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Robby tries not to pace, even though there’s a desperate urge surging up inside of him to walk up and down the length of the lounge he’s been stuck in to wait it out.
He knows deep down it’ll do no good - patience is a virtue, as they say – but Robby fucking hates that phrase.
Ruptured appendix needing an emergency appendectomy.
It had been gradual at first. Pain in his lower abdomen, appearing at half six in the morning, which Dennis had brushed aside as nothing more than a minor stomach ache, telling him not to fuss. It’ll go away on its own; maybe he just needed to use the toilet, he had told him. Robby curses his past self now for not pushing harder on the subject, for letting Dennis make him believe it was something and nothing, something that would fade away.
The situation only worsened throughout the day.
Robby observed him throughout their shift, pasty white skin growing shallower, shoulders hunching in, a sweaty perspiration clinging to his forehead and temples. Every time he pulled him to one side in the lounge, at the nurses' station, even in the damn toilets for a one-to-one briefing with Dennis, he brushed it off.
“It’s nothing, I promise. Just didn’t eat lunch, I know – I know you’re on my ass about skipping meals, I just wasn’t hungry this morning. I brought that leftover pasta from last night. I promise I’ll eat it,” Dennis had reassured, lips discreetly pressing to the corner of his lip, so he sighed deeply, leaning into him, before the illusion shattered and they were dragged back into the Pitt.
Worry, however, lodged itself deep into his chest cavity, anxiety fluttering like a damn butterfly in the back of his mind when he watched him struggle for the rest of the shift — hours ticking by when, in between saving lives, he watched Dennis flounder, a flush of color appearing on both cheeks which could be blush or a fever, he didn’t know. It drove him crazy.
It all came to a head when he couldn’t find him close to the end of their shift. Robby had tugged on the stethoscope around his neck, eyes sweeping up and down his emergency department, searching for Dennis.
“Dana, have you seen Doctor Whitaker?” Robby called to her, ever professional, but he knew the worry was evident on his face when she took one look at him and gave him a sympathetic smile.
“I saw him heading to the bathroom about five minutes ago.”
Robby could have waited, given him his privacy, but something niggled at him, ancestral or instincts or something, but he felt the little hairs on his arms rise. He moved quickly, dodging out of the way of his staff for the bathroom, and he pushed inside.
Panic of the unknown really has a way of making you feel sick to the pit of your stomach. Similar to how he felt when he saw Dana walking through the doors with a broken nose and blood soaking the lower half of her face, or an emergency alert about an active shooter where his pseudo son was placed, or like now, when he sees his partner, the love of his stupid fucking life, passed out on the bathroom floor.
“I need a gurney now!” Robby had shouted, bathroom door whacking into the wall with an almighty bang when he flung it open to scream for help.
“Come on, sweetheart, please open your eyes for me,” Robby had begged, pleading, as he shone a light into his eyes for a response.
It had taken two male nurses, Jesse and Mateo, to tug and drag him away from Dennis. Conflict of interest, Dana had shouted urgently to him.
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit! Who cares about HR violations and conflicts of interest when the man he loves is passed out and unresponsive?
Robby had a dull ringing in both ears when he was forced to sit down, his eyes fixed on Dana, who spoke to him about his vitals, stability, emergency surgery, and the best residents working on him. However, he could barely register what she was telling him.
This was Dennis.
“I can’t lose him,” Robby had whispered, tears welling in his eyes, bottom lip trembling as he desperately tried to conceal how it felt like the world was screaming and crumbling around him.
“You’re not going to lose him,” Dana murmured, her hand warm, touching his cheek, trying to placate and reassure him. “Your boy is strong. You think a simple appendectomy is going to bring him down? We’ve got this. Stay here, drink our shitty coffee. I’ll update you when I have news. Do not start looking.”
So, this was what he was doing. He’s waiting, impatiently, his second coffee in his hand, when he stares at the clock hanging above the door. Appendectomy surgery takes typically one hour, depending on the severity of the rupture, the bacteria and waste that are released, and the time it takes to clear the abdominal cavity.
Robby is seriously contemplating getting some fresh air to somewhat clear his swimming and ringing head when the lounge door opens and Dana appears with a small, tired smile for him.
“This better be fucking good news.”
“I forget you’re sunshine and rainbows when you’re stressed. Of course it’s good fucking news. The surgery is over, Dennis is stable and in recovery, and even better news: you can visit him. I got special permission.”
“Try and fucking stop me,” he mumbles under his breath, discarding his now cold coffee to one side to head upstairs, and ignoring her tittering laughter behind him.
Robby despises more than anything that when he locates Dennis’ private hospital room, how small he looks amongst the wires and machines monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure. It makes him feel sick.
“I don’t need to remind you, but he’ll be a bit disoriented when he comes to. His blood sugar is quite low, so if you can encourage him to drink some apple juice or even try a biscuit, it’ll do me a massive favor,” Garcia tells him, holding up a plastic packet between two fingers before he snatches it. “Lose the sour look, Doctor Robby. He’s going to be fine. Two to three weeks of recovery and we’ll be back to the grossest romcom in the Pitts…”
She shoots him a small smile before leaving him to it, and he sighs deeply, his head bowing to the floor, before he moves to sit on the uncomfortable hospital chair. Dennis breathes evenly and deeply; there’s a bit of color back in his cheeks, but it does nothing to comfort him when he takes his hand in his.
“I don’t even know if you can hear me, you and I both know the data is inconclusive, but baby…you scared the shit out of me,” Robby murmurs, a broken laugh spilling out as he shakes his head, thumb rubbing over the smoothness of Dennis’ finger where his wedding band should be. It’ll be in his locker for safekeeping; his is currently around his neck on a silver chain, never far from him, and a constant reminder.
It keeps him going.
He keeps him going.
The beat of his very heart, the oxygen in his lungs, the only reason to get up in the morning when the skies are dull and gloomy, and all he wants to do is roll over and tuck Dennis close to him. To breathe in the fruitiness of his apple shampoo, to feel the warmth of him against the front of his chest, to feel the air tickling the little hairs there, to feel safe, wanted, and loved. To feel needed and held in return by him.
Robby never wants to lose that, not after seeking it for so long and finally finding it in a student medical doctor three years ago.
If he went back in time, his past self would have looked at him like the whole idea was fucking ridiculous. The inappropriateness of it, the violations, the age gap, all of it would have led to him scoffing and dismissing it. But all it took was a chance, just one chance – an invitation for a drink after work – and a hesitation which turned into a nod and a beaming smile in return.
Dennis groans, tugging a little at his hand, head twisting to the side when his closed eyes screw up, and Robby exhales a deep sigh of relief.
“Hey, sweetheart, can you hear me?”
“Where ‘m I?” Dennis mumbles.
“Pittsburgh Medical Center, your appendix burst. You needed emergency surgery. Can you open your eyes for me? Let me see those gorgeous blues?”
Dennis’ eyebrows and nose scrunch up adorably, like the mere idea is absurd, and Robby can’t help but smile, the first in hours, and he tightens his hand around his. He waits patiently, watching as his eyes slowly open, leisurely blinking as he adjusts, and mumbles about feeling really sick.
“I know, baby, I know, do you want to try and drink some apple juice. Look, it’s even got a straw, how helpful,” he mutters, letting go of his hand to rip open the plastic packaging and to pop it into the small container.
Dennis takes it, letting him help him take a small sip, lips smacking together, before he tugs his face away and wrinkles his nose.
“Nasty…”
“I know.”
Dennis rolls his head towards him, squinting up at him. “Who’re you?”
Robby raises his eyebrows slowly. “You don’t recognize me?”
“Did – did the doctor send you? You, wow, you’re really hot,” Dennis murmurs, looking him up and down, the juice box tilting in his hand, so he reaches to steady it and encourages him through an amused smile to drink. He’s definitely disoriented.
“Gorgeous,” Dennis slurs, blinking rapidly. “Like, y’know, those hot professors. Salt and pepper hotties who’ll spank you for turning in a late essay…”
Robby can feel his cheeks filling with heat, and he muffles a laugh behind his hand, coughing to clear his throat.
“Are you a model?”
“I’m not a model.”
“You–you should be, you’re so pretty, I–I like your beard, it’s great, it’s fantastic, fuck me, you’re so hot,” Dennis murmurs, eyes locked on his when he tries to reach a hand towards him, and Robby laughs, kissing his fingertips, and encourages him to sip at his apple juice.
“You kissed my fingers,” Dennis whispers in shocked wonder. “Who’re you? What’s your name?”
“You can call me Robby, and I’m your husband.”
Dennis gasps, head reeling back when he stares at him in shock. “You’re my husband?”
“Yup.”
“Shut the fuck up…” Dennis murmurs, blinking and looking around the room like he expects a camera crew to burst in and scream ‘GOTCHA!’ at the top of their lungs. “Seriously? You’re mine? All mine?”
The disbelief makes the situation even funnier, and he snorts a hard laugh through his nose before nodding.
“Yes. I’m your husband and you’re mine.”
“How – how long?”
“Just over a year and a half.”
“That’s long!” Dennis emphasizes softly. “Have we kissed? Wait, wait, have we had sex?”
“Okay, keep drinking this for me, you’re slowly waking up after your surgery. You’re a little out of it, but I’ll be here the whole time,” Robby mutters around the smile that refuses to fade at how adorable and disoriented he is right now. He kind of wishes he had recorded it; he’s one hundred percent certain that Santos would love this blackmail material.
“Fuck,” Dennis whispers, eyes wide and doe-like as they stare up at him. “I hit the jackpot!”
“You think so?” Robby smiles at him softly. “To be honest, I think you stole my line.”
“No, no, no stealing, just – I seriously married you? Me?”
“You did, baby.”
“Oh,” Dennis gasps, head turning sharply towards him. “I like it when you call me that.”
“I know you do.”
Dennis sighs deeply, eyes fluttering closed, hand going a little slack with the juice box he’s attempting to drink from, and Robby rolls his eyes when some of the liquid splashes on the sheets.
“So handsome…luckiest guy on the planet…I mean, what the fuck…was I blessed? How fucking hard did I pray?” Dennis mumbles to himself, and Robby bows his head to chuckle, hand rubbing at his eyes in embarrassed amusement.
“Wait, where’s my ring?” Dennis mumbles, holding up his hand, distress clouding his face.
“Safe, it’s safe, I promise. You’ll get it back soon, but look, here’s mine,” Robby explains, pulling it out from under his shirt, the light glinting off the gold. Dennis gasps dramatically, fingertips reaching towards it, and he lets him stroke it.
“We’re seriously married?”
“We’re married.”
“Never, ever, ever, need to play the lottery, never, I already won,” Dennis sings songs, drooping a little when his eyes close, and he wrinkles his nose. “I feel sleepy…”
“You can go back to sleep, it’s okay,” Robby reassures, taking the juice box away from him to place on the side.
“Don’t leave, please don’t leave me,” Dennis mumbles, panicked, desperate eyes seeking his, and he leans forward, grasping his hand and raises it to press a gentle kiss against the back of it.
“Never. I promise, I’ll be here when you wake up, baby. You can go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will feel a lot clearer.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“You-you love me?” Dennis whispers, eyes filling with tears, and Robby nods before reaching up to press a featherlight kiss against his forehead, hand cupping and stroking his cheek softly.
“Always and forever,” Robby murmurs, thumb continuing to stroke the softness of his skin, watching as he slowly drifts off, slumping back into the pillow.
He’ll be out for a couple of hours, Robby knows that, and he reaches to lift the chain from around his neck, slipping the ring off and back on his finger. It fits snugly, warmth spreading up his arm. He glances up at Dennis’ slack face and sits back into the chair, gratefulness wrapping a steady hand around his heart when he listens to his soft breathing, knowing that he’s going to be okay and Robby will have one hell of a story to tell him when he wakes up.