Work Text:
Dennis loved Christmas growing up. He loved the lights, the special church services, the chaos of their home packed with people, crumpled wrapping paper, the constant stream of A Christmas Story on the television, helping his mom and grandma clean and cook and pretending not to listen to the gossip. It was the one time a year where being the “runt” of the family, as his brothers called him, wasn’t so bad because it fell against the backdrop of pretty lights, bold colors, new toys, indoor chores for once, and midwest food staples.
Now, of course, Christmas was much different.
He hadn’t really celebrated the holiday much at all since leaving Broken Bow. How could he? Flying home was out of the question, so Dennis would usually attend a local service and duck out before anyone could trap him in an attempt to come back next week. Dennis had truly become a “Chreaster” and even that was pushing it. His night would usually end wherever he was able to crash at that time, he would watch A Christmas Story, only once cause it really wasn’t that good but it was the one bit of home he could attain out in Pittsburgh, and scroll on his phone to avoid thinking until sleep overtook him.
Which led to this year, several months officially into his intern year with the PTMC, Dennis was one of the first to sign up for the Christmas Eve shift, it wasn’t like he had family to celebrate with anyway.
Trinity had invited him to her family’s get-together, insisted actually, but aside from the certainty of discomfort, he didn’t want to take the day away from anyone who actually had something to celebrate and people to celebrate with. So while Trinity is getting ready to make the hours-long drive back to her mom’s, Dennis is getting ready for his shift and is trying not to feel sad about it. He’s brushing his teeth when he hears a wrap on the door to his bedroom, followed by his roommate's voice.
“Offer still stands, Huckleberry. You can have all the lumpia you can handle and I won’t even make you play charades. I suck at it anyway.” Trinity says, the closest to begging he’s sure he’ll ever see from her.
“Sorry Trin,” Dennis garbles around the toothpaste in his mouth, peeking through the doorframe of his bathroom to face Trinity, leaning against his bedroom door, arms crossed almost petulantly. It’s endearing, really. “I’m on shift today, can’t back out now.”
Trinity huffs, throwing her head back and stomps back to her room to finish packing, “You’re the worst!” she calls out and Dennis can’t help but chuckle as he continues to brush his teeth.
Thankfully, Trinity still agreed to give him a ride to work before heading out. Dennis helps her carry her bags to the car and they make their way towards the ED.
“I should’ve just taken the Christmas shift. Think it’s too late?” Trinity asks as they pull out from their usual coffee drive-thru.
“I mean they'll take you for sure. Think your Lola would be very upset, though. You really want to do that to her?” Dennis presses his lips together in a line and gives Trinity a knowing look. Whatever issues she has with her mom, she loves her grandmother.
In response, Trinity just huffs a resigned sigh. “You’re gonna get some good cases today I bet, crazy stuff. I’m jealous.” She shoots him a smirk and he knows they’re on sure footing again.
“I’ll be sure to send you all the juicy details.” Dennis chuckles as they pull up to the hospital.
“You better!” She insists as he gathers his things and begins to exit the car. Dennis’ hand is on the door about to close it, “You are so coming out with me on New Years, though. You owe me.”
“Fine, fine.” Dennis laughs her off, “Be safe, okay? And Merry Christmas,” he adds gently.
Trinity’s expression softens slightly and she offers a small smile, “Will do. See you in a couple days. Merry Christmas, Den.”
And she’s off. Dennis readjusts his backpack, steels himself, and walks through the doors to the waiting room of the ED where there are already countless people spending their holiday in the last place they’d rather be.
“Merry Christmas, kid.” Dana embraces him as he enters the hub for the morning handoff after storing his things in his locker. She’s got dangly ornament earrings on and a pretty pin he’d wager is older than him. Her smile is genuine but tired and Dennis feels a pang of guilt that she has to be here instead of with her family.
“Merry Christmas, Dana. But come on, what are you doing here? They really making you work today?”
Dana huffs a laugh, “You know how it is, no rest for the wicked. ‘Sides, I got tomorrow off at least. How else are yous gonna get through Christmas Eve?”
“You got me there, we’re lost without you.”
“That you are, kid.” Dana pats his back, and leans in next to his ear “There’s cookies in the breakroom, go grab one before we get started.”
Dennis grins and nods in thanks, “I think I will, thank you Dana.” he squeezes her hand and heads off in the direction of the breakroom.
All things considered, the department has tried its best to have a festive feel to it, a few garlands here and there, some people wearing a holiday sweater or accessories, the occasional Santa hat. They get more catered meals from the suits upstairs and the occasional grateful patient, people bring in baked goods, there was even a gift exchange. It was no Nebraska Christmas, but Dennis has the distinct feeling this new normal will fit just fine once he’s able to really carve out a place for himself in it. Found family and all that.
Dennis is mulling this over as he swings open the door to the breakroom, effectively startling one Dr. Robinavich who was simply trying to get some coffee and nearly spilled the hot liquid on himself in the process.
“Shit! I am so sorry. Are you okay?” Dennis asks, his hands going up in a steadying motion and moving closer to Robby, scanning for any spills.
Dr. Robby just waves a hand as if to fend him off. “No. I mean yeah. I’m- it’s fine.” He stammers and Dennis stops walking closer.
“Just came to grab a cookie before the rush begins,” Dennis says, trying to add some levity but ends up feeling awkward instead. What adult eats a cookie at 7:30 in the morning.
Stupid.
Seems Robby thinks so too, because the comment makes him chuckle a bit as he finishes pouring his coffee into his signature tumbler. “I’d recommend the snickerdoodles, better nab one before they’re gone.” He says, holding up a cookie Dennis hadn’t noticed sitting on a napkin on the counter. “And by that, I mean before I eat them all. They’re my favorite.”
Not so stupid then.
A smile spreads across Dennis’ face, “Noted. My grandma had the best snickerdoodle recipe, she won the blue ribbon at every bake off I can remember for them. That and her pies.”
“You bake?” Robby asks, his brows lifting.
“Yeah, I uh, spent a lot of time with her and my mom in the kitchen growing up. Especially during the holidays…” Dennis trails off and purses his lips in a line.
Robby mirrors his expression and nods, “Is it tough, being away from them?”
“A little,” Dennis sighs, “but I think I miss the nostalgia of it all more than what it actually was, you know?”
“Oh yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” Robby huffs a sigh of his own.
“Do you celebrate? Hanukkah just passed, didn’t it?”
Robby bites his lips and shakes his head, he hesitates before answering as if deciding how much he wants to disclose. “Uh no, not really. They keep me pretty busy here, and there’s not really…anyone to celebrate with anymore. Jake and I used to get together couple days before Christmas, but well- not this year.”
There’s a pang that hits Dennis square in the chest and it’s all he can do to keep himself from reaching out to comfort his attending.
Inappropriate. Keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.
Instead, Dennis just nods in understanding. Anything he can think to say feels cheap so the moment stretches a beat longer than comfortable. Robby finally clears his throat and holds up his tumbler, “See you out there, Whitaker. Hope the snickerdoodles hold up to your grandma’s legacy.”
“Uh yeah, I’m sure they will. See you, Dr. Robby.” Dennis shuffles over to the table where the tray of festive looking cookies lay under cling wrap. Robby, predictably, extends a firm hand to his shoulder as he passes by, patting twice but squeezes before letting go. The contact sends a tingle from his shoulder down to his fingertips and Dennis subconsciously flexes his hand in response before picking up one of the snickerdoodle cookies, wondering if the one he’s chosen rested against the very same one that Robby had picked.
Get it together, man. You can’t still be this obsessed.
Oh, but he could. In the months he’s spent in the Pitt, Dennis has been very grateful to call Dr. Robby his mentor. He’s a great teacher, gives praise easily, corrects firmly but compassionately, and he’s really learned a lot under his tutelage. Like how to tell what mood the older doctor is in by the placement and pressure of his innocuous touches, like how it feels to stand under the sunlight of Robby’s appraisal, like how said touches and appraisal seem to be reserved for him alone. He’s not obsessed. He’s not desperate for the man’s attention. He doesn’t need it like breathing. Really, he doesn’t.
Liar.
Dennis lifts the cookie to his nose and inhales, taking in the sugary-cinnamon smell. “They’re my favorite.” Was he Robby’s favorite? Certainly seemed like it sometimes. But Dennis could very well be delusional. He takes a bite, it’s a little harder than he likes personally, and could use a bit more cinnamon. He resolves to bake some for Robby, maybe for his birthday or something. Does he need a reason?
He shakes his head and leaves the breakroom, stuffing the rest of the cookie in his mouth and returning to the hub just as Robby is starting the morning meeting. He’s still chewing when Robby meets his eye with a slight smile and a raised brow. Dennis attempts a smile and a shrug in response but instead chokes on the remaining cookie and devolves into a coughing fit, garnering more than a couple heads turned his way. McKay hands him her water bottle and he takes a grateful swig, clearing his throat with a couple more coughs.
“Sorry, sorry.” Dennis chokes out, “Wrong pipe.” He can feel how red his face is, partially from the coughing and the rest from embarrassment, which only deepens when he sees Robby, arms crossed and head bowed, shoulders shaking with a silent chuckle. Dennis prays for a hole to open up and swallow him then and there.
Robby finishes the roundup and they all disperse. As Dennis heads in the direction of an overnight patient to check on them, he feels the familiar presence of his senior attending sidle up next to him, matching his stride.
“Didn’t like the cookies, huh?”
Blush creeping back up his neck, Dennis stammers, “Wha- oh no. They were great. I can see why they’re your favorite.”
“Just not your grandma’s?” He teases.
“Really, they were good! I just choked.” Dennis insists, then lowering his voice he adds, “But no, not like my grandma’s. I’ll have to make them for you sometime. I mean- bring them in for the department. I’ll have to make them. I just think, if you like these then you’ll love the ones I make. I mean-”
Jesus, just keep digging that hole. Way to be subtle.
Mercifully, Robby doesn’t laugh in his face, though he does sport an amused smirk as he picks up a tablet to read over the patient chart they’re about to enter. “I look forward to trying them.” He says simply and pulls back the curtain to reintroduce himself to the patient, still groggy from restless sleep.
---------
The morning picks up the pace fairly quickly, many with a festive tinge to them that Dennis can’t help but be amused by. One guy got a nasty cut from a broken ornament while wrangling his cat out of the Christmas tree, a couple kids come in with their new toys lodged securely up their noses, and they’ve already got a couple people with festive objects stuck up their rectum. All in all, it’s been a fairly low risk but entertaining morning. Dennis checks the time and realizes Trinity is likely almost to her family’s so he decides to shoot her a text.
Dennis: Hey, you doin’ alright? Make it there safely?
The response is almost immediate, which means she’s either texting and driving or she’s braving her mothers side of the family and all the holiday chaos she told him about when trying to sell him on the idea of joining her.
Trin: Yep. I’m on potato peeling duty. Serious stuff
Dennis: Woah, better scrub up lol
Trinity sends an image; a bowl full of skinless potatoes ready for chopping, skins piled in a trash bin next to the counter while she gives them the finger as if the peels have personally offended her.
Dennis: You tell ‘em
Dennis: I’m on my third foreign object removal of the day. You’re really missing out
He’s still smiling to himself when Donnie calls to him from across the hub, “Whitaker! Could use a little help over here!” Dennis’ phone buzzes one last time before he glances at the screen before pocketing it.
Trin: Jealous :p
Schooling his features back into doctor mode, Dennis follows the voice that called for him, sanitizing his hands on the way and retrieving gloves from the box secured to the wall. “What can I do?”
--------
“This has gotta be a record, right?” Dennis asks some time later, peeling the gloves from his hands to toss in the waste bin, turning to Dr. Robby, doing the same.
“Not even close. One Christmas we ended the night with twelve. You wouldn’t believe how…creative people can be.” He chuckles.
Dennis shakes his head in disbelief, “I guess not. I thought four was a lot, don’t wanna know where we’ll be at the end of the night.”
The pair exit the now empty patient room and stride back to the hub to update the chart. There’s a companionable pause as they walk together.
“Santos make it to her folks alright?” Robby asks, breaking the silence.
“Oh, uh-”
“Saw you grinning at your phone earlier, I assumed-” Robby starts and seems to falter, “Maybe I shouldn’t have, uh, sorry if that’s…” He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck, something Dennis has noted Robby only does when he’s anxious or nervous.
“No, you weren’t wrong. Yeah, she made it. They put her to work immediately and she was kind of…complaining but not really. I- I’m rambling.”
He didn’t ask, dipshit.
Robby just nods politely, “I was surprised you didn’t go with her. You live together, right?”
He shrugs, “Yeah, but it’s not…I mean- she’s my best friend.”
This time Robby nods and licks his lower lip, giving the younger man that look that makes his stomach flip. “I’m glad you’ve found some friends out here.” He says after a moment, “I know it’s not easy being on your own.”
Dennis can’t help his eyes drifting from the soulful brown eyes aimed his way to the lips now glistening slightly from Robby’s saliva. He wonders idly what the feel of the salt and pepper beard would be like on his skin when he remembers that the man had actually said words to him and the customary thing to do is respond.
“Oh, yeah everyone’s been great. I really like it here.” Is all Dennis can think to say at first, then thinks of Robby’s last comment. “Do you have anything going on after this?”
“Ah, no. Not really a big day for me, you know.”
“No, no. I know. Just…you mentioned earlier this year’s been a little different and I just…I don’t know really. Just making conversation I guess.” Dennis trails off, familiar flush creeping back up his neck to his cheeks. “Forget I said anything, please.” He insists and walks away before he can embarrass himself further.
Mercifully, Robby doesn’t call after him and takes a seat at his work station to update the patient chart. Dennis turns his attention to the screen and tries to remember how to read while actively avoiding turning his gaze back to his attending. After what is probably too long, Dennis’ eyes focus and he is able to decipher the next patient and their location, he forces a deep breath through his lungs, squares his shoulders and heads off in the direction of room 18, resolving to avoid Dr. Robby as much as possible for the remainder of the shift.
“Tell you what,” Robby calls out as Dennis is passing by, he does a quick turn with his foot and finds himself leaning on the counter across from the attending. It wasn’t even a thought, Robby called, Dennis came.
“Yes, Dr. Robby?”
So much for avoiding. Pathetic.
“How about you and I make a bet?” He asks, glasses perched on his nose, his head tilted down as he levels Dennis with a stare from over the lenses.
“A bet? Want me to add it to the pool in Ahmad’s office?” Dennis didn’t know Robby to be the betting kind, he rarely added to the wagers the staff so often held. Of course, Dennis didn’t either, but for very different reasons. Currently there were about three different predictions being bet on and someone was going to have a very happy new year out of it.
Robby just offers a small smile and shakes his head. “Not this time. Just me and you.”
Just me and you.
A warmth pools in Dennis’ stomach and he clears his throat to buy himself a moment's more time before answering. “Uh…sure. What’re the terms?” He probably shouldn’t be agreeing to a bet before knowing the details, but then again this was Robby and Dennis would agree to pretty much anything if it was coming from, with, on, in…
“I’m gonna say we’ll probably end the night with eleven foreign object removals at the rate they’re coming in. What do you think?”
“Uh…maybe eight?” Dennis answers, still not entirely sure where this is going.
“Okay. Closest to the tally by EOD wins.”
Dennis shrugs his shoulders, completely lost now. “Okay? What does the winner get out of it? Sorry to say but I don’t really have the money to put down…” He trails off, a tinge of humiliation twisting the warmth sitting in his gut.
“No no, nothing like that.” Robby’s brow furrows slightly before smoothing out, like he hadn’t thought about Dennis’ financial restraints. “If I win, you let me buy you a drink after this.”
Dennis’ brow shoots up into his hairline. “And if I win?” he asks, somehow unable to imagine losing in either scenario.
“You let me buy you a drink after this. Or report me to HR for even asking. Either one is fair.” Robby shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lip as if he knows Dennis won’t opt for the latter.
“Why?” Dennis asks, his mouth suddenly dry and his head spinning ever so slightly as if he isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating or not.
Robby just shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest, “I have a feeling neither of us particularly wants to be alone tonight. Everyone we care about has lives of their own.”
The offer knocks Dennis off kilter and he rocks back on his heels slightly. “You wouldn’t be wrong.” He murmurs.
“So what do you say? Closest without busting wins?”
“Seems like I win either way.” Dennis quirks a shy smile and lowers his head, wishing not for the first time that he had more to offer.
“Actually I rigged it so I win either way. But sure, we’ll go with that.”
Dennis can’t but bark out a laugh, the sound escapes his lips a bit too loud to his own ears and swallows around it. “Okay, Dr. Robby. You’re on.” He takes his leave and beelines for room 18 to check on Ms. Moreno.
After a gnarly laceration cleaning and stitch up, Dennis pulls the curtain closed and has Princess prep for discharge. He’s just about to take a quick trip to the restroom for McKay is next to him, “What was that earlier?” There’s a hint of mischief, of knowing, in her tone.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dennis lies.
She nudges his shoulder with hers, crossing her arms and leveling him with that look that says she’s not listening to any bullshit. “You and Robby looked pretty cozy.”
“Yeah from all the way across the counter, sure.” He rolls his eyes and keeps walking.
“Could’ve fooled me.” She teases, “Hey, I’m not judging! Totally get it.”
“Always a pleasure, Dr. McKay!” He dismisses as he disappears behind the door to the men’s room.
--------
“So, Mr. Richards…do you want to tell us how this happened?” Robby asks as he, Dennis, and Kim are huddled around an x-ray image displaying the shape of a rather large decorative Christmas tree currently lodged inside of the man laying, rather uncomfortably on the bed next to them.
“I…uh, fell?” The man offers weakly and gives a meager shrug.
The three of them exchange a silent look and Mr. Richards squeezes his eyes shut presumably in an attempt to shield himself from the mortification.
“You know there’s like…toys made for this right?” Dennis is quiet, not judgmental exactly, but not gentle either, his expression pulling at one side in that way that always pissed his brothers off, now pisses Santos off just the same.
“I know that! Can you just…can you just get it out please?”
Robby clears his throat then, “Oh yeah, we can remove it no problem. We’re going to give you a general anesthesia, apply some local anesthetic, and use a rectal retractor to allow us to reach the object. Once it’s removed we’ll need to do a sigmoidoscopy, that’s just where we check to make sure nothing’s been injured or perforated from the inside. You’ll be asleep for the whole thing.”
“Oh, thank god. This whole thing is just really fucking embarrassing. I don’t really want the memory of hot medical professionals pulling a Christmas decoration out of my ass.”
Kim smiles smugly as she prepares the tray of needed tools, adds a couple more that Robby suggests and Dennis chokes on a snort that threatens to escape.
“Water, Dr. Whitaker?” Robby turns his amused gaze to Dennis, which means his head is now facing away from the patient, allowing for him to mouth “Five” without anyone else noticing.
Dennis bites his tongue, making it bulge just under his bottom lip on one side and shakes his head and clears his throat one more time. “No, I’m good. Sorry Mr. Richards. It really does happen more than you think, nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Besides, you’re actually helping me on my way to a free drink with my boss that I can’t stop thinking about. So I should be thanking you, really.
“Call me Andy. You’re about to be all up in my guts, we should at least be on a first name basis.” The last few words are lost in a jumble as the anesthetic takes over and he drifts into unconsciousness.
Dennis is still chuckling when his eyes catch Robby’s already trained on him. If Dennis was in the business of feeding into his delusions he might say the gaze was heated, hungry even. If he was in the habit of being honest with himself he would say his eyes mirror that same tension.
Meanwhile Kim contemplates whether she just turned invisible and resolves to add Robby/Whitaker Situationship to the betting pool.
--------
End of shift finally rolls around and though the evening had picked up and there were a few close calls, by some Christmas miracle 7:00pm arrived with no deaths to account for and he only had to change his scrubs once after a middle aged woman threw up holiday punch all over him as they set her nephew’s knee back in place after falling while testing out some new thing on wheels. Thankfully for him, the aunt hadn’t eaten much so he wasn’t left smelling too much like sick the rest of the shift.
Dennis, having changed and done his best to freshen up with a couple of wet wipes and a comb he pilfered from Trinity’s locker, is gathering his things from his locker, exchanging merry wishes as the day shift staff shuffles out and night shift trickles in. He isn’t loitering, exactly. Just taking his time. Dennis hadn’t seen much of Robby for the last hour of their shift and wasn’t going to seek him out to settle their bet, but he wasn’t going to rush out, either.
He’s just about to call it quits, slowly making his way to the waiting room doors when he catches sight of Robby and Abbot entering from the main stairwell. Dr. Abbot’s hand is clasped over one of Robby’s shoulders, reminiscent of the way Robby often does to him, Dennis can’t help but note. Abbot seems to notice him first, leaving Dennis feeling somehow caught.
He tilts his head with a lopsided smile and Dennis lifts a hand to wave in an awkward gesture and turns first towards the rooms to his right, then to the counter to his left to feign looking at something Very Important and not at all like he was waiting around for his boss to follow up on that very innocent drink they were very seriously betting on. From his periphery Dennis can see Abbot pat Robby on the back a couple times, lean close to his ear to say something, and the two exchange a look Dennis can’t quite decipher. He snaps his eyes to whatever paper he had picked up just as Robby eases up next to him, leaning his elbow on the counter.
“So, final tally?”
Dennis can’t help the smile tugging at his lips, “Eight.”
“On the dot.” Robby’s brow raises and he shoots Dennis a pleased grin that feels like sun in the stark winter. “You should place bets more often, Whitaker.”
He simply rolls his eyes and turns to finally leave the ED, “I’m not the gambling kind, Dr. Robby.”
“Beginners luck then.” Robby joins him as they weave through chairs out into the brisk evening. The wind blows sporadic flurries that won’t stick, the chill biting at their ears and nose immediately. “I think I owe you a drink, Dr. Whitaker.” He says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat, bunching up his shoulders to shield his neck from the cold.
Dennis nods, tugging his own threadbare Carhart tighter around himself, “Lead the way, Dr. Robby.” He sniffs against the chill threatening to make his nose run.
“It’s just Robby when we’re off the clock. Or you can call me Mike, if you like.” He scrunches his face against the unintentional rhyme, the glow from the streetlamps causing the wrinkles framing his features to seem more pronounced. “That was lame.”
“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything.” Dennis teases. He turns to begin the trek to the nearest bar, frequented by more than a few of the hospital staff after their shifts. A hand juts out and catches at the crook of Dennis’ elbow, halting his progress.
“Actually, I was thinking we could go somewhere else. If you don’t mind?” Robby asks, uncertainty and a tinge of exhaustion coating his voice. “Just don’t feel like making idle chit chat if there’s other PTMC people there tonight.”
Dennis considers, he’s sure the optics of a drink alone with a subordinate on Christmas Eve isn’t the best for Robby’s reputation and he’s not sure how to think about that. Of course, he also isn’t up for small talk with staff he doesn’t know that well either. Plus that whole follow Robby anywhere thing he keeps insisting isn’t a thing kind of negates any question of whether he’d agree to Robby’s request.
“Yeah. Yeah of course.” Dennis turns in the opposite direction and the two stride to the parking garage where Robby’s SUV is waiting, already running with a soft white plume streaming from the exhaust and a soft hum filling the hair as they draw nearer.
Inside, the car is neat but lived in, the odd receipt crumpled into the door pocket, loose change in one of the small storage slots. Robby removes his hospital badge and tosses it into the other compartment. It’s a practiced move, as if that is simply where the badge lives when it isn’t clinging to the older man’s scrubs. Dennis assumes it’s muscle memory, and for some reason this strikes him as oddly intimate, the removal of “Dr. Robby” in his own space. There’s a shift with the soft clatter of the badge into its bed, almost imperceptible. Robby’s shoulders relax while Dennis’ tense, they are in uncharted territory and Dennis is a fish out of water, unsure what happens next.
Just drinks. Don’t get ahead of yourself. This isn’t anything.
A forgotten coffee tumbler, the blue one in Robby’s rotation of travel mugs, Dennis notes, rolls forward at his feet as he pulls the car from its parking spot. It must have slid under the seat at some point and has been dislodged from its hiding spot.
“Oh shit, sorry.” Robby says, keeping his foot on the brake and leaning over surreptitiously to retrieve the cup from the floorboard. The movement brings him considerably closer to Dennis and as he reaches the object his arm brushes against his shin up to his knee, the touch is brief and innocent and entirely new, it halts Dennis’ breath in his lungs. As Robby straightens out, his eye catches Dennis’ for a beat before turning away. Neither of them says a word, he swears Robby’s cheeks are blooming red as he twists to place the tumbler in a cupholder behind the center console.
Everything secured in place, Robby shifts into gear and the car moves forward. The bluetooth connects and the warm space is filled with classic rock and comfortable silence. They drive through streets that have become familiar to Dennis over the course of his time in the city and after a moment he becomes transfixed with the lights and wreaths peppering lamp posts and storefronts, the snowflakes whipping around and turning to droplets as they collide with the windshield.
He thinks of his brothers, their wives and children packed into their family home at this very minute. His mother fusses over the ham and the sides and the table settings hopefully with some help, she always puts too much on herself and doesn’t know how to ask for help. His father is probably nursing a bourbon in the recliner near the fireplace while his nieces and nephews either choreograph a dance to torture them with later or play some form of tag or whatever they’re into these days. The local gossip and prattling about the coming spring, what crops will do well and which might not, which animals are expected to mate and which to sell. They’ll say grace and break bread and there won’t be a mention of him or a spot missing at the table.
Lost in the vision, Dennis comes to as the car is parked on the street catty-corner to a bar he’s never been to. Robby clears his throat, “We’re here. You okay? It’s not too late to back out if you changed your mind. I can take you home if you want.” He sounds almost nervous, uncertain, it’s an odd cadence Dennis has only heard from him once.
“No no, sorry. I’m okay, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, honest.” He smiles weakly, but he means it.
Robby gives him a disbelieving look, but doesn’t press. They get out and the hypnotic warmth from the SUV is replaced with that windy chill from before. Stuffing their hands in their pockets the pair cross the street and the short distance to the promise of warmth and drink just ahead.
“What were you thinking about?” Robby's words cut through the whipping air around them, Dennis has to strain to pick out the words.
“Eh, just thinking about my family. What they’re probably doing right now.”
They reach the heavy wooden door, Robby holds it open for him. Dennis steps through, the heat smacking him in the face along with the smell of beer, a salty snack for picking at, and years of wear that the floors, bartop, and pool table in the back have seen. All in all, it’s a pretty typical dive bar. The kind of place he could see Robby spending a night throwing back a beer, maybe even playing darts or challenging someone with a game of billiards. Does Robby play pool? Will he have the chance to find out?
It’s also similar enough to the kind of bar he could walk into back in Nebraska, worn linoleum floors, promo posters for various beverages and witty signs scattered over the walls, colorful string lights and little stockings with the names of staff hung across the back wall, adding a festive touch. Early 2000s rock streams from the speakers while someone is contemplating seriously in front of the touchtunes screen to their left. There are high-backed leather barstools along one side and a short row of dark brown booths on the other. The back of the bar held a line of slots a couple people were camped out at and a single pool table currently unoccupied.
It was like any neighborhood bar in the midwest, save for a couple small details that stick out to Dennis immediately. Namely a small pride flag sticking out of a cup overloaded with pens and highlighters and a Black Lives Matter sticker on the mirror above the bar’s register. Familiar, but friendlier. It was perfect.
Robby leads the way to a set of stools at the far end of the bar, there are a few people here and there but it was clearly a slow night for now. Dennis shuffles onto the chair as smoothly as is possible in a high top for someone whose feet don’t quite touch the ground from a seated position. Once settled in, Robby flags for the bartender and they wait for him to make his way over to them.
“Do you wish you were with them?” Robby asks and it takes him a moment to remember what he’s referring to.
“My family?” Robby hums in confirmation, “It’s complicated.”
“Always is.”
“How we doin’ tonight fellas?” The bartender arrives, his festive hat clad with a bell hanging from the end jingles with every movement. They order their beers, Robby opens a tab and Dennis tries not to read into it.
The pints are placed in front of them and Robby lays down a tenner as a tip, to which Dennis raises his brow.
“Show off.”
Robby shrugs, “It’s Christmas.”
“You’re Jewish.”
“So what?”
Dennis’ turn to shrug, “Fair. Just setting a mighty precedent there, hope you came prepared.”
“I can go for a few rounds, don’t you worry.”
A heat that has nothing to do with his drink coils in Dennis’ stomach. Unconsciously, his tongue runs over his bottom lip, folding it into his mouth and he nearly bites his fucking lip. He takes a drink to mask the reflex. Robby mirrors him and takes a large gulp, his throat bobbing as the liquid flows through his esophagus.
“What about you?” Dennis asks, staring into his glass but resolves to shift his gaze back to Robby once he realizes how mopey he must look, “Anywhere else you’d rather be right now?”
You just want to hurt your own feelings, huh?
It takes a moment for him to respond, Dennis can see his eyes shift as if deciding within himself what to say, how to approach. “Honestly?”
“Always.” Another sip.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, right now. With you.” A knee is leaned ever slightly against his own. Dennis presses back gently.
He nods, never taking his eyes off the brown ones assessing him for a response.
Guess we’re both fish out of water.
“Okay.” He offers quietly.
Robby tilts his head once in acquiescence, “Okay.”
They finish their beers and Robby orders them another.
Conversation flows smoothly after that. It’s the first they’ve really been able to take the time to get to know each other beyond procedures and pep talks and the occasional side conversation that inevitably gets cut off by an emergency elsewhere. But there’s no crisis here, no life to save, no rush.
They talk and talk and laugh and talk. Robby tells Dennis about his residency, reminisces on stories of Abbot and Dana in their early days in the Pitt, even tells him a little about Adamson, though he filtered off after that. In turn, Dennis tells Robby about growing up on a farm, how many animals he’d birthed, and grosses him out with weird games from his youth group days. They share what got them both into medicine and bond over Myrna’s harassment.
Robby asks about Street Team and rooming with Santos and does not ask how that came to be or too much about religion. Dennis asks about concerts and motorcycles and does not ask about the emotional and mental toll of running an ER or why he and Abbot come from the only stairs with roof access so often.
By the time their fourth pints are half-drained, Dennis is feeling warm for many reasons, pleasantly light and still within his faculties. He can tell Robby has told him just the soft bits of things, and he’s done the same. As they talk, a simple knee press turns to a hand at the shoulder, a hand at the knee, an arm over the back of a chair, a hand at the base of the neck, a finger twirled around a curl. The touches are exchanged, welcomed, new boundary lines formed, erased, formed again.
After an eternity, conversation had lulled and the air and time seemed to move differently in the space around them.
“You ever play pool?” Robby asks suddenly, jutting his head toward the table behind them.
“Uh, a bit with my brothers. Not in a while though.” Robby is already sliding out of his seat and turns Dennis’ chair around so he’s facing the dark green table.
“Eh it’s like riding a bike. Come on, Abbot never plays with me.” Dennis chuckles at how childish the comment sounds coming from his attending and he kind of loves it.
“Okay, okay. You’re on.” He hops down from his perch and joins Robby at the rack of cue sticks, “I’ll play with you.”
The small quirk of Robby’s lips he knows is mirrored in his own expression tells Dennis all he needs to know.
The table is free to play, so they don’t need to fumble for coins or loose bills. Robby slides the triangular rack from its slot in the side of the table and busies himself with organizing stripes and solids, using deft fingers to place them exactly where he wants and rolls the rack into place until satisfied. They flip a coin to decide who breaks, and Dennis is grateful he loses.
He watches, standing by their spot at the bar, leaning gently against his chosen cue, as Robby rubs the chalk cube over the end of his cue. He leans low over the table, his stick lined up with him, one hand outstretched, his fingers braced against the table, his thumb angled upward to hold the end of the cue steady. Robby’s eyes hold the kind of concentration usually reserved for a tricky procedure, his focus boiled down to nothing but his goal in front of him and the hands to get the job done. He pulls the stick back and inches it forward and back again. Just as he is sure Robby is about to strike the cue ball, he looks up, flashes Dennis a crooked smile and a fucking wink, and surges the stick forward breaking the tight formation with a crack. Three balls find their way into the holes. Two more swell as the coil is tightened in Dennis’ abdomen and his jeans are feeling a little tighter than they were a minute ago.
You’re so fucked.
Turns out Robby is very good at pool. He sinks two more solids before Dennis has the opportunity to try his hand. Thankfully muscle memory kicks in and he sinks two of his own. He has to nudge Robby out of the way on his second ball and shows off a little by nearly sitting on the edge of the table and hitting the ball from behind his back to get a better angle. Relief washes over him when the maneuver was actually successful, it was his middle brother’s signature move when they played but Dennis had never made it before. Robby’s impressed chuckle made his blood sing.
They took turns peacocking, sharing glances, leaning closer than necessary, testing complicated angles, until only the eight ball remained. Robby scratched, which left Dennis the advantage. He sinks the ball with ease and could not be more pleased as he turns to face Robby with a cocky little turn, arms outstretched and a shit eating grin on his face.
“Second win of the night. Maybe I should gamble.” Dennis teases.
“Beginners' luck.” Robby repeats the sentiment from earlier and shakes his head fondly, standing once again closer than strictly necessary.
Dennis had to look up to meet his eye, “Hardly a beginner, I’d say.” They were holding their cues in opposite hands, which meant they were grasping the sticks directly in front of each others’.
They stood like this, once again in their own bubble of space and time, sharing breath and gaze for a minute or an hour, Dennis didn’t know and didn’t care. He watched as Robby’s eyes went from fond to hungry before fading slightly. Finally, the older man cleared his throat, licked his bottom lip in that infuriating way that twisted the ever tightening coil of heat nestled inside Dennis.
“I need a cigarette. Join me?” Robby asked. When Dennis simply nodded in response, he grasped his cue stick from his hand, their fingers brushing as he took both sticks in one hand and returned them to the rack.
Robby grabbed his coat from the back of his abandoned stool, downed the rest of the water they had opted for after their last pint and closed the tab as Dennis followed suit with his own coat and water. They bid their goodbyes to the bartender and exchanged holiday wishes to a man who called out a drunken “Merry Christmas!” which devolved into a slurred Christmas song as they passed by.
Outside, the flurries had picked up as the wind continued to whistle through the night air. They duck around the corner to the alley in a meager attempt to get out of the gusts. Robby retrieves a carton of cigs from his coat pocket and holds it out in an offering to Dennis. He takes one and waits as Robby tries to light his own. Dennis is leaning against the cold brick wall, Robby before him striking the lighter again and again as it sparks and sputters, his cupped hand not enough to shield from the fierce wind.
“Motherfuck-” Robby mumbles around the stick between his lips.
Dennis lifts his own hands to help but no sooner had his fingertips met Robby’s when the man drops the cigarette from his mouth and surges forward claiming Dennis’ mouth with his own.
The kiss is urgent and clumsy, Robby’s hand not holding the lighter grasps Dennis’ cheek, fingers resting on his neck as his body presses forward pinning him to the wall chest to chest. A sound of surprise and pure want escapes Dennis’s mouth. Their lips are chapped, their teeth clatter, Dennis’ hands, which he’d intended to cup around the flame, now cup Robby’s cheeks.
He kisses Dennis like a man deprived. Consuming, grasping, wanting, taking. Finally, taking.
Dennis dares to press his tongue to Robby’s lip, bidding entry and is met with a guttural moan. Their tongues roll over one anothers, tasting of beer and the slightest hint of menthol and each other. Robby’s beard is rough against Dennis’ skin, his hands pressing under his coat and roving over his chest around his hips and to his back, holding the shorter man as close as possible. Their lips part only for Robby’s lips to find purchase on Dennis’ jaw, kissing down his neck, pulling a particularly lude sound from his mouth as Robby’s mouths at the junction where jaw meets neck. Dennis’ hips roll forward, chasing friction desperately and he is not disappointed as Robby slots a thigh between his legs, grinding a growing hardness against him.
“Fuck.” Dennis pants and turns his face to capture Robby in another searing kiss. He is gripping the fabric at Robby’s sides in an attempt to ground himself to a reality he still isn’t sure is actually happening.
“Been driving me crazy.” Robby murmurs into Dennis’ lips between the hot press of lips anywhere they can reach.
“Likewise.” Dennis leans in chasing down another press of lips, only to find Robby pulling back just out of range. He suppresses the urge to whine and opens his eyes to find the man looking intently at him, as he is wont to do as of late. Robby’s expression, ever the open book, betrays the barely concealed lust and some decision he’s mulling over behind those deep brown eyes. The air around them a cloud created by their shared pants, chests heaving and faces flush.
Dennis quirks his brow and is about to speak, try to smooth things over, apologize, something, when Robby beats him to it.
“I’ve been going to therapy.” He says abruptly.
“Cool.” Dennis, breathless and confused at the turn this is taking when Robby’s thigh is still pressed firmly against his cock through his jeans.
“Thanks. I don’t…know how I feel about it.” He says, chest still heaving and he makes no move to put any distance between them.
“Okay.”
“But I’ve been advised to be an active participant in my life instead of just letting things happen around me. And acknowledge when things feel good, and try to let myself enjoy it.”
“Right.”
“I don’t think this is what she meant,” Robby chuckles, the sound a low rumble in his chest, “But this feels really fucking good. And I want you, Dennis. Fuck, I want you. And it’s gross and unfair and inappropriate and I shouldn’t even-” The words are cut off as Dennis surges forward, crashing their lips together once more.
“You,” He starts, words muffled between their lips, “have no fucking clue what you do to me.”
This seems to be all the permission Robby needs to dive back into the pool of Dennis’ mouth, hands, and body. They grip, mouth, and moan into each others’ lips, tugging at whatever fabric or body part they can get their hands on. The chill has crept from the bricks into his back through his coat and sends a shiver down his spine as Robby presses him firmer to the wall, a hand clasped at his hip.
Robby nips at Dennis’ bottom lip, stretching it slightly before loosing it from his teeth and nudges the shorter man’s nose with his own, both red with the cold still whipping around them.
“In for a penny,” He whispers, “Do you want to get out of here?”
“God yes.” Dennis breathes and pulls Robby in for a last searing press of lips before they brace once more against the wind and trek back towards the car.
The ride back to Robby’s place is quiet, a firm hand grasps above Dennis’ knee, he bites his cheek the whole way to keep from squirming in his seat, the soft thrum of music filling the space once again. They don’t talk, but this does nothing to ease the tension taut between them that’s been building up all day.
Once there, Robby leads the way up the few steps to unlock the door of the townhouse. He kicks his boots against the small ledge of the doorframe knocking snow from his soles, Dennis follows suit before the door is closed behind him and he is caught again between a wall and Robby’s body, arms bracketing to either side of him as a kiss, gentler than before but no less urgent is pressed to his lips his cheeks his neck. Hands rove over his shoulders to ease his coat from around him, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.
Robby’s head lowers, resting their foreheads together. “I need…” he trails off, taking a deep breath.
“Anything.” The word is an exhale between them.
“I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. I couldn’t…I really couldn’t live with myself if you’re only here because you’re afraid to say no. You can leave at any time, I shouldn’t even, I won’t…”
Dennis trails open mouthed kisses along Robby’s neck into his beard, up to his ear where he sucks the lobe into his mouth, grazing with his teeth every so slightly, drawing a moan from his throat. “If you don’t get out of that head of yours and just fucking touch me I swear I’ll-” Neither of them ever find out what Dennis would have said next because Robby is palming his cock through his jeans, still half hard from the alley.
They are grinding against one another, chasing friction like teenagers, all moans and mouths and not enough pressure still in the fucking foyer. Dennis fumbles with Robby’s belt, pressing forward and turning so the other’s back is to the wall now as his hand slips to rub the hardness barely concealed over his briefs, groaning at the warmth radiating through thin cotton. Robby’s head falls back against the wall and his expression cracks as a grateful whimper tumbles from his lips. Dennis wishes he could bottle the sound and resolves to do everything in his power to hear it again.
“So good for me.” Dennis mumbles against his neck, stubble scratching his lips deliciously, tongue darting out at various spots until he feels Robby’s cock twitch against his hand as he licks at the skin just under his ear. Dennis grins against his neck before dragging his teeth, barely a touch, over the spot and sucking once more, not enough to leave a mark and savors the taste of salt, the hint of antiseptic, and pure Robby writhing at his, Dennis Whitaker’s, touch.
His movements are suddenly stilled as Robby grips his shoulder and presses him back, putting inches between them that feel like miles. “Okayokayokay.” He huffs, squeezing his eyes open and closed to the ceiling as his chest heaves. “Fuck you’re gonna kill me.” Robby shakes his head, a smile pulling at his kiss bitten lips.
“What do you want, Michael?” Dennis’ voice is low and laced with all the lust he’s held back for months. “I want to give it to you.”
“Fuck me.” Robby huffs, rubbing a hand down his face.
“I can do that.”
Robby laughs again, “Maybe next time.” He pauses, meeting Dennis’ heated stare, considering. “I want to see you desperate.”
Next time.
“You see me desperate everyday.”
Dennis watches the hunger return to his eyes, “What do you want, Dennis?” He nods once, volleying the ball back into his court.
He leans closer once again, his lips a ghost over Robby’s ear as he whispers, “I want to feel you, everywhere. I want my name to be the only one you remember. I want you to mark me and claim me and no matter what happens after this I want to see your face turn that beautiful shade of red at the mention of my name because you can’t help but think about how it sounded from your lips when you filled me.”
Robby’s eyelids flutter as his eyes glaze over at Dennis’ words, his pulse thrumming as he levels his breathing. “The mouth on you.” He shakes his head and grips the younger man’s arm to gently shove him forward towards stairs presumably leading to a bedroom.
“You have no idea.” Dennis turns around to flash Robby a grin, letting him step forward onto the steps to lead the way, staring openly at his ass, admiring the hem of briefs peaking out from this cargos still undone in the front, causing them to sag slightly at his hips.
Robby pauses at the top of the stairs, turning to glance again at Dennis whose own hunger must be on full display as he looks up at his attending through lidded eyes, even lower than he usually is from two steps beneath the landing. Something seems to finally click into place for Robby because he reaches down and grips the fabric of Dennis’ shirt near the collar and pulls him forward, forcing his feet to shuffle quickly to avoid crashing at the man’s feet. Though he wouldn’t be opposed to being on his knees at this point. Dennis thinks he’s about to be pulled into another kiss but is instead dragged into Robby’s bedroom where he is turned around and walked backwards until his calves hit a mattress and he falls backward onto the soft surface.
Like a dog.
For a moment Robby just stands over him between his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. The deep green duvet is thick and soft under his palms laying haphazard at his sides. He props himself on his elbows and waits for his next instruction.
I can be your dog.
“Sit up.” Robby demands. Dennis complies, still gazing through his lashes.
He leans down to grip at the hem of Dennis’ shirt, pulling it smoothly over his body and tossing it to the side. Robby reaches up to run his fingers through Dennis’ hair, fringe to nape, gently tugging his head back so the younger man’s face is turned upward. Nowhere to hide his lust and all manner of sins, Dennis is completely vulnerable under Robby’s spotlight. He lowers and plants a kiss, deeper than any they’ve shared so far, “So beautiful like this.” Robby murmurs against Dennis’ lips and he takes the words in like the Eucharist.
Sinking to his knees, Robby’s hands graze over hips and thighs, running down to squeeze his calves as he places kisses to Dennis’ knees trailing closer to his groin. He drags his nose and cheeks across Dennis’ lap, inhaling deeply, his eyes falling closed as if in prayer. Nudging at Dennis’ straining cock still concealed painfully by the constricting fabric of his jeans, Robby places an open mouthed kiss there and Dennis can’t help the small buck of his hips against the much needed friction.
Leaning back just enough to glance up at Dennis marveling at the sight, Robby’s hands slid back up his legs to rest at the waist of his jeans in a silent question. Dennis nods, not trusting himself to form coherent words. Robby undoes the clasp and Dennis lifts himself up as jeans and boxers are pulled from his hips in one go, his cock, thick and red with arousal, bounces free bobbing against his abdomen, a bead of precum dripping from the head and spotting his stomach.
Slipping each leg free of his pants, Robby kisses his way back to Dennis’ groin, taking his time to drag his lips, tongue, and teeth along the sensitive skin. He pauses at the space where thigh meets pelvis, his nose nuzzling into the bed of dark blonde public hair. Robby inhales deeply and the sight alone causes Dennis cock to twitch near his bearded cheek, eliciting a soft smile as he resumes his exploration.
Finally, Robby runs his tongue along the underside of the shaft before taking the head of Dennis’ cock into his mouth, circling his tongue before sucking gently. Dennis’ breath hitches in his chest and comes out in a shudder. Robby lowers painfully slowly, undulating his tongue as he takes more and more of Dennis into his mouth. He is utterly unprepared when he feels his nose once again nudging at his pubes, bottoming out inside Robby’s throat.
“Fucking hell.” Dennis collapses back against the mattress, completely at his mentor’s mercy. He can feel the slightest pull of a smile and the reverberation of a hum in Robby’s throat as he begins to suck him off in earnest.
Dennis pants and brings an arm up to bite at his forearm to stifle a moan. Robby pulls away from him with an obscene pop so he can reach over and pulls at Dennis’ elbow. “Uh uh,” He tuts, shaking his head. “Wanna hear you.” He has that lopsided grin again and Dennis can’t help but bite his lip at the sight and nod, placing his hand instead at the back of Robby’s head as his mouth is returned to his cock.
A hand is massaging his balls, Robby’s head is bobbing in earnest, his other hand is stroking his cock upward to meet his mouth, pulling saliva and precum to the base. Dennis is gripping what he can of Robby’s hair, his back arching upward in ecstasy as sounds he’d never heard from his own mouth fill the space around them.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” Dennis leans back on his elbows and pushes Robby’s head back gently, exposing his sensitive skin to the air and immediately misses the wet heat of Robby’s mouth.
Robby, hair mussed from Dennis’ grip and breathless, his lips and beard glistening from their collective fluids, leans back slightly, his hands now anchored at Dennis’ hips. “You okay?” His voice is hoarse and tinged with concern, chest heaving as he swallows thickly.
In answer, Dennis pulls him into another kiss, rolling his tongue over Robby’s, eyes rolling back at the taste of himself and Robby on his tongue. “How are you still fully clothed?”
“Got distracted.” Robby gently lifts himself to the bed and Dennis is sure his knees are aching but he wasn’t hearing any complaints so he decides not to worry about it as he scoots further onto the bed, making room for Robby to lean over him.
“Get your head in the game, coach.” Dennis teases and basks in the responding chuckle. “Off, now.” He tugs at the fabric of Robby’s hoodie.
Leaning back so he’s kneeling over Dennis, bracketing his bare hips, Robby pulls the hoodie and t-shirt off in one go. Dennis leans up and reaches to run his hands over the exposed skin, soft stomach and chest, salt and pepper hair mapping out the expanse of skin trailing down and disappearing under his waistband. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” Dennis murmurs just below his naval, hands wrapping around to wander over his ass down to the back of his thighs.
He hears a small chuckle overhead, “Maybe twenty years ago. You got the rusted model, kid.”
Dennis tsk’s in response and a low “You have no idea,” that he doesn’t care if Robby hears or not as he pulls the already unclasped pants down around his hips just enough to reveal the man’s straining cock. He is a little longer than Dennis, but slightly slimmer and the younger man wastes no time in swallowing him whole.
Robby grips his shoulders as he works his tongue over the head, using his other hand slick with the spit he manages to slather over the shaft to twist as he jerks him off into his mouth. The older man bucks into his mouth at the movement and squeezes his shoulders, another delicious whimper filling the air and Dennis is sure he won’t be able to endure another shoulder squeeze from Robby again without getting a chub.
“Wait, wait.” Robby pulls his hips back, removing himself from Dennis’ mouth, “I’m not gonna last if you keep going like that.” He says, meeting Dennis’ eye through lidded lashes, a bit of drool and spend at the corner of his mouth. Robby leans down and licks it up, capturing Dennis in another tender kiss. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Fucking angelic.”
Dennis lowers himself back to his elbows and lays languid beneath him, “You should fuck me about it.”
In answer, Robby shuffles backward off the bed. Dennis is very near an actual pout when Robby retrieves a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer in the bedside table. He tosses them onto the bed next to Dennis before tugging his cargos and briefs the rest of the way down his legs and steps out of them and pulls off his socks.
Robby is standing bare before Dennis and they appreciate one another fully for a moment. “How do you like it?”
“On my back, I want to see you.”
He nods and lowers himself back over Dennis near his feet, kissing his way up the younger man’s body. Dennis parts his legs as Robby settles between them. He pulls a pillow from somewhere behind Dennis’ head and he lifts his hips so the pillow can be placed beneath him. Robby retrieves the lubricant and squirts a dollop onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it a bit. Their breathing has evened out between them and Robby leans over him, they exchange open mouthed kisses while Robby’s hand not slicked with lube runs up and down his side.
“Still okay?”
“Better than.”
With that, Robby places one more kiss to his lips before resting his forehead against Dennis’ own as the pad of a finger is gently pressed against his hole. Robby uses practiced fingers to work him open one digit at a time as Dennis grips his arms, nails digging into skin that he’s sure will leave a mark. His moans are swallowed by Robby’s mouth as he presses their lips together and mutters encouragement and praise Dennis isn’t even sure the man is aware he’s saying.
“Feel so good, Den. Such a good boy for me. Can’t stop thinking about you, did you know that? I bet you knew. Can’t keep my hands to myself. Wanna hear those perfect sounds. Just like that. Take my fingers so good, can’t wait to see how you take my cock. Almost there, you can do it. I know you can.”
Once he is writhing under Robby’s touch and he’s worked him open to his satisfaction, Dennis can’t take it anymore, “Need you inside me. Now.” He whimpers, positively desperate.
Just like you wanted.
Only then does Robby retrieve the condom, ripping it open with his teeth and rolls it over his cock, having been neglected out of necessity, and finally, finally, lines himself up with Dennis’ hole. The younger man attempts to push his hips back onto his cock and Robby pulls his hips back, just out of reach.
“Ah ah ah.”
“Fucker.”
Robby laughs in earnest then, the sound a song and a torture to Dennis’ ears. “So needy.”
“You quite literally asked for this. Now please fuck me.” Dennis grinds the words out and reaches out to grip Robby’s hip in an attempt to pull him closer.
A low rumble heaves from Robby’s chest, he hovers over Dennis staring openly at his face and presses the head of his cock into Dennis, who lets out a low moan as his prayers are answered.
Robby moves slowly until he is seated completely within Dennis, flush against one another, and waits as his body relaxes around him. When he’s ready, Dennis nods and Robby moves, drawing his hips back and grinding forward smoothly, the rhythm is soft at first until Dennis begins to meet his thrusts, urging for more pressure. Soon Robby is fucking him in earnest, pulling one leg up and cradling it at the knee in the crook of his elbow as he pounds into Dennis.
“Fucking gorgeous. Feel so good, so fucking tight. You’re gonna ruin me. And I’m gonna let you. So worth it to see you like this. So fucking lucky.” The praise continues to flow from Robby’s mouth with every thrust and Dennis preens, his prostate stimulated with every movement and the words adding fuel to the fire in his veins.
Robby reaches down to stroke Dennis as he fucks him, matching the push of his hips and the pull of his hand. Dennis is completely enveloped. Robby inside him, above him, the smell of sweat and sex, their mutual sounds of euphoria and praise winds the coil in his gut impossibly tighter, threatening to send him over.
“Wanna…fuck,wanna ride you.” Dennis manages to stutter the words and Robby wastes no time in turning them over so he is on his back, probably a mercy for the older man. It takes just a moment of readjusting before Dennis finds his rhythm, knees planted on either side of the man beneath him, pushing down greedily on his cock chasing down the fast approaching climax. Robby grips his hips tightly and pulls him down to meet upward thrusts. Dennis plants one hand atop Robby’s thigh behind him, taking himself in hand with the other and rides him in earnest.
He only lasts another minute or so before he’s leaning forward now, gripping Robby’s shoulder watching as he fucks up into him. Robby can see he’s close and encourages him over the edge. “Oh you’re so close, Den. That’s right, sweet boy, go ahead and use me. You feel good? Wanna make you feel so good. You can do it, take your fill. Go ahead and make a mess of me.”
The coil finally snaps and Dennis topples over the edge, painting Robby’s chest with his spend, his strokes and grinds slowing as he rides out his orgasm. Dennis falls into his chest and pants into the crook of Robby’s neck as the older man’s arms wrap around him, holding him close as he continues to fuck up into him.
As his mind clears of the post climax haze, Dennis wants to offer the same praise Robby gave to him, but the words feel foreign in his mouth and he ends up repeating variations of, “That’s it, come for me Robby. Just wanna feel you everywhere, you feel so good.” This seems to be more than enough as Robby’s pace falters, his face twisting, his moans growing desperate until, with a final push into Dennis’ hips, he stills. The condom inside Dennis fills and he feels a pang of longing to feel the hot stickiness of Robby filling him instead.
Count your blessings.
After a moment, Dennis carefully slides off of Robby’s softening cock and rolls to his side, completely spent. Robby leans up on his elbow and runs a gentle finger over his cheek, placing a soft kiss at Dennis’ forehead before shuffling off of the bed. His eyes are heavy and sleep waits to overtake him as he watches Robby remove the condom, tie off the end, and disappear from the room. Somewhere far away a door is opened, water runs, and Robby pads back into the room to wipe Dennis down with care and tenderness as if he is something precious. A tear threatens to escape and he blinks against it.
Once Robby is satisfied, his hand lifts as if to reach out to Dennis once more but stills in the space between them before pulling back and dropping to the mattress to fiddle with a loose strand in the duvet. He sits at the edge of the bed next to Dennis, he looks sheepish as he looks down at the crumpled duvet. “I…” Dennis is sure he’s about to make some excuse about being up early in the morning, which isn’t a lie, but he’s not ready to hear it. “I’d like you to stay. If you want to. But if you’d rather go home, I understand, and I can give you a ride.”
Dennis yawns deeply, “I think,” he slips his fingers under Robby’s fidgeting the fabric and laces them together, “I’d like to put my underwear back on. Then I’d like to get under these covers and get some sleep before we have to be up in…” he glances at the digital clock on the bedside table, “four and half hours.”
Robby’s shoulders sag in relief and his features soften once more. He stands and rifles through the top drawer of a dresser against the wall, retrieves a pair of underwear for himself and finds Dennis’ on the floor. They both shuffle underneath the bedcloths, Robby lays on his back one arm under Dennis, holding him close as he lays on his side, one leg curled over the other man’s, an arm draped over his chest. Robby’s other hand tangles his fingers with the hand on his chest as they settle in.
Breathing calms, Dennis is switching his gaze from the light streaming in and casting shadows from the window to Robby’s silhouette. “I don’t know what happens now.” he whispers to the ceiling, squeezing Dennis’ hand gently.
“I don’t either.” Dennis says just as softly, as if someone were around to hear their secrets, “But I think that’s okay.”
“Is it?” Robby turns his head to face Dennis, uncertainty painting his features.
Dennis shrugs, “I think so. I don’t regret it, and I hope you don’t either.”
“I don’t.” He cuts in.
“Good.” Dennis smiles and settles in further. “That’s good enough for me right now. Anything else can wait its turn.”
“Okay.” His fingers start to fidget around Dennis’.
Dennis hums, “Robby?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to be here?”
“More than you know.”
“I want to be here, too.”
“Okay.” A deep breath lifts their hands on Robby’s chest.
Robby’s body slowly relaxes under him, Dennis is sinking into the warmth as his brain grows fuzzy. He can feel the arm under him shift slightly before fingers are carding through his hair and smoothing it back. An almost imperceptible kiss is placed at his temple.
“Merry Christmas, Dennis.”