Chapter Text
It didn’t matter how long Dennis had been doing that; the feeling was the same. Entering the hospital, he always felt this sort of buzz under his skin. Apprehension, for the day to come, for every patient that might go south, for hos his decision making might affect the people around him, colleagues and patients alike. But mostly, the buzz came from excitement. For what he would do, for how the day would turn out, for how he was to learn, for how he would be spending his day with some of his favorite people, for how much he thrived in the emergency room.
His college roommates had all laughed at him when he had told them he was going to do his ER rotation next. They had all wished him the best of luck. None of them had believed that he was cut out for it. Dennis hadn’t thought he had been, either. Somehow, what made him change his mind had been Pittfest. It was the worst first day, even before the mass casualty happened. Yet it had been the most alive he had felt, ever. It had made everything worth it. Running away from home, lying to his family, being unhoused for longer than he’d admit, even to Trinity, surviving through med school and all his rotations.
He had joined the street team and would spend his days either at work or helping out Amy on the farm. Dennis had found purpose here.
Arriving at the hospital for the second time that day, though, it wasn’t the same kind of buzzing that was coursing through his veins. Not apprehension, not excitement, not knowledge that he was pursuing his purpose. No, instead, what he was feeling was nervous. Plain old, plain stupid nervous, like some sort of teenager on a first date.
Not that this is what it was. It wasn’t a date. Dennis and Robby needed to talk about whatever happened when the older man was on his sabbatical. It wouldn’t lead to anything. Dennis had promised himself.
Still, the buzz was hard to ignore as he had prepared himself. Changed to nicer clothes. Took extra care of his hair. Now that he had been given an umbrella, he wouldn’t end up with a mop of frizzy and messy hair. He had checked himself one last time in the mirror, rolling his eyes at himself. He was wearing the brown sweater Trinity had forced upon him, alongside a nice pair of black pants. He wouldn’t think too much about how this pair of pants was the nicest he owned.
He arrives at the hospital at eight sharp, right when Robby had told him he would be done with the handoff. Jack was on tonight. Dennis owes him an apology, but he also knows now is not the time. He also doesn’t want anyone from the day shift seeing him barge in today uninvited, again.
The phone in his pocket rings. He hides his disappointment behind a cough when he realizes that the person texting him wasn’t Robby. He needed to get a grip. It had only been Trinity, letting him know of her nightly plans, hoping for him that his headphones were charged. He can’t fight the groan that escapes his throat, quickly typing an answer to his roommate. He loves her, he truly does. He also needs to find himself a place on his own. Quickly.
In front of him, there’s a delighted chuckle. It startles him enough that he feels himself jump, right hand clutching at his chest. This reaction, obviously, makes Robby laugh harder.
“It’s only me, Whitaker. No need to look so scared.” He stops in front of Dennis. Merely a few steps away. Dennis could easily close the distance. Not that he would. He has no reason to.
“Then maybe don’t sneak up on people,” Dennis hisses back, forcing his heartbeat to slow the fuck down.
Robby is only staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s looking intensely at Dennis, taking up every centimeter of his appearance. Dennis feels a lot like a laboratory rat, right now. He finds that he doesn’t mind too much if it implies Robby’s doe eyes.
So much for making this meeting something normal. Dennis is screwed.
“So, where do you want to go?” Dennis ends up asking, rocking a little from one fit to another, hoping the movement would stop Robby from scrutinizing every detail of Dennis.
It seems to work, as Robby’s eyes go back to looking at his face. “Did you eat tonight?”
Of course, because the universe loved to make a fool out of Dennis, his stomach grumbled, low and terrifyingly loud. He hadn’t, in fact, eaten. Not since the makeshift breakfast he had swallowed down this morning. It wasn’t that he had meant not to eat. But Trinity’s car broke, so he had to be fast, and by the time he made it back home, the only thing he wanted to do was take a shower. When his laptop had been glaring at him, and when the guilt of putting his studying aside ate him a little too much, he had sat down.
“Okay, dinner it is.” Robby grins at him. It wasn’t mocking or patronizing. From the looks of it, it appeared as if the attending only found the situation amusing. “There’s a nice dinner place about half an hour from here.” He tells him, walking towards a motorcycle Dennis wishes he didn’t recognize.
“Are you joking?” He finds himself asking, his tone full of disbelief.
Robby turns towards him, his face now frowning. “No? It is a nice place. But if you’d rather go somewhere else, we can.”
Dennis looks at him a second longer, quirking an eyebrow at the other man. Eventually, he shakes his head, brain slowly catching up. “No. The place is fine. I’m not going on your death-machine.”
Robby’s expression turns sour for a second before he lets out a sigh. “It’s fine, Whitaker. If it made it all the way to Alberta and back, it can take us through Pittsburgh.”
He had to admit it to himself; Dennis found it horrendously hot, knowing that Robby drove a motorcycle. However, he also found it extremely stupid, considering the amount of motorcycle accidents they got each day. Dennis found himself sort of glad, despite everything, that Robby wasn’t one of these guys referring to their vehicles as if they were a real person, or worse, a woman.
“You’re insane if you think I condone this.” Dennis only says, side-eyeing the bike.
“I thought you said it was cool?” Robby asks, and Dennis finds that he sounds painfully betrayed. Not amused, not teasing, honest, raw. Like how he sounded on some of these calls throughout the summer. When Robby had told him about Jake and Adamson.
“I lied,” Dennis replies as if it’s evident. It’s not. It’s also not entirely the truth. He did find it cool. It was a cool bike. But Dennis had standards and pride.
“Dr. Abbot finds it cool,” Robby huffs, and if Dennis didn’t know better, he would have thought his attending was pouting. He wasn’t. He was only trying to make his point.
Dennis lets out a snort. “Of course. It’s Jack.” He says it like it’s obvious. Because it is. It’s Jack Abbot. Adrenaline junkie. Also Robby’s best friend for probably longer than Dennis had even been alive. Of course, Jack would find it cool.
Robby doesn’t reply to that, only makes his way to the bike, unclipping the helmet from his backpack. He throws it at Dennis before sitting down on the bike. The latter frowns, putting the helmet on his head. So much for keeping his curls intact.
“What about you?” Dennis asks as he climbs in the back, holding his hands firmly on the handles on each side. It was bad enough that his thighs were flushed against Robby’s hips. He didn’t need to cling to his waist either.
Robby throws him a smile that Dennis tries very hard not to read. He knows what it means. The helmet is mostly decorative. Like a very heavy, very imposing bag charm.
Any replies that form at the tip of his tongue get instantly drowned by the sound of the motorcycle roaring to life. Before Dennis can process much more, the vehicle is moving, faster than he had expected and he’s clutching the sides of the bike with a stronger force than his body should allow. His thighs are also putting a lot more force, trying hard not to fall. Distantly, it reminds him of the rodeo bulls machine back home. He used to be insanely good at it. There was a fair every week at the village next to theirs. If they had been good enough, at the farm, with their grandparents, at church, their parents would take them there and pay for a ride of rodeo each. None of his brothers were as good as he was. He wondered if he could find a place like that in Pittsburgh. It would be nice to take the girls there, have a fun night out.
True to Robby’s word, it wasn’t long before they reached the dinner place. It wasn’t truly fancy, which, after a shift, Dennis was sure his attending was grateful for. Something casual. It also wasn’t a date. No need for anything truly fancy.
They sat in a corner booth, the buzzing lights of the city glaring at them. It felt nice, somehow. Cozy and warm seemed to be good words to describe the place. A waitress with a tag name he couldn’t read approached them, sending them a warm, polite smile. Her eyes widened when her eyes fell on Robby, smile turning soft for a second.
“If it isn’t our favorite doctor.” Her tongue clicks at the end of the sentence. She hands Dennis a menu, keeping the second one close to her chest.
“Hello, Rosie.” Robby simply replies, a small smile on his face. It looked different from the way he smiled at the patients. It was less polite, more earnest. Yet, it was also different from the way he smiled to Dana, or even Jack. Then, it’s more familiar, private.
“And who is this sweet guy that you brought today?” She asks, turning towards Dennis. She’s a pretty woman. If Dennis was attracted to women, maybe he would have found her attractive. She’s tall, probably more than him, brown hair falling on her shoulders with bangs framing her face, and deep brown, round eyes, looking at him with something akin to teasing in them.
“This is Dr. Whitaker. One of my residents.” Robby fills in for him, shooting him a tight, reassuring smile. It’s not too far from the one he used to shoot across a trauma room to still Dennis’ nerves, give him the boost of confidence he needed. It had been a long time since they had worked together. Even longer since he had been on the receiving end of one of these looks. It feels odd, sends a warm feeling down his chest. He tries to discard it as nostalgia. He simply misses working with Robby. No offense to Jack. Or Al-Hashimi. Or Shen. Or other attending or resident. He just misses Robby. That’s normal. They grew used to each other.
“Ah,” The waitress says, nodding her head. “So end of shift dinner?”
“Sort of.” Robby says, shooting him a quick glance. “I’ll just take my usual. Thank you, Rosie.”
She nods, only now taking her little notepad out of her pocket. Dennis notices, though, that she doesn’t write anything down, only turns to look at him, raising her eyebrow. He didn’t have time to look at the menu. Or maybe he did, but he had been too invested in the conversation and his own deep thoughts to pay attention to what they had to offer. Instead of opening the menu, he trips over his words, waves around to Robby, and orders the same thing, whatever that might be.
Rosie looks between the two of them, squints her eyes, and nods, turning back towards the kitchen. Dennis looks over at Robby, who’s already watching him.
“You don’t even know what I ordered,” The oldest says, a glint in his eyes. He seems amused, and if Dennis was looking more into it, he looked almost fond.
At his words, Dennis only shrugs, breaking eye contact. “You seem to come here often. I trust your judgment.”
Much more than just his judgment, he had to admit. He trusts him. As a whole. As much as one can trust someone.
“Dennis.” Robby breathes out. It comes out as a whisper. He lets out a sigh, heads dropping down, staring down at his hands. They’re clasped together on top of the table, with enough force that his knuckles are turning white. It takes everything in Dennis not to reach out and ease the tension.
“You don’t have to,” Dennis whispers back. It’s mostly a mechanism. He only wants to diffuse the awkwardness that settled between them. He needs to hear it. He needs to know what Robby has to say, what is so hard to let out.
“I really do.” Robby lets out in a breathy laugh. For a moment, Dennis is scared of what he would say. “You deserve to know, Den. It’s not fair to you.” Dennis’ brows furrow at this. Not confused, only assertive, assessing the situation, his tone, the shift in his shoulders.
Before he gets to reply, or before Robby gets to continue his train of thought, Rosie is back, balancing two plates of pasta along with two beers. Blonde, and definitely more than Robby should be drinking if he is to drive them on his bike after. Dennis says nothing, only eyes what he thinks is tortellini bathing in a little too much cream sauce.
“Guten Appetit, boys.” Rosie says with a wicked smile, leaving them be just as soon. Dennis doesn’t know if she’s German or if she just says it as a joke. It doesn’t really matter. His stomach is rumbling again, and he doesn’t think much more before he lunches on his plate. If he weren’t so hungry, he would be mindful of his table manners. He isn’t. And pardon his language, but goddamn this is good. He voices his thoughts in between bites.
Robby lets out a laugh, delighted and relaxed. “Yeah, it is incredibly delicious. Not as good as in the real place, but it’s the closest I’ve found here.”
At this, Dennis looks up at him, puzzled. “You’ve been to Italy?”
In front of him, the older man nods his head, taking a swing of his beer. “Went with Jack. Ten? Fifteen years ago?”
Dennis stops when he hears this. Damn. Ten years ago, he was in high school. Fifteen years ago, he hadn’t even hit puberty. He doesn’t say any of this. Instead, he just says, “I forgot how old you two are.”
Robby grimaces at him. “Please, don’t mention it.” He sounds almost begging. “But yeah. It was work-related. An international conference. Fully paid by the hospital. Jack and I took it more as free vacations than a work trip. None of us was important enough in the hospital yet to truly matter. He was a little more than me. You know Jack. He doesn’t care about these types of things.”
“But you do.” Dennis says, his mouth closing again around his fork. Robby studies him for a second. When he seems to make up his mind on his next words, he sighs.
“I don’t understand how you can read me.” He says, piercing brown eyes digging holes into Dennis’ head.
The resident doesn’t back down, only looks back at him, holding eye contact. “You’re not exactly hard to read.” He doesn’t mean to sound so nonchalant about it, so bored.
“You make it sound easy.”
This time, Dennis shrugs, grabbing his beer. He needs to slow down his bites, or he will have a stomachache later. “It is.”
They let the words wash over them for a moment, none breaking the silence over the scratching of forks on plates and glasses on tables. It’s only when Dennis finishes his plate that Robby speaks again.
“I’m sorry about this summer.” His hands are under the table now, but Dennis could bet that he was in the same position he was earlier. “I should have told you that I wasn’t talking to anyone else. To be honest, I shouldn’t even have given you my number. It’s inappropriate and unethical.”
“I’m glad you-”
“I’m not done.” Robby interrupts him. Dennis has a feeling that it’s the only way Robby has to actually get everything out. “I’m not sorry that I gave you my number. I’m not sorry that you reached out, and I’m not sorry that it became… whatever it was. Truth is, the first time you called, you said that I was bored. You were right. I was terribly bored. Alone was good. I needed it. I needed to figure out who I was outside of the Pitt. Outside of this city. Outside of Dr. Robby. I did, in a way.
Except I found myself longing for something else. I was looking forward to every text you’d send me. Every call. It made me feel a little dumb. I’m too old for this. For… feeling like this. I missed you, Dennis. Every day out there, every landscape I’d see, every wild animal, every night, I missed you. So when you called me a few weeks ago, I felt like it all hit me back in the face. I realized that it wasn’t fair to you. I’m your boss. Your mentor. I’m more than twenty years older than you.”
Dennis snorts at this, cutting Robby off immediately in his rant. Robby is frowning at him, disapprovingly. Dennis rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re not exactly known for dating women your age, or people who aren’t your direct subordinate.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Dr. Collins.”
“How do you even know about that?”
“People talk, Robby.”
Robby’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a sigh. “Heather wasn’t that much younger than me. Not as young as you.”
Dennis pursed his lips, looking at Robby. He didn’t know where to go from there. Robby’s voice still rang in his head. I missed you. He really had, if his words were as truthful as he said, which Dennis had no doubt.
“I missed you, too.” He settles on. Robby’s face turns surprised. “Come on, Robby. You can’t be this dense. You’re worse than me. I was waiting for any case that felt slightly out of my range to send them to you. Hell, I’ve been actively breaking the oath I took when I graduated by sending you medical information about patients by text messages. Which, by the way, I knew the answer to more than half of them. I just wanted to talk to you in a way that didn’t feel like I was breaking any boundaries. I wanted to get your attention. I always have. I still do.”
“You have it,” Robby replies in an instant, his expression so open, so vulnerable. Asking, begging Dennis to understand what he meant. What he wanted.
“Say it,” Dennis asks, his foot under the table, hitting the shoes Robby was wearing.
“This is wrong.”
“Say it.”
“Dennis.”
“Michael.” At this, the attending let out a curse under his breath. His knee jerks under the table, making contact with Dennis’ shoe. In all honesty, it would be enough for Dennis. That was an answer on its own. Still, Trinity had mentioned that Dennis could be a stubborn son of a bitch. He wouldn’t back down.
“I want this,” Robby says, eyes darting to the side for a second.
“What is this?”
“You,” Robby lets out, sounding frustrated, almost as if he was having an inner fight, more dangerous than anything they’ve ever had to do in the ER. “Fuck, it’s you, Den. Has been for a while now. I want you.”
Dennis, for a second, felt like he was suffocating. Then, his entire blood had quickly made its way south. Then, that if he didn’t get out of this place right now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself for much longer. Instead, he only said, with all the firmness he could muster, “Let’s get out of here.”
Robby nods at him, standing. There’s a tremor in his hands that he seems to try to control, keep at bay. It isn’t really working.
Rosie bids them farewell, gaze lingering on Robby for a second longer, something between a frown and pride brightening her face.
On the way back, Dennis isn’t holding the handles of the motorcycle. Instead, his chest is flushed against Robby’s back, both arms holding him tighter than strictly necessary. He can feel Robby’s chest rising a little faster than it should. Dennis moves his right hand up Robby’s torso, settling over the older man’s heart. He can’t feel the heartbeat. Between the layers of clothes and the roaring of the motor. It doesn’t matter. It all feels the same. His own heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He has a hard time wrapping his mind around what happened. What is currently happening.
When Robby’s right hand falls on his thigh, comfortable, like it belongs there, Dennis lets his eyes close, the helmet falls on the older man’s shoulder, basking in the heat, and the familiar smell of the man he’s been wanting for longer than he knew what desire truly meant.