’t stop screaming. 

 

She’s colicky, they insist, as they take turns rocking her and passing her around the family. Dennis thinks it might have something to do with the lack of medicine they will give her when she has a high fever. Sarah’s grimace only confirms his working theory. 

 

Katie’s a cute kid, adorable really. When Sarah picked him up from the airport, she’d been sleeping in the backseat, and they’d spoken in low voices for the drive home. 

 

But Dennis is woken up by her screaming when Hannah comes in with her and their two other children, Jonathan and Noah. The house has turned into some kind of familial daycare, Sarah and their mom working together with the in-laws to combat the now five grandbabies. Simon and Lucy are pregnant again, their second a boy as well. Elijah and Mary had no problem letting everyone know they were working on their second as well. 

 

“Just wait until you’ve got some of your own,” Nathaniel had told him on the back porch one night. He had been taking a quick lap around the edge of the yard to try and fight off the urge to eat more pumpkin pie and the impending holiday blood sugar spike. He had thought for a moment his brother had followed him out to talk before he had seen the small red pack of cigarettes. “I think it’s Hannah’s coddling. She won’t let Katie just cry it out.”

 

“I think mom’s got some baby Tylenol in the upstairs bathroom. Maybe she’s got some gas or something.” 

 

Nathaniel shook his head with a laugh, breath rolling into smoke in the below freezing Nebraska air. “We aren’t that desperate. You know what that shit does to a baby’s brain?”

 

Dennis does. He took a microbiology course that fall, and had learned all about how medicine impacted the body. He could explain why he got so hungry after a high blood sugar, why he needed complex carbs at dinner and simple ones during a low blood sugar. So he could explain why Katie might stop screaming with a little spoonful of grape flavored goo and be less damaging than the white stick between his brother's lips.

 

He couldn’t explain why Derek breaking up with him had made him spend an entire weekend weeping in bed. His dorm was apartment style, thank God, and his roommates were either oblivious or kind enough to ignore him, only leaving his room to use the bathroom or rehydrate to continue the crying-fest. The space had been worth the extra ten grand he’d had to take out in loans.

 

Derek had asked about meeting parents, and Dennis had stuttered his way through a panic attack. Derek had made it clear that day that he had no interest in being in a relationship with someone who was still in the closet. But there was no closet for Dennis to be hiding in; he wasn’t ashamed of what he was, only that what he was made him something he was never supposed to be. Something he couldn’t be, something worse than Tylenol for a baby that couldn’t stop screaming. 

 

But he had spent the summer at school, in between the pages of Paul’s letters to Timothy and a lab studying cellular biology. Paul couldn’t explain why he was sinful, but the lab could break down his evil into nameable parts. 

 

“Just a thought,” he mumbled back to his brother, leaving him on the porch to sulk. Or avoid his family. Re-entering the chaos, he nearly fell over as his now five year old nephew Silas nearly collided with him. The small boy was clutching a doll that clearly belonged to his younger cousin, Jane, who was hot on his heels screeching. 

 

“Hey, Si, buddy, maybe you could-” 

 

“Don’t,” Sarah advised him from her spot at the kitchen table. She was working on wrapping up another present, eyes on the angles of the paper. “They’re nearing bedtime. The more they run, the more tired they’ll get, and soon enough they’ll crash and leave. Then maybe it’ll be quiet. And Silas bites when you get on to him.” 

 

Dennis made a face, but nodded. “Need any help?” 

 

“With wrapping up the presents mom and everyone else said they would do?” She shook her head as she taped down a corner. “If you help, I have to go sit and watch Joel Olsteen’s Christmas special.” 

 

“And that isn’t your ideal Christmas Eve?”

 

She shot him a look. “College could have taught you a sense of humor. I could use the company. As long as you don’t ask me to tell you a story, I won’t kick you out.” 

 

“Not even a Bible story?” he teased as he slid into the chair across from her. He slid one of the wrapped presents back and forth between his hands. “I could tell you one for once.” 

 

“No, thanks. I’m more interested to find out why I found a copy of Grey’s Anatomy in your room.” 

 

It’s a white hot panic in his chest, burning him as it flows down his arms and legs, anchoring him into place. Any chill from the outside dissipates as he can feel the blood in his cheeks burning. 

 

“Relax,” she mutters, still not even looking at him. “I was the only one who saw it. I was getting laundry for mom. It slipped out of the covers, and I remembered you saying you’d finished your science credits over the summer.”

 

That had been his cover to avoid coming home. That and a pretend internship at a local church. A local church that didn’t exist. 

 

“I was cleaning out my dorm and thought I’d bring it home. Just trying to make room for the theology textbooks. I’m taking a heavier load in the spring. Hermeneutics and then Hebrew Prophets. Oh, and Pentateuch. More of an Old Testament approach.” 

Sarah slapped a finished bow on top of the box and finally looked at her younger brother. Her face was unamused, brows furrowed. “You do know that you are my favorite because you don’t bullshit me, correct?”

 

“I thought it was because Simon called you a spinster at dinner the other night and the others laughed.” 

 

“No, that is the reason why his darling little Peter is currently using a glittery lipgloss as a crayon on his dad’s work papers. I like you because you’ve never given me a reason to torment you back. Or torture, if you want to be accurate.” She handed a spool of ribbon to Dennis, and picked up the next box. “So don’t start lying now. You change your major at school?” 

 

“No. No. I swear, I’m still-” he tries to take a deep breath. “I’m still on the Religious Studies track. I’m going to a job fair for seminaries in the spring.” 

 

He was also going to a career fair for STEM majors. He wasn’t technically a double major, too terrified a slip of paper with that secret would slip into the family’s white mailbox and into the hands of someone who would pick up the phone to yell at him. But he might as well be Pre-Med and Religion. A combination that might have him working in a hospital chapel or back on the farm explaining to the heifers why they had to suffer through childbirth because of their anatomy and Eve’s pitfall into temptation. 

 

“I’m still in that program. I’m just…” he rolls his neck, rounding out his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just trying to learn some new things.” 

 

Trying to understand the body that God gave him. Trying to understand why he has to get a rush of blood to the cheek when the cute worker at the library gives him a smile across the cafeteria. He keeps waiting for something in every class. A verse, a disorder, a condition. He can explain why the early Church had female deacons and why that doesn’t happen anymore. He can explain why he can sit at his family’s dining room table in a sweater of blended material and not be struck down. He can tell his endocrinologist why his blood sugars keep spiking and plummeting every Saturday night when he invites whatever match he makes on those stupid dating apps he deletes Sunday morning and redownloads by Wednesday. 

 

He just can’t explain why the hell he keeps doing it when he’s supposed to be finding a wife. 

 

“I’m seeing someone,” Sarah says quietly. 

Dennis’s head shoots up. His sister’s cheeks had gone pink and she wouldn't meet his eyes. 

 

“It’s casual. Well, as casual as it can be since his family doesn’t know and neither does mine. And we’ve been seeing each other for almost a year. And haven’t told anyone. Besides you. As of right now.” She rubs her eyes. “Fuck, I told him I could keep it quiet.”

 

“Do I know him?” 

 

“No. He moved here after you left.” Sarah keeps rubbing her eyes. “We met at the farmers market, because I live in the fucking eighteenth century. I went out unchaperoned and now I’m in a secret torrid love affair.” 

 

“Wait, is he-” 

 

“No, God, fuck, no. No. He’s divorced.” Her fingers slip apart to meet his wide eyes. “And Catholic. And left handed, so I guess he’s the Devil in every way a suitor of mine could be.” 

Dennis can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, and the laughter that follows. Sarah mutters a curse and throws a spool of green ribbon at him. “No. Shut up. No. You stupid, little- Dennis Whitaker, I will tell our parents you dared broaching the idea of modern medicine. I’ll tell them you’re going out to frat parties every night.” 

 

“You have a crush! You like-” he drops his voice to a whisper, ever mindful of eavesdropping family members. “-a boy!” 

 

“Asshole. You are an asshole, and I hate you.” She reaches across the table to grasp one of his hands, curling around them with pink nails. Her grin is mirrored of his own, and Dennis loves that out of all of the members of his family, he looks most like his big sister. “You are an asshole, and I swear, your secret is safe with me.” 

 

Sarah sends him a picture of her and her boyfriend at a biking trail a few miles outside of Broken Bow after he returns to school. She looks happier than he’s ever seen her, and something not quite like jealousy floods his system. 

 

Christmas Break, Junior Year 

 

For once, it’s not Sarah that picks him up from the airport, but Simon. His older brother only grunts responses to his probing questions until he gets irritated enough to dial the radio up and let some pastor screaming about the dangers of females in positions of leadership fill the car. 

 

Everyone is angrier at home. The lack of greetings isn’t necessarily abnormal, but quiet is. He barely gets a hug from his mother before he’s being handed a list of chores they need him to do. It keeps him busy for the remainder of the day, and he collapses into bed before he can track down his sister. 

 

It’s like that the next day. Sick goats, a corner of a field where the cattle are overgrazing, a stall in the barn that needs to be fixed. The entire farm is silent while he works, only the wind, the eventual snow. Then it’s Christmas Eve. 

 

He’s convinced he’s pissed Sarah off, based on lack of texts since the summer, when he refused to come home again. A pastoral study abroad, he’d lied. Instead he was working in a local free clinic. Just restocking items and helping with scheduling, but it was something. It paid enough to cover his rent for the summer and for a few restocks of insulin and blood glucose monitoring strips. That, combined with his unfortunate student job as a Resident Advisor for a hall of freshmen that gave him free housing, was keeping him afloat and keeping him from contacting his parents for funds. 

 

He had connected more with the staff and patients at the clinic than he had at his mandatory internship during the fall semester. Those hours in a church pew had been the most wasteful ones of his college career. 

 

And when he had made the incredibly foolish choice to hook up with the sound and tech supervisor after a church wide worship service, he had decidedly written off that church as a potential employer. 

He was a shitty brother for abandoning her yet again, but he really wanted to talk to her about his courses, and his plans for senior year. His biochem professor, Dr. Bell, had cornered him to talk about long-term plans one day after class. 

 

“I usually wait for students to talk to me about recommendation letters, but I wanted to let you know ahead of time, whatever schools you apply to, send me a list. I’ll get them all in on time.” 

 

Dennis had tilted his head, a ratty Jansport backpack hanging from his shoulder. “Schools?” 

 

“Med schools. I’ve got some pull at my alma mater, in Florida, but if you’re wanting to stay in the area, I have some connections here as well.” 

 

The white hot guilt was seeping into his chest. He felt like he had done something wrong, God’s watchful eyes over his shoulder as the Devil laughed in front of him. “No, sir, I’m - I’m a Religious Studies student. I’m going to be a pastor.” 

 

Dr. Bell clearly had enough teaching experience to not look surprised. “Well, you’re a junior. Take your time thinking things over. Any medical school would be lucky to have a student like you.” He clasped his hand on Dennis’s back with a sharp pat and a, “See you on Thursday.” 

 

The walk back to his dorm had been hazy. He’d wasted a blood glucose strip to make sure he wasn’t plummeting. The praise had shot to his head and clouded his focus. He’d tried calling Sarah that night, but she hadn’t picked up. He’d reasoned that she was probably busy with the kids or boyfriend, and he could talk to her at Christmas. Because she hadn’t picked up in a while. 

 

Christmas Eve dinner was incredibly awkward. Silas and Jane had the bravery to ask loudly where their favorite aunt was, snapped into silence by their parents. Katie had upgraded from crying to launching her food onto the floor and creating a puddle of baby food that no one seemed inclined to clean up.

 

He was stuck doing the dishes in silence, no Sarah pulling conversation out of him with a grin and tease. The volume of the TV in the living room was higher than normal, and he could hear Noah and Jonathan fighting over one of their toys in the dining room. The kids seemed to be spread out across the house, away from the living room, and it’s the only reason he has the bravery to leave the dishes drying on the countertop and join his family in the living room. 

 

Simon and Nathaniel are in an argument over something while the wives are all congregated quietly on the other couch, wrapping presents in a way that looks so off and wrong because Sarah used bows and sharp scissors and made sure the colors pop. 

 

When he watches Lucy barely manage to tie together a decent bow on top of a box with brown peeking out the the side, he manages to find his voice to ask, “So when is Sarah getting here?” 

 

The air is sucked out of the room. Hannah stops cutting the green and red stripped paper. His brothers stall in their conversation. His dad sits up a little straighter from his spot at his leather recliner. 

 

“What?” his dad asks, stern blue eyes looking over at Dennis for the first time since he got home. 

 

“Sarah. We did dinner without her, but is she coming later tonight or just tomorrow?” He wrings his hands back and forth, still wrinkled from the dishwater. “I just haven’t seen her yet, but I mean- is she sick? Or out on an errand?”

 

 His mother glances nervously at the chair holding her husband, his face growing red. “Natahniel, I thought you had told him.” 

 

“No, Simon was going to call. He said he could be the one that did it.” 

 

“Me? It was supposed to be you. You told everyone you’d handle the burden as the eldest child.” Simon snorted. “Really responsible of you, Nate.” 

 

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn't notice.”

 

“Your wife is always pregnant. Real quiverfull of you.” 

 

“Tell me what?” Dennis cut them off. 

 

No one could quite meet his eye, but no one dared to look over at the patriarch. For some reason, his chest was white hot again, guilty and ashamed all at once. 

 

“Your sister isn’t welcome here anymore.” 

 

Dennis couldn’t move. “What?” 

 

“Your sister isn’t welcome here anymore. Not in this house, not in this family.”

 

“Sarah got herself knocked up,” Elijah said with a sneer. It looked like the same one he would make when a goat would kick Dennis or when he’d ask if he could play with him. “Some fucking Catholic piece of shit. Didn’t even have a ring on her finger.” 

 

“Where is she? Is she okay?” 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” His father turned his attention back to the TV screen. 

 

“Don’t care?” 

 

“She packed her shit and left, Dennis.” Elijah shrugged. Haven’t heard from her since June.” 

 

“And none of you wanted to tell me?” 

“Oh, come on, college boy,” Nathaniel laughed. “You’re out there working on being so holy and pure. We figured you’d be the first one to tell her she needed to repent or go.” 

 

“I wouldn't have said that. Why the-” he runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus, why the fuck would I say that to her?”

 

“Hey!” His father snapped. “I shouldn’t be correcting the future pastor on the Ten Commandments. Your sister is lost in her sin and dead to us.” 

 

“She’s pregnant, with a man none of you know, and you haven’t heard from her in months, but she’s dead to you?”

 

“I’m sure Sarah is fine wherever she is,” his mother said without looking directly at him. 

 

“And if she’s not? If she doesn’t have access to her prenatal meds? Or has high blood pressure from the stress of everything, or an ectopic pregnancy or any one of the thousands of things that she could be facing?” 

Now everyone is staring at him like he’s the freak. He internally curses his tendency to ramble when he’s nervous or stressed and wishes that he had never learned how to speak. 

 

“Where in the God-given world did you get all of those worlds from?” Simon asks with a frown. 

 

“You all talk about it every time I visit. Someone’s always-”

 

“Not about that type of stuff. I mean, last time we heard that load of nonsense was when Hannah was pregnant with Silas. Went and saw a quack who wanted her to get on all sorts of nonsense.” Nathaniel is staring at Dennis like he had spoken in tongues. “Where did you get all of that from?” 

“I-I took a few science courses, I told you-” 

 

“You said those were animal science courses. For the farm,” Simon says. He leans in, like he can smell the upcoming kill. “What courses are you taking up there, Dennis? Something on cures and delusions?”

 

The guilt spreads through his chest and arms like an unholy Spirit. He remembers times he prayed for feelings like this, for a moment alone with God. 

 

“No, I just, I've taken a few Pre-Med courses. Just for some credit.” 

 

The entire room explodes. Simon is laughing, Elijah is yelling, and Nathaniel is screaming. His mother tries and fails to get them to lower their voice, please, before the children hear and get upset. But Dennis doesn’t care about any of that. He can only look at his father, face red and bitter and shocked. 

 

“It’s not like that, I swear. I just…I did well in them. I got the material, I did good and I’m just…preaching might not be for me-” 

 

“So our parents went into debt not only for your disease, but for your secular fairytales?” Nathaniel yells. His wife is trying to speak but she’s waved off angrily. “You leave us to run the farm, to pay for your medical bills, and you come back with some liberal nonsense? At least Sarah had the decency to fulfill her role as a Christian and bring a child into the world!” 

 

“What the fuck does that have to do with my education??”

“Well, Dennis, you act like you could be a pastor without a wife to help,” Elijah snarks. “That’s the role, that’s the Lord’s will and you’re telling us you don’t want to fulfill the Lord’s will?” 

 

“Fulfill it with-” Dennis is seconds away from screaming or crying or pleading. He doesn’t know what to do, what can fix this moment.  “I never said I was going to be a pastor. I never said that was what I wanted. That role, that job, the wife; none of it!”

 

It’s the wrong thing to say. It’s the wrong thing to say because now there’s a new silence in the room. Anticipatory. He watches his family hear the words, process them, and the realization settles in. 

 

“Dennis?” his mother whispers, shock and disgust on her face. 

 

“No, not like-” is his blood sugar dropping? Is his body ever going to cool back down? Is he going to be allowed to breathe normally again? Is the Holy Spirit going to suffocate him in his childhood home? “Not like that. Mom, no, I don't, I don’t mean- I just-” 

 

“A sodomite. In our own house.” Nathaniel spits on the floor, at Dennis's feet, and the baby of the family is suddenly an enemy to all. 

 

“That’s not what I said. That’s not what I said. I’m not, I am not that, okay? I’m not.” 

 

“Then what are you?” His father asks, crossing the living room to stand in front of his son. “Say what you are. Say it, Dennis. Repent it.” 

 

It should be that easy. To lie and say forgive me, I have sinned. To finally express that evil and get God to cast that demon out of him. Because saying it aloud makes it real and wrong and fully separates him from God’s love. All he wants, all he’s ever wanted, is to feel that love, that affection, and be accepted into the Holy Father’s arms. To break down that wall and overcome the sin God brought him into the world with. 

But his mouth doesn’t open, and the ask for forgiveness never comes. 

 

He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his nieces and nephews. He has enough time to run upstairs and pack his bag, shoving as much as he can into it, barely grabbing the picture of him and Sarah as kids at a Vacation Bible Study from his desk. The wives have cleared the brothers away from the door with pleas of the children and peace. He’s given the decency of a pair of keys for the old run down truck he used to share with Sarah in high school. The heat doesn’t work, and it rattles like a snake when he starts it up for the first time in years. 

 

No one watches him leave from the porch. No one checks to see if the drive back to his dorm is completed. 

 

He spends his Christmas on the road, weeping in the silent night.

 

Christmas Break, Senior Year

He had received special permission to stay on campus as the Resident Advisor on duty. There’s no tree, no screaming children, no ribbons, no dishes to wash. His blood glucose monitor hasn’t been touched in days, and he can’t bring himself to make sure if he’s at a stable level. The meals he’d been provided sit untouched and uneaten. 

 

Dennis doesn’t want to eat. He doesn’t want to take a shot. He doesn’t want to check his phone. His advisor had noticed the dark circles under his eyes and slid him a pamphlet on the mental health resources on campus. It’d been tossed in the trash outside the building. 

 

But his grades didn’t slip. His 4.0 is alive and well. His rec letters were glowing, gleaming, and full of promise. The clinic had offered him a fulltime job after graduation as a Patient Coordinator, or part-time hours during school. 

 

The med school acceptance letters sit out on his desk with dates and deadlines highlighted. Calculated distance from Broken Bow, Nebraska was written out beside each med school name. 

 

He plays prosperity gospel Christmas specials on his laptop while he stares at the ceiling. The Holy Spirit doesn't bother him at all that night. 

Notes:

Slow burn guys. We'll get there eventually.

Chapter 3

Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in? Sighing has become my daily food. My groans pour out like water. What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.” - Job 2: 23-26

Dennis likes to think that med school is hard for everyone. And it’s not extra hard for him, running on blood sugars that don’t make sense and a body that can’t keep up. No one can keep up. Everyone is sleep deprived and short tempered and hungry. College had patterns, schedules, food. Med school has a new schedule every week, lectures that can take hours, study groups that go until the next morning. He can’t find his footing, can’t find his patterns. 

 

But he’s a good student. He went from translating a line of the Old Testament in the original Hebrew to studying E. coli in the gut. It’s not that he’s worked harder than any other student there, but his brain just functions differently. They study by memorization and typical cases. He looks for the numbers, the statistics, and plays by the rules of mathematics. He knows how to tear apart the Gospels, and it’s surprisingly similar to tear apart a disease. 

 

He loves it. He doesn’t mind sleepless nights when he can read about the medical mysteries that have been solved when he isn’t one. When he can move his legs towards the bus stop and think of every little muscle and joint working to make it work.

 

It’s like a new type of worship. He remembers singing about God loving the little children in Sunday school, but he can finally put names to the things everyone told him were just a miracle. He’s never loved his body and he doesn’t really love it now. But the legs get him to the bus, through labs, and keep his blood sugars down. His hands highlight his textbooks and his notes from lectures. And he’s still fucked up, so clearly God didn’t care enough to make sure he was good to go before sending him out. 

 

It’s the closest he’s going to get to healing or therapy on his budget. 

 

Dennis snags a part time job working at the front desk of the library. It doesn’t pay as well as the clinic did, but it gives him a quiet place to study every night, or every morning, and just sit. The truck died within a few days of him making it to Pittsburgh, and the meager money he makes from selling it pays for two months rent in a place he splits with three other med students. The damn apartment reeks of mildew and the ant traps they set don’t work. But it’s cheap and it works. For now. 

 

The true miracle in all of this is the med school mandatory insurance policy. He thanks a God he hasn’t heard from since junior year of college that he has student insurance for his meds and his supplies. He doesn’t care that he has to call said student insurance every time he needs a refill to confirm that he still has the disease he’s had since he was a child. It’s the medicine he needs and he will call every day if he has to.

 

He has Google alerts set out for a Sarah Whitaker. He checks in with hospitals around Broken Bow’s county, then the next one over, until he’s got an email list of all Nebraska hospitals saved in his personal email. Every few weeks, he copies and pastes an email, and sends it out, and waits for a response. He never gets one. 

 

Breaks are the best, but also the worst. He picks up part time gigs walking people’s dogs or doing short spanned Instacart orders. The lack of a car makes everything ten times harder. The library is closed for some holiday breaks and he has to supplement the cash flow somehow. He’s grateful for frozen loans that mean he can at least have one less bill to worry about. It’s always freezing in their apartment and he is grateful for the hand-me-down quilt that doesn’t smell like home anymore. 

 

He’s barely keeping his weight up. It’s easier to fight blood sugars with starvation, and he keeps that habit rolling from undergrad years. It means his insulin stockpiles and he can spend more time with his books or picking up an extra gig as a TA for a miserable BIO101 class where students use ChatGPT to write basic papers. It’s great and it’s perfect. 

 

He just has to tread the water. The bare minimum of food, of credit card payments, of sleep. When his roommates go out to drink away the sorrows of med school life, never with an invitation since his first decline, he stays back and leeches off of their streaming services that still have their parents' information in it. He tries to get caught up on the years of shows and movies that were deemed too secular and Devil ordained in his childhood. There’s too many jokes that he hasn’t understood or references from a professor that he can’t place. He knows he doesn’t know it, and it drives him up the fucking wall.

 

The classic Disney movies are great. The TV shows are even better. It really does make him wonder how in the hell some of these were considered sinful or doorways to hell. His heart squeezes in his chest when he watches the cheesy friendship episodes of Hannah Montana or Boy Meets World. He doesn’t know that feeling of friendship. He doesn’t even think he knows how to make friends that aren’t coworkers. Being a Resident Advisor or a TA was great, and he could connect with those students over work. But he wasn’t ever sure if they connected outside of their shared responsibilities. 

 

He can’t finish Brother Bear. He’d rather eat his own arm and deal with the insanity of that carbohydrate counting. 

 

Music is something he’s behind on too. It’s easier, since YouTube is free and the library has a bin of headphones that are free to anyone who needs a pair. It’s weird to be twenty-odd years behind on anything related to pop culture so he treats the learning gap like another class in school. When he needs a break from studying chemical bonds and histology of the heart, he opens his phone and finds some playlist with the best hits from any given year. 

 

Sometimes he scrolls through the dating apps and heads over to offered up addresses. He ghosts anyone that he sleeps with, even if the sex is halfway decent and somewhat promising. That’s one of the reasons he thinks that maybe he isn’t actually gay, just a little misguided. The way that his roommates talk about sex with girls makes it sound like he’s missing a step or several. It was really good with Derek, it was fine a few times in college, but it was never as rewarding as his roommates seemed to think their experiences were. He isn’t sure if it’s him or the partners or the fact that he can’t ever stop thinking when he’s kissing someone else. 

 

Sex is yet another mystery to solve for him. You find the right spots to touch someone, you respond in ways that make them moan, even if it’s a fake response, and you whine out their name, and then there’s a clear piece of evidence that shows you’ve accomplished your goal. He isn’t sure why he still feels hollow and frustrated sometimes after it all, and he can still occasionally feel a flicker in his chest and around his neck. 

 

Dennis starts to wonder if he’s going to be whole in any way ever again. Broken body, broken spirit, and apparently a defective gay too. 

 

When the first year ends and the chance to renew the lease comes up, he isn’t surprised when his roommates inform him they’ve found a newer apartment closer to the school that their parents have offered to pay for. It’s only got three rooms, and he doesn’t have any more in his budget for anything else. 

 

Dennis stays as long as he can in the shitty apartment, then finds a local shelter to spend the night. For a few weeks, all of his belongings live in the two bags he has. He sells his textbooks to restock his low blood sugar snack stash and starts hopping from shelter to shelter. He hates the ones that set up camp in a church basement, because it feels wrong and cruel and honestly he hates the stained glass windows he used to enjoy looking at as a child. The worn leather Bible still sits at the bottom of his ratty Jansport, going with him everywhere and never bringing any comfort. 

 

The second year of med school is worse. Exponentially, soul-crushingly worse. There’s technically med school student housing, but he can’t justify taking out a couple more thousand in loans when the shelter hopping thing is working. The med school library extends their hours, and he volunteers for the red eye shift. He eats whatever dinner the shelter is offering or the student organizations are holding, then parks himself at the desk from 8pm to 2am, locks up the building, and hides in a stairwell or study room until classes at 8am. He showers in the university gym locker room that is somehow looped into his student fees. He gets four hours of sleep on a normal night, five on a good. 

 

He’s too tired for hook ups. He’s too tired to try and pretend to make friends. His muscles ache from being in cramped sleeping positions and sometimes he worries he’s going to wake up with fucking scurvy because he hasn’t had a fresh vegetable since Christmas break junior year. He barely even notices when it’s snowing and the streets are lit up with flashes of green and red and gold. He spends his break at the city library, closed only on Christmas Eve and Day, submitting application after application to hospital rotations. 

 

The grades and the lack of food and the brushing his teeth at the school’s bathrooms to save on time are all worth it when he lands the third year rotation schedule at PTMC. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center is the first stop on the bus that picks up outside of the university. There’s five shelters within a one mile walking distance, thirteen with three.

 

The student doctor to intern chances are 88% for students at PTMC. He doesn’t need to impress all of the specialities, just a few to have options. He needs to commit eight to twelve hours a day, five to seven days a week, with the occasional on call shift. It means a chance at stability for the first time in years. It means he has to let go of all of his side gigs in order to juggle the hours of an unpaid student doctor. 

 

It means the noose is getting tighter and the ship is only sinking faster. 

 

Dennis’s first rotation is in peds. He excels with the kids, not at all up to date with the modern jokes and the secular children’s media, but he knows children. He knows how to spot a baby that’s crying over pain over hunger. He knows when a kid is lying about pain and when it’s actually anxiety. He knows how to be serious in a conversation with an imaginary friend over a sibling.

He just hates the nurses. They’re great, of course. So smart and helpful and excited to be working in healthcare. Nurses are in high demand across the hospital and he respects the hell out of them. 

 

They’re also flirty girls who can’t take no for an answer. 

 

He sees the way that their eyes light up when he makes a joke with a kid that ends up being the only smile all day. He ignores the whispers and giggles when he accepts drawing after drawing from a little girl with a bowel obstruction. And he pretends he doesn’t see the number of whatever coffee is brought to him with batted eyelashes. 

 

It’s irritating how people think he’s just oblivious. The farm boy with a tendency to blush at any bold statement. It’s not that he’s innocent; he’s just not used to the candor of secular people. Jokes weren’t exactly made at home, and he was usually the butt of one, not an enjoyer of one. He knows how they look at him, what they’re thinking, and if he were in the business of trying to please his family, any one of them would have been a great addition to the Whitaker family. Unfortunately, they’re all missing a few titular features that would peak his interest. And all working women, which is just downright unBiblical. 

 

He doesn’t shut it down, though, because coffee is a luxury in these trying times and he’s always had that diabetic sweet tooth. 

 

Dermatology is next and he hates it. With everything in him, he hates it. He spent enough time cutting warts and skin tags off of cattle in his childhood. Taking a dark mole off of a grown man’s ass is somehow worse. He misses the kids and the play-pretend and the coloring books. 

 

Of course he’s good at it. He can spot rashes and marks on the skin other med students can’t. His hands are steady when they numb an area and slice a darkened mole off. He doesn’t bother concealing his grimace or gags or on one exceptionally bad occasion, muttered, “Fucking gross.” 

 

It’s clear when he ends that rotation, neither doctors nor med student will miss the other. 

 

Cardio is nasty but he kind of loves it. The heart is a fun organ full of mystery and a muscle that keeps the rest of the body alive. He hates the amount of death on the floor though. Older people, sure, but the young ones really fuck with his head. He learns more about bedside manners than he did in pediatrics. He learns that everyone thinks they know the heart and its issues because their favorite female doctor is Cristina Yang. 

 

But organ donation is something he had never considered being a part of. During the cases where they’re waiting for the body to fail, he volunteers to stay late and help out. It means not worrying about finding an open bed for the night and getting extra practice with a scalpel. It’s a puzzle and he loves watching the pieces get moved around, or watching a transplant take place. 

 

The gap between other med students and himself starts to grow. He isn’t cocky, he isn’t braggy. He isn’t boastful or unkind. His brain just functions differently. It always has, but with medicine it just clicks. It’s everything he’s had to keep an eye out for with his diabetes, and it translates too easily into everything else. The patterns, the numbers, the random gaps of information. And the other students resent him for it, evident in the eye rolls and huffs when he can answer a question from the doctors that they can’t. As if they don’t have access to the same classes, textbooks, professors as him. 

 

He can’t talk to them. He can talk to the patients and their families all day long. He can make small talk to random strangers who he’ll never have to worry about again. He can’t do it with his classmates, and he can barely do it with his bosses. He hates it. Hates how stuttered his speech is, how easily he can blush. He just wants to stick to the medicine and patients, not work on team dynamics. 

 

It’s endocrine that fucks him up. 

 

He had been confident that this rotation would have been completely fine. His endocrine classes were the ones he had to spend the least amount of time studying for because he’d been thinking in those terms since he was a child. The issue isn’t in the medicine, because it never really is. 

 

The first patient he sees is a nine year old boy, in for his regular check up with his mom. His legs are swinging back and forth under the paper covered exam table. He’s sporting an insulin pump that Dennis can only dream of getting approval for. His name is Tyler, and he can answer all of the questions the doctor asks him without help from his mom. Until the question is about the amount of insulin in his basal rate. 

 

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know. Mom usually keeps up with that.” 

 

His mom answers easily, and Dennis cannot be jealous of a nine year old child. That is insane. Just because his own mom could never really help him out does not mean he needs to be jealous of a patient. 

 

But it’s like that all day. And then the next, and the next. Small kids, some younger than he was when he was diagnosed, some much older. Accompanied by a parent or both in some cases. There are stressed kids who can’t get control of their blood sugars, but nothing that the doctor can’t write a formula for. They get updated prescriptions for more insulin without a bat of an eye. No one prescribes prayers or repentance. They’re told they're doing a great job and to keep up the good work. 

 

Dennis can’t remember ever being told that as a child. 

 

When he has the chance to leave endocrine early, he jumps on it. He doesn’t want to be stuck next to children who have a better grasp on the disease than he does. 

 

Somewhere between psychiatry and internal medicine, he stops leaving the hospital. It started by slipping into on-call rooms to catch a few hours in between shifts. No one seemed to notice or even care as long as he was careful about the floors he frequented. It made sense to just stick around when he was only getting an average of five hours of sleep in between shifts. He’d waste an entire hour by going to the shelters to see what beds were open. 

 

Then he finds the unused floor of PTMC and it’s a fucking miracle. 

 

He’d been wandering the halls trying to lower his blood sugar after stupidly taking a cupcake for someone’s birthday in one of the break rooms. In his defense, he’d been living off of the cafeteria sandwiches for days and he needed something less stale. But the spike had been almost immediate since he hadn’t had something that was loaded with simple carbs in weeks. So he was taking laps while he waited out his lunch hour and stumbled across the closed off area. 

 

He doesn’t sleep any better than he did when he was in the shelters or in the on call rooms. He sleeps worse, actually, because every time he hears a door open above him or the sounds of the elevators, he wakes up and stops breathing. His grandmother's quilt is a lifesaver since they don’t run the heat in this corner and it can get cold, even in the summer. And since he doesn’t have any fat on his body to keep him warm. 

 

It’s so fucking stupid and he knows that. If he’s caught, it’s over. He’ll be kicked out, kicked out of school, and then he really doesn’t know what his options are. But he’s in his fourth year, he’s almost at graduation. He only has a few months of rotations left. Then he’ll get paid as a shitty intern, and he can get back on his feet. 

 

He just has to get through one day at a time. That’s what he keeps telling himself every morning, every night. One day, one week, one month, one rotation. 

 

But then he starts his emergency medicine rotation, and everything goes to shit. 

 

Kiara corners him not just to talk about the street team, but to do one of those weird mental health check-ins she likes to do. It’s uncomfy and always a little oddly invasive as someone who isn’t used to talking about emotions. He stutters through it, giving just enough of a response to get the social worker away from him and onto someone else. 

 

Everyone else in the Pitt is exhausted. Covered in blood or tears or their own sweat. His feet hurt. He’s pretty sure that the adrenaline rush made his blood sugar stick at an all too high level for the last two hours. That might explain his thirst or his headache or his nausea. Even Trinity was out of jokes. 

 

He’s sort of in love with it. Emergency med is all about finding the patterns as quickly as possible, noticing the trends with such a trained eye he keeps making mistake after mistake. Every five minutes there’s a new issue or patient or lesson and he takes the information overflow like Jesus in the desert. He’s finally not the smartest one in the room, and the relief is immense. 

 

But when he first looked at the man in charge of the Pitt, he thought of the Bible story of Daniel in the lion’s den, and how the confidence is the same for both men. An all too familiar white flash of the Spirit scratches nails down his back.

 

Dennis is reminded instantly about taking out one’s eyes if they turn lustful, so he moves his gaze across the room. He’s been on a dry spell for months now, so any decent looking man is going to attract his attention. Plus, he can see the glint of silver wrapped around the attending doctor's left hand. There’s nothing that can be done for that metal. 

 

He stutters through his introduction, distracted and feeling a blush rising in his cheeks. As Dr. Robby, as the man introduces himself, talks through the charge nurse, the board, the cycles that apparently do exist, Dennis stares at the wall right behind the man. He can feel every time Dr. Robby’s eyes are on his, and he wants to bleed into the wall every time it happens. 

 

While everyone is eager to follow right behind Dr. Robby, Dennis sticks to the back of the herd. Listens and looks anywhere that isn’t Dr. Robby. He tries to give himself a pep talk and absorb all of the new information at the same time. 

 

You do not think that your boss’s boss is cute. That is not what is happening. You are not allowed to stare at his hands or his face or anything that isn’t necessary to normal social cues. That is insane. You are not insane. 

 

It’s like that for the next few hours. Without meaning to, in any given room, his eyes slide over to Dr. Robby. When he finds himself already being watched, his cheeks flush, and his chest feels tighter. If the older doctor isn’t looking at him, he wants to do whatever it takes to get the attention back on him. 

 

Because that stare down is intimidating, sure, but it’s also so refreshing to realize that someone is watching him. Someone is actually monitoring him and seeing him. Maybe someone even cares. 

 

After Mr. Milton dies on his watch, Dennis slips away to the bathroom. He knows the others are watching him with pity in their eyes and slipping cash under the table to see if he has a nervous breakdown first. But the physical exertion of CPR had taken its toll on him, and his sweat was half from the motions and half from the low blood sugar. He takes ten minutes to wipe the cold moisture from his forehead, swallows a pack of fruit snacks in nearly one gulp, and tries to guesstimate what level he’s at. He hasn’t sat down all morning and while the constant movement is thrilling, it’s also fucking up his schedule. 

 

Milton was a rarity, they all said. But that’s not how medicine was supposed to work. They didn’t know everything about the human body, but this wasn’t Ancient Greece anymore. If there was a pattern, a symptom, he could’ve tracked it down and followed it and found the problem. He just didn’t know what to look for, and that pissed him off more than the stares and whispers, and Trinity’s stupid fucking jokes. 

 

He tries to avoid Dr. Robby and those watchful brown eyes. He kills a rat and almost runs into a gurney at the applause it brings. Every time he changes his scrubs he swears he can feel the gaze on him. A singular joke makes Dr. Robby chuckles and he almost passes out. 

 

Right when he’s about to get a handle on the day and go sleep in his hidden abode for a week, Pittfest hits. 

 

He realizes that night in Trinity’s guest bedroom that he can’t actually recall the day. In bits and pieces, sure, he can count the hours in dead bodies. But he isn’t entirely sure how many patients he actually saw, how many he helped, how many things he learned about. But he can’t recall the full day. He could shift through the new learning experience for a week but he’s due back the day after tomorrow. 

 

Which means he barely has a forty-eight hours to figure out exactly how he’s going to deal with this stupid fucking workplace crush. 

 

Dennis doesn’t have a type. He doesn’t. He likes them a little more put together than him, sure, but that’s just because he can’t offer any stability himself. And he’s not even sure if Dr. Robby is put together, let alone anyone else in PTMC. So maybe he just likes someone who knows how to keep everything at bay when everything is so fucking insane. 

 

Or someone who could tear him to pieces. 

 

He wasn’t sure how he kept finding the doctor in such private moments. He was horrible at comforting people who were upset, people who were in distress, not undergoing a medical procedure. When he pulled the older man off of the peds floor, he wasn’t thinking about God or about medicine or about anything beyond pulling Dr. Robby out of that moment. And he had already made up his mind to take it to the grave before he’d been cornered right at the tail end of his shift. 

 

“I don’t know if I actually believe in God. Especially on days like today.” 

 

Dennis doesn’t either. But his God was a lot closer to the one that had been around in the Pitt today. The one who let mothers hold onto their babies and scream, the one that let innocent men lie under bridges without a place to call home, and ripped families apart at the seams. That was the only God he knew; one that was violent, and cruel, and unfair. He wasn’t raised with a God that loved and saved. Only one that hated and tooketh away. 

 

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he repeats Dr. Robby’s own words back to him slowly, and he can’t keep his eyes off of the older man. He needs to look at something good today, something that keeps trying when everyone else gives up. He hopes the desperation in his face isn’t too evident. He wants to be comforting because he hates the idea of this man of all people being so miserable. He just spent twelve hours watching him do everything he physically could to save lives. He doesn’t want him to spend a single minute thinking he’s to blame for someone being unsaveable. He’s too familiar with that feeling, and Dennis won’t let anyone else take on that burden. 

 

He considers it divine intervention that Trinity finds him on the abandoned wing and not someone with actual powers within the hospital. He considers Trinity as a divine being when she offers up her guest room. He doesn’t want to be a burden to her, but the way that she glared at him made him feel like he was going with her kicking and screaming if he didn’t move quickly enough. 

 

Trinity’s apartment is so much nicer than any other place he’s stayed in Pittsburgh. 

 

It’s quiet, and cozy, and it’s not exactly an interior designer's passion project, but he likes the movie posters in the living room combined with the pictures of her friends and family. It kind of reminds him of his childhood home, slightly nonsense in a way that makes sense for Trinity’s personality. 

 

“There should be a few spare towels and blankets in the closet,” she says as they maneuver through the apartment. “You’ll have to use the hall bath, but I don’t really have a lot of company, so you should be fine.” 

 

“Yeah, no, that’s. That’s completely fine.” 

 

Shelter bathrooms had lines that he didn’t usually want to fight. And privacy was completely and totally absent. The idea of a door that locked was practically swoon worthy. 

 

He was mindful of how long he took in the shower, but Trinity had disappeared into her own room with very little to offer conversationally. They had barely been able to keep a topic going in the car, but he had seen how easily she was swerving into the road without a little nonsense. 

 

It was when he crawled into bed that it all started replaying in his head like a highlight reel. 

 

Was it bad he had a preferred fluid to be covered in? Or that he only wanted to work with Mel when any disaster came through? That he planned to avoid Mohan at all costs because he was already unregulated enough and didn’t need someone to catch on to that? 

 

Or that every time Robby’s fingers slipped over his skin it sent a shiver up his spine? And that he felt seen for the first time in years? 

 

Dennis groaned and rolled over, smushing his face into the pillow that smelled like lavender. He was freaking out over nothing. Dr. Robby had been incredibly attentive to all of the med students, and even with their moment in the hallway, he had seen Abbot and Robby slip out the staircase to the roof when no one thought they were looking. Or, at least when no one beyond Dennis was looking. But Dennis could always feel Robby’s eyes around the Pitt. 

 

This was nothing abnormal. He was tired, he was probably a little traumatized from the day, and he had an exam due in four days. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. 

 

Over breakfast in the morning, which Dennis had managed to scrounge together with the few ingredients Trinity had in her fridge, they started rotating through the people they’d met throughout the day. Doctors, patients, family members. He had caught onto the weird flirting between Javadi and Mateo. She wouldn’t speak on Langdon when he brought the doctor up. They agree that McKay is a much better teacher than she realizes. Dana deserves everything and more. They talk so much Dennis is relieved that he had the hindsight to check his blood sugar and take a shot in the guest room. 

 

“Mel’s who I want in charge during a crisis. Well, her and Abbot with his goody bags.” Trinity shook her head as she picked up another slice of toast. “He was so fast on his feet. And actually trusted me to do my job. Same with Robby. I’m not surprised they split shifts the way that they do.” 

 

“Do they not work well together?”

 

Trinity snorted. “Quite the contrary. I heard Dana was the one that officiated their wedding.” 

 

He swears he can feel his blood sugar spiking. “Wedding?” 

 

She rolls her eyes and makes a face at him. “Yes, Huckleberry. They’re married. To each other. What, they don’t have gay people in Nebraska?”

 

Dennis thinks about the two men that had stood in front of their entire staff and calmly readied an entire ER for a mass shooting. He thinks about the man who stood doing a medical procedure while donating blood. He thinks about the touches, the staring, the pep talk in the hallway. He thinks about Abbot’s stern eye when he had assessed Carmen’s injuries and the whispered praise he’d given Trinity.

 

The Holy Spirit is going to let him burn alive. 

Notes:

I swear we are going to get to the actual action. The non-trauma dumping kind. I feel like whitaker is sufficiently fucked up enough to start fixing. That does mean you should anticipate slower updates as I work through my outline!

Your comments are very kind and I appreciate every single person who has clicked on this dumpster fire of a fic.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Happy Thursday! I hope you like this one.

A spirit glided past my face, and the hair on my body stood on end. It stopped, but I could not tell what it was. A form stood before my eyes, and I heard a hushed voice. ‘Can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can even a strong man be more pure than His Maker? 

Job 4:15-17

He might not be paying rent, but he figures out really quickly what Trinity meant when she said he could “fix things.” 

 

She’s the antichrist for all things mechanical. He tries to do the dishes only to find out her garbage disposal is busted. The lint trap in the dryer is a fire hazard at this point. Cabinets don’t shut all the way, there are mismatched splotches of paint across the walls, the air filters are practically cultivating their own type of petri dish. He’s pretty sure she only touched the fridge and the power cut out inside of it. 

 

Dennis gets it. Med school, internship, feeding yourself, having a social life; it catches up to you quickly. And the repairs around her apartment are nothing like fixing the engine of a tractor or undoing the mess of a combine in a wet season. It’s stuff he’s been doing since he was old enough to hold a toolbox, and it’s honestly calming after a shift in the ER. It’s not someone’s life in his hands, it’s just a mechanical issue. 

 

The landlord is grateful for the lack of calls from the apartment, and actually starts calling Dennis for quick repairs when the usual maintenance guy isn’t around. Trinity refuses to take his barely earned cash for rent, insisting that it would’ve cost her triple for the repair he did in twenty minutes. 

 

He does get just a little territorial over appliances and his clean areas. A week after he moves in, she tries to clean the oven with bleach. It takes him way too long to fix that mess of a concoction and they both agree he can handle the cleaning and broken appliances if she just stays out of his way and hands him the credit card to go to the store. 

 

That’s the strangest part of it. His body craves a schedule, craves repetition, and he starts meal planning for both of them. He hasn’t had access to food consistently in years. She always looks so excited when he comes back with a lineup that keeps them full and gives them energy for work. 

 

The drive to PTMC is nice. It sure as hell beats walking, and Trinity listens to music that he hasn’t discovered yet. He always memorizes the names of the artists so he has a chance to go back and listen to it again. She catches on within a few days, and now each drive has a curated playlist to make sure he gets caught up quicker. They talk through different genres he likes, and when he mentions he’s never even heard of half the people she plays, it’s not judgement in her eyes but curiosity. 

 

“Wait, so you didn’t have a favorite rapper or something growing up?” she asks one morning. She has something playing that he hasn’t heard before, because that covers decades of music. 

 

“I mean, no?” he shrugs. “I was in small town Nebraska. My first grade class had less than fifteen kids in it. Anything that the choir didn’t sing on Sundays was pretty much deemed secular.” 

 

“You lived in Footloose, dude.” 

 

“In what?” 

 

She slams on her breaks at a red light. She’s a shitty driver, but Dennis doesn’t care. He’s not willing to tell her and lose the free rides. Her whole body turns to face him, mouth kind of dropped in shock. “Footloose? Like the movie?” 

 

When he only stares back, confused, she shakes her head, and grabs her phone to make a note. “We have got to get you caught up to this century at the very least, Huckleberry. Next day off we’re covering the 80s.”

 

He’s never really had a friend, but he thinks this must be pretty close. 

 

The rotation itself is getting better. Considering how insane it began, even without Pittfest, it’s not necessarily like it could be any worse. He’s learning how to train his eyes and ears to look and listen for things that the patients don’t admit to or can’t say. He’s gaining more confidence in his treatments and in his ability to take on responsibilities. Mohan is upbeat around him again, and Dana makes sure he gets cases that challenge him. Princess and Perlah have adopted him as a weird little pet and bump whatever random thing he needs to the top of the line. 

 

Everything is smooth sailing, as long as Dr. Robby isn’t around. 

 

That’s when his tongue is suddenly a fucking idiot, and he’s a fucking idiot, and he can’t stop being a fucking idiot. He can only get out his case presentation or respond to answers when he isn’t looking at the attending. That’s when the Holy Spirit sneaks around his chest and squeezes. He’s not sure how no one else has picked up on it, but in emergencies people are always focused on the patient. 

 

There’s one day where Dr. Robby picks him to start the IV on a patient, and when he glides the needle into the vein with no struggle, he gets an encouraging, firm, “Good, that’s good.” And he debates passing out. 

 

There’s another one where he’s working on a car crash victim whose lungs are filling with fluid, and Dr. Robby guides him through the chest tube placement because Trinity and Mel are elsewhere. He won’t admit that it’s terrifying and incredible and that the proud smile Dr. Robby has on his face when it does it without an issue absolutely does not give him a smile he can’t shake off for the rest of the shift. 

 

It’s not favoritism. It’s not. It’s a teaching hospital and teachers have always patted him on the back or squeezed his shoulder or steered him towards a room with a new patient because he “could really learn a lot from this, Whitaker.” 

 

And he doesn’t have a type. There’s just something about Dr. Robby that is so firm and grounding. His presence is inviting and not intimidating like he first thought. Sometimes Dennis catches himself staring at the man, eyeing the silver glint of his Star of David chain, or the way he looks so serious when he’s got his glasses on. He’s never necessarily looked for facial hair, but he wonders what the beard would feel like against his skin and if it'd leave marks on him. 

 

He tries to tell himself it’s just a physical thing. It’s earthly things in him. Pride and lust and an eye that wanders. He just wishes the eyes would wander to a girl or a man that wasn’t half his age. If it wouldn’t cost him a fortune that he doesn’t have, and if he had just a little higher of a pain tolerance, Dennis would do the righteous thing and tear his own eyes out. 

 

Although he does actually deal with a patient on meth that tried to do that and it was absolutely disgusting. The muscles and tissues were so delicate in his hands that he almost felt a touch of gratitude to God for designing the human body. He and Trinity high fived over how cool it was once the patient was sedated. Collins just shook her head. 

 

“You’re improving every shift you know,” the older man says, not unkindly at the end of a long day. Dennis had been bitten by a kid and his heart had jumped into his throat when Dr. Robby had insisted on taking a look at it in his gloved hands. His hands that easily wrapped around Dennis’s forearm and still had space left. “There are some things that you’re never going to be ready for. But you’ve got some natural talent. I wish I could run the numbers in my head like you do.” 

 

“I’m, uh, actually terrible at math. I had to have a tutor in college for every math class I took.” 

 

It makes Dr. Robby laugh a little and Dennis isn’t sure if it’s the Holy Spirit in his chest or something else entirely. 

 

“Still better than me, kid. I used to buy extra blue books for college exams just to make sure I had enough room to solve the different equations.”

 

Dennis’s brow furrows. “A blue book?”

 

“They don’t use those anymore?” Dr. Robby shakes his head with a smile, reaches out, and squeezes Dennis’s shoulder. It makes his vision zero in on the man. “Damn. Jack will love hearing that. Before your time, probably. The old fashioned way of doing college and med school. I think I’ve got medical textbooks older than you.” 

 

Dennis is going to melt into the fucking floor. 

 

So maybe he had a little workplace crush. Maybe he can feel when Dr. Robby is looking at him, and maybe he kind of loves it. He can still do his job, he can still be fucking normal. He just needs a week or two or month to figure out how to shove down those emotions. 

 

He can’t fight the horniness though. There’s no way in hell he’s bringing a guy over to Trinity’s place, no matter how many girls she sneaks past him, but he can’t exactly sneak out either. And sexting just isn’t his thing; it’s awkward and he just feels embarrassed when he deletes the messages later on. It’s his fist and fingers and a few quiet nights when Trinity goes to meet with old med school friends. And if he can only cum when he thinks about a certain pair of hands and eyes on him, that’s his problem and no one else's. 

 

Dennis needs the attention. He can’t help it. He wants affection. He can’t help it. 

 

Dr. Robby manages to pull him away to assist him on a dislocated jaw. He coaches Dennis through the movements, no nurses available to offer up their services. Dennis is focused, he is, he swears, but he isn’t blind, and there’s something so beautiful in the way that Dr. Robby deals with the medicine. Sometimes Dennis’s head starts spinning, trying to catch all of the symptoms and pull them into a thread to follow. Dr. Robby always brings him down gently, making Dennis think out loud, and walk through his thought process. 

 

“Sudden, severe abdominal pain, fever, presenting with nausea and vomiting since last night. Dehydrated, taken Tylenol and-” 

 

“Whitaker, pause. Take a breath and look at him. Observe. Just look for a second.” 

 

The patient looks fucking awful, but Dennis pauses and checks from head to toe. Forces himself to slow down and look for anything out of the ordinary. When he spots the yellowing eyes, he looks over at Dr. Robby, and hesitantly asks, “Liver failure? Or maybe cysts?” 

 

“Okay. Good. So what should we do?” 

 

Dennis starts putting the pieces together. “We need imaging done, ultrasound is fastest. And labs for proteins and enzymes. Anything to indicate one over the other.” 

 

Dr. Robby nods and lets him put in the labs and orders. He comes up behind him later as Dennis is charting, announcing his present by sliding his hand around Dennis’s ribs. His hands are so close to his rapidly beating heart that Dennis only crosses his fingers in his head that he’s not that obvious. 

 

“There we go. Sometimes you just have to slow down and let your brain catch up to you.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes and Dr. Robby frowns at him. 

 

“What? For being able to move that quickly? That’s good. It means we can train you to move through diagnosing a patient faster. We just have to work on efficiency. Not letting yourself spiral like you tend to.” 

 

“I don’t mean to. I mean, it’s just kind of how I’ve always been. Drove my theology professors crazy. It didn’t even really become useful until med school.” 

 

Dr. Robby nods. “Well, it’ll be useful here. We just have to retrain your brain a little bit.” 

 

“Sure. Thanks, Dr. Robby. I appreciate it, really.” 

 

“You’re doing great, kid.” He squeezes Dennis’s hip before stepping away. He can feel the pressure of his silver wedding band against him. 

 

It stumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You are too, Dr. Robby.”  

 

The smile he gets in response lets him float through the rest of the shift and makes him cum twice in his bed. 

 

It’s so pathetic and he wants to lock himself in a room over it. But no one has ever looked at him like that or given him praise like that. Professors saw that he was good at being a student, and it became an expectation. It wasn’t something they complimented him over. And his family never offered up compliments or anything positive. Love isn’t boastful so why would he be rewarded for doing what was expected of him as a member of the family?

 

In a moment of pure desperation, he volunteers to help out with the night shift for a few days since a few of the nurses have fallen victim to the start of flu season in the early weeks of October. It’s been almost three weeks since Pittfest, and he still can’t get it together when he’s working with Dr. Robby. He thinks that a little break will be good, just a chance to clear his head. He likes the night shift doctors. They’re a little meaner, a little crazier. But everyone is trying to get their circadian rhythms to do the exact opposite of what it should be doing. So everyone looks a little stupid. 

 

He’s so confident when he walks into the Pitt that nothing can go wrong with his brilliant plan. Then he sees Dr. Abbot talking to the EMTs with a stern gaze and no-nonsense tone and all he can think is, fuck, there’s two of them. 

 

It’s the type of greed he was warned about from the pulpit. About wanting more than he needed. Chasing after material possessions and never being satisfied. Because while Dr. Robby is encouraging and makes jokes and teases him a little, Dr. Abbot is firm, don’t hesitate, do it now and get a compliment later. And he wants both. He needs both. 

 

Everyone is tempted by their own personal sinful desires. His just happens to be his bosses. 

 

In an insane turn of events, he starts praying again. He hasn’t prayed since probably junior year of college. He definitely has not prayed since junior year of college. Not like the little ones he did when something random was happening. No, now he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty from a dream he should not be having, and starts praying violently. 

 

It’s not quite repentance. More like a quiet plea to let him sail through the rest of this rotation without becoming an HR violation. 

 

He’s never really had these feelings before. These feelings of lust and need and want. Yes, he wanted Aaron, and Derek, and those flings. And yes, he’s horny enough in this dry spell to want someone to fuck him into next week and give him a small reprieve from the daily exhaustion of being alive. 

 

But this is a deeper passion. It clings to him like sweat. He wants them and he thinks of David looking at Bathsheba in the Bible. He wants them and he thinks of Samson and Delilah. He wants them and he thinks of Joseph and Potiphar. He knows how those stories end, and he’s already too familiar with falling out of favor with God. 

 

To lust after a man is one thing. To lust after two is another. Two of his bosses. His married bosses. Who are trying to teach him, not get into bed with him. 

 

It’s not a confidence thing, but Dennis doesn’t seem to be their type anyway. He is skin and bones. His face is constantly making him look like a Victorian era sickling. His hair is barely being revived from years of homemade shampoo and conditioner. He might be nearing graduation, he might be a man, but he is still a runt.

 

So he doesn’t want these feelings. He doesn’t want to have a crush on anyone he works with. Those feelings are a distraction, and they’re not going to get him anywhere. 

 

Night shift is not going to be his longterm plan if he can help it, but he does enjoy working with Dr. Shen and Dr. Ellis. He secretly likes Dana more than Lena, but he would never, ever admit that to her face. He knows better than to upset the charge nurse. There’s no other med student or intern on the night shift for those few weeks, so he gets to do procedures that make Trinity seethe with jealousy. 

 

He’s recounting one story of a drunken bar fight turned knife fight in their living room when he mentions he was the one who got to help pull the knife out and put the half cut off arm back together. Trinity, from her position on what she has claimed as her chair and no one else's, grabs the nearest notebook she can and flings it at him over on his corner of the couch. 

 

“I swear to God, Huckleberry, I will go touch the breaker. I’ll send this entire building into an eternity of darkness if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop bragging.”

 

“Oh, please don’t,” Javadi says from her usual spot on the floor. She likes to fit into these weird, tight spaces, claiming that the uncomfy position helps her focus. “My laptop is almost dead and I have to turn in this quiz. I can’t afford any more distractions.” 

 

“Do you need a charger?” Mel offers, already digging in her backpack for the item. Javadai practically squeals with joy when it’s the right one and Mel plugs it in for her behind the side table. 

 

He doesn’t know when this started happening. These hangouts. He woke up after one shift to find himself in a group chat with the walking hazards as Trinity had named it. The group picture was a selfie Trinity had snapped of them all next to a really bloody exam table when all the attendings and senior residents had abandoned them for a team meeting. They had been the ones to figure out how to pull the axe out of the guy's head and had been sufficiently yelled at for doing so. He thinks Collins was the one that called them that but he isn’t sure. He’d been too busy trying to avoid Dr. Robby’s disappointed expression. 

 

Team bonding, Trinity had joked in a whisper the second Dr. Robby had turned around. Samira had barely kept her mouth shut while Victoria had just giggled. And Dennis couldn’t help but huff out a laugh even though he did feel oddly wrong for freaking out their boss. 

 

The texts were annoying but he did like having something to check on his phone that wasn’t an overdue credit card bill or phone call from insurance. Sometimes they were even funny. One night Javadi had asked for help on a test from a class he’d taken the previous semester, and Mel wasn’t with her sister, and suddenly they were all piled into the living room talking. 

 

Trinity didn’t like to host, but Dennis did. He kept a stockpile of the drinks he knew Mel liked and the weird hippie ones Samira drank. He made a batch of brownies on a whim because he was craving them anyway, and now they had a baked good every hang out. They were having movie nights, spontaneous and planned, and when Victoria learned Dennis had never seen Grey’s Anatomy, she’d made everyone pull an all-nighter during one of their few breaks from working to watch a marathon of the first season. 

 

They had laughed through the medical inaccuracies and ten-fold drama. Trinity had gone on a wine-induced rant about power dynamics at play with Derek and Meredith. When Addison showed up, they all went wild at Dennis’s reaction. Laughing as he got up and paced the living, sputtering on about the insanity of it. He didn’t bother to tell them why he was so freaked out. 

 

“I think it’s great that you’re getting to help out with the night shift,” Mohan says as she flips through one of her case files from work. She’s still working on bits and pieces of research and only comes to hang out when Mel uses those sad “I’m an orphan and need friends that aren’t my sister” eyes. 

 

Trinity’s words, not his. 

 

“They’ve got a lot that they can teach you,” the third year continues. “The night shift is a different beast and it requires a different type of personality. I hated doing it when I covered my first year of residency.” 

 

“And you think Huckleberry has that personality?” Trinity asks with a mocking expression. 

 

“I think that everyone should take advantage of any learning opportunity available to them.” 

 

“That’s a no,” Trinity stage whispers to the others. Javadi hides a grin and Mel does everything she can not to pick a side with her face. Dennis only rolls his eyes, unbothered and uncaring. He’s grown used to Trinity’s witty banter. It’s familiar, and not nearly as psychologically damaging as she seems to think it is. “I would take advantage of working with Abbot if I had the chance. He’s been my hero since Pittfest.” 

 

“Since he didn’t report you, you mean,” Samira mutters. Trinity flips her off behind her wine glass and Victoria stifles a giggle. 

 

“He is a good doctor,” Mel muses. “He was calm and direct in a crisis. And he talks to me about the VA hospital. He definitely has a lot to offer as a teacher.” 

 

“Is he cool, like Dr. Robby?” 

 

It takes Dennis a second to realize that they’re talking to him. He’s too busy looking at his schedule for the next week and mentally calculating how many times he’s going to need to skip a meal or take a hike to control his blood sugars. And he’s counting up how many bottles of insulin he has stored away in the fridge behind a bottle of apple juice Trinity isn’t allowed to touch.

 

“Whitaker?” 

 

“Huh?” He looks up from his battered laptop and all eyes are on him. His cheeks pinken from the attention. “What?” 

 

“Abbot,” Javadi repeats, leaning forward a bit and letting the screen of her laptop dig into her stomach. “Is he better than Robby?” 

 

Flashes of dark brown eyes and stern gazes and hands roll through his head. He hopes his voice is even as he replies, “Both are great teachers.” 

 

They are. They’re just wildly different in how they teach. Dr. Robby is all about positive reinforcement and only gets snappy when someone gets distracted. Dr. Abbot doesn’t play favorites. He doesn’t coddle his staff. If he does, it’s only shown in his criticism. 

 

“Whitaker, your sutures are sloppy.” 

 

“Whitaker, the patient has abdominal pain and you’re still assessing the head. Move faster.” 

 

“Whitaker, there’s an ambulance four minutes out and you’re not gowned, that’s a bit of a problem, don’t you think?”

 

“If I catch you leaning one more time, the next sex injury that comes through those doors is going to you, Whitaker, and that’s a fucking promise.” 

 

Dennis has always appreciated feedback. He wants to be good and corrects himself as needed. Sometimes he thinks he might go a bit too above and beyond on what it takes to make someone happy. He willingly forgoes his night time insulin shot to get a singular head nod from Dr. Abbot when he efficiently and accurately works with a patient, and that is worth the intense headache he gets for the rest of the shift. 

 

He loves the night shift and the experience he’s getting there. It does mean he has to take the bus from Trinity’s, which means that his eating routine and blood sugars are all fucked up and flipped around. But the night shift crew snacks constantly, something about fast carbs and energy, so there’s always a little stash around that no one bats an eye at when he pulls from it. That was a relief, considering how hour his tongue has gone numb in his mouth and he has to sit in the stairwell for several minutes trying to get back to a normal level. 

 

“Is there a reason you look worse today?” Trinity asks when he stumbles home, not entirely sure he isn’t still facing a low blood sugar. The bus ride home had been very hazy. 

 

“I remembered that I have a roommate who texted me that she was going to attempt a load of laundry. It sent me into septic shock,” he shoots back and collapses into one of the kitchen chairs. “Please tell me you at least added in the detergent this time.” 

 

“I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” She sets down her coffee cup and moves to the fridge. “And to think I was nice enough to buy those stupid yogurts with the chocolate in them.” 

 

“Yogurt is for breakfast. You know what I want? A burger. A big, fat, fucking burger. With a side of fries. And a steak.” 

 

“It’s six in the morning.” 

 

“For you. It’s six in the morning for you. It’s six in the evening for me.” 

 

“Fine. No yogurts for you, you little vampire.” She starts moving the items around in the fridge, looking for the one she wants. When she still tosses the extra container at him before leaving the apartment, he decides that he can trust her to complete one load of laundry a week. 

 

That night, when he crawls back to the ER, Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot are standing at the center of the chaos, trading off notes and information on patients. He tries to be quick enough to slide past them to the lockers, but, as if he can fucking sense him, Dr. Robby looks up at the exact moment Dennis ducks his head down, and he calls out, “Hey, Whitaker!” 

 

It’s not like he can ignore that summons, not with half of the ER turning around and looking, so he turns on his heel and closes the few feet he had managed to put between himself and the attendings. “Yeah, Dr. Robby?” 

 

He swears to God the man’s voice gets softer. “We miss you on day shift. Hell, I miss you on days. Dana wanted me to check in with you before I left. Is Abbot treating you good during the graveyard shift?” 

 

Abbot scoffs and drums his fingers against the countertop. “You act like I enjoy torturing the young ones.” 

 

“But you do. You come home giddy every morning to tell me what mean thing you said to make them cry.” 

 

“Only when they deserve it.” He smirks at Dennis and the farmboy tries not to turn red. He can practically feel that old leather Bible getting heavier in his bag. “Whitaker takes it like a champ, though. I haven’t even gotten him to cry yet.” 

 

You cannot get a boner at work. You cannot get a boner at work. You cannot get a fucking boner while talking to two married men. At work. That is insane. 

 

“He’s treating me fine,” he manages to get out. “I’m learning a lot. Really enjoying it.” 

 

“Don’t enjoy it too much.” Dr. Robby’s hand clasps down on his shoulder, and why does his thumb always manage to find his bare skin? “I want you back on normal hours as soon as this flu thing clears up. Can’t have my best MS4 taken from me right when he was being so good.” 

 

“Um, I’m your only MS4, Dr. Robby.” 

 

The man fucking winks at him, and squeezes his shoulder. “And I really hope we keep it that way.” 

 

Dennis nods with what he hopes is a normal fucking look on his face and slides out of Dr. Robby’s hold. He practically sprints to the locker room. When he rounds the corner, he finds that Dr. Robby’s hands have moved to being on Abbot’s shoulders, and both have a soft look on their faces that feels too private to witness. 

 

He doesn’t idolize them because that’s committing idolatry and goes against one of his core childhood beliefs. And he’s basically committing adultery in his head when he looks at them. 

 

They’re just so good. With patients, jobs, coworkers, each other. And they don’t do it to win favor or for glory or money. They sure as hell don’t do it without taking some intense psychological damage. He knows they’re a little fucked up, everyone in this field is a little fucked up. A normal person doesn’t get giddy over broken bones and head lacerations and chest pains. Still, it’s not just a job to them. They work like they’re breathing, like they knew exactly what they were made for and never backed down from it. 

 

Dennis can’t grasp that. He can understand hating what you are, but he can’t understand what it’s like to be what you are, who you are, and keep going. How are they able to not feel an urge to fix themselves every waking hour? 

 

He mutters a quick prayer at his locker and grabs his stethoscope. 

 

That night, he’s a fucking disaster. He misses obvious signs for a concussion that really needs a head CT, can’t find the vein of any patient, and nearly collides with every stretcher that rolls into the Pitt. He can feel the high blood sugar pulsing through him, making his head ache and he could inhale an entire bottle of water if given the chance. He’s irritated with his patients, his coworkers, and himself for not getting it together. 

 

Abbot corners him after he tries and fails to put in a central line. Like he’s back in year one of med school, fumbling all over the place. 

 

“Do you need a break or do you need to leave?” 

 

Dennis blinks. “I’m sorry?” 

 

Abbot crosses his arms over his chest and Dennis feels very, very small all of a sudden. “You’re coming in earlier than my own senior residents and sometimes you’re still here when I’m heading out. I know you still have assignments and things due at school because med students always have something due for school. But I’d rather be down a body than stuck with one that can’t focus. It’s more hazardous than helpful. So do you need a break or do you need to leave?” 

 

His gaze is stern but it’s not mean. Dennis can tell by the way he’s looking over the med student from head to toe that it’s genuine concern and not irritation. He really needs to stop assuming that the people at PTMC want him to fail. It gives him enough comfort to drop his shoulders and shake his head. 

 

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I mean, yeah, sure, I’m tired, but I’m always tired. I don’t mean to be a burden, I swear. I’m sorry. I can get it together, Dr. Abbot. I promise.” 

 

The older doctor asses him from head to toe. Looking over every inch of his body to see if he can actually be trusted to be honest. His eyes flicker back up to meet Dennis’s, and he really, really hopes the desperation in his face is not blatantly obvious. 

 

“Go start the patient's chart. Then take twenty minutes in the break room. Eat something, drink something, with caffeine and protein. I keep a stash of protein bars and sandwiches in the left drawer of the fridge. Ignore that sugary bullshit that Shen brought in, you’ll just crash later.”  

 

Dennis starts to protest but Abbot raises a hand to stop him. His golden wedding band glitters in the fluorescent lights. “No. You need the caffeine because those circles under your eyes are starting to become a permanent part of your body. The protein will get you through the rest of the shift, and then you take tomorrow night off. It’s that, or you go home now, and I still don’t see you tomorrow. You don’t have any other options, kid.” 

 

He ignores the shiver he feels down his spine at that name. He just nods, and does as he’s told. Starts the chart, sits down in the break room with a sandwich and a protein bar because he is really fucking hungry, and just breathes. He manages to slide over to the lockers and take a quick shot of insulin for his food, and it’s an instant relief to his system. 

 

He’s lived off of not enough for so long that he forgets how horrible he can get. How he just pushes and pushes and assumes that doing the bare minimum won’t let him collapse fully. 

 

When he slides back out into the Pitt, maneuvering around with more clarity and managing to do his job correctly, everyone seems to be more tolerable of him. He catches Abbot’s eye at one point, and the man just gives him a smile, and a nod, and Dennis goes warm all over. 

 

But then it’s awful because now Abbot just corners him when he can tell Dennis isn’t fully alert. He’s being handed one of those little protein bars at least once a shift, and being told no, go take a break, when he starts to get a little manic. His eyes are everywhere and Dennis can’t get away with doing anything he deems wrong. 

 

Where Dr. Robby observes and corrals, Abbot controls. His suggestions are more so orders and Dennis is quick to follow, because the last thing he wants to do is upset him. And because every approving nod or, “That’s it, Whitaker,” or “Good job, Whitaker,” or one very insane, “Atta boy,” makes him feel warm and decent and halfway good. 

 

He has to pray every morning, every night, and every time his heart starts fluttering in his chest. God never answered him when he was little, but maybe, now that he knows what’s wrong with him, why he’s so fucked up, he can get a little grace. 

 

They get to work on a patient together one night. Everyone else has been pulled into a frenzy with random cases and backed up ORs, so when a patient with chest pains and a high fever rolls in, Abbot and Dennis are the only two available. He pretends that it doesn't elate him and that the giddiness in his chest is because of the learning experience. 

 

“Take the lead,” Abbot instructs him as they head towards the triage area. “I’m here if you have any questions, but I’m letting you handle this one.”

 

Dennis manages to coast through his initial assessment without any major hiccups. Being in a tight space with Abbot makes him all the more aware that he’s being watched over. He knows that the attending is barely even looking at the patient. He orders a round of beta blockers and diuretics with a call to cardio for a further examination. Abbot nods and signs off on it and Dennis tries not to look too happy.  

 

“Your bedside manner has improved. You’re not nearly as nervous as you used to be. The confidence is what keeps patients and family members calm, so keep that up,” Abbot says the minute they leave the room. All serious, no nonsense per usual. They start moving towards the waiting room to pick up another patient. “You have to stop double guessing yourself on courses of treatment. You’ll be graduating soon, and I’ve seen the notes from your past rotations. You get glowing reviews every time.” 

 

“Oh.” He’s not really sure what to say. He never knows what to say when he starts to receive any form of praise. “I just don’t want to do the wrong thing. I’ve already made enough mistakes on patients, and sometimes I don’t think I really know what I’m doing.” 

 

Abbot reaches out and tugs on his arm, stopping them in the hallway. There’s somehow no one around to spot them. “Whitaker, I’ve seen you diagnose patients faster than some of the residents here. You know what you’re doing.” 

 

The skin on Dennis’s arm feels warm. Tingly. He can’t really take a breath when Abbot’s grasp is so firm. It’s worse than Dr. Robby’s hands. 

 

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot,” he manages to say. He’s not sure he can say anything else. Or that he should.

 

“And I hate to tell you this because I really don’t want to give you back to Robby, but we’ll be at normal staffing starting tomorrow. Your stint on the night shift is over.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

Abbot must be able to see the disappointment on his face because he laughs a little, shifting his hand up to rest on Dennis’s shoulder. “I know, I know. I’ll miss your brains and hands. Not everyone can survive this shift, but you’ve done really well. I don’t know if you’re starting to think about specialties for after graduation, but if you need a recommendation letter, you just let me know.” 

 

“I haven’t. Started to, uh, think about that.” 

 

But god, he really should. He has a few weeks left in the ER shift before he heads to Family Medicine after the New Year. Then it’s two rotations, intern applications, and graduation. And a whole new round of issues. 

 

“You’ve still got some time, but I’d have an idea around the spring. That way you have something to think about when you’re trying to get matched at a hospital. Interviewers love to hear about your long-term goals. And we’d be lucky to have you here.” 

 

Abbot’s hand is still on him. Dennis is not entirely sure but he thinks that his entire neck might be red. He just nods and swallows thickly. 

 

“Have you taken your break yet? We’re about to head into that 4am fake lull.”

 

He shakes his head, and Abbot squeezes right by his neck and Dennis will not moan in front of his boss. His married boss. Who’s husband he will be seeing in a few days. 

 

“Take a few minutes. And rehydrate, you need it. Can’t have your last shift with me ending up with you in a bed.” 

 

Dennis debates shoving his head into the break room freezer to calm himself down. 

 

Trinity greets him by slapping a beer into his hand the moment he enters the apartment. He makes a quizzical face. “What the fuck is this for?” 

 

“Dr. Robby told us you’d be back next week. Figured you deserved a treat for ending your time as a vampire doctor.” 

 

“I’m supposed to be back this weekend.” 

 

“Oh, he’s going to message you at some point. He wants you to switch your sleeping schedule in order to get used to being back on day shift.” 

 

“I don’t need special treatment,” he mumbles and decides that the chair is too much, sprawling out onto the kitchen floor on his stomach instead. The linoleum is cool and he’s still so fucking warm from his conversation with Abbot. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye, but that was probably for the best. Considering how when he left Abbot had been performing CPR on a patient and Dennis’s brain had short-circuited in the hallway staring at his arms. 

 

He hopes they got the patient back. 

 

“You know that this entire space hasn’t been cleaned in days, right? I don’t think I could even point out where the mop is if I tried.” 

 

He drops his head into his arms. He can still smell hospital on him, but there’s a faint whiff of Abbot’s cologne. And that should not be a reason he’s inhaling deeply into his scrubs. “I have to shower anyway. A kid dared his brother to eat the inside of a toy with some goo in it and I have rainbow vomit on me somewhere.” 

 

“Well at least clean the floor too. I don’t want hospital germs here. Especially when the Pitt is finally cleared of the flu.” 

 

He peeks an eye up at her as she steps over his outstretched legs. “It’s barely even October, Trin. You think normal flu, let alone Frat Flu, is out of our reach?” 

 

“How the fuck do you know what Frat Flu is, farmboy? I would’ve thought going to parties was against everything you believed in.” She snaps her fingers, turning back before she’s grabbed her backpack. “Oh, that reminds me. Fix your sleep schedule today because we’re going out after our last shift for the week.” 

 

“Tomorrow’s a Wednesday?” 

 

“So close. Tomorrow’s Friday. We want to take you out to celebrate your return to the daylight on Monday. Even Mohan is coming. Although I think she’s just looking for an excuse to get drunk.” 

 

Dennis sits up a little bit. “Who’s we?” 

 

“We. Us. The people who come over here and eat all of our fucking food because you bake treats like a witch trying to capture children.” 

 

He just stares and she just rolls her eyes. “Jesus, dude. Mohan, Mel, Javadi. Your friends?” 

 

“Are we friends? I just assumed we were coworkers. I mean, I assumed you guys were friends and I was just a coworker.” 

 

“Dennis, coworkers don’t come over and eat you out of house and home. They also don’t eat up your electricity bill charging their phones or fuck up your Netflix suggestions.” 

 

He blinks. “They don’t?” 

 

She grimaces at him. There’s something almost like pity in her eyes. “Sometimes your childhood makes me depressed. No, they don’t. Friends do that. And friends go out and celebrate accomplishments.” 

 

“But I didn’t accomplish anything?” 

 

“Friends celebrate anything. Like how we celebrated Javadi’s good grade for her paper? Or when we all took shots before Mel went on that date?” 

 

“Those weren’t just because we’re stuck together for twelve hours at a time anyway?”

 

Trinity shakes her head as she puts her backpack across her shoulders. “No, it’s because they like you. Well, they like me. They tolerate you.” 

 

She leaves him to ponder that, finally leaving the apartment and shouting something about not sleeping all day as the door shuts. He lays there for a little longer, until the cologne he’s inhaling like it’s air fades away.

Notes:

I made myself finish half of chapter five before I posted this one.

I'm really glad people are enjoying this. The amount of Biblical easter eggs I've thrown in have made me giggle. If someone had told me in college I'd be using my degree to write fanfiction about two old men railing a sad European boy (because yeah, guys, of course they're going to freak nasty style), I would have laughed and asked if you'd gone through my phone.

I'm out of town starting tomorrow, so I don't think I'll be able to post again until Sunday/Monday. Good thing is it's halfway done and six is outlined!

Chapter 5

Notes:

I don't know what this is but I needed it out of my head. Happy Monday!

For hardship does not spring from the soil, nor does trouble sprout from the ground. Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward. - Job 5:6-7

 

It’s not that he’s nervous about going out. He isn’t. 

 

He would just rather go to a Sunday church service and have that psychologically damaging experience. 

 

There are certain places he isn’t confident in approaching yet. The micro (mega) crushes on his bosses, the impending threat of homelessness if he doesn’t get matched to an internship in Pittsburgh, any sort of psychology rotation, a Texas Roadhouse for the fear of not getting a real steak, and the bars. 

 

The clubs, the bars, any of the places that he should have gone to during undergrad but just didn’t. Probably a tattoo parlor as well for something on his ankle that he ends up regretting and hiding with higher socks for the rest of his life. He knows he’s behind in that regard. Sometimes he’s pretty sure he’ll never get caught up on nearly three decades of pop culture and life events.

 

Maybe that’s part of why he’s got this thing for his bosses. They’re also a little out of the loop on everything. Not in a weird, “I was basically raised in a cult” way. That’s his speciality. But they’re still not as culturally up to date. It makes talking to them slightly easier than talking to people his own age. 

 

Now if they could just stop touching him while they do it, he’d be golden. 

 

Besides, he has no idea how a night out would interact with his blood sugars and insulin. He’s pretty sure it would just fuck him up royally. If the sin of drinking didn’t get to him first. 

 

In the same way that he wants to throw up when he thinks about the holiday season coming up, he wants to crawl into bed and sleep for a week to avoid going out. 

 

Instead, he crawls into bed, and sleeps until a little past noon. Then he forces himself to get up and move around, doing laundry he’s been avoiding and little things around the apartment. He receives a text message from Dr. Robby confirming what Trinity had already told him, to take some time and come in for a later shift rather than fuck up his sleep schedule. 

 

He responds with an Okay! Thanks, Dr. Robby! Looking forward to being back on days. And he does not get excited when the message is loved and with a Looking forward to seeing you too kid. Because that would be levels of pathetic he doesn’t have time to deal with. 

 

No, his primary concern is getting Trinity to focus on literally anything rather than this going out thing. 

 

He knows how to appease people. How to make them happy so they can tolerate him. He just needs to distract her, let her down gently, and then go back to figuring out how to avoid looking into Dr. Robby’s eyes when he gets back to work. 

 

So he starts by going to the store and restocking on her favorite snacks and foods. He preps a dinner of her favorite pasta, the one with the homemade sauce that Sarah had taught him years ago. Giving him the tasks keeps him awake and maybe he also chugs an energy drink that Victoria had gotten him addicted to for some extra help. 

 

By the time Trinity arrives back home, he’s a little jittery from the caffeine and the lack of sleep, but her eyes just narrow in on the dinner he’s finished putting out. 

 

“You want something.” 

 

“Can’t I just do something nice for my wonderful, gracious roommate?” 

 

She shakes her head, locking the door, and peeling off the layers of her hospital gear. “No, because you never want to do nice things for me. You once told me you only did the dishes because you were convinced I’d get my hand stuck in the garbage disposal and chop up my fingers.” 

 

He did say that and he does still fully believe it. 

 

“Just shut up and be grateful. How was your shift?”

 

She groans in response and he knows it’ll be a good story. 

 

They talk through the cases, through a child custody handoff turned fist fight, and a gender reveal gone horribly wrong with flames and burns, because “the breeders have to make everything a big deal” as Trinity puts it. There’s still the normal bits and pieces of random injuries and a heart issue and things that used to be so exciting and are now considered normal. 

 

He knows Trinity is hungry for general surgery as her speciality. But she excels in emergency med so much that if he isn’t working with her full time in a year, he’s going to be sad and even possibly miss her. 

 

“Oh, and Dr. Robby said he’s looking forward to having you back. He and Abbot actually got into a little tiff about it when they switched off.” 

 

Dennis does not care what she means like that. “Oh, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah. Abbot apparently neglected to tell him that the nurses were back to full staff two shifts ago.” She wiggles her brow at him. “Fucking teacher’s pet over here. Or they just like having a med student who they can blame their mistakes on.” 

 

“That’s probably it. You know me. Always the scape goat.” He clears his throat. “Which, that reminds me, this whole going out thing-” 

 

“Oh, you motherfucker. I knew you weren’t being nice to me for nothing.” 

 

“It’s not for nothing!” he protests and he hates how whiny he sounds. “I just don’t know if it’s the best idea to do before my shift back on days.” 

 

“You don’t have to get wasted, Huckleberry. But everyone is really looking forward to it. We’ve barely gotten to see your stupid face and for some reason that upsets people.” 

 

He rolls his eyes but pushes forward. “It’s just going to be a lot. Alcohol is an antidepressant you know, so it’s not like it’ll be helpful with the sleep schedule I’m trying to fix.” 

 

Trinity stares him down, taking a slow bite of her pasta. He messes around with the food on his own plate, trying not to look so damn guilty over saying no to something. 

 

“What’s the actual reason?” 

“What?” 

 

“Why don’t you want to go?”

 

“I just told you-”

 

She shakes her head and points the knife at him accusingly. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re bad at it and it gives me a headache. So spill. What exactly is so fucked up about going to a bar with your friends?”

 

He takes a deep breath and stares at the wooden table. Counts to ten. “I’ve never technically had a drink before.” 

 

It’s silent. He can hear the traffic outside as he waits for her response. For the teasing, the mocking, all of it. 

 

“We have got to make a list of things I can expose you to. I thought Javadi was bad, but it might take years to properly corrupt you.” 

 

She’s shoving more food into her mouth when he looks back up at her. There isn’t a judgemental expression on her face, but a thoughtful one. “I mean, we can work our way up to weed or edibles. You’re at least an adult so it’s not as illegal. You want to add skinny dipping? Not my thing but I’ve seen how cute your ass is.” 

 

He ignores the jab. “Trin, seriously. I don’t think I can do this.” 

 

“Do what? Dennis, it’s a beer or two. I’m not asking you to get black out drunk. Yet.” 

 

“I don’t really want my first drink to be…” he gestures vaguely. 

 

Trinity nods. “Ah. You don’t want to embarrass yourself anymore than you do by existing.” 

 

“Honestly, yeah. I’d really prefer not to.” 

 

She gets up, leaving him alone at the table, and goes to the cabinet above the microwave. “Okay. So we just treat this like we do anytime you have a test or a weird case or something.” She turns around with two clear bottles of liquid in her hands. “We study.” 

 

Trinity is kind enough to start him off with some whipped cream flavored vodka shots. It’s not awful, and the burn is threateningly familiar. When he stomachs those without throwing up, she makes him take a sip of whiskey. He decidedly hates that. 

 

And they go around and around. Taking a few sips and splitting a drink or taking a shot to just get it over with. He can’t really tell the difference unless he really, really hates something, like the tequila. 

 

“People drink this for fun?” he coughs after it slides down his throat. He’s moved to the floor to try and get gravity to bring him back down from the way that he’s feeling. 

 

Trinity laughs, swaying a little as she pours another concoction. “God, you would say some shit like that. I know for a fact Dana lives for Tuesday margs after work with Princess and Perlah and that’s tequila. Maybe they’ll take you along next time.”

 

 “Absolutely not. Princess and Perlah will just blackmail me for life.” 

 

“What do you think I’m doing right now?” 

 

He groans when she hands him the shot glass. “I think you’re giving me alcohol poisoning." 

 

It’s not really that bad. She’s not overloading him, just giving him enough to try everything. For every sip he takes, she takes two. It’s a much kinder reaction that he thought he’d be getting. 

 

He doesn’t feel bad, like he always thought he would. He feels lighter. Everything is a lot funnier than it probably should be to him, including the story Trinity recounts of her first time getting drunk. He likes how everything in his line of sight is just a little fuzzy and how he can’t focus or think on anything for too long. For once he’s not having to be so in tune with himself and everything around him. He just has to sit and laugh and drink. 

 

Eventually she does stop pouring him drinks because he looks a little too red for her liking. 

 

“You need food,” she decides, standing and grasping the side of the table for support. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the laughter or the liquor. “You barely eat any food, so there’s nothing to soak up all the shit.” 

 

He laughs a little because she has no idea and because everything is funny right now. “I just have a fast metabolism. And I don’t think I should eat when I feel like this.” 

 

“That’s exactly what they want you to think.” 

 

“Who?” 

 

She waves her hand around, pointing out the kitchen window. “They. Them. Big liquor.” 

 

He doubles over, stomach aching from his laughter. She curses at him while moving towards the fridge and pantry cabinet. “We need carbs. Bread. Bread would be best. Could you use a stove in your current state?”

 

“A stove?” 

 

“I want a grilled cheese. I think that’ll work for both of us. God, I can’t believe I have to go to work tomorrow. I’m so fucking tired. At least we have Sunday off.” She opens the pantry cabinet and stares at the food. 

 

“If you’re so tired, we should just not go out Saturday.” 

 

She flips him off as she attempts to make them something simple to eat. He isn’t nearly as drunk as she is, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop her from using the stove. 

 

It’s wild and stupid and oddly homey. It’s so weird to be sleeping in a space he feels safe in, and with a person he actually trusts. Everytime he thinks he’s used to it, he wakes up to her yelling a goodbye, or movie nights, or trips over a pair of her shoes and it just doesn’t feel real. 

 

When she leaves in the morning for her shift, he doesn’t even move from his bed. It’s not until she calls him that he manages to roll over to answer his phone.  

 

“There was an accident on the highway involving several semis,” she says as her greeting. Typical of Trinity to get right to the point. “We need the extra hands because one of the day shift nurses has the flu, and yes, I know I jinxed us. And I know you’re probably a zombie anyway, but Dr. Robby wouldn’t have asked me to call if it wasn’t necessary.” 

 

That definitely doesn’t get him tumbling from his bed and dressed in clean scrubs in record timing. He pretends that it’s just his eagerness for practice. It’s being an extra set of hands when there’s not enough people around and nothing more. 

 

He squeezes his way through the always filled to the brim waiting room at PTMC, noting that there seems to be a plethora of family members already arriving. The news is playing the crash over and over again in the corner of the room, and if anyone knew where the remote was, they’d probably change it. 

 

The Pitt is, as usual, a mess. Nurses carrying bags of blood between rooms, patients waiting in the hall, doctors yelling, and machines beeping every few seconds. It’s so welcoming that he practically skips down to the lockers to put his things away and heads back out into the chaos. 

 

He swears he feels the air shift before he feels Dr. Robby’s hand curling around his shoulder. His thumb rests right by his pulse point of his neck, and Dennis prays very quickly that the older doctor cannot feel how it quickens under his touch. 

 

“Welcome back, Whitaker. Figures you’d come back to an absolute nightmare.” 

 

Dennis smiles up at the man as a blush creeps into his cheeks. “It’s good to be back.” 

 

“Even better to have you. Grab a patient and hop on in.” 

 

And he does. He falls into the madness easily, like he’s not completely exhausted from only getting a few hours of sleep over the last forty-eight hours. He and Samira handle one of the semi-truck drivers together, working through some bone and cartilage. He works with McKay on a woman who had blocked the airbag from hitting her dog with her arm. 

 

He just so happens to be waiting for the next round of patients when he’s standing beside Dr. Robby again. 

 

“You okay?” the doctor murmurs lowly as they stand outside in the bay area. His dark brown eyes scan Dennis from head to toe, assessing him quickly. “I know you’re just getting back to normal hours. It can be a difficult switch. If you need a break, just tell me.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Dennis says confidently. He rubs his hands anxiously, trying not to enjoy the fact that someone is paying attention to him. “Really, Dr. Robby. I’m all good.” 

 

Dr. Robby reaches out and Dennis freezes. A curl that had fallen stuck stubbornly to his forehead is pushed aside, firmly put back into place. When Robby pulls his hand away, he brushes right past Dennis’s cheek, a quick stroke of his thumb sending shivers down Dennis’s spine. The touch is gentle, but firm, and there, and his breath is missing from his lungs. 

 

“I missed your optimism.” 

 

Before Dennis can respond, or recover,  because what the fuck just happened the ambulances they were promised start rolling up. Dr. Robby doesn’t even look at him as he starts barking orders to the other medical assistants and nurses that appear. He just looks down, and his hands aren’t shaking anymore. 

“Male, teenager, was driving when he got struck,” the EMT rattles off. He really doesn’t have a choice other than to slide back into the action. 

 

Dennis is quick to slide beside Dr. Robby and silently admires the way that the man can move so smoothly and without any hesitation. It must be so relieving to just know what to do at any given point. Especially of that point is touching one of your med students so tenderly. 

 

The team of doctors and nurses wheel the stretcher into one of the trauma rooms, and within seconds the teenager is on the bed and getting hooked up to different machines and he somehow ends up near the head of the patient. 

 

Dennis is going through and checking the airway when he feels the chain. He pulls the silver metal out carefully from under the kid’s shirt, trying not to do anything to fuck up everything else going on around him. His eye catches on the tag and he freezes, reading it twice just to be sure. 

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” he calls before anyone can insert anything else. Princess’s hand hovers over the arm of the little body, about to hang a unit of O positive. “No blood directive. He’s a Jehovah’s Witness. He can’t receive anything.” 

 

Dr. Robby swears and Dr. Collins’s entire face drops. 

 

“You can’t be serious,” Collins snaps, moving higher up to look at the pendant clutched in Dennis’s fingers. He looks over at Dr. Robby, whose jaw is clenched. “Oh, motherfucker-” 

 

“Okay, okay,” Dr. Robby says. His face is irritated but he doesn’t let it show in his tone. “We have to patch what we can. No blood so we need to get him to stop bleeding sooner rather than later. Good catch, Whitaker.” 

 

It doesn’t really feel like one, but he nods anyway. 

 

They do as much damage control as they can on the teenager. Wrapping what they can, stopping the blood loss as best as they can; it’s not enough but no one is brave enough to say anything. It’s evident in the silent anger lingering in the room that everyone knows exactly how this is going to end unless they can get ahold of the family. 

 

It’s still good practice. His hands don’t even feel like his own when he’s able to do procedures in seconds that used to take him minutes. His first shift he always felt like everyone was waiting for him to fuck up but now, they don’t bat an eye when he’s administering pain meds or performing sutures. They trust him to not kill a patient anymore. 

 

Dr. Robby calls his name while everyone else is leaving and crooks his finger in that “come here” motion that he loves to use. Dennis hesitates, bouncing slightly on his heels as he waits for the attending to address him, the room slowly emptying out. Once it’s finally empty and the doors shut Dr. Robby starts talking. 

 

“It was a good catch.” He looks up from where he’s finishing wrapping the bandage around the kid's hand. There must be some sort of uncertainty on Dennis’s face because he repeats himself. “It was. You just saved this entire hospital from a massive lawsuit, and that alone is a good catch.” 

 

“It doesn’t really feel that way,” he mumbles back. 

 

“We can only do so much when our hands are tied by religious beliefs. Now everyone gets to keep their medical licenses and you haven’t fucked up your career before it’s even started.” 

 

He finishes what he’s doing and stands, removing his gloves without taking his eyes off of Dennis. “You tend to let these things get to you. Things that are out of your control when you’ve done everything correctly. So I’m asking you now if you can handle this one.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“If you can’t, I can find someone else to cover. I need you at your best when you’re in here, and if you need something a little easier-” 

 

“I don’t need it easier, Dr. Robby.” The little spot on his cheek feels more like a burn now. “I can handle it. I swear.” 

 

And he hates how all the warmth in his attending’s gaze is gone from outside, replaced by a calculating stare and skepticism. He tries to stand up a little taller, meeting the man’s eyes directly. 

 

Whatever facade he puts on seems to work, or maybe Dr. Robby just doesn’t have time to handle it. Either way, he nods and looks pointedly back at the chaos outside. “Alright. Go. I’ll let you know if I need you in here or if the family comes by.” 

 

It’s a dismissal and it feels mean. 

 

Dennis is handed other patients, other cases, and he maintains himself. Tries to look steady and confident even though he feels like he’s been scrutinized for just trying to do his job. 

 

Realistically, he knows that’s what Dr. Robby is doing too. Making sure that on a shift like this, his student doctor doesn’t become a liability. But the moment in the ambulance bay still replays in his mind over and over. A touch of kindness, maybe just a teacher being a teacher. 

 

Dr. Robby finds him a few hours later, or maybe it’s just a few minutes, face tired and grim. “Apparently our Jehovah Witness’s family is out in the waiting room. I need you to go find them and bring them to the trauma room. If you feel comfortable explaining things, go ahead. Otherwise, just wait for me.” 

 

Dennis nods, not bothering to give a verbal response. He’s terrified of the word vomit that will dispel from that. 

 

Donnie goes with him to collect the family, offering a bit of back up for whatever they’re about to encounter. The faces of the waiting room change but sometimes Dennis swears they’re all the same. Children, elderly, couples, and irritation runs rampant between the walls. 

 

“Which one screams “modern medicine isn’t real?” Donnie mutters. 

 

Dennis spots the family first. Dressed modestly, but in simple clothes. No patterns or anything that’s trendy. Nothing to make them stand out in any way, and they all look just a little bit too uncomfortable with the noise. He can recognize that awkwardness and offputting nature anywhere. He’s not sure if it’ll ever leave him. 

 

He doesn’t say anything, just starts moving towards them. He doesn’t really care if Donnie is following behind him or not. 

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Clover?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm and even. The parents stand, each looking equally distressed. “I’m one of the student doctors here. Your son is in the back. If you’d like, you can follow me, and I’ll take you to him.” 

 

“Is he alright?" the mom asks, tears already lining up in her eyes. “Is Henry okay?” 

 

“He came in with a few lacerations on his face, and his leg was badly injured in the wreck.” Dennis leads them through the maze of people, past the double doors, still keeping his voice steady. “We did as much damage control as we could, and stopped the bleeding. He’s gotten an MRI and x-ray to better assess his internal injuries. It looks like he might need surgery at some point to fix some of the damage.” 

 

If Donnie is impressed that Dennis sniffed them out, the ER’s eternal bloodhound, he doesn’t mention it. He just follows along with them. 

 

Dennis leads them right to their son, opening up the doors to let them go through first. “Can you go find Dr. Robby?” he says quietly to Donnie. The nurse's gaze flickers between the med student and the parents. “I’lll wait with them for now.” 

 

The other man nods, seemingly grateful to not be near them, and heads off around the corner. Before Dennis can shut the door, he scans around the area, and sees Dr. Abbot entering through the same doors he just came from. It must be bad enough if he’s coming in this early. 

“You didn’t-” Dennis lets the doors shut and turns to face the small family at the sound of Mrs. Clover’s voice. Her entire face is pinched in pain. “You didn’t give him blood did you? Because he can’t- we can’t have it. The blood, I mean.” 

 

He shakes his head quickly. “No ma’am. We saw the necklace before anything happened and followed proper protocol.” 

 

“Thank God he was wearing it,” the husband mutters. He looks unwilling to touch his son even as his wife clutches the pale, bandaged hand of her child. “Worth the fight to get it around his neck.” 

 

“When will he wake up?” she asks, looking back at Dennis. “If you didn’t have to get blood, it can’t be that bad, right? Will he be awake soon?” 

 

“My attending is on his way to explain the situation better than I can,” Dennis says calmly. “For now, you can just sit with him, and if you have any questions about his wounds, I can help answer them.” 

 

“We can wait for the doctor,” Mr. Clover reassures his wife. She doesn’t reply, staring down at her son like she doesn’t fully understand what is happening. 

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Dennis watches as the mother’s lips begin to move slowly, no sound coming from them. He thinks of all the healing prayers he learned in college and wonders which of them she’s saying now. 

 

Dr. Robby enters the room with a quiet grace that Dennis knows the parents appreciate. He introduces himself, eyes sliding over to Dennis’s stiff form, and repeats the majority of what he had already said earlier. The parents drink it in as they wait for the magic words that their son is fine, and just needs time to wake back up. 

 

“Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Clover, for the sake of your son, I won’t sugarcoat this for you. If your son does not get surgery he needs, he will succumb to his injuries, and he will not survive. With the surgery, he’s going to need blood.”

 

Dennis can see the realization followed by the disgust. He’s seen those looks before in churches, in Youth Groups; the silent judgement of the secular world by those holier than thou. 

 

“We don’t-” Mr. Clover clears his throat. “Our beliefs don’t allow for such measures to be taken.” 

 

“And I understand that,” Dr. Robby says, staying calm. “But the severity of your son's injuries means that his body cannot adequately produce the blood he needs for surgery. We’re doing all that we can to keep him stable right now.” 

 

“Can’t you just keep doing that? So that his body has time to heal?” 

 

“It’s not as easy as that,” Dennis says, hoping there’s no edge in his voice. He hopes he sounds as calm and sure as his attending who’s looking at him like he needs to watch himself. “His scans showed complications with his livers and kidneys. We need to get in there to fix them and to stop any internal bleeding we couldn’t locate.” 

 

“But he-” Mrs. Clover shakes her head. “If he’s going to need surgery, isn’t there a way to do it without the transfusions?” 

 

“No, ma’am,” Dennis says softly. “He’s going to need the blood to replenish what he already lost and what he’s continuing to lose.” 

 

“But you have some time,” Dr. Robby says quickly. “To make a decision. Not a lot of time, but he is stable for now. If we’re going to treat him, we need to do it sooner rather than later.” 

 

Neither parent responds to that.

 

“We’ll give you some privacy. If you need anything, just find either one of us, or a nurse.” Dr. Robby smiles, but it does nothing to offer comfort to the parents. 

 

Dennis follows Dr. Robby out of the room, and towards the nurses’ station. Some of the chaos has started to calm down, and it’s relieving to see. Victoria waves at him excitedly from her position with a patient and he grins back. It’s reassuring to see that Trinity might not be lying completely about their enthusiasm for his existence. 

 

“Think you can talk any sense into them, Whitaker?” Dana asks as she slides the chart his way. 

 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he debates it over. “I mean, maybe. It just depends. It’s hard to tell when they’re the type that believe in components of the blood argument over anything else.” 

 

“If anyone can do it, it’s you. Give them a bit and try again later,” she suggests before moving on to another task. 

 

“Did you get anything out of them before I came in?” Dr. Robby asks once they’re alone again. 

 

Dennis shakes his head, writing down the meds received in the appropriate boxes. “No. The dad made it pretty clear that the son fought them on wearing the alert necklace in the first place. My guess is that they’re more strict about it than Henry.” 

 

“You don’t seem surprised by that.” It’s not judgemental, it’s a plain statement. He just nods. 

 

“I’m used to people who don’t believe in medicine.” 

 

It slips out and he sees Dr. Robby’s motion stall beside him. “Don’t believe in it?” 

 

Dennis shrugs. “Yeah. On my family’s farm, we would vaccinate the cows and use the chemicals on the crops. That was allowed for some reason. But when it came time to actual meds, no one trusted it. Or wanted it.”

 

“Oh.” He can practically see the gears turning in the older man’s head. “Wait, so are you…” he gestures to the patient room and Dennis shakes his head quickly. 

 

“No, no. No, I actually got into a massive accident with a horse when I was younger. I would’ve died with the blood they gave me. My folks were more so the televangelical type.” 

 

“Ah. And that made you want to major in theology?” There’s no judgement again. He sounds genuinely curious. Like he really wants to know and what’s the harm in being honest? 

 

“That was kind of the trade off for leaving the farm. Getting to leave meant I had to study something that would be beneficial for the family.” 

 

“And that wasn’t pre-med?” 

 

“Not in my town.” Dennis thinks about Christmas and car rides from the airport. “And not for my family.”

 

“I mean, they must be proud now. And you can always take on rural medicine. Lots of need around the country for doctors in small town communities.” 

 

Dennis almost laughs. “I’ve had my fill of small town life. I won’t be going back if I can help it.” 

 

Before he can probe anymore, Dr. Robby gets pulled away to deal with another patient, effectively ending the conversation. 

 

Dennis finishes his chart and starts back at the top, checking in on his patients again. He orders more meds, more labs, and discharges a few who only had road rash or non-serious injuries. He keeps an eye on the room that the Clovers are in, but no one comes in or out that he is aware of. 

 

He can feel himself dragging and when he manages to slip away to check his blood glucose, he’s greeted with a low that he can only course correct with a small bottle of juice because in his haste to leave the apartment, he failed to repack his bag. 

 

His lack of prepping must impact his work because Abbot finds him an hour or so later, an annoyed look on his face. “You leave the night shift for one day and you’re already back to skipping the breaks?” 

 

Dennis refuses to let himself blush from the scolding. “Well, I mean, there’s kind of a lot going on right now. If you haven’t noticed.” 

 

The night shift cowboy rolls his eyes. “You’re always full of excuses.” He hands him some random protein bar and a bottle of water. Dennis tries not to be too excited that it’s the lemon ones that he really likes. “You know the drill, kid. Twenty minutes in the break room. I’d rather not fill out a workers comp report tonight.” 

 

Then something weird happens, and not for the first time that hour, let alone that night. He reaches out and brushes down the same curl that Robby had fixed only hours earlier, smoothing it back into place. Dennis is practically glued in place as he nods, and his fingers brush right under Dennis’s chin. 

 

“You need some sleep too.” His voice is low, and Dennis might swoon. “Don’t get pulled into any more cases. I know Robby brought you in because he needed the extra hands, but you need to take care of yourself.” He nods in the direction of the break room. “Twenty minutes and not a second less.” 

 

Mel joins him in the break room, grinning from ear to ear about a procedure that McKay let her do. He tries to listen to her and nods in the right places, but he really can’t focus fully until the story is nearly over. Screw Abbot and his ability to notice the second something was off with him. Screw lingering touches and tingly pieces of skin. And his never ending supply of food and treats. 

 

“Are we still on for tonight? Becca still has someone watching her and I think this is the first time in years I won’t be spending a Friday night with her.”

Dennis immediately feels like an asshole. “Oh, we really don’t have to, Mel. Not if it’s going to mess up your schedule at all.” 

 

“No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so passive aggressive. I really am looking forward to it. I meant it more in a ‘I can’t believe all of my Fridays have looked the same for so long.’ I promise I am excited.” 

 

She looks and sounds so genuine that Dennis doesn’t think he can say no. Even if the clock is getting later and later with no end in sight. The accident crazy turned into normal crazy, and the Pitt is like quicksand with how easily it pulls him under. 

 

“Me too,” he says instead. “It should be fun.” 

 

Because he’s a good liar, Mel beams and pats his arm in the most affection the resident can offer before heading off to rejoin the world. 

 

If he wasn’t so terribly socially awkward himself, Mel would probably only confuse him. Trinity can struggle with her little quirks, but Dennis is used to it. He can respect her silence and willingness to admit when she needs something. She’s the most mentally stable of their little clique, which he isn’t sure is an insult or a goddamn miracle at this point. 

 

He stands and his eye catches on the Clover’s room. It’s been long enough for him to make an appearance. He tosses his trash, washes his hands, and heads back in that direction. 

 

The parents have barely moved since he was last in the room. Mrs. Clover is still clinging to her son’s hand and he wishes that there was a little more color in the teenager's skin. They both turn to stare when the doors open and he enters in. 

 

“I just wanted to check in on his vitals,” Dennis lies easily. He makes a show of checking the monitors and the IV lines. He knows there’s no change, good or bad. Because if it had gone one way over the other, Henry would have been in the morgue by now. 

 

But still, it brings them a little comfort and he knows it does because they seem to relax just a bit as he maneuvers around the unmoving body. 

 

“And have we made any decisions regarding the transfusions?” Dennis asks as he pretends to tap at the heart monitor. 

 

Mr. Clover clears his throat. “No. We’re-we’re still discussing it.” 

 

From the silence in the room, he doubts that there was much talking going on. 

 

He just nods, “I’ll come by again and check on Henry in a little while.” He moves towards the door, hesitating slightly. He hates how hopeless they look, how small the teenager looks, and hates the fact that the Jehovah Witness necklace is laying so prominently on Henry’s chest.

 

He just can’t help himself. “When I was younger, I got into an accident on my family’s farm. I lost a lot of blood because my dad didn’t know how to stop the bleeding. The transfusions saved my life. My parents weren’t really sure about it, any of it, but our pastor told them that sometimes God sends a sign through the medical professionals and the help they offer.” 

 

God, he is so fucked if any senior resident or attending heard him say that. But Mrs. Clover looks almost a little bit hopeful, and that has to count for something. He leaves the room as quietly as he entered it. 

 

Victoria finds him next as he waits for labs to come back on Henry that he knows haven’t changed. She doesn’t even recognize his somber mood, nearly jumping from excitement. “Did Trinity tell you she has some friends who will let me get a drink if I want? Not that it’ll be a first for me, but still. I can actually get something and not just be designated driver.” 

 

“Who’s driving us home?” he asks, leaning against the wall and watching her twitch anxiously around the tight hall. 

 

“I think we can just Uber. We’re pregaming at your place after all. Yours and Trinity’s. I’ve never actually pregamed before so I don’t even really know what that means.” 

 

He tries not to laugh. It would be fitting that the youngest in their group had just as much if not the same amount of real world exposure that Dennis had. She’s just so excited to be doing something cool that he doesn’t feel like mentioning that he could probably take a four hour nap on the floor right now. 

 

Dr. Robby finds him an hour or so later, looking exhausted. The shift is almost over, Abbot’s already taken over all the cases save a few. Which means when Dr. Robby corners him, he knows what it’s for. 

 

“Did you get anything out of them?” Dr. Robby asks as he looks over the labs Dennis had just received. He sighs heavily at the silence he gets in response. “Okay. Well, there’s only so much we can do. Might as well give it one more shot.” 

 

There’s a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach when they head back into the room. Henry looks worse, hooked up to more machines than a teenager should be, hand still cradled in his mothers hand. 

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Clover,” Dr. Robby starts. “I just got Henry’s most updated labs from upstairs. His organs are starting to fail, and at this rate, surgery is the only thing that is going to help him.” 

 

“But-” Mrs. Clover shakes her head. “Is there any way it can be done without the transfusions?” 

 

“I’m afraid not.” 

 

“Then no.” Mr. Clover is practically glaring at the doctor. “We already said that once. You came in here again to tell us the same thing?” 

 

“I came to talk through your son’s very limited options.” 

 

“None of those options matter if they go against everything we believe, and everything our son believes. We will not be the reason his faith fails and he’s forsaken from our God.” 

 

His head is spinning. It’s like hearing a line from his childhood, being told about all the ways he wasn’t enough to be saved or loved or chosen by God. And maybe he is fucked over, and will never find the answers, for that, but why not give Henry the chance? Why not agree to something that could save him now, why couldn’t it be that God was offering up a solution through them? 

 

He knows what it feels like to not be saved and he doesn’t want that for the teenager on the bed. 

 

“The Bible talks about abstaining.” Dennis speaks before he can help himself. He locks eyes with Mr. Clover. “That’s the key verbiage that you’re hung up on, right?” 

 

Everyone in the room stares at him. 

 

“Because Scripture says to abstain from any way you can take in blood. Eating it was the key way during the Abrahamic days. Unclean animals and clean ones. But blood is sacred to God, and so you won’t take in something that is ordained by him.” 

 

“Whitaker-” 

 

“That is what we believe, yes,” Mr. Clover interrupts whatever Dr. Robby was going to say. “And you are going to tell us, what? That a medical procedure isn’t consumption? I’ve heard that argument before.” 

 

“No, I was going to say that there are certain passages of the Bible where life takes precedence over Old Testament law. Jesus performed healing on the Sabbath, because he held life in regard above all else.” 

 

“Are you a doctor or a pastor?” 

 

“I studied theology in college. And I grew up in an area where medicine is basically considered to be witchcraft in the modern era.” Dennis shrugs as he adjusts his scrubs to pretend like he isn’t shaking. Is it rage? Is it fear? “I’m just saying, I understand where you’re coming from. I know the Scripture that you’re referencing. And I know that it might not seem like it, but God would forgive you for saving your son. He’s the one that sacrificed his own, after all.” 

 

There’s a very odd quiet that falls over the room. He stares at the teenage boy in the bed, and pretends like he isn’t severely out of line. As if he didn’t just have a career ending conversation with a patient's family. 

 

But God, if he could just convince one family. One person, one single person, to think a little bit differently about the text they believed in. To consider living in a newer way and still be holy and good and in God’s favor. If he can just maybe do that, maybe there’s a chance for him too. 

 

Which is why he can feel his entire body slump when Mr. Clover looks at him, then Dr. Robby, and says firmly, “No blood. Just do what you can to save him.” 

 

It’s like he’s twelve again and being berated at the dinner table. He’s nine again and being told to turn the other cheek when his brothers mock him. He’s seven and wondering why he’s the one who is always left out, always told no to, always shunned. 

 

Dr. Robby talks to the parents about something. He isn’t listening anymore. He doesn’t know how he manages to put one foot in front of the other and walk out of the room. He feels dizzy, like his blood sugar is crashing, and him along with it. 

 

All he can focus on is the dark material of the other doctor’s jacket and nearly crashes into him when Dr. Robby suddenly stops walking, just barely out of eyesight of the room, and turns to face him. 

 

“Whitaker. Hey, hey, are you alright?” 

 

He can’t speak. If he does, he’s going to start crying. And he really doesn’t want to start weeping in front of his boss. 

 

Dr. Robby must be able to see it, because he takes hold of Dennis’s arm so gently, like he doesn’t trust him to walk himself, steering him towards the back hallway of the area, where no one can see them, and it's quiet. 

“Alright, kid, take a pause,” Dr. Robby murmurs. 

 

Dennis leans against the wall and tries to breathe. He feels nauseous and his head is pounding. He can’t remember the last time he had a sip of water. He’s pretty sure he might pass out in front of his boss and probably lose his job officially after that. 

 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” the older doctor says gently. “There are a lot of treatments we can convince families to try for their loved ones. But not even you can convince someone to betray their religious beliefs.” 

 

“But it shouldn't be that,” he says bitterly. “It shouldn’t be picking approval from above or suffering on Earth.” He turns to stare at Dr. Robby who looks a little surprised by his outburst. “I mean really. That’s the kind of God they want to appease? The one who would let their kid bleed out on the table when there is something they can do to stop it? Something they can pick up and save him? Because it’s not always that easy.” 

 

“It’s not,” the older man agrees slowly. “It’s not, and no one will disagree with you on that. But what’s better, Dennis? Saving him and believing for the rest of his mortal life that he doesn’t belong? Or letting his family make a choice that brings them peace?” 

 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I think he would probably agree that he deserved the chance to figure it out himself. Living with yourself when you hate what you are is still better than being dead, right?” 

 

Then he turns, and heads towards one of his other patients because he can’t do this. He can’t just stand here and have this conversation. He can’t bring out all of his issues and beliefs and trauma out and ask the man who told him he’s not sure if there is a God the same questions that he spent four years of his life trying to answer. 

 

And what a waste of fucking time that was. Because he can’t even convince a group of people to consider using blood to save their child. 

 

He avoids Dr. Robby for the rest of his brief shift. Stays clear of the trauma room with the Clovers, even when he can hear the flatline, the yelling, and the eventual sobs coming from it. Maybe it makes him a really shitty doctor, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

 

Trinity finds him as he’s wrapping up his chart on the patient with a concussion, signing the discharge papers to hand off to Perlah. His easiest patient of the day, and yet it still took nearly five hours to process through everything. No one has looked twice at him as if they could just tell he wasn’t in the mood to be his normal self. He hoped that they would all just chalk it up to a fucked up sleep schedule and leave him alone. 

 

His roommate leans against his desk station, frowning slightly at his clearly negative demeanor. “Jesus, Huckleberry, who pissed in your cereal?” 

 

“We don’t have any. You forgot to close the tab of the box again and all I could find to eat was a Pop-Tart I had stashed in my room.” 

 

“Hoarding isn’t something roommates should do. It harbors a true connection.” 

 

“Roommates should learn to close containers fully.” He puts his head down against the cool countertop and embraces the chill. “I need another Pop-Tart. Or a box of stale cereal.” 

 

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten anything in hours. I hope the place we go to has good food.” 

 

“It does!” Mel confirms as she slides her charts across the countertop to Dana, who winks at her. “Not necessarily anything healthy, but they do offer side salads.”

 

“I just don’t-” Dennis begins. 

 

“I’m not going to a bar to eat a side salad. That’s begging for food poisoning.”

 

“Does someone have food poisoning? That would ruin the whole night!” Victoria joins the small trio and they begin to make their way towards the lockers. “I personally have made sure I stayed hydrated and well fed to maintain myself tonight.” 

 

“I doubt you can handle more than a beer, but I am proud of your foolish attempt to prepare,” Trinity teases. 

 

Samira is already pulling on her jacket as they enter the small area. Her hair has become unraveled and frizzy like it does after every shift and the bags under her eyes can’t be nearly as bad as Dennis’s are. “I think I might fall asleep standing up at the bar, but I can rally. There’s food at this place, right?” 

 

The other girls start talking loudly over one another and Dennis wants to put his head through a wall. Having brothers isn’t nearly as talkative as this. They were more direct with their words, and threw elbows and fists when they couldn’t get the talking done. The girls just talk for the sake of being heard and he loves it, he swears, but after  a day like today, he just wishes all of the noise in his head could be silenced, 

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he suggests to the group. They all pause in their different motions. “Today was a lot, and I’m sure we all have things to do this weekend-” 

 

“Whitaker, I will see you at the club or I will drag you there myself.” 

 

It’s Samira who threatens him which causes him to pause and nearly laugh. She looks so serious too, a finger held up in a point at him. “We missed you, which means you missed us. I know for a fact you had a shitty day, and for once, we are not going to shove all of our feelings inside ourselves but instead cope with indecent amounts of alcohol that would make Louie proud of us.” 

 

They all look at him expectantly. He could call it off. Say no, go home, crawl under the covers, and hibernate until Monday’s shift. They’d be mad, but they’d get over it. Trinity would give him shit for a few days, and then he’d pick up her favorite snacks, and all would be forgiven. 

 

Or he could go, and be miserable and tired, and sleep the next day anyway. 

 

He glances at his locker with his pitiful snack stash, and looks back out into the Pitt. He sees Abbot and Robby pressed close together. Robby looks about as awful as Dennis feels, eyes mournful and face turned downward. Abbot’s got one hand around his waist, saying something to him in what Dennis just knows is a soothing, firm, tone. 

 

There’s nothing like that waiting for him back at the apartment. 

 

So he straightens his shoulders, and looks back at the few people he thinks tolerate his existence. 

 

“Fine. Okay. Just one drink. That’s all.”

 

They cheer and he pretends that the smile on his face is from Victoria nearly falling over in an attempt to high five the others.

Notes:

Stop being so nice to me in the comments or I'm going to cry. Someone be mean and criticize me so I can cry anyway.

I hope this is as enjoyable for you all as it is for me. Hoping to have chapter 6 up by Thursday!

Chapter 6

Notes:

I can't let these linger in my drafts or I get anxious and start overthinking.

 

The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God’s terrors are marshaled against me. - Job 6:4

 

Dennis thinks he might be dead. If not dead, then actively dying. He couldn’t remember the last time his head hurt like this. Probably last week when he had a high blood sugar for a full night shift because he hadn’t been able to sneak away to take a shot of insulin. Still, this one hurt behind his eyes, around his forehead, in his jaw, and it honestly hurt to think about what parts of him hurt. 

 

Someone was nudging his leg “Dennis. Dennis. Dennis, get up.” 

 

Who was asking him to move when he was dying? 

 

“Dennis, if you don’t get up I’m going to throw up on you.” 

 

That was a threat he wasn’t willing to risk. 

 

He managed to open his eyes, only to groan at the assault that it proved to be on his entire existence. “What? Why are you touching me? Who the fuck turned on the lights?” 

 

“Me,” a weak voice that belonged to Samira spoke up. He turns slightly, wincing at the effort it took, and squints through the brightness to find the resident sitting on the floor next to the light switch. She looked about how he felt, face impassive as sweat covered her entire forehead. “It was the best option. We need to be able to see.” 

 

“Why?” He can barely keep his eyes focused on her. 

 

“We have to get dressed.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“We have to go to work.” 

 

He blinks. “Like this?” 

 

Trinity kicks his leg from above him again. She looks…well not better but she had been the one to order the Uber the night before. To and from the apartment. So that had to count for something. 

 

“Come on. We need to be at work in an hour.” 

 

“You woke me up an hour in advance?” He closes his eyes again. “It’s Sunday. We’re off today.” 

 

“You fucking idiot, no. It’s Saturday. We’re all on call today. Sunday is our day off.” 

 

“Then why didn’t we go out on Saturday?” 

 

“I couldn’t get a sitter,” Mel admits from the couch. Her eyes were also closed and she was inhaling and exhaling on counted intervals. “For Becca.” 

 

“I thought you were going home after the club?” Trinity asks, just noticing the girl for the first time. She moves slowly towards the couch and sits down beside her, leaning against the cushions before closing her eyes. 

 

“That was before that one guy bought us a round of tequila shots because you kissed his girlfriend.” 

 

Trinity groans and covers her face with her hands. 

 

“Wait,” Dennis said, sitting upright. “Where’s Victoria? Did we lose her?” 

“No,” a small voice called from the floor. “I’m here, I just can’t move. I think I might be dying.” 

 

“For fucks sake-” Samira groans. “We’re not dead. No one is dead. But people will be dead if we don’t go to work.” 

 

“Why are we going in?” Mel asked, leaning back to curl up against Trinity. “We can’t practice medicine like this.” 

 

“I don’t think I can do anything.” Dennis rests his head on the coffee table and nearly gags at the sight of the liquor bottles. “Someone get that shit away from me. I can’t do this again.” 

“Just turn your head,” Victoria said. He slowly turns his head to the side to finally catch sight of her but keeps his head down. The wood was a welcome cold to his skin. Maybe he had a fever. “Yeah, that works. Great job. Really impressive.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Four more nurses came down with the flu. And Dr. Collins. They need all of us.” 

 

“What if we just didn’t?” Trinity offered. 

 

“There’s a nursing shortage, Trinity.” 

“Samira?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Alright,” Dennis says, cheek still pressed against the wood of the coffee table. “Alright. Here’s the plan. We’re all going to pull out our phones to make sure that Samira isn’t lying to us. When we see that she hallucinated the texts, we all go back to sleep and try again in a few hours.” 

 

“I already checked, she isn’t lying,” Mel mumbled. 

 

“Oh, motherfucking-” Victoria swore the words that they were all thinking. 

 

“New plan,” Dennis said. He could still taste the tequila on his teeth. “We get up. We drink water. And we go into our on-call shift and try not to die or kill anyone else.” 

 

“On the count of three?” Samira tried. 

“No,” snapped Trinity. “The counting is what got us here in the first place.” 

 

The counting had been a problem. After they had arrived at the apartment from work, everyone had changed out of scrubs and into normal clothes. Dennis had been forced to put away one of his many plaid flannels for a simple denim jacket he had tucked away from Nebraska winters. Trinity had said something about not looking like a farmer at the bars, and soon enough he’d actually looked dressed like a man in his twenties and not some "hillbilly loser.” Then she’d started pouring shots for everyone. 

 

He hadn’t been drunk by the time they went to the first bar, but he hadn’t exactly been sober. Trinity had been the one to order for him, because he’d realized by the time it was his turn to pick something, he didn’t know one single mixed drink or beer to order. 

 

He’d turned to his roommate with desperate eyes and she’d only stepped forward and ordered something-something tequila. 

 

Which turned out to be a horrible idea, because Dennis was a fucking lightweight and had no impulse control after two drinks. Trinity had a credit card and a determination to get him as wasted as possible. 

 

The end of the first bar was relatively familiar. They’d closed out their tabs after one or two drinks, and then moved on to one of the clubs next door. That one he really didn’t remember after the third round of free drinks. For some reason, their group was oddly attractive for people in the room. 

 

Bits and pieces of the night came to him as they slowly got ready. Some girl bought him a drink, and then some guy bought him a drink. Songs that he had heard maybe once or twice were blasting in his ear. People were touching him and he couldn;t remember the last time he had enjoyed so many hands on him. He really wasn’t even sure if he knew how to dance but it didn’t matter because everything was so easy again and so light. 

 

And then the light was in his face and burning his eyeballs out. 

 

Mel was barely able to roll off the couch. She had picked up one of the water bottles that had been scattered around the living room and refused to put it down. Clearly the plan had been to hydrate and recover at some point, but they had all passed out before that could happen. 

 

Victoria practically sobbed when she stood upright for the first time. Her hands were shaking on her knees as she held herself upright.Trinity had tried to shower but ended up laying facedown on the bathroom floor trying to breathe. Dennis elected to brush his teeth and use the remainder of his time getting ready dry heaving into the kitchen sink. 

 

It was a fucking miracle they had managed to get dressed and into Trinity’s car. Sure, Samira had rolled down the window and thrown up out the side door onto the road since Trinity drove like a fucking maniac; but otherwise, they were alive and on time. 

 

Well, ten minutes late technically, but that had been a parking issue. 

 

“No one will know,” Samira reassured them with confidence that Dennis couldn’t find. They were barely able to stumble through the parking lot without someone sighing or gagging. “We’re all messed up from yesterday anyway, and there’s less staff today. No one will notice. There’s not enough people to notice.” 

 

Maybe if they didn’t work with medical professionals whose entire livelihood was to watch out for signs of something being wrong, they would have been able to slide by without anyone picking up on their demeanor.  

 

“Looks like you all had a good night,” Dana grins as the younger staff manage to stumble their way through the doors. 

 

They looked like a mess, Dennnis was sure. He may not have had as much to drink as the others, but his head still ached and he wasn’t entirely positive he was wearing the same shoes on his feet. But if he looked down to check, he was going to throw up on them instead. 

 

“This is your fault,” Trinity mumbled to Dennis as they all tucked their belongings away into their respective lockers. Samira had found a bottle of water and was chugging it like it might revive her before rounds. 

 

“Mine?” he hissed back. “I told you I wanted to stay in! I tried to cancel the whole thing!” 

 

“It’s your fault because I have to take on the burden of traumatizing you with some normal shit. God forbid I be nice and try to demonize you with life. Which includes coming into work hungover, so congratulations. One step closer to hell.” She leaned her head against the metal and inhaled deeply. “Jesus Christ, I think we might already be there.” 

 

They stumble through rounds, barely managing to keep it together. Victoria leaned her head against Dennis’s shoulder when she thought no one was looking, and he had to nudge her upwards when one of the residents turned around. Mel was still holding onto the water bottle like it’s going to do something by being in her grasp. Samira ducked her head into an empty patient room to vomit, and he just offered a tissue he had snagged from the front when she finished. 

 

It’s obvious by the way that Dr. Robby is glaring at them that they aren’t exactly being discrete. Dennis had no idea how any of them were going to get through the next hour, let alone eight to twelve. 

 

They’re dismissed with their orders after rounds, but before Dennis can get too far, a hand grips at his elbow and steers him towards one of the hallways. “One second, Whitaker. Need to have a quick chat with you.” 

 

He really doesn’t want Dr. Robby to be the one to fire him so he tries to wipe the If I move too quickly I’m going to vomit please slow down look off of his face. The hold Dr. Robby has on him is not one he can shake off if he tried, so he just follows after the man like a lost puppy. 

 

The hallway is empty as Dr. Robby stops and finally turns him around to face him. His arms cross over his chest and Dennis will not look at that right now, he will not get turned on by the fact that his boss looks so serious right now. 

 

“We need to have a conversation about yesterday.” 

 

Dennis tries not to look completely fucking confused. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Yesterday, Whitaker. We need to talk about it.” His entire face is turned down in a near glare, and he’s never looked so upset with the med student. 

 

And yesterday was the Jehovah Witness patient, so yeah, he’s totally getting fired. Dread fills his stomach and all he wants to do is go home. 

 

“Dr. Robby, I-” 

 

“Robby! We’ve got a GSW en route, eight minutes out!” Dana calls from the nurses station. 

 

Dr. Robby groans and rubs his face tiredly. The attending already looks over the entire shift and Dennis hates that he has become another thing on his list of issues. 

 

“Alright. I’m sure you noticed, but you all got buddied up for the day for some partial shadowing.” 

 

He did not and his expression gives him away. Dr. Robby just sighs in disappointment and that should not make Dennis want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, but it does. 

 

“Okay, well since all of you look like you might fall over and become a patient taking up a bed, you’re buddied up. Go help McKay with triage. Push fluids and try not to look so ill. I’ll find you later, alright?” 

 

Maybe Dr. Robby is being generous enough to him by letting him work his last shift before getting tossed out of the program. Then again, maybe it’s a punishment to be forced to work like this. 

The guessing game is exhausting, but pulling him away to speak to him is why he can feel his heart beating out of his chest. Dr. Robby is so god damned intentional that it makes Dennis’s knees weak. He won’t single him out in a crowd, and he actually does care if he’s okay or not. 

 

Dennis is too hungover to not make heart eyes at the man as he leaves to help Dana. 

 

He finds McKay who looks more amused than anyone else at the entire situation. She doesn’t make any snide comments, just hands him a bottle of water. 

 

“Don’t open your mouth if you’re just going to throw up on the patient,” she advises. “And don’t worry about Robby. We’ve all come into on calls in a less than ideal state.” 

 

He doesn’t think any of them have been fired over the state they’ve come in, but he doesn’t say that. He just nods and tries to take small sips of water as they head to the waiting room. 

 

It’s one thing to go through a shift sleep deprived. It’s another to work through one hungover. 

 

Everything is roughly a hundred times harder. Asking patients questions, reading charts, standing upright, breathing, inserting an IV. His hands feel heavy and uncoordinated. His eyes still can’t fully handle the bright lights of the hospital. He can’t even remember the last time he checked his blood sugar so that had to be contributing to this entire experience.  

 

McKay is way too nice to him. Never snaps, never even rolls her eyes. Just offers him advice and stays out of the way of the trashcan. They slowly work through a few rounds of patients. He orders labs and meds. He stitches together a cut from an unfortunate incident with a frisbee and a mailbox. He breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. 

 

Every single time he looks up, Dr. Robby is looking at him. It’s not like before, lingering stares and fleeting glances. No quick check-ins. No, it’s blatant, obvious observations. Dennis turns a corner and the attending is already looking at him. He goes to get a prescription for a patient with some minor burns, and Dr. Robby is watching him punch the code in for it. 

 

His face feels permanently red after the first two hours. 

 

Mel corners him at one point with a pale face and granola bar. “You have to eat something.” 

 

“I would rather die, actually, but thanks.” 

 

She shakes the bright blue bag in front of him. The motion does not help his dizziness. “It’ll help. I won’t lie to you and say that it will feel good, because it won’t. But it’s better than nothing being in your system.”

 

“I thought we ordered food at one point?” 

 

“Dennis, we couldn’t get you to come off of the dance floor to get you to come and eat it.” 

 

He wishes Mel’s voice didn’t carry so damn well. Dr. Robby’s entire head turns at that sentence. He snags the bar out of her hand and practically glares at it. “I think I might throw up if I eat it.” 

 

“Even a bite will help. I ate all of mine and I feel great.” Her forehead is sweaty and her glasses keep sliding down her nose. 

 

“Really?” 

 

“No, I threw up half of it in the bathroom.” 

 

That seems more accurate. 

 

Still, he takes a singular bite to appease her before pocketing the rest of it. Maybe he can finish it by the end of his shift. The last thing he needs is for Abbbot to come switch off for the night and start scolding him again.

 

“I heard you had quite the night.” 

 

And yeah, that’s par for the course for today. 

 

Abbot looks so smug. Like he’s been waiting all day to come in and torment Dennis for coming into a shift hungover and reeking of liquor. He mentally curses Dr. Robby for being such a communicative husband. 

 

“Nope. Normal night, normal shift.” 

 

“Mhm.” Abbot leans in way too close and flicks an invisible piece of lint off of Dennis’s scrubs. “Is that why I could smell the tequila on you before I saw you? Or is there no reason that you look like you were peeled off of a bar floor?” 

 

“Club floor, actually,” and he slaps a hand over his mouth before he can say anything else stupid. 

 

It doesn’t matter. It’s enough ammo for Abbot.

 

“Oh, a club? That’s your choice of scenery, kid?” 

 

“It was a last minute thing. Kind of a spur of the moment. I didn’t choose it, Santos did. And I just got in the car.” 

 

“Mhm. I remember those days. I thought I had killed that habit by med school, but maybe the kids these days have more energy than we did.” 

 

“It wasn’t anything insane. We’re all here, right? We’re up and working. We’re fine.” 

“Of course you are. Can’t imagine the tab you all ran up to come in like this.” 

 

“We met a few people willing to help out.” 

 

The grin on his face makes Dennis wish he would learn to keep his fucking mouth shut for once. 

 

 “Well imagine that.”

 

Dennis’s entire face is bright red. “Not like, I mean kind of like that, but not like that. It was just a normal night, nothing happened-” 

 

There’s no coming back from this one. Abbot knows it too because he doesn’t even have to say anything and Dennis is stumbling over his words like an idiot and won’t just shut the fuck up. 

 

“We were just hanging out,” he surmises. “That’s all.” 

 

Abbot nods and the smirk will not leave his face. He raps the top of the desk with his knuckles “Sure, kid. Just hanging out and playing games. Just make sure you eat something. The last thing we need is a workers comp report.”

 

Dennis watches him walk towards his husband and wonders if there’s a way to erase the last twenty four hours of his life. 

 

He manages to slide away to check his blood sugar in the bathroom. To no surprise, he’s got an overly high level, and he tosses the rest of the granola bar in the trash can instead of eating it. He doesn’t have time to go to his locker and get his insulin, so he’s kind of just fucked for the next few hours. 

 

He does chug an entire bottle of water before he goes back out. That has to count for something. 

 

Trinity pulls him to help with a patient who chopped part of their finger off in an accident. He’s grateful for the case until he realizes that the part of a finger is actually part of three fingers and the smell of antiseptic has him breathing shakily through his mouth for nearly an hour. 

 

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other all day and they take half-hearted attempts to make conversation with the patient. Every topic is killed off before it can really get anywhere and they end up asking the guy the same question twice. Thankfully, the man seems over it enough to just close his eyes and sit in silence while they work. 

 

When they wrap up, the guy is completely asleep in the trauma room. They do their best to keep quiet for him. Dennis orders another round of pain meds and makes some notes in his chart as Trinity cleans up the mess. She comes to stand beside him as he finishes up typing into the computer. 

 

“Do we have any food at the apartment?” 

 

“We have liquor.” 

 

Trinity fake gags. Or maybe it’s a real one. Watching her swallow and make a face at the taste proves the fact that it was real. “No. We need food. Real food. Can you go to the store after this?” 

 

“If you can drive me.” 

 

“I want to sleep.” 

 

“Oh, and I don’t? We have enough to eat something tonight, I’m sure. I think the store will just end up with me falling asleep in the parking lot.” 

 

She groans. “C’mon, Huckleberry. I don’t ask for much, you know. I just want you to go so that I don’t have to.” 

 

“And I want to not show up hungover at my workplace. I guess we’re roommates that enjoy disappointing each other.” 

 

They’re too busy in their bickering to notice someone coming up to the window. There’s a tap on the glass behind them and they both jump. Dr. Robby is practically glaring into the room. He points at Whitaker and makes his typical “Come here” motion. 

 

Trinity practically slumps over in relief. “Oh, thank god. Garcia already lectured me for half an hour this morning. Apparently I’m a waste of potential and need to get my act together for the sake of fellowship opportunities. I really can’t take anything else.” 

 

“Congratulations,” Dennis said drily. “It must be nice to have such a difficult conversation. I’m sure the same praise awaits me.” He ignores her grin to follow Dr. Robby, flipping her off as he goes. She returns it without hesitation. 

 

When the older doctor doesn’t acknowledge him or touch him, he can feel panic rising in his chest. He’s never actually been fired from a job before and he’s not entirely sure what to expect. Some yelling, maybe? Pointed fingers and cursing? Some drama and flair? It doesn’t seem like Dr. Robby’s style, but he heard that the fight between him and Langdon was rough to witness. 

 

They move all the way into the back corner of the hallway by the scrubs machine before Dr. Robby even looks at him. He starts rubbing his eyes with his hand and Dennis is suddenly terrified of this conversation and wonders if he can save himself by vomiting all over the floor. 

 

“Listen, Whitaker, if there’s something going on between you and Santos, I need you to take the proper protocol.” 

 

Dennis’s head is still throbbing. It makes everything harder to understand and he genuinely has no idea as to what the man is referring to. “What?” 

“I don’t mind you two working together, but I can’t have it happen without documentation.” 

 

“Right. Documentation for what, exactly?” 

 

“Just. You know.” Dr. Robby scratches the back of his head. “Talk to HR. Fill out the paperwork, and maybe talk to Kiara about finding some work life balance? It took Jack and I a minute to find balance in this job and it can be nice to have a third party facilitator.” 

 

“Oh, that’s not..” Dennis would love for God to cash in on that smiting he was promised. He was owed a few at this point. In this particular moment he wonders if God takes prayers for immediate reconciliation. “We aren’t…we’re just roommates, Dr. Robby.” 

 

“And that’s great. Totally fine, but I just need to cover my end with workplace relationships-”

 

“No, I mean-” Dennis clears his throat and tries not to vomit at the taste of tequila he can feel rising. This cannot be a real conversation he’s being forced to have. “We aren’t together. We aren’t a couple. At all.” 

 

Dr. Robby is just staring and so he just keeps rambling. “Not that she’s not a friend! We’re friends! Great friends, great roommates. She’s been really good to me. Not like that. She’s just not into me like that. At all. And neither am I. Not because of her, again she’s great, but she’s not my type. Not that anyone here is my type, because that would be a workplace relationship thing like you said. And I would never want to cross any lines or ethical boundaries. Although everyone here is great-”

 

“Whitaker.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Stop talking.” 

 

Dennis snaps his jaw shut. 

 

The attending studies him, looks over at Santos who looks like she’d prefer to have her head in a trash can at the central desk, and then back at the med student. Dennis wonders if he could fall through the center of the Earth right now. The way he’s being looked at makes him think that the doctor doesn’t believe him and he doesn’t know how else to convince him. Minus coming out but that would really destroy whatever miniscule respect the older man might have for the med student. 

 

“Not a couple?” he finally asks. 

 

“No, sir.” 

 

“Just roommates?”

 

“Yes. I swear. It’s nothing serious.” 

 

Dr. Robby nods and smiles as if this isn’t one of the most awkward interactions they’ve ever had. “Alright. If anything changes with that, though-” 

 

“It’d take a lot for it to happen.” 

 

“Well, you never know, and with being roommates and the physical distance-” 

 

“The physical distance will not make her my type.” 

 

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just-” Dr. Robby shakes his head. “Jesus. Just. Let me know if something changes. Changes with anyone, at any point, alright?” 

 

Dennis nods and debates launching himself out into the driving line of the next ambulance. 

 

“Great. Good. Why don’t you go check on the patient in fourteen.” 

 

It's not a question but a dismissal. He practically sprints down the hall anyway. 

 

No one else gets pulled to the side for a chat with the attending. Dennis knows because that little chat did nothing for the staring he keeps getting. And now it’s doubled with Abbot, but he always smirks when Dennis makes eye contact with him and it makes him blush and burn a little across his entire body. 

 

They’re almost out of the woods by the time that he starts to feel like he can sort of be a human. Motion doesn’t make him want to collapse onto the floor and he actually manages to finish the food Mel gave him. Even though it took him hours, it’s a win. 

 

Which is exactly why his luck would run out. 

 

Even without the headache and lingering nausea, he could just tell his blood glucose was higher than it should be. He’s close to making a quick break for his locker, but of course, that’s when the stares and observing end. Before he can even step foot into the hall, he’s being tugged away by Dr. Robby. 

 

“Just a second, Whitaker.” 

 

He peeks over Dr. Robby’s shoulders to see Abbot right behind him and he feels like the cattle he used to herd with his brothers as they lead him away from any peeking eyes. 

He would actually rather be anywhere than here. In his dreams, being caught between the two attendings usually involved a lot less clothes and a bed and not the private corner by the staircase where they could probably murder him and get away with it. He resists the urge to ask if they're mad at him because he feels like the answer is glaringly obvious. 

 

“Okay,” Dr. Robby says first, breaking the silence. “Obviously, this kind of behavior isn’t acceptable. You know you can’t be at your best when you’re like this.” 

 

“I know. We got the texts and saw how many people were out.” He shifts his weight on his feet nervously. He doesn’t like how the two are staring him down. Well, he does, but he doesn’t like how they’re seeming to peel him back layer by layer while they do it. “We wanted to help.” 

 

   “Look, Whitaker, we just-“ 

   

“We expect more from you.” Abbot shrugs. “You’re one of our best med students, and you came in hungover when you knew you were on call?” 

 

He hates how his entire body feels consumed by guilt. It’s the worst he’s felt all day and he’s pretty sure there isn’t even any alcohol left in his body to be contributing to it.  “It won’t happen again?” He tries weakly. 

 

“No, it won’t, because if it does, it will be one of the worst shifts of your life. I can promise you that.” 

 

“Jack,” snaps Robby. “Not helping.” 

 

Abbot rolls his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest with a sigh. 

 

Robby softens his voice when he looks at Dennis again. “You need to be smarter than this. We know you tend to come in here when you’re already not at your best, and we let it slide because med students tend to run themselves ragged. But this? Dennis, this is just asking for trouble.” 

 

Dennis stares down at the floor. He can’t actually remember the last time someone lectured him like this. Let alone when someone lectured him because he actually deserved it. 

 

He knows it was stupid, he does. All of it was. A full shift of headaches and nausea and feeling like shit for what? One night of pretending that everything was completely fine? That he wasn’t watching the circles under his eyes become permanent? That he wasn’t struggling to find the balance? That he wasn’t failing to keep his blood glucose level and keep himself alive in turn? 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Dr. Robby sighs. A hand is on his neck before he can say anything else or turn and run from the situation. 

 

“No one is mad at you, kid,” Abbot says firmly. “But we need you to use your head outside of this place too.” 

 

“I know.” He hates how small his voice sounds. He hates that he upset both of them and caused any issues. He hates this entire day and just wants to go home. 

 

“Hey.” Dr. Robby squeezes at his neck, and Dennis lifts his chin to meet his eyes. “Jack’s right. No one is mad at you. We just want to make sure you’re being careful. Being safe.” 

 

“There are no do-overs. If you fuck up with a patient, it’s your career.” 

 

Dennis nods, eyes flickering back and forth between the men. “I know. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.” 

 

There’s a weird tension in the hall. Echoes of patients and doctors and families scatter across the tile floor. But in their tight corner, it barely comes to their attention. He realizes all at once just how close they are to him, and how they tower over him. 

 

He’s always been on the smaller side, always a runt, but standing underneath their gaze, he doesn’t feel weaker because of it. Because they’re looking right at him, all their attention is focused on him, and he feels just a little light headed. He isn’t used to someone watching him, paying attention to him. It feels weird and overwhelming and it’s a better rush than the liquor gave him last night. 

 

Dr. Robby breaks the moment first, squeezing at Dennis once more before dropping his hand. “Alright.” 

 

Maybe it’s just him, but Dennis swears his voice sounds huskier. “Okay. Go finish your write ups. Night shift is coming in early to relieve you all.” 

 

“We can stay. I can stay.” The whine in his voice is evident and he tries to cough a little to cover it up. Abbot is the one who shakes his head with a frown. 

“No reason. We’re back to full staff and half of them are already on their way in,” Jack says. He jerks his head at the doorway of the Pitt. “Go. Sooner you finish, sooner you can get to bed.” 

 

Dennis tries not to think about beds of any shape as he heads back in. 

 

It’s a little pathetic, how quickly he goes and does as he’s told. He lies and tells himself it’s because he is tired, and he wants to go to sleep. It’s because he’s already been enough of an issue today and wants to prove he can actually be good - a good doctor- and do his job. 

 

He can’t afford for it to be anything else. Like wanting to do something correctly and make Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot happy with him again. Or wanting to shake that feeling of guilt from upsetting them. It’s because he wants to do his job. 

 

That’s all it is. That’s why he’s wrapping up as the others gather around him and start working on their own charts and write ups. It’s why he helps Victoria with the math of it all because she’s too tired to think straight. And why his entire spine stiffens when the two attendings come back to the charge station and Dr. Robby finally addresses the group for the first time since they stumbled in this morning. 

 

“You all did great today. But if you come in like this again, you’re all on enema duty for a week.”

 

Dana flat out laughs. Princess hides her grin behind a folder. The only two that look completely serious about the threat are Abbot and Robby. And that’s enough to have the entire group nodding their heads and mumbling apologies. 

 

Their repentance satisfies Robby enough to dismiss them with a wave. “See you all on Monday. Go shower. I can still smell the liquor on half of you.” 

 

Samira leans over and rests her forehead against Dennis’s back. “Oh, thank god. I thought he was going to yell. He already did that once.” 

 

“We better go before he does,” he mumbles back. 

 

It’s a pitiful sight, the rag tag team of trouble going back to their lockers to grab their belongings. It’s at least a little easier than getting to the hospital had been. Dennis takes Victoria’s backpack for her before she can even ask, catching the look in her eyes easily. 

 

“Are you sure you can drive?” He asks Trinity. His roommate just tosses the keys at him in response. He shrugs and closes his fist around them. He turns to Mel who is still holding her emotional support water bottle. 

 

“You need to pick up Becca?” 

 

She shakes her head. “I told her I’d come visit her tomorrow instead. She’s already mad at me for not picking her up last night, so I don’t want to mess up anymore of her routine.” 

 

He nods and leaves it at that. Everyone at least lives relatively close to their apartment, so it won’t be too difficult to drop everyone off at their homes. Trinity can sleep in the car for all he cares. 

 

They all inhale the fresh air deeply when they step outside for the first time in hours. Dennis can still smell the tang of the city, but nothing will ever be as sweet as the air back home. It’s better than the hospital, though, so he tries to focus on that. 

 

“Did you guys see Garcia do the thoracotomy on the girl in seven?” Trinity asks. “I think my eyes were closed for half of it.” 

 

“No, but I did get to watch an abscess get drained. I think it was Abbot’s way of fucking with me.” Victoria leans against the car as Dennis unlocks it. “He likes to do that. Bully us. Trial by fire.” 

 

“I’m sure he thought it was fucking hilarious,” mumbles Samira. Everyone starts to pile in, squeezing together as best as they can. She claims the front seat, and hunches over the dashboard, resting her head on her arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so fucking awful in my life. I’m never hanging out with you all again. Lose my number.” 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done as many sutures in my career as I did today,” Mel says, everyone choosing to ignore Samira. “It’s the only thing I was allowed to do. I don’t think Dr. Robby trusted me to do anything else.” 

 

“I don’t think Dr. Robby trusts any of us to do anything. We can probably say goodbye to whatever privileges we had,” Trinity says from the backseat. “Speaking of, what did he want to talk to you about, Huckleberry?” 

 

Dennis wonders which conversation she means. 

 

“Oh. Dr. Robby thought you and I were a couple. He wanted me to make sure we had chatted with HR.” 

It’s silent for a few seconds before everyone in the car starts laughing. Trinity gags and for once it’s not a real one. Victoria has tears in her eyes as she hunches over in a fit of giggles. 

 

The car ride to drop everyone off is filled with less groans and more chatter. Reliving the night before, the day as a whole, trying to connect the dots that they seem to be missing a lot of. Samira realizes that she had drunkenly made out with someone at the bar and nearly launches herself out of the car in humiliation. Mel recounts the story of Victoria disappearing to come back with a bachelorette group who wanted them to tell them their goriest ER stories. 

 

Dennis again thinks about how weird it is as Mel pats his arm in a goodbye as she leaves the car. He’s never had any funny, wild going out stories because he never had the chance to go out. Sure, he put a little more than he should have on his credit card. At least it was debt for something age appropriate rather than essentials like soap and food. 

 

Trinity flat out refuses to wait in the car so he can attempt to get them real food from the store. Instead she just hands over her credit card from the backseat and directs him to the nearest drive thru for dinner. He doesn’t even know why he bothered because she ends up heading straight for the couch as soon as they enter the apartment and seems to be asleep before her head even hits the cushion. 

 

Fine by him. It means he can actually check his blood glucose and inject himself with the insulin that he hadn’t had in hours. It’s near instant relief, like his own personal IV line, and he compliments it with water and food. 

 

He takes a long shower. Relishes in the warmth. Decides that since Trinity isn’t going to make it off the couch tonight, he can use her water portion too. He can feel layers of germs on him and it’s nice to have a chance to just scrub it off. 

 

The bed is the best thing he’s seen all day. Untouched and clean. It squeaks a little as he falls into it and he pulls the covers over himself with a deep sigh. 

 

He lets the past few days wash over him. Lets himself feel the ache in his feet and arms. Muscles he hasn’t felt since his farming days are aching from either the night before or the work from the past few shifts. He’s not sure which. 

The conversation between Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot floats through his head. If he wasn’t so exhausted, he’s positive it’d be enough to fantasize and relive over and over. Trinity is in the living room and he’d prefer if she was in her own room or gone from the apartment entirely. 

 

No one is mad at you, kid. 

 

As if. Hard to believe, actually. Someone was always upset with him, mad at him, annoyed. His presence rarely brought any peace or comfort to those around him. 

 

He’s nearing sleep when he bolts straight up in his bed, heart suddenly racing in his chest. A conversation from the night before floats through his memory, rushing to the front of his brain. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Hi.” He hiccups into the phone, before repeating himself, not entirely sure he was loud enough. “Hi.” 

 

“Whitaker?” 

 

“Yup. That’s me.” 

 

There’s a beat of silence. “You okay, kiddo?” 

 

“I just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. I let the patient background get to my head and I didn’t do my job. You did though, so I wanted to apologize.” 

 

“Whitaker.” Dr. Robby sounds like he’s half amused, half concerned. “Are you drunk?” 

 

“Um.” He looks down at his shoes and the checkered pattern makes him dizzy. “I think so. I don’t know. Probably. Are you drunk?” 

 

Something like a laugh rings across the line and God, Dennis would do anything to keep hearing that. 

 

“Who is it?” He hears someone ask in the back. It’s a familiar voice and Dennis leans against the brick wall of the bathroom. 

 

“Guess.” 

 

“I don’t like playing your little games, Michael.” 

 

“Are we playing a game?” Dennis asks. It feels like they are, with the touching, the eye contact, the little hints they love to give out. It feels like a game that he’s losing. 

“Whitaker?” 

 

“Hi, Dr. Abbot.” 

 

“He does know he’s on call tomorrow, right?” 

 

“I know.” He kicks at the floor with his feet, and something about the squeak it makes scratches the back of his brain. “Well, I know, but that’s not really a problem right now. That’s a problem for tomorrow.” 

 

“Wasn’t asking you, kid.” 

 

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” 

 

There’s some rustling on the phone and a mention of staffing for Saturday. Dennis wonders exactly what they were doing when Robby picked up the phone. “Dennis, sweetheart, you really need to make sure you’re drinking some water. Can you do that?” 

 

“I already had some.” He sounds so whiny and he hears one of them laughing over the phone. It’s actually insane how much it makes him smile. “And every time I do Trinity and Victoria make fun of me. They say I’m a lightweight and switch it out for something else and won’t give it back to me. And they keep putting girls right by me to get me to talk to them but I don’t like them.”

 

That was all true. It’s part of the reason he had stumbled away from their group. He just needed someone to tell him it was fine, that he was fine. Someone to back him up and be on his side. 

 

“You can’t be so fucking nice to him. He barely responds to that. Now you’ve got him rambling.” Jack’s taken the phone back again. “Dennis, when you get off the phone, you go get a glass of water and drink all of it. Nothing but water from now on, alright?” 

 

“I will once the guy that promised me one more round buys me the round. I don’t want to be rude.” 

 

“No, no more. You’re on call tomorrow, kid, you’re going to be a mess.” 

 

“But he’s really nice!” 

 

Maybe. He was actually a little pushy and wouldn’t stop touching Dennis which is why he had disappeared to the bathroom in the first place. 

 

Jack snorts. “Oh, I bet he is. Bet he’s a real fucking delight. That why you skipped out on him to call us?” 

 

“No.” He doesn’t actually remember why he called them. Trinity had said something about how they looked all upset at the end of their shift, and how Dr. Robby hadn’t exactly taken the Witness kid passing very well. Maybe he was going to talk through it. That doesn’t really matter anymore. “No, I called to apologize. I think. I don’t remember. I’m sorry. For all of it.” 

 

“It’s alright, Dennis.” Robby sounds so fucking nice and it makes him feel so warm inside. “It happens. We can talk about it more later, alright?” 

 

 “Sure. You’re not mad right?” 

 

“No. No one is mad at you, sweetheart.” 

 

“Okay.” Someone is banging on the door and he swears. “Fuck. Sorry. I have to go. I think that guy wants to keep talking.” 

 

“Not another drink, Dennis, I mean it!” he hears Abbot call out. 

 

“I know, I know.” Yeah, he sounds really fucking whiny. “I’m not that stupid.” 

 

He doesn’t know if they hang up or if he does. He just looks into the mirror and nearly laughs at the dopey looking smile on his face. 

 

There’s just no way. There’s no way he’s actually that fucking stupid. 

 

He grabs his phone off of the nightstand and opens his phone app to double check. Sure enough, around one in the morning on Saturday, there is an outgoing, accepted call to Dr. Robby. 

 

No one is mad at you, sweetheart. 

 

No one is mad at you, kid. 

 

Dennis covers his head with his pillow and screams.

Notes:

You're laughing. Dennis drunk dialed his bosses while they were in bed together and you're laughing. Jack and Robby made out in the stairwell from all the sexual tension of that farmboy twink and you're laughing.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Again I am not a medical professional. If you think I am, my Googling skills are impeccable. I'm really trying to chill out on my word count too but I, like Dennis, love rambling.

What strength do I have, that I should still hope for? What prospects, that I should be patient? Do I have the strength of stone? Is my flesh bronze? Do I have any power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me? - Job 6:11-13

Okay, so it could be worse. 

 

He could have been forced to actually have a conversation about his drunken phone call to his bosses with his married bosses. Instead they chose to be merciful and not mention. 

 

Or he was just too hungover and completely missed the point of their conversation in the stairwell. 

 

He doesn’t sleep that night and decides his best course of action is to stress clean the apartment the next day. Stress cleaning to the point where things are reorganized and he’s wiping the blades of the ceiling fan in the living room when Trinity finally emerges from her bedroom. 

 

A brief look at her tells him all he needs to know. 

 

“You jinxed yourself.” 

 

“I know,” she mumbles, voice congested and raspy. She leans against the doorway and rubs her nose. “Fucking frat flu.” 

 

It’s actually the perfect time for her to get sick because he has an excuse to make a grocery list and take the car to the store. Then organize their spaces and run some laundry and pick up the mess from pregaming on Friday. And it’s as good a time as any to finally go through with that reordering of the kitchen that he’s been putting off. Anything to avoid thinking through the insanity that was Friday into Saturday and processing his actions. 

 

The healthy things. 

 

There has to be a solution to all of this. At least, that’s what he thinks as he reorganizes their spice cabinet alphabetically instead of taking a nap or doing some studying. If they picked up the call, they probably didn’t mind him calling. They would have let it go to voicemail. And he was just apologizing for something work related. He wasn’t drunk dialing to see what they were up to or if they wanted to talk to him. 

 

So he can salvage this. He can pretend it never happened unless they address it, which they would have done if they were bothered by it when they cornered him yesterday. If they cared and wanted to tell him that he stepped over the line, they would have said that. They’re married adults who can communicate their needs and boundaries clearly. 

 

He is also an adult but that seems like an arbitrary fact. 

 

The guilt just won’t leave him alone. It’s tight in his chest and he takes it out on the barely dirty surfaces of the apartment. He scrubs away and imagines he’s scraping out his own mistakes and stupid phone calls. 

 

Drunk dialing isn’t his forte. He would never have done something this reckless in college. Mainly because he barely knew what he was doing. The quick one night stands or the few weeks of seeing the same person; he was good at that. Efficient and not clingy. He never even drunk dialed or drunk texted Derek after they broke up. 

 

No, this is a first. So maybe it’s embarrassment, maybe it’s guilt, but every time the laughs across a phone line echo in his head, he burns, and scrubs a little harder. 

 

By the time that the spices are rearranged, the base boards glisten, the cleaning supplies cleaned themselves, and bleach burns the inside of his nostrils, he feels run ragged and confident in his solution. 

 

The plan is simple. If he can just avoid Dr. Robby at every turn, he can probably slip away before Abbot shows up, and then he can change his name and skip town before his next shift. Easy enough. Starting over his fourth year of med school will be difficult, but in order to avoid humiliation, it seems a necessary evil. 

 

Of course Trinity is too sick to go into work, and it would be worse than showing up hungover if she did. She’s already on thin ice so he doesn’t even attempt to make a joke with her when she informs him of her sick leave that night. Just nods and tells her to go back to bed before she spreads her germs across the hospital grade clean apartment. 

 

He’s nice enough to text the others if they want a ride into work because he needs someone else with him when he’s walking in, but of course, they’ve already secured their own ways in. It’s a reminder that they’re not really friends, but colleagues, and more so Trinity’s people anyway. 

 

Another humbling win for the week. 

The nerves are tripled from his first day in the rotation when he walks into the hospital. He’d spent an extra five minutes in the car just trying to hype himself up, or really calm himself down from facing the music. Every time he turns a corner he half expects one of the two doctors to corner him and ask him what the hell his problem was. 

 

Not that the Pitt is ever slow, but it’s quieter when he walks in. All the rooms are full, but there’s noticeably less staff moving about, and he can just feel that something is off. Something isn’t quite how it should be. 

 

He finds Dana at the charge station and props his weight against his elbows, leaning over the countertop. “Where is everyone?” 

 

“Sick or taking care of people that are sick. This is what I get for having an immaculate immune system.” She keeps piling up the files. “We’ve got half of our bed being used for flu patients. Unbelievable how many people will just ignore their body’s needs.” 

 

Dennis decides right there that Dana is the last person he will ever tell he’s diabetic. 

 

“This is a very interesting and not at all different than any other day in this particular ER,” Samira says with a smile as she joins them. 

 

“Good phrasing. Very broad and anti-bad luck. You’re actually learning something, I’m proud of you.” Dana hands her a stack and then Dennis. “Congratulations on being promoted by the way. We’re down to just Collins to run things.” 

 

Dennis’s heart absolutely does not skip a beat. He tilts his head and tries not to look too intrigued. “What about Dr. Robby?” 

 

“Oh, Robby’s out. Jack came down with something over the weekend, and when one of them gets sick, both of them get sick.” Dana didn’t look too happy about it. “Bunch of lovesick puppies. They never learn. You wash your hands and push fluids. I can’t lose anymore people or we’re going to have to shut the damn place down.” 

 

“So this isn’t a good time to tell you Santos is out sick too?” 

 

The charge nurse stares at him. Samira clears her throat trying to hide a laugh. “Go find Collins before I do something we both dislike.”

 

He nods, biting back a smile, and sets out to find said doctor. 

 

Luck keeps him in good health. Or it’s the constant hand washing and eventual mask that he puts on. While Trinity is bed ridden for the rest of the week, he manages to keep away from the illness. Even as multiple patients come in for dehydration and extreme flu-like symptoms, he keeps away from it. 

 

And it’s great because less hands means more hands-on learning experiences for him. He’s doing things that would piss Trinity off. Samira even looks impressed, not just the fake ‘I’m pretending to care because I’m supposed to’ face. It’s the first time in a while that he hasn’t been stupidly distracted while working and he knows exactly why that is. 

 

His brain is practically giddy from the energy of it all. Looking for the patterns in lab results, matching the symptoms to their causes. Mel misses a high potassium level that he spots. Samira high fives him when he accurately diagnoses a patient that had a seizure at the mall. Mateo and him turn out to be an excellent duo when it comes to dealing with patients who have no common sense. He has to be methodical and quick and he loves it. 

 

It’s something from his days on the farm. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop the pastor always warned. That always meant his summer months were spent working, not on vacation or going to the pool. Sitting still isn’t natural to him. He needs to be moving, working, going, lest he has a second to sit and actually think. 

 

On the other hand, less people means less breaks. If he thought it was a struggle to find time to check his blood glucose or eat something or even drink water, it’s nothing compared to now. He can’t take a breath without being needed somewhere else or pulled to deal with a different patient. Lunch becomes whatever he can carry in one hand as he does rounds with Mel or Dana, trying to scarf it down in between rooms. 

 

He thinks about the scheduled visits with dermatology and wonders if he was too harsh on the speciality. 

 

It does mean he has no time to think or panic either. So while he spends his Wednesday night taking insulin shot after insulin shot because he didn’t have time to give himself one for his lunch that day and ran high all afternoon, it’s almost worth the thirst and headache and nausea. Because he doesn’t have free time, so he can’t panic, so nothing is really wrong. 

 

He’s always been really good at lying to himself. 

Luck officially runs out on Thursday when Dr. Robby finally shows back up. Dennis practically runs into him as he’s laughing at a story Victoria is recounting about her last medical mishap. 

 

He somehow looks more put together than he was pre-sickness. All smiles and bright eyes and practically glowing. He wastes no time in patting Dennis on the back in his movement towards the waiting room. That has to be a good sign, that he’s not yelling or dragging the med student away for another conversation that he does not want to have. 

 

As he puts away his belongings, he gives himself a pep talk, pretending to still listen to Victoria still, and ignoring the sheer dread he feels building up in his system. This shift will be fine. It might actually be one where he can control his blood glucose and not go home with a severe high that takes hours to treat. He slips the small bag into his scrub pockets. Surely he can slip away at a certain point to actually check his glucose levels. 

 

Dennis will not allow the return to mess up the semi-decent streak he had going. He will not. Or he would not have if Abbot didn’t slide in three hours later, while McKay went home early looking a little green and mumbling something about how children only ever take, no matter the age. 

 

Fucking flu season. 

 

So it leads to him doing everything he can to avoid the two attendings. Collins has practically glued Mel to her side in all of the flu season chaos in an attempt to keep things afloat. Samira and Victoria have teamed up in their own weird little way. Dennis is the oddball out so he just stays out of everyone’s way. He helps Perlah and Princess as they work their way through triage. Buddies up with Mateo for a particularly upset patient who seems to think that none of them can smell the liquor on his breath. He’s good at distracting himself and managing to keep a wall, literal and physical, between himself and the two doctors who look too busy for him anyway. 

 

Chaos works in his favor for the majority of the shift. It does mean he has to skip his lunch to deal with a kid who ate crayons four days ago and a woman who’s experiencing chest pains. It does mean he can’t really stop for a second to check his blood glucose or eat something or drink something. 

 

It does mean he can feel himself slipping lower and lower every passing hour. 

 

He always feels it in his arms first. They get a little heavier and harder to move. Same with his legs. Then it’s a cold, clammy sweat across his forehead. It spreads all the way down his body until he feels like he’s just gone swimming with how drenched his clothes are. Eventually, his mouth feels just a little numb. It’s difficult to talk, and when his concentration is blown, that’s when he knows he can’t avoid passing out for much longer. 

 

Somewhere between the kid with asthma who couldn’t find their inhaler in gym class to the third flu patient who hadn’t taken so much as an Advil does he realize that it’s getting to that point. 

 

Normally, he’d slip away, down some juice or fruit snacks, but there’s no time. Whenever he thinks he’s in the clear, Mel is asking for him to come help or Victoria is cornering him about something or Dr. Robby is looking or Dr. Abbot is calling for him to come take care of an issue. 

 

That seems to be the theme of this rotation. Never having a moment to breathe. 

 

Dana hands him another patient's file as he thinks he’s found a second to grab food. “A patient in twelve needs an IV with fluids. And they’re complaining of nausea, so it might be a good idea to get them some zofran with it.” 

 

Oh, good. An IV when his hands won’t stop shaking. That’s actually perfect. That’s exactly what he needed right now. 

 

He doesn’t dare say any of it outloud. Just nods and heads in the right direction. 

The patient is a thirty three year old woman named Anna who looks like she came straight from work. There’s a little bit of dried vomit on her blazer and Dennis elects to ignore it. From the look of her pinched mouth and glare she is not in the mood for anything beyond standard patient care. 

 

“Alright Ms. Patterson, can you rate your pain for me on a scale of one to ten?” 

 

“I already told the nurse, it's seven. And I still had to wait out there for over three hours. If I hadn’t picked this up from  my kids daycare, I absolutely would have picked something up now.” 

 

“Yeah. Sorry about that wait, peak flu season is hitting everyone hard.” He sits on the chair and rolls it over to the side of the bed.”But hopefully we get some fluids and meds in you, and you’re back on your feet in a few hours. That sound alright to you?” 

“Anything to get me out of here. The sooner the better. I mean, seriously, do you guys even clean this place?” She sniffs as Dennis tears open the alcohol swab and preps her arm. “I’ve never seen a hospital look so filthy.” 

 

He hums a response. There’s no making her happy, this much is clear, and he needs to spend what little energy he has on getting the IV in. He hopes she can’t tell that his hands are shaking as he pulls out the needle and tubing. “And can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten for me?” 

 

“I already told you. Seven.” She rolls her eyes. “Jesus. Please tell me you’re not sick and working. That has to be against policy.” 

 

“Oh, sorry. It’s been a long day.” He tries to laugh it off but she’ s unamused. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he starts to slide the needle into her arm, and holds back a groan when he misses her vein. He pulls it back out and tries again, but still misses. He can barely even see the blue tissue, vision fading in and out of focus, barely able to hold his hands still. 

 

“Are you done yet?” 

 

“You’re just a little dehydrated.” It’s a lie but she doesn’t need to know that. “I’m sure we’ll get it on the next try.” 

 

He doesn’t. Not that try, or the next three. 

 

Apparently that’s her limit on grace. Snags her arm back and glares at him. “I want a different nurse.” 

 

“I’m actually a med student. And I’m sorry, I’m sure I can get it-” 

 

“Absolutely not. I didn’t come in here to be poked and prodded like an animal.” She glances out at the hallway and whistles. “Hey! You, with the glasses? Come do what your employee clearly can’t.” 

 

Dennis can feel the blush coming on as Dr. Robby stops in his tracks. He steps halfway into the room, looking confused at the scene. “I’m sorry. What’s the problem here, ma’am?” 

 

“He can’t get this fucking IV in my arm. He’s going to make me bleed out at this point.” 

“Flu patient. Just having trouble finding a vein.” 

 

He tries to keep his hands still but it feels like he’s holding cinderblocks, not needles and plastic. Dr. Robby glances between him and the patient. 

 

“Can you do it?” The question is phrased politely but there’s a look of concern in his face. Brows pointed down, jaw tight. 

 

Before he can even open his mouth to say yes, the woman answers for him. “Clearly not. I mean do you see how many failed attempts he’s done? Take the needle from him before I have to get stuck again.” 

 

Dennis thinks his entire face is burning. Maybe he does have the flu and this is just a horrible hallucination. 

 

“Okay. Up, Whitaker.” 

 

He stands on shaky legs and moves out of the way. Tries not to fall over from low blood glucose or embarrassment. Both would be entirely possible. 

“I mean what kind of hospital is this? Letting medical students run around unsupervised?” 

 

“Hey, Robby, patient in six needs a-” and because the universe will not give him a fucking break this afternoon, Abbot appears from behind the curtain. He takes in the scene, doing a double glance at Dennis’s shaky, pale, sweaty appearance, then to his husband’s position next to the bed. “Everything alright?” 

 

Why did there have to be two of them?

 

“Nothing major. Just giving Whitaker some help.” 

 

Abbot tilts his head. “With an IV?” 

 

Maybe they should just open the entire floor to witness his humiliation. Forget the fact that he’s practically swaying on his feet. He can just take a public trial and leave the workplace with no dignity intact. 

 

“Yes, with an IV. I mean, do you even vet these guys before you give them a job trying to treat people?” Anne sniffs. 

Abbot just looks at her before looking over at Dennis. He purposefully avoids eye contact. Dr. Robby manages to slide the IV in within seconds. Dennis hangs the fluids and takes his time, hoping that his superior’s will clear out. 

 

They don’t. In fact, they wait for him to finish, and follow him out of the room. 

 

He hopes he can just dash off and eat something. Abbot blocks his path before he can even move a singular step towards his bag. He can practically feel Dr. Robby behind him and he’s trapped yet again. 

 

“Whitaker, I’ve seen you put in nearly a hundred IVs before. What happened?” 

 

“I just-” 

 

“Are you getting sick too? You and Santos are sharing closed spaces, and I know how those spaces can get.” 

 

“No.” His vision is getting blurrier by the second. Abbot has become two separate people in his eyesight and he shakes his head. “No, that’s not-”

 

“Then what is it? I feel like we made it perfectly clear what would happen if you came in with another hangover.” Dr. Robby looks so angry and annoyed and Dennis feels pinned down by his eyes. 

 

“I’m not.” 

 

“Not what?” 

 

“I’m not hungover. I’m not, I swear.” 

 

“Then what is it?” 

 

“I’m sorry, I just-” 

 

His mouth is numb. He can’t really feel his legs. His body is cold and clammy and he moves before it decides to just give up and pass out on the floor. He leaves the two confused doctors behind him as he heads for the break room, practically collapsing into one of the chairs. 

 

It’s a feat to even pull the small bag out of his pants leg, let alone prep the machine with a test strip. He knows better than to test on dirty hands but he really doesn’t have a choice if he wants to attempt to make it back to his lecture with the two attendings. 

 

His hands are trembling and he’s trying to just get one singular prick of his finger for a drop of blood when the door opens across from him and Abbot and Robby are both standing in the doorway. 

 

This is the stuff of nightmares. His bosses find him, sweaty and pale, attempting to hold still long enough to prick his finger and get blood. Even if they weren’t doctors it doesn’t take a physician to figure out what he’s doing and connect the pieces together. 

 

Of course it’s Abbot who takes in the scene quickest and moves towards him. 

 

“Give it,” he instructs and Dennis just lets him. He takes the lancing device from his grasp. With the steady hands of a doctor, he holds Dennis’s left hand still, selecting one finger, and pricks it for him. Robby is the one shutting the door and blocking it as Abbot fills the testing strip with the blood. There’s three blissful seconds of silence before his device is beeping and he strains his neck a little to read the numbers upside down. 

 

It’s lower than he thought it’d be, but based on the way his entire body is drenched in a cold sweat, he probably shouldn’t be too surprised. 

 

“What do you need?”

 

He points pathetically at the door. “I have juice in my bag.” 

 

“You need something now.” Abbot goes to the fridge and pulls out a random soda from it. He pulls the cap off and sits in front of him. “Drink it.” 

 

Dennis makes a face. He doesn’t really like the sugary sodas when he’s this low. He blames his Nebraska days and family who didn’t believe in sugar. And he’s always been a firm believer that if he has to deal with this, he should get to pick what he consumes to raise his glucose back up. 

 

“Dennis. Now.” 

 

He really doesn't like that tone from Abbot, so he takes it and has one sip while maintaining eye contact with him. The veteran doctor doesn’t move from his spot so he takes another. 

“Thanks. I can handle it from here.” 

“Your glucose is almost a hundred points below what it should be and you think we’re going to leave you alone?” 

 

Dennis shrugs. 

 

“How long?” Dr. Robby asks from the doorway. 

 

“How long what?” 

 

“How long has this been going on?” 

 

“The chronic illness thing? Oh, you know. It’s pretty new, only sixteen years or so. Not a big deal.” 

 

One day he’ll learn not to downplay every single sentence that comes out of his mouth. Idle hands, idle lips. Maybe his parents were onto something when they would punish him for speaking out of turn. 

 

“Does Santos know?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Does anyone? Dana, Kiara, Javadi, anyone?” 

 

“No, no, no, and nope.” He takes another swig of the drink and tries not to make a face. It’s so damn sweet for his stupidly numb mouth. 

 

“When were you planning on telling someone?” 

 

“Um. Never?” He shrugs at their bewildered expressions. The motion takes more effort than it should. “I mean, it’s not like anyone was going to find out.” 

 

“What exactly do you think is happening right now?” 

 

“A very bad dream.” He glances between the two. “A very, very bad dream.” 

 

Neither man laughs which is fine because he wasn’t actually joking. 

 

“This is why you’d get those random low points,” Abbot says with a frown. “You always got slower around eleven and three. I thought it was adrenaline but it was your glucose crashing.” 

“And it explains the snappiness with the dehydration.” Robby’s arms are crossed over his chest, fingers tapping erratically. “Dawn phenomenon in the morning and post lunch spikes. Is there a reason I never heard about this from HR?”

 

“Well yeah, because they didn’t know,” Dennis said with a ‘duh’ tone. “I didn’t tell them.” 

 

“Dennis.” He’s never heard Robby’s voice sound that low and stern. He doesn’t like it and he squirms in his seat, heat pooling in his stomach. “Have you gone through all of your rotations without this being documented somewhere?” 

 

All of his alarm bells are ringing but that doesn’t stop his mouth. “Define documented.” 

 

Yeah, they’re going to throw him out of the program for sure. Him and his stupid, idiotic tongue that he’s going to cut out of himself. What was that Bible verse? The perverse tongue? Preserved? 

 

“You cannot be-” Robby covers his face with his hands while Abbot just takes the bottle out of Dennis’s grasp. 

 

“Hey!” He tries and fails to snag the bottle back. It sits dangling in Abbot’s hands. “I wasn’t done with that!” 

 

How does he always end up so damn whiny when this couple is around

 

“You drank half. The general rule is 15 minutes before correcting more. Or did you think you were just going to walk out of here and go back to treating patients?” 

 

Dennis can feel his lip poking out in a pout and he doesn’t care how embarrassing this will be an hour from now. “I’ve done it before.” 

 

“Well that ends now.” Robby looks at him, brows furrowed and mouth turned down in a frown. “All of this ends now. Unbelievable. Do you even understand how stupid this is?” 

 

“I made it through my other rotations just fine. I’m not saying it’s the safest but-” 

“No. It’s not safe. For you or for other patients. What happens if you’re mid procedure and you get low enough that you hurt someone? Or hurt yourself?” 

 

The yelling only makes him shrink in on himself. 

Abbot notices and shoots Robby a warning look. “Relax. Now is not the time. Not when he’s still so out of it.” 

 

“If he’s that out of it he shouldn’t have been treating patients at all.” Robby leans down a little to get into Dennis’s line of sight. “You do know that, right? That this is insanely dangerous for all parties involved?” 

 

He can’t help but curl inwards, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “Nothing ever happened.” 

 

“Nothing happened yet. You’re purely fucking lucky that you didn’t pass out in the middle of a shift or give someone the wrong pain med dosage because you couldn’t think clearly. It’s a fucking miracle, Whitaker, it was just an IV and not something worse!”

 

“I’m sorry.” He looks up at Robby, blinking back tears. “I am. I’m really sorry. I know it was stupid, I know it is stupid. But I just don’t have the time to think about it on top of everything else.” 

 

Because there’s always something else. Bills, school, work, people. He’s never had a break from those things, and it’s not like his disease has an off switch. If something has to slip, it’s easiest and cheapest for it to be that. 

 

“We discussed this yesterday.” He swears Dr. Robby’s voice gets softer. He’s clearly still stressed at the situation but he looks at Dennis with the same gentleness he looks at the pediatric patients scared of needles. “You can’t be at your best when you aren’t taking care of yourself. That balance we talked about, Whitaker? That doesn’t happen if you can barely keep yourself alive in and outside of this place.” 

 

“I know.” And he does. He always does. He knows how stupid it was, how bad the fallout was going to be. He never doubted that it was going to end in turmoil. He just thought he could outrun it, push it as far as possible, and soften the inevitable crash. Not that that had worked out well for him in any other phase of life. 

 

It’s why he got caught failing a simple procedure. Something he’s been able to do for years. Getting stuck over an IV insertion because his hands couldn’t stop shaking because he wouldn’t admit that he needs to be able to pause and take care of himself. When it came down to it, he was really fucking helpless. 

Abbot sighs from above him and starts to move towards his husband. When Dennis half rises from his chair, Abbot snaps his fingers and points at him sternly, face frowning. “No. You stay right there. Don’t even think about moving yet.” 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he sits back down. 

 

When he’s satisfied that the med student won’t get back up, Abbot turns back and closes the gap between Robby and himself. Dennis idly plays with the glucose machine on the table as they converse in voices too low for him to pick up on. Not that he could make much sense of anything anyway. 

 

They talk long enough for Abbot to come back and recheck his glucose for him without even asking for permission. He makes a sound of dislike at the new reading and hands him the rest of the bottle. “Finish it. You’re not going back out there until you’re up.” 

 

Dennis frowns but still takes it. He is absolutely not elated when Abbot nods in approval, mouth still turned down,  and Robby gives him a soft smile from across the room. That does not make him feel better about this entire situation at all. 

 

By the time that he finishes the drink, he can feel the leftover chill from his cold sweat. He can finally focus on an object in its entirety and not see double. The feeling returns to his mouth. He flexes his legs once to make sure that the fuzz is gone from them too. 

 

It’s long enough for the husbands in the room. Robby is the one that steps forward this time, taking his left hand again, and pricking one of the five fingers Abbot didn’t use. Dennis decides not to point out that he is more than capable of checking this himself. 

 

Robby holds the monitor up for his husband to see. Once Abbot nods, arms still crossed against his chest, the attending sits down across from Dennis, brown eyes locked on him.

 

“Okay. We’ve come to a decision.” 

 

Dennis is so fucking fired. 

 

“This is what’s going to happen.” He points at himself and then at Abbot. “We’re your doctors now.” 

 

Dennis blinks. Looks back and forth between the two. “What?” 

 

“We’re your primary care. Off the clock, of course. If you need prescriptions or orders of something, you come see us.” 

“On the clock?” Abbot says from his spot leaning against the door. “You’re on a schedule. Normal breaks to take care of yourself. Frequent check ins, and if you’re not within a certain range, you’re not allowed to work on patients. We’ll find an excuse for you until you can be back on the floor.” 

 

“We can’t violate HIPPA and tell other people or any parties. Doctor patient confidentiality and what not.” 

 

“Can you do that?” Dennis asks, slightly overwhelmed. “Like, legally?” 

 

“Would you rather us go and tell HR and get it documented for future needs?” 

 

No. No, he would not. 

 

“Why?” They don’t react. They both just stay motionless, watching him, and he presses further. “Why? Why help me out? It’s more work than you two need. And it’s my fault in the first place.” 

 

“Because you’re an infant,” Abbot says flatly. “You haven't even graduated yet. If we can help you learn how to deal with this, maybe we can get you past this rotation without commitnig medical malpractice and fucking over your liscence before you even have it.”

 

“What he means is that you have a lot of potential and we want to make sure you learn how to use it.” Robby glares at his husband. “You could try to be a little subtle.” 

 

“You could be a little more honest about the gravity of the situation.” 

 

“You don’t have to do this.” God, Dennis doesn’t want them to feel like they have to do this. The last thing he needs is to be the charity case of a married couple. He’s survived on his own for so long that he doesn’t even know what it would look like to accept any form of help. “I can handle it on my own.” 

 

“That’s what we’re saying, kid.” Abbot shrugs. “You don’t have to.” 

 

That’s not true. That’s bullshit. It’s dog eat dog, quid pro quo. If they do this, they’ll want something in return eventually. Even if they didn’t realize it or admit to it now, they would cash in their favor at some point. Dennis knows how the world works, and generosity doesn’t exist on any levels. Not with God, not with family, and certainly not with the two men across from him. 

 

But he’s backed into a corner. Either way, someone is going to know. If he goes this route, it stays out of his official paperwork, and he can match with a good hospital after graduation without anyone ever knowing. He can secure a shitty, stable job, and have what he needs to survive. 

 

He’s so fucking close to the finish line. He’ll be done with his rotation by Christmas, and then graduation in May. If this is what it takes to finish things out, if it means the stares and touches have a small meaning now, then he can do it. He can finish this without it becoming a total fucking disaster. 

 

So he rubs his face tiredly. Smooths his hair back into place, and looks back up at the waiting doctors. 

 

“Okay,” he says simply. “Okay.”

Notes:

I know some people wanted a big dramatic reveal, but that never felt right for this story. Dennis as a character is always doing the bare minimum to stay alive, and he wouldn't get caught by passing out or something similar. It was always going to be something small and simple and wrong place at the wrong time. Plus I'm not putting him in a coma. Yet. Writing that down actually because that would be fun.

Congrats to everyone for making it to the weekend! My outline has this story at about 25 chapters in total, so prepare yourselves. I swear, the smut is coming. It's actually getting way too fucking long as a chapter. When I need inspiration I go work on it and then come back to the current chapter.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Me on Zillow: I think Pittsburgh homes are whatever I want them to be actually

How painful are honest words! But what do your arguments prove? Do you mean to correct what I say, and treat my desperate words as wind? - Job 6:25-26

 

As it turns out, having two emergency medicine doctors being your primary care doctors is an actual nightmare.  

 

They agree, quickly in the breakroom that day, that he will take fifteen minutes every two to three hours to check his glucose, and correct in whatever way he needs. He thinks it makes sense, that it seems reasonable. That’s how often he would like to check in anyway. 

 

He was fairly convinced when they agreed to this that it wouldn’t be an insane invasion of privacy. A couple of breaks, maybe some quick check-ins with the two, honestly maybe a chance to not chase a rollercoaster of glucose levels. 

 

Instead, he finds his days more interrupted than they were before. 

 

He’s trying to help Mateo with the overwhelming number of people needing lab work and triage one shift. It’s sliding right into that three hour mark when he wraps up the bloodwork for a man who had passed out at his worksite. He feels completely fine, and so he decides to just skip this once. 

 

Before he can even grab someone from the waiting room, he’s being pulled away by Dr. Robby, hand wrapped around his neck, leading him towards the stairwell. 

 

“What’s your glucose?” he asks the moment they’re alone. 

 

Dennis tilts his head. “What?” 

 

“What’s your glucose? Have you checked in the last hour?” 

 

He shakes his head. “No. Mateo’s really backed up, so I just thought I’d wait until lunch.” 

 

“Is that what you’re supposed to be doing?” 

 

He squirms just a little under Robby’s stern eye. “Well, no. But really, I feel fine.” 

 

“Take fifteen. Go check, adjust however you need, and let me know before you go back.” 

 

“But I-” 

 

“Whitaker.” Robby juts his chin towards the lockers. “Go. Now.” 

 

So he does, and mumbles his glucose level to Dr. Robby in passing before rejoining Mateo in triage. The attending gives him a quick pat on the back in response. Dennis ignores the way that his chest feels lighter with the touch. 

 

There’s another end of shift moment when Abbot finds him. Dennis knows he’s a little low, just a little out of it. He’s caught himself blinking back into focus a few times. But there’s an hour left, and he’s made it through worse. 

 

Well, he made it through worse before he had people aware of his little issue. 

 

Abbot catches sight of him as he’s heading to double check on a medication dosage and ends up grabbing a fistful of the back of his scrub top and yanking him into a mercifully empty patient room. 

 

“You’re low.” 

 

“No, I’m not.” 

 

“Yes, you are.” 

 

“I mean, maybe by like a few numbers-” 

 

“Yeah? A few? Your handwriting is shitty. Meaning you’re low enough that you can’t write properly. You keep kicking your leg too, and you’re sweating.” Abbot points his thumb towards the breakroom. “I just restocked the juices in there. Go get one, drink it, and don’t come back out until you stop shaking. Or I’ll put an IV with sugar water in you and you can move around with that.” 

 

He can’t decide who is worse. Somedays it’s Dr. Robby with his gentle prodding. Others it’s Abbot with his no-nonsense tolerance. 

 

Or maybe it’s both. Because he feels an ache in his chest and pressure at his eyes when they catch him in the act and their gazes get mean and tones get tight. He doesn’t like how the guilt only dissipates when he goes off to check on his glucose levels and they give him a sweet smile or squeeze of the arm in approval. He knows it’s bad that it’s the first time he can actually feel the guilt leaving and feel forgiveness wash him clean. 

 

All of their staring and hovering finally has a meaning that Dennis can digest, and he hates it. He hates that he can’t stutter without one of them raising a brow, he can’t be slightly mean to Trinity once she finally gets back on her feet without catching their eye, he can’t do anything without one of them looking at him like he’s trying to hide something from them. 

 

Which, yes, okay, he was hiding something from him. That’s true. 

 

However, it’s not like he was ever in serious danger of harming himself or others. He knew how to handle himself, even if it was at a level that was causing problems in the long run. Sure, he was exhausted some nights and couldn’t sleep from the nausea others. Yes, he was pretty sure the amount of insulin he had wasn’t enough for the remainder of the month. 

 

Maybe he had relaxed ever so slightly knowing that there were at least two other sets of eyes on him. But he can’t work. He can barely finish ordering meds for one patient or a procedure for another. It’s interrupting his flow and he hates it. 

 

Dennis decides to flip the tables on them. In the aftermath of a mad rush from a small fire at a retirement home that brought in multiple burn victims, he makes an obnoxiously loud sigh as he finishes his charting. He stands, and starts moving towards the lockers, hearing the scuttle and rush of the two attendings following after him. 

 

Living in the hospital for a few weeks still has its perks. Like knowing all the spots where they can go without someone even possibly interrupting them. He slips out the side, to the back hall exit where no one comes in or out because it opens up to the alleyway. 

 

Sure enough, the two are hot on his heels. He barely has time to turn around before they’re in the tight space with him, concern and alarm all over their demeanor. Robby speaks first. 

 

“What is it? Have you checked yet?” 

 

“It’s nothing.” 

 

“What was your reading?” Abbot asks, already digging into his pockets for a protein bar. 

 

“No, it’s nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. You two are causing the stress.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You both are hovering.” 

 

Robby scoffs. “No, we’re not.”

 

Dennis’s hands end up on his hips and he feels like a toddler. “I took a second too long trying to read the patient history log and you both looked at me like I was going to fall over.” 

 

“It’s almost ten.” Abbot gestures wildly. “We said you’d take a break around ten.” 

 

“Then let me get to ten before looking at me like I’m a liability.” 

 

“Start taking your breaks when we said you would and maybe we will.” Robby shrugs with a slight brow raise.

 

He rolls his eyes. Fair but cruel. “This isn’t working. We need a system. A signal, a code word, something. If you’re both watching me like this, it’s going to attract attention.” 

 

“You said you’d take coordinated breaks,” Abbot points out. 

 

“We are standing in an ER. You think I can just ask an emergency to pause or for someone to stop coding so I can go take a coordinated break?” 

 

“You could stop taking on so many patients when you know you’re getting too high or too low.” 

 

“Again, emergency room. As in something that needs to be taken care of immediately because there’s an emergency.” 

 

“Alright, alright.” Robby held up his hands in slight defeat. “You make a fair point.” 

 

Dennis takes a deep breath in the slight silence. “I know that I fucked up by not telling someone. I can admit to that. But I still kept myself going and did my job. Can’t you both just trust me to take a step back if I need to?” 

 

“No.” It’s said in unison. He debates screaming like a toddler too. 

 

“This is not working. You are fucking up my education here.” 

 

“That seems a little dramatic,” Robby scoffs. 

 

“I haven’t had one patient from check in to discharge all week. What exactly would you call that?” 

 

“Okay.” Abbot rolls his head around his neck. “This is what we’ll do. You come to our place tonight. We’ll go over your medical history, trends you’ve seen while working, and adjust from there.” 

 

White, hot panic floods across his skin. “What?” 

 

Robby tilts his head. “That’s a good plan.” 

 

“That is not a- I do not need an in depth conversation about this!” 

 

“We can discuss the best way to help you and make sure you can do your job without endangering yourself.” 

 

“He’s compromising with you.” Abbot pats his husband on the arm. “He doesn’t even do that with me.” 

 

Robby nods in confirmation.  

 

Dennis looks between the two. “I am not having a semi-medical appointment at your home.” 

 

“Would you rather we head up to endocrine right now?” Robby points up the staircase. “Schedule an appointment and have Kiara talk to you about coping mechanisms within the healthcare system as someone living with a chronic illness?” 

 

Dennis covers his face with his hands and groans. 

“Not a bad option either.” 

 

“Right? I think he likes that one more.” 

 

He picks his head up to glare at them. “Okay. Okay, fine. If it will make you two happy and get you off my back, then fine. I can come over and we can-” he waves his hand around. He tugs at his hair. “Military operation this or whatever.  

 

He hates the way that they’re both grinning at him. Like this was a competition that he never had a chance of winning and they’re all aware of it. 

 

“Great. Come over at six tomorrow. We’re all off anyway. You have any allergies?” 

 

Dennis tilts his head. “What?” 

 

“I’m not going to have you over and not make sure you eat.” 

 

Abbot scoffs at that. “He says it like he’s the one that can make anything edible. You have any dietary restrictions I need to know about?” 

 

“I can make something edible.” 

 

“Mmm, not really. Not digestible, how about that?” 

 

“That’s a more accurate diagnosis.” 

 

“I really don’t need dinner,” Dennis interrupts the couple's bantering. “This whole conversation could arguably be an email.” 

 

“Kids these days. No sense of hospitality or community.” 

 

Abbot nods in agreement, flicking his eyes up and down Dennis's frame. “Not one thought of it.” 

 

There’s not exactly a Google search that explains what one should wear to their married supervisor’s house for a dinner. Or not one where the topic of conversation is about being a walking HR violation. There are several Grey’s Anatomy fanfictions and he will officially not be finishing that show. 

 

They’ve only ever seen him in hospital issued scrubs, and that fact haunts him as he stares at his open closet. His roommate claims he owns nothing slutty. The others all agree, and he wishes he had an off day combined with some extra income to modernize his wardrobe. 

 

He settles on something casual, but still decent. A pair of jeans that aren’t stained from Nebraskan soil. A simple white t-shirt paired with a simple grey crewneck. And he absolutely does not spend fifteen minutes spinning around in the bathroom making sure he looks normal and appropriate and putting his hair into place. 

 

All of his diabetic supplies are already packed into his backpack. Normally he would just give himself a shot in his room, and deal with consequences afterward. 

 

Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure Abbot and Robby would refuse to believe him and drive him to PTMC to get the necessary supplies. 

 

Trinity is sitting at the table with a textbook in hand. She’s already prepping for boards even though she’s years away, and Dennis admires her tenacity. She doesn’t even look up as he enters the kitchen and snags his wallet and shoes. He slings his backpack around his shoulders. 

 

His hands hover over her car keys in hesitation. 

 

“Is it okay if I borrow your car tonight?” 

 

“As long as you fill it back up, sure.” She finally pulls her head out of the textbook to glance at him. “Where are you headed off to?” 

 

“Out. I’m going to be home late.” 

 

She frowns. “Late? Why?” 

 

“I have a thing. For school.” 

 

“No you don’t. You don’t have things. You have work and you have here. I don’t even think you have a guilty pleasure fast food drive -thru you frequent.” 

 

“No, because you usually pick when we go.” 

 

“That’s not true.” 

 

“I don’t even like McDonalds.”

“That’s a pathetic lie, Whitaker. I’ve seen how quickly you eat a McDouble. Wait-” she points her finger at him. “You’re distracting me. You don’t have a thing, if you had a thing for school you’d be dressed nicer. And it’s not work or it’d be scrubs.” 

 

She squints her eyes at him, looking at his shoes, his clothes, and his face. He tries to keep a neutral stance. When her eyes land on his face, it’s a dead giveaway, and he knows he’s caught.

 

“Oh my god.” She slams her hands down on the table. “Holy shit. You have a date!” 

 

“I do not.” 

 

“Yes, you do! You’re wearing pants that button and aren’t elastic, you’re in your non-work shoes, and you even look like you’ve taken time to make sure your hair isn’t a disaster. You have a date!” 

 

He just stares, trying to keep a neutral face even though he can feel his cheeks getting red. “No, I don’t. I have a thing for school.” 

 

“Oh, you’re such a bad liar, Huckleberry. It’s sad, actually.” She picks her phone up and starts typing immediately. “God, the girls are going to love this.” 

 

“The girls?” 

 

He feels the buzz of his phone and in the few seconds it takes for him to reach into his back pocket and pull it out, he’s received several more. 

 

“You told them?!” 

 

“I told them you have a school thing. Because that’s what you said this is, right?” She bats her eyelashes at him and he wonders if he should throw himself out of the window before or after dinner. 

 

His phone starts vibrating. Victoria’s attempting a group FaceTime call that he promptly ignores, so Trinity picks it up. 

 

“A date?!” the younger girl screams as soon as it connects. “With who? Do we know them? Do we work with them? You had a thing with that one nurse.” 

 

“Which nurse?” 

 

“The one whose name starts with an L? A k?” 

 

“Very descriptive, Javadi. Incredibly insightful and beneficial for this conversation.” 

 

There’s a sound as someone else joins the call. “How do you know it’s a date? Did he say that?” 

 

He groans. “Samira, I thought you were better than this!” 

 

“I’m bored and I am not better than this. Besides, Trinity didn’t send photo evidence.” 

 

Trinity flips her phone around, completely missing the point of a modern camera, and he gives a half hearted wave to the screen. Both viewers start talking rapidly, gushing over his jeans and hair and “the nurse in peds.” 

 

“There is no nurse,” he says, loudly over their chatter. “There is no date. It’s a thing for school.” 

 

“What thing? I haven’t gotten any emails about any events for tonight.” 

 

Fucking Victoria and her prodigal memory. 

 

“It’s an MS4 thing. Job fair thing.” 

 

“You’re going to a job fair in denim?” Trinity’s face is pulled down in disgust. “That screams professionalism. Maybe some farming practice will take you. If that’s the goal.” 

 

“Mel wants a picture, Trin. She’s tied up with some patients still,” Samira reports to the group. “Poor girl missing such a momentous occasion.”

 

“Yeah, and we need photo evidence of this. It could be a part of his wedding album one day.” She holds up her phone and Dennis decides he’s done being nice for this conversation. He grabs the car keys and bolts out of the kitchen.  

 

“Thanks for the car. I’ll be back later after the job fair.”

 

“I can’t wait to hear about the date!” Victoria calls across the line. “Be nice! Hold the door open for her!” 

 

“Don’t split the check and leave room for Jesus!” Trinity yells after him. 

 

He slams the apartment door shut in response. 

 

The entire car ride over he debates turning back at every red light. Faking sick and hiding in a random parking lot until Trinity would be asleep. He curses his entire farming background when he finds an open parallel spot and parks flawlessly. He shuts the engine off and peers up at the building. 

 

Brick lines the outside of the townhome, with potted greenery sitting nicely on the steps leading up to the front door. The red wood is a maroon that’s nearly black. It’s a quiet street and Dennis secretly loves the way that it’s right next to the park. It might not be like his home of rolling plains and pastures, but there’s still something familiar about it that he can’t stop himself from staring out at it as he sits idly in the car. 

 

Inhaling deeply, he tries to push the anxiety out of his chest and out into the chilly October air. There’s nothing weird about this night. Even if they were about to interrogate him over his hidden illness. He hasn’t done anything wrong by showing up when they invited him and essentially blackmailed him into it. 

 

If he squints and holds his breath it’s basically a work dinner. 

 

He’s not sure what actually gets him out of the car. He isn’t sure that he wants to know either. 

 

The streetlights flicker on as he makes his way up the steps. He tries to take another deep breath as he reaches out and knocks on the door. 

 

Within seconds, it opens and Dr. Robby is standing in front of him. He’s changed out his typical zip up hoodie for a simple green sweater and Dennis thanks his former self from an hour ago for deciding against wearing a button up shirt. 

 

“Just in time. You have no idea how cranky Jack gets when people are late.” 

 

“Don’t be shit talking me already, Michael! You haven’t even opened the wine!”

Dr. Robby rolls his eyes, reaching out and pulling Dennis inside by his upper arm. “He says that knowing he picked the bottle I didn’t want.” 

 

“You wanted white with the beef. There’s a reason I don’t let you pick the drinks, just the food.” 

 

“I swear he actually likes me. He just gets very snappy when I’m in the way in the kitchen.” 

 

“And now you’re a liar. A great doctor and a liar. That’s so unfortunate.” 

 

He’s pulled through the small entry way and past a living room with light gray navy walls. The space is dark but inviting, soft yellow light illuminating every inch of it. He’s surprised by the amount of personality he can see in it. Pictures of Robby and Jake, Robby and Abbot, Abbot and what must be his military buddies. There’s even some framed diagrams from Grey’s Anatomy that he recognizes from memory at this point. 

 

It’s nothing like Trinity’s chaos of bright colors and maximalist style. Every piece is thoughtfully put out and intentional. When he passes the framed art of a grassland with a setting sun, he swears he can almost feel the Nebraska sunshine on his face. 

 

“Welcome to our home that we rarely frequent at the same time. Opposite schedules attract or whatever they say.”

 

“It’s really nice. The townhome.” 

 

“You’re very kind. We have a maid that comes by once a week because it’s a goddamn disaster most of the time.” Robby’s voice drops. “You would think Jack would have military grade cleanliness, but it's actually a bit of propaganda.” 

“Robinavitch, I swear to God, I will make you sleep on the couch tonight.” 

 

They enter the kitchen and Abbot’s back is turned to them. He’s working on something Dennis can’t see but can smell and his mouth almost immediately starts watering. He hasn’t had real, true steak since home and he thinks he might die from the first bite he gets. 

 

“How do you like yours cooked, Dennis?” 

 

“Oh, anything is fine, Dr. Abbot.” 

 

“No reason for formalities here, kid. Jack is fine.” 

 

Yeah, he will not be doing that. 

 

“I’ll be wrapping up in about ten minutes. I took the liberty of putting aside the carb count for you. I think it’s about twenty for the potatoes, nine for the green beans, and fifteen for the side salad.” 

 

Dennis can’t remember the last time someone counted up his carbs for him. 

 

“Yeah, okay. I can just use your restroom to get everything-” 

 

“We’re doctors, Dennis. A little blood and needles won’t bother us.” Robby nods at the kitchen table. “Do whatever you need to do.” 

 

He’s aware of their watchful eyes as he sets his bag down and pulls out his supplies. Goes and washes his hands next to Abbot- Jack- and wipes his hands dry. He pricks his finger and slides the blood into the testing strip under Robby’s watchful gaze. Something in him makes him hold the small machine up to show both men his glucose levels. 

 

“In range. Way to go.” 

 

The praise will not go to his head. He will not let it warm his chest and fill him up. 

 

Instead, he just pulls out the small vial and a needle. Does the mental math and pulls the right amount of insulin out. He’s debating where to stick himself when- 

“I can do it.” 

 

Dennis almost drops the needle. Robby pulls it from his hands without any difficulty and he has to swallow thickly before replying. “You already do this all day. I can do it myself.” 

 

“You do it yourself every day. You have two people who know how to administer a shot here now. Just let me do it.” 

 

He shouldn’t because for some odd reason he can feel his skin getting white hot. 

 

“Where do you prefer it?” 

 

  In his ass. Literally. He preferred the fat of his ass to anything else because his job required him to be on his feet so he never had to feel the residual sting later on. But he can’t say that because it’s insane and not how you respond to your boss. 

 

“Arm is fine,” he mumbles, pushing up the sleeve of his crewneck. 

 

“You take the wine into account? That naturally lowers you.” 

 

Dennis should not be getting turned on by this. It’s basic medical knowledge, not foreplay. “Yeah. I know. I lowered the dosage." 

 

“How much?” Abbot asks from his position at the stove. “You don’t want to overdo it and regret it later.” 

 

Fuck these older, attractive, intelligent men. “By about five units.” 

 

Jack nods his approval and Robby hums in agreement. “That should be good. You run lower at night anyway.” 

 

They should not know that and he knows it. He holds back a shiver when Robby swipes the alcohol swab over his skin to clean it. He looks over the edge of his glasses as he waves his arm to dry it faster, and takes the needle cap off with his teeth. “Ready?” 

 

Dennis just nods, lump in his throat. 

 

“Alright, nice and easy.” He pinches the fat of Dennis’s arm, sliding the needle in so smoothly that he doesn’t even feel it. The insulin gets pushed in with the ease of a practiced doctor. Robby waits a few seconds, then pulls the needle back out, looking up at Dennis once it’s done. “All good?” 

 

Dennis nods. He feels light headed from the blood rush. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

 

“Not a problem. I’m sure you get sick of doing it on your own anyway. If you ever want someone else to do it, just let one of us know.” 

 

“Sure.” He will not be doing that. He cannot do that or pretend that it isn’t one of the kindest things he’s ever been offered. “I appreciate it.” 

 

“Anytime.” 

 

“Michael, come get these things out of my way. Dennis, just take a seat and I’ll get you a glass.” 

 

He can’t remember the last time someone made dinner for him. He loved being in the kitchen because, as Mel had declared, feeding people was his love language. But to have someone else create a dinner for him…

 

It was nice. 

 

It’s impressive how easily the conversation flows over the food. It’s not the same as talking to Trinity or any of the Walking Hazards, but that’s not a bad thing. He likes hearing about their take on certain patients, and the research articles they keep up with and read. And he likes how when the conversation shifts from work to recent books they’ve been reading, Dennis can actually keep up. Harry Potter was exclusively banned in his hometown, but when Jack mentions he had been debating rereading some classic American novels, Dennis can actually provide input. 

 

He’s not technically behind. He’s actually young and by their judgement, more in tune with the modern world than they are. It’s some insane, twisted moment where he doesn’t feel out of place for once. For the first time in a long time, actually. 

 

“Wait, you’re telling me the kids don’t read Faulkner anymore?” 

 

Dennis bites back a laugh at the shock on Abbot’s - Jack’s - face. “No. I only read it for a college English course.” 

 

“That’s ridiculous. He's an American hero.” 

 

“He’s old and outdated. Most kids just use different websites to get a summary of novels anyway.” 

 

Robby does laugh at that while Jack just scoffs. “Unbelivable.” 

 

“Oh, come on. We graduated high school before they even had computers in the library. I remember writing most of my papers in med school by hand.” 

 

Dennis does laugh at that. “Actually, all students have their own personal computer at most schools.” 

 

“Now that is actually unbelievable.” 

 

They move from the dining room to the living room at some point. Jack carries the wine bottle with them and even though Dennis is careful not to drink too much, his glass is always full. 

His eyes catch on the painting of the grassland as he settles onto the couch. “Where did you guys even find that?” 

 

Robby follows his eyeline to the artwork. “That? Not sure actually. I think it was on one of our rare off days together.” 

 

“If you can name the artists you can have it.” 

 

Dennis laughs. “No, thanks, but I barely passed my art history class in college. It just looks like the area I grew up in. I was surprised to see it earlier. Doesn’t seem like something artists in Pittsburgh would create.” 

 

“Couldn’t tell you.” Abbot sits down on one of the chairs across from him. “I had heard the farmboy rumblings but wasn’t sure if they were true.” 

 

Fucking Trinity and Victoria. 

 

“Yeah. All true. My parents had cattle and crops. I could tag a calf before I could read.” 

 

“Wait, so are you a cowboy hat and rodeo level of country?” Robby asked with a grin on his face. 

 

“The cowboy hat thing, no. And no rodeoing. Just because I can ride a horse does not mean I can compete.” 

 

“I’m sure you’d hold up better than the two of us.” Jack nods at his husband. “Robby especially.” 

 

Dennis will not think about the two of them on a horse, using their thighs and strong voices to order a horse around. He will not imagine them in denim and flannel and sweat and dirt. 

 

“My brothers were the competitive ones,” he says, because nothing kills a hard on quite like family. “I really preferred the cattle and sheep.” 

 

“Have you been back recently?” Robby asks. 

 

“No.” 

 

If he answers too quickly or too sharply they don’t show it.

“But they were the ones who were there when you were diagnosed. So they knew.” Jack’s not asking, so Dennis just nods. 

 

“How exactly have you managed to keep this a secret for so long?” 

 

Dennis breathes out a laugh. “I honestly have no idea. Sheer willpower at this point.” 

 

“How do none of your friends know?” Robby questions. “Santos, Javadi - I swear you five spend every waking moment together sometimes. There’s no way they haven’t caught on.” 

 

“Well, we aren’t really friends. Coworkers, sure, and we hang out sometimes. But it’s not like we’re sitting around trading secrets or anything.” 

 

Except when Victoria had admitted she wished her relationship with her mom was anything beyond a teacher and student one. Or when Samira told them about her dad. Or when Mel told them anything about her family. 

 

“This isn’t a normal secret, though. This is a life-long illness. How has Santos not found anything at your apartment?” 

 

“She doesn’t exactly do any of the cleaning or cooking or anything. She’s also busy with her internship and other stuff. And I keep most of it in my room and you know. Just dispose of the used needles at work.” 

 

“And how did no one notice that?” Jack asks, refilling his wine. 

 

He shrugs again, and takes a sip of his own glass before answering. “Not to brag, or anything, but no one noticed for almost two years. I don’t even think my professors at school knew. I’m good at finding patterns. When Dana takes her smoke break or when everyone else is doing mid morning rounds I can slide upstairs to the third floor bathroom and dispose of them there.” 

 

“Well, it’s smart of you to avoid Dana’s eyes. She’s going to be pissed when she finds out.” 

 

The thought of that conversation makes him visibly pale. “You’re not going to-” 

 

“Relax, Dennis,” Jack says. His voice is calm.“We won’t be telling anyone without your permission. Although you do need to disclose this on your internship applications.” 

He shakes his head vigorously. “No. After I sign contracts, sure, but no one is going to take me if they know about this. I have to wait until they can’t back out.” 

 

“This isn’t some weird habit or something, kid,” Robby says. “This is just something you deal with. It’s quite literally illegal for them to not pick you because of it.” 

 

“I mean, technically, sure, but there are enough issues with me anyway. I don’t need to give anyone another reason to reject me.” 

 

It sounds depressing to say outloud, but it’s true. 

 

“Do you at least have an endocrine specialist you see?” Jack rubs his head for a second. “I know that there’s at least three or four on contract upstairs.”

 

Dennis becomes very interested in the corner of the rug. “Not necessarily.” 

 

“An actual primary care?” Robby tries. 

 

“Not one I could point to.” 

 

“When’s the last time you had a proper check up?”

 

“Um. High school?” 

 

“High school?” Jack looks appalled. 

 

“I mean.” He scratches his arm absentmindedly, trying to think. “Beyond the flu shots they give out each year on campus? Or the quick virtual visits to get refills on prescriptions? Yeah. High school or freshman year of college.” 

 

“You do know that there are free clinics all around Pittsburgh?” 

 

“Yeah, I know. I couldn’t find the time to go. I mean, do you know how long those lines get? It can be worse than the Pitt. Besides, nothing major ever came up.”

“Besides the chronic illness.” Robby shrugs. “That small detail.”

 

“Well, yeah, I mean, there is that, I guess.” 

 

Leave it to the doctors to point out the obvious.

 

Jack takes another sip of his wine. “Okay. Tomorrow? You come in early. I’ll take your labs and we can see what we’re working with.” 

 

“I don’t need lab work. We know what’s wrong with me.” 

 

“Can you tell me what your last A1C was? Kidney functions? Lipid panel?” 

 

Dennis doesn’t reply. 

 

Jack nods in response. “Exactly. Part of this-” he points between the three of them. “-is checking in on that stuff. If you’re not going to do it, we will.” 

 

“It’s not that I’m not going to,” he protests. “I just don’t have time to.” 

 

“You don’t have time to take care of yourself?” Robby finally speaks up. He’s been watching Dennis twitch anxiously every few minutes, expression neutral. “You think you have time when you’re in your internship? Or residency? Or maybe as a fellow, when you’re working on research every time you’re not on the clock?” 

 

It’s a valid point. If it wasn’t one thing, it would be the other. The point he can’t bring up is that, even as an intern, would put him in the range of affording copays and deductibles for the equipment that would work while he was, not making him pause and take injections. 

 

“I can figure it out when I get there.” 

 

“If you’re even alive.” 

 

Dennis and Robby both shoot a dirty look at Jack, who just shrugs with his hands up, palms facing the ceiling. “What? You tell me that if Michael hadn’t stepped in yesterday you would’ve passed out within minutes.” 

 

An arbitrary point. 

 

“We’re not trying to police you. We’re trying to help you. We want you to graduate and go on to your career without having to do a day by day, hour by hour fight to keep yourself healthy.” Robby’s voice is warm and smooth like honey. It fills him with a heat that burns. “We just want to take care of you. Help you. Because it kind of seems like you don’t know how to take care of yourself.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

It’s the million dollar question, the one he’s been asking for years. 

 

Why, God, give him the disease in the first place? Why did this have to be his punishment for finding joy in His creation? If the love and admiration he felt in his heart for the men he looked at, especially the ones he was looking at now, was so sinful, why was he ever given them in the first place? A God ordained world, molding each of His children from clay, and He made Dennis like this. Why did Dennis have to take the brunt of the choices His Creator made? 

 

“We find a certain joy in cases like this. Helping those who won’t help themselves. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

 

“And why do we even need to have a reason?” Jack asks. “Sometimes people just want to help. You deserve to have some help, sweetheart, just for the sake of having it.” 

 

Dennis’s cheeks burn. He pretends not to hear the term of endearment. It had to be a mishap. “Well. I guess I appreciate it. I just feel bad that I can’t really give anything in return.” 

 

“Who said we want anything in return?” 

 

He shrugs. “People usually do. I think that’s how the world works.” 

 

“You’re in the wrong career if that’s what you think,” Jack says with a smirk of a smile. 

 

“No, that’s what I’m in this career field. Even if my head didn’t work the way that it does. I wanted to find answers in medicine. I thought maybe if I gave enough to it, it would give something back to me. I don’t expect anything from the patients. I think this rotation has shown me that I’ll be lucky to get a thanks after saving someone’s life.” 

 

“It is a very thankless job.” Jack taps his glass to his husband who keeps his eyes focused on the med student.

 

“Answers about what?” Leave it to the one who he caught reciting prayers in peds to ask that question. 

 

“Oh. Well.” Dennis thumbs the stem of his wine glass. “It’s not exactly like there’s a rhyme or reason for the… you know. But when I was first diagnosed, in a rural farmtown? Everyone thought it was a mark of the devil.” 

 

Robby chokes on his wine. “Well that’s not at all outdated.” 

 

Dennis hides a grin behind his glass. 

 

“People actually thought that? Even overseas that type of stuff is treated like a real issue.” Jack leans back into the chair, rubbing his prosthetic absentmindedly. Dennis almost wants to tell him he can take it off, that one disabled person to another, he doesn’t mind it. 

 

“There are still some small town parts of America that think like that. I’m not saying I agree with it, or anything, but…yeah. Our pastor told my parents that they must’ve committed some heinous sin that led to it. 

 

“And kids. I think the last kid that was mad at you only bit you. Drew blood on Garcia though,” Robby chuckles.

 

That had been a very rough shift. 

 

“I’m the youngest of five. And by the time I left for college they were nearing the double digits for grandchildren. You’d be surprised how similar farm animals and children are.” 

 

“I’ve always said that.” 

 

“Youngest of five?” Jack shakes his head. “Jesus. Sounds like a nightmare.” 

 

“It was and it wasn’t. Had its ups and downs.” 

 

“You still keep in touch?” Leave it to Robby to ask that question. 

 

“No. No, I, uh, haven’t been home in a few years. My brothers are all busy with the farm and the kids.” 

 

“Just brothers?” 

 

 “I have a sister.” He thinks about Sarah and Christmas ribbon and car rides. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen her though.” 

 

Mercifully, the two sense the mournfulness of his voice and change the subject. 

 

They ask about Dennis’s time in college, after he left home. He walks them through his struggles with the blood glucose levels and insulin shots, tells them about the time he nearly passed out in a lab because he couldn’t pause his dissection to eat something. He tells them about his time as a resident advisor, about the stories he has there. 

 

And they just listen. Ask questions when appropriate, laugh when needed, and he doesn’t feel like he’s sitting with his two bosses after a while. 

 

He doesn’t even realize how late it is until he gets a text from Trinity, (I’m locking the door and turning the lights off so if you bring someone home, don’t trip before you have premarital relations), and actually sees the time. 

 

“I should go.” He feels embarrassed at just how long he’s been sitting in their home. “Especially since we’re all back at work tomorrow. And I have to fill up Trinity’s car for her.”

 

“Are you sure you can drive?” 

 

He laughs even though it’s a completely valid question with his track record. “Yes, I can drive. It was two drinks, Jack. I do have a decent tolerance despite what rumors might be saying.” 

 

The name rolls off of his tongue too easily. Like it’s something he’s said a hundred times, and not some weird line that he’s only crossed this evening. And he can’t exactly understand the face that Jack makes when he says his name. It seems like a mixture of hunger and eagerness and Dennis doesn’t have the ability to decipher it. 

 

All those years tearing apart Bible verses and cadavers and he still can’t tell what a single person is trying to communicate to him. 

 

For some reason, they both walk him to the front door. Robby gets his bag for him and it’s a little heavier than it was when he arrived. “Put some leftovers in there. We rarely eat at the same time so it’s better off with you.” 

 

“Oh. Thanks, that’s…thank you.” 

 

It’s too warm in the room and they’re both too close. He’s reminded of the stairwell, and is again acutely aware of the fact that while they don’t necessarily tower over him, they’re still bigger than him. He thinks about the runt in a puppy pile and how no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t win against his siblings. 

Robby has the audacity to pull him in for a hug, hand firmly patting his back, and yeah, he’s engulfed by the older man. “We’re glad you came.” 

 

His chest is tight. “Oh. Yeah, me too. It was really nice. Thanks for helping with…the everything, I guess.” 

 

“Text us when you get home, yeah?” 

 

“Mhm.” At Jack’s perked brow he corrects himself. “Yes, sir. Yeah, of course.” 

 

“That’s a good boy.” 

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

 

He has to get out of here. He squeaks out a “Haveanicenightseeyoutomorrow,” slipping out of their weird entrapment, and practically sprinting out the door. He barely avoids falling flat out on his face going down the stairs. He doesn’t look back as he goes back to the car, unlocking it swiftly, and collapsing into the front seat. His heart hammering in his chest, he refuses to let himself look at the townhome as he fumbles to start the engine and drives away from the quiet street.

 

That night, Dennis comes three times in his hands, shaky, out of breath, near tears, and it still isn’t enough.

Notes:

Seriously who the fuck designed that city.

Anyway....yeah. Hope you're liking it, I feel like these are garbage and I hate them for no reason. But aiming for ch. 9 to be out Thursday !

Chapter 9

Notes:

For the sake of MYSELF, I imagine ch. 4-9 happening throughout end of S1 and into October. Chapter 11 will be a Halloween one, even though it'll be two weeks late.

Do with that information what you will.

The eye that now sees me will see me no longer; you will look for me, but I will be no more. - Job 7:8

The issue, Dennis decides, is that he allows himself to have a reaction. 

 

If he would actually keep his cool, he wouldn’t have this issue of being completely useless and a total idiot. Instead, he gets all flustered and mumbly and enjoys the rush he gets from their attention. 

 

Maybe they feed off of it. They find his awkwardness and embarrassment and red faces enjoyable. If they get a kick out of humiliating him, he just needs to stop giving them the satisfaction of it. But if he’s wrong and they’re doing it for other reasons…

 

No. No, he will not allow his mind to go there. For starters, they don’t even know that he’s gay. That’s a real issue. For another, they’re married, and of the generation where having threesomes or polycules is akin to being a member of a freak show. They’re a normal gay couple, and probably have a healthier marriage than he’s ever seen. 

 

And they’re doctors. They’re following their oath by helping him do no harm to himself. They’re not trying to get into his pants or become a HR powerpoint presentation. They’re just….doing their job. As his bosses. 

 

As a result, he formulates a halfway decent plan. Early the next morning as he’s halfheartedly listening to Trinity’s rant on the way to PTMC, that he will just stop reacting. He will do everything he can to remain normal and impassive in order to not buy into the emotional nonsense. It’s what’s best for him. 

 

The entirety of his shift, he manages to slide just out of the way of Dr. Robby. He happily tags along with Samira in order to avoid the attending. If he hears the deep voice, he moves to another corner of the Pitt. When Robby is nearby, or pats his back, or maintains eye contact as he’s discussing a patient with someone else while Dennis is busy doing other work, he just takes a deep breath and imagines the white rush sliding down his body and into an invisible drain. 

 

Out of sight, out of mind. 

 

It helps that it’s emergency medicine and someone is always dying or near dying. There’s always a case someone needs a consult on. A family who’s always a little bit too pissed off. Robby might still find the time to watch Dennis stitch together a cut from a fender bender. But he can’t hold his gaze for long with his attention and expertise needed elsewhere. 

 

Mateo catches him hiding once when he slides into a room where the nurse is switching out the bedsheets. Robby had been coming down the hall and Dennis had chosen the closest option to disappear. He hadn’t anticipated that option being slightly occupied. 

 

They stare at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to speak. 

 

“Is it a girl?”  

 

Dennis shakes his head with a small laugh or maybe a groan. “Worse.” 

 

“Fair enough, man. You mind giving me a hand? You can even come with me to do chairs if that’ll hide you better.” 

 

He really, really likes Mateo more and more every shift. 

 

Jack arrives early, as promised. He stops to chat with his husband while Dennis works on a pregnant patient with severe chest pains. Even though he’s completely focused, he can feel their eyes on him, and practically hears them murmur his name. Sure enough, when he glances up, they’re both watching him with an expression he can’t quite figure out. 

 

The yank on his scrub top a few minutes later isn’t surprising by any means. It’s gotten to the point where he just becomes an extended part of whoever’s holding onto him. His natural instincts fade away and that is exactly why he needs to put a lid on all of this. So he shakes off the arm by pretending to need to scratch at his back. 

 

“Got a minute?” 

 

“Well, I’ve got to go check on a patient in thirteen and get someone to sign some discharge papers…” he looks back at the doctor who’s watching him with a raised brow. “You’re not really asking, are you?” 

 

“Not in the slightest.” 

 

 Jack leads him upstairs to an open room in the phlebotomy center. 

 

Dennis absentmindedly bounces his leg as the doctor preps the tube and needle. He isn’t scared of labwork, and he’s not going to pass out or anything, but what kind of psychopathy enjoys getting blood drawn? He regularly avoids donation centers, not that they’d take his blood anyway, but because of the idea of the needle in his arm and the feeling of something that’s supposed to stay inside of him coming out…

 

Okay, fine, he’s a little afraid of it. 

 

Jack eyes his moving leg. “You want any numbing cream?” 

 

Dennis shakes his head. “No, I’ll be fine.” 

 

“You sure?” 

 

“I’m sure.” 

 

“Brave.” The older doctor slips the rubber tie around his bicep. “I have to douse Michael in it. It’s actually ridiculous how much of a wimp he is.” 

 

Dennis’s leg keeps bouncing. “I just don’t like the waiting. I know what’s going to happen and I’d rather just get it over with. Numbing cream just slows down the process.” 

 

Jack just hums as he wipes down the skin. “I’ll be gentle.” 

 

“Famous last words,” Dennis mumbles. 

 

“Relax, kid. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. Hey, you ever hear about the first time I read a blood test?” 

 

“Um.” Why the fuck would he? “No?” 

 

“Couldn’t do it. It was full of Type-Os.” 

 

Dennis just stares at him. “And you want me to let you put a needle in my arm?” 

 

“Come on, that always gets a laugh!” 

 

“From who? Toddlers?” 

 

“You know, one day that smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” 

 

Dennis sure fucking hopes so. 

 

“I just wanted to tell you a plasma-rising story.” 

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Mesmorising? Plasma-rising?” Jack looks a little too proud of himself.

 

He makes a face. “I don’t get it.” 

 

“Yes you do.” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

“I can’t believe I’m wasting my best work on you.” 

 

“I can’t believe your best work hurts more than the needle.” 

 

“What needle?” 

 

Dennis rolls his eyes, but when he looks down, there’s only Jack pressing a cotton ball on his skin. He snaps his head back up and Jack has a shit eating grin on his face. The older man winks before grabbing a roll of gauze. “Told you I’d be gentle.” 

 

He wraps the small area of skin tightly. Dennis pretends he is not affected by the way that Jack’s hands are firmly holding one of his arms into place and moving a piece of gauze around him. 

 

“I’ll put a rush on the labs. Robby can go over them with you by the time you clock out most likely.” 

 

He holds Dennis’s arm between his hands, and looks up at him. His thumbs gently rub against the edge of the bandaged spot. Dennis refuses to squirm at the heat he can see behind his gaze. 

 

“Good job, sweetheart. You did well.” 

 

Dennis forces himself to pull his arm away, heart pounding in his chest. He hops down, and blinks away the immediate black spots in his vision. 

“Shit.” 

 

Jack’s hands are there immediately, holding him upright. “Easy. You probably need to eat something before you go back down there.” 

 

“Yeah. I think I have some-” 

 

There's a small pack of Goldfish in front of him before he can get the thought out. Jack shrugs. “Figured you didn’t bring anything with you. Sit back down. Eat it, and I’ll run these over to the lab. Robby said there wasn’t any reason to go back to work. I better not see you down there doing anything crazy.” 

 

“I’ll just- okay. Sure.” He sinks back down into the chair with the snack and sighs. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot.” 

 

“What’d I tell you about that? No reason for it when it’s just us.” He winks at the med student and reaches up to push one of his unruly curls back into place. 

 

Dennis spends the remainder of his shift hidden in the small room thinking of all the ways he does not care that Jack was so gentle with him. He also debates scheduling a haircut sooner rather than later. 

 

He gets the text in the car while Trinity is on the phone with Victoria, who had finished her fourth horrible shift in a row. 

 

Dr. Robby: Got your lab results already 

Dr. Robby: Jack says you handled the bloodwork like a pro. Proud of you. 

 

Instead of getting red and warm, he pinches his leg. Shakes off the rush before it can get to his head. He decidedly only responds with a Thanks. Go over them in the morning? 

 

Avoiding Trinity is too easy. She doesn’t even bat an eye when he tells her before bed that he’ll be heading in early. He takes the bus and is in the Pitt before Dana’s even arrived. He finds Dr. Robby at the charge station, looking through a few files with D. Ellis. 

 

Instead of bothering them, he goes and puts his things away at the lockers, and runs into Perlah, who looks frazzled. 

 

“What are you doing here so early?” 

 

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d burn the energy here,” he lies. “What’s going on down here?” 

 

“They forgot to restock the bed linens,” she tells him with a huff. “They told me that I could run upstairs and get more from the supply closet on floor five, but I have a kid with a high fever in twelve that I need to check on.” 

 

“I can go get the linens. Unless you want me to look at the kid?” 

 

“No, if you can go, that’d be great. Do you know where you’re going?” 

 

He shrugs with a sheepish smile. “No. But I’ll find it. Probably best that you’re down here over me anyway. You and your expertise.” 

 

The nurse just laughs as he heads towards the stairwell. 

 

He has an idea of where to go. He’d stolen a few extra blankets from the supply closets throughout his rotations because it got really cold on the eighth floor at night. They’re all located in the same area of each floor. 

 

Sure enough, right in the corner of floor five, near the emergency exit, he finds the closet Perlah mentioned. It’s mercifully unlocked so he heads right in to start looking. 

 

He rummages through the metal racks, passing medical tools, gowns, and cleaning supplies. Against the back wall is an entire shelf lined with the aforementioned sheets and pillowcases. He starts to pull a few out, carefully balancing them in his arms. There’s some at the very top that he just can’t quite reach. 

 

A hand appears and he yelps. He nearly drops all of the linens. Robby is reaching over him for the bleached white sheets, and holds them out in front of with ease. Dennis’s heart is racing, slight panic flooding his veins. 

“Did you follow me up here?” 

 

“You didn’t wait for me to finish with Ellis, so yes.” 

 

“You and your husband have no sense of boundaries.” 

 

Robby just laughs. “I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll be delighted.” 

 

Dennis does not want to be a topic of conversation between a married couple. Dennis does not want to be in this enclosed space with one of said married couple, so he takes the offering of linens. He nods at the papers in Dr. Robby’s grasp. “That mine?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I haven’t taken a look yet.” 

 

They stand in the tiny enclosed space for a few minutes as Dr. Robby flips through the labwork. Dennis tries to find any place to look beyond the pushed up sleeves of the other man, or the way that his face looks when he’s concentrated. He opts to burn his retinas out by staring at the fluorescent light. 

 

“Alright. Your cholesterol is fine, your triglycerides are normal. Liver function is fine.” Robby frowns and tilts his head. “Your MCV is really low. Do you ever get light headed when you stand? General fatigue from day to day activities? Wounds struggle to close?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“To which?” 

“Um. All of the above, I guess.” 

 

Robby drops the papers out of his line of sight, slapping them against his leg, staring down at the med student. “You’re anemic.” 

 

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“You’re anemic, Dennis. That’s not exactly good.” 

 

“Can’t that just be fixed with an iron supplement? Or I can just eat more red meat.” He shrugs. “In comparison, I think this is some of the best medical results I’ve ever received.”

 

“Your carelessness for your own body knows no bounds.” 

 

“Thank you? I think?” 

 

“Not a compliment, honey.” 

 

Dennis does not blush. He burns. 

 

They put him on an iron and magnesium supplement with strict orders to not skip a pill. He hates it and takes them every single morning. 

 

He gets thrown into a text chain with both of them somehow. He didn’t think old people even knew how to do that. They’ll text him about his supplements, making sure he’s taking it, making sure he’s taking it with food. 

 

It’s irritating. He’s already getting cornered at work every few minutes, and now he can’t even hide away in the safety of his cell phone. They’re everywhere he turns or looks or goes. 

 

By the end of week, he gets another invite to dinner. This time he tells Trinity it’s a gathering with MS4s. She rolls her eyes and he finds a list of best date spots in Pittsburgh on his bed before he goes to bed that night. It’s sitting beneath a box of condoms. 

 

He throws the list away but hides the condoms in his closet. 

 

This time, he doesn’t even have a chance to knock at the door before Robby is there and ushering him inside. Jack’s again at the stove, making something that has Dennis’s mouth watering. 

 

“Thirty for the pasta, twenty for the sauce, and I’d say about fifteen for the dressing,” he says in greeting. “I caved and let Michael get the white wine out.” 

 

Dennis laughs at the face that Robby makes. The older man is already pulling out his insulin bottle and needle without prompting. “You want it in the arm again?” 

 

The arm is better than anything else, so Dennis just nods. He checks his blood glucose to add into the calculation, unsurprised to see he’s running a little lower. He hadn’t had time to eat anything since lunch. 

 

It obviously bothers Robby, who looks at the reading to Dennis’s impassive expression. “No afternoon break?” 

 

“Not enough time with the whole bike accident thing.” 

 

Jack scoffs as he moves the dish around the pan. “I heard about that. Unbelievable.” 

 

They talk about the not so stellar day in the Pitt, the patients that they’d dealt with. It’s safe conversation, work related and professional. Until it flows into what Dennis has left rotation wise, his previous rotations, and his current preferences. 

 

“It’ll be match day before you know it. Once you narrow down what area you want to go into, you’ll be able to better decide on your rankings.” Robby gets him a glass from the cabinet. “Have you thought about what your top ones will be?” 

 

“No. I just know that dermatology is going on the bottom.” 

 

“Seriously? That’s your last resort?” 

 

“Once you cut off the dead, fungal infected skin of a cow’s ass, the skin becomes a horrifying organ.” 

 

“And to think I thought about making steak,” Jack mumbles. Dennis hides his smile behind a cough. He does not enjoy saying things that catch them off guard or make them ask prodding questions. He will not be happy that he made them both laugh. He steers the conversation back to something at work, and tries to avoid any more personal anecdotes. 

 

Once they’ve finished eating, they move into the living room, and Robby pulls out his labwork once more. There’s more lines and circles on it in two different colors of ink. They must have traded it off at some point to compare notes. \

 

Because it’s clinical, he reminds himself. Nothing more. 

 

“Your A1C isn’t terrible. It’s 7.4, so we can get it down.”  Robby says, handing him a paper with his HbA1c on it. 

 

“Because an A1C is what?” Jack prompts as he enters the room. 

 

“Average blood glucose levels based on the red blood cells with hemoglobin proteins.” 

 

“Good. Nice to see that the med schools are still teaching basic medical knowledge.” 

 

“Is this about Victoria’s incident with the stroke symptoms earlier this week?” 

 

“Yes, yes it is. She should know better.” 

 

Victoria had actually come over and cried herself hoarse over that incident. She knew better, and she knew that she knew better. But like most of the younger crowd in the Pitt, she was tired, running on fumes, and got pulled into another issue before she had time to finish properly analyzing her first patient. 

 

Thankfully, Samira had been close by to administer the necessary drugs to stop the clot. She’d tried to keep in between herself, Victoria, and Collins, but Jack had just finished with Dennis’s bloodwork and had overheard. Dennis hadn’t seen the dressing down she had gotten from Robby, but he’d seen the aftermath. Coupled with the fact that her mom had broken their weird silent treatment to also call and fuss at her…

 

She had slept on their couch that night and Dennis had held her hair while she threw up. 

 

“Alright. So you’ve got the mid morning low, the post lunch spike, and the end of shift drop,” Robby redirects. “I think we can look at lowering your slow acting insulin, and upping your fast acting.” 

 

“Sure. One small issue with that. I don’t have slow-acting insulin.” 

 

The two doctors look at each other before looking back at him. He tips his wine glass back to avoid their gazes. 

 

“Again, are they just not teaching common medical knowledge at the schools anymore?”

 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get insurance approval for one type of insulin? Let alone two?” He shakes his head. “I could barely get them to cover their portion of one. I don’t have time to sit on the phone for hours to discuss with a low level employee why a doctor might be correct over their company policy.” 

 

“You have to be on it. Those post-lunch spikes you’re getting can’t be corrected with just the fast acting.” Robby rubs his knee absentmindedly. “I think we can write a prescription and send it through with a Prior Authorization to make it work.” 

 

“They still might not approve it. You both work in emergency med, you know how difficult these companies can be.” 

“We’re putting you on the lantus, Dennis,” Jack says firmly. There’s no room for argument or naysaying in his tone. “You’ll need to start at a low basal rate. Can you tell me how we calculate that?” 

 

He rattles off the talk about body weight and glucose trends. “So mine should be, what? Eleven? Twelve?” 

 

“Very good.” 

 

Dennis flattens the flutter in his chest with a large sip of wine. 

 

They sit and calculate the amount he needs, debate when he should take it, how he’ll react. Then they go over his reaction to his supplements. Robby is agitatingly smug when Dennis admits that he feels more awake and alert with the changes. 

 

“Next time, we’ll look at how the lantus is impacting you. Dial back or get more. You’ll need another round of labwork done in about four months too.” 

 

Dennis does not get hung up on the next time. 

 

“For now, if you don’t want us to hover, we need you to show us you need a pause without saying it.” 

 

“What, like a handshake?” 

 

Jack laughs. “Something a little more discrete.” 

 

He brushes the stay curl that seems determined to keep sticking to the side of his forehead out of the way. 

 

“Yeah, like that.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

“That.” Robby repeats and mimics his motion. “The hair thing.” 

 

“I was literally just pushing it back into place. Trinity told me I needed to grow it out but it’s really starting to piss me off.” 

 

“I think it looks good.” Jack’s eyes scan over his face, then down his body. “Suits you.” 

 

“Either way. It’s subdued enough that no one will realize it.” 

Dennis does it again, just to see, and Robby’s right. The motion feels and appears natural. The attending nods in confirmation. “Okay. So when you need a pause, use one finger. If you need help, use two.” 

 

It ends up coming in handy the next day. He’s been running higher glucose wise, which he blames on the two attendings. He used to just coast through lunch and have a light dinner. Now he’s eating three full meals plus snacks. 

 

It’s ridiculous and he can see the change. His scrub bottoms fit just a little tighter around his ass, which Victoria delightfully informs him of one shift while he’s leaned over trying to get ahold of a patient’s pulse. She gets a small lecture from Samira on what’s acceptable to say at work that ends with a “But you are correct and it’s pissing me off that he has a fatter ass than me.”

 

The usual post-lunch high hits him when he’s working with Donnie on a GSW victim. Less of a GSW, more of a grazing. Not that it matters because the man in question won’t stop yelling about it as if he’d been shot in the chest, not grazed in the arm. 

 

Normally, Dennis would go along with it, letting the patient do whatever they want as long as it didn’t bother other patients or doctors. But his patience is thinner as he pulls a little less than gentle on one of the sutures. He stops responding to the man’s complaints because it’s not worth the gradual headache he can feel. 

 

By the time he finishes, it’s evident that something is wrong. He’s thirsty, agitated, and doesn’t even say anything to Donnie before he moves towards the last spot he saw Dr. Robby at. 

 

The attending is dealing with a teenager who hasn’t stopped vomiting from the second they arrived. Dennis leans against the wall, pretending to be looking at something in the chart for his GSW case, waiting for Robby to look his way. 

 

It doesn’t take long, and Dennis quickly brushes a fake strand of hair out of his way with a singular finger. His eyes flicker up to watch Robby’s face soften in understanding. 

 

“Can we get someone to go check in on the labs upstairs? See what the hold up is?” He makes a show of looking around, “finding” Dennis’s nonchalant frame. “Hey, Whitaker. You got a minute?” 

 

“Yeah, sure thing, Dr. Robby.” 

 

He slides by his locker first, grabbing the small diabetic go bag, and heads upstairs, right outside the lab, locking himself into the family friendly restroom. 

 

Sure enough, he’s already above the 200 level and climbing. He sighs but readys the shot and slides the needle into his stomach, trying to move quickly. His phone buzzes as he’s tossing the used syringe into the trash. 

 

Dr. Robby: What’s it at?’ 

 

Dennis: 243. I’m doing a correction, and I’ll check again in a few hours. 

 

Dr. Robby: Push fluids too. You might need to check for ketones if it stays up

 

Dennis stares at the text. They hadn’t even discussed the extras of his disease. The random pieces that you only know about if you have it or have a degree in medicine. It’s clinical, he reminds himself. They’re his doctors not his….whatever. 

 

He shoves his phone back into his scrub pants pocket, leaving the spiral for later, when he has time. 

 

Back downstairs, he hands off the paperwork to Dr. Robby who just pats his back in response. He finds Mel who’s staring at the screen above the charge station, debating her next option. 

 

“Anything fun?” 

 

“Chest pains in four, an asthma attack in eleven, and possible active labor in fifteen.” She pulls her hair up into a ponytail as she studies the options. “How do you feel about possibly doing CPR in the next ten minutes?” 

 

“The same way I do every time it’s a possibility.” 

 

He likes working with Mel. She makes horrible jokes that no one picks up on, and they both misread just enough social cues to balance each other out. It’s easier to quell his temper with her around because you really can’t stay annoyed with her when she’s so damn nice. 

 

“Has Trinity talked to you about Halloween yet?” She asks in between rooms four and eleven. 

 

“No? Should she have?” 

 

Mel shrugs. “I assumed she would. She’s told us about her ideas. I don’t really want a repeat of last time, but she’s pushing this tale of only being young and in your twenties once. I already claimed Designated Driver, so you’ll have to drink if you come.” 

 

“If Trinity hasn’t told me, chances are I’m not included.” 

 

The resident just smiles. “You should probably ask her. She’s got something very special planned.” 

 

He ignores the red flag in that statement as they enter the patient room.

Notes:

I decided that I'd rather post two small ish chapters than a chapter of 8-9K words. So congrats everyone, chapter 10 will be up by tomorrow if not later tonight.

Probably tonight. I'm eager.

Chapter 10

Notes:

just kidding it's way more ready than I thought it was

 

In that first week of October, he ends up at the townhome twice more. They insist on checking in, seeing how the week went for him health wise, and then turning it into how work went, and then they’re talking about sports or current news or Jack’s new book or Robby’s new hobby or anything and everything. 

 

Then it turns into twice more the next week, and he can’t really wrap his head around that. Because twice in one week he shows up and there’s food and drink and conversation. Someone gives him his shot with the most gentleness he’s had all week and makes sure he gets a decent portion of dinner. 

 

By the end of the month, he’s there every few nights. Trinity doesn’t necessarily comment on it because he’s careful to make her favorite dishes on the nights that they are home together. He even takes the bus instead of running up the mileage on her car, or walks from PTMC to their townhome directly. 

 

He doesn’t quite understand how the two attendings are able to make it work. Jack seems to be at the Pitt earlier in the evenings they don’t have anything planned, but leaves later for work on the nights that they do. If his apartment wasn’t out of the way, he’d ask for a ride. But the goodbyes at the doorway are almost…something, the three of them each heading off to their respective places for the night. Robby never asks Dennis to stay after his husband goes. Dennis never tries. 

 

Peace and ease start to fill his body as soon as he lays his eyes on the brick home. He knows that’s the exact opposite of what it should be doing, and he tries to pretend that it’s only from knowing that he doesn’t have any expectations in the space. He pretends that it doesn’t feel better than the white hot pain curling from his chest and around his neck when he stares at them a little too long. 

 

He purposefully ignores the couple as much as he can at work. He goes to Collins or McKay or even Shen if he’s there. If anyone notices the way he seems to avoid the men, they don’t mention it or don’t care. 

 

Each dinner, he learns new things about the couple that he silently adds to his repertoire, and then pretends it doesn’t exist. 

 

Jack reads instead of getting sleep in between shifts. He consumes books that Dennis hasn’t ever even heard of. One night he’s just finished Beloved by Toni Morrison and the next he’s halfway through a book about sickness in the French medieval era. He unashamedly knows the modern authors like Tessa Bailey and John Green. “If it’s good enough for horny teenagers, it’s good enough for me.” 

 

Robby can’t keep a singular hobby to save his life. He shows Dennis his closet of half-assed entertainment one dinner. There’s dead plants, barely knitted blankets, three pages full of crosswords, and untouched canvases. “Half the excitement is spending money on it. Then I look at the effort I have to put in and decide it’s not worth it.” 

 

“That just means if he isn't good at it immediately he drops it.” 

 

“He’s lying.” 

 

Jack just rolls his eyes at Dennis when Robby’s back is turned, tossing his hands up in a ‘what do you do’ motion. He hides his laugh behind a cough. 

 

They aren’t necessarily kosher, but when they do have pork, Jack makes something separate for Robby, in a separate pan. They fight over the wine every single dinner, until Dennis just suggests having one of each open, and now he has to endure the fight over which one they think he likes more. They never pray before a meal but sometimes Robby doesn’t talk for a minute or two after they start eating. It can’t be a coincidence. 

 

It’s decidedly different from the dinners he has with the Walking Hazards. Those are loud, and they switch topics within the same breath. Someone ends up screaming about the wrong opinion of another only to team up in whatever game Mel decides she wants to play to beat everyone else. At some point, and he doesn’t remember when, Mateo had joined their small group. 

 

Uno has been permanently banned per the request of their neighbors and landlord.

 

One night, he insists on getting there early to help Jack with the dinner prep. Rolls up his sleeves in the kitchen and starts dicing up the fish and then the vegetables. They talk, all three of them, Robby perched on one of the barstools against the island. Dennis tells them about how he’s the chef with Trinity, and that he’s pretty sure she’d cut off her fingers if she attempted to help. 

 

“You’re a natural,” Jack says with a smile when he sees Dennis’s handiwork. “Where’d you learn this from? I can never get clean cuts like that.” 

 

“From the farm. I used to have to slit the pig's throats and cut the cattle down for the butcher to process.” 

 

It’s quiet for about five seconds. Robby throws his head back and roars in laughter. Jack’s mouth is twitching as Dennis tries to backpedal. 

 

“Fuck, oh my God, sorry, sorry, it’s just what it was! I forget that not everyone did that type of stuff growing up!” 

 

“No, I really can’t say that I did.” 

 

“It’s a talent,” Robby chuckles.  You can always look at doing surgery for your speciality. You’ve got the background for it.” 

 

At PTMC things are decidedly easier. They still watch him, and he swears Jack is starting to stay later and come in earlier to get an eye on him, but they don’t hover. Whenever he needs a break or a moment, he brushes his left hand above his eyebrow ever so cautiously, like he’s just barely pushing a curl out of the way. 

 

He only signals for help a few times. One day, he’s out of low snacks and Robby brings him a small juice from his own locker. Another, he needs a quick shot of insulin, and Jack is the one who follows him into the bathroom to give it to him. 

 

In his head, it’s clinical. It’s his doctors taking care of him. The patient. So what if they have a rotation of his preferred low snacks on hand? So what if every time he’s unsure of the carb count for dinner they’ve already got it written down for him? 

 

That means nothing. 

 

Until, one night, they’re handing him a box with a pair of brand new On Clouds.

 

“I got the wrong size. And I don’t have time to return them,” Robby shrugs. As if he gives his med students or interns name brand items on the regular. 

 

Dennis debates hiding them in the back of his closet, but his own shoes are so worn out that he can’t help but slide them on his feet the next morning. Robby doesn’t say anything when he arrives at work, but he does squeeze the back of Dennis’s neck a second longer than normal. 

 

God, he’s so fucked. 

 

They’ve gone from being two entities in his orbit to being an omnipresent force. He feels them in a way he’s never felt God before. In all his years of praying for a cure or for a cleanse, he never thought that it might arrive through two men who willingly do the math for him and make sure he takes his pills and feed him and now clothe him. 

 

It’s not supposed to be this way, he thinks every night in his bed, when the warmth of dinner has faded and he’s left alone. There was never an option of finding one person to cure him, let alone two. He can’t decide if it’s really God answering his prayers or another repercussion from the way that the Holy Spirit curls around his neck and tightens when he looks at them. 

 

A few days after they had discussed it, the lantus arrives and he starts to take it on top of his regular shots for food and quick corrections. The effect is immediate and he hates it. He’ll drop so suddenly for seemingly no reason and have to shove half a bottle of juice down to stop himself from passing out. Then he’ll get a headache and a thirst he can’t shake and have to disappear for a correction shot. 

 

He complains about it one night at dinner. “I thought this was supposed to help, not cause more issues.” 

 

“It’s an adjustment period,” Jack reminds him as he slides the needle into his stomach. Robby had taken the liberty of dealing with the drinks while Dennis dosed. “You’re not going to get a one size fits all cure with this. It’s going to take some trial and error.” 

 

“The trial and error is going to end when I pass out and crack my head open on the floor.” 

 

“Well, we’ll be there to pick you up and get you into bed.” Robby hands him the glass of wine as a reward for the shot. “Just try not to do it in front of Gloria or patients.” 

 

It comes to a halt five days before Halloween. He’d started out with a high from breakfast that he’d tried to correct in the apartment. That had just led to him plummeting and chugging juice right after rounds. An hour later, he had slipped away to find another high blood sugar waiting for him, and the cycle restarted. 

 

Halfway through the day’s shift, he knows he can’t keep up. His head is pounding, his throat dry and scratchy. In the three hours he’s been there, he has to run to the bathroom four times to dry heave in the toilet. 

 

Dennis keeps Robby’s frame in the corner of his eye. When he sees the doctor turning his head to start assessing a patient in the hall, he reaches up and brushes his eyebrow. Robby doesn’t give any indication that he saw it, but he still meets the med student out in the hallway. He doesn’t even realize he’s struggling to stay upright until Robby is there, grabbing ahold of him. 

“Hey.” Robby puts his hand on his hip, steadying him. “Hey, easy, kid. What’s going on?” 

 

“I can’t catch up,” he mutters. “It’s up and down and back up and I can’t catch up to it.” 

 

“What was it when you last checked?”

 

“270.” 

 

Robby lets out a low whistle. “Okay. We’ll need to go up on the lantus, yeah? Probably readjust how you’re correcting the lows.” 

 

“I don’t know how to do that.” That’s not true and they both know it. He could probably do it in his sleep on any other given shift, but not today. Not when his head feels so heavy and his blood feels like syrup in his veins. 

 

“Well, not right now. Right now you need to take a shot and then go home to rest.” 

 

“But I still have four hours!” 

 

“And you’re not feeling good. There’s no reason to push. You can’t work like this, you know that.” 

 

There’s a small lump in his throat at the scolding, how ever light it is. He glances around the corner to make sure no one is coming. He quietly admits, eyes focused on the white tile below him, “I don’t want to give myself another shot.” 

 

“That’s what it is about?” Robby’s hand squeezes his hip. “That’s an easy fix, honey. I’d be more than happy to do it for you.” 

 

It is humiliating and suffocating at how that simple offer takes half of the weight off of him. 

 

They manage to snag a shot in Dennis’s abdomen right there in the hall. Robby pinches the soft belly between his fingers and slides the needle in without any resistance. Dennis exhales with a slight whimper at how the insulin gives an almost euphoric relief the second it hits his system. 

 

“There we go,” Robby says softly. He slides the scrub top back down flat. “Good job. You want a ride home? Jack won’t mind coming in.” 

 

“I don’t really want to wait,” he admits. “I kind of just want to lay down.” 

 

“Okay. Go grab your stuff and head on out. Push fluids and don’t overeat when you start to slip.” He reaches out, like he wants to pull Dennis back in, but hesitates. His hand hangs limply at his side instead.“Be careful, okay?” 

 

“I will.” 

 

He almost misses his bus stop because of the nap he takes from his seat. 

 

The apartment is still and too quiet without Trinity or anyone else in it. It’s a little relieving and he treats himself to an extra five minutes in the heat of the shower. He practically collapses into bed and falls asleep within a few moments. 

 

Knocking on his bedroom door wakes him some time later. He manages to lift his head and mumble out some sort of greeting. The door opens slightly, hesitation clear from the person on the other side. 

 

“It’s just me. You okay? Dr. Robby said he sent you home because you weren’t feeling good. Your little girlfriend get you sick?” 

 

Her words are teasing but she sounds genuinely concerned. He doesn’t open his eyes but croaks out a response. 

 

“‘m fine. Tired. Head hurts.” 

 

And his eyes and his stomach and his throat and his entire body but she doesn’t need to know that. 

 

“You need anything?” 

 

“I can’t make something for dinner. Sorry.” 

 

“Alright. Sleep for a little longer. I’ll order something out, and we can start on the next series I’ve withheld from you.” 

 

“Which is?” 

 

“Ever heard of Glee?” 

 

“You already know the answer to that.” 

 

“This is fair. Have you had any water?” 

 

He doesn’t respond and she huffs a sigh. “Unbelivable. You’re almost a doctor.” 

 

“A dehydrated one.” 

 

She gets his water bottle refilled, and stands in front of him until he chugs half of it. He refuses to admit that the ache in his throat and head eases almost immediately. 

 

He moves from the bedroom to the living room couch at her insistence. When the food arrives, she waves off his attempt to go get his wallet. “Knock it off. I can’t cook so it’s my version of being helpful for once. I’d rather spend the money than get fussed at by you for touching the stove.” 

 

“You tried to make soup with a glass container.” 

 

“It almost worked.” 

 

“It almost shattered the glass and sent us both to the hospital.” 

 

She just throws his refilled water bottle at his frame in response. 

 

A few episodes in, he feels his phone buzzing. He pulls his phone out, and, seeing the names on the screen, carefully readjusts himself so that Trinity is nowhere in line of sight of it. 

 

Dr. Robby: Just checking in

 

Jack Abbot: You doing okay?

 

Jack Abbot: Have you checked recently? 

 

Dr. Robby: He’s been waiting to ask that 

 

Jack Abbot: As if you haven’t checked your phone every five minutes to see if there’s an update 

Dennis: All good. 

 

Jack Abbot: That’s not a number 

 

Dr. Robby: It’s technically not 

 

Dennis: 163 pre dinner. I’ll check again before bed. 

 

Dr. Robby: Good job sunshine 

 

Jack Abbot: Glad to hear it Denny boy 

 

Dr. Robby: Don’t worry about coming in tomorrow if you aren’t feeling up for it. I’d rather have you at 100%

 

Dennis’s eye twitches as he reads and rereads the texts. No one has called him Denny since he was at home. He’s never been called sunshine either. In fact. No one is calling him any pet names beyond ‘Huckleberry’ and ‘absolute moron.’ 

 

Dropping the phone facedown on the coffee table, he turns to his roommate. Trinity’s face is monotone, eyes glued to the screen. 

 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

“Hypothetical.” 

 

“Oh, not if it’s work related. I need a break.” 

 

“No, I mean-” he clears his throat, not breaking his stare from the TV screen. “Not hypothetical medical. Hypothetically for me.” 

 

“Go on.” 

 

“Let’s say that I was hypothetically seeing someone. And that hypothetical someone was putting down signals that they might want to…that they’re interested in me.”

 

“Just kiss the chick if you want, Huckleberry.” 

 

“Hypothetically,” he says over her loudly. “Hypothetically, they want to take things further. Or they’re hinting that they do.”

 

Trinity studies him for a second. Then she reaches over his leg and takes the remote. She pauses the show before turning to fully face him. “You’ve seen this girl for a week and think she wants to fuck?” 

 

“I didn’t say that. Also, it’s kind of been longer than a week. Hypothetically longer.” 

 

“I think that realistically you’re still a shitty liar.” 

 

He smacks her meddling hand away. “Come on. Hypothetically, let’s say someone may or may not be interested. And I can’t tell. How could I hypothetically figure it out?” 

 

“Are you interested?” 

 

“Hypothetically-” 

 

“Stop saying hypothetically. Because hypothetically you are ruining the meaning of that word with how often you are using it and I am objectively getting pissed off by it.” 

 

“Trinity, come on. Work with me here.” 

 

“Okay, okay.” She pulls herself upright. “Let’s say someone is maybe giving off vibes that they want to sleep with you or date you or whatever. That they like you. Have they initiated more contact? Gotten close to you more often than needed? Said anything suggestive? 

 

Yes, yes, and yes. 

 

He just nods. 

 

“Okay, so have you done anything to encourage that? Initiated contact? Tried to get a little touchy feely on a date? Asked to see them again?”  

 

“Um, no?” 

“Right, sorry, holier than thou, Saint farmer boy. Do you want to match the energy given?” 

 

He thinks about stolen kisses at youth group and leaving strangers' apartments with a hollow ache. “Maybe? But not if they don’t actually want it. What if they’re just being polite?” 

 

“Dennis, if you and I are having this conversation, I highly doubt it’s polite.” 

 

He stares. 

 

“You are about as subtle as a dump truck. If you’re noticing the signs, they’ve probably already gotten halfway undressed in front of you and wondered why you didn’t touch them.” 

 

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks. You always know how to instill confidence in me.” 

 

“I do what I can. Look, if you’re interested, why don’t you try to put out your own signals?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You know. Flirt back. Touch them before they touch you. Show off those farm muscles you’ve worked so hard for.” 

 

“I’m not-” he scratches the back of his head. His chest feels a bit tight. “I’m not exactly the most flirtatious. Or anything, honestly. I’m asking my lesbian roommate for advice, Trin. I think I’m pretty fucked.” 

 

“You are not fucked. You’re just…” she gestures vaguely. “Inexperienced. And some people actually eat that up.” 

 

“What if I’m wrong?” 

 

He can feel the white, hot guilt already curling inside of him. The waves of mercy and grace that turn into rage and humiliation every time he’s reminded of his sinful existence. Every man he’s ever gazed at or lips he’s ever touched. Was it really even him if he wanted to scrape himself clean every time after? 

 

“Only one way to find out, really. Just don’t do anything illegal or immoral and I think you’re fine.” 

 

He rolls his eyes but nods, picking the remote back up. “Okay. Thanks, I guess. Don’t ask for updates because there might not be any.” 

 

“Aw, Whitaker’s gonna get his berries huckled.” 

 

He snatches the remote off of her lap. “I hate this conversation. This evening? Tainted. I hate you and I hate everything that has transpired in the last fifteen minutes.” 

 

She cackles in response as he presses play. 

 

The next day, he slides in a little earlier than normal, leaving Trinity behind by lying about finishing up notes from the day before. She had barely mumbled a response from her bed as he’d whispered to her and shut the door behind him. 

 

It’s quiet enough that he finds both attendings easily. Jack notices him first, frown etched on him the second he sees the med student. 

 

“You’re really planning on working today? It might not be a bad idea to take it easy, like Robby said.” 

 

Dennis hates how unfamiliar it sounds to hear Jack call his husband a different name at the hospital. Hates that he’s used to hearing him fussing at Michael and the way that Robby seems to just glow at the name. 

 

“I’m okay. I think it’s best to keep my schedule as regular as possible so my body can keep up.” 

 

“Okay.” Jack points a finger at him. “This is me trusting you to be honest with yourself and with us. Don’t make me regret it.” 

 

Dennis smiles, one hand tugging at his backpack strap. “I know. I won’t, I promise.” 

 

Robby appears beside them, running a hand along Dennis’s spine in greeting. “You tell him yet?” 

 

“Tell me what?” 

 

“No, not yet. You free this evening?” 

 

He’s free most evenings. He makes sure he’s free. They don’t need to know that though.  “Why?”

 

“Dinner tonight? We have an idea.” 

 

“Sure.” He tells himself the smile is just because he’s trying to match the energy, like Trinity said. “Dinner sounds great.” 

 

He pretends that the way they act elated does not fill him with joy. 

 

That evening, he tells Trinity he has dinner with friends from med school. She high fives him in a way that has the other girls staring and begging for answers. He only waves them off and waits until he knows they’re all on their own ways home before joining Robby out front. 

 

He pretends that the walk to the townhome isn’t the highlight of his day. And it’s not when Jack takes his backpack for him and pulls his usual kit of supplies to prep the insulin shot without even asking. It’s absolutely not when they pull a box out onto the kitchen table before they’ve even eaten and look at Dennis expectantly. 

 

“What is this?” 

 

“This is the best solution we could come up with,” Robby smiles. 

 

Dennis looks confusedly at the box and back at the doctors. “Please tell me it’s not a dog.” 

 

“No, but we did debate that. We decided we didn’t want any more animals running around the hospital. Service or not.” Jack nods at it. “Go on. Open it.” 

 

He pulls the cardboard back and puts one hand in. He pulls out a small, white and green box. He rolls it over in his hands and reads the label of it. 

 

“It’s one of the fancy continuous glucose monitors that we have a stash of in the Pitt. The company reps come by every month or so to drop off samples so there’s a bit of a backlog,” Robby explains. 

 

“By a bit, he means shelves in the storage closet. Some of them near expiring.” 

 

“Insurance might not cover the supplies you really need, like different insulins or a pump at this point, but we can get you a few things to make it easier for you.” 

 

Dennis feels a lump in his throat. It’s suffocating, tightening around him.  “Can you even technically do this?” 

 

Robby puts his hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with them. “Well, you’re our patient and we want you to try some different options. It’s not like this will stop the random spikes but we can at least get ahead of it.” 

 

“The updates will go right to your phone. And whoever else you want to share it with.” Jack shrugs. “Ideally us. But it’s your prerogative.” 

 

He doesn’t want to cry in front of them. His neck is scorching, his chest aches. “I don’t….I don’t even know how to use this.” 

 

Robby wraps his hand around Dennis’s. “Well, I’m sure between the three of us we can figure it out.”

 

That night, Jack drops him off on his way to PTMC, even though it’s not technically on the way. He lets him out a few streets away, either believing his lie about the apartment building or choosing not to push. Dennis walks to the apartment with a new piece of equipment on his arm and watches the way his app updates in real time with his blood glucose levels. 

 

Trinity is out, per her text she sent while he was busy getting maneuvered around by the doctors to find the best spot to place his monitor. 

 

once you’re done getting your berries huckled, text the group for the halloween outing. I need to get things finalized. 

 

It’s another empty apartment night but he hates it. If not Robby and Jack, he’s used to Mel and Samira and Victoria causing problems and being loud. It’s a weird thing he got used to very quickly. The silence from years of being alone is something he doesn’t want anymore. He’s just barely gotten used to not waking up and padding over to Trinity’s bedroom door to make sure he’s not been left behind again. 

 

Dennis makes the remainder of his night a quick one. He takes a fast shower. Stores the rest of the extra continuous glucose monitors in his closet. Dives under his covers with a groan. 

 

Rolling over, he stares up at his ceiling, mind racing. 

 

They had bought him the shoes, sure. And the sweatshirt in his locker they clearly thought he didn’t notice. Dinners with drinks and conversation and advice. He had 

 

He thinks about Trinity’s advice, about the secret signals, the meals, pet names, and soft touches. A stockpile of medical equipment he had only dreamed of having. Glasses of wine and stories and a sense of balance. The three of them. Figuring things out together and not being alone for once. 

 

Fine. If he can’t stop himself from having a reaction, he’ll just have to give them a reason to react instead. 

Notes:

Friendly reminder that Dennis Whitaker is absolutely the predator.

Don't worry guys the smut chapter with (checks document) 14K words is coming up soon. My Thanksgiving offering to you all.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Me staring at this chapter: You're weird. You're a little to the left and sideways. Something is wrong with you.

My friend on the phone: You say that every chapter. Just post it.

 

Therefore I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. Job 7:11

 

The common mistake they all made with him was deciding that he was some blushing virgin. Trinity hid her hookups. Victoria tried to lie about the weird thing going on between her and Mateo. Mel had no interest in broaching the subject. Samira would even spell out the word sex instead of saying it when she was around to get a giggle out of everyone else. 

 

But Dennis was the youngest child who had been told no more times than he could even remember growing up. When he couldn’t get what he wanted, he knew how to manipulate something to make it seem like it was one of his brother’s ideas, not his own. It used to fill him with a different kind of guilt, one that felt just a little off for being a little evil. Until he got to college and realized how eager some people were to please. 

 

He had a long list of hook ups and one night stands in his back pocket. He knew how to get someone’s attention, and he knew how to get into someone’s bed. 

 

Robby and Jack refused to use words or make a solid move on him. They would rather buy gifts and cook for him and carb count. He’d prefer to just be thrown into bed like a rag doll and fucked until he passed out. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something he could just come out and say without ruining whatever game the three of them were playing. 

 

Because there was a game. In gentle touches and small praises and glasses of wine. There were patterns and Dennis was good at finding patterns and solving mysteries. So if they didn’t want him in their bed, they’d need to say it to his face. 

 

It started simple enough. When Robby reached out to push him towards the next patient he wanted Dennis to see, he didn’t slide out of the grasp. He waited until Robby pulled away to start working. And when Robby took hold of his arm to make sure Dennis had eaten lunch, he let his arm be loose and easy in his grasp, and peered up at Robby through his eyelashes to answer him. 

 

Leaning into the touches at work. Becoming a little more pliable in their hands when they maneuvered him around. Catching their eye and giving a small smile back. He finally lets himself have responses to their awareness of his presence. Ones that aren’t blushes or stammering responses. 

 

He could see the immediate changes in their demeanor. Their grip got a little tighter. Their stares got a little more intense. He even got a slight blush out of Robby when Dennis was bold enough to wink at him after making a stupid joke in a room full of staff members. 

 

Look at me, he silently pleaded to them. I let you move me around like this at work, imagine how you could throw me around in a bed. Just look at me. 

 

One morning, right as Jack is preparing to leave, he slides up to the two, interrupting whatever conversation they had been having. 

 

“Dinner tonight?” he asks with the most casual tone he can muster. “I feel like I’m owed after I was promised a patient with neck lacerations and got nothing instead.”

 

It’s a short moment of surprise at him being the one to initiate it. They glance quickly at each other and smile when they look back down at him. Robby’s eyes are practically twinkling in delight. Jack has that predatory smirk on his face. 

 

They look so damn eager.

 

“Sure thing, kid. Does anything sound good?” 

 

He hums but shakes his head. “No. Not really. Not fish since we had that a few nights ago.” 

 

“I think I’ve got some thawed beef I can use for something. You need to run home for anything?” 

 

“Well, I’d like to change out of these.” He gestures down his frame and watches the way that the married couple’s eyes trail down his body, drinking him in. “Unless you don’t want to wait. I don’t mind keeping them on tonight.” 

 

“I’m sure we’ve got something you can borrow,” Robby says. His throat sounds a little hoarse. 

 

“Perfect.” He pretends to move away, and then turns back. “Oh, and can we have the red tonight? The one from last Tuesday?” 

 

“Don’t start picking sides now,” Jack scolds lightly. He rubs Dennis on the back as he moves towards the exit. “Be good. See you tonight.” 

 

Dennis just waves. Grins at Robby and runs a hand through his hair, tugging lightly on his curls. “Need me for anything? Or should I go find Collins?” 

 

Robby clears his throat. “You can stick with me. I’ve got a blunt force trauma in seven I could use some help with.” 

 

“Great. I was hoping I’d get to be with you today.” He doesn’t even bother hiding his smirk as he follows the doctor. 

 

He manages to stick with Dr. Robby for about half the day. Then he goes to work with Mateo and Princess on chairs. He does everything he can to pick the patients closest in his age, gender an arbitrary point, and makes sure Robby can see him touching them all afternoon. 

 

On the walk to the townhome, Dennis prompts Robby to talk with random questions. He laughs in the right spots and stays quiet at others. It comes back to him so easily, the process of flirting. Finding the open spots. Keeping the conversation flowing. Seeing what parts of him their eyes pause on and trying to keep their attention on them. 

 

When they arrive, he hands his backpack to Robby and looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

 

“Can you fill it for me? My head still hurts from the high glucose earlier today.” 

 

It does not. He has not had a headache all day. 

 

That’s not the point. The point is that Robby takes the bag without any hesitation, and says, “Of course, honey,” as he ushers him through the house with a hand on the small of his back, rubbing small circles with his thumb. 

 

Jack spots them and takes note of the concern on Robby immediately. “What happened?” 

 

“He’s got a headache. Lingered a little too high this afternoon.” 

 

“You want something for it?” 

 

“No, because I want the wine.” It’s amusing how his little whine has them trading glances and smiling down at him like he’s some adorable little puppy. 

 

“Glass of water first,” Jack decides. “Then you can have some.” 

 

Dennis perches himself up onto the island counter as Robby gets his things out for him, checking his phone for the latest blood glucose reading, and administering the shot for him. His legs swing back and forth, zoning out just a little as the couple discusses a few of the cases Jack had traded off to Robby, letting the sound of their voices wash over him. 

 

What would it even look like if they brought him into bed? A quickie after dinner and then tossing him out after? A long night of sex and the walk of shame back to PTMC in the morning? Would they still check in with him when they got alerts for his blood glucose? 

 

“You okay, Denny?” 

He looks away from the spot he’d been staring at on the kitchen tile to find both sets of eyes on him. Robby still has a look of concern from earlier. Jack’s face is relatively neutral but it’s clear from his stance that he’s ready to move whatever way Dennis points. 

 

He nods in response to Jack’s question. “Sorry. Just thinking. Can I borrow some clothes to change into?” 

 

They give him a pair of Jack’s sweats and one of Robby’s hoodies. He promises to bring them back and secretly plans to never return them. 

 

He ups the game the next dinner. They had asked him that night if he had any preferences on snacks for his low glucose that he wanted them to keep at their home just in case. 

 

“Anything really. Not soda. I don’t like it but you both know that.” He drummed his fingers against the countertop in fake thought. “My sister used to make these lemon bars that we kept around.” 

 

“Can’t help you there.” Robby pointed back and forth between himself and his husband. “Neither one of us can bake.” 

 

But Dennis can. Armed with a pan of homemade lemon bars and brownies in case they don’t like one over the other, he enters the townhome the next night without evening knocking. Robby’s already waiting on him anyway, 

 

“Trinity and I had extra. Thought you guys might like some.” 

 

To think that Trinity thought he was a bad liar. They practically inhale the sweets and something dangerously close to pride flickers in his chest. 

 

The real creme de la creme is the photo that he sends when he has to replace his continuous glucose monitor. 

 

He’s freshly showered, curls still damp against his face. Trinity is out, on a date, and so he has no reason to rush out of the bathroom. He goes back and forth on whether his shirt should be on or off, and settles on finding one of the ones that shrunk when Trinity attempted to do laundry and dried an entire load of high heat. 

 

There’s still steam on the mirror from the heat of his shower. He’s got on a pair of sweatpants that lay low on his hips and hint at his v line. He holds his arm up, curled with his elbow in the air, hand grazing the joint of his back so that the back of his bicep is shown with the small plastic monitor. It leaves his torso halfway exposed, his slender but still firm frame exposed. He covers his face with his phone, but is sure to leave just a few stray curls visible. 

 

It’s arguably worse than the straight up nudes he used to send to people. It’s desperate. It’s slutty. It’s humiliating and immediately goes to his hidden photo album. 

 

He sends it anyway with a text of replaced it solo. I think I did well 

 

They responded within minutes. Both of them love the photo, something he didn’t think boomers knew how to do. 

 

Dr. Robby: We could’ve helped you!

Jack Abbot: Looks good though. You’re already a pro

 

He’s enjoying it, sure. But he’s also doing exactly what Trinity said. Matching their energy. Taking it to the next level when they respond back a little too enthusiastically. 

 

Tonight, though? Tonight feels like it might just be a little too much. Like whatever invisible line he’s been toeing and they’ve been playing jump rope with it going to end up in the best sex of his life or the most humiliating moment since his first shift. 

 

He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, hands on his hips, and staring down at his reflection. “I look like a fucking idiot.” 

 

“You look great,” Trinity corrects. She’s taken up half of the vanity even though she could’ve easily gotten ready in her own bathroom. “And I look good too, thank you very much.” 

 

He can’t stop looking at himself. “Are we really doing this? Victoria is a pig. That has to be some level of sexism you want to fight against?” 

 

“She picked it herself. Insisted she looks best in pink, even when I offered up more animals.” 

 

“And what exactly are you? Farmers don’t have slutty cats.” 

 

She makes a face at him. “I’m a sexy barncat. A sexy pussycat if you will.” 

 

He will not. 

 

“And I’m….this.” 

 

“And you-” she turns around to adjust the hat on his head. “-are a very sexy farmer.” 

 

Farmer is correct. She’d pulled out one of his few remaining plaid shirts. His jeans have been fake ruined with mud and rips that he could have done himself if they’d given him a week on an actual farm. He’s wearing his boots for the first time in years. 

 

As for the sexy part….

 

The jeans don’t fit. They button. But they’re hugging his hips and ass in a way he’s not familiar with. There’s an evident difference between the way his body looks in scrubs over the raw denim.. 

 

She’d refused to give him an undershirt too, and then slapped his hands away every time he tried to button up the shirt. So half of his chest is just out and skin slides out with every motion he makes. If he isn’t too careful, his nipples peek out just a bit. 

 

He doesn’t understand who told her or any of the girls that farmers wear cowboy hats, but he has on one of the shitty, cheap ones from a Halloween store. She stuck a red bandana in his back pocket and told him to put his boots on while she finished getting ready. 

 

Farmer, yes. Sexy? Maybe. Maybe if he were a foot taller and had more muscle than Jacob Elordi. Maybe if he was Jacob Elordi. 

 

Trinity had recently shown him Euphoria and refused to answer any of his questions about if normal high schools outside of Broken Bow had students like the ones in the show. 

 

When he had texted and blindly agreed to a group costume, he hadn’t thought that the main subject of said costume would be him. Him, the sexy farmer, and the others, his sexy farm animals. Victoria the pig, Mel the cow, Samira the sheep, and Trinity, a sexy pussycat. 

 

He really needs to start asking more clarifying questions. 

 

Mateo had initially been invited to be another farmer but had gotten pulled to cover for someone’s shift. So now it was just him and the girls, and he wasn’t sure if there was a way to back out at the last minute or not. 

 

As if she could see the thought go through his head, Trinity whirls around and jabs a finger in his chest. “Absolutely not. You will not back out of this when you have been gone for half the month with your little girlfriend.” 

 

“They’re not my girlfriend. And I have not been gone that often.” 

 

He had been gone a lot more. 

 

“Besides, this is a work function.” 

 

“No, it’s not. This is an outing that I suggested but Victoria and Mel blabbed about. If half of the staff actually does show up, that’s on them. I’m not going to stop myself from getting black out drunk just because our bosses are there.” 

 

Yeah, that was the part that didn’t make sense. He thought it had been a joke when Robby had mentioned the Halloween outing at one of their dinners. 

 

“We used to have a function there every year. Post pandemic….” Robby shrugs. “It fizzled out.” 

 

He thought they were kidding. But sure enough, the bar that Trinity had picked for them to frequent was widely known across the Pitt. Everyone had mentioned all day that they were planning to stop by for a drink or two. 

 

Which means his costume was about to be witnessed by any and all members of the PTMC emergency medicine staff. 

 

Just his fucking luck. 

 

“You look fine. You look boring in comparison to me.” 

 

Dennis wasn’t sure how that was a fair comparison. Trinity is in a black corset with black booty shorts. If they had traded outfits, he wouldn’t be able to step foot outside unless he wanted to be arrested for indecent exposure. 

 

Victoria is practically bouncing up and down on the street outside of her place when they pick her up. 

 

“I thought you’d be in a mood since your little boy toy can’t make it,” Trinity says as she hops into the backseat. 

 

“I sent him a picture of my costume and he said he was a very pathetic, weak excuse of a man for missing out on me.” Victoria grins as she buckles her seatbelt. “And I took a few shots of vodka before you got here. I am in a very, very good mood.” 

 

Apparently Dennis is the only one in a very, very bad mood. Trinity refused to let him drive, and so they have to park further away since she can’t park to save her life. Samira and Mel are waiting for them outside of a very packed bar, and Dennis wonders how mad they would be at him if he just left. 

 

The two residents applaud Trinity and Victoria while Dennis stands back with their respective purses and lets them have a moment. 

 

Samira whistles loudly when she finally turns her attention to Dennis. “Wow! I thought Trinity was kidding when she said you looked good. I didn’t have any faith that she could rope you into this.”

 

“Why does no one ever trust me?” Trinity grumbles as she adjusts her cat ears. Dennis rolls his eyes and looks back at Samira.  

 

“How bad is it? And be honest.” 

 

“It’s not bad,” Samira grins. “I just think that- here, hold my purse.” She reaches back around him and pulls the bandana out of his pocket. Folding it around his neck, she ties it loosely and adjusts it for him. “There. I like it there more.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s better,” Mel agrees with a nod. 

 

“I hate all of you.” 

 

They all laugh at his pout and push him through the doorway. 

 

They get a few rounds of applause and whistles from PTMC employees and bystanders alike as they make their way to the bar. It makes his entire face flush cherry red. A few people have the same level of scandalous costumes, ones that Dennis had always seen from afar during his time in undergrad. He takes special note that no other male is dressed like him and swears to find a way to curse Trinity’s bloodline. 

 

Right by the bar, waiting on drinks, are the two people he’s dreaded and still eagerly been looking for. Flanked by Dana, Collins, and a few others, Robby and Jack lean against the wooden countertop. They find him first in the small gaggle of young adults, and Dennis decides this night needs to be over quickly. 

 

Robby’s line of sight goes for his neck, falling down to his exposed chest. Jack doesn’t even falter in staring at his hips and legs, and Dennis knows the second he turns around, they’ll be glued to his ass too. 

 

They’re looking at him like he’s something to devour and it makes him hot. 

 

“Damn, Whitaker! How the hell did they rope you into this?” Dana grins. 

 

He makes a show of glancing down at his getup. “I honestly have no idea. I think I need to start reading my texts more carefully.” 

 

“It’s our way of honoring his heritage.” Trinity drapes an arm over his shoulders and yanks him into a hug. “He said no to assless chaps, though. I really tried but he said he wouldn’t come out in those.” 

 

“Damn. Missed quite a show then.” Jack says it like it’s a joke but Dennis can see the flicker of hunger in his stare. 

 

“Always next year,” he replies. Everyone laughs like it’s funny and not the weirdest foreplay he’s done in awhile. “No costume for any of you?”

 

“Didn’t have time.” Robby shrugs. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

 

“And I haven’t dressed up since college. Never even did it for the kids,” Dana says. “You all are a good looking group though, I’ll tell you what.” 

 

“Well, next year I expect a costume contest in the Pitt,” Trinity says. “Even if Whitaker isn’t here to be the centerpiece, we’ll be winning.” 

 

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Robby tells her. His eyes find Dennis again. “You kids have fun. Be careful.” 

 

He knows the sentiment is directed at him and it makes something in his stomach pool with need. 

 

They shift over to the other side of the bar, where the girls pile their drink orders onto Dennis to fight his way through the line while they hang back at an open table. He does it happily, enjoying the chance to zone out on his phone and wait for his chance to order. 

 

It takes too long to get to the front. Even longer to get the drinks that are finished within minutes. He just rolls his eyes as they request he go up again, and yells loudly over the noise, “Fine, but someone is going up next round!”

 

Thirty minutes later, he is the one going up for the third time. 

 

He decides to take residence on one of the few stools open, and lets the four come to him with any requests. That means he gets saddled with their purses as they visit the dance floor or in Trinity’s case, circle for a Halloween hookup, in between sips. Even Mel, the promised Designated Driver, goes with Victoria in between her water breaks. 

 

Dennis just enjoys putting the beers he orders on Trinity’s tab. She had handed over her credit card with strict instructions to keep it open until she told him otherwise. Which meant his time as the bag guardian could be spent getting wasted without the noise and jerking elbows of others. 

 

From his spot, he can see the circular booth where the attendings and veteran staff have all gathered. Robby and Jack take up one side on their own, facing Dennis as he drains his glasses and bottles. They glance at him occasionally, but it feels less like an accident and more so them making sure he’s still within their line of sight. 

 

A hand clasps down on his shoulder and it startles him. He looks up at the person and swears loudly. 

 

“Oh, you motherfucker.” 

 

Mateo grins and holds his hands up. “Don’t be pissed. I swear, this was not planned. I just got pulled from the shift at the last minute.” 

 

“So you came here to rub it in my face that you get to be costumeless?” 

 

“I’m not costume-less.” He waves down the front of his frame, still in his black scrubs. “I’m a nurse. A cardio nurse.”

 

Dennis rolls his eyes. “You’re a bad person. You and your girlfriend and everyone in that damn text thread. I’m never going to recover from this.” 

 

“Don’t let it bruise your ego.” Mateo claps his hand on Dennis’s shoulder in a bro-way that Dennis has never experienced. The nurse nods over at the other side of the bar. “You’re getting admirers from it. Hate them or love them, the girls knew what they were doing tonight.” 

 

There is in fact a wall of wide eyes and grins. Blondes and brunettes, males and females alike. Dennis has never felt confident in his appearance in his life, but apparently the slutty farmer getup was getting to some people. 

 

But when one patron shifts, he sees the couple he wants to tear into sitting at a booth, chatting with Dana and Collins. Those are the only eyes he wants on him tonight. 

 

“Might as well enjoy it, man. If I was in that costume-” Mateo shakes his head with a grin. “I’d be-” 

 

“You’d be what?” Victoria says loudly behind him. He spins around, clearly caught off guard. Her hands are on her hips as she glares at the man. “You’d be doing what, Mateo?” 

 

Dennis turns his laugh into a cough and sniffle when Victoria looks over at him. She snatches the drink he’d ordered for her and marches back to where she’d left Samira. The resident laughs at the expression on Mateo’s face and follows her friend into the crowd. 

 

“Well, fuck,” Mateo sighs. He nods at the drink in Dennis’s hands. “Can I have that? Some liquid courage before I go groveling at her feet?” 

 

He hands over his beer. “I hear she thinks she looks really good in pink.” 

 

“This is why you’re my favorite. Besides her obviously. She is my first favorite, forever.” 

 

“Nice save. Good luck, buddy.” 

 

Alone again, Dennis looks at the still slammed bartenders and sighs. He was being nice by giving up his drink considering how he was going to be waiting for a new one. 

 

“Hi.” 

 

He turns at the new voice and is met with a firm chest of blue. Dennis blinks and looks up. A blonde man with very bright blue eyes is standing in front of him in a fake police officer costume. “Oh. Hi.” 

 

“I’ve been waiting to work up the courage to come over here and the second I did, you’re talking with other people. I figured I should step in before someone takes my chance again.” 

 

“You act like there’s a line out the door to talk to me.” 

 

“Trust me. There will be soon enough.” He offers out his hand. “I’m Isaac.” 

 

Dennis takes it. “Dennis.”

 

“You’re with them?” He nods at the small group over on the dance floor. They’re laughing and moving in a way that Dennis would rather drown himself than do. 

 

“It would appear so.” Dennis shakes his head. “I’m from Nebraska. They think it’s funny to remind me of my past life at any given chance.” 

 

“Were you actually a cowboy in Nebraska?” 

 

“Worse. Farmboy.” 

 

Isaac laughs and Dennis tries not to smile back. “Damn. I honestly forget Nebraska exists sometimes.” 

 

Dennis shrugs. “It’s pretty forgettable. There’s not much out there. I don’t think anything good comes from it half the time.” 

 

“Well that can’t be true if you’re a native of it.” 

 

Oh, so that’s what they were doing. He can remember stupid pick up lines and awkward conversations from previous years that led to him stumbling into a stranger's bed. 

 

Isaac nods at his nearly empty beer. “Can I get you another one?” 

 

“I guess. If there’s not anything else keeping your attention tonight.”

 

The blonde just grins. “Not at the moment. I think I’ve found my spot for the holiday.” 

 

He waves down the bartender and orders another drink for Dennis. When he leans over the bar top, there’s a flash of attendings who seem to have let the conversation move on without them. 

 

They’re both….well not frowning but they sure as hell don’t look happy. It’s those weird expressions that they get when one of the residents or interns has done something they probably shouldn’t have but it still yielded a positive outcome. 

 

He knows it’s stupid, but the irritation makes him giddy. If this is what it would take to keep their attention….

 

“So what brought you to Pittsburgh?” 

 

Isaac is holding the fresh drink in front of him. Dennis takes it before answering. 

 

“Um, med school. I took the cheapest option to avoid buckets of debt.” 

 

“Did it work?” 

 

He snorts, raising the bottle to his mouth. “Yeah. I cut off a whole five years of debt.” 

 

The blonde laughs a little in response. “Yeah, I feel the same way. I got my degree in engineering. I’m working towards a PhD in chemical engineering now.” 

 

“Chemical engineering. Wow. I have no idea what that entails.” 

 

“Math. Lots of math.” 

 

“Oh. I’m not a numbers guy so I avoided math as much as I could.” 

 

“You don’t do any math as a doctor?”

 

“Student doctor for now. And no, not, at least not the kind you do.” 

 

Dennis should be having fun. He should be enjoying this. There’s a cute guy in front of him who looks age appropriate and is buying him drinks. There’s no wedding band on his left hand and he is asking all the right questions to get to know Dennis. He’s halfway funny. He might even be normal and good in bed. 

 

Yet, every single time Isaac moves, he gets glimpses of the married couple whose home he knows almost as well as his own. They’re somewhat engaged in the conversation at their table. They’re also managing to find Dennis’s eyes every time they glance over. It makes him squirm just a little in his chair. 

 

“You alright?”

 

He pulls his gaze away from the booth. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. This fucking costume is just-“ he yanks at the cloth around his neck. “It’s just annoying me.” 

 

Isaac reaches out and slides his pointer finger just under the bandana. “It’s cute.” 

 

His touch doesn’t feel quite right. His fingers are cold from his drink and there’s not an ounce of softness to it. His hands aren’t guiding but foreign and unsure. 

 

Dennis watches over the man’s shoulder as Robby and Jack just stare at the scene unfolding. “It’s itchy.” 

 

Isaac laughs and he hates the sound. It’s not deep enough. But still, he glances up at the man, and bats his eyelashes. “Will you take it off for me? I think it’s knotted in the back.”

 

“Sure thing.” 

 

Dennis turns around, and lets Isaac press himself up against his body just a little too closely. The other man’s hips press into his own and he can feel the faintest outline of a bulge up against his ass. He tilts his neck just enough to the side so that the red fabric can come undone. 

 

It slides off from around his skin slowly. Dennis lets the man behind him wait for a moment before turning back. But his eyes aren’t on Isaac’s. There on the couple at the booth whose faces are getting amusingly red. 

 

Robby’s hand is curled around his drink, knuckles white from the grip. His lips are pursed thin with an annoyed glare. His husband is a little more subtle with it, arm stretched lazily across the top of the booth behind Robby’s frame. His legs are outstretched beneath the table. But Jack’s gaze steady and when Dennis stares at him challengingly, the man only raises one brow and fucking grins. 

 

Something about that just pisses him off. Dennis turns his attention back to the one in front of him. He takes the small scrap of red out of his hands and sticks it in his back pocket. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure how much more of that I could handle.” 

 

“Sure.” Isaac eyes his neck. . “Your skin's a little irritated, though. Are you always that sensitive?” 

 

Dennis laughs slightly. He hooks one leg around the other man’s, pulling him in just a little closer. “You wanna find out?” 

 

That catches the blonde's attention. His smile is not enticing and the way he tilts his head is all wrong. “You know for a second there, I thought you were going to tell me to just fuck off.” 

 

Dennis shrugs. “I was. I still might. That okay with you?” 

 

“Honestly, honey, you can do whatever you want and it’d be okay with me.” 

 

Robby says honey like it’s a whisper of praise. This guy says it like it’s something he saw in porn once. 

 

“Is this your usual tactic? Come to an overcrowded bar and take bits of their clothes off before trying to get them to go home with you?” 

 

“I have a tendency to do it, yeah. I usually go to their place though.” 

 

“Why? What are you hiding at yours?” 

 

“A massive Lego collection. I show it off by date three.” 

 

Dennis forces himself to laugh. “Impressive.” 

 

He keeps up the dialogue solely to watch the way that Robby and Jack get visibly more irritated. They talk about school, work, some movie Dennis lies through his teeth about seeing. With every passing second, their jaws get tighter and their stares get a little more pointed. 

 

But he’s still a good friend. He gets flashes of the girls on the floor and orders another drink for Samira when she catches his eye. Trinity looks visibly less sober every time. 

 

“Are you going to join them at some point? 

 

He blinks. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Your friends. I'm surprised you haven’t gone to be a portion of the dance party.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m on bag duty tonight.” He waves his arm at the pile of purses. “Everynight.” 

 

“Every night? Even later tonight?” 

 

“Is there somewhere else I might want to be later tonight?” 

 

“I’d like to convince you, yeah.” 

 

The second Isaac’s hand reaches out and cups Dennis’s cheek, he knows whatever stupid little game they’re playing is over. 

 

Robby stands first, abandoning his beer on the table. He mumbles something to the other staff members at the table that gets a laugh and a few waves. Jack says something that gets more laughs as he slides out behind his husband. They start moving away from the booth, past the sea of dancers, and right towards Dennis. 

 

He’s inches away from Isaac’s mouth, seconds away from kissing a man for the first time in a very long time. He doesn’t care about that, he only cares about the way that the two attendings are moving towards him like he’s a patient being rushed into their space, like the most important thing is getting to him. It’s all his late night fantasies are finally going to come true when they- 

 

They walk right past him. 

 

They fucking walk past him. 

 

Dennis actually turns his head away from the incoming kiss and stares after the couple leaving the bar. They don’t look back once as Jack holds the door open for Robby. 

 

Humiliation washes over him. He feels hot. Why had they been watching him so intently just to leave him behind? Had he been making them uncomfortable instead? What could he have possibly done that would drive them to go without even saying goodbye to him? 

 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward.” 

 

Oh, right. Isaac looks a little bit crushed in front of him, waiting to finish this stupid moment. 

 

“No, it’s me. Sorry, I’m uh-” he needs an excuse for being an absolutely horrible person. “I’m not out yet. This is already a lot more than what I usually do.” 

 

“So should we get out of here?” Isaac drops his hand but it ends up on Dennis's leg and he pushes down the urge to slap it. 

 

“Um.” He can’t even remember how many drinks he’s had. Enough to be stupid and say yes? It’s been too long since he was asked into a bed that wasn’t his own.  He might not want it but he knows he doesn’t want to be alone. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” 

 

He flags down Mel as Isaac disappears to pay the tab. “I’m heading out.” 

 

“What?” She frowns. “But you haven’t even joined us yet-”

 

The hat gets tossed onto the pile of purses. Over his dead body will a hookup involve a cowboy hat. “I just don’t feel great. And I have a lot of errands I have to go run on my off day tomorrow, so I think I’d rather go home.”

 

“Dennis, they’re all waiting for you to come out. We can switch! Just stay a little longer.” 

 

“They won’t even notice. Trinity won’t even notice. I’ll see you Monday, alright?” 

 

He moves towards the door before Mel can respond. Isaac seemed to have picked up on the issue inside and had kindly gone ahead and left the area. He finds him right outside the bar, swinging his keys around on his finger. 

 

“Ready?” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” 

 

He can’t get a hold of his thoughts as they walk.  The stares and glaring across the bar. His whole body flushing with heat when they looked over his costume. That fucking smirk from Jack. All of it pointed towards the night ending one way, and he didn’t understand how they had just left him. 

 

Left him alone, in a bar, with a stranger. Like they hadn’t pulled him into quiet corners of the hospital or argued over bottles of wine. He had been in their space, in their orbit, and they left him. They might not have some sort of claim to him but they had been acting like he was part of them for more than one night. So why did they leave him when he finally started to reciprocate? 

 

“Where to?” Isaac asks as he unlocks his car. Dennis slides into the passenger seat. He glances at the bar, still full of people. The sun has officially set and he doesn’t want to take this guy home. Not to his apartment, not to a random parking lot. He wants, just for once, answers. The truth, however horrible it might be. 

 

Something purely evil in him takes over and he rattles out Robby and Jack’s address. 

 

He doesn’t know what the plan is. What he wants to do. What he can even do to salvage this evening. There’s something between anger and sorrow sitting in his body and he needs to get rid of it by any means necessary. He needs to know how stupid he;s actually been. Even if it just led to more humiliation. 

 

The conversation is abysmal at best. Isaac is overly eager and Dennis can only offer a few one worded responses. He’s too busy trying to decide if this is the worst decision of his life, or exactly what he needs. 

 

What if they just laughed at him? Or had to turn him down? What if they went to HR or to his advisor at med school and told them that this student had been harassing them for weeks? He could lose his spot at PTMC. Lose the diploma. Trinity would absolutely kick him out for being such a freak. Was he really willing to lose all of it for the sake of one night of maybe having sex? 

 

Before he can think of a halfway decent lie to get the car to turn around, they’re pulling up on the street. The familiar brick townhome sits quietly across from them. A few lights are still on inside. Dennis hates the way he can feel the peace washing over him just by seeing the building. 

 

“This is me.” 

 

Isaac parks the car and lets it stall for a few quiet moments. “Would it be too forward for me to ask if I could come up or….” 

 

“It would be. You’ve got my number. Text me.” 

 

That’s a lie. He’s pretty sure that the number he fumbled into Isaac’s phone on the drive over was several digits off. He stumbles out of the car before Isaac can respond and slams the door behind him. 

 

Apparently, the blonde isn’t even the type to make sure he gets inside safely. He drives away before Dennis is even halfway up the stairs. 

 

Which is fine, because it makes the aggressive knocking he does all the more humiliating. 

 

Robby answers the door, like always. He’s still in his clothes from the bar. His eyes widen and he does a double take when he sees the one knocking. 

 

“Dennis?” 

 

“Yeah, hi, sorry. I-” what the fuck was he doing here? Why didn’t he think of what to say? “I was in the neighborhood. And I think I left my scrubs here from last week.” 

 

“Oh, yeah. Sure, come on in.” 

 

He stumbles in, heart racing. He feels clammy. Sweaty. Everything is wrong and feels tainted.  

 

“Who is it?” Jack calls from the living room. 

 

“It’s Dennis.” 

 

There’s a slight awkward pause before Jack appears. Dennis feels idiotic for not even thinking about changing before coming over. Who shows up slightly intoxicated at their bosses house to ask for scrubs from a few nights ago? 

 

“Sorry. I left my scrubs here and figured I might as well grab them.” 

 

“Sure thing, kid. I put them with Robby’s stuff in the kitchen, just give me a second.” 

 

“I got it,” Robby says, already moving. It leaves the two of them waiting awkwardly. 

 

Dennis stares up at the ceiling. Jack leans against the doorframe and watches him. Maybe something can interrupt this. An earthquake, if those even happened in Pittsburgh. A house fire. Something to erase this entire place and all the distorted memories with it. 

 

“You have fun?” 

 

He shrugs at the question. “Sure. It was mainly for the others. I didn’t want to go.” 

 

“I thought that was your scene. Bars and dancing and flirting with people.” 

 

He actually laughs at that. “I would rather spend an entire night doing derm work at the Pitt. I only go for the girls. Trinity gets really mean when I try to back out.” 

 

“They push you outside of your comfort zone. That’s a good thing.” 

 

He shuffles slightly on his feet. “What about you two? Enjoy the novelty of a bar on Halloween?”

 

“It wasn’t what we were expecting. Left us both a little…wanting.”  

 

Before he can ask what that means, Robby reappears. He hands over the cleaned and folded scrubs to Dennis, who curls them against his chest. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

“Sure, honey. You want a ride home?” 

 

“No. No, that’s okay, I can walk.” 

 

He hesitates though, right by the door. He doesn’t want to go. He wants answers. He wants one of them to admit to whatever the fuck they’ve been playing at. 

 

The two men watch him like they aren’t quite sure what to do with him. He doesn’t know either. 

 

“You left.”  It slips out before he can stop himself. “At the bar. You left.” 

 

Jack arches a brow at his statement. “It was getting late, kid. I know you’re off tomorrow but Robby isn’t.”

 

“But you left.” It comes out limply. “You left me there. You didn’t even- you didn’t even say anything.” 

 

“Did you want us to?” Robby asks softly. 

 

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I just don’t-”

 

There’s a million things running through his head. A million touches and glances and unsaid things that he just can’t handle anymore. 

 

“Is it me?” he finally asks, feeling small and childish again. He looks at the two men who know more about him than his own family. All the confidence of the night has gone and left him cold. “Is it me? Because I can’t figure out what it is that you both want from me. If it’s really just for work, fine. But if there’s something else-”

 

He can’t finish the thought. He doesn’t want to. He’s good at this. He’s good at finding the gaps in problems and figuring out what a person wants or needs. It’s exhausting and he can’t do it. At least not with them anymore. If they want him or not. If they care or don’t. 

 

He’s so sick of it. He doesn’t want to play games. He doesn’t want to whore himself out for the mere possibility of someone looking at him. 

 

Someone should want him. Someone should say that they want him. 

 

Didn’t he deserve it? 

 

The couple just stares at him. The silence is answer enough. 

 

“Fine.” His eyes feel heavy with unshed tears. God this is so humiliating. The exact thing he was trying to avoid in the first place. This is what he got for wanting not one person, but two. For coveting what wasn’t his and was never going to be his. 

 

He doesn’t want to be in the same house as them, let alone the same room. “That’s fine. I can just, I’ll go.” 

 

“No, Dennis, hold on.” Jack pushes himself off of the doorway with a slight huff. 

 

“I can’t. I really, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He turns on his heel and starts moving towards the front door. He can’t be here again. The odd one left out, the one left behind, the runt at the bottom of the pile. He’s so tired of it. Of being abandoned, by family, by friends, by God. 

 

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and the dinners and the touches and the everything is only adding salt to the wound. It’s another cruel joke of God, of a savior who won’t give him answers to anything, only more problems and more hurt. 

 

Doesn’t he deserve goodness? Just once?

 

“No, just hold on.” Robby’s voice is so desperate but he refuses to stop moving. “Dennis, honey, please.” 

 

A hand curls around the back of his shirt and pulls him back. He stumbles slightly, but Jack catches him and forces him to face them both. Dennis stares at the ground and tries to focus on breathing normally. He can feel the tears coming down his cheeks and he refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him cry as they end whatever this is. 

 

“Dennis.” Jack’s hands are firm against his waist. “It’s not you. Okay? It’s not.” 

 

“Please don’t lie to me.” He shakes his head. “Please. I get it, I swear. Just- look, I’ll go home, I won’t say anything to anyone.” 

 

“Do you want that?” Robby asks. He’s closer now, standing right beside the two, Jack still holding Dennis in his arms. “Do you want to go?”

 

It’s not about what he wants. It’s never been about what he wants. He could want answers, love, patience, a place to sleep. He always wants. But God only gives to those whom he loves and treasures and Dennis is not one of those chosen few. 

 

“Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I want.” 

 

“What about what we want? Have you ever considered that we might want you here?” Jack asks him. 

 

“Well, here, sure, for dinner, for work, but not-” he shudders. “Not me. Not like that.”

 

“No, baby boy.” He leans down, a mere breath away from Dennis’s lips. He takes one hand to tilt Dennis’s chin up and forces him to look at him. “Right here. Right here with us.” 

 

Jack closes the gap, and kisses him.

Notes:

Can you imagine if I was just like "and you know what happened next :)"

I'm editing the smut chapter. It cannot be 14K of Dennis getting railed. It totally could be but I have several smut chapters planned because I'm a freak. I am getting distracted by the Hunger Game AU that came to me in a dream and the unfortunateness that is thanksgiving week.

That being said....see you Wednesday my loves!

Chapter 12

Notes:

I'm so fucking nervous about this actually

But if you will seek God earnestly and plead with the Almighty, if you are pure and upright, even now he will rouse himself on your behalf and restore you to your prosperous state. - Job 8:5-8

 

Jack tastes like whiskey and smoke and mint. 

 

He kisses like how he does everything; confident and sure and leading without hesitation. There’s no question as to who is in charge of the moment. Dennis has to chase after him when he starts to move away, desperate to not lose that taste and that energy that fills him back up after such a long night. 

 

When they do break the kiss, it's Jack, leading the way, who breaks it first. He keeps his eyes steady on Dennis, waiting to see how he’ll react. 

 

Dennis? Dennis can’t breathe. Dennis can’t breathe. He feels a little dizzy, head spinning from the alcohol, his outburst, and the pure intoxication that is Jack and Robby. 

 

And it’s Robby who speaks first. 

 

“Well that’s just not fair. You said we’d let him pick which of us he kissed first.” 

 

“Shit, my bad, baby. You want a taste?” 

 

Robby leans over Dennis’s head and presses his lips against his husband's. He doesn’t remember when the other man had found his way behind Dennis’s body, but his hands are placed right below Jack’s like they belong on some part of Dennis at all times. 

 

Even though they’re kissing each other, they’re squeezing at Dennis. At his hips, his ass, his everything. Their hands are eager and demanding. With his luck and his anemia, he’s going to have bruises with the way that their hands are digging into his sides, grasping and groping. 

 

They’re encompassing his space in a way that dizzily reminds him of the stairwell. He’s the runt at the bottom of the pile, but he’s also the prize that they won’t stop touching. 

 

When he inhales sharply at a particularly harsh grip, they break their kiss. Then he has both sets of eyes staring down at him and the attention makes him shiver. 

 

“Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to leave you out.”

Robby moves and Dennis squeaks when their lips connect. 

 

For all the firmness of Jack, Robby kisses slow and deep. As if he’s scared Dennis will pull away from it. Like Dennis could break. He’s sweeter in his touches and in his taste. Like the white wine he always wants for dinner. Full of residual sugar and heat. 

 

Dennis has to take a very deep breath when the kiss breaks. Give his lungs a second to catch up. He looks between the two attendings as his chest rises and falls. They both look a little flustered. The blush on his cheeks and neck feels like it’s pooled all the way down to his feet. His entire body is burning. The Holy Spirit is surrounding him for the first time in years. 

 

He opens his mouth, then closes it. 

 

“I think we broke him.” 

 

“Shit,” mumbles Jack. “So much for easing him into it.” 

 

"Unbelievable. Best med student I've had in years and you broke him before I could even finish training him." 

 

"I did not break him. You're one to talk with all the grabbing and endearing names. If I broke him, it's because you made him nice and pliable first." 

 

“Coming from the one who kissed him so he’d stop panicking.” 

 

“Oh, I did not.” 

 

“You kinda did,” Dennis points out, finally managing to speak. He isn’t sure where the words come from. “You were just kinda there and I didn’t really have any other option.” 

 

Jack rolls his eyes and, grasping at his jaw firmly, kisses him again. His fingers are tight against Dennis’s cheeks and he can’t move when Jack nibbles at his bottom lip. He moans a little and he can feel the way it makes the older man smile. 

 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs against his lips. “I just thought the moment called for it.” 

 

He has to bite back a complaint as Jack pulls away from him fully. He wants another taste, another moment. After weeks of teasing him, a few kisses isn’t enough. It leaves him just barely caught between the two men, one on each side. 

 

They’re both watching him warily, like they’re waiting for something to happen. He isn’t sure why for a few seconds. 

 

Then his head just barely catches up with his actions and his eyes widen in panic. 

 

“Hey, okay, Dennis, you’re fine-” Jack starts to say, but Dennis backpedals out of the weird hold they had him in. He pulls himself out of their grasps and backs against one of the walls, paling at the realization. 

 

“Dennis-”

 

“Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohfuck-” he’s hyperventilating. He thinks he might have a panic attack, if one isn’t already happening. What the fuck was he thinking? Showing up buzzed and then kissing them? He’s watching his entire night sink to the bottom of a metaphorical ocean and wonders if he’ll ever survive. 

 

“Sunshine, really, you’re okay,” Robby soothes. From their position in front of him, he feels like a wild animal. Like one of the calves he had to corner back home to tag properly. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” 

 

“Why are you apologizing?” Jack looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Robby shoots him a dirty look but his husband only throws his hands up in a ‘what do you want me to do’ way. “Denny, baby, we kissed you.” 

 

“Well, technically, you kissed him twice.” 

 

“Are we really arguing over semantics right now, Michael?”

 

“Not really semantics, Jack. Kinda just facts.” 

 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come over here. This was such a stupid fucking-” he covers his face with his hands and rubs tiredly. The buzz of his few drinks is gone and he hates it. Hates how everything is so clear. How they’re trying to be nice to him when he’s the one that caused the problem in the first place. “I’m so sorry. I can go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I’ll just go and-”

 

“No.” Robby is the one who speaks so firmly, catching Dennis off guard. Usually Jack reserves that tone for him. It pulls him out of his panic like a bucket of ice water washing over him.“You did nothing wrong, Dennis. We should’ve been a little more….well we should’ve done a lot of things. But you did nothing wrong.” 

 

“He’s right,” Jack says. “We didn’t mean to ambush you like that. Our self control tends to vanish when you’re around.” 

 

“I didn’t even think that the two of you-” Dennis shakes his head. “I mean, especially after the bar. I didn’t think the two of you noticed me half the time.” 

 

“Dennis, if you don’t think your very presence sends us out of commission, you have not been paying attention.” 

 

Dennis just stares at Jack. Robby rubs a hand along his jawline, watching the younger man. 

 

“Look, you can say something now, we drive you home, and never talk about it again. We won’t tell anyone, it will change nothing, and we’ll continue on like normal.” 

 

Dennis’s eyes flicker between the two men. “Or?” 

 

“Or.” Robby takes a step forward and grasps his cheeks with his hands. He tilts his head upward. He kisses him again, barely brushing his tongue against the lining of his lips. Dennis just barely holds himself back from widening his mouth. It’s a shorter kiss, more evident in want. “Or we take you to our room and finally see you come undone.”

 

There’s about a thousand reasons why he should leave. Maybe a million if he really wants to sit down and count them out. 

 

This is a horrible idea. This is a career ending, slutty, jaw dropping Human Resources nightmare. He’s a med student ending this rotation in a few weeks. They are a married couple who are in charge of said rotation. They’re technically his doctors. 

 

And yet. 

 

He wants it. He wants it so embarrassingly bad. He’s been craving it. He wants to know what they’d feel like pressing into him and fucking into him. He wants to see who fucks harder and who fucks deeper. He wants to feel them so deep inside of them that he’s sore for days. 

 

Could it really be such a bad idea? When they kissed him first, when they initiated it? Doesn’t he deserve something good and flirty and fun for one night? At the very least, it’s a really shitty threesome. At best….

 

At best, it’s halfway decent sex. 

 

“Okay.” He glances between the two. Jack tilts his head to the side like he doesn’t quite believe him. “If you’re sure. Then okay.” 

 

“Oh, thank fuck.” Robby’s kissing him again within seconds and pulls him away from the wall to his chest. His hands find their way to Dennis’s ass again and Dennis just wraps his arms around Robby’s neck, pushing up on his tiptoes. 

 

He opens his mouth a little and Robby’s tongue eagerly starts exploring. It’s overwhelming already. Dennis can feel his own cock hardening against Robby’s, and he distractedly wonders how in the hell he’s going to survive this. 

 

“We should probably take this out on the entryway. I’m not against giving a show to the street but I also don’t want to get interrupted,” Jack says behind them. 

 

“Should we?” Robby murmurs against Dennis’s lips. 

 

“Couch is fine,” he responds, a little breathless. 

 

Robby laughs. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks. We finally get you alone and you think we’re going to fuck you on the couch?” 

 

Dennis shrugs. “I’m not picky. Besides, the couch is closer.” 

 

“Bedroom,” Jack says, tone firm. “What’s the point of a king size bed if we can’t use it to our advantage?” 

 

“I just said why. Couch is closer.” 

 

“You’re awfully mouthy for someone who went dead silent over a few kisses.” 

 

Dennis rolls his eyes but squeaks in surprise when there’s a sharp slap on his ass for it. He blushes up at Robby who looks at him like he’s something to eat. He bites his lip and Robby only smiles at him. 

 

“C’mon. Bedroom’s that way.” 

 

He’s never been to the bedroom. He knows that it’s on the first floor, since it’s easiest for Jack. Upstairs is reserved for Robby’s office, and two guest bedrooms. And the infamous hobby closet. Their bedroom has remained firmly closed off from him, a door he’s always glanced at when he would use the guest bathroom. 

 

Robby keeps one hand on his neck, always guiding, while Jack holds his hand, leading him out of the entryway and through the living room. 

 

Their room is illuminated by soft yellow light from lamps on their nightstands. The walls are a dark gray, with one wall taken up by farmhouse windows, cushioned by white curtains. Another wall has bookshelves that are filled with Jack’s various interests. There’s a mixture of pictures and knick-knacks on the wall and Dennis wants to know the story behind every single one of them. 

 

It’s cozy. It’s so them. It’s the warmest room he’s ever stood in. 

 

Drawn in by the bookshelf, he slips out of their grasp, taking it upon himself to pursue through the different options. His fingers trace the spines as he reads the titles briefly. He pauses over the Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. He remembers reading that one in high school and again in college. Arguing that he didn’t necessarily believe there wasn’t a God. Just a God that didn’t care about him. 

 

A hand curls around the back of his neck. He knows it’s Robby by the way his thumb finds the pulse point immediately. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

The question makes him turn back. The two are watching him like they’re waiting for him to run away screaming. Waiting for him to back out on them. A valid concern, he guesses. 

 

“I’d be better if everyone had less clothes on.” 

 

Jack actually laughs. Dennis grins. Robby just pulls him away from the books, back towards the coveted king sized bed. 

 

Robby sits first in the middle of the bed, and pulls Dennis down with him. He lets the older man maneuver him around until he’s got his legs curled around Robby’s waist. Jack curls up behind them, hands trailing down his spine and making him shiver. 

 

They start off slow. Kissing him gently on his lips, his neck, his collarbone. Small, butterfly-like kisses that have goosebumps raising on his skin. They’ve been watching him and his reactions, because they know exactly where to kiss him to get a rise out of him. All the little spots they’ve grabbed and pulled at for weeks. Every touch has him aching, and he can feel his cock stirring from it all. 

 

They get a little harsher after he lets out a particularly breathy sigh. Jack scratches the skin underneath his shirt oh so gently with his nails. Robby lets his teeth graze against his shoulder, and Dennis just knows he’s going to have a beard burn everywhere in the morning. It makes his hairs raise and he knows he’s not coming out of this night without a few marks on him. 

 

Jack keeps skimming the waistband of his jeans, teasing his finger around his skin. Robby keeps his face cupped with one hand and covers Dennis’s growing bulge with the other. 

 

But he wants more. He pushes up against Robby a little bit, and curls his hands around the bottom of his shirt. He starts to tug and Robby breaks the kiss off. 

 

“Easy,” Robby murmurs. “Easy, honey. We’re right here.” 

 

“You’re going too slow.” 

 

“Needy. Jack doesn’t like whiny boys, though. Better watch yourself.”

 

“He’s right.” Jack’s fingers trace the sides of Dennis’s torso and he shivers in response. “I don’t. And we’ve waited a while for this. We deserve the chance to enjoy it.” 

 

“Oh, and I don’t?” 

 

The smart reply gets him a swift slap on his ass. He bites back a whine and turns slightly to peer up at Jack over his shoulder. 

 

“You and that fucking mouth,” he scolds. “One day you’re going to push your luck and I’ll fix it for you.” 

 

That sounds like a great fucking time to Dennis. 

 

He relents a little bit, only because Jack leans down and kisses softly at his neck. He leans his head back against Jack’s shoulder with a huff. The kisses and heavy petting return, grips getting harsher. He gets a flash of Trinity and the staff of the PTMC in his head and he panics slightly. 

 

“No bruises,” he manages to get out as Jack nibbles softly on his skin. 

 

“I think we’re a little ways past that, baby,” Robby chuckles, glancing at the reddening marks on Dennis’s neck. “Besides, you’ll look so pretty marked up like this.” 

 

He’s losing his mind. The hands that have been grabbing at him, yanking him into rooms, making him dinner, pouring him wine, moving him around the Pitt are finally on his skin. They’re tracing the patterns of his moles from years of Nebraska summers. They’re squeezing his hips and cupping the back of his neck and he can’t stop whimpering at every piece of contact he gets. 

 

“You’re so fucking soft,” Jack groans. “I’ve been wanting to feel what you’re like under those damn scrubs and now that fucking excuse of a costume. Could barely keep my hands to myself whenever I gave you a shot.” 

 

The fact that they also felt a pull every time he flashed skin at them fills him with too much joy. They’re invading his space and claiming it as their own in a way he’s secretly wished they would. He didn’t really consider himself touchstarved until they were the ones touching him.

 

“Been thinking about this sweet body since your first shift,” Robby admits as he kisses Dennis's jawline. “Everytime you had to change your scrubs. I thought I was going to lose my mind.” 

 

“Was pissed he didn’t take pictures for me,” Jack chuckles darkly. “I saw you that night and knew you’d been driving him crazy all day. Then you jump to the night shift and I wasn’t sure how he ever kept his hands to himself.”

 

Dennis arches his back when Jack starts moving down his spine. They’re giving him too much and not enough. “More, please.” 

 

Jack groans. “God you sound so pretty like that.” 

 

“Please,” he pleads again. “I want to feel you too.”

 

They take a little pity on him. Jack leans back, away from the bed, and pulls his shirt off. He hesitates for a moment behind the two, a slight sigh coming from him. Robby glances over at his husband and Dennis turns with him. Jack’s gripping the top of his knee, his prosthetic, watching the younger man. Dennis realizes he’s waiting for a reaction. 

 

“Take it off,” Dennis says quietly. He doesn’t move his blue eyes from Jack’s form.  “I want to see you.” 

 

It’s clearly the right thing to say based on how Jack’s eyes get heated and Robby squeezes at Dennis’s hips. 

 

Once Jack is undressed, save his boxers, he waits for Robby to move before pushing Dennis down onto the bed, and rolling him over onto his back. His fingers gently brush underneath the lining of Dennis’s boxers. “You sure about this, baby?” 

 

Dennis reaches down and yanks the garment off himself in response. 

 

He blushes a little when the two men stare down at his halfway exposed body. It’s been so long since he’s been this indecent around anyone. He debates pulling the stupid shirt down to hide himself. 

 

“Such a pretty little thing,” Jack admires. “Isn’t he, Michael?”

 

“He is. And he’s so sweet about it too,” Robby responds, watching the way Dennis turns even redder. His eyes drift across his body, over the marks the two of them have left on him. He leans down, taking one of Dennis’s arms. “Up, sunshine. Just for a minute.” 

 

It’s instinct to go where they pull him to. He follows Robby’s lead and moves upright. He’s half kneeling on the back of his ankles, waiting. The older man tugs on the collar of his halfway ripped off shirt. 

 

“Let’s get this off of you, yeah?” 

 

It’s actually embarrassing that he only has to undo a few buttons before pulling the plaid shirt off and tossing it to the other side of the bed.

 

“Fucking Santos,” he hears Robby mumble to Jack. “I swear, I’m putting her on night shift for a month to get back at her.” 

 

He realizes very quickly just how naked he is in front of his two very married attendings. The panic must be evident in his eyes because Robby’s leaning down, hands on Dennis’s knees, forcing his legs apart. “Relax, Dennis. You’re okay.” 

 

“You’re doing good baby,” Jack reassures him.”Just want to look at you for a second.” 

 

Yeah, he might be the main course but that does not mean he wants to be eye candy right now. 

 

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” he whines, pawing a bit at Robby. Being exposed like this is too much. They’ve already felt him up plenty, he thinks, and looking at him doesn’t make much sense in his opinion. 

 

“Again, we’ve been waiting for you for a while now,” Jack says. He winks at the med student. “Just let us enjoy this.” 

 

Dennis is a little over the enjoyment phase. It must be evident on his face because Jack pulls him back down to the bed and lays him out flat on his back. He leans down slightly to kiss him. 

 

“You’re thinking too much,” Jack murmurs against his lips. 

 

“You and that damn head of yours,” Robby scoffs. “What’d I tell you? You need to slow down. You’re going to miss things if you don’t.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

He wishes he would shut his stupid fucking mouth because he looks really fucking stupid when Robby kneels down at the edge of the bed and wraps his lips around Dennis’s cock. 

 

“Damn. Fastest he’s ever stopped talking.” 

 

Dennis can’t even make a snappy remark at the smirking Jack because Robby’s mouth is on him. Robby’s mouth is on him and he is trying very hard not to cum down his boss's throat like a teenager who can’t contain himself. 

 

The same person who has been teaching him and having dinners with has his lips wrapped around his cock like it’s nothing. He watches Robby swallow around it, never breaking eye contact from Dennis and the poor dirty blonde just moans. 

 

“See? All that fuss and Mikey just wanted to do something nice for you.” 

 

Robby’s tongue slides over the slit of his cock and Dennis inhales sharply. Jack takes it as a chance to gently cup his balls and apply just the slightest bit of pressure. 

 

“One night, we’re going to get you on your knees and see how long it takes you to get us to come down your throat,” Jack says lowly in his ear. “I bet that smart mouth of yours knows how to perform under pressure.” 

 

Half of him wishes Jack was the one with his cock in his mouth. 

 

There’s a little bit of precum that slides out. Robby takes it easily, humming around Dennis’s length. He slides him out of his mouth, pumping his hand slowly but firmly, thumb swiping over his tip. “Can’t decide if I want you to come like this or on my cock.” 

 

“Oh, why not both?” 

 

Dennis' eyes widen and Jack laughs. “Fine, not both. Not tonight, at least.” 

 

There are simply too many plans being made that he was not aware of. He forces him to sit up, leaning back on his elbows. “Do I get a say in any of this?” 

 

“Sure. Whose fingers do you want?” 

Dennis tilts his head in confusion. 

 

“We’ve got to stretch you out first, sweetheart. We can be a lot.”

“I can take it.” 

 

They both laugh above him but he doesn’t care. He’s pretty sure if one of them don’t fuck him soon he’s going to start crying. Although with their track record, he’s sure part of them wants that to happen. 

 

“So needy,” Robby repeats himself. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.” 

 

You have no idea. 

 

“C’mere, baby.” Jack holds his hand steady in front of his mouth. “Open.” 

 

Dennis drops his jaw and lets Jack nestle two of his fingers in his mouth. He sucks on them, never breaking eye contact with the man, moaning around them, as Robby continues to brush his fingers down his sides, squeezing as he likes. 

 

“Good boy,” Jack breathes out. Dennis can’t help the way that the praise makes his cock jump a little. Jack raises a brow and it makes him want to bury himself under the covers. “Yeah? You like being our good boy?” 

 

Dennis nods, a little desperate, fingers still in his mouth. 

 

“Of course he does.” Robby kisses his forehead sweetly. “Such a good boy for us.” 

 

There’s no hiding from them. Not at work, not at their townhome, certainly not in their bedroom. They’re always going to find him and expose the deepest parts of himself. 

 

Certainly not when Jack removes his fingers, deeming them wet enough, and pushes him back down on the bed. “Spread your legs, sweetheart. There we go. Nice and slow, alright?” 

 

Dennis nods, face cherry red. Others had just grabbed a bottle of lube, going in halfway dry, and just letting it be. He had rarely been treated like this. Like something special and enjoyable. Something to tease and prep and delight in. 

 

Jack keeps his eyes on the younger man, and slowly works his pointer finger inside of Dennis’s hole. It’s a slight intrusion, and it takes a second for Dennis to remember to breathe. Jack slides it in carefully, halfway, then slides it out. 

 

When he pushes back in sharply, Dennis moans. Jack sets a steady, shallow pace that makes Dennis whimper. It’s right on the edge of enough, but still so far from it that he feels off kilter. 

 

Jack goes to add a second finger and he squirms in response. There’s more pressure and Jack can reach sections of him that he can’t with his own fingers. It’s incredible and terrifying. 

 

“You’re okay,” Robby soothes, reaching down and pinning him still by his hips. They were clearly enjoying him being forced to take them, however they chose. “How’s it feel, baby?” 

 

“Good. It’s- need more.” 

 

“More?” Jack repeats. He pushes his fingers in a little deeper and Dennis gasps. “Already? You’re insatiable, sweetheart.” 

 

He tries to snap a reply but Jack is faster. He starts moving quickly, sliding spit covered fingers in and out at a pace that has Dennis’s heart racing in time with it. It’s so much better than when Dennis had done it to himself, alone and desperate in his bed. Jack knows how to move in a way that Dennis can’t really understand. 

 

And he doesn’t want to. He just wants to enjoy the way his entire body feels lit up, pleasure running up his spine. When Jack hits a particularly sweet spot, his body jerks in response. Small little gasps escape his mouth with each thrust of Jack’s fingers. He’s getting closer and they must be able to tell. 

 

“Who do you want inside of you first, Denny baby?” Jack asks. 

 

He shakes his head. “Don’t care.” 

 

“Oh? So much for wanting to have a say in things. You don’t want either of us?” 

 

His retort is cut off when Jack curls his fingers up. He’s barely pressing against Dennis’s prostate and they both know it. Dennis flings an arm over his face to try to stop himself from moaning. They want his opinion now? When he’s pretty sure the second one of them is inside of him he’ll be coming all across their sheets? 

 

“What was that, sweetheart? You don’t want either one of us tonight?”

 

“Not what I said!”

 

“Yeah? You want us to pick for you?” 

 

“Please?”  he mumbles shyly.

 

Robby kisses his cheek softly as Jack slides in a third finger. Dennis gasps while Robby drags one finger along the length of his cock. “So sweet for us. Can’t even pick who he wants to have fuck him first.” 

 

He whimpers as Robby keeps tracing along his swollen dick. There’s so much precum leaking from him that he’s half convinced he came already and didn’t realize it. 

 

“You kissed him first and got your fingers in him. I’m fucking him first.” 

 

“Fine by me.” Jack pulls his fingers halfway out, then rams them back into Dennis’ hole, earning another moan. “I could play with him like this all night and be happy.” 

 

Dennis’s dick twitches at that notion. Of course they fucking notice. 

 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Getting finger fucked in this sweet little hole of yours?” Jack keeps moving his wrist in a way that just barely touches the edge of the wall of his prostate and it’s leaving him breathless. “Bet we could just keep you tied to the bed and play with you until you’re just a mess, hm?” 

 

“Another day,” Robby promises him as he wraps his hand around Dennis’s cock and pumps him lazily. “When we have time and can do it properly. Maybe get our mouth on you too and see if you can tell whose mouth is who.”

 

Why the fuck are they so damn filthy? Dennis can’t reply, too focused on trying not to come all over the bed. 

 

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” 

 

He nods with a slight moan. “D-don’t want to yet.”

 

“Yeah?” Robby taps his husband’s shoulder. “Come on. Don’t make him wait for it.” 

 

“He can use his words,” Jack huffs. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? What do you want?” 

 

“Want-fuck-” Jack curls his fingers again when he tries to speak. It’s cruel, and mean, and it’s making him dizzy. “Please, just want-” 

 

“We’re listening, Denny. Say the word and we’ll give it to you.” 

 

But Jack doesn’t play fair. Dennis opens his mouth to speak and he’s twisting his fingers up again, fucking in and out of Dennis and all that he can do it whine. It feels impossibly good and makes something in his stomach twist. 

 

“I want-” Jack thrusts his fingers against his prostate and Dennis gasps. “Want Robby to fuck me, please!” 

 

“Good boy, sunshine.” 

 

He mourns the loss of Jack’s fingers as soon as they slide out of him. He can feel a thin sheen of sweat across his body, almost like a low blood glucose. He half wonders if he is low but chooses to not think about it too much when Robby’s grabbing his hips and flipping him over to his stomach. 

 

Somehow, he just knows he’s safer here than any other time he’s gotten into a bed. They’ve spent weeks watching out for him and helping him. He trusts them, just barely, to do the same here. 

 

Jack moves to settle in front of him as Robby lines his cock up behind him. Dennis barely manages to push himself upright on his hands as Jack cups his face. 

 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again. 

He wants to roll his eyes and bang his fists on the bed until one of them is fucking him. Instead, Dennis nods but hastily says, “Yes, ‘m fine,” when Jack raises a brow at him. 

 

Verbal confirmation is apparently key to making them happy. He should’ve guessed that. 

“Ready?” Robby asks behind him. 

 

“He’s ready,” Jack confirms. 

 

Dennis’s breath catches when he feels the tip of Robby’s cock prodding at his entrance. Robby’s fingers spread him out slowly, keeping him open wide as he slowly pushes into Dennis. 

 

Robby’s thick. Wider than any of Dennis’s hookups, wider than Jack’s fingers. It makes him inhale sharply at the difference, the sting of it all. Getting the tip inside alone is a feat. Robby slips his cock in slowly and Dennis swears he can feel every single ridge and vein. 

 

When Robby bottoms out, Dennis lets out a whine so loud he’s sure that the windows rattle. 

 

In the months since he’s had sex, he’s almost forgotten what it feels like. The pressure, the closeness, the way it feels all encompassing to let someone inside of him. And Robby is…he’s big. He’s everywhere. Dennis can feel him, taste him, and it’s more than he’s ever felt before. 

 

“How’s he feel?” 

 

“Tight. Like you barely even stretched him.” 

 

“Fuck.” Jack leans down and kisses Dennis’s mouth. He chases after the older man when he pulls away, whining at the loss. He needs something to ground him. Jack thumbs at his pouting lip. “I know, baby, I know, but I want to hear you enjoying Michael’s cock.” 

 

Robby pulls out slowly, then slams his hips back against Dennis. He jolts forward against Jack’s chest, gasping at the motion. He does it again and Dennis just keens. Robby grabs at Dennis’s hips, holding him still, fingers bruising his skin. 

 

“Yeah?” Jack is smirking like an asshole. “Feel as good as you’ve been dreaming? Gotta be better than your sweet little fingers.” 

 

Dennis’s face is burning. He tries to bury his face in Jack’s hold but the man won’t let him, grabbing his cheeks between his fingers and forcing Dennis to look at him. 

 

“C’mon, honey.” Robby pulls out of his hole slowly, making Dennis feel every single inch of his cock, then thrusts in deeply. “Tell us how it feels. Use your words.” 

 

“Big,” he whimpers. Jack grins and squeezes his jaw again. “More than Jack’s fingers. Feels good.” 

 

“Yeah?” Robby snaps his hips forward again. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Like you’ve been waiting for this.” 

 

There’s something so different about this. Every other hookup was less than. Maybe it’s the tension finally breaking. Maybe it’s the fact that he really has been waiting for this moment for a while. Whatever it is, when Robby pushes into him, Dennis swears his vision goes a little blurry. 

 

“Fuck, Denny. You feel so good.” 

 

Dennis gasps at another harsh thrust. Jack’s entire face is lit up at his reactions. 

 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. He’s a lot, isn’t he? Had me limping the first time I had him.” 

 

There’s tears threatening to spill over from the pure ecstasy he’s feeling. He can feet Robby everywhere. Each time Robby sinks into him, it rubs his dick against the comforter below him. He’s half rutting against the comforter every time Robby thrusts into him. He wishes desperately that one of them would touch him but it’s clear from Jack’s face that he takes absolute delight in watching Dennis fall apart without any help. 

 

Robby’s so firm. His hands on Dennis’s hips, yanking his back half back against him, making sure he pushes his cock all the way into Dennis before pulling it back out. Dennis is never empty for more than a second before he’s getting filled again. He can feel Robby in his stomach with the way his cock is just bullying his insides. 

 

Every thrust brushes against perfect spots and it’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s-

 

“That’s it baby, good boy,” Jack praises as Dennis comes over the sheets. A few tears spill out as he does.“Good boy, Dennis.” 

 

Dennis whines at the praise, cock twitching in the aftermath of his orgasm. Robby’s still fucking into him from behind so he drops his head onto Jack’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. He can feel a hand running through his curls and it’s unbelievably comforting. 

 

“Good job, sweetheart,” Jack whispers as Robby keeps pounding into him, chasing his own release. “He’s close, gonna cum on your back, okay?” 

 

“Inside,” Dennis requests with his eyes closed. “Inside, please.” 

 

“Denny-” 

 

“Don’t act like you didn’t check with the blood work,” he mumbles. He can feel the smirk against his forehead as Jack kisses him quickly. 

 

“Alright.” He raises his voice slightly. “Hey, Robby, he said you can finish in him.” 

 

A thread of “JesusChristJackyoucantjustfuckingsaythat” spills out of Robby as his thrusts increase and Dennis’s clenches when he feels the rush of cum enter him. It shouldn’t get him hard again, but he can already feel his cock growing hard in the puddle of his own release. 

 

Robby pulls out slowly and Dennis whimpers at the loss. He can still feel the stretch from his cock. Robby keeps his cheeks spread and groans. “Fuck, Jack you gotta look at this.” 

 

Jack kisses his forehead again, and slides Dennis out of his grasp to join his husband down by Dennis’s ass. “Oh, fuck.”

 

Dennis whimpers when one of them catches a strand of cum leaking out and pushes it back into his hole. He flinches a bit at the way it makes him ache for more. 

 

“So pretty,” Robby coos. He rubs Dennis’s back in soft circles. “You look so pretty like this, sunshine.” 

 

“One day, I’m going to eat this out of you,” Jack promises behind him. “Sit here and lick you clean for hours.” 

 

Dennis just groans. His cock twitches underneath him against his will. 

 

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got a lot of plans for you.” 

 

“Where do you want him?” Robby asks, moving and going up by Dennis’s head. He picks his head up off of the bed to look at the dark haired man who just smiles at him. It makes him feel warm and a little more alert. 

 

“On his back. Wanna see that pretty face while I fuck him.” 

 

Robby puts his hands under Dennis’s arms and scoots him up just a bit. He’s halfway leaning on Robby’s chest before the man grabs his legs, placing his hands beneath his knees, and pins them up against Dennis’s chest. He should be embarrassed at the way he’s so exposed but all he can do is look at Jack stroking his cock, watching the way his husband’s cum dribbles lazily out of him. 

 

“You ready, baby?” 

 

Dennis just nods, not sure he can speak. 

 

“Hey.” Robby pinches at his skin. “Words, sunshine.” 

 

“Yes,” he whines. “‘M ready.” 

 

“Good boy,” Jack praises as he lines up against him. 

 

For all of Robby’s girth, Jack has length. It’s more in a way that he wasn’t expecting. He pushes in slowly, letting the cum act as a lube, and Dennis starts squirming before he’s even halfway in. He’s still a little on edge from the unexpected orgasm. He can’t decide if he loves or hates that he can feel every inch. 

 

“Easy, honey,” Robby soothes. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

 

“You’re so brave, Denny. Doing such a good job for us.” Jack pauses slightly, looking over his flushed features. “Need a second?” 

 

Dennis bites his lip but nods. “Sorry.” 

 

Jack reaches down and cups one hand around his cheek. Dennis leans into the touch on instinct. “None of that. Nothing to apologize for, okay?” 

 

He nods again, closing his eyes and taking a shaky inhale. He focuses on the way Robby is rubbing slow circles on his calf with his thumb. Jack’s fingers gripping against his thighs, applying just a little bit of pressure to stay balanced. The hand on his face, a finger thumbing at his cheek. 

 

It’s weird, trying to understand that even though he’s pinned down, he’s safe. They’re overcrowding him and he feels powerless but not helpless. He knows, somewhere deep in his bones, in a confidence he doesn’t have familiarity with, that they would never hurt him. 

 

His muscles unclench slightly, tensely. The small bit of panic he had felt leaves. He takes another deep breath. 

 

“Okay,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. “I’m okay.” 

 

“Let me see you,” Jack says firmly. He pats at his cheeks gently. “C’mon, Dennis.” 

 

Dennis opens his eyes, blinking slowly. Jack searches his face for any signs he’s lying, like he knows all of Dennis’s tells. At this point, he probably does. “You sure?” 

 

“I’m sure. Just-” he flushes again. “Slow? Please?” 

 

“Of course, sweetheart. Asking so nicely” 

 

He eases back, and pushes back into Dennis carefully. He hisses a bit, but when Jack is fully inside of him, he gasps at the fullness. It makes both men pause again, watching for his reaction. 

 

“Please,” Dennis moans. His voice is so high pitched and so needy that he doesn’t even recognize it.

 

It snaps Jack back into action. He starts moving his hips and thrusting in and out of Dennis in renewed vigor. His balls slap against the swell of Dennis’s ass and the poor dirty blonde is once again overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the men. Jack fucks him like it’s a race, like it’s his job to make sure Dennis can feel him everywhere tomorrow. 

 

His skin is heated. He can barely keep up with Jack’s thrusts and he’s barely able to breathe. He can feel his balls tightening, his dick an angry red from all the stimulation. Jack is reaching the parts of him Robby didn’t and every time he bullies his prostate Dennis can barely manage to hold back his high pitched moans. 

“You gonna come again, sunshine?” Robby asks from above him. Dennis can only let out soft little uh huh,uh huh, uh huhs. It makes the man grin. “Yeah? That good?” 

 

“Fucked him dumb in one night? God, he’s perfect,” Jack grunts. 

 

The statement makes his bottom lip jut out in a pout. Dennis tries to hide his face but Jack reaches down and pins his wrist to Robby’s chest with one hand. “No, no. Look at us, sweetheart. Look at us when you come.” 

 

They’re both watching him like it’s a fucking miracle he’s in between them. Their stares are overwhelming and he can’t decide if he hates or loves it. He can’t escape their eyes, not like this. 

 

He can feel the tears spilling over onto his cheeks. It’s part frustration, needing to come so badly again. It’s part embarrassment from being taken like this, in this position with no place to go. But it’s also because he feels so fucking good and he just can’t help it. 

 

“Oh, fuck,” Jack moans. Dennis hiccups a little at a harsher thrust. “Sweet little-fuck, Denny, you’re so good baby, doing so good.” 

 

“Want some help, baby?” Robby says, releasing one of his legs to wipe away the tears. Jack pushes his free hand down on his thigh to keep him in place, balancing himself easily without losing his pace as he keeps fucking into Dennis. 

 

Dennis nods pitifully. Robby smiles at him again, and reaches down to take his cock in his hand. 

 

Within a few strokes, Dennis comes all across his chest. He sobs at the release, waves of pleasure rolling over him, encompassing every inch of his being. He feels so light, so freeing, so good. He can’t do anything beyond feel and it makes him go limp in their hold. 

 

He barely even notices when Jack spills into him seconds later with a groan.  They all lay there, trying to catch their breath, and Dennis doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want them to stop, even if he’s not sure he can go again. 

 

Jack releases his hold on his hands first. Dennis hadn’t even realized that they’d fallen asleep until he feels the prickle of blood rushing back into them. He feels warm and light and heavy and sore. There’s bruises and red skin stinging across his body and he doesn’t care in the slightest. 

 

He closes his eyes and sighs softly. 

 

The other two maneuver him around, getting him to lay on his side, speaking quietly to one another in an attempt to not bother him. Someone is scratching his head. He hears a door creak, and then there’s a warm sensation down by his ass. He whines, kicking a bit, but whoever it is catches his limb and pins it down.

“Relax, Denny. Let me clean you up, honey.” 

 

It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but he thinks it feels slightly better when Robby’s done. There’s more whispered conversations and he wishes they would just decide if they were going to kick him out or not so he could sleep. 

 

Someone slips a clean pair of boxers onto his legs, and lifts his hips up enough to pull them all the way on. The sheets are clean and dry when he lays back down, softer than before. He burrows into it, moving over to his stomach. 

 

Whoever was scratching his head stops to pull at his arm and he huffs at it. There’s a small chuckle that he knows belongs Jack. 

 

“Easy, baby boy.” He can feel his hand being moved. “Just gonna check really quick, okay?” 

 

He hums. He can feel the prick of a needle and a gentle squeeze of his finger. “What ‘bout the monitor?” 

 

“We want to be careful. That was a lot and we’d feel better if it was as accurate as possible.” 

 

“Mm. ‘kay.” 

 

One of them chuckles at his response. 

 

Apparently it’s too low for their standards because he’s getting nudged again a few minutes later. He opens one eye, still curled into a tight ball on the bed. Jack’s sitting up above him, glass of juice in hand with a straw poking out of it. Dennis groans. 

 

“I know. Just a few sips, okay?” 

 

He shakes his head. “No.” 

 

“Denny.” Jack sounds amused. “You have to, sweetheart. You’re too low.” 

 

“Do it later.” 

 

“Do it now and then you can go back to sleep.” 

 

So they aren’t kicking him out. That’s good news. 

 

Huffing, he pushes himself up on his hands, refusing to sit upright fully. He lets Jack place the straw between his lips and he drinks half of it before it’s getting pulled away from him. 

 

“Good. Now this.” It’s another glass, now full of water. Dennis rolls his eyes but sips it too until Jack decides it’s enough and moves it. “There we go. You can go back to sleep, angel.” 

 

That’s a new one, Dennis muses as he collapses back onto the bed, face smushing into the pillow. Angel. How funny. He’s never been compared to an angel before. 

 

Someone’s still petting his hair as he closes his eyes and drifts off for the final time. 

Notes:

if this is bad just boo me in the comments okay I'm sorry

I am a bullcock Robby and horsecock Jack believer. idc

happy thanksgiving!

Chapter 13

Notes:

I hit post chapter and I never look back btw. Who tf wants to beta read this shit for me

Dennis pancis and contemplates and panics again

Surely God does not reject one who is blameless or strengthen the hands of evildoers. - Job 8:20 

After years of fearing a change in breathing meant his family had been Raptured, Dennis is a light sleeper. The slightest change in the heat coming on, the apartment across from his unit making noise, even alarms from other dorms in college meant he would wake up and maybe, hopefully fall back asleep. 

There’s enough of a sound to wake him from his deep sleep. He shifts slightly, and someone’s arm is curled around his waist, pinning him in place. Which is odd since the one time Trinity fell asleep next to him on the couch she nearly kicked him off. And he hasn’t shared a bed with someone in years. 

He opens his eyes and blinks a few times to adjust his sight. The curtains are drawn but he can still see the small stream of sunlight coating the room. 

There’s an outline of a person moving around in the darkness of the room. A slight fear jumps through him before he realizes the person is just Robby. His body relaxes for a moment. 

And then he bolts up in the bed, Jack’s arm lying across his stomach. 

Robby jumps a bit, and swears lowly when he hits something. The noise makes Jack groan from beside Dennis. 

“Michael, c’mon. I have work tonight too.” He cracks one eye open to see Dennis looking very pale above him. “Oh.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“No, Denny, come on,” Jack tries, yawning, attempting to pull him back down. He clearly has more important things on his mind. “We already did this.” 

“I told you he was going to freak out,” Robby retorts from across the room. 

“You want an award?” 

“Sure. I’ll take it in the form of you ordering food to work. Since you decided to sleep in and not feed me” 

“Oh my god. I shouldn’t have-fuck I shouldn’t have stayed over, I’m sorry-” 

“Dennis.” Robby manages to slide his scrub top on before glancing over at him. He doesn’t look annoyed, which should calm Dennis down. It doesn’t. “You’re okay.” 

“I should have left. It’s my fault.” 

“Dennis, you were not going to go home after that.” Robby tilts his head. “You were a mess.” 

“I was fine!” 

“Sweetheart,” Jack says below him. His eyes are still closed. “You passed out in bed before we could even try to get you to the shower.” 

Rude. He had the best sex of his life and they expected him to stay awake after? 

“We wanted you to stay. We wanted to keep an eye on you after all of that.” 

“Oh.” That kinda, sorta makes sense. “Okay.” 

Jack yanks him back down, curling his arm around his torso to pin him back into place. “Relax. You don’t have to work today. Go back to sleep. I’ll take you home whenever.” 

“Now is fine.” 

Robby laughs quietly as his husband opens one eye to glare at the younger boy. “What did I just say?” 

“No, really. Trinity’s going to be up soon and-” his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck, where’s my phone?” 

“I think-” Robby nudges the pile of clothes from the night before. “Yep. Here, honey.” 

He tosses the phone to Dennis, who sits upright again, ignoring Jack’s grumble as he does. Unlocking the device, his heart drops when he sees the amount of missed messages and phone calls. 

Trinity has the most, with almost thirty. 

You ditched us for a booty call???

Victoria is in tears thanks i’m not any good at this shit

Well i think that’s mateo’s fault but also cassie said something to her so i don’t know

Are you coming home tonight? 

I swear to god, if you’re dead in a ditch I’m going to give your room to Victoria 

Victoria, Samira, and Mel have equally high numbers, and he does feel a little bad. He remembers the look on Mel’s face when he had left the bar. How worried she’d been. He decides against calling, not wanting to risk someone hearing something they shouldn’t. He sends a text in their group chat. 

I’m alive. Do not call the police. Stayed with a friend. Everyone calm down.

There. It won’t stop any fires from being spread, but at least the forest won’t burn down. He only has to face Trinity tonight and he can handle being yelled at by the person who once almost burnt down their kitchen trying to make microwaveable macaroni. 

“Everything alright?” 

He looks up at Robby, who’s paused in his movements to watch Dennis. 

“Yeah. Yeah, they’re freaking out, of course, but I did ditch them and get into a car with a total stranger, so-” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Wait, you got into a car with that guy?” That wakes Jack up, who apparently decides it’s easier to give up on sleep than try to go back to it. He rolls over slightly but keeps his hand on Dennis’s exposed thigh. 

Dennis makes a ‘duh’ face at him in response. “How do you think I got here?” 

“Honestly, I didn’t think about it.” Jack rubs his face with his free hand. “I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

Robby’s arms are crossed over his chest and it makes Dennis shrink in on himself a bit. “Does all common sense leave your body when it’s time for you to make a decision? Or does it just happen when you’re making a decision regarding your wellbeing?” 

Cruel but fair. 

But he’s not one to go down without a fight. “Am I really getting lectured about this? After you both were committing massive human resources violations last night?” 

“Didn’t realize that we fucked at the hospital,” Jack yawns.  

The wording throws him off. Another fresh wave of panic and guilt and something sour washes over him. “Oh my god-” 

Jack pinches his thigh. “Knock it off.” 

“Dennis, honey,” Robby at least sounds amused by his continued freak out. “You have to stop panicking every time we talk about it.” 

“Sorry. You’re right. I have to think about being normal at work. I swear, I won’t tell anyone. We can pretend it never happened. I can pretend it never happened.” 

“That’s not what I said.” 

Dennis frowns. “I mean, no? But I can be discreet, I’m not an idiot.” 

“No, I just mean-” Robby sighs. “Jack, baby? You want to add something to this?” 

Jack’s hand finds the exposed skin of Dennis’s back and starts tracing circles with his nails. “Nope. You’re doing great.” 

“Dennis, we’re not asking you to be discreet. We’re not even asking you to forget about last night.” 

He looks at Robby, then down at Jack, then at the door. He doubts they could catch him if he just started sprinting. He’s decently fast. But then again, he’s near naked, so that wouldn’t be a good look.

So instead, he pulls his knees up to his chest. 

“I think I have a few questions.” 

Jack groans, but sits up slowly. “Okay. Jesus. Fine. Give me a few minutes to put something on the stove.” 

“Oh, so now you get up.” 

“You want to have this conversation without any caffeine in you? Besides, he’s got to eat and get his shot in.” 

Dennis does in fact need to do that. He had nearly forgotten. 

“I can help,” he volunteers as Jack slides out of bed and moves to slide on his prosthetic. “I don’t mind.” 

Jack eyes his body up and down. “You might want to shower first.” 

Dennis glances down at the remnants of dried cum between his legs. More must’ve slipped out while he slept. He can feel his cheeks burning when he looks back up to meet Jack’s smirking face. 

“You can use our bathroom. Towels are under the sink.” 

“Thanks.” He pauses, looking at the two of them. “Can I just-?” 

“We’ve already seen everything, sweetheart. Go ahead.” 

Pushing the covers off, he moves as quickly as he can and nearly slams the bathroom door shut behind him. He purposefully ignores the soft laughter he can hear through the walls. 

Mainly because when he looks over at himself in the mirror, he has to slap his hand over his mouth to not start screaming. 

He looks bad. Not bad. Just….yeah, bad. 

There’s a mixture of red, blue, and purple bruises across his neck and down his chest. When he turns slightly, he can see the way the marks wrap around his entire body in a constellation of older men with no restraint. He barely recognizes the thing in the mirror. 

It’s a thoroughly fucked out Dennis Whitaker. 

And he doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he just starts up the shower with the hope that maybe cold water will make them disappear faster. As if he’s not a MS4 who knows better. 

The muscles in his leg ache and he has to fight off a semi when he remembers why. He debates waterboarding himself in the shower over processing his actions. Only because he would rather die in the streets than have his obituary explain that he died after a threesome at his bosses house, he decides not to. 

Unfortunately, the aches and bruises are helpful in reminding him that it did happen. That he wasn’t hallucinating. He came over to the townhome and let weeks of sexual tension finally burst. He did in fact get fucked to tears by the married couple who couldn’t keep their hands off of him. 

They didn’t kick him out. They cleaned him up and made sure his blood glucose wasn’t too fucked up. There’s still a tang of apple juice on his tongue. 

So it was real. He could confirm that. 

Real enough that they don’t expect him to stay silent about it. Which, clearly, is insane, and cannot happen. If anybody at PTMC or school finds out about this, he can kiss graduation goodbye. 

Hell, if Trinity or the others find out about it, he’s fucked. If a whisper is even started, if someone saw him leave work with Robby, or if someone else at the hospital lived on the street and had seen something they weren’t supposed to…

He’s starting to have a small anxiety attack when someone knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Quit spiraling in there. I can only be so late for work, kid.” 

It's a gentle reminder that pulls him out of it. “Sorry, Robby! Be out soon.” 

It’s embarrassing that he can tell which shampoo belongs to who based on the scent alone. But he steals it anyway and tries not to get too giddy about it. 

There’s a small pile of clothes on the bed for him. He hadn’t been too keen on wearing his Halloween getup on the way out the door. It’s one of Jack’s sweatpants, and one of Robby’s sweaters that he loves so much. Dennis does not pick them each up to inhale them deeply.

Across the hall, there’s sounds of low conversation and Jack moving around in the kitchen. Scents of whatever Jack was making had started to fill the space. Dennis snags his phone off of the bed and checks his blood glucose on the app before looking at any new messages. 

Samira: Oh, sorry we give a shit

Samira: that was mean but i didn’t mean it that way. We were just worried. You’re usually the best texter

Victoria: wrong, mel is the best texter but you’re a close second Whitaker 

Mel: 🙂

Victoria: has anyone seen my wallet? 

Trinity: ended up in my bag. I will use it if you all don’t shut the fuck up so i can sleep

Samira: you’re the one who refused to leave with us at 2

Trinity: worth it. stfu 

He just rolls his eyes. They’re nothing short of dramatic and annoying. 

Tucking his phone into his back pocket, he leaves the bedroom and pads down the hallway on bare feet. 

In the kitchen, Robby’s pouring three cups of coffee as Jack stands busy at the stovetop. The now November chill has left the windows frosted. It’s still dark outside, but he can see the sunrise starting over the line of trees across the street. 

It’s not the worst start to his morning. 

“Here, I already got your shot prepped.” Robby motions for him and Dennis is moving his feet before he can even think about it. “I’m giving you a little more so we can go ahead and work on beating that post lunch spike.” 

“Which will work if you eat. If you don’t, you’re going to get low,” Jack reminds him as he starts plating the food. 

Dennis just rolls his eyes as Robby slides the bottom of the sweater up to expose his stomach. “I know.” 

“Yeah, you say that, but we all know how you work and how you’ll take any opportunity to avoid taking care of yourself.” 

Would it be too childish to just stick his tongue out at the man? They really needed to move on from the topic. He’s well aware that he’s bad at taking care of himself. Last he checked, he was the one suffering for it. 

“He’s cranky when his sleep schedule is messed up. He’ll be nicer in about ten minutes," Robby murmurs in his ear while he slides the needle into Dennis’s skin. 

“I fucking heard that.” 

Dennis bites back a smile as Robby winks at him. 

There’s a different intimacy with how close the older man is as he takes care of Dennis. It’s more familiar than the night before. It’s not clinical with how he makes sure all of the medicine goes into Dennis before sliding the needle out. Or with how he pauses, fingers warm against Dennis’s skin to make sure there’s no bit of insulin or blood coming out before he lowers the shirt again. 

Dennis slides into his usual spot and eagerly accepts the mug in front of him. Jack slides him a full plate and taps it. “All of it.” 

The couple go over the cases that Robby had left behind yesterday after work. It had been Jack’s night off, but he had been the one that had handed them off to Robby in the first place. 

Dennis listens halfheartedly, trying to focus on not inhaling his food. Jack might have been a little mean about it but he was correct in his assumption that Dennis was in desperate need of food. 

Great. They fucked him into having an appetite. Was that their plan all along? Get him cockdrunk and hungry so that he had to eat and take insulin? 

That tracked, actually. 

He ends up finishing before both of them. The mug in front of him steals his attention as he absent mindedly starts tracing the lip of it. He needs something to ground him. 

His mind is just a little blank and he’s not quite sure why. It could be from the best night of sleep he’s gotten in months if not years. It could also be the still energy of the morning in a home that isn’t his own. Or it could be the fact that he did in fact get his shit rocked. 

When he shifts slightly in his chair, he winces, and it snaps the other two out of their conversation. 

“You okay, honey?” Robby asks, concern written all over his face. 

Dennis can feel the blush in his cheeks. “Yeah. I’m just…a little sore. That’s all.” 

“You want something for it?” Jack offers. Dennis shakes his head because he would rather die than take pain killers for his sore ass. 

“No, I’m fine. It’s just been a while.” 

“And you wanted to go in with no prep.” Jack rolls his eyes and blows on his own coffee. “Impatient little thing.” 

Dennis purses his lips and tries not to die on the spot. 

Robby takes pity on him and leans forward in his chair. Conversation with Jack forgotten, he watches the way Dennis’s hand trembles as he moves his glassware around. 

“Okay. You wanted to talk. What questions do you have?” 

He has a mental list. It’s about eighteen pages long. But when he opens his mouth, the first one that falls out is, “Are you sure you’re both okay with last night?” 

“Honey, we told you-” 

“I know. I know what you told me. But do you understand why I might not…why that might be a little insane for me to hear?” 

“No,” Jack says boredly. He shrugs at the glares he gets in response. “You act like you weren’t aware of how badly we wanted you.” 

“I wasn’t. I mean-” Dennis rubs his arm a little. “I was hopeful, sure. Maybe not hopeful. I noticed, but I just wasn’t sure.” 

Jack tilts his head. “You think your little flirting went unnoticed?” 

Dennis thinks about baking and complaining about wines and half naked selfies. 

“Okay, so if you both knew, why didn’t you say something earlier? Why wait until I’m over here causing a scene to do anything?” 

That catches them off guard. They exchange a quick look with each other. Clearly they haven’t had the time to discuss that little issue themselves. Or they had and he wasn’t privy to the answer. 

Robby sighs, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Let’s just keep it simple for right now. We enjoyed ourselves last night. Did you?” 

“Yes.” 

He says it too quickly. Robby tries and fails to hide a smile. Jack doesn’t bother hiding his glee. 

“Okay. Was there anything that happened that you didn’t like?” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, everything was great.” 

“Alright. We agree. So if there’s the chance of it happening again, would you want to?” 

Now he’s blindsided. What a fucking question to give him after fucking him to sleep and feeding him breakfast. 

Go back to their bed? 

Yes. No. Yes, absolutely. 

Robby nods slowly at his hesitation. “Okay. We would be fine with it. Right, Jack?” 

“Absolutely.” Jack watches Dennis carefully. “I’d be fine to go again right now.”

Dennis ignores the teasing remark. He’s too sore and too confused for another round. Even if his dick twitches in interest. 

“It’s just…” He slides his glass back and forth between his hands on the countertop. The couple gives him a few moments to gather his thoughts. “It’s a lot. That’s a lot. I mean, what? Are you two just bored and looking for a third?” 

Jack shakes his head. “Not necessarily.” 

“A long term arrangement? Short term? A sugar baby? Like-” the glass is gaining momentum. “What do you want out of this?” 

“You.” Robby says it without a second’s thought. Jack only nods in agreement. 

He snorts, holding the glass still. “That can’t be it.” 

They both look at him like there’s no other answer to give. 

“So what is this?” 

Robby shrugs. “Whatever you want it to be, sunshine. We’re not picky.”

An invitation to their bed is hard to turn down. He’d be lying to all of them if he said he didn’t want it to happen again. A chance to feel as good as he did last night. To just let go for a second and not have to think. 

But it’s also a chance to fuck up. If he doesn’t do what they like, when they like it, if they get too far into it and realize how fucked up he actually is. Sex is difficult with a diabetic, shown in the way he dropped last night. Sex with their med student is difficult. And Dennis isn’t sure how many rejections he can handle before he breaks. 

He doesn’t know what he wants it to be. They clearly don’t either but he doesn’t really want to write the rulebook on this. That’s too much responsibility that he can’t handle right now. Ever. If they don’t even know what they want, how can they expect him to figure it out?

“Can I think about it?” he asks quietly. 

“Denny, baby, of course.” Robby leans across the table and takes his hand in his grasp. “Take all the time you need.” 

“There’s no rush,” Jack says calmly. “It’s up to you, sweetheart.” 

He nods warily. That might be true. But he’s also well aware that in the weeks it took them to get him into bed, they’ll be eagerly awaiting a response. 

Robby glances at his watch and swears lowly. “Dana’s going to fucking kill me. I better go before I’m any later.” 

“Sorry.” 

Robby squeezes Dennis' hand in response as he stands. “Worth it, angel. Don’t rush out of here. Jack doesn’t have anything to do today anyway.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Pretty sure I do.” He leans down to kiss his husband on the lips, and, after a slight pause, kisses Dennis on his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow,okay? Let me know if you need anything before then.” 

Dennis just nods, a little dazed. 

He helps Jack clean the kitchen up after Robby goes. He tries to get Dennis to go take a nap on the couch, but he feels guilty for not cleaning himself up last night or treating his blood glucose himself. He wants to do something to remind them he’s capable of being an adult. 

They keep the conversation simple. Talking about work and books is easier. It always has been. 

Neither one addresses the fact that Dennis has a noticeable limp with his motions. Or that when he reaches up on his tiptoes to put away a dish, there’s a littering of bruises that become visible. 

Ignorance is bliss. Or lack of knowledge is destructive, as if Dennis could stop himself from thinking of Scripture at the worst possible times. 

Knowing Trinity is probably still in bed makes Dennis go ahead and ask for a ride home sooner rather than later. He’d rather postpone the grief of that conversation. If the night shift doctor is disappointed by it, he doesn’t let it show. Just waits while Dennis gathers his things and holds the door open for him as they vacate the townhome. 

It’s a short ride back to his apartment. No one is on the road this early on a Saturday morning, especially the morning after Halloween. Dennis absentmindedly wonders how many leftover holiday cases will exist for his shift tomorrow 

Jack parks the car a street away, like always, and lets the engine run. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’m alright. I swear. I think I just-I just need a second to catch my breath.” 

“Okay.” He doesn’t look like he believes Dennis, but he’s letting it slide. Which Dennis knows is secretly killing him to do. “Eat something later on. And call if you need anything. You dropped really low last night. Just take it slow today.” 

“I will.” 

“To which?” 

“All of it, Jack. I swear.” 

“We’ll see about that.” He reaches out and ruffles Dennis’s ever growing curls. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Call if you need to.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He opens the door to the truck before he can do something insane like lean over for a kiss. Jack waits for him to get to the front door of the apartment building before putting the car in drive and heading back home. 

There’s remnants of trick or treaters all over the hallways. Glitter, split wrappers, threads from costumes, and one unfortunate pile of melted chocolate decorate the carpets. He’s almost sad that he missed the fun. He never got to celebrate Halloween as a kid. It’s half the reason Trinity had dragged him out in the first place. 

Their apartment is blissfully quiet when he first opens the door. He shuts and bolts the door, trying not to make any noise. He decidedly goes to their closet that holds the laundry machines and starts up a load with his clothes from the night before. Evidence is at least somewhat hidden that way. 

He’s half convinced he might be fine until he turns into the living room to find his roommate spread out across the couch. She’s got various snacks on the coffee table and her water bottle cradled in her arms. She moves her attention from the TV screen to him when she hears him enter. 

Trinity stares at him. Her eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping as she hones in on his neck. “Jesus H. Christ, Huckleberry. You look like you just came off of a porn set.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, feeling the red rise all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Holy shit. Did that hookup leave you unmarked anywhere?” 

“Trinity,” he whines. “It’s not even that bad!” 

She scoffs, sitting upright. “Oh, it’s bad. It’s concerningly whorish. You must bruise like a peach.” 

“I was going to ask how your night went but I just decided I don’t care.” 

A door creaks open down the hallway. Their heads both snap towards the sound and one of the girls that Dennis had seen hanging off of Trinity at the bar comes creeping down the hall. 

The poor brunette’s cheeks turn pink as she spots the two roommates. Her eyes pause on the scattered bruises on Dennis’s neck. “I thought you said you were single?” 

“He’s just my roommate,” Trinity promises. “I think your shoes are by the front door. Want me to call you an Uber?” 

“Already done. Thanks for uh-” she looks at Dennis again. “Yeah. See you later.” 

The girl practically sprints out of the room. Dennis doesn’t even think she puts on her shoes before she’s slamming their apartment door shut. He looks down at Trinity, who just shrugs, looking a little too proud of herself. 

“That’s how my night was. Not nearly as exciting as yours, though.” 

“You didn’t even want to walk her out? Give her a kiss goodbye?” 

“Not everyone wants to be mauled in appreciation before leaving.” 

He just flips her off before heading down the hall to his room. 

“I’m starving by the way! Are you making something for lunch or should I DoorDash?” 

“Should’ve had your girlfriend UberEats something! You can suffer for a little longer!” 

She grumbles a response that he can’t hear as he shuts his bedroom door. He leans his head back against the wood, and takes a deep breath in. 

Half of him wonders if he should shower again. But he likes that he faintly smells like the men who he spent the night with. If not for their clothes, the faint sandalwood and green apple scents from their bathroom. 

It’s comforting as he goes and lies down in his bed. Robby’s sweatshirt from the other week is still laying in the midst of the sheets. Something giddy fills him when he realizes he now has a small collection of their clothes. Like there’s proof beyond the marks on his body that will fade. Proof of them, of him being with them. 

Dennis rolls over onto his side and stares out the window. 

They’d want an answer from him sooner rather than later. 

Apparently from Pittfest and beyond, they had been hoping something like this would happen. They initiated it. As much as he wanted to pretend that his actions alone had led to last night’s consequences, they had been the ones to get him into bed. 

One of the many issues is that he doesn’t know how long they’ll want him around. He’s of use now, he’s something fun and different. And they had enjoyed it enough to ask him to consider doing it again. He had been decent enough that they wanted another round. 

Selfishly, he should consider his own wants. A place where he felt safe. Two men who wanted to fuck him. Someone who could look out for him and his diabetic needs. 

But that’s where he gets confused. He was getting so much out of this proposed arrangement. More than he ever thought he would. They were only asking for his body. They weren’t asking for anything beyond that. 

Which is probably best. He can’t imagine giving over much else. 

So why him? Why him? Why?

Sleep washes over him before he can even get close to a conclusion. 

When he wakes up, there’s a late afternoon glow around his room. He sighs into the blankets and rolls back over to face the door. It’s quiet around the apartment, and he’s positive Trinity took a nap too in order to fight her hangover. He lingers for a minute and lets his body feel the aches and blinks away confusion. 

The normal shakes and numb tongue of a low blood glucose are upon him. He glances at his phone and huffs when he realizes that he slept straight through lunch, nearing dinner. 

Jack’s going to kill him. Robby, too. 

There’s too many things to do with such little daylight left. So he counts to five, and makes himself move. Goes into the kitchen and grabs some juice to sip on. He picks up the stranded scrubs and clothes around his room, and the ones that Trinity leaves scattered across the apartment. He starts a load of laundry, knowing it won’t wake his roommate. 

He falls into the rhythm of it like he’s doing farm chores again. Cleaning out the fridge and doing the dishes isn’t nearly as taxing as farmwork. It’s still nice, having something to make his hands and body do. 

It’s distracting, too. 

Trinity wakes up a little over an hour later and they argue for all of ten minutes before agreeing to go to the store together. He takes the compromise as a win because he honestly isn’t sure he wants to be alone with his thoughts in the car. 

Something he takes back the moment Trinity opens her mouth. 

“So who did you go home with anyway?” 

The car is moving too quickly for him to throw himself out of it. 

“Just someone. They came and picked me up from the bar.” 

“Mhm. And that was…?”

“I am not giving you details.” 

“Why not? I gave you mine!” 

“Yours walked out of your bedroom halfway dressed. Mine dropped me off so I didn’t have to do the walk of shame.” 

“Oh, so you did get down and dirty?” 

“Do you want to focus on not killing us instead of making me uncomfortable?" 

She turns without using her blinker. “Nope. I would prefer to have answers when you come in looking like a vampire’s victim.” 

“I am not watching Twilight. No matter how many times you bring it up.” 

“If I offer to suck a spot on your neck, would you change your mind?” 

She does, mercifully, back off once they’re in public. 

Trinity is the perfect distraction. She puts things into the shopping cart that they don’t need, including two bottles of wine that make Dennis gag. His palette has apparently been reformed and refined in the last few weeks. Robby and Jack spend a minimum of two hundred a bottle. They’ve spoiled him. 

She tries to argue with him over the need for the discounted Halloween candy until he gives in and puts three bags in, knowing damn well it’ll be gone in a week. Everytime he tries to stick to his half assed list, she’s fucking it up by placing something they simply do not need in the cart. 

She’s no help in the kitchen either. She sits on top the table, ignoring his pointed stare at the empty chairs, stuffing her face with the various candies as he attempts to make something with vegetables for her to consume. 

“At the very least, can I get the name of the person who decorated your neck? Maybe I want to enjoy their bed too.” 

Something about the image of Trinity in Robby and Jack’s bed makes him laugh hysterically until she’s pelting him with candy. 

“Not happening. For multiple reasons, I’m afraid.” He opens the fridge, searching for one of the ingredients they just bought. “Besides, you clearly liked that girl from last night. It’s her, what? Third time around?” 

“Are you keeping track of my hookups? That’s weird.” She's snappy but her face is red. 

“Three times for you is akin to asking her to move in. I’ve never seen you with the same chick twice.” 

“You are keeping track. That’s so freaky, Huckleberry.” 

It’s not. It’s the undiagnosed OCD that he is starting to think might get diagnosed if he keeps up showing his hand in front of the two attendings. 

“Just saying. I’ll show you mine if you hang out with yours in broad daylight. Maybe invite her over for dinner.” 

“Maybe one day. I don’t think I’m that interested in your sex life.” She tilts her head as he shifts and Robby’s sweater rides up and exposes his bruised hips. “Well. At least not for much longer. I bet you’re one night away from a sex related injury I have to treat.”  

He throws one of the Kit-Kats back in her face. 

They argue over what to watch during dinner for all of five minutes before Trinity puts it on some horror movie that she hadn’t been able to watch during the Halloween season. Between his still sore body and growing ball of anxiety in his stomach, he doesn’t really care what it is. It could have been Twilight for all he cared. 

In the quiet of the living room, Dennis tries to focus on the TV screen. It doesn’t take long for his mind to wander. 

Neither Robby nor Jack had messaged him all day. He’d half expected a question (or lecture) about the blood glucose drop he had after sleeping through lunch, but they were giving him the space he’d requested. 

It shouldn’t annoy him, but it does. He doesn’t think they’ve gone this long - meaning twelve ish hours - without saying something to him. There’s an expectation to see something from either one of them on his phone when he checks it. 

That’s part of the issue. He hates being alone. He hates it. He’s so sick of feeling like there’s no one to talk to. He feels like he barely fits into the group that Trinity has fostered. The attention, in any form, feels good. 

And he can’t do that. He can’t find his joy in the two men. He’s already put his faith into one being that decided he wasn’t loveable once. If he plays into this, inevitably, there was going to be a day when he wasn’t enough, or that they wanted more that he couldn’t offer. 

Then what? Then he’s ruined a professional relationship with everyone in emergency med. He can say goodbye to working at PTMC altogether, maybe even say goodbye to his career. 

He can’t figure out what’s itching at him until he drags himself back to his room post movie. Trinity had fallen asleep on the couch and he didn’t have the kindness in his heart to wake her back up. He shuts his door and lets his eyes wander around, trying to find what has him so unsettled, until he sees it. 

Sitting on the edge of his desk, unmoved from the day he unpacked his things, is his small leather Bible. 

For some reason, he moves towards it and flips to one of the more worn out pages. He can’t remember the last time he opened it. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for until his hands freeze over a passage from Luke. Highlighted from years ago. 

Give to everyone who begs from you, and from the one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. 

It makes him collapse onto the bed and has the springs creaking. He reads it over and over and over. 

Robby and Jack might not know what they want from him now. They will soon enough. All he has to do is keep playing their little game. He can give. He can give and expect nothing in return. 

He’s good at it. 

Then, if he keeps up with it, then when they figure out what else they want, he might be able to give it to them. Maybe he can figure it out before they do and win. Maybe he can convince them to keep him around longer. 

He decides that it can’t possibly be that bad of an idea. He used to frequent strangers' beds. At least this one belonged to a couple he knew. 

Dennis grabs his phone and texts their little group chat. 

Dinner tomorrow? I’ll bring an overnight bag this time.

Notes:

Thank you for the support for the last chapter bc your girl was PANICKING.

I'm on tumblr now! Feel free to come chat or ask questions or send hate - blueangelbby

Smut next chapter don't worry.

Chapter 14

Notes:

I don't like her but I have a pile of finals that I have to start on at some point

I still dread all my sufferings, for I know you will not hold me innocent. Since I am already found guilty, why should I struggle in vain? - Job 9:28-29

 

His shift on Sunday has him so anxious that it bleeds into his sleep schedule. He wakes up every hour on the hour. Tossing and turning, he’s irritated by the time his alarm does go off. 

 

Getting dressed and prepping his bag is a chore. He mixes up his scrubs and can’t find his wallet. The bagel he tries to make is burned and he just throws it away. It’s not like his stomach was going to let him eat anyway. He runs around the apartment looking for a shoe that is in his left hand the entire time. 

 

He should not be this stressed about having to look at Robby and Jack in the eyes to the point of no sleep. He shouldn’t be. Not when half of this is his fault. 

 

Trinity is, thankfully, also in a shitty mood since her hook up from Halloween had yet to text her back. She remained dead silent for the entire car ride, not even making fun of Dennis when he fell asleep in the passenger side for a few minutes. Telling her he’s going to be gone again will be an enjoyable conversation. 

 

The closer they get to PTMC, the more panicked he gets. 

 

What exactly do you say to your bosses after spending a night in their marital bed and agreeing to be the third again? 

 

What if they didn’t address it? What if they lied and he was on his way to getting fired and he didn’t know it? What if he had actually gotten into a car wreck and hit his head and imagined the whole thing? 

 

For once, he wishes Trinity would say something to get his mind off of his predicament. But she only groans when she sees how full the parking lot is once they arrive. He’s sure there’s one too many Halloween leftovers waiting for them. Jack had been too busy to text a response to him last night. Robby was the one that sent a message instead. 

 

Sounds great. 

 

He had spent an unnecessary amount of time trying to dissect the tone of the text like a Bible verse. 

 

Turns out he had every reason to be anxious. The second he turns the corner after tucking his belongings away, Robby and Jack are in his line of sight at the charge station. Their gazes shift like they just knew it was him, and he tries to avoid looking at them as he goes to Samira’s side. 

 

She turns to greet him but hones in on his neck immediately. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” 

 

His hand flies to cover the marks. “Yeah. Yup. Yes, fine, thanks.”

 

“I told him it looked insane,” Trinity finally speaks. She still looks irritated but not to the point of leaving Dennis alone. “He said no to wearing a turtle neck.” 

 

“Might’ve been better off wearing a scarf. Jesus, Dennis, you look like a teenager's first hookup.” 

 

He can hear Robby clearing his throat and Jack straight up laughing. 

 

“Great to see you too, Samira. How was your night with the little boytoy you went home with?” 

 

Her eyes narrow. “Who told you about that?” 

 

“Victoria is a gossiper.” 

 

“Rambler, actually,” the girl in question confirms as she joins them. “It’s an issue.” She looks at Dennis and her jaw drops. “Dennis, what the fuck?” 

 

“Does anyone want to do our jobs? Just curious.” 

 

“I would love an answer on that too,” Dana says from behind them. It makes all of them jump before turning around sheepishly. She’s grinning at them, especially at Dennis’s flushed face. “Congrats on a fun night out, Whitaker. I’ve got chest pains in seven, nonstop vomiting in twelve, and Halloween sorority girls with serious levels of alcohol poisoning in fifteen.” 

 

“Dennis wants the Halloween ones.” Trinity grins at his glare. “Sorry. Sorority girls love a marked up man.” 

 

“Give her the vomiting one,” he tells Dana as he takes the offered patient chart. “And be sure to let her know if you get a call from a certain brunette looking for a skirt she left at a Dr. Santos’s place.” 

 

Trinity swats at him as he heads toward the aforementioned patient room, Samira laughing as she goes with him. “Asshole!” 

 

Dennis purposefully avoids making eye contact with the two attendings as he and Samira start comparing notes on the patients. He’s pretty sure he’s made it out of the clear when-

 

“Whitaker.” 

 

His head spins so quickly it gives him whiplash. Jack motions for him as Samira enters the patient room, and Dennis hesitates on the edge of the doorway. 

 

Jack presses one of the blueberry protein bars Dennis loves into his hand. 

 

“Eat it,” is all he says as he shoulders his bag and looks at Dennis pointedly before leaving. 

 

So much for flying under the radar with that one. 

 

Working with Samira does little to lessen his nerves. She’s not nearly as slow as Robby complains that she is but she does a little more investigation on patient history than Dennis prefers. He knows it’s great patient care and that people, especially parents love her for it. 

 

She’s just so damn nosy. Asking about baby names, nursery colors, vacation spots, sorority functions. Nothing is unimportant to her and he hates it. When he already feels like he’s having too much to hide, she’s not exactly the person he wants to work with. 

 

When she asks the fourth question about baby related things, Dennis has to physically pinch himself to stop from interrupting her. 

 

He can’t place the growing irritation. Victoria asks him an innocent question about his next shift and he gives the shortest reply he can. Trinity tries to make another joke about his neck and he just flips her off. Even Mel has him rubbing his eyes in exhaustion because he can’t stomach any questions about a patient Samira ordered treatment on. 

 

Robby had been pulled into a case with a failed LVAD so he doesn’t see him until Dennis is debating if he has time to go check his phone to see what his blood glucose is. He’s on his way to check on some labs for his pregnant patient when Robby spots him and waves him over to his workstation. Dennis changes his course without hesitating. 

 

“You need to do a slight correction and take a few minutes to eat.” Robby shuffles through the papers in front of him as he talks. “I’m guessing you didn’t think to pause and dose this morning after you ate?” 

 

Oops. 

 

“I couldn’t find a minute to.” 

 

“Then find me.” Robby looks up at him over his glasses and Dennis feels a little insane. “You’re on your way to labs? Grab something to eat from the breakroom and don’t come back down until you’re a little bit lower.” 

 

“But I-”

“You’re a little too snappy and I’ve seen the way you’ve been moving around. You’re running too high and I need you to take a minute to take care of yourself.” His voice softens. “If not for you, then for me and the patients, okay?” 

 

Dennis nods, biting his tongue to stop a snarky response. It’s not fair to take his irritation out on Robby, and he knows that. He knows it but sometimes this disease just gets the best of him. He wants to avoid taking it out on others as much as possible. 

 

Thirty minutes and half a sandwich later, he can begrudgingly admit that he feels better. And he will never actually be admitting that. 

 

The knowing smirk Robby has on his face is irritating enough. 

 

They’re nearing the end of the day when he finally works up the nerve to say something to his roommate. Her mood has improved only slightly after her paracentesis procedure that Garcia let her do solo. He watches her, waiting for her scowl to lessen before speaking. 

 

“Trin?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I might not be home until later tonight.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I have a thing.” He shifts on his feet anxiously. “A date.” 

 

Her head pops up. She narrows her eyes at him. Crosses her arms. “Oh, you motherfucker.” 

 

“Trin-”

 

“You know, I’m starting to feel like a neglected housewife. You’re cheating on me. With a booty call.” 

 

“I’m sorry! Look, there’s leftovers in the fridge, and I’ll be home tomorrow night.” 

 

“You fucking better. We’re doing a game night. Again. Because Mel enjoys torturing us.” 

 

“I will. I’ll even lose on purpose.” 

 

“On purpose is a great excuse when we all know you’re just naturally bad at games.” She pats his back patronizingly. “You’re genetically disposed to being a loser. It’s okay.” 

 

“Just for that, I’m telling Victoria that you said she could pick the movie.” 

 

“Take it back.” 

 

“No. She’s been really excited to put it on one of the thirty thousand Disney Channel originals I haven’t seen.” 

 

“Asshole.”

 

He blows her a kiss in response. 

 

Shen and Ellis arrive as he’s slowly gathering his things up. He watches Robby point out a few things on one of the iPads and screen before leaving. Dennis starts to head towards the exit, the Pittsburgh early winter not nearly as bad as the ones he faced growing up. It freaked Trinity out when he left their apartment in the fifty degree weather without anything beyond a simple jacket. But it was familiar, and in his first few winters in the city he never needed to pull out his Nebraska coats until mid-December or so. 

 

He’s mindlessly scrolling on his phone when Robby appears beside him. “Ready?” 

 

“Yeah.” He gets a little confused when they turn left outside of the ER instead of right but he follows anyway. 

 

Until he sees the black truck Robby’s heading for, opening the door for him without asking. He raises his brows at Dennis’s pause. “C’mon.” 

 

Dennis points at the truck. “In there?” 

 

“Yup.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s getting too cold to walk, Den. You’re fine, honey, no one’s looking.” 

 

That might be true, shielded by the dark of the evening and the always turning machine of the hospital. Still, he does a quick survey of the parking lot before hopping into Robby’s passenger side. 

 

It is admittedly warmer inside the car for the ride to the townhome. Robby’s had one too many wins today for Dennis to admit it though. 

 

The car is silent for a few minutes as Robby drives out of the parking lot and onto the busy downtown streets. 

 

“I never heard back from Mohan about that pregnant patient. How did her ultrasound turn out?” 

 

“Fine. No fluids or anything abnormal. She was sore so we ordered an CT scan just to be safe. Discharged her with some ibuprofen and advised her to take it easy and follow up with her OB.” 

 

Robby nods. “She okay? Request anything before she left?” 

 

“I think she was there because her wife asked her to go. She wasn’t too shaken up. Just mad at herself for falling in the first place.” He remembers the patient that had taken up the majority of Robby’s time. “What about that emergency LVAD failure you had?” 

 

The conversation distracts him. It feels normal and less awkward, like Robby’s waiting for him to admit something. They walk through the portions of the day where they didn’t see each other, filling in the gaps, like it’s any other day. Robby starts swearing about one of the patients who fought him over receiving an x-ray because they didn’t want to get cancer and it makes Dennis laugh for the first time in hours. 

 

Daylight is fading rapidly when they arrive at the brick townhome. Dennis doesn’t know how he feels about the way that he’s memorized the route to their home so quickly. Or how easy it feels to follow behind Robby inside and put his things at the entryway. 

 

Robby pauses at the edge of the hall. “Do you want to shower or anything?” 

 

Dennis gestures down at his scrubs. “I’ll just get out of these.” 

 

He had brought a change of clothes just to be smart about it. He’s not stupid enough to stay over when Jack is working. Plus, he also works in the morning, and getting a ride from work with Robby is one thing. Getting a ride to work after sleeping in their bed…

 

Uber is a great capitalism invention. 

 

“Okay. If you change your mind, let one of us know.” 

 

He takes his time changing and 

 

He hesitates at the edge of the kitchen, watching Jack move around the space with ease. It feels weird to waltz in like it’s his space or something he’s entitled to. And he hasn’t seen Jack all day and some small part of him missed the sarcastic remarks and gentle teasing. He’s fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt when Jack finally addresses him. 

 

“Stop thinking so much,” Jack says without turning around. 

 

It breaks his mental gymnastics and he finally enters the kitchen. “Can you blame me?” 

 

“Yes. Nothing has technically changed.” 

 

Maybe it’s old fashioned of him or maybe it’s the Christian upbringing, but personally, knowing that he’s seen the two of them naked and had them both inside of him feels like something has possibly changed. 

 

There’s already two glasses of red wine waiting at the bar top. He can tell just by looking at them that one is from the kosher supply Robby keeps on stock. “Which one is-” 

 

“The one on the left. It’s the merlot from last week that we didn’t finish yet.” 

 

Dennis nods and goes to sit on one of the barstools. Before his hand can even curl around the stem of the glass, Jack is whirling around, pointing the utensil in his hand at him. “You better eat something with that or drink it slowly. I already saw your slip from this afternoon and I know damn well you didn’t correct it without Robby running interference.” 

 

“I had a thing of juice before I left.” 

 

“Sure you did.” He watches Dennis slowly retract his hand and nods. “That’s what I thought. Slowly or get something to eat.” 

 

Dennis can’t decide if he should laugh or try to drain the entire glass in a few seconds just to prove a point. He watches Jack move around for a bit, taking the occasional sip instead. 

 

“What time do you have to go in?” 

 

Jack checks his watch. “Shen’s in charge until I get there at nine. He knows I prefer to come in later and stay later.” 

 

“Oh.” He swings his legs under the bar. “Can I help?” 

 

Jack shoots him an amused look, a slight smile on his face. “You don’t do well with sitting still, do you?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

“Mhm.” He nods at the pile of potatoes. “Cut those up for me.”  

 

Dennis hops down eagerly and takes one of the knives from their place on the countertop. “Why don’t you ever let Robby help?” 

 

“Honestly? It’s not that he’s incapable of doing things. He was surviving just fine without me before we got married. I just don’t like how he does things most of the time. It bothers me.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

“Like when he never washed his vegetables. Or barely used more than onion and garlic as seasonings. The only time I let him make anything is when he’s making one of the dishes his Bubbe did. I don’t think I can replicate any of those half as well as he can.” 

 

“But you let me help?” 

 

“You’ve proven yourself more than capable on many occasions.” 

 

“I don’t know how. If my sister hadn’t taken the time to show me, I doubt I’d be any good at it.” 

 

“What, you weren’t allowed in the kitchen growing up?” 

 

“No, actually. I was one of the boys so I had to work the farm. But as my brothers left and got married, my parents got busier with grandchildren. Sarah and I would be on our own some nights and she taught me then.” He slides a few of the potato slices to the side. “Between that and hunting seasons, I picked up a few decent skills.” 

 

“Do you ever miss it?” 

 

“Hunting season?” 

 

“Nebraska. The farm, your family.” 

 

Dennis gets quiet. Thinks about all the times he cried himself to sleep in college, the days he spent trying to call home, the years of taking shit from everyone in the family. Nephews and nieces screaming around the house. 

 

“I miss parts of it. It’s still home, you know? There’s familiarity in it. But there are reasons that I left. That I won't go back.” 

 

Before Jack can pry and before Dennis can say anything else he shouldn’t, Robby appears with still slightly damp hair. “Jack, what happened to 

 

“You dose for anything yet?”

 

“No, I got a little distracted.” 

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “Distracted. Sure. Michael, can you grab his bag? I’ve got the carb count ready to go.” 

 

Dennis ignores the remarks as he slides the diced food over to Jack and moves on to setting the table. 

 

When Robby has the shot prepped, he beckons for Dennis. “Arm or stomach?” 

 

There’s a slight hesitation before Dennis thinks fuck all and slides the edge of his sweatpants down just barely. “Ass, actually.” 

 

Robby has the controlled look only a doctor can have. Jack does a double take before shaking his head with a smirk. 

 

“Ass it is.” 

 

Once dinner is finished, Dennis decides to pour himself a larger than normal glass of wine and can’t stop himself from thinking about communion Sundays. The blood of the covenant. When Robby takes a knife and starts slicing the bread up he has to hold back a laugh. 

 

The conversation flows easily. Jack’s already received a few messages about some issues at work that have him rolling his eyes. Robby starts complaining about something Mohan did that irritated him earlier and Dennis decidedly does not comment on it. The last thing he needs to do is add fuel to that fire. 

 

Jack doesn’t mind it. “You’re too hard on her. She’s doing fine for a third year who doesn’t even know if this speciality is for her.” 

 

“She’s too talkative. She’s too invasive. One day, it’s going to fuck her over because she’s going to ask the wrong question to the wrong person under the guise of helping them.” Robby nods at Dennis as he takes a bite of his food. “Should’ve seen how uncomfortable Denny was with her and the pregnant patient.” 

 

“I just don’t really care about nursery colors.” 

 

“See?” 

 

“Wasn’t your glucose high half the day anyway? You don’t tolerate much when you’re running higher.” 

 

“I don’t tolerate anything with pregnant people. One time my sister in law threw up in my hands on the way to a family function because of her morning sickness.” 

 

“There is so much to dissect within that one statement.” Jack tosses back the rest of his wine. “Mohan’s fine. The only one I’m worried about is Santos. She’s too eager to cut anything open. She has the bloodthirst only a surgeon could have.” 

 

“She’d love to hear you say that,” Dennis says with a smile. “She’s elbowed me out of the way plenty of times for a chance to cut a foreign object out.” 

 

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind when the holidays start up.” 

 

It’s not until the plates are cleared and the conversation starts to slow that Dennis realizes he has no idea as to what he’s going to say. 

 

He probably should have been debating this earlier on. Maybe before he arrived or before he said he’d come over. Possibly before agreeing prematurely to whatever the fuck this was. 

 

\ecause Robby and Jack are staring at him expectantly and he has no words. 

 

“Can someone else start?” 

 

Robby smiles. “Nervous?” 

 

“This feels like a really weird job interview.” 

 

Robby shakes his head and Jack smirks. 

 

“You’ve thought it over?” Jack prompts. 

 

“Yeah. Kind of.” He taps his fingers against the table, trying to gather his thoughts. “I mean, I’m here, so obviously I’m fine with…trying this out. Or whatever.” 

 

“Right.” Robby tilts his head into Dennis’s line of sight. “That’s the sound of confidence.” 

 

Dennis tosses his hands up in the air. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“Anything other than you’re fine or whatever would be a really good start.” 

 

“I’m good and whatever.” 

 

“Funny.” Jack takes a sip of his wine. “Unfortunately for you, we’re taking this very seriously.” 

 

“See, that’s the problem. How serious are we talking here? How many times are you expecting me to be over here? What do we do about work? What about after my rotation?” 

 

“Okay, take a fucking breath, Dennis,” Jack’s tone is teasing but his face is serious. “There’s no expectations for you. We aren’t here with a list of demands from you.” 

 

“We’re here because we want to be. What about you?” 

 

“I am. I want to be here.” 

 

“Then what is it?” 

 

“I don’t want this to become something more than I can handle.” 

 

It’s simple and it’s the truth. If he’s going to play this game, he needs to have that one rule, that one line. He can get himself into this bullshit if they’ll let him out when he needs. 

 

“If this starts to interfere with my studying, with my career, with your careers? That’s not something I’m okay with. I’ll back out. I need to be able to back out. And I need you two to be able to respect that.” 

 

“Of course,” Robby says confidently. “We would never want to do anything to put you or your long-term goals in jeopardy.” 

 

“You have every right to back out of this,” Jack nods. “But can you tell us what this-” he points between the three of them. “-is going to be?” 

 

Isn’t that the million dollar question? The one that they as the married couple should be answering for themselves? 

 

“I don’t know what I want this to be,” he admits. “But I’m fine figuring it out as we go as long as both of you know that and are okay with that.” 

 

“Dennis, we already told you. The only thing we want out of this is you.” 

 

“I know. But I also don’t know what that means for me. So just…” he bites his lip and sighs. “Just give me the chance to figure it out, okay?” 

 

“Are you sure you don’t need more time to-” Robby starts to offer, but Dennis is already shaking his head. 

 

“I’m sure. I think we’re all aware of how badly we each want this.” 

 

He almost feels bad for lying to them. They look so eager and excited when he knows deep in his chest that he’ll call this whole thing off the second it gets too dangerous.  That the moment they don’t want him anymore he’ll leave. 

 

“We can be patient,” Jack promises. “As long as you want us, you have us.” 

 

Robby nods. “As long as you want, Dennis.” 

 

Dennis seals the new covenant with a sip of his wine. 

 

With that conversation finally over, they return to the typical movements of picking a random topic and talking while they clean up the kitchen.

 

When they move from the kitchen to the living room, Robby grabs Dennis’s hand before he can get too far and settles onto the couch before pulling him into his lap. Dennis flushes pink at the closeness but can’t be too embarrassed for long when Robby’s cupping the back of his head and bringing him in for a kiss. 

 

He feels a little bit like a teenager in one of the movies Trinity has forced him to watch for his social development. Making out with someone on a couch just seems a little too immature for his tastes but he’s not one to complain. 

 

He’s pretty eager for how the evening could turn out until Robby pulls him back, away from his frame, and leans back into the couch cushions. 

 

“You didn’t eat.”

Dennis blinks in confusion. It seems like the exact opposite of what they should be doing. “What?” 

 

“You didn’t eat,” Jack restates from across the room. 

 

“We just had dinner-” 

 

“Yesterday. We both told you that you needed to eat something at lunch.” 

 

“Well, yeah, I-” he squirms a little under their heated stares. “I slept through it. I just forgot.” 

 

“Mhm.” Robby’s fingers tap at his hip. “And what happened?” 

 

“I wasn’t even that-” 

 

“What happened, Dennis?” 

 

Something in Jack’s tone makes him shiver a bit. 

 

“I got a little low,” he admits. “But nothing bad! It was fine!” 

 

“But that’s not what we said to do, was it?” 

 

He’s starting to feel a little bit like he’s caught in a trap. Like there’s not really a right answer here. “I didn’t mean to. And I was fine later.” 

 

“Like how you were fine this morning?” 

 

He glares at Robby. “That wasn’t intentional.” 

 

“But you know you can come and grab me. I’ve made that abundantly clear.” 

 

“I know, it's just-” he shrugs. “It slipped my mind.” 

 

“Part of this,” Robby says calmly, starting to scratch at Dennis’s back in a delicious pattern. “is letting us take care of you. Here, at work, wherever. You have to start trusting us.” 

 

“I do,” he whines. “It’s just hard sometimes. I’m not used to it.” 

 

“Well, we can get you used to it. Starting with the pleasure we give you,” Jack leans back in his chair. “So if you’re getting off at all tonight, it’ll be on one of our thighs.” 

 

He turns to Robby desperately. “But I-” 

 

Robby clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nope. Listen to Jack. You knew you were supposed to eat.”

 

Once again, he thinks fuck, there’s two of them. 

 

“I’ve done it plenty of times before.” 

 

Wrong thing to say. He’s too relaxed around them and he loses all sense of self preservation. Robby drops his chin down and Dennis gets flashbacks to his first shift. “Really?”

 

“I mean not- not a lot. Just on occasion.” 

 

“How many occasions?” 

 

There’s massive alarm bells going off in his head and he chooses to heed them by shrugging instead of answering. Robby’s hands move to the skin underneath his shirt and he shivers in response.

“How many occasions, Dennis?” 

 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. He could sit here and count for this week alone but that would be admitting to more than he’d like. If they wanted him to go all the way back to undergrad, they’d be sitting here for hours. 

 

“And that is exactly the problem.” Robby pulls him closer and Dennis bites back a whimper when he feels the bulge pressing against him. “You’ve formed a habit that we won’t support.” 

 

“Part of this is you taking care of yourself. I don’t know if you realize how low you got the other night, but it was bad, sweetheart. You’re not going to be able to keep up if you don’t have yourself somewhat under control.”

 

“So if you want something tonight, it’s here.” Robby pushes his hips down and the pressure sends a spike of pleasure up Dennis’s spine. “Or not at all.” 

 

He could just say no, and leave it be. 

 

Unfortunately, he is well aware of the raging hard-on he has and is nothing but a pathetic twenty-six year old who enjoys sex. 

With all of the confidence that he can muster, he takes a deep breath, and starts slowly moving his hips back and forth, up and down Robby’s firm thigh. It’s hard to find a rhythm that catches the attention of his cock. 

 

A few thrusts later and he thinks he has it. The cotton of his sweats offer no barricade to the denim of Robby’s jeans and the rough fabric gives a little something to work towards. 

He focuses on trying to find a better angle. Braces his hands on Robby’s shoulders and moves a little deeper. Each drag against the muscle has him getting a little more desperate. He’s sure there’s something he could do to make it more than the little bits of pressure building against his stomach. 

 

“Better hurry, kid. I’ve got to be at work in half an hour.” 

 

Dennis whines. Of course Jack would point that out and break his concentration. 

 

He tries to move a little faster, shivering at the friction. Robby’s fingers are still trailing along his spine and he wishes they would go anywhere else. 

 

“It’s not enough,” he whines against Robby’s neck. 

 

“You want some help, honey?”

 

Dennis nods eagerly and Robby slides his hands around his waist, which is simply not where Dennis wants them to be. He starts moving Dennis firmly against his thigh, hands gripping bruises from that first night and Dennis idly wonders when he’s going to leave this townhome without a new mark. 

 

The pressure still isn’t enough. Even when he can rub against the outline of Robby’s cock every time he moves up and down. He wants to complain but they don’t seem the type to let up on things like this. 

Something made abundantly clear by the way Jack says, “Don’t help him too much, Michael. Make him work for it.” 

 

Dennis shoots Jack a dirty glare over his shoulder that’s only received with a smirk. 

 

He can feel the tension building but it’s barely there. It’s nearing a chore to keep moving in the way that he is. There’s a small patch of precum leaking through his clothes and it only adds to his discomfort. 

 

“There you go. Come on, sunshine, you can do it.”

 

His hips started to chase the pressure. He moves frantically, half guided by Robby’s hands and half his own pleasure. Each motion rubbing against his sensitive cock made him moan. 

 

It was a little pathetic. It was wholly unsatisfying. There was just enough squeezing him and not enough to get him to his tipping point. He needed something more and he knew that they both knew that. 

 

Robby must feel some semblance of pity because he starts to bounce his leg right as Dennis slides down his thigh. It helps, just barely, and Dennis moves faster, almost eager for this to just be over with over anything else. 

 

Within seconds, his orgasm rips through him and he comes with a frustrated groan. Dennis leans into Robby’s hold and closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. It’s not an Earth shattering orgasm, not even a halfway decent one. 

 

The hand ruffling his hair and quiet, “Good boy” he gets as a reward almost makes it worth it. 

 

Almost.

Notes:

I'm really excited for what I have planned in the next few chapters. I don't love how this turned out, but it's the start of finals for me with grad school and I need to finish up those projects before I start on chapter 15.

I'm on tumblr (blueangelbby) and I'm happily taking any questions/requests/thoughts & thots so come hang out! I'll also be doing a little poll for what my next fic will be (we're up to four different ideas) so if you want to vote for what comes after this fic, because i'm already planning, go follow me!

Also....how do we feel about throwing a daddy kink in here? I've gone back and forth and can't decide if I want to go there. So I will let the audience decide.

Chapter 15

Notes:

everyone online: oh it must be so hard for them to line up their schedules and see each other and they're probably so tired after shifts anyway

Me: not in my world. not in the world I'm living in.

get in losers, we're going to paris

You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit. - Job 10:12

They fall into a new rhythm. 

 

They still have dinners and the occasional sleepy morning after a night together. But he starts ending up at their place more and more, sometimes without even meaning to. He’ll just get a text or a look at work, and he knows where he’s supposed to be that night and into the next day. 

 

On nights where Jack is working, they have a quick dinner together, unless Dennis has prior commitments with the girls. On the days that Robby and he are both off, he typically ends up at their place anyway, lounging around, studying at the table or Robby’s office, or curling up on the couch in one of their laps while watching a movie or TV show. 

 

They don’t necessarily go out, but Dennis doesn’t mind. That’s what game nights or nights at a local bar is with the girls, and occasionally Mateo or whoever Trinity can bully into showing up. He feels like it’s a good balance, going from age appropriate activities to wildly inappropriate actions. 

 

There is one night where he ends up texting Robby to pretty please come pick him up from the bar that he had been dragged to. When Robby gets him back to the townhome, Dennis convinces him to have a messy makeout session on the couch before he promptly falls asleep while Robby goes to start the shower for him. 

 

It’s been so long since he’s had a place that feels like a home, and he thinks that between the apartment and the townhome, he almost has one again. 

 

And it’s a little embarrassing, but he feels like he’s finally getting caught up on all of the sex he’s been missing out on for the last few years. 

 

They might not be teenagers, but they’re handsy. If he sits with Jack, he can expect to watch all of fifteen minutes of whatever the hell is on the screen before he’s either on his knees for Jack or getting stretched out with his fingers until he’s nearing tears. 

 

Robby likes to drag it out. He likes the way that Dennis is so reactive to his touch. He’ll slide his hands around his hips, trailing down his stomach, and then stroke lazily on Dennis’s cock while he’s begging for more. Jack either ignores it completely or offers entirely unhelpful commentary. 

 

Well, Dennis thinks it’s unhelpful. And if he comes faster when Robby and Jack go back and forth like he’s not even there other than to provide some pleasure, that’s no one’s business but his and the laundry that he keeps having to do at their place. 

 

Dennis, the pervert that he is, catches himself staring more often than not these days. And there’s no rhyme or reason to it. He watches Robby slide his hands into those medical grade gloves and feels crazy. He watches Abbot do CPR on a patient and has to take a lap to calm himself down. 

 

And they know, the motherfuckers. He can tell by the way that Robby snaps the wrist of his glove while looking at him pointedly or when Jack will pass by him and drag his nails along Dennis’s back to get a shiver out of him. They know what they’re doing to him. 

 

He tries to get back at them by leaning over the work stations just so and grinning when he catches their eyes glued to the curve of his ass. Or he’ll purposefully stretch his arms to show off the slenderness of his waist. 

 

Both end up with him in their bed, getting fucked into the mattress, so it’s a win for him nearly every night. 

 

Sometimes he wakes up, like he always has, terrified they’re gone and he’s left alone. He lays between them, heart racing in his chest, and listens to their breathing ease him back to sleep. He can’t prove it but he thinks one of them wakes up when he does. Whenever that hot panic settles through him, one arm snakes around his waist to pull him closer. 

 

They’re always pulling him closer. 

 

“Come back to the night shift,” Jack tries one night, shoes on and bag ready to go. Dennis is curled up on the couch below him, blanket covering his naked frame since apparently Jack could decide when they could fuck on the couch and when they couldn’t. “I’m more subtle than Michael and we can have a quickie in the bathroom anytime you want.” 

 

“I’m right here.” 

 

Dennis hums, tapping his fingers against his lip. “Tempting. Would I also get any case I want?” 

 

“You get that with me.” Robby flips the page in his book with a little exasperation. 

 

“Any case you want and any weird medical thing that pops up.” 

 

“If that includes the sex ones, I’m out. The holidays are coming up and I’ve seen what people think they can do with tree shaped items.” 

 

“I’ll take the sex ones.”

 

“I already do that for you, too.” 

 

“Can I yell at people?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Can I boss you around?”

 

“I don’t think I can offer that.”

 

“Damn.” Dennis leans up slightly to kiss him. “I think I’ll have to decline.” 

 

Jack grumbles on his way out the door but Robby gives him a blowjob for his loyalty. 

 

He refuses to think of them as any specific label in his head. That’s dangerous territory that he isn’t ready for.

 

In some weird way, Dennis thinks that they don’t want him, but just someone extra around. Someone to prompt new conversations and try new things with and just be present. 

 

He’s good at bending to the whims of others. He knows how to sacrifice his own needs for the better. So when they text him, he doesn’t say no. When they initiate sex, he goes with it. 

 

There’s something so familiar in them, in their hands, in their words. He used to only feel the Holy Spirit upon him when he was doing something wrong. A constant reminder of how fucked up he was, how fucked up he is. Now he feels it every time they lay a hand on him. 

 

Their touch is so much more comforting than God’s ever was. 

 

He’s sitting at his apartment one night, scrolling through a few emails from his advisor and old professors that he’s been ignoring. It’s one of the rare nights where he was off, and Robby and Jack weren’t. He tries not to feel any version of upset by the fact that he won’t see them for one night when Trinity gets back from an outing with her Halloween date. 

 

“I don’t do relationship bullshit,” she says as her way of greeting him. “Remind me of that next time I hookup with someone twice since you keep track of that.” 

 

“Again, I was not keeping track of it.”  He looks up from his laptop and winces at her haggard appearance. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced. Her hair is pushed out of her face but she’s clearly been tugging on it. “That bad of a breakup?” 

 

“It isn’t technically a breakup if we were never official.” 

 

“I’m sure she loved hearing that.” 

 

She drops her bag and keys on the table and drums her fingers on the back of one of the chairs. “Is it me? Am I the problem? Do I offer too much and expect too little in return?” 

 

“You let me live here for free and all I have to do is make you the occasional meal or clean the very few messes you have time to make.” 

 

“That makes me a good samaritan.” 

 

“It also makes you one of the world’s worst situationships.”

 

“Hm. Great point but I just decided that I don’t want to have this conversation.” She moves to the fridge, searching for something that he’s positive will contain alcohol in it. “Oh, hey. Have you worked out Thanksgiving plans yet?” 

 

Dennis shakes his head. “I’ll probably work. Figure it’ll be busy. People back home lose fingers over brined turkeys.” 

 

“Seriously?” She shuts the fridge door with her hip, seltzer can in hand. “I thought that shit was a myth.” 

 

“Nope. My uncle burned his entire arm one year. And he still tried again the next.” 

 

Trinity makes a face and Dennis has to laugh. “Disgusting. Well, if you don’t end up working, you can come home with me. My parents will probably think you’re my boyfriend and we can make a game out of it.” 

 

“A game?” 

 

“Yeah. See how many times they ask you when you’re going to propose, how many times my cousins ask you invasive questions-” 

 

“So you want me to go spend Thanksgiving with a household full of yous? And not walk away psychologically damaged?” 

 

“I’m trying to be nice, dickhead.” 

 

“Right. Obviously.” He gestures at her hand on her popped out hip, frown on her face. “This? This screams nice. I feel for the girl whose heart you just broke. I’m sure she has a lot to talk to her therapist about.” 

 

“Fuck off. And clear your shit out of here. Everyone’s going to be here in an hour.” 

 

“We’re hosting?” 

 

She points around the empty apartment. “When have we not? When does anyone else ever host?” 

 

Point taken, he thinks an hour later when he’s working on making the spread of snacks for their movie night. Samira and Mel had at least brought their own choice of drink. Victoria tended to just take whatever she could bum off of someone. 

 

Which meant Dennis’s meager supply of vodka tonight. 

 

“We are not doing another historical film, Samira. You have your own home to do that bullshit in.” 

 

“Oh, as opposed to the sixth Disney channel film of the month?” 

 

“They’re nostalgic,” Mel protests.  “And Dennis is almost caught up on the best ones.” 

 

“If those are the best, I really don’t think I want to see anything else.” 

 

“Unbelievable. They’re downright iconic.” Victoria takes a sip of her drink. “And what do you care? You’ve missed the last three movie nights, you don’t get a say.” 

 

“Speaking of-” Samira says, turning slightly from her spot on the couch. “When are we going to meet this elusive partner of yours?” 

 

Dennis looks at the ceiling, pretending to think it through. “Never. And then never ever.” 

 

Mel makes a face. “Ouch, never ever. That’s tough.” 

 

“What if we promise to be on our best behavior?” Trinity tries. 

 

Dennis tilts his head. “Your version of best behavior is socially unacceptable at most functions.” 

 

She flips him off in response and he throws a piece of popcorn at her face. 

 

“Oh, come on. You’re on what, almost a month?” Samaria starts counting on her fingers. 

 

If you count the pre Halloween nonsense, sure. 

 

“It’s still really new,” he deflects instead of answering. “And I don’t even know how serious it is.” 

 

“It’s serious enough that he’s staying over three or four times a week.” Trinity smirks at his glare. “What? You practically live there.”

 

“Oh, cohabitation already?” Samira shakes her head mockingly. “That’s dangerous.” 

 

Dennis rolls his eyes. “If the situation arises, I will let you meet them. But that, again, will never, ever happen.” 

 

“Fine. Keep your secrets. See if I care,” Victoria huffs. 

 

“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” 

 

“It’s killing all of us. We even have a secret group chat where we debate how to find out who it is.” 

 

They never, ever needed to know who he was seeing. They would be better off thinking it was some random girl and crossing their fingers that he would change his mind. He would rather cut off his own foot or do the rest of his shifts hungover. 

 

Yeah, it was a little unnerving how often he ended up staying over at the townhome. Inhabiting their space. Stealing their time from them. Stealing their food and drinking their liquor cabinet dry. But it was safe and warm and cozy. He couldn’t help it. 

 

Besides, this was what he had promised himself. Giving them whatever they wanted in return for a few good fucks, a place to hang out, and a space to breathe. He was getting more than he ever anticipated back. 

 

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to go on a real date with them. To stop this quiet hiding and actually let himself sink into whatever the fuck they were doing. To not hide in a corner of PTMC and wait until no one was around to slide into Robby’s truck and head straight home. 

 

Dennis has lived too much of his life hiding away from himself and it’s starting to grow old. 

 

They get really bold one night and stop at a grocery store to pick up a few things Jack had texted about. Even though neither one of them says it, it’s different than being at the townhome, and there’s a slight sense of urgency in their movements. Like they can’t risk being out in the open so close to the hospital. 

 

Until Dennis realizes that the two men are absolutely in a different tax bracket than him. Robby doesn’t even glance at the prices, just grabbing the exact item Jack had asked for. He doesn’t even go for the store brand version of items which Dennis can’t exactly understand. 

 

When he grabs two fifty dollar bottles of truffle oil, Dennis finally speaks up. 

 

“Okay, come on.”

 

“What?” Robby double checks the label. “Is this not the right one?”

 

“He said he just needed one.” 

 

“Well, now he has one for next time.” 

 

Dennis tilts his head. “Do you even know when that might be?” 

 

“Great point.” He reaches down and grabs another bottle and Dennis can’t stop himself from laughing. “Now I don’t have to come back for a while.” 

 

“Clearly.”

 

The store is blissfully empty for the hour. Only the occasional person in an aisle. Dennis can feel his worry sliding away as they move through. When they make it into the produce section which makes Dennis sigh a little. 

 

“What? You have something against store bought potatoes?” 

 

“No, I’m not that picky.” He eyes the lines of food. “It’s nothing. Sometimes this makes me miss the farm. The crops that we grew were just so much fresher than the ones here.” 

 

Sometimes he misses the hard labor too. Letting his body work like it finally had a purpose, and feeling useful for his family. Those were the days where he actually enjoyed being alive. Before he had the worship of medical procedures and the heavenly praise of two men. 

 

“You know, we’ve got a little yard out back. Jack always talks about wanting to do something with it. You’re more than welcome to try and see what you could grow back there. I don’t know how far you’ll get in Pittsburgh weather, though.” 

 

“You do know how much worse the weather is in Nebraska, right?” 

 

“Is that why you haven’t come to work in a real jacket yet?” 

 

Dennis frowns. “This is a real jacket.” 

 

Robby reaches out and tugs on the fabric. “This is a pathetic excuse for protection against the cold. You need to start dressing like you’re not trying to get sick. And don’t act like you aren’t well aware of how anemia impacts your body temperature.” 

 

“I’m used to worse.” 

 

“Yeah, but you’re not in that state anymore, are you? There’s no more ‘worse’ to endure here. So you can quit trying to wait for it to get worse and just focus on how it is here.” 

 

Dennis lets that wash him clean as they keep moving throughout the store and towards the check out line. 

 

The woman scanning their items looks weirdly happy at the two of them and the slight bickering they do over if they got everything they needed. She sighs as she rings up the total. “You two are a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to see fathers and sons still hanging out and getting along so well.” 

 

Dennis can’t decide if he should start laughing or ask God to cash in that promised smiting again. 

 

Robby looks definitively mortified and pays without speaking again. 

 

In the truck, Dennis decides it’s easier to just laugh while Robby mutters about people minding their own damn business before starting the engine up. 

 

“Come on. She didn’t know any better.” 

 

“Last thing I need is someone making comments like that. I already get it enough at work.” 

 

He tries to pull Robby out of whatever mood the interaction puts him in, but to no avail. He’s still scowling when they pull up to the townhome. 

 

Jack can spot the irritation on his husband as soon as they step foot in the kitchen. He frowns at Dennis immediately.“What did you do?” 

 

Dennis sputters, pointing at himself. “How is this my fault?” 

 

“He has that look on his face. Like he caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing.” 

 

“How often is he making that face?” 

 

“Daily. Sometimes hourly.” 

 

Dennis rolls his eyes, setting his bag down on the countertop. “I think he’s processing that he’s the one that got caught doing something.” 

 

“Michael, I swear if I get a call from Dana about you smoking again on your breaks-” 

 

“I am going to take a quick shower. Dennis, can you put the stuff up?” 

 

Dennis bites his lip to conceal a smile and nods. Jack watches his husband leave the room, and waits until the bedroom door shuts firmly before turning to Dennis with a quizzical look. 

 

“What the fuck happened?” 

 

He pulls one of the items from the bag. “The lady at the store thought we were father and son. I think it got to him.”  

 

Jack contains his laughter for all of two seconds. Dennis barely manages to hold his back as he starts putting things away. 

 

They make small talk about the work day, about the night Jack has ahead of him. Robby is still sullen faced when he comes back in half an hour later. Dennis has already prepped his insulin for the dinner and picks it up before turning to the man. 

 

Dennis flashes the full syringe at him with a sweet smile and bats his eyes. “Will you do it, please?” 

 

It’s just the right thing to ask. Robby’s entire face softens and he drops the tension in his shoulders. “Of course, sunshine.” 

 

Something about moments like this confuse Dennis. There’s the playful foreplay, the sex, the aftercare. And then there’s this, where Dennis just wants to make Robby feel better and he knows Robby just wants to take care of him. 

 

He mentions it once, on accident. He’s lounging on the couch, watching Jack prep the syringe when it slips out.  “You know, you two are the only ones beyond my mom that even knows how to do this.” 

 

“Do what?” Jack’s focused on the air bubbles inside the plastic. 

 

He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “The carb counting and the correction factors and everything else. And even then, a few months after I was diagnosed, I was pretty much doing it on my own.” 

 

“You were ten,” Robby frowns. 

 

“Yeah. I probably could have figured it out faster if I tried.” 

 

“No, that’s not- you were ten, Dennis. You were a kid.” 

 

“I was a kid who knew how to help a cow give birth and how to drive heavy machinery.” He flips onto his stomach to let Jack slide down the elastic waistband just enough. “The diabetic stuff just got in the way. I had to be fast with it so I could go help.” 

 

“That’s why you’re so good at the patterns and the quick thinking? Because you were doing it on your own so young?” 

 

Dennis pauses, tilting his head. “Oh. Probably.” 

 

“You could’ve used the help,” Jack says, pushing the needle in. Dennis winces at the slight sting and Jack rubs his back in apology. 

 

“It’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I mean I’m still alive right?” 

 

Robby shakes his head. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.” 

 

So yeah, there’s bumps in the road and random admittances of things that they probably don’t need to know. Maybe Dennis should invest in a therapist instead of trauma dumping randomly to his married attendings. 

 

Instead he falls into their sheets and let’s them fuck him until he’s shaking and breathless. Sue him. 

 

Two weeks out from Thanksgiving, that Saturday, when Jack is off and Robby’s at work, Dennis finds himself lounging in the living room. He should be looking at one of the multiple internship postings his advisor sent him. Or studying up for the USMLE. Or doing anything other than fading in and out of a nap, some random TV show on the screen. 

 

Tragically, he loves the couch more than he loves most things in the townhome. 

 

He's about to nod off completely when a noise startles him. There’s a muffled cursing down the hall that steals his attention. He sits up a little straighter and waits, and it comes again, distinctly Jack’s voice. 

 

Without thinking, he’s up and moving. Down the hall, right to the closed doorway of the bedroom. 

 

His hand stretches out, ready to knock, but he pulls it back down. 

 

He hesitates. Jack had disappeared earlier, saying something about laying down for a minute. Dennis hadn’t thought twice about it as he tried to stay out of the bedroom unless there were plans to fuck or he was worn out from the fucking. It felt a touch too far. 

 

But there was something about the tone of Jack’s voice that made him want to go in anyway. 

 

Still unsure, he reaches up and raps his knuckles against the wood. “Jack?” 

“It’s unlocked, kid.” 

 

He tries the handle and sure enough it gives easily. He pushes the door open and takes a half-step in. 

 

Jack’s on the bed, prosthetic abandoned on the floor, and he’s rubbing tight circles on his faded amputation scars. He glances up briefly when Dennis enters the room before returning his attention downward. “Hey, sweetheart. Did I wake you?” 

 

“I wasn’t really asleep.” He twists the door handle anxiously. “Is everything okay?” 

 

“Yeah. Just some typical leg pains. The colder weather makes it worse,” 

 

“Oh.” He waits a second, watching his hand’s motions. “Can I help?” 

 

The offer slips out without any prompting. Jack looks a little taken aback by it and Dennis is a little surprised himself. 

 

“It’s alright. I can handle it.” 

 

“Well, yeah. I know that. I just meant I can do it too. If you want a break.” 

 

He moves towards the bed, watching the repeated motions Jack’s making on the markings. His eyes flicker up to meet Jack’s steady gaze who just watches as he sits down on the mattress beside his legs. 

 

“I can help.” 

 

He knows, just like how Jack does, that this is crossing one of those invisible, unspoken lines. That there’s sex and then there’s intimacy. There’s making out on the couch, kissing before work, and then there’s prepping his shots and feeding him fruit snacks to fight a low blood glucose in the aftermath. 

 

“Denny, baby, it’s really okay-” 

 

He puts his hands on top of Jack’s, stalling the motions. 

 

“Just show me how. I only got to observe a few PT sessions during undergrad.” 

 

Jack still looks unsure, but leans down to adjust Dennis’s hands. “Here, and here. Start gentle, not a lot of pressure- yeah, like that.” 

 

Dennis moves his thumbs in a circular motion, supporting the back of the shortened limb with the rest of his hand. He’s a good student and watches how Jack reacts to make sure he’s doing the right thing. Treats it like he’s going to get graded for it. 

 

He waits until Jack nods to start applying deeper pressure. Digging his thumbs into the irritated areas, he moves in the same direction, like he can squeeze the pain down and out of Jack’s body. He can feel the muscles contracting beneath his touch. He can practically watch the knots popping out of place. 

 

Jack lets out a loud sigh and Dennis freezes hands steady. “No, you’re good, sweetheart. It feels good.” 

 

Dennis resumes his motions with a little more confidence. Starts to press into different spots and watches Jack slowly relax back onto the pillows of the headboard, eyes half lidded from the relief. 

 

Sometimes Dennis wants to ask him questions. How it happened, how he kept going after it happened. If it’s easier to have the hated part of you be so external and open like this. He knows Jack’s confident about it, and doesn't mind it. But he also saw the uncertainty the first time they got into bed. 

 

Dennis has seen that look on his own face when he realized that the spots he thought were freckles on his fingertips were bruises from getting blood for his glucose tests. When he has to change in front of Robby and Jack, they can see the small monitor on his arm. He knows what it’s like and even though it’s not the same, and he knows it’s not the same, he just wants to have a conversation with someone who still can sort of relate to it. 

 

Jack breathes out slowly, sitting up a little straighter in bed. “You’re sweet.” 

 

Dennis shrugs, a little embarrassed. “I don’t mind helping. You both do the carb counting and the shots and everything else. I want to help out too.” 

 

“Still. I appreciate it.” 

 

He takes it as a dismissal and stands, waiting at the edge of the bed for a moment. “Sure. You need anything else?” 

 

“Well, if you’re offering-” He grabs Dennis’s hand and yanks him into the bed with him. 

 

“Oh! Okay, sure that works too.” 

 

Dennis wraps his legs around Jack’s waist almost immediately curling up into his hold. Had he known a few simple touches were all that was needed to end up here, he would’ve been offering this a lot sooner. 

 

Jack’s hands find their way around the curve of Dennis’s ass and he can’t help but flex his hips slightly.  He leans down and initiates the first kiss, more than a little hungry for a taste after waiting all day. 

 

Hookups never took their time with him. Whenever Derek and him kissed, he knew it was going to end with him naked. When Jack or Robby kisses him, sometimes it’s twenty minutes before they even get a singular article of clothing off. He’s sure part of it is them teasing him, but Jesus, sometimes he’s a little impatient for it. 

 

“The more you keep thinking the longer I’m making you wait for it,” Jack murmurs in between kisses. 

 

Dennis rolls his eyes and bites the bottom lip of Jack’s mouth just to prove a point. It earns him a swift slap on his ass but Jack’s rubbing the spot immediately. 

 

“Needy.” 

 

“You’re the one who put me here.” 

 

Another sharp smack. “And mouthy. I’m really letting you get away with too damn much.” 

 

“You say that all the time. When are you going to actually do something about it?” 

 

“Keep talking and see.”

 

“What? All bark and no bite, old man?” 

 

Jack responds by grabbing the bottom of Dennis’s - well, Robby’s but at this point it’s basically Dennis’s- hoodie and yanking it over his head. He tosses it off to the side and runs his hands along Dennis’s exposed skin. “I don’t think you understand how nice I am to you. One of these days I’m going to show you how mean I can be.” 

 

“Is that a promise?” 

 

Jack tugs at Dennis’s sweats. “Off. Now.” 

 

He doesn’t even try to grin as he slides off of the bed to quickly undress. Jack slides his shirt off before Dennis crawls back into the bed and resumes the makeout session with renewed vigor. 

 

When he starts to grind down on Jack, he earns a slight groan, low and deep, for his efforts. Jack’s hand wanders up, one still planted firmly on Dennis’s hip. His fingers pinch at one of Dennis’s nipples and he whines in response. 

 

That just delights Jack and he does it again. Dennis tries to retaliate by sliding up and brushing his growing bulge against the one beneath him, but Jack loves a little fight. He pinches once more but forces his tongue into Dennis’s mouth and takes control of the kiss. 

 

He slides his hand up and takes Dennis’s jaw in his hand. He squeezes gently, moving his hand from Dennis’s hip to the curve of his ass, digging his nails in just a little bit. 

 

Dennis breaks the kiss to whine again. Jack keeps his hold firmly on his jaw, thumbing at his bottom lip. 

 

“You’re so pretty like this. All whiny and desperate. I might just keep you here for that alone.” 

 

“I’ll go to the bathroom and get myself off.” 

 

“What, when you’ve gotten used to two people giving you whatever you want? Being waited on hand and fucking foot? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

 

“Watch me.” 

 

“Getting started without me?” 

 

Dennis jumps a little at the noise. Robby’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the two on the bed with a hungry look. Jack doesn’t even flinch. Probably saw him come in and chose to say nothing like the asshole he is.  

 

“He’s a little insatiable.” 

 

Point proven. 

 

“I am not!” Dennis says indignantly. “You started it!” 

 

“Says the one on top of me.” 

 

Dennis makes a clear movement to slide away, but Jack grabs him by his hips and holds him still. “I didn’t say I minded it.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

 

“You two can keep arguing if you want.” Robby tosses his jacket onto their pile of clothes, followed quickly by his scrub top. “I’ve been thinking about this all day and would prefer to enjoy myself for a moment.” 

 

“Does that mean dinner’s going to be late tonight?” 

 

Dennis is answered when Jack grabs ahold of his jaw and brings him back in for another kiss. He can hear Robby moving around and sliding behind them. Feels the hands that wrap around his waist and tug him down slightly until Robby’s satisfied with his position. 

 

He tries to adjust, not entirely sure of Robby’s plan. He’s still sitting facing Jack, slightly elevated on his lap, and Robby’s behind him somewhere. Dennis doesn’t like the fact that he can’t see him, can’t figure out what he’s going to do butRobby just squeezes his hips in warning. 

 

“Stay right there, honey. I’ll be fine down here.”

 

Something wet and warm pokes at his hole and he jumps. Heart beating erratically, he tries to turn around to look at Robby, but Jack pulls his attention back again. Taps his fingers against Dennis’s cheek. “Relax, sweetheart. Just let him enjoy himself.” 

 

Dennis hesitantly sinks back into the kiss. He’s not going to make it known that this is the first time anyone has tried that with him, and he certainly won’t be telling that to these men who will easily make it their mission to see how many times they can get him to come untouched from it. 

 

It’s probably better to never mention it at all, actually. Never, ever. 

 

But Robby’s eager. His hands are spreading Dennis open as his tongue drags across his skin from top to bottom. He slides into Dennis’s hole easily and it makes the med student tremble. It’s foreign, it’s weird, it’s making him harder with every passing second. 

 

Dennis moans into Jack’s mouth as Robby works his fingers inside of him. He knows that those hands have been busy all day, ordering people around, saving lives, and now they’re where they belong. On Dennis, in Dennis, making his vision go fuzzy. They wonder why he can’t function at work half of the time when they eagerly spend hours tearing him apart in bed. 

 

“Yeah? That feel good, baby boy?” 

 

Dennis just nods, arching his back to give more of himself over to Robby. He’s met with a rewarding flick of the tongue and a small gasp flies out of his mouth. Jack moves his mouth along his shoulder, up his neck. Each small bite is smoothed over with a kiss and Dennis wants to weep when he thinks about the marks he’s going to have in the morning. 

 

A finger slips into his hole, beside Robby’s warm tongue and Dennis moans. Fucking Robby, always knowing just how to touch him to pull him apart. 

 

Jack slides a hand around Dennis’s cock and pumps it twice, lazy and mean. “Seems like you don’t even need me to touch you. I bet you could make a mess just because of Michael’s tongue, don’t you?” 

 

Dennis tries to respond but Robby thrusts in a second finger, and it brushes against the spot that makes him grip at Jack’s shoulders, digging his nails into the skin. Jack hisses a bit at the sting but if they’re playing like this, Dennis doesn’t care. 

 

“So sensitive,” Jack mutters, tugging at Dennis’s nipple again. “Want to come like this? Just by being touched so nicely?” 

 

Dennis shakes his head a little. He wants Jack’s hand back on his cock. He wants to be greedy, to be touched everywhere, and it’s their fault. Like Jack said, they’re the ones that give him whatever he wants. 

 

They’re everywhere and generous and loving and it’s infuriating. 

 

Robby curls his fingers up and Dennis jumps, another hitch in his breath. 

 

“I know, baby, I know,” Jack soothes mockingly. “Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

 

“Please,” Dennis pleads, a little desperate. He tries to move Jack’s hand back to his cock, but his wrists just get pinned down on his thigh. Jack keeps teasing at his nipples, dragging his fingers up his chest while Robby keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of Dennis at an agonizingly perfect pace. “Please, Jack, just touch me!”

 

Jack hums a response. “You can do it, sweetheart. We know you can. You want to be good for us, don’t you?”

 

That’s just not fair. Robby moves his tongue again and Dennis shivers. 

 

His cock is red and angry in  between his and Jack’s bodies. There’s precum just barely dribbling out of the slit and if Jack would just barely touch him, he knows he’d be done for. 

 

“Please? Just a little?” he tries again. 

 

“You’re so spoiled. What, this isn’t enough for you?” Jack emphasizes his words by pinching sharply at one of Dennis’s nipples. It makes the blonde tremble, another loud moan spilling from his mouth. “Be a good boy, angel. If you want one of us to fuck you, be a good boy for us.” 

 

Jack slides his hand up as he speaks, and there’s a little, tiny bit of pressure at the sides of Dennis’s neck, just barely tightening his airway. 

 

Something snaps in him, and he feels the heat of his release over his chest before he even realizes what’s happening. There’s a fire ignited at the base of his spine and he can only grip onto Jack’s shoulders, knuckles going white, as he comes, legs trembling at the sensation. 

 

He leans against Jack’s hold, trying to catch his breath, but they’re the one insatiable ones tonight. 

 

Robby slaps his hand against Dennis’s pale skin and he yelps the tiniest bit. “I think he’s ready for you, Jack, baby.” 

 

In a blink, Dennis is being pushed off Jack’s lap, rolled around, onto his stomach. Jack slaps the same spot Robby had. “Up. C’mon, sweetheart.” 

 

With a whimper, he moves to his hands and knees, offering himself up to Jack, his release still drying on his chest. 

 

Robby’s the one that speaks first. “God, you look beautiful like this, angel.” 

 

If his entire body wasn’t already red, it is now. He’s not used to it. The way that they watch him and look at him like he’s something so rare and special and good for them. Just for them. 

 

“Go on,” Jack tells him from behind, slowly dragging his cock against Dennis’s ass. It makes him shiver, goosebumps rising along his skin. “Show Robby how thankful you are for him getting you prepped like that.” 

 

Batting his lashes, Dennis leans down and drags his tongue along Robby’s length. He presses small, light kisses in a way that he knows they both hate. They’re allowed to tease and play with Dennis, but he’s learned very quickly that they don’t share the same sentiment for him. 

 

“Cute.” Robby flicks his hip forward and Dennis has to remind himself to breathe through his nose as he’s quickly filled with the entirety of Robby’s cock. “You’re always such a fucking tease.” 

 

Dennis swallows around his length as best as he can. Robby’s so heavy on his tongue, making his tongue work harder to get a rise out of the one above him. Robby’s hand finds the back of Dennis’s head, threading his fingers through his curls, guiding him as Dennis bobs up and down, trying to get back at Robby for making him lose his mind with his warm mouth. 

 

Jack thumbs at his hole just enough to get Dennis’s cock kick in interest. When he sinks in, it’s slow, intentional, making sure Dennis can feel the stretch of every inch. 

 

When Jack bottoms out, Robby thrusts into his mouth again and Dennis gags a little, trying to catch his breath. 

 

“Too much?” Robby asks, watching him through darkened eyes. He pulls out just barely, the tip of his cock resting on Dennis’s lips. 

 

Dennis nods, eyes watery. 

 

“That’s too bad.” Robby pushes back in easily. “We all know you can take it.” 

 

They move in tandem, at one point leaning above him and kissing as Dennis whines, jealous of their ability to act as if nothing is happening below them. And a little desperate for a kiss himself. 

 

“You know,” Jack says conversationally like he’s not actively buried inside Dennis. “We should really work on your concentration.” 

 

Dennis just huffs in response, pulling off of Robby’s cock to argue. “You’re both one to talk.” 

 

Jack responds by snapping his hips back against Dennis’s frame. It earns him a surprised squeak. “You just get too damn distracted, sweetheart.” 

“What could possibly be going through your dirty little head at work, hm?” Robby asks. 

 

He thrusts his cock back inside Dennis’s mouth before he can respond. 

 

And that’s…that’s a lot. He can’t think. Can’t do anything other than lay there and take it. 

 

When they both thrust in at the same time, a high pitched moan comes out of his body before he can stop it. 

 

“Yeah, Denny baby? You do so much better when you can’t argue with us.” 

 

“Should just keep you here like this,” Jack grunts behind him. “Keep you in our bed waiting so you can’t go get into any trouble.” 

 

And that’s just not fair because half the time trouble just finds him. Not that he can argue that when they’re both doing everything they can to fuck him as deeply and as roughly as possible. 

 

Robby slides his cock a little too harshly and Dennis gags at the weight of it. Jack hits a spot so perfect his vision gets a little spotty from how good it feels. 

 

It’s overwhelming. They’re everywhere, they’re always all over him and one step ahead and he can’t ever get caught up. They’re the most omnipresent men he’s ever known and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when they tire of him. How he can possibly keep going. 

 

Jack’s thrusts get a little faster and Dennis knows he’s close. He slides his knees apart a little more, offering more of himself up. 

 

“Fuck, Denny.” Jack’s hands squeeze on his hips harshly. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” 

 

Robby’s hand is running through his curls as he grins. “Just made to take us, weren’t you?” 

 

Dennis hasn’t felt certain what his body was ever meant for. Punishment, worship, healing, hurting. But here, in between the men who call him things that make him blush and his heart burn, here he thinks he might finally get an answer as to what his body was created for. 

 

Jack spills into him with a throaty groan, and the feeling of being filled makes Dennis tremble and with whitened vision, he comes from the sensation. When Robby spills into his throat with a grunt, Dennis eagerly swallows it all, not even caring how pathetic he looks. 

 

Robby slides out first, a line of cum barely connected his tip to Dennis’s lips. He wipes it away softly, sweetly, and Dennis can’t help but lick the rest of it off of his fingers. Jack pulls out, and groans at the sight of Dennis’s still twitching hole, but Dennis doesn’t have a round three in him tonight. 

 

He collapses onto the bed, tired and legs twitching from the effort of keeping himself upright. 

 

They move him around a little, and a hand finds his hair like always, combing through it. The motions only lull him into half sleep, eyes closed and breathing slowing. They’re having some sort of conversation above him and he loves hearing their voices, even if he can’t understand what they’re saying. 

 

Someone squeezes at his leg. “Come on, angel. You need to shower.”

 

He mumbles a response into the sheets. Whoever’s hand is in his hair scratches at his scalp lazily. 

 

“Words, this time, please?” 

 

“No.” 

 

It’s Robby that laughs and Jack who pinches his leg in response. 

 

“You’ll feel better if you do. And Jack said he’d order whatever food you want for dinner. Even that Chinese place you and Santos constantly stop at.” 

 

“I never said that.” 

 

Dennis picks his head up enough to pout at Jack. “Please?” 

 

Jack’s entire face softens the second he sees Dennis’s flushed and fucked out face. “Okay, angel. Whatever you want as long as you shower, yeah?” 

 

It takes the promise of egg rolls and wontons to get him out of the bed. He tried for dessert too, but they held the line there. 

 

Robby’s the one who goes into the shower with him, gently moving his pliable form under the spray of the water. Dennis leans back against his chest and sighs, letting the warmth wash over him as Robby wraps his arms around his form, holding him sweetly for a few minutes. 

 

“You know he’s going to hide the egg rolls and lie about it if you don’t move fast enough.” 

 

Dennis groans in response. “That’s just evil.” 

 

He lets Robby wash him clean and thinks about being washed clean as snow and purified souls. He always thought those verses were more metaphorical than anything else, but something about the way that Robby holds him as he wipes away his sweat feels holier than before. 

 

The food is waiting on the table for him in the kitchen, Jack digging out whatever drink he’s decided he wants. Dennis pulls one of the wontons out and puts it in his mouth before either one of them can tell him not to. 

 

“Give me a minute, sunshine, and then you can eat.” Robby pulls one of the needles out from a drawer that has decidedly become Dennis’s spot for all diabetic supplies. There’s the needles, a back up vial of insulin, and a backup glucose monitor just in case. 

 

“You better up the dose,” Jack warns as he pours himself a generous glass of scotch. “If the amount of sodium in this shit doesn’t kill him, the carbs will.” 

 

“There’s literally vegetables in it.” Dennis picks out the nearest green thing he can find and holds it up. “See?” 

 

“That is covered in oils and salt. It doesn’t even count as a vegetable at this point.” 

 

Dennis deliberately takes a very large bite out of his egg roll and shows the other half of it to Jack. “What about that?” 

 

Jack just stares at him in disgust. Robby shakes his head and slides the bottom of Dennis’s shirt up to show the skin. “Quick pinch, sunshine.” 

 

“When you get a high glucose level in three hours, don’t come fussing to me.” 

 

He does go fussing to Jack who says nothing as he gets him water and administers a correction shot with a kiss on his forehead. 

 

Spoiled, at their leisure, he thinks later, curled up in between the two men, covered with a blanket, and drifting off to sleep.

Notes:

I really really loved writing this chapter. Am I exhausted? Beyond belief. Are finals done? Thank god yes.

Also do you guys understand how fucking weird it is to be minding my own business on twitter and then seeing a screenshot from this fic? The screech I let out when I realized it was mine?

I'm lurking. I'm always lurking.

But enjoy the moment of calm before the storm. I'm about to put this bitch through the ringer.

Chapter 16

Notes:

let's pretend that I know what I'm talking about

I say to God: Do not declare me guilty, but tell me what charges you have against me. - Job 10:2

 

Dennis stares at the laptop screen and wonders how much it would set him back if he just reached out and snapped it in half. 

 

His advisor had jumped from the ‘you’re not behind’ stage to the ‘get your shit together’ stage very quickly. Apparently the earlier you filled out internship applications for the matching process, the better your chances were at getting into a top spot. 

 

PTMC was top tier. He knew that. It was the only application he had filled out the day it opened. Everything else felt irrelevant. Why the fuck would he move to a state further north? Over his dead body would he go back out west. And going south meant red states and hopping into the Bible belt which seemed akin to jumping off a roof. 

 

He’s in the top of his class. He’s always been at the top. But he’s horrible at networking. He’s worse at interviews. Getting his top choice was near impossible and he knew that. But getting anything else other than PTMC was nearly unthinkable. 

 

Robby’s in the living room, watching something while Jack squeezes in a nap before his shift. Dennis had all but tied himself to the chair in the kitchen to force himself to go through his inbox, but he wishes he was in either room instead. 

 

It’s just too much and becoming too real. He’s happy with how this rotation is going. But he’s not stupid enough to recognize that with each shift he’s creeping closer to the end, towards graduation, and towards a whole lot of unknowns.

 

Leaving PTMC. Leaving Trinity and their apartment. Samira, Mel, Victoria, even Mateo. Their game nights and bar nights. Dana, Perlah, Princess. People who saw him more than anyone else. 

 

Leaving Robby. Leaving Jack. 

 

What would they even do? He couldn’t see a long distance scenario for their little arrangement. They had their jobs, and he would be starting his career. He would barely have time to see them if he stayed at PTMC, let alone anywhere else. In a different state. 

 

Then again, why was he hopeful for anything after this rotation ended? 

 

He shifts through the different applications his advisor sent him. Any for Nebraska or the surrounding states get deleted immediately. He half heartedly fills one out for a hospital in New York, then one in Philadelphia. 

 

He’s on his fourth application to some random internship in Virginia when he puts his head down and closes his eyes. His head hurts from the thinking, the screen, and the most likely dehydration he can feel because he hadn’t stopped between getting to the townhome and sitting down at the table to take a sip of anything other than coffee. 

 

Apparently he’s quiet enough to concern Robby. He can hear the thud of his footsteps as he crosses the space between the living room and the kitchen. 

 

“You okay, honey?” 

 

“Yup.” 

 

“You sure?” 

 

“Positive” 

 

“Are you going to look at me when you say that or keep lying?” 

 

“Why do you ask?” 

 

Robby just sighs in response. He closes the space between them, a hand finding Dennis’s back. It’s warm as he rubs soft circles on the back of his - well, Dennis is pretty sure this is actually Jack’s army shirt- top. “What’s all this?” 

 

“Some stuff my advisor sent me to look at,” he mumbles, eyes closed and head still resting on top of his textbook. He practically melts under the warm touch. 

 

“And how is that going for you?” 

 

He gives Robby a thumbs up followed by a middle finger. 

 

It gets him a slight chuckle. “Got it.” 

 

“I’m almost done. I’m going to wrap this one up and call it a night.” 

 

“You want some help?” 

 

He’s a little surprised by the offer that he sits upright. “Sure. I mean, if you want to sit here and do this. It’s pretty boring.” 

 

Robby slides into the chair beside him. He picks up a stack of the papers and starts rifling through them.“What are we looking at?” 

 

“Um, mainly just shifting through the different options. Trying to see which spots are open that have a speciality I’m interested in.” 

 

“So nothing with derm?” 

 

“Jesus, no. Trauma and emergency med are at the top, then peds, and then any sort of ICU.” 

 

“Peds?” 

 

Dennis shrugs, memories flashbacking to Pittfest and pulling Robby off of the floor. “I really like working with kids. I was always good with my nieces and nephews.” 

 

“Better you than me. Any state in particular?” 

 

“Not Nebraska,” he says firmly. “Any other state is fine. Hell, I’ll go to Florida.” 

 

“You’d burn to a crisp.” 

 

“I’ll invest in sunscreen.” 

 

Robby drops the paper a little bit and looks at Dennis exasperatedly. “There’s probably a reason that your advisor is irritated with you.” 

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He scans the list on the email chain. “It feels like I just picked Pittsburgh for med school. I didn’t think I’d be back to making decisions again so soon.” 

 

“At least you’re comfortable moving. People get held up when they get picky about the places they’ll move too.”

 

Dennis tries not to think about that. “I guess I could do the East coast if I had too. I’ve never been that close to the ocean. And I can go with all the free time that I’ll have.” 

 

“That’s exactly what first years are known for.” Robby shuffles the papers spread out around the table. “You’ve still got plenty of options with your parameters. You think about bigger cities? New York? Philly?” 

 

No and no. 

 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m trying to keep my options open.” 

 

There’s the creak of the bedroom door and Jack shuffles into the kitchen, bleary eyed but dressed for his shift. He looks at the mess on the table and shakes his head. 

 

“That time already?” he asks as he moves towards the coffee pot. “It gets here faster every year.” 

 

Dennis will not be bothered to inquire why Jack knows exactly what he’s doing based on the time of year alone. He will not be bothered by the fact that this might not be the first time Jack and Robby have had a med student sitting at their kitchen table. 

 

“Pretty decent list at least. You’ve got some good options.” 

 

“What are we looking at so far?” 

 

Dennis just slides the laptop over to Jack, who leans over him, and Dennis has to swallow thickly and not look at his arms as he reads through. 

 

“Boston’s got a great peds program.” Robby nods. “Stanford too.” 

 

“John Hopkins is good for emergency. Duke and Southern Cal.” 

 

“You still keep in contact with that one army guy at Duke?” 

 

“Relatively. Pretty sure he’s still out there.” 

 

Something not quite like jealousy and not quite like panic either floods his chest. They’re throwing out places states away. Places he didn’t even look at for med school. Each spot is further and further from the one place he feels safe in. 

 

That was part of this, he tries to remind himself. Figuring out what they wanted. Giving it up to them. If they show no interest in where he goes, they clearly plan on this being a part time arrangement. 

 

It’s too much. It’s too real. They clearly don’t care where he ends up, and that makes something ugly turn in his chest. 

 

“Well this was fun.” He slaps his laptop shut and shoves it away from his touch. “I’ll just dedicate a day to applying nonstop in the next few days.” 

 

“You don’t want to just get it done now?” Robby asks, brow furrowing. 

 

“I still have a few months to figure it out.” 

 

Jack points at a line on the paper. “Aren’t applications due this month?” 

 

Dennis snags the paper back with a scowl and stands, starting to shove things back into his backpack. “What are you, a cop? My advisor? I’m working on it.” 

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “Don’t come to me when you’re drowning in applications and want me to forge your signature.” 

 

Dennis just responds by reaching up on his tiptoes and kissing him. 

 

Even at work, he can’t escape the internship talk. Victoria corners him by the lockers when he arrives with a yawning Trinity. He’s already a little over exhausted from staying up late to talk Trinity off a ledge of calling the Halloween girl back. That coupled with running behind and failing to give himself his usual morning dose, he’s already not looking forward to the day ahead. 

 

“Did you see that they’re adding three new intern spots at Presbyterian?"

 

Presbyterian is on the other side of the city. A solid forty minute drive on a good day. And over an hour on a bus. 

 

“No. Where did you see that?” 

 

“I’m on the email listing server for internship spots.” 

 

“You have an entire year left.” 

 

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Where have you applied so far?” 

 

Dennis can count on one hand. “I don’t know. A couple?” 

 

Trinity frowns at him as she shuts her locker. “Have you not started on those yet?” 

 

Dennis shrugs. “They’re a work in progress.” 

 

He doesn’t want to explain that filling out the applications means accepting the fact that he might not be here in a year. In six-ish months. That the people he’s met, the closeness he’s worked so hard for, might disappear again once he hits submit. 

 

“Well, you better make faster progress. You know they don’t offer extensions,” Samira says, wrapping her stethoscope around her neck.  

 

“Yes, Samira, I am well aware.” 

 

“I had already applied to twenty spots by November,” Mel recounts and when the fuck did they all get here for this? “And I think I ended with about sixty.” 

 

“Yeah, I was a little under that,” Trinity nods. 

 

“Congratulations,” he says drily. 

 

They follow him into the halls, towards the Hub where Robby is already in deep conversation with Dana and Collins. 

 

“How many are you going to apply for?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Are you going to apply for the open spots here?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Have you talked to any programs yet?” 

 

“I haven’t even checked my email in three days.” 

 

“Do you have enough recommendation letters?” 

 

“I sure hope so.” 

 

“What about-” 

 

“I don’t know,” he snaps before he can help himself. “And I’m a little over thinking about it, let alone talking about it. So can you all please just leave me alone?” 

His tone catches them all off guard, but he also sees Robby’s head swivel towards him. Between the confused stares of the girls and the knowledge that Robby knows he’s already in a mood, he wants an out as soon as possible. 

 

“Hey, I need some help with an incoming transport!” Collins calls to the small group. 

 

Dennis moves before anyone else can claim it, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves and following Collins out into the ambulance bay. He tries to take a deep breath but he can feel a growing frustration in his stomach. 

 

“Hey, Whitaker. Having a good morning so far?” the resident grins. 

 

“Something like that. They say how far out they are?”

 

“Six minutes. Coming from one of the elementary schools I think. Surprised there’s something this early, but that’s kids for you.” 

 

Dennis knows he should keep the small talk going but he just wants a second to breathe. He half wishes he had worn a long sleeve under his scrubs because the temperature had officially started dipping into the twenties on the daily. He could feel it in his hands and feet more than anything else. 

 

Fucking anemia. 

 

By the time the ambulance does turn into PTMC, sirens wailing, he has to clamp his mouth down to stop his teeth from chattering. 

 

The doors of the ambulance burst open and he’s a little taken aback by how small the body on the stretcher is. 

 

“Unconscious ten year old. Fell off of a slide before school started. No signs of a concussion but is not responsive.” 

 

“What’s her name?” Dennis reaches down to check the pulse even though he knows she’s fine. There’s something about the paleness of her cheeks that’s unsettingly familiar. Her pulse is steady, not erratic. But it’s still slower than it should be. 

 

“Lucy. Parents are on the way, they said she has no major allergies or recent illnesses.” 

 

“Okay. Let’s get a full lab workup.” Collins nods over at the nearest empty trauma bay. “Move her in there and we should go ahead and start an IV with fluids.” 

 

Dennis follows, pulling a clean pair of gloves on as they go, and helps maneuver the tiny body off of the stretcher. He thinks Silas is nearly ten now, which is just weird to think about, the nephew that he met in the hospital being the same age as this girl. 

 

Collins goes through the initial check up, checking her airway and vitals, while Dennis gets a fresh vial of blood and hands it off to Donnie to get expedited to the labs. Collins keeps talking to the girl but Lucy never responds. Not to the blood being taken, the prodding, or even the needle sliding into her forearm. 

 

They’ve just gotten her hooked up to an IV drip when Donnie reappears. 

 

“Got the labs back.” 

 

Dennis takes the iPad from Donnie’s offered out hand. He starts scrolling through the different tests, looking for anything out of the ordinary. His hand freezes on his sixth scroll. He can feel his heart drop into his stomach. 

 

“Her blood glucose is well into the 20s range.” Dennis glances between the screen and the small girl not moving on the bed. “She’s diabetic, or at least has hypoglycemia. She didn’t have a pump or anything when she came in?” 

 

“No, nothing. No medical alert bracelet or anything. Parents didn’t say anything about it on the phone either.” 

 

“We need to start her on a line of dextrose now. She might need a glucagon shot to speed it up.” Dennis takes the offered out fluid bag from Donnie and goes to hang it himself. “We’re going to need to recheck every fifteen minutes until she’s up or awake.”

 

“You think she didn’t know?” 

 

Dennis can’t even count how many times he got to nearing the point of passing out prediagnosis. “Probably not. Or at least knew and was too busy being a kid to notice the signs. Let’s order a head CT just to check in with that fall.” 

 

Collins eyes him from the edge of the bed. “You okay staying with her until the parents arrive? Every fifteen minutes is going to be a lot.” 

 

“Yeah, I can do that. As long as you’re okay with it.” 

 

The senior resident shook her head with a smile. “You’re clearly more on it with this one. I trust you to handle it solo.”

 

Dennis just nods and gets things set up for the next glucose test. 

 

It takes a little over half an hour for the girl to begin stirring. Dennis is in the middle of another reading when her eyes flutter open. 

 

“Hey, Lucy, how are you feeling?” 

 

“My tongue feels weird,” she mumbles, still out of it. Her forehead is clammy and Dennis wipes off a bit of the cold sweat for her. “Where am I?” 

 

“You’re at the hospital. Do you remember what happened at school?” 

 

She shakes her head slowly. “I think I was outside? Everything was fuzzy. I don’t remember.” 

 

He can hear the panic creeping into her voice and he pats her arm as reassuringly as he can. Her glucose level has increased considerably which provides some relief. “That’s okay. I have moments like that too. Your mom and dad are going to be here soon though, alright?”

 

“Okay.” She eyes the monitor in Dennis’s hands warily. “Are you going to use that on me?” 

 

“I might have to in a little bit, yeah. But I will let you know beforehand, okay?” He spots Perlah checking in with a concerned expression and he waves her over. Stepping outside of the room just barely, he drops his voice. “Any updates on the parents?” 

 

“Not sure. I know Dana called.” She nods at the bed. “I can stay with her if you want to go check in.” 

 

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.” 

 

They switch out easily and Dennis heads towards the hub, scanning for any signs of Dana as he goes. 

 

“Whatcha got?” 

 

He hates how relaxed he can feel his body get as soon as he hears Robby’s voice. The two fall into step together. 

 

“Um, ten year old, possibly diabetic.” He hands off the iPad to the attending.  “She’s got a hypoglycemic reading right now and we’re administering dextrose through an IV.” 

 

“What’s your plan for when she wakes up?” 

 

“We’ll do an oral glucose test. Probably easiest but I mean with a glucose reading this low, I feel like it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.” 

 

He’s surprised by the bitterness in his voice. 

 

“Hey.” Dennis looks up at the soft tone. Robby’s head is titled, watching how Dennis responds. “You want someone else on this?” 

 

“I’m fine. Really.” 

 

“You’re running a little high. It might be best to take a break before her parents get here.” 

 

“I will. I just need to check on a few-” 

 

“Dennis.” 

 

He flushes under Robby’s stern glare. “Yeah. Okay, okay. If you can check in with Dana for me.” 

 

Robby squeezes his shoulder. “Done.” 

 

He can’t even make it to the end of the hall before Collins is calling for him from inside of another room. She’s busy with Mel, working on someone else brought in for an emergency thoracotomy. “I need you to check on the patients in seven and thirteen. Any updates on our hypo kid?” 

 

“She’s awake. Her glucose was 126 and I plan on ordering an oral glucose test once her parents get here to consent to it.”

 

“Perfect. Let me know what they say or if they have any questions.” 

 

Any chance for a break is squandered with Collin’s directive. He spends the next hour and a half moving through the patients and treating them. Every time he tries to find Robby, the man is either busy with a procedure himself or Dennis is handed a new task. 

 

He’s in the middle of treating a minor wound burn when Princess pops her head in. “Lucy’s parents are here. Where do you want them?” 

 

“Give me ten minutes and I can take them back to her.”

 

He moves quickly, sanitizing his hands before heading to the chairs that Princess points at. 

 

Lucy’s mom has the same red hair as her daughter. Both parents look anxious, the dad’s leg bouncing as they wait. He tries to calm his nerves as he walks up to them. 

 

“You both are here for Lucy, right?” 

 

They stand quickly. He sticks his hand out. “Dennis Whitaker. I’m the med student working with your daughter.” 

 

“I’m John, this is my wife Hope.” 

 

“Is she alright? Can we see her?” 

 

“Yeah, she is awake and waiting for you both.” He waves for them to follow him. “How has Lucy been in the last few weeks? Less energy, more of it? Lingering thirst, frequent urination?” 

 

“Uh-” John runs a hand through his hair. “Less energy. The thirst, I mean, yeah, she’ll drain a glass of juice and ask for more ten minutes later.” 

 

“She’s nauseous with it too. And she’s lost a lot of weight.” 

 

“Okay. We can run an oral glucose test if you’re okay with it. We’ll give her a certain amount of a sugary drink and if her glucose spikes then we can see if it’s just hypoglycemia versus a type one diabetes diagnosis.” 

 

“How long would that take?” 

 

“Two hours or so? It just depends on how her glucose responds.” 

 

The parents sign the paperwork easily and Dennis orders the test once Collins signs off. He bounces from patient to patient, feeling a little weird about being able to do things on his own. 

 

His headache has passed the point of no return. He feels sluggish and wound up at the same time. But he can’t find a moment to slip away. 

 

Trinity finds him at one point when they work on a patient with a busted ear drum. “Victoria wants to know if you hate her now.” 

 

“What?”

“You got snappy with her.” His roommate shrugs. “You know how sensitive she can be.” 

 

“I just need one day where someone doesn’t remind me that I have an internship year coming up. I’ll apologize to her later.” 

 

Dennis must still sound annoyed because she rolls her eyes at him. “Jesus, dude, fine. Let me know when you’re done being an asshole too, please.” 

 

He shakes his head and leaves her to update the family. Princess finds him with a grim face and hands him papers for Lucy. “Oral glucose test is over. She’s well into the 300s and developing ketones.” 

 

“Oh.” He takes a shallow breath. “Okay. Um, did Collins see yet?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

“Great. I’ll go find her and we’ll inform the family. She’s going to need a bed in peds soon and we’ll need a pediatric endo too. Do you think you can get a hold of a diabetic educator or if Kiara can? Someone to come and help with the transition?” 

 

Princess looks moderately impressed. “Sure thing. I’ll see if we’ve got someone on call. Do you have any preference in who I call in pediatrics?” 

 

Dennis runs through the doctors from his rotation and names the one who worked best with the newly diagnosed patients. Princess nods and heads off towards the central desk to start making Collins. 

 

He finds her leaning against one of the desks, updating a patient’s chart. He runs through the updates with her and she looks oddly pleased with how he’s handling everything. It almost makes the tension in his head, pain behind his eyes, thirst, and nausea worth it. 

 

“Great work, Whitaker. Knew there was a reason you were able to survive the night shift.” 

 

Dennis smiles faintly. “Thanks. Are you free to update Lucy’s family?” 

 

“Yeah, I guess we should beat the endo team before they ruin the surprise. Poor kid.” 

 

He tries not to think about all the things that poor kid is about to deal with as they walk back towards the room. 

 

“Oh, I heard someone mentioning you have residency applications going on.” 

 

Does anyone mind their fucking business anymore? 

 

“I have some contacts in Boston and San Francisco if you’re interested. Just let me know.” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thanks, Dr. Collins.” 

 

She smiles at him before they enter the room. Her introduction and explanation are brief, medical, and frustratingly vague. He can see it in the parents' faces. Like they’re not quite sure how they’re supposed to react. 

 

“Whitaker here is going to make sure Lucy’s blood glucose starts to get back down to where it needs to be before she heads up to peds.” She looks over at the student doctor who moves towards the hospital bed. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

 

He nods in reply, already working to take Lucy’s glucose level. She’s thankfully asleep but her rosy cheeks give away her higher glucose. He waits for a few moments after Collins leaves to let the parents sit in the new information. 

 

“She’s running a little higher but we’ll get a correction for her and she should start coming down. She can have water when she asks and if she gets hungry just let me know and we can get her more.” 

 

“She can’t eat without it?” Hope asks in confusion. Dennis shakes his head. 

 

“No, anything with carbs is going to require an amount of insulin to treat it.” 

 

“Oh.” She rubs her head in small circles. “So she can’t eat anything.” 

 

“Not necessarily. You’ll learn in time what’s higher in carbs and what’s not.” 

 

“This is just-” John shakes his head. “Type one doesn’t even run in our family.” 

 

“That’s not quite how type one works,” Dennis says gently. He wishes someone had told him that, or at least his parents. They’d made it seem so frustrating that Dennis was the one that slipped through the cracks and fucked his body up on his own. 

 

“But what could have caused it?” 

 

“There are several factors that could have been at play but it’s nearly impossible to narrow that down.” 

 

He could name a few, though. Not being good enough, God being vengeful, not praying as much as you should, loving someone who was kinder than most. 

 

“You have to have some idea.” Hope gestures at her daughter. “She’s healthy. We take her to the doctor every year, she’s had all of her vaccines, she’s in the best percentiles for her height and weight.” 

 

Dennis is shaking his head with a smile that he hopes isn’t pitiful before she even stops talking. “This is one of those diseases where we don’t always have an answer. This isn’t type two where we could look at lifestyle choices or long-term health issues. She’s just sick.” 

 

It’s so much easier to say when he’s not talking to himself. 

 

“And I know that is not the answer that you’re looking for. But she’s getting the treatment she needs right now, and we should have a bed upstairs for her soon.”

 

“It was one of the scariest phone calls I’ve ever gotten,” Hope admits. “She’s never even gotten in trouble for talking out of turn at school. Getting a call about this was just…..” she shakes her head and wipes away a few tears. “I don’t know how to explain it to her either. I mean, is she ever going to have a normal life?” 

 

Shots in stairwells and empty juice bottles play through Dennis’s head. 

 

“I wouldn’t focus on one idea of normal. She has a different normal now, and it’s important that you can support her through that.” 

 

“She’s an active kid. She’s the best on her soccer team,” John smiles. 

 

“She still can be. She can still be an active, reckless kid like she was before. She just has to make some adjustments to keep herself safe.” 

 

“How do we do that?” 

 

“There is a diabetic educator on the way who is going to walk through it with you. They’re a clinical expert and have been through extensive training. This isn’t their first rodeo, even if it’s yours. They should be here soon, okay?” 

 

“Yeah, of course. Thank you.” 

 

Dennis stares at the hand for a minute before taking it and shaking it firmly. “I’m around if you need anything. Same with Dr. Collins out there.” 

 

He leaves them with their daughter and heads to one of the computers to update her chart. His chest feels tight as he moves, something raw and aching. He starts rubbing at it, trying to figure out if it’s heart attack or pure anxiety. 

 

Even with the chaos of the ER, something else is pulling his focus. His typing is abysmal. Every three words is a typo and he can’t stop his leg from shaking. He nearly jumps when someone finally makes a noise next to him. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

Robby’s standing beside him for the first time in hours. Leaning over the counter as Dennis stares at the computer screen, silently watching him spiral. Dennis shakes his head, unsure of how he didn’t even notice. 

 

“Yeah. Hits a little close to home. Obviously.” 

 

He doesn’t mention that at his own diagnosis, he had a nurse that tried to pray out his sickness while he threw up into a bag. Or that the doctor had asked him what he had been doing in the weeks prior to coming to the hospital. 

 

“You did well. You explained it efficiently and didn’t diminish any of their fears. The diabetic educator will set them up with an endocrine specialist here and they’ll get a good support system going.” 

 

“How did you-“ 

 

“I was hanging around with another issue. Overheard it. That’s all.” 

 

Stalker, Dennis thinks silently. 

 

“You did good. She’ll be alright.”

 

“No, I know. I just…Poor kid didn’t do anything to deserve it.” 

 

The rest of his thoughts remain unspoken. But his tone is clear enough. 

 

“Neither did you,” Robby says softly. His hand flexes like he wants to put it on Dennis and for once, Dennis doesn’t think it’ll be good if he does. 

 

“I did. I do.” 

 

“Dennis-” 

 

“I’m not saying she did. I’m saying I did. I know that. Everyone in my hometown knew that. Everyone in my family reminded me of that.” He forces himself to take a deep breath. “It’s just how it goes. For me, at least.” 

 

“That doesn’t seem fair. That seems like a lot for you specifically to have to carry.” 

 

“It’s what I get. What I deserve.” 

 

The beliefs slip through his lips easily. They’re still buried deep in him, tangled and rooted in the very core of his being. He can’t rip them out, he can’t reshape his worldview. 

 

No matter what he does, he’s always back in that church pew, being screamed at for being the way that God made him, and never learning why. 

 

“Sunshine-” 

 

Nope. No, absolutely not, not here. Not now.

 

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” He shoves the chair away from the screen and stands abruptly. “I’ve got a few patients to check up on anyway. I’ll keep an eye on her until the educator gets here.” 

 

He leaves a clearly confused Robby behind and starts moving towards the north hall. 

 

But he keeps moving. Out of the Pitt, up the stairs, away from everything, moving so fast he’s a blur in the hall. 

 

He’s on the eighth floor before he even realizes it. Back in his old room, holding a fist up to his mouth, not sure if he’s going to scream or sob or both. 

 

It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair and insane to be jealous of a ten year old. To wish that he could relive his diagnosis to get some semblance of care. 

 

To be taken care of just because he was a child and deserved it. Not because he had to give something in return, or rather because he couldn’t give enough in return on the farm, in the house, in church, to God. 

 

No where he goes is far enough. He’s never going to make it out of that house, that church, that fucking town. 

 

There is something so deeply wrong with him. Some part of his soul is tainted and he doesn’t think it’ll ever be clean again. The tears falling down his cheeks can’t purify his existence and neither can the God that put him here. 

 

He gives himself ten minutes to sit. Arms wrapped around his frame tightly as his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. Staring at the tile floor and counting the squares in one row, over and over and over. Until the tears run out and his body stops shaking. 

 

When his breathing is normal and his face feels less tear stained, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow inhale. He makes himself stand, and walk into the bathroom. Washes his face, his hands, taking deep, shaky breaths the entire time. He stares into the mirror, just for a second, to make sure his face isn’t too red. 

 

His eyes are a little puffy, so he takes a wet paper towel and holds them against the swollen skin for a few moments each. Until they’re back to their normal, dark circled self. 

 

Before he leaves the room, he pulls out his phone just to see if anyone had messaged him in his brief absence. 

 

There’s a text from Robby at the top. 

 

Make sure you dose and eat something

 

He reads it, rereads it, and rereads it. His hands tighten around the device. 

 

There is something evil in him that purposefully reads the text and ignores it. Pockets his phone before heading back downstairs. 

 

And skips lunch but purposefully chugs one of those sugary energy drinks. And skips the midafternoon correction he usually needs. And refuses to stop to drink any water. 

 

The anger is so refreshing flowing through his veins. Fueling him in a way that makes his head buzz and keeps his hands steady. He remembers how angry his parents and brothers always were. He gets it on days like these. Why they were always so bitter and mean to him. It’s so much easier to be angry than to be soft and meek and mild. 

 

If his disease can give him one thing, it’s anger. If it’s ever given him anything, it’s anger. 

 

If God’s ever let him have one thing, it’s a reason to have fury. 

 

He steadily avoids Robby or anyone who he doesn’t want fussing at him, like Dana. Even when Robby pointedly moves him off a case three separate times. Even when Trinity makes a face at his snappy response to her question about his plans for the evening. Even when Victoria mouths what is his problem? At Mel when he goes out of his way to avoid any of the girls for the rest of the shift. 

 

He’s good at sequestering himself off. He stays steady with McKay on chairs and triage, going through the motions, and letting himself respond to snarky patients with an equal amount of bitterness. It takes them aback and silences him. He feels like he’s won something, somehow. 

 

Robby looks more and more alarmed every time he passes by the attending. Like he’s checking his phone every few minutes to see if Dennis has done anything. It’s evident he’s not and Dennis knows that look that he gets. The one with the dipped chin and smoldering brown eyes. He knows that means he’s done for the second Robby gets him alone. 

 

But he can’t. Because they work in a fucking hellhole and nothing can stop the steady flow of patients. 

 

Sure, he has a raging headache from the high blood glucose. He’s nauseous from the lack of food and probably ketoacidosis. He’s so thirsty his throat aches. 

 

He feels fucking awful and he lets it consume him like a wildfire. 

 

Jack is the one that corners him in the hall as he’s getting ready to leave. His face is calm but concern is evident in the tightness of his mouth. 

 

“Want to tell me why you’ve been throwing a fit all day?” 

 

Dennis scoffs, roughly pushing his unopened snacks into his bag. “I have not.” 

 

“Not according to Robby. Or Dana, who told me that the puppy had teeth today. Or McKay who said this is the first day you haven’t had a smile on your face in a very long time.” 

 

“Everyone else has bad shifts. Why can’t I?” 

 

“Everyone has bad shifts and works through their shit. You have a bad shift and make it evident that you can’t do that. Instead it becomes everyone else’s problem.” 

 

“I’m not making it everyone else’s problem.” He puts his jacket on with tight motions. “Just because I stop saying yes to whatever someone asks of me doesn’t mean I’m being a problem.” 

 

Jack crosses his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that if I’m getting texts and calls from multiple people, that is something you need to work on. People here do that all the time.” 

 

He scoffs. “That’s just not true. We’ve all seen Mohan when she gets a little manic or McKay when she stops making small talk. No one here has healthy coping mechanisms so I shouldn’t be the only one getting in trouble for it.” 

 

“They do. You’re not as special as you’re making yourself out to be.”

 

That hurts. That hurts.

 

“I think I’m entitled to one bad shift,” he says hotly. “I have enough going on trying to keep myself alive during it. God forbid I let myself feel something for once.” 

 

“You think I’m telling you not to feel it? Denny, feel all of it. I’d prefer that over you shoving it down somewhere you can’t process it.” Jack scoffs. “And let’s not pretend you were taking care of yourself today.” 

 

It’s never enough. He’s never good enough. It’s his own fucking fault for existing. 

 

“Then let me. Let me do something without a lecture.” 

 

Jack laughs meanly. “If you think this is a lecture, you’re going to hate coming over tomorrow night.” 

 

“Then I won’t.” He slams his locker door shut. The shocked look on Jack’s face kind of hurts but that twisted part of him doesn’t care. He feels like he has the upper hand by just denying his presence. “If you’re just going to lecture me here and at ho- at your place, then I’ll just not come over.” 

 

“Dennis.” Jack dips his head to the side. “You can’t be serious.” 

 

“It’s fine. I am fine.” He shoulders his bag and thinks about the bus that he’s probably already missed. “Let’s just leave it at that. Have a great shift, Dr. Abbot.” 

 

There’s a flash of hurt on Jack’s face before it turns into something else. Something mean and something dangerous. But Dennis is already halfway before the door and refuses to turn around to apologize. 

 

He knows he’s being childish. But there’s something dark in him that would rather just fight through this than talk it out. 

 

The texts go unanswered on his phone, and he doesn’t bother to find Trinity in the parking lot. 

 

He walks the entire way to their apartment wondering why the anger isn’t enough to keep him warm.

Notes:

I'm going to fix it and then I'm going to make it worse

see you Thursday :)

Chapter 17

Notes:

if i could reach into your body and fix you i would type of vibes

for the full experience that i went through writing this one, listen to bruises, waco texas, hospital beds, and nettles by ethel cain

I say to God: Do not declare me guilty, but tell me what charges you have against me. - Job 10:2

 

Dennis is a glutton for self flagellation. 

Sometimes he blames his parents who were all too happy to send him to bed without dinner, who made him get up earlier to do extra chores, who flat out ignored him when he needed help. 

Part of him knows it’s also just him and his undying belief that he deserves to suffer for his own life. 

He doesn’t correct his blood glucose. Even as his phone alerts every few minutes. Even when the texts from Robby and Jack alike flood in. Even when he throws up the bare amounts of liquid in him with Trinity banging out the bathroom door, threatening to drag him to the hospital if he doesn’t open up. 

Sleep doesn’t find him that night. 

It’s a rare day where he’s off and the attendings aren’t. He slips out of the apartment before Trinity does, leaving his phone behind purposefully, and takes a bus to school. He flashes his student ID at the library front desk, and heads up to one of the top floors.  

Dennis spends the entirety of his day hiding out in a corner and fills out every application his advisor sent him. Even the ones that peak none of his interest out in California and down in Alabama.

He’s not sure that some of the applications are halfway decent. He does a lot of copying and pasting the same answers, the same lines. He uploads transcripts and recommendation letters until the systems can’t handle any more information. He just keeps pressing submit until his inbox is empty. 

Getting out is suddenly the only thing he wants to do. Pittsburgh is too small and the things he thought were worth staying for seem pointless. Maybe he isn’t having a rational reaction but he’s sick of feeling so…misplaced. Out of the loop. The runt. 

Trinity and the others clearly view him as just a coworker. He barely has a footing in the ER between his struggles with his coworkers, his bosses, and the actual work. Robby and Jack have realized his use has limitations and clearly don’t want him as much as they thought he did. They don’t want his emotional outbursts, the fucked up parts of him, the parts that are ruined and wrong. 

As much as he doesn’t want to start over, it might be for the best. 

Not having his phone means no one can get ahold of him and he can’t get blood glucose notifications. But skipping both breakfast and lunch means he’s finally down to a somewhat normal level because his pains subside. His headache is minor and so is the ache in his muscles. The only thing he consumes is water and even that feels like a chore. 

When he goes back to the apartment, an hour or so before Trinity will be home, he makes a quick dinner for her as a sort of peace offering and leaves it out for her to find. He lets himself have a tiny portion, but doesn’t dose, and skips his long-lasting insulin shot. 

He ignores all notifications, which have turned from text messages to sporadic phone calls. 

Sleep is fitful again that night. And he knows, he knows it’s his own fucking fault. But he needs a break. He needs to remind himself of the punishment that God gave him. 

In between the bouts of nausea and aching, he feels God’s hands on him, painful and cruel and familiar. Who was he to decide that he could have something good? Who was he to think he deserved it? 

He gets up groggily and ignores the pull to take his usual morning insulin. The small pill bottles for his anemia meds sit untouched for the second day in a row. Every motion brings forth waves of dizziness and queasiness. The insulin sits unused in his bag, right next to the worn out leather Bible. He ignores both even as he grabs something to eat as he follows Trinity out the door. 

The ride to work is near silent. He doesn’t know what to say to her, and she clearly has nothing to say to him. 

He doesn’t know how to have fights. His siblings resorted to physical beatdowns, and his parents would just use Bible verses as reasons that he was a failure. His parents kept fights away from them and he got used to hearing his mom cry in the room down the hall at night. The one fight he had with his one real relationship ended with them breaking up. 

He didn’t have friends, ever, so he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do. What the proper protocol is. If this was a patient or a medical issue or a chemistry equation, he could do it. He could fix it. But this isn’t that and he feels so painfully inadequate. 

Trinity only speaks to him as they’re pulling into the hospital. 

“Do you want to tell me what crawled up your ass and died?” 

“I have a headcold.” 

“Fine. What crawled into your head and died?” 

He sighs through clenched teeth. “Jesus, Trin, can you just drop it?” 

“No. You’re being a dick and it’s annoying to be around.”

“Then don’t.” He slams the car door and leaves her glaring at him in the parking lot. “Then don’t fucking be around me. I’ll find another way home tonight.” 

So much for peace offerings. 

Robby doesn’t even look at him when he arrives. Doesn’t even bother to look up from his workstation. He pretends that it doesn’t hurt his feelings. Jack is off tonight and apparently already gone for the day. When none of the girls talk to him, walking past him at the hub, he pretends that it doesn't hurt either. 

It’s one of the quietest days in his rotation. No one treats him horribly, but no one goes out of their way to talk to him either. He sticks to McKay’s side because she’s the only one who actually doesn’t seem to care if he wants to talk or not. She chats enough for both of them, and sends him off to check on things when she decides she’s over the quiet. 

He doesn’t lose a single patient. He doesn’t get a single liquid spilled on him. Every IV finds a vein, every pain dosage is correct, every patient is happy. He doesn’t fuck up a single thing. 

And all he wants to do is go home and sleep. 

He does sneak upstairs for a moment just to get a glimpse of Lucy. The peds nurses just fuss over him at the main desk, asking when he’s coming back, before pointing in the right direction. 

The girl is positively beaming when she sees him. “They said I can go home today!” 

“That’s awesome, Lucy. How are you feeling?” 

She shrugs. “Fine. I don’t like the shots, but I think they’ll get easier.” 

They won’t but he doesn’t say that. 

“I’m sure they will. If anyone can handle it, it’s you.” 

He should take it as a sign to get his shit together. Instead, he skips lunch because he can feel his glucose falling back to a normal level. He still feels like shit, because a normal level at this point means he’s easily in the 200 range and that’s not exactly high, but not exactly great either. 

The glare that Robby gives him when he catches the med student working during his usual break makes him burn red and scurry away to the other side of the ER before he can get yelled at. 

Trinity has already left by the time he makes it to his locker. Samira and Victoria both ignore him as they gather their belongings and chatter about some patient they had shared that day. 

Half of him wants to just find an on-call room and sleep there. It might be easier than going back to the apartment and having to talk about his feelings and why he was being so awful. 

Which, he was sure he had a reason during his shift with the diagnosis, but now? Hell, maybe he had a reason yesterday. Now everything seems irrelevant. 

He leans his head against the metal and just waits for a second. Let it all wash over him. He’s starving and dehydrated. The lack of insulin is starting to get to all points of his body. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

Mel is standing beside him, watching him with a slightly tilted head. 

“Not really,” he admits. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I will be. I just-” he rolls his shoulders. “It’s all a bit too much sometimes. You know?” 

Understatement of the century. 

“I do. But that’s when you have to talk to people and try to have some coping strategies.” She closes her locker and hesitates, adjusting her bag. “I know that you and Trinity are having some sort of fight. Or maybe you’re just stressed. But I’m here if you want to talk. About applications and internships or about nothing. I’m also in your corner, Dennis.” 

He will not cry in front of Mel because neither one of them will know what to do if he does. “Yeah. Thanks, Mel. I’m in your corner too.” 

She smiles at him and leaves him to his thoughts in the hall. It’s the nicest interaction he’s had all day. 

The cold feels good on his overly warm body once he steps outside. There’s not a chance he’s taking a bus at this point, and he doesn’t trust his luck to not have a psychotic Uber driver. 

He’s about to start on the long walk home but before he can take a step forward, the door behind him opens and someone’s beside him. 

Robby’s hand is clamped down on his neck before he can even think to move. “Ah-ah-ah. I don’t think so. Let’s go.” 

Dread pools in his stomach as Robbby guides him with a firm hand towards the parking lot. He doesn’t move his hand as they head straight to Robby’s truck. He feels a little bit like a child who’s going to be scolded and a lot like a prisoner marching towards the gallows. 

He hesitates when Robby opens the passenger door up. He could probably just make a run for it and never have this conversation. Robby’s chin dips down and his face is furious. The grip on his neck tightens like he can just read Dennis’s thoughts and would love for him to try something. 

“Dennis. In. Now.” 

The tone makes him move. Robby shuts the door firmly behind him before he can even think about doing it himself. 

It’s the quietest ride to the townhome he’s ever endured. There’s no chatter, no reviewing of the day, not a comment about his fidgety state. Robby doesn’t even turn music on to fill the void. 

Dennis wonders if he could launch himself out of the car before Robby catches on to his plan. 

The street is eerily silent as they pull up to the home. Robby parks the truck and Dennis begrudgingly gets out. He follows quietly as Robby unlocks the door and shuts it behind him before he can slide out.

He lingers a little awkwardly in the hall, not entirely sure what he’s supposed to be doing, as Robby takes off his jacket and puts his things away. Seeing him unmoving, Robby frowns at him. 

“Quit acting like you don’t know your way around.” 

Dennis sighs but kicks off his shoes and puts them away like normal. As if any of this is fucking normal. 

Jack is already in the kitchen, and doesn’t even look slightly surprised at Dennis’s sullen arrival. They probably made multiple plans to kidnap him one way or another. Controlling assholes. 

He slides into his usual chair at the table, pointedly putting space between them. 

“Thirty four for the pasta, eight for the-” Dennis doesn’t even listen as Jack rattles off the count. Just drops his head on the table and closes his eyes, breathing through the waves of agitation and nausea he feels. He’s not even sure where the nausea is coming from at this point; lack of food or lack of insulin. 

“You want me to prep it?” Robby offers. 

“I don’t want it.” 

It’s quiet for a second before Robby sighs. “Dennis, you’ve been running all over the place for nearly three straight days. You’ve been at a higher level all day.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“You’re going to go into DKA if you aren’t careful.” 

“Fine.”

“This isn’t really a negotiation.” 

“I really don’t care.” He somehow manages to curl up tighter into himself. “I don’t want it.” 

“That’s really too fucking bad. Let Robby give it to you or I swear to God, Dennis, I will hold you down myself. Either way, you’re getting the damn shot.” 

Dennis knows he isn’t necessarily strong, but he’s not a runt anymore. He’s pretty sure that he could take on a race across the house and lock himself in the bathroom. 

Then again, Jack’s a veteran from combat medicine and Robby is a lot bigger than him. And then where would he be? Getting tackled the moment that he left? 

Yeah, probably. 

So he pushes the sleeve of his shirt up without looking up and lets Robby slide the needle in. 

They move around him in the kitchen like he’s not even there. Chatting about work, errands, anything other than him sulking in the chair. It hurts, a little, but he’s too stubborn to show it. 

It hurts a lot, actually. He hates being ignored like this. Too used to their stares and words and praise. He’s had his fill of being ignored for a lifetime. 

He can hear the plate being slid towards him before he smells it. 

“All of it, Dennis.” 

He’s already had the shot and they’re already plenty mad at him. He wouldn’t put it past them to put an IV in him if he doesn’t start eating something soon. He’s honestly so hungry that he doesn’t even want to fight on this one. 

Still, he can’t help but sigh dramatically as he sits up straight, avoiding their gazes, and picking up the fork. He takes note with bitterness that they’ve avoided giving him anything hefty to drink. Even though they both have their usual glasses of preferred wine. And sure, that would just fuck up his glucose levels but he’d at least feel a little more at ease. 

It’s irritating how within a few minutes of eating and having his insulin that he feels so much better. He can feel his temper subside, his aches fade away. Neither one of them says anything about it. They just refill his plate and keep talking, letting him sulk in silence. 

He’s tracing the lid of his glass absentmindedly when Robby finally addresses him. 

“Better?” 

Dennis’s head snaps up to meet their ever watchful eyes. 

“Yeah.” 

“Great. Who would’ve thought the bare minimum would make you feel better?” 

Dennis just glares at Jack. 

“Why don’t we move to the living room for this?” Robby suggests. 

Dennis does not want to know what ‘this’ is, but he has a pretty good guess based on how they both look. 

“Or I could just-” 

“Now, Dennis.” 

He’s moving before he can think twice. Something about Jack’s tone makes him wary of not listening. 

Purposefully sitting on the edge of the couch, he pulls his feet up and tucks them against his chest like it’ll hide him from the men. He refuses to look at either one of them as they sit across from him in their usual spots, Jack in his chair, Robby on the other side of the couch.

Robby breaks the silence. “Alright. We need to address what the hell has been happening for the last few days.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He stares at the rug. 

Jack scoffs. “Fine. Don’t talk, just listen.” 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’ve been doing, but it stops now.” Jack gestures at him. “The skipping shots? Skipping meals? The little ploy of leaving your phone somewhere to not get glucose readings? It’s done.” 

“I’ve already worked it out on the schedule. You’re off until after Thanksgiving,” Robby says firmly. “If you can’t get it under control, I’m ending your rotation early.” 

“You can’t do that!” 

So much for staying quiet. Robby narrows his eyes at him. 

“I can and I will. And I’ll end it by telling your advisor that you have health issues that need to be addressed before you can go onto Family Med.” 

“But that’s- you’re going to fuck me over!” 

“We’re going to keep you alive,” Jack interjects. “You don’t get to make yourself suffer in order to get back at us.” 

“I wasn’t getting back at you.” 

“Then what was it?”

A fair question. What was it? What was any of this? How could he explain that letting himself spiral was sometimes the only semblance of control he had? That it felt good and grounded him? 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Jack says. 

He just shook his head. “I have it under control. And honestly, it’s none of your business.” 

Wrong thing to say. 

“You made it our business the moment you started taking care of patients when you’re not in a space to be doing it,” Robby snaps. “You can’t keep going like this. I thought we were actually getting somewhere with this.” 

“If it was anyone else, would either of you care this much?” 

“If it was anyone else, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, Dennis!” 

“You do understand that the little girl in there could be you at any given point if you don’t get it together?” Jack points out. “You’re going to be the one passed out on a gurney if you don’t stop this nonsense.” 

Dennis scoffs, and stands, ready to just say fuck all and go. “I know it’s hard for both of you to understand, but I did have a handle on things before you got involved. Just because you don’t like what that looks like doesn’t mean I wasn’t taking care of myself.” 

Jack stands with him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, because taking care of yourself was what you were doing yesterday? Today? Skipping lunch and refusing to take a break to get a shot?” 

“I can’t take a break every damn day!” 

“You can when we’ve specifically told you how to ask for one.” 

“So you’re saying I should just walk away when I’m in the middle of a procedure to take a shot or check something?” 

“I’m not saying. I’m telling you that’s exactly what you need to do.” 

Dennis throws his hands up bitterly. “You know what, then? Why don’t you tell emergencies that they have to wait because the student doctor needs a fucking break like a fucking toddler?!” 

“Okay, you know what-” Robby grabs a hold of Dennis’s arm and pulls him down against the couch and into his chest. He folds his arms across Dennis’s waist before he can move. 

“Hey!” Dennis tries to wiggle out of the hold but Robby is irritatingly strong. It makes his stomach do cartwheels. “Robby, come on!” 

“You’re the one making it worse for yourself. I think we made it pretty clear how we feel about your skipping out on meals and shots.” 

“But I was about to win the fight!” 

Robby just scoffs. “You absolutely were not.” 

Jack ran a hand down his face in frustration. “This shouldn’t even be an argument. We shouldn’t be arguing over whether or not you should be taking care of yourself!” 

Dennis opens his mouth to retort but Robby pinches his side softly in warning. “Just take a pause.” He looks pointedly over at his husband. “Both of you.” 

He huffs but quietens, sitting rigidly on the man’s lap. Robby starts moving his hand beneath his shirt in circles, nails grazing the skin of his stomach, and he hates that it feels so calming. That he can feel his body relaxing under his touch. 

Jack sits back down into his chair, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. It’s still tense but he doesn’t feel the urge to flee anymore. 

Once Dennis isn’t so tense in Robby’s hold, he starts again. 

“Okay. Let’s all pretend to be adults for a few minutes. Dennis, you know you’re not taking care of yourself. Can you at least admit to that?” 

Dennis purses his lips. 

“There has to be some give, here Dennis,” Jack says exasperatedly. “If you don’t want your rotation over early, you have to talk through this with us.”

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. He’d prefer if they go back to the in between of him wondering what his purpose was and them pretending to care about him. 

But if they want it, he can give them something. He can give them what they want. He can always do that. 

“Fine. No, I’m not taking care of myself. Happy? Can we be done?”

“No,” both men respond in unison and he bites back a groan. Robby shifts him to where he’s sitting sideways in his lap, curling his arms around him so he’s still stuck but to where he can see both of them. 

“We’re worried, honey,” Robby says softly. He keeps rubbing small circles on Dennis’s stomach. “We’re worried about you and the damage you’re causing yourself.” 

“There’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Yeah? How long did you go without giving yourself a shot before tonight?” 

Dennis will not be answering that. 

Jack nods like he got a response anyway. “Exactly. You chose to ignore what your body needed and suffer through it, to what? Prove a point?” 

“No.”

“Then what?” Jack leans forward in his chair. Dennis shrinks back against Robby a bit and wants to find a way to hide from his stern gaze. “Why are you doing everything you can to ignore your needs? Especially when we’ve made it so clear that we want to help you? Take care of you?”

Guilt floods his chest. He didn’t mean for them to be so offended by it. He never meant for things to get this serious, though. For something like this to happen. 

“Sometimes-” he squeezes his eyes shut. Tries to find the words. “Sometimes ignoring it and just feeling it is better for me.”

“Why? Because you think you deserve it?” 

Yes. 

“No. Maybe. It’s just-” he shakes his head and wishes they were doing anything else other than having this conversation. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s easier, I guess? To pretend it just doesn’t exist.” 

“But it does.” Jack shakes his head at Dennis’s face dropping. “No, listen to me. I get it. You think I don’t understand that? Wanting something to just not be real for an hour? A day? A week?” 

Dennis blinks. They’ve never broached this topic in the slightest. Jack’s hand slides down to rub at his prosthetic as he watches Dennis. 

“I get it, sweetheart. I do. But even when you want those days, it doesn’t change the fact that you have to take care of yourself.” 

“But-” 

“This isn’t an argument you’re winning,” Robby says gently. “You have to take care of yourself. Even if you’re having a bad day.” 

“I don’t want to.” To his horror, he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I want a break.” 

“You don’t get one. And I’m really sorry you don’t get one.” 

“We both are, sweetheart. But you’re not allowed to treat yourself like this.” 

“But-” he swallows thickly. “It’s not that simple.” 

Jack does something between a laugh and a sigh. “It is. It really is.” 

“No, it’s not for me.” 

He says it so desperately and with such infliction that it catches the two men off guard. Something seems to click in Robby’s gaze. 

“What did you mean when you said you deserve it?” Jack turns to stare at Robby who only has eyes for Dennis. “During your shift. You said that kid didn’t deserve it, but you did.” 

“I-” he shakes his head. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” Robby says firmly. “Talk to us, angel.” 

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. There’s too many stories, too many issues to work through and he doesn’t even know where to start. 

Robby shifts and Dennis latches onto the man’s arm before he can move, knuckles white from the grip. If Robby leaves him now, of all times, taking his touch with him… 

The panic must be evident on his face because Jack joins them on the couch. He takes up the other side of Dennis, hand finding his thighs, rubbing and soothingly immediately. 

“Take a breath,” Jack murmurs calmly. “Just take a breath first, Denny baby.” 

Maybe he should feel trapped. Pinned down with no place to hide. But this doesn’t feel like when his parents would yell at him or when the pastor would lecture him or when his brothers would berate him. It doesn’t feel cruel. It doesn’t feel like he’s about to be berated for his existence. 

He fidgets with his hands for a minute. He’s not a child anymore with a family that despises him. He’s not in a space of hatred. Robby and Jack have done nothing but show him kindness and acceptance. 

So he can do this. He can talk about this. 

He takes a long, deep breath. 

“When I was diagnosed,” he says quietly, trying to weave the thoughts together in his head. “It wasn’t like how it was the other day. There weren’t any educators, there was barely a doctor or nurse who knew how to explain it to me or my parents.

“It’s a small community. Everyone knows everyone, and it’s a town that doesn’t believe in medicine. Science. So for me, it wasn’t a random thing that happened. It was a result of me.” 

Jack’s grip tightens on his thigh but he keeps going. 

“I did something to deserve it. That’s what everyone told me, and my parents, and I tried so hard to get rid of it. Or at least not cause as many problems for my family. So I skipped meals, and I took less insulin, and I did everything I could to get rid of it. But it’s still here. 

“It’s something wrong with me and it’s my fault. I did something. Something to have this and I can’t-” he doesn't know when he started crying but there’s tears sliding into his mouth as he hiccups. “I can’t fix it and sometimes it’s easier to just to the bare minimum to slide by. Sometimes it feels better to hurt rather than take care of it.” 

“Dennis-” Robby tries. 

“And you know what?” he continues, tears staining his cheeks. “I think that if I had to do it again, I’d do it the exact same way. I would. I still do. Because I still think that I didn’t do enough the first time. And I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and it’ll just- I’ll just be better for once.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Robby says. 

Dennis shakes his head but Jack reaches out and cups his cheeks to hold him still. “No, Dennis, listen to us. It was not your fault. There was nothing that you did that could have caused this. You know that. You know that, angel.” 

“It’s like you told the parents. You’re never going to know what happened, but there wasn’t anything that you did to cause it, or to deserve it. That’s not how the body works, baby. And I’m sorry no one said that to you when you were diagnosed. When you were the kid in the hospital.”

Dennis bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. 

“But we’re telling you now. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing to deserve this. And you don’t owe it to anyone to hurt yourself to make it easier for other people to deal with.”

“It’s not your job to make your disease easier for other people to handle.” Jack runs a hand through Dennis’s curls. “It’s your job to take care of yourself. You’re allowed to take care of yourself.”

“But-” he shudders through his tears. “But it’s my fault in the first place. It’s my issue to deal with.” 

“No, angel,” Robby says firmly. “There’s not something that you have to endure to be worthy of care. That’s not how this works. You deserve to be taken care of just because you exist.”

Something twists inside of Dennis and he can’t stop the full body sobs that make him shake against Robby. 

It takes him a few minutes to cry it out fully. Neither Robby nor Jack look annoyed or even surprised at his actions. They don’t pull away or tell him to fuck off and get it together. 

They just keep touching him sweetly, and murmuring small praises in his ear. He can’t remember the last time someone held him while he cried. When someone told him it was okay to cry. 

He thinks of the arms of the Father and all the times he was told he could give his woes to God. This is the first time in a while where he feels like his burdens aren’t just his own. 

When he finally does collapse against Robby’s chest, he’s tired and breath hitching slightly. He feels so exposed and tries to hide away, but they won’t let him. Robby kisses his temple and Jack lets him cling to his hand. 

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” 

“Then why me?” He looks up at Jack with pitiful blue eyes and over at Robby. “Why do I have it? Why do I have to take care of it?” 

Jack sighs, threading his hand through his dirty blonde curls. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I wish I could tell you.” 

“Sometimes it’s not about the why. Sometimes it’s about taking it and doing something good with it.” Robby rubs his thumb across Dennis’s cheek, wiping away a few of the tears. “Why’d you pick medicine in the first place?” 

“I-” he swallows. “No one ever gave me answers. I just wanted to learn about myself and the disease and see if I could find something." 

“And when you didn’t?” 

“When I didn’t, I still just….I understood it. I don’t know if it was the farming or the theology but I could always find the answers. Naming muscles and organs, then breaking it down to a cellular level. It felt like I was finally finding something I was good at. When it came time for after graduation plans, med school was the only thing that made sense. I didn’t care if I didn’t have an answer for myself because there were answers for other things.” 

He thinks about anatomy labs and dissections and all the courses that came so naturally to him. The way he felt so at ease in school. Finding patterns and solving the problems. 

“I needed that. I needed something to make sense for once in my life and medicine did.”

“And still does, right?” 

He nods at Robby’s question. “Yeah. If nothing else, it does.” 

“Then that’s what matters,” Jack says. He sounds so confident and Dennis wishes he could share that. “You might never know why you were diagnosed, but you can know that you’ve done something truly amazing with something that could easily be so tragic.” 

Then why don’t you want me to stay? 

Why are you pushing me to the coast? 

Why are you talking about schools and programs that aren’t here?

Why don’t you want me? 

“But you can’t do that if you don’t start taking care of yourself,” Robby reminds him gently. “And we know you don’t want to, but it’s probably time to consider letting other people know. So that they can know when you say you need a minute, they actually give you a minute.” 

“But-” 

Jack is already shaking his head. “No, Dennis. This isn’t up for negotiation. Even if you start small, with Santos and the others.” 

“I don’t want-” he shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t want them to look at me differently.” 

“They’re going to look at you differently no matter what.” Jack shrugs and fails to hide a smile at Dennis’s wet eyed glare. “It’s true. The longer you hide it, the more upset they’re going to be with you.” 

“I will think about it,” he concedes. “But I’m not promising anything.” 

“Fine by us.” Robby presses a quick kiss to Dennis’s cheek. “You have a place to hide out while you’re waiting for them to stop being mad.” 

And God help him, he’ll need one. He sighs and burrows himself into Robby’s hold for a moment. The quiet that settles over them is calming. Jack keeps thumbing at his legs, a reassuring presence while Robby rubs his back. 

He’s not sure where they go from here. What he’s supposed to do. They usually tear him apart in bed and pull him back together after. To be broken down here, to be forced into this position…this is new territory and it has him on edge. 

“I guess I should go home.”

Jack scoffs in offense. “Really? You’re still avoiding us?” 

“No! No, I just-” he shrugs. “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to do tonight?” 

“As far as tonight-” Robby’s hands slide a little lower, right down to his thighs. “Well, I’m still a little upset with you. I think we both are.” 

Dennis shivers at the new touch. “But I ate. And I had a shot.” 

“Mhm. And that was after you avoided what you needed for days.” Robby kisses his cheek, then lower onto his neck. “And I think we’ve made it pretty clear how we feel about you doing that. Don’t you, Jack?” 

“I would say so.” 

Dennis pouts at the other man’s agreement. “But I’m fine.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” he says firmly. 

“I think,” Jack says slowly, voice heated and gravelly. His hands moving up to Dennis’s waist. “That you need to learn how serious we are when it comes to you taking care of yourself. What can happen when you don’t listen.” 

There’s a flash in Jack’s eyes and he’s brought back to their teasing conversation in the bedroom a few days prior. 

“I don’t think you understand how nice I am to you. One of these days I’m going to show you how mean I can be.” 

Fuck.

Notes:

boss makes a dollar i make a dime that's why i write gay porn on company time

chapter 18 up already :)

Chapter 18

Notes:

sorry for those of you who voted no but um...yeah the daddy kink won but i SWEAR i'm not going to abuse it

Your hands shaped me and made me. Will you now turn and destroy me? - Job 10: 8

 

Dennis feels a little more trapped now than he did ten minutes ago. 

Jack puts his mouth on Dennis’s, and he loses all train of thought. He’s never going to get used to being kissed by them. All of those years of wondering if he was doing it wrong, trying to figure out how to make partners happy, finding patterns and solving problems are washed away by the way that they touch him and hold him. They know all of his spots, things he didn’t even know he loved. 

Robby’s an active participant as always. His hands roam Dennis freely. His nails scrape down the soft skin of his back, and another hand wanders under his shirt to tweak at one of his nipples. 

He knows that if he said stop, they would. If he hesitated or moved in a way that they knew meant he wasn’t okay, they’d put an end to all of it immediately. And maybe he’s a little nervous but he’s also safe. So he chooses to ignore the panic and lean into the heavy petting. 

The beard burn on his neck is going to be atrocious. He dazedly wonders if he should invest in turtlenecks for the foreseeable future when Jack’s hand slides down under his scrubs. 

He was already half hard but Jack traces his length and that’s all it takes for the rest of him to fill out. Robby grazes his neck with his teeth and he hisses at the contact. “Would it kill you both to not mark me up for once?” 

“Yes,” Robby says simply. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.” 

“Like we can’t see the way you get so flustered when we find a spot at work.” Jack laughs meanly at Dennis’s shocked face. “You’re not that discreet, sweetheart.” 

“Sadistic fucks,” he mutters but it’s turned into a moan when Jack starts stroking him. Robby keeps moving along his neckline, peppering his pale skin with kisses and bites that he knows are going to end up staying on him for days. 

They’re always so fucking overwhelming but he relishes in it for now. After days of denying himself their touch, their looks, their attention, he wants to soak it all up. He needs it after the self righteous tantrum he threw. He needs a little reminder that someone does give a shit about him. 

Jack starts moving a little faster and Dennis hides his eagerness with a kiss to Robby. He nibbles on the man’s bottom lip and is rewarded with a groan and squeeze to the back of his neck. 

He can feel the pleasure buzzing under his skin. He knows he’s close, and his desperation must be evident because Robby’s kisses get hungrier and Jack’s movements get more calculated. Fast, tight motions make euphoric waves ripple across his body. 

Dennis’s hips jerk and Jack pulls off immediately. He squeezes the base of Dennis’s cock.  The orgasm he had been seconds away from fades and he pulls away from Robby to stare at Jack in confusion. 

He blinks a few times, chest heaving, trying to understand. There’s an ache in his chest and in his stomach and he can’t figure out what just happened to leave him feeling so empty. 

“But-” 

“Good boys who take care of themselves get to cum.” 

“I don’t think you understand how nice I am to you. One of these days I’m going to show you how mean I can be.” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh, he’s so fucked. 

Jack starts stroking him again, lazy and unfocused, looking over his shoulder at Robby. “How many do you think he can handle?” 

Robby hums, trailing a hand down Dennis’s thigh and making him shiver. “Three? Four times? You know he’s a crier when he gets desperate.” 

He turns towards the man with a squawk of indignation. “I am fucking not-” 

Robby slaps the still covered skin and Dennis has to hold back a moan. 

“Wasn’t talking to you, honey.” 

“Guess we’ll have to see how long it takes him to apologize.” Jack nods at his husband. “Want a turn?” 

“Always.” Robby pats the outside of his thighs eagerly. “Let’s go.” 

He’s being pulled to his feet by Jack and then Robby’s picking him up like he weighs nothing. He squirms a little, going red at how easily they can move him but Robby just rolls his eyes and kisses him quickly. 

The bedroom is a welcoming sight. He knows his place here, knows what’s expected and wanted of him. 

Robby sets him down and starts tugging off his scrubs with renewed vigor. He realizes a little too late that he doesn’t have any clothes to change into and will have to borrow theirs again. 

Annoyingly, Robby and Jack both stay fully clothed as Robby pushes him towards the bed, moving him onto his stomach. 

He doesn’t like the fact that they can see him but he can’t see them. He doesn’t like that they’re clearly on the same wavelength and he’s completely at their mercy. 

His tension must be evident because Jack slides in front of him with a reassuring smile and taps his arms. “Hands and knees, sweetheart. You know how we want you.” 

The drawer gets pulled open and he’s grateful that while Jack distracts him with kisses and orders, someone is being smart about this. Or merciful and grabbing the lube.  

Jack distraction works a little too well. Robby’s finger slides into him so smoothly and Dennis hisses a bit at the tightness. 

“You’re okay,” Robby reassures him calmly. Like he’s coaching Dennis through a procedure at work and not gearing him up for unknown rounds of torture. He adds a second finger and Dennis shifts his weight. “Take a breath, baby.” 

It’s just a ploy. The second he tries to exhale Robby curls his fingers just at the right angle to get a high pitch keen out of him. Dennis goes red at the sound and the other two just laugh. 

“That good already? You’re not gonna make it when I get my cock in you, honey.” 

It might be true but he doesn’t have to fucking say it. He bites his lip when Robby repeats the motion, refusing to give into their antics. 

Jack lifts his face to force him to meet his gleeful expression. “Come on, sweetheart. You know we love your pretty little sounds.” He thumbs at his bottom lip just as Robby adds a third and the whine that slips out makes Jack sigh happily. “So fucking sweet.” 

His dick twitches each time Robby fucks his fingers into him. There’s a brief moment where the pleasure vanishes and he shifts again, trying to find the contact when he feels the tip of Robby’s cock at his entrance.

“Big stretch, honey.” 

Dennis just arches his back and gives himself over. Robby mutters something he can’t quite make out but it doesn’t matter because he’s pushing into him and it takes all the breath out of Dennis’s lungs. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he takes him. Robby is always so fucking heavy. 

Robby pulls out halfway and slams back into him. 

He hides his face in Jack’s shoulder with a moan. Robby’s sliding in and out of him easily, steadily, and it adds to the building pressure in his stomach. It’s hot and heavy and thick and he knows he’s going to be walking weirdly tomorrow. 

“Robby, please-” he squirms, trying to pull away, but Jack holds him steady. 

“You can take it, sweetheart.”

He’s pretty sure he can’t. Robby fucks him like a man possessed, like he can find whatever is wrong with Dennis and fuck it out of him. And God, Dennis needs him to find it. 

He can feel the precum slipping out of him and when Jack swipes his thumb over the slit of his cock, he winces. He shifts, trying to pull away from the touch. Jack only picks up his speed, grinning at how Dennis can’t keep still over it. 

Robby starts fucking him faster, his hips slamming into Dennis’s with each thrust. It makes his entire body shake with each contact and if it weren’t for Jack, he knows he'd be face first in the bed. 

“Always so fucking tight,” Robby grunts, his hands squeezing at Dennis’s hips. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Dennis can barely get a whine out in response. His cock keeps barely brushing the mattress below him, small bits of pressure adding to his ache, and he feels dizzy from being so close again. 

Robby leans over and presses a kiss to his shoulder, keeping his frantic pace. Dennis shivers at the cold of his Star of David chain sliding against his skin. There’s a slight pressure against his stomach and he shakes from it. 

“So deep in you, aren’t I? Gonna feel me for days.” 

Dennis swears one day he’s going to put earplugs in so he can’t hear them when they fuck him. 

“Fuck, Robby, feels so good-” 

That just spurs the man on. “Yeah? Poor thing. How’s he looking, Jack, baby?” 

Jack forces his chin up and Dennis can’t tear his eyes away from the smug smirk. “Like a desperate little slut. Pretty sure you’ve got him drooling. You wana cum, baby boy?” 

Dennis nods pathetically. 

“You want to apologize?” 

No response for that. Robby smacks the fleshy part of his ass and it gets him talking. 

“Please, oh God, please!” 

“Not quite, sweetheart.” 

Robby hits the right spot and Dennis’s whole body lurches forward trying to accommodate him. “Fuck, daddy, please-” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck his stupid fucking life. 

Robby swears behind him. Jack’s entire face lights up like Dennis just gave him the world on a silver platter. “Yeah, baby? That far gone already?” 

His entire face is bright red he’s sure. He bites his lip but Jack pulls it out with his thumb. 

“No, come on. Who’s fucking you so good, sweetheart?” 

The lack of anemia pills catches up to him when his vision goes spotty with how quickly he’s shaking his head. Robby fucks into him a little harder, and it slips out anyway. “Daddy, please-!” 

Robby spills into him with a groan and Dennis can’t fight his way out of Jack’s hold to get his own pleasure. Robby holds his hips still so all he can do is sit and take the influx of cum making him shiver and shake. 

He’s on edge. There’s a vibration under his skin, an itch he can’t get too. He feels so heavy and exhausted that he doesn’t know what to do. 

But they do. They always do. 

Robby waits for Jack to switch out with him before sliding in front of Dennis. He kisses the dirty blonde deeply, sweetly, like a reward. He whimpers when Robby pulls away from him. “Please?” 

“You know what we want to hear. You’re okay, baby boy.” 

He’s not. He’s dizzy and tired and Jack’s pushing into him with no warning and no prep. 

He’s reminded of the differences in the two of them in between thrusts. Robby takes up every space he can squeeze into Dennis. Jack buries himself in so deeply that Dennis can feel him everywhere. 

“Fuck, Jack, please-” 

“Oh, what? Only Michael gets the special names?” 

Jack can always find just the right spot to make him see stars. He thrusts so deeply into Dennis that the poor man can’t breathe properly. Each exhale is being punched out of him as he goes, brushing up against all the right parts. 

Robby’s trying to fuck it out of him and Jack is trying to fuck it into him. He can feel it in every thrust, in every touch. Whatever bad Robby took out, Jack is pouring himself back into it. 

“Please, Jack, I want to cum!” 

“Yeah? What do we want to hear? What are you supposed to do to get that?” 

He falls from his hands to his elbows with a particularly harsh thrust. “God, sir, please-” 

“Aw, there it is.” Another thrust that slams Jack’s cock into his prostate. “You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you? You become such a good little boy when you get your daddy or your sir’s cock in you.” 

One day, Dennis is going to lock himself into a psych ward and not come out until someone fixes him. 

Dennis is sweating. He can feel it pooling on his forehead and onto the sheet below him. If he wasn’t so confident that they’d stop if he was actually low, that they’d notice before him, he thinks he’d have low blood glucose if he checked. 

His skin feels tighter. Every time Robby touches him or Jack fills him, it just makes him ache. His thighs are aching from holding his position and his arms are trembling. 

“Too much,” he whines. “It’s too much!” 

Jack just slaps his ass. “You’re fine. Be good.”

The casual dismissal only adds to his misery. He refuses to give in to their nonsense and cry, but he does hand his head and squeeze his eyes shut, focusing on not losing it and streaking his release across the sheets. 

Robby presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “I know, baby, I know. It’s so hard, isn’t it?’ 

Dennis nods pitifully as Jack fucks into him steadily. 

“You want to cum?” 

“Please!” 

“Apologize.” Jack’s voice is irritatingly steady. 

Dennis bites his lip so hard he tastes blood and shakes his head. 

“No?” Robby shrugs and trails his thumb across Dennis’s cheek. “Okay, honey. That’s fine.” 

Jack groans behind him. “It’d be so easy to get what you want, baby boy.” 

Easy for them. Easy and great for their ego. He just hangs his head low, fingers threading through the sheets for any sort of comfort or control. 

He’s close. He knows he’s close, and Jack knows from the way he tenses because he starts fucking into him faster, chasing his release over Dennis’s pleasure. Every push is aimed to hit that spot against his prostate and he falls against his elbows when there’s a particularly hard thrust.

Jack’s dick twitches deep in him and he can feel it pulsate as Jack finishes inside of him. Robby’s hand reaches just under his frame and cuts of his chance at doing the same.  

“Fuck, come on!” he whines, high pitched and needy, as Jack just moans, fucking him slowly through his release. “It’s not fair, you’re not being fair!” 

Ignoring his pleas, Robby and Jack move him over and up until he’s in Robby’s lap, trapped again with Jack in front of him. 

Jack starts stroking him again and Dennis tries to kick his leg free. Jack just pins it down easily. The touch feels like a burn against his skin. He’s so overstimulated but so determined not to cry. Not to give in like that. 

“You know what’s not fair? Us working so hard to make sure you’re okay and you deciding that you just don’t want to take care of yourself. That it’s easier to ignore what you need and suffer in silence.” 

He huffs but it just turns into a strangled moan when Jack tightens his grip. 

“It’s not fair that you decide when you want to be good and when you don’t.” 

Dennis kicks his foot as his only way of rebellion. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Robby whispers to him. “So proud of you.” 

“If ‘m doing so good let me cum,” he whines. 

“You know what we want to hear.” Jack teasingly drags his nails down Dennis’s torso and it makes him shiver. “You know how to get out of this, sweetheart.” 

Dennis purses his lips and closes his eyes. It just makes Jack start moving faster. 

He thinks desperately that if he doesn’t give them a reaction then maybe they won’t notice he’s getting closer. He tries to keep his breathing normal, tries to hold back any sounds of pure pleasure. 

Everything feels tenfold. The way Robby’s bread brushes across his skin, the Star of David occasionally poking against his warm skin, the little twists Jack does as he plays with him. There’s a slight panic in his chest, bubbling and aching. 

He can feel it building again, irritating and hot and overwhelming. A few more strokes and he knows he’ll be able to. 

But at some point, he’s going to learn that he can’t get away with anything when it comes to these two men he’s pinned between. 

When Jack reaches down and cuts off his orgasm for the fourth time, Dennis finally breaks down and sobs. 

“No! No, no, no, please, please, please, I’m sorry. No more, sir, please, no more!” 

“No more?” Jack forces his chin up to meet Dennis’s sobbing face. “Are we done with this nonsense of skipping meals because it’s easier? Of ignoring what you need when your body tells you otherwise?” 

Dennis is pretty sure he would promise to find a way to get pregnant if they asked him right now. 

“Yes, yes, sir, I promise, please, just let me cum, please!” 

“I don’t know, does he sound sorry to you?” 

“Not sorry.” Robby rubs at his stomach pitifully. “Definitely a little desperate though.” 

Dennis drops his head against Jack’s shoulder and sobs. “‘m sorry, I am, daddy, sir, please-”

“What are you sorry for?” 

The fucking asshole. He shakes his head. 

“Uh-uh. Use your words, little boy.” 

“I can’t, Jack, sir, please-” 

“Use your words, Denny, or we can do this all over again.” 

He sobs at the threat. 

“You can do it, angel,” Robby whispers in his ear. “You know what he wants to hear.” 

Jack strokes him again and Dennis twitches from the contact.

“I’m sorry for not taking care of myself, I swear it won’t happen again!” 

“What do you do when you need something?” 

“Come find one of you, take care of it!” 

“Are we skipping meals?” 

“No sir!” 

“Skipping shots? Not checking your glucose when you need to?” 

“No, no sir, I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” 

“There we go.” He’s rewarded with renewed strokes. “There’s our good boy.” 

Dennis sobs. He’s going to fall apart within seconds. Everything aches and he can feel every single spot that Jack is touching so intensely. 

“You do that shit again, and you won’t come for a week, you understand?” 

He whimpers at that and nods desperately. Jack smacks one of his thighs in quick reprimand. He sobs at the sting as sends spikes of pleasure across his body. “Words, Denny.” 

“Yes, I understand! I’m sorry, please-” he throws his head back against Robby’s chest with desperate pleas leaving his lips. 

“Good boy,” Robby soothes in his ear. He kisses the temple of Dennis’s head amidst his cries and nods at Jack. “Good boy. Come on, Jackie, baby, don’t you think he’s earned it?” 

“Oh, I guess so.” 

It takes a few measly seconds for him to feel his cock sputter as his vision goes white. His whole body tenses as he finally gets his release. He might scream, but he’s not entirely sure. Every ache and twitch and wave vanishes and he just lies on the bed and tries to breathe though it all. 

He just feels every nerve in his body flush with pure pleasure before he collapses against Robby, limp and weeping. 

“Good boy. You’re okay, angel. You were so good, so good for us.” 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Deep breaths, there we go.” 

His body is floating. He feels so much lighter than he did minutes ago, hours ago. Nothing matters beyond the soft praises and the way he can barely remember his own name. 

He winces and whimpers when they try to move him. Everything aches and he doesn’t know if he wants to be touched or coddled. 

They must sandwich him between the two of them on his back because he can feel Robby’s arm around his waist and Jack scratching at his head. He thinks he could fall asleep just like this. 

The weight of the bed shifts and his eyes flutter open immediately. Jack has one leg off the bed, reaching for his crutch to leave. Dennis is reaching for him before he can even form a thought. 

“No.” He clings tightly to Jack’s arm. 

“I’m just going to grab something to clean you up with, Denny.” 

He gives him an unimpressed pout. “No.” 

“Just give him a second, Jack,” Robby whispers, stroking Dennis’s hair. “It’s okay, angel.” 

Jack rolls his eyes but settles back down with a fond smile. “Alright, Denny baby. We’re right here.” 

Dennis keeps his eyes on him for as long as he can before he closes his eyes again. He can hear them speaking in low voices but he doesn’t care to listen. 

“No,” he still whines when Jack stands. He leans down and kisses Dennis’s forehead sweetly. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, angel. Stay right here.” 

Like he could even attempt to go anywhere. He lets Robby cradle him and continue to mess with this hair. He thinks idly that he’ll never cut it if they keep touching it like this. 

Jack is methodical and thorough as he wipes away the mixture of sweat and dried cum from his thighs. Ever the tactile doctor, he keeps going until he’s satisfied as he can be without dragging Dennis to the shower. 

He lays back down and Robby starts to pass Dennis back over to his husband. 

“We need to check his glucose. I’ll go grab the stuff.” 

“No,” Dennis says, eyes still closed. “‘M fine.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Robby laughs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. This one’s sweeter. “You’re probably golden. Just stay here with Jack.” 

He rolls to his side and buries himself in the other man’s hold in response. Jack drags his nails up and down Dennis’s back in a soothing manner. 

There’s some noises from the kitchen as Robby moves around. He doesn’t really want to do the whole glucose check in but he knows without a doubt this is not the time to push against it. 

Something in him feels unsettled. Like a small flame coursing through his veins and keeping him uneasy. The everpresent guilt of doing anything, right or wrong. 

“I am sorry.” 

It’s a broken, hollow apology. He knows things weren’t supposed to go this far, knows they’ve signed up for more than they probably planned for. He never meant for things to get this serious, this twisted, this fucked. 

“Dennis, I know, baby. I’m not mad at you.” 

“Promise?” he mumbles into his chest. There’s something so needy about the question that he doesn’t even recognize. Jack leans down and presses a kiss against his forehead. It turns the flames into something lighter, fuzzier, hopeful. 

“Yeah, angel, I promise.” 

They lay in silence as they wait for Robby to return. Dennis tries to remember what it feels like to be a functioning body and member of society. Jack idly scratches at his back, his scalp, occasionally whispering out a gentle bit of praise to him. 

He comes back to the bedroom with a handful of things but all Dennis can zero in on is the glass full of apple juice that he knows is for him. 

“I don’t want that.” 

Jack does something between a laugh and a groan. “Did the last hour mean nothing to you? You really forgot that quickly?” 

“I didn’t forget. I just don’t want it.” 

Robby doesn’t seem deterred, setting the waters and pain meds, (fucking doctors always thinking ahead) to the side. He nods at Jack who nudges Dennis into a sitting position. 

“C’mon.” 

Dennis pouts but Robby holds the glass in front of him persistently. “Nope. You need it. You’re too low. Drink it and then you’re showering.” 

He groans but wraps his lips around the straw obediently. 

They make him move once his glucose is up to an acceptable level. Pull him into the bathroom and ignore his complaints and whines as he gets settled into the bathtub. 

His heart does something weird as they take care of him. Sure, Robby’s joined him in the shower and Jack’s been in the shower chair while they wipe away the sweat and stains. But this is different. He knows it’s different. In the way that they’re so careful with how they touch him and move him. 

Which is fine. His legs don’t seem to want to work anymore as it is. 

But alarm bells are ringing in his head, which he would have appreciated sooner. He hears sermons about temptations and the wages of sin everytime he gets a kiss or a brush of a hand. 

They cleanse him of themselves and it’s the most pure baptism he’s ever been a part of. 

He’s not even sure who dresses him, let alone whose clothes he’s wearing, just that they smell like the other two. He gets put back into bed first, and they switch off who showers so that one of them is always laying beside him. He’s not sure he’s fully back in his body until the lights are off and he’s on his side, Jack spooning him from behind, and Robby spooning him from the front. 

The last few days come back to him in rapid succession. They never said that he was forgiven. They never said he was okay. They never said a lot of things and yet he’s sleeping in their bed like it’s his own, like there’s nowhere else he’s supposed to be. 

Something in his chest hurts and he needs it out before it consumes him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the quiet of the room. 

Jack laughs a little and Robby just sighs. 

“Dennis.” Robby curls a knuckle under his chin and forces him to look up at him. “All is forgiven, okay? We aren’t upset.” 

There must be doubt evident in his face because Robby leans down and kisses him deeply. His thumb strokes at Dennis’s cheek when they break apart. “We aren’t upset. I promise.”

Jack rubs at his back. “I always knew there was a little bit of a brat inside of you. You like to be good and we get that. But there’s nothing wrong with making us work for your goodness too.” 

“Just not at the expense of your health,” Robby clarifies. 

Dennis nods. “I know.” 

“I fucking hope so. Next time I won’t be so nice.” 

Dennis kicks back his foot to hit Jack’s shin. “That was nice?!” 

“In comparison? I would say so, wouldn’t you, Michael?” 

There are some very not safe for work images going through Dennis’s head. “Wait, hold on-” 

“Nope. Not tonight.” Robby pinches his husband’s arm who slaps at his hand. “Unbelievable. You could try to be a little more subtle.” 

“And lie? Not my style, babe.” 

Dennis tries to sit up. “No, wait I want to know!”  

“We could always talk about the fun things you revealed tonight.” He can hear the smirk in Jack’s tone. “What was it you called Robby and I? I don’t think I heard it clearly enough.” 

He starts to feel around for the man behind him to land a hit. “You’re such a fucking-”

“We have work in the morning,” Robby reminds him firmly. Jack pulls him back down with a mumbled apology and a kiss on his shoulder. “And you need the sleep. Don’t act like you’ve been getting any for the last few days.”

“Controlling freak,” he mutters into Robby’s chest. But his eyes are heavy, and he can feel the weariness in his bones. Days without any real rest have renderned him useless. 

Besides, the weight of their hold feels comforting. He’s warm. He’s safe. He’s full. 

For the first time in years, Dennis sleeps soundly through the night.

Notes:

oh look at me I'm dennis whitaker and I get dick whenever I want from my two hot bosses.

head in my hands i'm such a whore.

Everyone say thank you entertainment weekly for giving Bailey promo pics to get excited and write 10K words and a 4K word one shot.

blueangelbby on tumblr if you wanna follow along with my thoughts there. If not....see you Sunday? Monday? One of those two.

Chapter 19

Notes:

My girlfriend sitting across from me on the couch: Babe you can't finish it by Christmas if you don't start editing and posting instead of doomscrolling

Me, a moron: What the fuck are you going to do about it?

Anyway she said I can't have my phone back until I post this and edit half of 20 so congrats guys you get this a day early

You bring new witnesses against me and increase your anger toward me; your forces come against me wave upon wave. - Job 10:17

The one shift he gets to work prior to his forced time off is spent with him trying not to wince every time he moves too quickly. He’s sore all over. If Robby had the heart to look unamused he would but instead he looks gleeful every single time he sees the discomfort in Dennis’s face. Like he knows the message has been driven home. 

Being barred from work until after the holidays just means he has time to prepare the world’s biggest apology for the girls. Trinity takes his lie of using it for applications and interviews without batting an eye. Most likely because she’s still irritated with him. 

It also means he’s practically living in the townhome.   

Robby and Jack refuse to discuss any work things with him, insisting a break is a break. He’s pretty sure it’s because they don’t want to distract him from what they seem to think is a minor recovery period for him. 

Which, yeah, it is. Because on his first day off, when Jack sets a plate of food down in the late afternoon, he doesn’t really know what to do. 

“But I’m not even hungry.” 

“You already took the shot and we added in extra to curve the spike.” 

“Yeah. But I’m not hungry.” 

“You want something else?” 

“No.”

“You want me to call Robby?” 

“I’m not five.” 

But he might as well be because the second Jack is standing over him, phone in hand, Robby on speaker fussing, going sunshine, we talked about this, don’t make me come home early just to be upset, he’s eating. And ignoring the smug look on Jack’s face. 

Old habits kick in again while he’s busy responding to interview requests from the hospitals that have emailed him back. He decides it’s more important to finish an email over taking the correction shot he needs, and Robby’s the one pulling him off of the floor, swatting his ass, and prepping the shot for him. 

There’s one night where Robby doesn’t even leave any possibility to skip anything. He just yanks Dennis into his lap and feeds him by hand like it’s completely normal. And Jack doesn’t even bat an eye at it even though Dennis is squirming in Robby’s hold. 

It’s like a sexy version of house arrest. He does the bare minimum like eat a meal, take his shots, has a nap, and one of them lets him bounce on their cocks until he’s dripping with sweat. 

“I know that we’re old, honey, but you’re the one that tends to get worn out quickly,” Robby teases one afternoon when he’s got Dennis in his lap, facing Jack who’s just enjoying the sight, one hand down his pants. Dennis is trying to find a rhythm that suits him but everytime he gets close, Roby does something to fuck it up. He’s not usually that mean, but apparently he’s a man possessed now.

“Because it’s two against one all the damn time,” he huffs. 

“Aw, feeling left out? You say the word and I bet both of us can fit inside your pretty little hole.” 

He comes seconds after that statement and now Jack keeps dropping hints about it. 

It’s also the first break he remembers having in years that wasn’t spent trying to make an extra income. He’s not walking dogs or shelter hopping. There’s no homework or applications or time spent working. He’s not rationing food or insulin. He’s just….existing. Sleeping whenever he wants. Watching TV as he pleases. Helping Jack with dinner and Robby with random things around the house. 

He feels a little like a housewife and secretly relishes in it. 

On Monday, during the week of Thanksgiving, he sends a text in the slightly dead group chat asking if the girls want to do a game night on Tuesday. They respond within seconds, all rounds of yes. It should calm him down, but instead he’s just stressed.

He ends up admitting it to Robby when he and Jack trade off that night. He’s insisted that they can let him be alone in the townhome for more than ten minutes but that has yet to occur. Apparently they don’t believe him or are simply too obsessed with having him around that whoever is at home stays until the other gets back from work. 

Robby’s sitting on the couch, eyes half closed when Dennis comes and curls up on his lap. Robby’s hands slide around his waist easily and he dips his chin when he sees Dennis’s expression. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I don’t think I can tell them.”

Robby kisses him instead of responding right away. “Yes you can. We talked about this. You need to start somewhere. How else are you going to work up to telling Dana?” 

He doesn’t want to tell Dana anything. Ever. The second she finds out about any of this part of his life, he’s skipping town. 

“But do I have to?” 

The older man raises a brow. “Do you want a repeat of the other night to explain why you do?” 

He bristles at the comment. “They’re going to have so many questions.” 

“Probably.” 

“They’re going to be pissed.” 

Robby hums, kissing him again. “Probably.” 

He frowns at the man below him. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

“You’re supposed to say-” he drops his voice in a mocking tone. “‘No, Dennis, they’re going to be understanding and kind. They’re not going to trigger your usual flight or fight responses when being confronted with personal issues and topics.’” 

Robby nods. “Seems like you’ve got it covered. You want me to repeat it word for word?” 

Dennis leans down and bites Robby’s shoulder in retaliation. Robby grumbles and peels him off by latching his fingers through his curls and tugging him back. But his eyes are fond when he does it. 

“Brat. Yeah, they’ll be upset but they will probably get over it too.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll deal with it. Like how we deal with everything else. But I’m telling you, it’s going to be fine. You know how many patients I’ve dealt with who hide things from family members and friends? Everyone always gets over it because they care about each other.”

“But we’re not talking about patients.” 

“Technically we are. I’m still your primary care at work.” 

“I should get that fixed to an actual endocrine specialist.” 

“Probably.” 

Dennis scowls. “You and your probablys. You know what? After they tell me they hate me, I’ll probably toss my phone into a river so I can’t get any glucose readings.” 

“Which one? We have three, you know.” 

Dennis shuts him up with a kiss and slides off of his lap to undo his pants. 

But even Robby’s confidence and sex can’t quell his fears. He tosses and turns all night, even when Robby tries to hold him and rubs his back. Every hour or so he’ll wake up with his heart beating in his chest and listening for Robby’s pulse to convince him he’s not alone. Not yet. 

His slight worry has turned into full blown panic by the morning. Robby had barely managed to get any food inside of him, let alone his insulin. Dennis is pacing in circles in the living room, tugging at his hair every few seconds while Robby watches silently from the doorway, leaning against the wall. 

When Jack gets home, Robby slides by him on his way out the door with a mumbled, “Have fun,” before kissing his husband on the cheek and practically sprinting to his truck. 

Jack looks unamused and just sits down on his usual chair, watching the med student move around. “Okay. This is getting a little out of hand. You’re going to tell them. If not today or tomorrow, then at some point.”

“I don’t want to.” 

“Denny, baby, it’s going to be fine.” 

“What if it’s not?” He keeps making his circles. “What if they decide they hate me?” 

“Then you make new friends.”

“What if they have questions?’ 

“Then you answer them.”

“What if Trin gets so mad she kicks me out?” 

“Then you move in here.” 

He snorts, stopping his motions to glare at the man, putting his hands on his hips. “Funny.” 

“How was that funny?” 

“I’m not moving in here.” 

“I mean if you’d prefer a different apartment, fine, but there’s really no sense-” 

“Jack, I’m probably getting placed on the east coast. I’m not signing a lease this late in the year.” 

“So you can move in here.” Jack shrugs at Dennis’s bewilderment. “Nothing else makes sense. You can finish out your rotations and get through graduation. I don’t see an issue.” 

Dennis can think of a thousand. And none of them are helping him calm down. 

“Just-” he huffs and plops down onto the couch. “What if I just didn’t go over there?” 

“I’m not going to force you into telling them. But I think that a group of doctors will be pleasantly understanding.” 

He glares halfheartedly at the man who just grins back at him. “Be serious.” 

“I am. They’re going to be understanding about having a life changing diagnosis. Maybe a little pissed, but that’s going to be everyone unfortunately.” 

“Why? I had my reasons.” 

Jack rolls his eyes. “Mhm. Your reasons were shitty, sweetheart. I understand them, and I get why you were scared, but they were still shitty.” 

“I know.”

He does. 

“What time are they coming over?” 

“Um.” Dennis rubs his eyes. “After their shift. Sometime around eight.” 

“Perfect. I can drop you off.” 

“I can head out now, you know. You don’t have to drive me.” 

“No, but I want to.” He stands and ruffles Dennis’s curls affectionately. “And I have to go run errands anyway. Robby and I are off until Thursday.” 

There are no errands and they both know it. 

He leaves Jack alone in the bedroom for the majority of the morning. Boston, John Hopkins, Duke, and Stanford are all waiting for his replies in his inbox and he takes the time to write out answers. 

The fact that all of these name-dropping hospitals want to both interview him and fly him out to visit their sites doesn’t make any sense. He knows that his grades are good, but the rec letters he has stowed away from each rotation must be decent too. After Christmas, he’ll be gone for two to three days a week until February. 

That does something weird to his stomach. He knows his time with Robby and Jack is already running out. There’s no telling how their schedules will match up after he’s done in emergency med. Let alone if he’s constantly flying in and out of Pittsburgh and jumping time zones. 

Jack drops him off at the front of the apartment building with a kiss and a request to call him if he needs anything. 

There’s a mess in every room of the apartment and he spends the first hour getting things back to normal. He feels a little guilt since he’s essentially abandoned his few responsibilities and requests from Trinity. And she can’t for the life of her figure out how to clean the different surfaces with different supplies. 

But it gives him something to do and focus on without spiraling. There’s a weeks worth of scrubs that need to be washed and the fridge needs to be cleaned out and it’s perfect. 

It only gives Dennis an hour to start prepping on the food for everyone. In his attempt to dull their senses, he was making everyone’s favorite of his, a meal that Sarah had taught him. He had also ensured everyone’s favorite alcohol was on hand and made the desserts he knew everyone preferred. 

Clearly he wasn’t above bribery. 

He can hear the door swing in the lock and waits for the few measly seconds it takes for Trinity to open the door and remove half of her belongings in the entryway. Her face is set in stone when she comes around the corner, but his presence makes her pause. 

Her gaze flickers from the crowded stovetop with some of her favorite dishes to her sheepish looking roommate. 

“Is this your way of saying your sorry?” 

“Yeah.” 

She looks surprised at his candor. “Oh.” 

“Look, I know I was a dick. I’m sorry. And I swear I have an actual explanation and rationale. But can you just-” he scratches his neck awkwardly. “Can you just trust me for now?” 

Trinity stares at the offering and back at his distressed figure. “Only because you’re being weird. And because I’m sick of eating ramen and fast food.”

“I’ve literally been leaving leftovers in the fridge.” 

“You think I’ve opened that thing once while you’ve been gone?” 

He rolls his eyes but moves back to the stove. “I would hope that you’d be smart enough, yeah.” 

“I do appreciate the confidence but no.” She disappears down the hall for a few minutes. When she returns, she’s already changed into her after work attire. “The others should be here soon. You want any help?” 

“Fuck no. Just sit down and tell me how work was.” 

She rolls her eyes but does as she’s told, launching into a breakdown of the patients she saw and heard about.

It’s embarrassing how jealous he is. Robby had refused to budge on his quasi time-out from work. The only thing he had offered was maybe letting Dennis come to work on Thanksgiving day because of how crazy things tended to get. Jack had already offered to work a double instead and Dennis had launched into a ten minute rant about how unfair they were being that only ended when they got him undressed in bed and pinned in between them. 

“I will tie you to this damn bed if you start up with that nonsense,” Robby threatened in between thrusts. “Just enjoy the break, sunshine.” 

“Anyway, turns out the patient was combing his antibiottics with- are you even listening to me?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

Trinity eyes him from her spot on the table. “O-kay. Liar. Is it your little girlfriend? Who you basically live with now?” 

“They’re not-” he flipped her off over his shoulder. “Shut up. I had the week off, I get to use it how I want.” 

“Wish I had that chance. My parents have sent me texts all week asking if I’m bringing anyone home for the holiday.” 

“Are you? What about that girl from last week?” 

“Not happening. She’s too clingy.” 

“What about that certain night shift doctor you keep texting?” 

Trinity narrows her eyes at him. “You little fucking-” 

There’s a knock at the door that saves him. He blows a kiss at a very pissed off looking Trinity and heads down the hall. 

All three have arrived together which just makes him even more nervous. He stands in the doorway for a second looking at the group. “How was the joint Uber?” 

Samira shrugs. “Weird. The guy kept asking if we wanted a fourth.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” Mel says drily. “But he did run several red lights.” 

He makes a face and slides out of the way to let them in. 

It’s the most awkward they’ve all been since their first hangout together. No one says a word as they file in. Samira looks like she’s ready to flee the second she has a chance. 

“Well this is great,” Trinity says drily.

“Okay, I’ll start. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” 

It clearly catches all of them off guard. 

“Listen, there’s been some things going on and I took it out on you all. I swear I have a reasonable explanation. And I’m sorry and I would say it won’t happen again, but I don’t want to lie.” 

“As far as apologies go, this one is shitty,” Trinity mumbles. 

“I am sorry. And I swear I’ll make it up to you all.” 

Mel looks genuinely happy. Samira shrugs. “Honestly I’m surprised you even texted. Men don’t usually apologize first.” 

“I know. But my sister would’ve killed me if I hadn't said something first. So I am sorry and I swear I’ll do better and not be a jackass.”

Victoria raises her hand. “I will forgive you on one condition.”

Dennis frowns at her. 

“I want to meet the mysterious partner.” 

Cheers and a small round of applause echoes around the room. 

He shakes his head while fighting back a grin. “I don’t think I’m there yet. We aren’t even official yet.” 

“Huckleberry, you’ve been there every night for nearly a week. What toxic situationship have you roped yourself into?”

Glittering metal bands and chains of silver envelope his mind. “One I don’t think I can get out of alive.” 

“Come on,” Victoria pleads. “Give us a little bit of gossip.” 

“Who’s gossiping about me?” 

“Dana, Cassie, Ellis, Donnie-” Mel continues to rattle off half of the night staff and all of the day. 

Dennis blinks. “Is getting my dick wet really that hot of a topic?” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Okay, you know what? We can eat and then I’ll give you details.” 

“Dibs on the floor!” Victoria yells, grabbing the plate he extends and running into the living room. The eldest resident shakes her head and looks at the others remaining. 

“She is the only one who wants to sit there. Does she know that?” 

Dennis just grins and hands Samira the next plate. 

He’s grateful for his sister when they’re all out of food within twenty minutes. It’s easy to calm them down when they’re all equally tired individuals who don’t want to think about food after a long shift. 

They argue over what game to play that night. The last round of Spoons had ended in blood being drawn, so that’s out. Uno is still banned. No one can be trusted to be the banker for Monopoly after everyone, including Mel, had been caught embezzeling. They settle on golf when Mel promises to be the one to keep score. 

He’s barely able to pull out the three different desserts he made to ensure everyone got their favorite before Victoria is looking up at him expectantly.

“So?”

He pulls out the deck of cards for their game from under the coffee table. He takes a seat next to the third year on the floor and raises a brow. “So?”

“What are they like?” 

“They’re…” he tries to find a normal word. A non-attention grabbing one. He should’ve been thinking instead of arguing against playing strip poker. “Great. They’re great.” 

“Oh, wonderful.” Trinity rolls her eyes and pops her second seltzer of the night. “They’re great. I get the same reviews on my patient care.”

“Okay, okay.” He thinks while shuffling the desk of cards. “They’re a little older. Not sure if they want something serious or something casual. And I’m not either, so there’s that.” 

“Where’d you meet them?” Samira asks. 

“School.” 

Well, kind of. 

“It’s not an instructor is it?” Victoria asks, eyes wide. 

“No.” 

Not technically. 

“Are they…nice?” Mel tries. Dennis nods and smiles at her. 

“Yeah. They’re nice. We had a little fight the other week.” He thinks about that night and the bruises that are still fading and has to clear his throat. “It’s fine now.” 

“Clearly,” Trinity mumbles. It makes Samira grin and Dennis rolls his eyes. 

“Look, it’s fun. I’m having fun, they’re having fun, and that’s what matters. They’ve- they’ve got more to deal with than just me, and I have more to deal with than them.” 

“Are they why you left the bar on Halloween?” 

“And came in so cranky last shift?” 

“And keep disappearing on random evenings?” 

“Yes.” 

“To?” Trinity prompts. 

“All of it? I told you all, it’s casual. They’re doing their own thing, and so am I. We’re all doing our own thing. If they ever work up to meet everyone, I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.” 

Everyone seems to accept that as the end of the conversation except for one overly observant resident. He tries to ignore her stare and focuses on beating Victoria.

They barely get through one round of the game before Samira is snapping her head to look at Dennis. 

“Wait. Wait a minute.” Samira’s eyes narrow and she points at Dennis accusingly. “You aren’t saying ‘they’ because you’re trying to be discreet. You’re saying ‘they' because there’s two of them!” 

Dennis keeps his face as impassive as possible. Begs his skin not to turn red. The others turn to stare, gauging his reaction, mouths open in shock. Trinity starts cackling first. 

“Oh my god!” 

“You little selfish asshole! I don’t even have one!” 

“How are you managing two? You can barely manage yourself!” 

“Okay, first of all, Trinity, that’s just rude. I do an excellent job of managing myself and you half the time.”

Jack and Robby would say otherwise. And probably turn his ass a shade of crimson for lying. 

 “Second of all, I never said anything. Gender, number, anything.” 

“He wouldn’t say number if it was just one!” 

“You don’t know that, Victoria!” 

“Oh, he’s blushing! He’s blushing!” Samira practically cackles. “Damn, Whitaker! I didn’t know you had it in you!” 

“Apparently he enjoys having multiple things going on at once.” 

“Okay-” he points a threatening finger at Trinity who just laughs before sipping her drink. “Thin ice. Razor thin. Especially for such a bad joke and when I saw your most recent text thread with a certain doctor.” 

He points at a gleeful Victoria whose face turns into one like a deer in headlights. “And I’ve seen you jumping between Mateo and Cassie, so you have no room to talk. When you both can calm down, you can pick on me.”

“Do I get threatened?” Mel asks, looking a little left out. 

Dennis pauses, picking up his glass, trying to come up with something. He won’t touch the Langdon thing with a ten foot pole. “I’ve got nothing. Congrats, you and Samira are clean.” 

“We’re boring. That’s what he means.” 

Mel sighs heavily, going back to counting up the points. “Damn.” 

He pats her back. “It’s a good thing. Apparently that means you’re just safe from workplace betting pools.” 

“Relax, Dennis. You’re not special enough for that board.” Samira makes a face. “Yet.”

“Yet is the key word there.” 

Trinity snorts. “Please. People do have better things to do over debating your love life.” 

Samira nods in agreement. “Most of the time, yes. Plus, I’m pretty sure half of the staff are at the age where polycules would just confused the fuck out of them.”

“Yeah. They’re a little out of it. My mom doesn’t even understand what talking to someone means. Dana is barely hanging on with her Gen Z lingo bullshit. I mean, poor Dr. Robby couldn’t even spot another gay guy in the ER. Poor guy thought roommates meant dating.” 

Everyone sort of freezes. All but Victoria who keeps shuffling the deck  of cards. She looks up to find all eyes on her and frowns. 

“What?” Her words wash over and her  eyes widen in panic. “Oh. Oh, I thought- I thought we all kinda knew!” 

“We all agreed not to say anything!” Trinity hisses. 

“I’m sorry!”

“You all-” Dennis doesn’t think he can breathe. “Everyone at work?”

“No, not all! I mean, not all of the people at work-” Victoria looks around the coffee table in desperation. “A little help?!”

“Obviously not Dr. Robby but Dr. Abbot is pretty observant,” Mel points out. 

“Right! And you know, Mateo and Cassie know-” 

“You told them?!” Samira hisses. 

“No! No, they asked, and I wasn’t going to lie, I’m not a liar. Besides, Trinity told Ellis!” 

“Ellis asked me if I knew who he was seeing because he’d gotten a pep in his step. I didn’t say anything else!”

“Okay, fine but we all-” she starts pointing around the table. “Come on! We knew!” 

“Great. That’s so-” Dennis starts fanning himsellf with his cards. “Oh my god.” 

“Oh god, I’m outing you. This is your special moment and I’m making it about me!” 

“Still kinda are, Javadi,” Trinity mumbles. But she’s watching Dennis and his very red, humiliated face. “Dennis, look, we never wanted to bother you about it, I swear. We weren’t even sure if you knew.”

“How long have you all known?’

“Your first shift,” Mel admits first. “I just….I don’t know. Trinity said my gayday was decent.” 

“It is. You’re shockingly observant.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I wasn’t sure. I actually was planning on asking you at some point,” Victoria promises. 

Samira nods. “You only ever talked to guys when we went out. The girls you just brushed off. Plus we all saw you at Halloween and just kind of assumed you knew we saw.” 

Trinity shrugs. “I'm your lesbian roommate who brought back hookups that you never asked about. The average straight guy would have made several stupid remarks by now. Or ask to watch. Or join in. You do nothing but tell me I should be nicer.” 

Dennis puts his head down on the table and groans. Bangs his head against it a few times. 

Mel pats his head affectionately. “It’s okay. You’re just not a very good liar.” 

“I keep telling him that.” 

He puts his middle finger up at his roommate.“And none of you thought to ask me?” 

“Well…..” Samira trails off. “That’s a great question actually.” 

“Might we also remind you that you have just the smallest hint of religious trauma?” Mel pats his back again. “And that we considered that asking you something like that might lead to a spiral we couldn’t stop?” 

A very fair point. He forces himself to raise his head, plopping his head up on his hands,  and looks at all of them. “And none of you care?” 

Trinity points a finger at herself. “Lesbian.” She points to Victoria. “Very confused bisexual.” Samira. “Very tired resident.” Mel. “Very overworked resident and sister. You act like any of us have the time or energy to care.” 

“That’s incredibly wrong. We care,” Samira clarifies. “We just aren’t bothered by it. If that’s what you mean.” 

“If anything it pisses me off that you can pull two men when I don’t have time for one,” Mel says. 

They all look at her at that statement. She shrugs, taking the shuffled deck of cards from Dennis’s hold. “I might be the primary caretaker for my sister but that doesn’t mean I don’t get horny too. Some of us just have to compartmentalize it more than others.” 

“Yeah, back to that actually.” Victoria leans forward on her knees. All thoughts of the card game seem to be abandoned at this point.“Two? Dennis, how in the hell do you balance them?” 

“No, let’s stay on the repressed homosexuality thing.” 

“Is it like a swingers thing? Are you hiding the two of them from each other?” 

“Have we ever discussed my childhood in depth and how it might have led me to these personality traits and flaws?” 

“Sugar baby? Platonic friendship?” 

“Have I ever mentioned my incredibly boring upbringing?”

“Are you a top or a bottom?” 

“Is it just Paris every night?” 

“Okay! Okay! One dramatic reveal is enough for one night, don’t we all think?” He glares at Trinity in particular. “You of all people need to chill with the questions. I have nightmares about the sounds coming from your room.”

“Fine.” Trinity sits back in her chair with a bemused face. “Keep your secrets. At this point you won’t have any by Christmas.” 

At this point, he was going to have to find a new city to live in by Christmas. 

“Does anybody else want to share anything? Samira? Trinity? Is it my turn to talk about how I saw the texts you were getting from Ellis at a very late hour?” 

Trinity glares daggers at him. “Dennis, I will beat your ass.” 

“No, you won’t. Who would make food for you and do your laundry?” He smirks, raising his glass to his lips. “Ellis?” 

He’s really letting Jack rub off too much on him. 

Trinity flips him off in response. 

“We’re set up for the next round,” Mel says over the bickering. “Does anybody need anything from the kitchen before we start?” 

“Before you beat me again, can you at least grab me another seltzer?” Victoria asks, looking over her cards. “But cut me off if I ask for another one.” 

Mel’s moving before Dennis can offer. She hands him the deck of cards with a somber expression. “I trust you not to cheat.” 

“Scouts honor, Mel.”

Trinity rolls her eyes. “Rude.”

“Do they fight over who pays for dinner?” 

He doesn’t realize Samira’s question is directed at him until Trinity nudges him. Well, kicks at him from her spot on the couch. “What? Oh, um, no. They don’t fight at all, actually. Very healthy communicators.” 

They fight him, but that’s besides the point, and something they’re typically right about anyway. Not that they need to know that. And it’s not even fighting, it’s just calling him out on his bullshit when no one else ever has. 

“I still want to meet them at some point,” Trinity informs him. “Make sure they’re normal. Give them the hurt him and I’ll kill you speech.” 

Dennis imagines a fist fight at the hub desk in the middle of a shift.“I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

“It’s your first situationship, Den. You have no idea how badly this could  go.” 

Dennis scoffs. “If you think I am not highly aware as to how any situation I am put into could go badly at any given point in time, you don’t know me at all.” 

“Um, Dennis?” the tone in Mel’s voice makes everyone look towards the edge of the room. She has the seltzer in one hand, zip locked bag that Dennis recognizes immediately in the other. “Why are there multiple boxes of artificial insulin in the fridge with your name on them?” 

Everyone stares at the bag in Mel’s grasp, and then at Dennis. 

Who just leans back, letting himself fall against the floor, cards flying in a spray into the air, and groans.

Notes:

let me so clear - Jack was offering to rent out an apartment for Dennis if he was uncomfy living with them. I know some of y'all feel like they need to just talk it out and they will but please understand the generational miscommunication gap happening here. They're not fucking him into submission or not taking his issues seriously. They care, and trust, I'm going to keep diving into it until they're aware of everything Dennis has been keeping quiet from them. Just work with me here - it's a slowburn in all aspect, including the trust.

Anyway, chapter 20 (what the fuck what do you mean 20) should be up by Tuesday. I'm aiming to wrap this fic up before Jan. 8th (ideally before Christmas), and then maybe start my next one right as season two starts. We have roughly 8-10 chapters to go depending on how I decide to do the epilogue. Which is insane to say.

kisses hugs and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate!