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Dr. Robby is in a mood today.
He came in already grouchy, having tried to bike in and being washed out by a sudden summer storm. It had come out of nowhere - from a clear sunrise to dark skies and downpour in five minutes flat, and over just as quick, unluckily coiciding perfectly with his commute. He's late, he's drenched - even his backpack didn't weather it, so his change of clothes is out of commission too. It's quarter after seven by the time he's in fresh scrubs and trying to dry out his phone and earbuds in the break room with paper towels.
Dr. Mohan is the first unlucky one to cross his path, poking her head about to try to present a patient when she gets a rough, "What?!" barked at her before she even speaks, and she backs out of the room to give him some space.
By eighty-thirty, he's already torn into half the staff. Everyone is on edge - common area chatter stops when he exits the exam rooms, nurses scatter and try to look busy when he passes.
It's Mel who is the breaking point. It's eleven by now, and the past four hours' worth of tension is stressing her out, and she's humming to self-soothe as she does her charting at a station next to Whitaker.
Whitaker can admit, it's a little grating, but he's good at tuning out the assorted sounds of the ED. He's also aware that his sort-of-boyfriend, definitely-boss's short temper has become contagious. Everyone's on a short fuse. Still, Mel is sensitive, and the over the past few months everyone has reached the same conclusion as she's mentored them on best practices autistic patients - that despite Mel's painfully ironic lack of self-awareness, her sister is not the only King on the spectrum. Whitaker doesn't try to treat her with kid gloves, but he does bear it in mind in moments like this. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and tries to focus on his own charts when Robby walks by.
"Dr. King, would you knock that the fuck off? What, it's not loud enough in here without you adding to it?!" he scolds.
Mel is shocked. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't notice. I'll just, um." She fiddles with the stethoscope around her neck, and Whitaker can see tears welling in her eyes as she heads for a quiet stairwell.
Okay, Whitaker decides. That crossed a line.
He's still not used to being assertive with Dr. Robby, having allowed parts of their workplace power dynamic to extend into their private interactions as well. But he's irritated - nerves already wired from the snit Robby's put the entire ED in, and yeah, maybe a little bit from Mel's humming, too.
Whitaker gets up to walk alongside Robby, and grabs him around the upper arm, holding a bit too hard and steering them towards the ambulance bay.
"Come on. You need some fresh air and a break."
"I absolutely do not," Robby resists. "I've got a dozen fucking things to do, I don't have time to step out and twiddle my fucking thumbs and let more pile up."
Whitaker stops them both in a quieter area near the Pedes room. It isn't lost on him that this is where he last found Robby at breaking point.
"You're not being much help to anyone like this," Whitaker hisses, then cringes. Too harsh. "I mean, you're always... helpful, but you're putting everyone on edge. We can't do our best work when we're all walking on eggshells trying not to be the next punching bag."
Robby pulls his arm away from Whitaker and runs his hands over his face. When he brings them back down, he's looking at Dennis with those big sad eyes.
"You'd never be my punching bag... I don't- I can't-"
His breaths get quicker and shallower, and he's struggling to get works out. A nurse walks by and does a double take, meeting Whitaker's gaze before scurrying away. Dennis puts a flat hand against Robby's upper back and guides him into a storage closet, locking the door behind him.
He rubs circles on Robby's back. "Hey, hey. I know it's tough. You had a rough morning." he soothes. "But like, I know you know Mel sometimes needs to do her stimming. It's not fair to her to make her self-conscious about it. And it's like, uh, accessibility in the workplace stuff, you have to accommodate for that."
Robby takes a big breath out. He's calming down.
"I know," he mutters quietly. "I'll apologize."
"It's not-" Whitaker doesn't know if he's pushing too far, if he should just accept this concession from Robby. "It's not just her. Can we get this day turned around?"
Robby looks down at his feet. He can't meet Dennis's gaze.
"I can understand if I- if I'm too much. If you hate me now." His breathing's shallowing out again. "Or if you just want to be... professional. I can try to... put it in the past and just be. Just be your atten-"
"Hey," Whitaker interrupts, "Is that what you want? Because it's not what I want. This isn't a dealbreaker. It's just a moment we have to deal with."
He moves to face Robby straight on, meeting his gaze. He tilts his head up and places a soft kiss on Robby's mouth.
Robby deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dennis's waist and pulling him in close.
When they break for air, Dennis finds the answer to his question from a moment ago.
"Let's get this day turned around," he says, trying for more sultry this time, as he drops to his knees.
Robby's already half-hard by the time Dennis has loosened the drawstring on his scrub pants and tugged his attending's pants-and-briefs together down to his thighs, just low enough to expose his thickening cock.
Whitaker knows they have to be quick - Robby wasn't wrong, earlier, when he said they had plenty to be needed for, and it wouldn't be long before someone came looking. He presses sloppy, wet kisses to Robby's exposed thighs before his attending lets out keening whine and grabs a fistful of Dennis's hair with one hand, wraps the other around the base of his cock, and guides himself down the younger man's throat.
Suddenly, it's fast and rough, and Dennis can feel his face flushing as he bobs his head rhythmically to meet Robby's bucking thrusts. The older man's hand is still keeping a firm grip on his hair, and he tries to focus on not choking - just sucking, relaxing his throat, and breathing in, breathing out through his nose.
Fuck, Whitaker thinks, he should boss around Robby more often if it pays off like this, getting shown who's in charge as his boss fucks his face with wild abandon. He's so turned on, he wonders if he'll have a chance to get off, too. He moans around Robby's cock.
Robby fists Whitaker's hair with both hands and pulls him in deep as he comes down his throat, salty tang coating the younger man's tongue, and as if on cue, the door handle jiggles as someone outside tries to turn it.
They both scramble up, catching their breath, and Robby takes a big step back and hits his back against one of the metal storage racks.
"Shit," he mutters. "But uh, thank you. A lot. I'll catch up with you later? And I'll find Mel and apologize."
"Thanks," Dennis says, and then Robby is out the door. Whitaker figures he'll take a moment, catch his breath, and follow suit.
There's voices from behind the door, and then it swings open again and a startled Victoria Javadi shrieks and jumps when she sees him.
He makes up an excuse about trying to calm down Robby with deep breathing exercises and a moment of quiet - not strictly untrue, he assures himself when he feels guilty over the rest of his calming tactics. But Javadi seems to take him at his word, so he ducks out of the room before she can dig too deep about it.
---
"Hey, thanks for the warning about Javadi walking in on me earlier," Dennis sarcastically quips a bit later when he catches a silent moment with Dr. Robby. He's mostly over the temporary embarassment already - she hadn't seemed to catch on to what had been happening moments prior. Robby's reign of terror has thankfully ended, and everyone is breathing a little easier.
"Sorry, I tried to say her name loudly - I guess those doors are pretty soundproof, at least?" Robby replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his own neck.
"Yeah, I guess there's that."
---
It's two days later and Dennis is relaxing at home after a long shift, just settling in to zoning out to some terrible reality television and stir-fry from Santos's big meal-prep on her day off, when Robby sends him a link to a TikTok video, along the message, "I think we're in the clear."
The thumbnail is Javadi, talking to the camera in front of a blank wall. Dennis clicks it.
He breathes a sigh of relief. She seems to have bought his quick excuse - been moved by it, even.
Then he clicks through to the comments. He squints at the oddly familiar face in a teeny profile picture before throwing his phone down on the couch and shouting to his roommate in her bedroom.
"Trinity!! You have to delete that!"
He hears giggles as Santos pokes her head out the door.
"You sound stressed, Huckleberry," she says with a cheeky grin. "Maybe you need to do some more breathing exercises with our boss. Or on your own. Just keep in down if you do it in your room, these walls are thin."
He tosses one of the throw cushions from the couch half-heartedly in her direction, but she disappears back behind her once-again-closed door.
He sighs.
Maybe he'll take that advice.