Chapter Text
To say that Dr. Michael Robby Robinovich was tired would be saying nothing at all. Another stretch of long hours on a twelve-hour ER shift was wearing him down. It showed in the less springy step, in the way his shoulders slumped, in the dimmed spark in his dark eyes.
It wasn’t that much had changed in his job. Patients, doctors, saving lives and losing them that was his everyday reality. But now the days were starting to blur together, and more and more often he found himself wondering if any of it actually made sense.
“Hey, Robby.” Dana caught up with him before he could disappear into the locker room. “You remember tomorrow’s the students’ first day?”
Robby nodded.
“Yep. New faces. How exciting.” he said, dry.
He stood in front of his locker for a moment, in the dark. The worst part was that he didn’t feel any relief at the thought of going home. There was no release waiting for him there, no escape from the weight or the unwanted thoughts. Despite the exhaustion, he already expected another sleepless night with the TV murmuring in the background.
That was when his phone rang.
“Robinovich.” he answered into the phone, not even checking who was calling as he started pulling off his hoodie.
“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it with the enthusiasm?” Abbot’s voice came through from the other side. Robby rolled his eyes.
“What do you want?” he asked.
There was music in the background — not the kind that would fit either Robby’s or Abbot’s age, or their taste. Robby thought, bitterly, that ever since Abbot started running from loneliness into his new job with the police, he’d begun hanging around younger people and doing things that didn’t suit him. Whatever happened to aging with dignity?
“I’ve got a surprise for you, old man.”
Robby could hear laughter in the background, the pulse of the music. He felt too tired for all of it. He heard Abbot lean closer to someone, his voice dropping lower.
“Remind me what your name is, baby.”
Robby grimaced. He should have expected that.
“You are not bringing drunk twinks into my apartment,” he warned. “You’re not that desperate, Abbot.”
Abbot laughed, completely unfazed. Not into the phone, he said, “come here,” and Robby knew he was pulling someone closer to his side.
“We are, brother, we are,” Abbot said, not sounding sad at all — probably already touching his new catch, because there was a muffled giggle, someone young, untouched by burnout. And that laugh traced itself along Robby’s spine. The feeling was unfamiliar. Almost pleasant.
“Abbot, I’m serious, I don’t need this right now—”
“I know what you need,” the man cut in. “I’m coming over. I’ve got a surprise.”
The call dropped.
Fantastic
“Great” Robby muttered.
***
Robby didn’t have to listen closely to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He could recognize the timbre of Abbot’s voice even in his sleep. He’d left the door unlocked; he’d stopped caring about locking it a long time ago. What was the worst that could happen?
When the door opened, he didn’t even get up from the armchair. A bottle of beer hung loose in his hand as he waited for Abbot to present his “surprise.”
Robby heard Jack’s voice in the entryway before he saw anything. Lower now, quieter than before.
“Hey. It’s okay,” Jack said. “Just— don’t overthink it. Go on. He doesn’t bite.”
A pause.
“Go,” he added, softer this time.
Robby didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, the bottle still loose in his hand, waiting. And then the boy stepped into the room. For a second, Robby just looked at him — and felt something like surprise settle in his chest. Because he wasn’t what he’d expected.
There was nothing loud about him, nothing provocative, none of that practiced confidence people in these kinds of situations usually carried like armor.
He looked… ordinary. And yet there was something in him. Maybe it was the softness of his features. The slightly curly hair, the smaller build, the way he seemed to take up less space than he was allowed to.
But when their eyes met, Robby understood immediately.
Big. Quiet. Sad eyes.
They hit something deep in him — something instinctive, sharp and immediate. The need to protect. To shield. To put himself between that look and anything that might hurt it.
Robby exhaled slowly.
That fucking Abbot had been right. He knew him too well.
The boy scratched the back of his neck, nervous, then tried to offer Robby a small smile — but Robby could see the tension immediately, in his body, in his gaze.
“Hi, I’m…”
He trailed off, because what was he supposed to say, really.
Robby stood up. Crossed the space between them. Stopped right in front of him, close enough to make the difference in their height obvious.
“ID,” he said rough, looking down at him.
“W-what?” the boy stammered, caught off guard.
“Identification,” Robby repeated, not taking his eyes off him.
A flush spread across the boy’s face as he started patting his pockets, nervous, searching for his wallet.
Leaning against the doorframe, Abbot let out a satisfied smile.
“Look at you. Didn’t even take a minute.”
Which only irritated Robby more.
The boy finally pulled his ID out of a worn, thin wallet.
Robby took it from him, and only then did he look away.
“Dennis Whitaker,” he read quietly. He checked the age — twenty-six. The boy didn’t look it, but the ID seemed real enough. Robby lifted his gaze, looking past Dennis’s head at Jack.
Abbot was already smiling, stepping closer. He came up behind the boy and said,
“You think I didn’t check? Who do you take me for?”
Robby handed the ID back — but then caught Dennis lightly by the chin, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“How much did you drink?”
Dennis’s lips parted, startled, but Robby felt it, the subtle shift. The way he leaned into the touch, into the control, instead of pulling away.
The realization settled low and heavy. Not unpleasant.
“Nothing,” Dennis said, his breath a little quicker now. Because Abbot was already behind him, hands sliding along his sides.
“Got work in the morning,” he added more quietly. Almost innocent. His eyes stayed on Robby.
Abbot took Dennis’s hands and placed them on Robby’s shoulders. The boy tried to look away from the intensity of the man in front of him, but Robby still held his chin, not letting him escape.
Behind him, Abbot’s hands grew bolder, moving along Dennis’s sides. Robby didn’t look anywhere else. He watched every reaction, every shift — it was all there, written plainly across Dennis’s face.
His gaze grew unfocused, his eyelids dipping slightly, his breath catching in uneven patterns. And when Jack pulled him closer from behind, pressed his hips against him a quiet sound slipped from between his lips before he could stop it.
Robby felt it, somewhere deep along his spine. The reactions got to him. More than they should have.
Dennis’s fingers tightened on his shoulders without thinking, holding on. And Robby felt it — that pull, that growing sense of control, of something unraveling right in front of him.
Abbot leaned in, murmuring something low against Dennis’s ear.
The boy dropped his gaze for a second. When he looked back up, his voice was quieter.
“Dr. Robby… please.”
And that was it. Something in Robby snapped into place.
He closed the distance without hesitation, one hand finding Dennis’s waist, pulling him closer — firm, decisive, like he’d already made the choice before he was aware of it. He wanted him closer. Wanted that reaction directed at him. Wanted to hear his name again.
Abbot watched it happen without interrupting. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thought so.”
Dennis barely had time to react before Robby closed the distance between them. Dennis stilled for a fraction of a second, like his body needed to catch up with what was happening. And then he gave in.
Robby felt it immediately. The way the tension shifted. The way Dennis softened instead of pulling back, leaning into him like he’d been waiting for permission he didn’t know he needed.
A quiet breath caught between them. Robby’s grip tightened just slightly, drawing him closer, making sure he stayed.
Abbot didn’t interrupt right away. Then he moved. One step closer, until he was right behind Dennis again, close enough that the space between them disappeared like it had never been there.
Robby felt it — the shift, the way Dennis’s focus flickered for a fraction of a second, caught between them.
Abbot’s hand came up, resting at Dennis’s neck tilting his head slightly back.
“Easy,” he murmured brushing his nose against his ear. Like he knew exactly how much was happening in that moment.
Robby didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, as if to make it clear that he wasn’t giving this up now.
For a brief second, their gazes met — Robby and Abbot. Something unspoken passed between them.
Dennis stayed where he was, caught in the middle of it, breathing a little unevenly now — but not trying to step away. Abbot’s voice dropped again, quieter this time.
“See?” he said, almost under his breath. “Told you.”
And this time, it wasn’t clear which one of them he meant.
***
Dennis hadn’t really slept at all. His body had given in to exhaustion, but his mind had only drifted somewhere just beneath the surface, still heavy with everything he’d felt a moment ago.
He still couldn’t quite believe it, that he’d been with two older men, and how much he’d liked it.
There had to be a name for that kind of hunger. Something biblical, something that came with consequences. One of the seven sins, surely. Lust was the obvious answer. But it didn’t feel that simple. It wasn’t just desire. It was greed, the way he’d wanted more.
Who was he kidding. If there was a hell, he was probably already on his way there — not because of what had happened, but because of how little he regretted it.
He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the dim light. Jack’s arm was draped around his waist, heavy with sleep. Dennis carefully slipped out of his hold, moving slowly, making sure not to wake him. He got dressed quickly, fingers still a little unsteady, and checked for his wallet out of habit.
For a moment, he just stood there at the edge of the bed, looking down at Jack. Thought about waking him and saying something. Leaving like a normal person would. He had never been in a situation like this, so he didn’t know what people usually did.
Whitaker stepped out of the bedroom. The apartment was still dim, lit only by the flickering glow of the TV, so he didn’t notice him at first.
“Can’t sleep?” Robby’s voice came from the dark. Then, a beat, lighter “Or just an early bird?”
Dennis flinched, startled, a flicker of panic tightening in his chest. His eyes snapped to the man on the couch. For a second, he felt like he’d been caught trying to run. Like he’d done something wrong.
Dennis swallowed, then managed a small, almost shy smile.
“I have work tomorrow,” he said. “First day.”
Robby nodded once. Then he stood, reached for his wallet, pulled it open. He didn’t even check how much he was taking out — just a small stack of bills, held between his fingers, and offered it to him.
Dennis froze. His gaze dropped immediately, heat rising to his face. He didn’t know what to do, how to react. The moment suddenly sharp, uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.
“No, you don’t have to.” But he said it too slowly. Didn’t even manage to sound surprised.
They’d talked about it with Abbot. Dennis needed the money. Abbot had offered. But Robby wasn’t supposed to know.
Robby was supposed to think that Dennis had chosen him. It was Abbot’s idea to lift his spirits.
Robby caught his hand and pressed the money into it. The gesture was gentle, but firm. Dennis looked away, heat rising to his cheeks.
“Abbot promised you, didn’t he?” he said. “And now he’s asleep. Such a scumbag”
Slowly, Robby let go of his hand.
“I…” Dennis took a small step closer. “It was… I’ve never…”
“ It’s okay, kid.” Robby said, giving his cheek a light pat but his hand lingered there, resting against Dennis’s skin for just a moment too long.
Dennis wanted to say more. To explain how good it had felt, how Robby had made him feel seen. But the words got stuck somewhere on the way out.
“I had a good time.”
Soft. Almost shy.
***
Robby stepped into the chaos that, at least, didn’t leave him time to think. The moment he crossed the ER threshold, it hit him all at once — unfinished cases, the pressure of time, the weight of expectations from everyone around him. He could work with that.
Dana slipped into it seamlessly, nodding toward a small group in black scrubs.
“Robby, your fresh batch is here.”
Robby put on a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Not long ago, he would’ve said this part of the job was his favorite — training a new generation, brilliant doctors who would go on to save lives.
He stepped toward the group, drawing their attention immediately.
“Welcome to the Pitt. I’m Dr. Robinovich. You can call me Dr. Robby”
As he spoke, his gaze moved across the unfamiliar faces until it stopped on one. When their eyes met, it felt like the air had been pulled out of the room.
He was trained for moments like that — to react, to adapt, to make decisions when every second meant someone’s life. But no
ne had trained him for this.
For recognizing the man he’d had in his bed just hours ago, standing in his ER like he belonged there.
Dennis Whitaker didn’t look away.
*
Dennis couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. His face burned, heat rising fast under his skin. The moment he found an opening, he slipped away to the restroom.As soon as the door closed behind him, he leaned back against the cold wall, tilting his head up.
Of course this would happen to him. Why did it always feel like the universe picked him specifically for things like this? What were the chances that his one-night stand would turn out to be his attending?
Dennis pressed his lips together, already running through the possibilities in his head. Transfer. Different unit. Anything. There had to be a way out of this.
The door opened. The man stepped inside in scrubs, the dark fabric fitting him too well, like it had no right to look that good on him. His sleeves were pushed up slightly, exposing his forearms. Grey hair pushed back, expression calm but there was something sharp in his dark eyes.
Abbot.
Dennis was sure he was imagining things. That this wasn’t real. There was no way his luck could be that bad.
But then Jack smirked. Took a few slow steps closer, that same dangerous, effortless confidence in every movement.
“Oh,” Jack said lightly, eyes fixed on him. “You didn’t say goodbye last night.”
Dennis’s throat went dry.
“I thought—” he started, then lost the thread completely. “What are you doing here? You said you were a cop.”
It came out higher than he intended. Jack stopped just in front of him.
“I said I work with the police,” he corrected, calm, almost amused. “I just didn’t mention I’m a doctor.”
A beat.
“And that I work here. In the ER.”
Dennis became painfully conscious of everything — the space, the fact that the door was still closed behind them, the way Jack was standing just a little too near for this to be anything close to professional.
“You didn’t think to mention it?” he asked, quieter now, but there was something tighter under it.
Jack exhaled softly through his nose.
“Didn’t seem relevant at the time.”
Dennis let out a small, disbelieving breath.
“Right. Of course.”
“I’m screwed. I’m actually screwed. This is the worst day of my life. God, I’m so stupid—”
Whitaker dragged his hands over his face, hiding behind them. Jack laughed low and reached out, ruffling his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Relax, kid,” he said. “You look like you’re about to need me to put my mouth on yours.”
Whitaker’s head snapped up, the flush on his face deepening instantly.
Abbot liked that reaction. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his hand settled briefly at Dennis’s hip.
“I meant CPR,” he added, voice dropping into something softer, almost a murmur. “You look like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.”
Then, quieter
“Though I like where your mind went.”
Dennis looked into his deep, black eyes. felt a hand — strong, large, holding him firmly. Warmth spread from that place. At last, he dropped his gaze, pausing for a moment on his lips as it traveled downward. The weight of the situation was overwhelming, crashing into him with the man’s closeness.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
Dennis looked at him with those wide, open eyes and even someone like Abbot felt it. His hand slipped from Dennis’s hip, settling instead on his shoulder.
“First,” he said, meeting his gaze, “you breathe.”
Whitaker did. Slow like he was following instructions he didn’t fully trust but wanted to.
“If you’re worried about Robby,” Abbot went on, voice calm, controlled, “don’t be.”
He offered him a reassuring smile.
“In the worst case, we pretend nothing happened.”
Dennis held his gaze.
“Robby talks a lot,” Abbot added, almost dry. “But not about things that actually matter. You’re fine.”
And you?
The question flickered through Dennis’s mind, sharp and sudden but he didn’t say it out loud. Didn’t want to make this more complicated than it already was. Because right now, standing this close, Abbot’s presence felt… steady. The firm pressure of his hand on his shoulder. The way he looked at him direct, certain, like everything could be handled if he just said so.
Dennis found himself wanting to lean in. Just a little. He felt that if the man’s strong arms closed around him in an embrace, everything would be okay.To feel that certainty wrap around him completely.
“Focus on your first day,” Abbot said, softer now. “Enjoy it. Don’t overthink.”
He reached up, adjusting Dennis’s hair, fingers brushing through it before settling briefly at the back of his neck. For a second, it felt like he might say something more.
***
Robby was almost proud of himself. He’d made it through the day. He’d even managed to talk to Dennis, look at him the same way he looked at the rest of the students. Professional, distant enough. He’d taught them a few things that actually mattered, watched from a distance as his new group tried to find their footing in the chaos.
He’d tried not to let his thoughts linger on Whitaker for too long. But the kid made that difficult. He was good. Stressed to the point of shaking, maybe — but still sharp, still quick. He answered questions right, came up with solid ideas, and it was obvious how much he cared.
And that was what Robby valued most. Someone else might’ve looked at Whitaker and seen someone too soft for this place. Robby knew better. This job needed people like him — people who felt things too close to the surface, who still carried something real under all of it. The problem was, this place didn’t make it easy for them to last.
Robby finished on time for once. Stepped outside and was met with the cool evening air, letting it hit him like a reset.
***
A few weeks later.
Dennis had a patient chart tucked under his arm, two paper cups of coffee balanced in his hands — risky enough on its own. He was just passing an older woman cuffed to a wheelchair when she spoke up.
“Hey, sweetcake, come”
“Myrna.”
Robby’s raspy voice cut cleanly through the air, stopping her mid-sentence. Dennis turned at the same moment his attending stepped up right behind him and bumped into him.
Coffee sloshed over the rim, hot liquid spilling over Dennis’s hand and onto the floor.
“Ah” he hissed.
Robby caught his elbow instantly, his other hand settling against Dennis’s back to steady him.
“Careful, Whitaker,” he said, more amused than annoyed, taking one of the cups from his hands.
Dennis looked up at him, offering a quick, apologetic smile.
“Is that for me?” Robby asked, leaning in just slightly, his hand still resting at Dennis’s back — closing the space between them without making it obvious.
“For Santos,” Dennis admitted. “She’s unbearable without her morning coffee.”
He tried to ignore the warmth pooling low in his stomach, caused entirely by how close Robby was standing. Something in the air shifted like gravity had changed just enough to keep them there, too close, holding each other’s gaze a second longer than necessary.
“What do I have to do to earn one?” Robby asked lightly.
Dennis blinked, caught off guard for a second. Then a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“You could start by not trying to make me spill it again,” he said quietly. His gaze flicked down, then back up like he was debating something and deciding against it at the last second.
“Or,” he added, softer now, “you could just ask nicely.”
A smile spread across Robby’s lips, his hand shifting slightly against Dennis’s back, like he was about to pull him closer.
“Whitaker, room three!” Dana called out.
Dennis moved before he could think about it. He pressed the second cup into Robby’s hand.
“Give it to Santos if you see her.”
And then he was already gone, heading for the room where he was needed.
*
“Whitaker, room three!”
By the time Dennis pushed the door open, the room was already vibrating with urgency. Monitors screamed in uneven rhythms. Someone was calling out numbers too fast to process. The sharp smell of antiseptic mixed with something metallic hung in the air. The patient lay half-turned on the bed, chest rising in shallow, broken attempts at breath.
“What do we have?” Dennis asked, stepping in, already pulling gloves on, forcing his voice to stay steady.
“Airway’s compromised,” a nurse answered without looking up. “We’re losing him.”
Dennis’s pulse spiked.
“Call”
“Don’t.”
The voice came from behind him, cutting clean through the noise.
Abbot.
Dennis didn’t turn, but he felt it immediately — that shift in the room, subtle but real, like everything had just fallen into a new kind of order. Abbot stepped up beside him, gaze already locked on the patient, taking everything in with one quick sweep.
“We don’t have time to wait,” he said. “We do this now.”
Dennis swallowed.
“Do what?”
Abbot glanced at him, eyes sharp, focused.
“A field technique,” he said. “Used it overseas. It’ll work.”
Garcia stepped in at once, tension snapping through her posture.
“No. Absolutely not. You can’t.”
“He’s doing it.”
He nodded to Dennis. Abbot didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
Garcia moved closer anyway, trying to push past him.
“I’m not letting student butcher a patient because you feel like experimenting”
Abbot shifted. Just one step but it was enough. He placed himself between her and Dennis immovable, his body blocking her path without even looking at her.
“I’ve got him,” he said. Calm. Final.
Then, softer
“Dennis.”
The way he said his name cut through everything else. Dennis looked at him.
“You can do this,” Abbot said, steady, unwavering. “I’ll guide you.”
For a second, the room narrowed. It was just his hands. The patient. Abbot’s voice.
“Okay,” Dennis said, barely audible.
Abbot stepped closer, not touching, but near enough that Dennis could feel him there — a constant presence at his side.
“Angle here,” Abbot instructed quietly. “Follow the line. Slow— yeah. Don’t rush it.”
Dennis’s hands trembled. Just for a second.
“Breathe,” Abbot murmured.
Dennis did. And then his hands steadied.
“Good,” Abbot said. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”
Behind them, Garcia hovered, tense, ready to step in at the first sign of failure but Abbot didn’t move, didn’t give her space.
“Abbot, this is reckless—”
“Give him a second,” he said, still calm, still not looking away from Dennis.
Dennis focused. One movement. Then another. Careful. Precise. Trusting the instructions. Trusting him.
And then the monitor changed. A breath. A real, full breath.
“Airway’s clear,” the nurse said, surprise breaking through her voice.
The room stilled for half a heartbeat. Dennis froze, staring at his hands like they didn’t belong to him. Like he hadn’t just done that. Slowly, he looked up. Abbot was already watching him.
And there it was — pride.
“See?” he said quietly.
Something in Dennis’s chest loosened all at once, relief hitting him so hard it almost made him laugh.
Behind them, Garcia clicked her tongue.
“Congratulations,” she said dryly. “You didn’t kill him.”
But even she didn’t sound entirely unconvinced.
*
Robby stepped into the room just as Dennis was slipping out, a wide, almost disbelieving smile still on his face. For a second, their eyes met — bright, alive, something in Dennis still riding the high of it.
Then he was gone. Robby’s gaze shifted to the patient. Stable. Breathing. Alive. He glanced at Abbot.
Abbot gave him a brief rundown — what they’d done, how it had played out.
“And Whitaker pulled it off,” he finished.
Robby nodded slowly, eyes lingering on him a moment longer than necessary.
“Look at you,” he said, a hint of something sharper under the words. “You’re so whipped for him.”
Abbot huffed, shaking his head, but there was no real denial in it.
“Look at yourself,” he shot back.
Robby didn’t answer. For a brief second, something flickered between them — unspoken, heavy. Abbot’s gaze drifted toward the door Dennis had just disappeared through.
If it weren’t for this place…
They could’ve had him.
***
Abbot knew what it was before anyone else even had time to worry. A family, just back from a trip abroad. All of them presenting the same symptoms. He wasn’t waiting for confirmation.
“Isolation protocol,” he said, already moving.
On a packed ER floor, containment was almost impossible. So he headed for the abandoned wing — the one nobody used unless they had no other choice. He pushed open the door to one of the rooms and stopped.
Dennis was sitting on the bed, a half-unwrapped sandwich in his hands, clearly stolen from the cafeteria. He was hunched over, shoulders drawn in, wearing a loose t-shirt. His things were scattered around him — a couple of books, a damp towel, a charger plugged into the wall like it had been there longer than it should have.
“Whitaker,” Abbot said, brows knitting together. “What are you doing here? You finished your shift with Robby hours ago.”
Dennis froze. That was enough. The look on his face — guilty, caught, something smaller than it should have been — told Abbot everything before he said a word. Abbot’s jaw tightened slightly as the realization settled. Whitaker wasn’t just passing time here. He was staying. Because he had nowhere else to go. Abbot exhaled slowly, pushing that thought aside for now.
“We’ve got four highly infectious cases,” he said, voice returning to something clipped, professional. “I need to put them in here.”
Dennis nodded immediately, already moving.
“Yeah… of course.”
He stood up too fast, starting to gather his things, hands a little unsteady as he shoved them into a bag. Abbot stepped closer. Stopped him. His hand settled on Dennis’s shoulder.
“Hey.”
Dennis looked up. Abbot held his gaze for a second.
“We’ll find you somewhere else to sleep.”
*
Robby sat in his apartment, knowing he should go to sleep. Instead, he stared blankly at the TV, the flickering light washing over the room without really registering. It felt like he couldn’t exist anymore without the constant noise overhead. Like if the sound ever stopped, if the room went quiet, he’d have to face his own thoughts and that wasn’t something he was ready for tonight.
His phone vibrated against the table. He glanced at the screen. Abbot.
A photo.
Robby opened it, frowning slightly — then reached for his glasses, sliding them on before looking again, just to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.
Dennis.
Curled up on the couch in one of the staff rooms, fast asleep. Small. Folded in on himself. Like he didn’t quite belong even there. Another message came through.
Look at the hot homeless guy I found.
Robby didn’t smile. His gaze lingered on the picture, something uneasy settling low in his chest.
Why hadn’t he gone home?
He typed quickly.
Give him money for an Uber. Send him home.
The reply came almost immediately.
He won’t take money from me unless I fuck him first. And I’m a little busy for that right now.
Robby’s jaw clenched. He stared at the message for a second, then went back to the photo.
Dennis, asleep. Unaware. Robby exhaled sharply, grabbed his keys, and stood up. He was going to the hospital.
*
Robby stepped into the ER, but the chaos was so thick no one even noticed him. Voices overlapped, monitors beeped, stretchers moved past him but none of it slowed him down. He went straight for the staff room.
The moment he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he froze. Dennis looked even more fragile than in the photo. Curled up on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, shoes still on — like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all.
Robby moved closer. For a second, he just stood there, watching the soft, unguarded lines of his face in sleep. Then he reached out. His hand settled on Dennis’s shoulder, thumb brushing gently.
“Whitaker.”
Dennis frowned in his sleep. Robby smiled, softer than before, leaning down closer, voice warmer now
“Wake up, Dennis.”
It wasn’t clear if it worked. Because the door opened. Abbot stepped inside. Dennis woke instantly.
His eyes snapped open, wide and disoriented — first landing on Robby, leaning over him. Then shifting to Abbot. He sat up quickly, straightening his clothes like that could fix any of this.
“I knew that the moment you saw that picture, you wouldn’t be able to stay away.” Abbot said, clearly pleased with himself.
Robby ignored him. He crouched down in front of Dennis instead.
“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
Dennis dropped his gaze. Admitting to anyone that he didn’t have a place to stay was hard. Admitting it to them was worse.
“How long have you been crashing here?” Abbot asked bluntly.
Dennis looked up at him, something quiet and sad in his eyes.
“Since I started my rotation.”
“Kid,” he said, less sharp than usual. “You planning on making a habit out of scaring people like that?”
Dennis let out a small breath, something between a laugh and an apology.
“Didn’t mean to.”
A pause.
“I can’t afford a place yet,” he added, his gaze shifting to Robby.
Robby dragged a hand down his face.
“Hey,” he said, softer. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll manage,” Dennis murmured, looking down again.
Abbot let out a short breath, something sharper underneath it.
“If you think we’re letting you sleep in train stations or some shelter, think again.”
Robby shot him a look. Then he reached for Dennis’s bag, picking it up without asking. His other arm came around Dennis’s shoulders.
“You’re coming with me.”
They moved toward the door, Robby’s arm still firm around Dennis’s shoulders, guiding him out. Dennis kept his gaze down, clutching his things, too focused on not making this worse to notice anything else. Just before they stepped into the hallway, Abbot caught Robby’s sleeve, stopping him for half a second.
“Give me a minute,” he said, nodding toward Dennis.
Robby hesitated, then gave a small push to Dennis’s shoulder.
“Go wait by the nurses’ station,” he said quietly.
Dennis nodded without question and walked ahead. Only when he was out of earshot did Abbot speak again.
“Don’t start anything without me.”
Robby stared at him, disbelief flashing across his face.
“There’s not going to be any ‘starting’,” he said, voice low, controlled. “I’m his attending. He’s homeless.”
Abbot shrugged, unfazed.
“And?”
“It means he’ll feel like he owes me, since I’m letting him sleep at my place.”
Abbot huffed, like that was the least convincing argument he’d heard all day.
“You think too much,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
*
They stepped into the apartment, the quiet settling around them almost immediately. Dennis hovered near the door for a second, like he wasn’t sure how much space he was allowed to take up. Robby took the bag from his hands without asking and set it down on the table.
“I’ll show you where…” he started, then paused when the zipper slid open slightly and a few things shifted inside.
A book slipped out. Robby picked it up absentmindedly. The margins were full. Little sketches, parts of anatomy traced over in color, arrows, notes, tiny details added like Dennis was trying to understand it by touching it onto the page. Robby flipped a page. Even more.
Dennis stepped closer quickly.
“I…” he started, a little flushed now. “It just helps me remember things. If I draw it or something.”
Robby didn’t look up right away. He kept turning pages, slower this time.
“This is good,” he said finally.
Dennis blinked.
“It is?”
Robby huffed softly, something like a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yeah. You’re building muscle memory without realizing it. You’re not just memorizing you’re processing.”
He glanced up at him then.
“When I was studying anatomy, I used to redraw everything from memory. Over and over again. Whole structures.”
Dennis’s eyes lit up a little.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Robby said. “Drove everyone around me insane.”
That earned a small laugh. Robby handed the book back, but his fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary.
“You’re doing it right,” he added, quieter now.
Dennis looked down at the pages in his hands, then back at him. Something in his shoulders loosened.
Robby leaned against the bedroom doorway, arms loosely crossed.
“You’re taking the bed.”
Dennis shook his head immediately.
“No way.”
“Whitaker”
“I’m serious,” Dennis cut in, a little more stubborn than usual. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
Robby raised a brow.
“You’re not kicking me out. I’m telling you to take it.”
“Yeah, that still sounds like kicking you out.”
Robby huffed a quiet laugh, shifting his weight against the frame.
“You’ve been sleeping on a couch in a hospital. You’re taking the bed.”
Dennis crossed his arms now, mirroring him without realizing.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re exhausted.”
Dennis tilted his head slightly, something softer slipping into his expression.
“Okay,” he said.
Robby narrowed his eyes a little.
“That sounded too easy.”
Dennis’s mouth curved, just slightly.
“I’ll take the bed,” he said. “If you’re in it too.”
Robby stared at him for a second. And just like that, the memory hit. His jaw tightened just slightly, something flickering behind his eyes before he pushed it down.
“That’s not happening,” he said, a little too quickly.
Dennis just shrugged, like it didn’t matter.
“Then I’ll take the couch.”
Robby exhaled, already about to argue again but Dennis stepped forward.
And then Dennis kissed him. His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly against Robby’s side like he needed something to steady himself, like he was choosing this and still a little afraid of it.
Robby didn’t react at first. Just stood there. Then his breath caught and he leaned in just a fraction — enough to answer it without fully taking control.
The kiss lingered. Too easy to stay in. When Dennis finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. His eyes lifted to Robby’s, searching for a reaction, a sign he hadn’t crossed a line he couldn’t come back from.
“That,” Dennis said quietly, breath uneven, “was me asking nicely.”
For a second, Robby just looked at him. Then his hand moved first — gripping Dennis’s waist, pulling him in, closing whatever space was left between them. The other came up to the back of Dennis’s head, fingers threading into his hair, holding him there as he kissed him again.
This time it wasn’t careful. It was deeper. Like he’d stopped holding himself back.
Dennis let out a soft sound against his mouth, something caught between a breath and a quiet gasp, and Robby felt the way his body leaned into him, the way his hands tightened in his shirt without even thinking. It pulled something tighter in Robby’s chest. He pressed him closer, instinct taking over, the kiss turning more urgent, more consuming than it had any right to be.
Robby pulled back abruptly, breath heavier now, his grip loosening but not fully letting go.
“Fuck.”
He dragged a hand down his face, stepping back.
“I’m your boss,” he said, voice rougher than before. “I can’t… I’m not allowed to…”
Dennis opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something but the words didn’t come. His gaze was still a little unfocused, lips parted, cheeks flushed — and for a split second, Robby nearly leaned in again.
Christ.
“No,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.
He stepped back fully this time, forcing space between them.
“Get in the bed, Whitaker.”
It came out sharper than he intended. Then he turned and walked straight toward the bathroom, like distance was the only thing keeping him in control. The door closed behind him.
*
Dennis lay in Robby’s bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the kiss over and over again.
What had possessed him?
Maybe it was that ever since that night — with Robby, with Abbot — he hadn’t felt that warmth again. That quiet fire under his skin.
And when Robby had been standing that close… He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching for it. Dennis closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. He heard the bathroom door open. Footsteps. Then the mattress dipped slightly behind him. For a moment, they just lay there.
Dennis could feel him there — the heat of his body, the quiet presence.
Then “Fuck it,” Robby muttered.
And moved closer. An arm slid around Dennis’s waist, pulling him back, firm and certain, until their bodies aligned. Dennis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Robby’s hold tightened slightly, like he’d made a decision and wasn’t taking it back.
Dennis shifted just a fraction, fitting into the space naturally, like it had been waiting for him. Robby’s chest pressed warm against his back, his breath slow and even near his neck. There was nothing rushed about it. Just closeness. The kind that settled under the skin.
Dennis let his eyes fall shut again, his body finally relaxing into the weight of it, into the quiet certainty of being held. And for the first time in a long while he felt safe.
***
The apartment was still dark when the door opened. Abbot stepped inside quietly, keys tossed onto the counter, the place still carrying that heavy, sleepy silence of early morning. He shrugged off his jacket.
He moved down the hallway, slower now, pushing the bedroom door open just enough to look inside. Well.
There they were.
Robby and Dennis, tangled together in the bed, Dennis half-buried against Robby’s chest, Robby’s arm still wrapped around him like he hadn’t let go even in sleep.
Abbot leaned against the doorframe, taking it in for a second.
“Oh, come on.”
Robby stirred first, brow furrowing before his eyes opened, immediately landing on Abbot.
“Seriously?” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.
Dennis blinked awake a second later, disoriented until he realized where he was. And who was watching. He froze.
Abbot smirked.
“Guess I should’ve knocked,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
Robby groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
Abbot raised a brow.
“Really? Because it looks exactly like what I said not to start without me.”
Dennis’s face went red instantly.
“I… we didn’t…”
Abbot pushed himself off the doorframe, cutting him off with a small wave of his hand.
“Relax, kid. I’m kidding.”
A beat.
“Mostly.”
Robby shot him a look.
“Get out.”
“Not a chance.” Abbot smirked. “You owe me a cigarette for emotional damage.”
That got a quiet, almost embarrassed huff out of Dennis. Robby exhaled, already sitting up.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Balcony.”
A few minutes later, the three of them stood outside, the early morning air cold enough to wake anyone up. The sky was just starting to lighten — pale gold bleeding slowly into blue. Robby leaned against the railing, flicking his lighter open. The small flame caught, steady despite the cold morning air. He lit his cigarette first, taking a slow drag then, without a word, reached over and held the flame out for Abbot.
Abbot leaned in, lighting his own, the brief glow illuminating the line of his jaw. Dennis watched them. The quiet coordination. The way they moved around each other like it was second nature.
God.
They looked… good like this.
“Might I?” Dennis asked, nodding toward the pack.
Abbot didn’t even hesitate.
“That’ll give you cancer, kid.”
Dennis huffed softly, but didn’t argue.
Robby, meanwhile, exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the morning air then turned. Before Dennis could react, Robby reached out, both hands coming up to cradle his face. Dennis’s breath caught.
Robby leaned in just enough and exhaled the smoke into his parted lips.
Dennis inhaled instinctively, the taste sharp, unfamiliar, mixed with something warmer — something that had nothing to do with the cigarette. For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Robby pulled back just slightly, his hands still holding Dennis in place. Abbot watched from the side, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s definitely healthier.”
Abbot watched them for a second longer, that slow, knowing smirk still on his face. Then he pushed himself off the railing. Before Dennis could fully process it, Abbot stepped in, turning him gently but firmly to face him instead. The movement was smooth. Confident. Dennis barely had time to react before Abbot slipped the cigarette between his lips.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice lower now.
His arm came around Dennis’s waist, pulling him closer. Dennis’s breath hitched slightly. Abbot leaned in, slow this time. His lips brushed along the side of Dennis’s neck — light at first, almost teasing.
Dennis’s shoulders tensed for a second then softened. Abbot didn’t hurry it. Each touch was measured, dragging just enough to leave a trace, something warm and distracting that made it harder to focus on anything else.
The cigarette burned quietly between Dennis’s lips, forgotten for a moment. Behind them, Robby watched. Dennis’s fingers slid into Abbot’s hair, gripping just a little tighter, pulling him closer.
No more teasing. He wanted to feel it.
Abbot let out a low breath against his skin, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it — just enough to answer that pull without losing control of the moment.
And then another presence behind him.
Robby.
A hand came up, fingers firm under Dennis’s chin, tilting his head just slightly back.
“Doesn’t suit you,” Robby murmured.
He took the cigarette from Dennis’s lips, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it under his shoe without looking. Then he didn’t hesitate. His hand stayed where it was, holding Dennis in place as he leaned in and kissed him.
Dennis’s breath caught, his grip tightening instinctively — one hand still tangled in Abbot’s hair, the other curling against Robby’s wrist.
He could feel them both. One in front of him, one behind him. Warmth on both sides. No space left to retreat into.
The air on the balcony shifted. Robby was the first to pull back. Just enough to look at Dennis properly. There was something different in his expression now. His hand slid up, brushing lightly along Dennis’s jaw before he leaned in, close to his ear.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured.
Abbot stilled too.
“Hey,” he said, low.
Dennis felt both of them pause around him.
“Tell us what you want.”
Dennis swallowed. His cheeks were flushed, breath uneven.
“I…”
A small, nervous exhale.
“I want you.”
A beat.
“Both of you.”
Something in the air snapped into place. Robby’s gaze darkened, something deeper flickering behind it. Abbot’s grip tightened just slightly where he held him.
“Together,” Dennis added, quieter now, but no less certain.
That was enough. Abbot moved first. One smooth motion — arms sliding around Dennis, lifting him easily, like the decision had already been made the moment he’d spoken. Dennis let out a small, surprised breath, instinctively holding onto him. Robby stepped back just enough to let them pass, but his eyes never left them.
Never left him.
They moved inside, the warmth of the apartment closing around them as the balcony door slid shut behind them. Abbot set Dennis down slowly, but his hands lingered like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Abbot sat down on the edge of the bed first, pulling Dennis with him just enough to keep him close. Robby stepped in right after, the space between them disappearing naturally. Hands found fabric. A shirt pushed off Dennis’s shoulders. Fingers brushing skin like they were memorizing it. Robby’s hand slid along his side, steadying him, while Abbot’s thumb traced slow, absent circles at his hip.
The first kisses came easily. Dennis turned toward Robby kiss him soft then deeper. And when he pulled back, slightly breathless, his gaze flickered to Abbot. Because Robby had turned too.
For a brief second, the two older men just looked at each other. Then Robby leaned in first. The kiss between them was different. Grounded in something older, something that didn’t need to prove itself. Abbot’s hand came up to Robby’s jaw, holding him there for just a moment longer before letting him go.
Dennis watched. Felt it. Something tighten low in his chest — not jealousy. Something warmer. Like he was being let into something that already existed.
When Robby pulled back, his hand found Dennis again immediately, like that connection hadn’t been broken for a second. And Dennis leaned back into them. Clothes slipped away more easily now, forgotten piece by piece, their attention shifting from movement to touch.
Then Dennis stilled. His gaze dropped to Abbot. To the way he sat at the edge of the bed. And something in Dennis softened. He moved closer, slower now, more deliberate. Abbot watched him - not stopping.
Dennis’s fingers moved with quiet certainty, not rushed as he reached for the prosthetic. He removed the prosthetic carefully, like it mattered how he did it. Like it mattered that it didn’t feel like something being taken away.
Dennis looked up at him for a second, asking something without words. Abbot didn’t stop him.
So Dennis leaned in. And pressed a soft kiss to the place where the prosthetic had been.
Not pitying. Just… warm. Intentional
Abbot’s breath caught.
Robby went completely still. Something in his expression changed — the sharp edges softening into something deeper, something almost protective. Because this wasn’t just heat anymore.
Dennis didn’t rush away. His hand rested there. Abbot’s fingers found his jaw, tilting his head up slightly to meet his eyes. For a moment, no one spoke.
Robby stepped closer, his hand settling at Dennis’s back. And when Dennis leaned back into them again It wasn’t just want anymore.
***
A few days later.
Dennis stood in the kitchen, stirring something on the pan, the soft sizzle filling the apartment. The front door opened.
“You didn’t lock the door again,” Abbot’s voice carried in before he even appeared.
Dennis shook his head, smiling faintly to himself as he kept stirring. A second later, Jack stepped into the kitchen. He didn’t say anything else. He crossed the space between them and abruptly turned Dennis toward him and kissed him deep. Enough to steal the breath right out of him.
Dennis let out a soft, surprised sound, his hand coming up instinctively to grab onto Abbot’s arm to steady himself as his knees nearly gave out. When Jack pulled back, there was a clear satisfaction in his expression.
“Stop,” Dennis muttered, breath a little uneven, turning back toward the stove. “It’s going to burn.”
Abbot didn’t move far. His arms slipped around Dennis’s waist from behind, pulling him close, his chin resting briefly against his shoulder.
“Smells good,” he murmured.
“It’ll be ready in a minute,” Dennis replied, trying to focus on the pan again.
“Where’s Robby?” Abbot asked.
“He went out. Said he had something to take care of.”
Abbot pulled back slightly, something shifting in his expression.
“This month we get, what, four days where we’re all actually off at the same time,” he said, sharper now, “and he decides today’s the day to run errands?”
Dennis glanced over his shoulder at him, then back at the pan.
“He’ll be back,” he said quietly.
Abbot huffed under his breath, but didn’t argue right away. Dennis softened just slightly, nudging him back with his elbow.
“Help me instead of complaining.”
Abbot raised a brow.
“You’re bossy for someone who was sleeping in a hospital break room last week.”
Dennis smiled under his breath.
“Yeah,” he said. “Look how far I’ve come.”
The doorbell rang. Dennis raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder.
“You locked the door?”
Abbot nodded once.
“Then go open it.”
Jack muttered something under his breath about needing to get Whitaker his own set of keys and went to the door.
“Ah. You again,” Abbot greeted dryly.
Robby didn’t even bother answering. He stepped in, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him.
“I was just saying,” Abbot started as they pulled apart, “this month we get four whole days where we’re all off together…”
“You should switch to day shifts,” Robby cut in, already moving past him toward the kitchen.
“And work under you? I’d rather not,” Abbot scoffed, following him in. “We should just go on vacation.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Robby muttered.
He stepped up beside Dennis and handed him a small package.
“This is for you.”
Dennis blinked, surprised, then smiled as he took it.
“For me?”
“Open it.”
He did. Inside was an anatomical atlas.
Dennis’s eyes widened.
“It’s Netter,” Robby said. “Open it.”
Dennis flipped it open and froze. The pages weren’t just diagrams. They were structured, detailed… but designed to be filled in. Colored. Worked through. A perfect hybrid.
“Makes it easier, right?” Robby added quietly.
Dennis looked up at him, something soft and bright breaking across his face. Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.
Robby exhaled softly, his hands coming up to Dennis’s back, holding him there, eyes closing for just a second. Like he needed that moment.
From the doorway, Abbot watched them, arms crossed.
“…Yeah, great,” he muttered. “Meanwhile I’m the one who actually kept him alive long enough to use that thing.”
Robby didn’t even look at him.
“Jack,” he said calmly, “don’t make me think you’re jealous.”
Abbot scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.
Dennis pulled back slightly, still smiling, shaking his head under his breath.
Idiots, he thought. Old idiots.
But something warm settled in his chest anyway.
“Food,” he said, turning back to the stove before it actually did burn.
*
A little later, they were all crammed onto Robby’s couch. Three plates balanced between them, the TV playing some random game show no one had chosen on purpose. Robby sat in the middle, remote in hand, half-focused on the screen. Abbot leaned back into the corner, one arm thrown lazily along the back of the couch. Dennis sat close shoulders brushing, warmth shared without comment.
“Are they serious?” Abbot muttered. “Who doesn’t know that answer?”
“Shh,” Dennis said, nudging him lightly.
Robby huffed a quiet laugh.
The quiet, easy presence of each other. No one was rushing anywhere. No one was leaving. And for the first time in a long while— They were all exactly where they wanted to be.
***
A month later…
Dennis didn’t have much to pack. A small bag sat open on the bed, half-filled — a few folded clothes, a charger, things that never really settled into the space, even after weeks of being there. He moved quietly, almost carefully, like he didn’t want to disturb anything that wasn’t his to begin with.
That was how Abbot found him. The door opened without warning.
“What the hell”
The words cut off mid-breath as his gaze landed on the bag. On the open drawers. On Dennis.
“What are you doing?”
Dennis stilled.
“…Packing,” he said, too quiet.
Abbot went still, tension tightening across his shoulders, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. Dennis’s fingers curled tighter around the shirt he’d been about to pack.
“Was it Robby?” Abbot asked. “Did he say something? I told you to take him with a grain of salt, he’s…”
“Robby didn’t say anything,” Dennis cut in. He meant to add more. That it made sense to leave. That he had never planned to stay this long in the first place.
But Abbot had already moved. He grabbed the bag.
“Fine,” he said. “Then you’ll stay with me. I’ve been thinking about it anyway. I’m barely home, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”
“But I can’t live with you.”
Dennis didn’t let go of the bag. That seemed to surprise Abbot more than the words themselves. For a second, they just stood there, both holding on.
“Great,” he said flatly. “Just fantastic.”
Something in his expression shifted.
“So what is it, then?” he went on, quieter now. “You can stay with him, you can’t stay with me?”
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Or is it just that I’m good enough to drag you into his bed, but not good enough for anything after?”
Dennis froze.
“That’s not…”
“Right,” Abbot cut in sharply. “Of course it’s not.”
His gaze hardened.
“God, Whitaker… you’re smarter than I thought.”
Dennis pressed his lips together, reaching for the bag, trying to pull it back.
“Your parents must be proud,” Abbot added, voice turning colder, sharper — precise enough to hit exactly where it hurt.
Dennis flinched.
“Found yourself someone you don’t have to sleep with for a place to stay?” Abbot went on, each word deliberate. “Don’t kid yourself.”
Dennis’s fingers tightened around the strap.
“I would’ve let you stay,” Abbot said, quieter now, but no less cruel. “As long as you kept making it worth my while.”
That did it. Dennis’s vision blurred. He let go of the bag. Just grabbed his phone instead, movements rushed, unsteady, and headed straight for the door.
“Yeah,” Abbot called after him, voice cutting through the space.
“You were just convenient.”
It landed like a punch. Dennis felt it low, sharp — like something had struck him straight in the stomach, knocking the air out of him for a second.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. But his grip tightened around his phone, fingers trembling just slightly as he pushed the door open.
*
Robby had finished his shift an hour ago, but he kept glancing toward the doors, impatient. Ever since someone had been waiting for him at home, it had become harder to stay late at work.
A faint smile slipped onto his face before he could stop it, the image coming back easily — Dennis curled up on the couch next to Jack, that quiet way he had of folding into a space, and the way his whole expression lit up the second he saw Robby.
He didn’t deserve that smile.
His phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. Robby pulled it out, frowning slightly when he saw Abbot’s name.
Whitaker at the Pitt?
Robby’s brows drew together. That wasn’t like Abbot — not to know exactly where their twink was.
No. He finished his shift already.
He hesitated for a second, unease settling somewhere low. Then added:
He’s not at the apartment?
Robby opened a new message thread and typed:
Just leaving the Pitt. Text me when you get a minute.
Just in case.
He switched back and read Abbot’s reply.
His phone’s off. I’m calling Hero— I’ll get his location.
Robby’s eyes widened.
What the hell
Don’t. I’m on my way.
He sent it before he could think twice. The phone disappeared back into his pocket as he turned, already moving. Leaving everything else behind.
*
Robby pushed the door open without knocking. The apartment felt wrong immediately.
Abbot was pacing the length of the living room like a caged animal, back and forth, back and forth — sharp turns, restless energy coiled under his skin. He didn’t even look up at first.
“Where is he?” Robby asked.
Abbot stopped.
“Gone.”
The word landed flat.
Robby frowned.
“What do you mean, gone?”
Abbot let out a short breath, something close to a laugh but without any humor in it.
“I mean he packed his things and walked out.”
Robby went still.
“…Why?”
Abbot’s jaw tightened.
“You tell me.”
That was enough to snap something in Robby.
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t do that.”
Abbot stepped closer, tension still radiating off him.
“I leave him here with you and suddenly he decides to move out?”
“What did you do?” Robby asked, his gaze catching on Dennis’s bag — half-packed, abandoned on the couch.
Abbot looked away. Robby knew that look. He’d known him too long. Guilt. Cold realization settled in his chest.
“What did you say to him?” Robby asked, quieter now.
Abbot glanced back at him. Something in his expression cracked, just slightly.
“I was pissed,” he muttered. “I didn’t think about what I was saying.”
“What did you say to him?”
No answer. Robby’s patience snapped.
“What did you say?”
Louder this time. Sharp.
Abbot’s jaw tightened.
“I told him he was just…” he stopped, like the words didn’t want to come out this time.
Robby took a step closer.
“Say it.”
Abbot exhaled hard.
“I told him he was just convenient.”
Robby stared at Abbot, feeling the anger crawl slowly up his spine.
“And what exactly did you think that would do?” he asked, voice low, tight. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t going to make him stay.”
“I was pissed,” Abbot said again.
Robby shook his head once, sharp, like he didn’t want to hear it. He turned away from him, bracing his hands against the counter. For a moment, it had felt like they had something. Something rare. Dennis had given them that — something soft, something real, something neither of them had been looking for but had taken anyway.
And now Abbot had…
“Fuck!”
The word tore out of him as he kicked the leg of the table hard enough to make it rattle. For a moment, the room fell completely silent.
Two people. Too much emotion. No space left for anything else.
Robby forced himself to breathe through it, to push the anger down, to get a grip. Someone had to handle this. Across from him, Abbot was unraveling in the opposite direction — pacing, restless, the need to do something crawling under his skin.
“I’ll call Hero,” he said suddenly, grabbing onto the idea like a lifeline. “He can track him.”
Robby let out a short, humorless breath.
“And then what?” he asked, turning slightly. “You find him and what— drag him back here?”
Abbot ignored the tone.
“We don’t even know where he was going,” he said, faster now. “What if he’s not somewhere safe?”
The thought landed.
“I’m going out,” Abbot added, already moving. “If Hero finds him—”
“Stop.”
Robby turned fully now, his expression tired but firm.
“You’re staying.”
Abbot froze.
“The hell I am.”
“You’ve done enough for today.”
The words hit harder than shouting would have.
“We wait,” Robby went on. “He might reach out.”
Abbot stared at him, something sharp flickering in his eyes.
“So I’m supposed to just sit here and do nothing?”
He was already gearing up for a fight.
Robby didn’t raise his voice.
“Think,” he said instead. “Think about how you’re going to apologize.”
*
After a while, Dennis finally texted Robby:
“I’m at Santos’s. My phone died.”
The relief that washed over Robby was overwhelming. Suddenly, he could breathe again. For a brief moment, he glanced at Abbot and a bitter, selfish thought crossed his mind. To keep it to himself. Just for a second longer.
But then he looked at him properly. At the tension in his shoulders. At the sharp line of his profile. Robby had never seen Jack look this worried before. And he knew whatever was going on inside his head, it wasn’t kind.
“He’s at Santos’s” Robby said.
Abbot moved instantly, already heading for the door.
“I’m going to get him.”
Robby reached out, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.
“No. I’ll go.”
Abbot turned, ready to argue. Then stopped. Something in Robby’s expression made him let it go. Robby pulled out his phone and typed quickly:
“Can I bring you your bag? I’ll come alone.”
Robby was already on his bike when the message came through.
“Yeah… please.”
A second later, the address followed.
*
When he got there, he spotted him immediately — a small figure pacing just outside the door. Robby pulled up, cut the engine, and took off his helmet.
Dennis turned the second he heard him and walked over quickly. There was tension written all over him in the way he moved, in the tightness of his expression.
Robby smiled at him and leaned in to pull him into an embrace. For a split second, he meant to kiss him but the moment he felt how tense Dennis was in his arms, he stopped himself. He settled for a quick kiss against his cheek.
“Hey, kid,” Robby said softly.
Dennis avoided his gaze for a moment, but he didn’t step back. If anything, he stayed close enough that Robby could touch him if he wanted to.
“I’m sorry… about all of this,” Dennis said, scratching the back of his neck. “I probably should’ve told you, but Santos offered me a place to stay…”
“Hey…” Robby reached for his hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”
Dennis let out a shaky breath. Robby pulled him closer then, arms wrapping around his waist, holding him between his legs.
They stayed like that for a moment — foreheads pressed together, sharing the same space, the same air. And then Whitaker said—
“Is Jack mad?”
Robby pulled back slightly so he could look at him.
“Mad? No.”
His hand came up, brushing gently along Dennis’s cheek.
“He’s worried. Losing his mind, actually.”
“That’s not what I wanted.”
“Serves him right,” Robby said, studying him more closely now. “He earned it after what he said.”
Dennis finally looked up, and their eyes met. Robby caught it immediately — something had shifted. Something subtle, but different.
He was about to ask when the door behind Dennis opened. Dennis flinched like he’d been burned, stepping away too quickly.
Robby’s brow lifted slightly in surprise.
“I thought it was Santos,” Dennis said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t tell her about us… I didn’t even know what I would say.”
Robby felt it then. This was the moment. The one where things had to be defined, named, claimed. And that terrified him. Because saying it out loud meant responsibility.
It meant looking Dennis in the eye and promising something he wasn’t sure he knew how to promise even if he wanted to. Even if he really, really wanted to.
He exhaled slowly.
“Come with me,” he said finally. “We’ll talk to Abbot.”
Dennis didn’t look convinced.
“Let’s not leave this hanging,” Robby added. “If we do, it’s just going to grow between us. We need to figure it out before it turns into something worse.”
Dennis stepped closer again.
Robby held his gaze.
“I promise,” he said softly, “if you want, I’ll bring you back here tonight.”
Dennis nodded.
“Okay.”
And just like that they left together.
***
Abbot was pacing when they walked in. Like a caged animal. He stopped the second he saw Dennis. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Robby stayed back, leaning against the wall — close enough to step in, far enough to let it happen.
“Whitaker.”
Abbot closed the distance between them without warning, looking Dennis over like he was checking for damage, like he needed to make sure he was actually okay.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” he added, crossing his arms like that might hide the edge in his voice.
“My phone died.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Dennis saw it then, unguarded in his face. Like it had actually hurt.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Abbot huffed, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, well— you did.”
Silence stretched between them. Dennis shifted his weight slightly.
“That’s enough,” Robby cut in, voice calm but firm. “You owe him an apology.”
Abbot shook his head, eyes still locked on Dennis.
“Is that what you want?”
“He deserves it,” Robby said sharply.
Abbot stilled like someone who wasn’t used to being told he was wrong. Then his gaze flickered back to Dennis and something in him gave. He stepped closer again and took Dennis’s hands in his own.
“What I said… it doesn’t matter. It’s not true.”
He brought Dennis’s hands up, pressing a soft kiss to them so gentle it didn’t look like something Abbot was capable of.
“I was angry,” he admitted, quieter now. “Because I thought I was losing you.”
Dennis looked at him steadily.
“I don’t think you were afraid of losing me.”
You could see it happen. The realization settling in uncomfortable. Robby went still beside them, watching. Dennis didn’t look away this time.
“I think you were afraid of losing control.”
That landed hard. Abbot stared at him like it actually hurt.
“Is that what you think this is?”
Dennis didn’t answer and that was answer enough.
Abbot exhaled sharply, looking away for a second.
“Yeah. Okay,” he muttered. “That’s on me.”
For a brief moment, he glanced at Robby — like he expected help, or maybe backup. It didn’t come. So he looked back at Dennis instead. He reached up and took his face in his hands.
“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, the words rough, unfamiliar. “Feelings. Talking. Whatever the hell this is.”
A pause.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not…”
He stopped himself.
“You matter,” he said instead.
Dennis’s hands slid to Abbot’s wrists, gently but firmly pulling them away from his face. For a second, Abbot looked almost confused and then Dennis stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Abbot froze for half a heartbeat. Then instinct took over. His arms came around Dennis pulling him in tighter, like he didn’t even have to think about it.
Dennis leaned in, closer, his breath warm against Abbot’s ear.
“I care about you more than I should.” he whispered.
Something in Abbot broke. You could see it the way his shoulders dropped, the way his grip tightened, like he didn’t want to let go. He pressed a kiss to Dennis’s temple, then his cheek, then wherever he could reach.
Robby watched and he saw the confession already hanging in the room. And he wasn’t ready for it. If they were ready for something real… What if they didn’t need him in it?
Robby inhaled slowly. In moments like this, he always reached for the same two things - control or escape.
He stepped forward, closed the distance. His hand came up, fingers threading into Abbot’s hair to pull him back slightly breaking the moment.
“Come on,” Robby said, voice low, steady but edged with something else.
“You can do better than that.”
Abbot stepped back, confusion across his face but it didn’t last long. Because then he saw Robby. The way something darker slipped into his expression as he pulled his hoodie off and let it fall to the floor. Then his hands were on Dennis lifting his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders.
Dennis barely had time to react before Robby leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his lips. Then Robby shifted behind him, his hands settling on Dennis’s hips, holding him in place as his lips brushed along his neck.
Dennis melted into it almost instantly. His body softened, yielding without resistance, eyes falling shut like he trusted the moment to carry him.
Abbot took a step forward but Robby looked up.
“On your knees.”
The words were calm but there was no mistaking them.
Dennis’s breath caught. His eyes widened slightly. He didn’t think Abbot would actually…
But Jack didn’t argue. He pulled his shirt off and lowered himself down. And suddenly the air in the room changed again.
“He… no, you don’t have to…” Dennis started, trying to move, to reach for him. But Robby’s hands tightened just slightly at his hips, holding him in place.
“Stay,” Robby murmured quietly, close to his ear.
And Dennis stilled. The room fell into a different kind of silence.
Robby’s hand slid down, fingers catching briefly at the waistband of Dennis’s jeans claiming the moment. Then he grabs at Dennis’s belt.
“Easy,” he murmured softly, voice low against Dennis’s ear. “He doesn’t bite.”
Then he unbuckles it looking into Abbot’s eyes.
Dennis let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling instinctively at Robby’s forearm
Abbot watched it all from below. He roughly put Dennis's pants down along with his underwear. Then he began to trace his hands along his legs.
Dennis felt the cold air on him and squeezed his eyes shut. Behind him, Robby didn’t stop his lips brushing slowly along Dennis’s neck, lingering just enough to keep him right on the edge of focus and distraction.
Dennis’s head tipped back slightly, eyes slipping closed.
And then Abbot moved. Slow at first. Dennis felt the warmth of Abbot’s lips closing in around him. Dennis’s breath hitched, his body reacting before he could think, pulled between them held, wanted.
For a moment, everything narrowed down to sensation and presence. Robby behind him. Abbot in front of him. Robby’s grip tightened just slightly, his breath warmer now against Dennis’s skin — less controlled, more urgent.
Abbot answered it immediately. Whatever restraint had been there before dissolved in an instant.
Hands, breath, closeness — it all blurred together too quickly to separate one from the other. Three bodies, one shared rhythm — not chaotic, but intense in a way that left no room for anything else.
Just the quiet, desperate need to stay here where nothing had to be explained.
***
They ended up on the couch without really deciding to. Half-undressed, still warm, still too close. Dennis sat between them, his back resting against Robby’s chest, one of Robby’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against his skin. Abbot sat close in front of him, one knee hooked against Dennis’s leg, their bodies still not fully untangled. He absentmindedly stroked his calf
A cigarette burned between Abbot’s fingers. He took a drag, then passed it without asking. Robby took it next, leaning slightly to the side, careful not to fully let go of Dennis as he exhaled toward the ceiling.
The room was full of everything they hadn’t said.
Abbot glanced at Dennis.
“You’re coming back,” he said, like it was already decided.
Dennis shook his head.
“No. I’m going back to Santos. I need some space from this.”
Abbot frowned.
“From what?”
From us, hung in the air without being said.
Dennis dragged a hand over his face, fingers catching briefly in his hair.
“I don’t” he started, then exhaled. “I’m really grateful. For both of you.”
His voice softened.
“But I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what’s happening between us.”
Robby’s arm tightened slightly around him, pulling him closer, his chin brushing against Dennis’s temple. But his eyes were sad.
Abbot leaned forward just a little.
“If you’ve got questions, ask,” he said, a bit too sharp, a bit too quick — like defiance was easier than vulnerability. Then softer, almost contradicting himself, his hand finding Dennis’s and holding on.
“I’ll answer anything.”
Dennis looked down at their hands.
“I started feeling… too good with you,” he admitted quietly. “Too safe.”
Robby pressed a gentle kiss just behind his ear.
“That’s the point,” he murmured.
Abbot searched his face then, really looked at him.
“And for the record,” he said, voice lower now. “I didn’t bring you here to use you. I brought you because I wanted you there.”
Dennis’s expression softened. He reached up, resting his hand against Abbot’s cheek. Abbot leaned into it without hesitation, pressing a small kiss to his palm.
“And the longer you stay,” he added quietly, “the more I want you.”
Dennis’s breath caught slightly.
“I just don’t know how to be in this without feeling like I owe you something,” he admitted.
Abbot shook his head immediately.
“You don’t owe me shit.”
“Then why does it feel like I do?” Dennis asked, softer now.
Robby and Abbot exchanged a long look. Something unspoken passing between them.
Then Robby spoke.
“Dennis… you don’t owe us anything,” he said gently. “It’s enough that you’re here.”
A pause.
“And we’re both completely losing our heads over you.”
That earned the faintest, almost sad smile. Silence settled again. Heavier this time. Dennis leaned back slightly into Robby, just for a second then slowly pulled away.
“I think… I need a break,” he said quietly.
“Not from you,” he added quickly. “Just… from this. From whatever this is.”
Neither of them stopped him. That might have been the hardest part. Abbot’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Robby’s hand lingered for a second longer on Dennis’s side then fell away.
Dennis stood, gathering what little was left of himself from the moment.
“I’ll call you,” he said softly.
And this time they let him go.