Chapter Text
You and your roommates are nosy.
Now, is this a particularly favorable trait? No. Not really.
Did it make your life a lot more fun? Oh, absolutely.
It was routine. Every day, as soon as you, Trin, and Dennis were away from work—sometimes as soon as the commute home —the day's happenings were hastily passed around and dissected. Not professional, no, but you three worked so hard, you deserved to talk some shit. Or, maybe, do an (admittedly stalkerish) deep dive on your attendings. A move, only a bottle of Smirnoff passed between you and your roommates would give you the balls to do.
“Dude,” Trinity paused to take a spoonful of her freshly delivered soup. God bless Panera. With a gulp, she continued.
“Robby is like, emotionally constipated. If he can't handle an ‘I love you,’ from his.. Dude-bro, he can’t tell his coworkers about their kinky homoerotic friendship. ” Trinity finished with far too serious a conviction for the topic at hand—old man yaoi— with your very real attendings.
Whitaker, even after this ever-so-convincing argument, remains indifferent to your and Trinity's prying conversation.
“If they don’t want to share, I don't see how it concerns either of you.” Now he wants to act high and mighty. Whatever, Dennis.
“You’re so lame.” Trinity began to shift up on the couch, clutching the bottle and her phone in one hand, stumbling up. You understood what was to come- Trinity alone with alcohol and access to a phone was a disaster waiting to strike.
“Trinity.” You sat up from your spot on the floor, trying (and failing) to steal something from her hands. She knew this was stupid, yet it wasn't enough, as she was too dumb to fight her fingers, dooming her to call Garcia. She pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear, taking an (honestly disgustingly large) gulp of vodka. Greedy ass.
“Hey, uh- loosen up your boyfriend,” she hiccuped. “Or, tell him to loosen up. Whatever.” She gestured to you without a single acknowledgment of Dennis right beside you, spinning on her heel before Whitaker could even manage a small
“Gross.” Trinity’s door closed behind her- the soft click! of the lock sealing her fate.
“Garcia?”
“Trinity? TRINITY.” You were able to silence poor, empathetic Whitaker with a squeeze to the shoulder.
“Maybe this time she’ll learn.” You spoke softly, letting your head fall into his lap.
“Yeah, well, not much else we can do, eh?”
“… she took that whole bottle. What are we, teenagers?”
“Shipping two men pushing 50 is pretty teenage-like if you ask me.”
“Shut up. You don’t get it.”
“I do, though.”
You sat up, twisting to face him. His face was completely flushed, drained of any color, and wearing an entirely mortified expression.
“What does that mean?” You scoffed, slouching against the arm of the couch and continuing your whining. “You- you just put on that goody-two-shoes act-”
“It means I’ve thought about it before-and-and, I think about them, like, living through the AIDS crisis together. I don’t know.” The poor boy was unable to keep eye contact with you. The sight made you fall forwards, straight into a fit of giggles.
“Don't laugh; it’s sad!” He grabbed the back of your shirt collar, pulling you out of your face-down position in his lap. In an attempt to stifle your laughs, Dennis pressed a hand to your mouth. You bit his palm.
“Look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wheezing through words, you took a deep inhale, bringing some air back into your body. Whitaker shook his hand away from your mouth.
“but you can’t deny that isn’t the weirdest thought to have about two of your bosses, that just might be together.”
“...” Whitaker was, now, far too embarrassed to continue what he had started. It was truly a pathetic sight, and you couldn’t help but immediately take pity on him. With a final gasp of air, you tried to relieve your poor boyfriend of some of his pain.
“Look, I’ve thought things a lot worse than your doomed yaoi. Chill, dude.” You raised a hand to his face and swiped some of his hair back, watching some color return to his face.
“I think I need to sleep that off.” Letting out a much-needed laugh and a soft phew!, Dennis pushes off the ground, offering you his hand as he stands. But before he can lead you two off to bed, your ever-so-caring boyfriend makes sure to grab two waters and ibuprofen to combat your impending hangovers. And in the soft glow of the kitchen, Dennis’ face illuminated by the overhead lights– you can’t help but realize that his brain never truly leaves the ER. Constantly caring and checking in on those around them entirely unasked. Tapping two fingers to your mouth, Dennis gently commands,
“Open.” You take the pill onto your tongue with ease, gulping it down with a sip of water, making sure to never leave his eyes. It clearly does not go unnoticed by Dennis, as he delivers a smack to the back of your head.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, doctor.”
That’s what sets him off– not before he can make sure to place his glass of water on the counter– causing him to put your head in a firm lock with his bicep, pulling your head down into his chest.
As is, this was already frustratingly sexy. Heightened by his underlying effort to be gentle.
But, alas, after a shift that could drive any normal person into insanity, your sex drive could not prevail, and bed sounded more appealing than anything.
“Sorry, sorry.” Your laughs are muffled into his flexed arm, and you can’t help but nip at his skin for the second time that night.
After a rather drunken fight and a final, forfeiting kiss to the temple, you two finally pad your way to bed. Even closed in your shared space, Trinity's babbles in her Garcia-filled world echoed through the halls. You two drowned it out, instead basking in the serenity of each other's presence.
It wasn’t until you were on the verge of sleep and sprawled out on top of him that he spoke, giving you a soft jolt.
“I really do wonder,”
“Mm?” You barely raised your head to look up at him.
“About Robby and Abbot.”
“Mm.” Your face fell back into his arm, eyes relaxing back to being shut.
“We really need to find their Facebook or something, right?”
“Mhm.” was the last thing you remember before you finally drifted off.
You can unpack that conversation in the morning.