Work Text:
He makes the decision when two hours and forty-five minutes remain of their shift. But before that, he steals a moment to scurry up to the nurse's station.
“Dana?”
She turns on the spot, clipboard in hand. “Congratulations. You found her.”
He hesitates. Glances around quickly. “Uh…” Lowers his voice. Leans in as much as he can without disturbing her documents and pens and all. “Is… Have you noticed anything off about Robby?”
Her eyes meet his over the rim of her glasses. “Anythin’ more than usual?”
He grimaces. “It’s just… He seems a bit… distracted? Kind of zoned out?”
What he really wants to say resists forming on his tongue to materialize in the air: ‘on edge’ or ‘annoyed’. ‘Close to blowing up’, honestly.
“Seems fine to me,” she says. “By his standards,” she adds in a mutter.
“Okay,” he says. “That's good.”
Her eyes sharpen on him. “Should I be worried?”
He doesn't want to stir up trouble. Robby is a grown man who can take care of himself. At least sometimes. Therefore, Dennis shakes his head. “No, it's probably nothing.” He is just about to hasten back to the ugly lacerations in South sixteen when Dana stops him.
“Hey! You don't get to drop somethin’ like that on me without an explanation. Do I, or do I not, need to keep an extra eye on Robby?”
“Um…” He resists the urge to cringe under her scrutiny. “Maybe one? Just the corner of your eye?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Like, if you have one to spare?”
She is looking at him like he is experiencing the effects of severe head trauma. But then, after another moment, her face softens and her shoulders drop. “I thought he was doin’ better?”
“You think?”
Her gaze turns searching on his face. “You tell me. If rumor is to be believed, you see even more of him than I do these days.”
“Oh.” Some heat seeps into his face. “I'm not a psychiatrist…” he begins awkwardly.
“Deflectin’,” she cuts him off, pointing at him with the clipboard. “Learnin’ from the best,” she adds, a bit louder as the doors to Trauma one open and Robby himself steps out.
Dennis’ heart twists. Robby looks exhausted. Granted, it's the beginning of winter and the sun hasn't been seen for days but he still looks much too wan. It's like the uninspired daylight (of which they, due to being stuck indoors so much, also see too little of) has pooled in the already pretty deep lines in his face. Even as Dennis watches, Robby drags a hand over his face and then moves it to rub the back of his neck.
He is just about to walk up to Robby when Perlah beats him to it and sticks a tablet into his hand.
“Listen, kid,” Dana says from behind the desk, recalling his attention.
Dennis turns back to her with a fleeting sense of pure desperation. Her voice has softened, too:
“You've a big heart. Maybe bigger than what's strictly good for you.” She shakes her head. “Robby and Jack, they're evenly matched. God knows I love them but I can't say I'm not afraid that they'll somehow manage to chew you to pieces.”
“I know what I'm doing,” he says, even if that's not one hundred per cent true.
Her smile is kind. “No, you don't. But I hope they appreciate the effort. They should, if they're smart.”
After that, somewhat reassured by Dana's calm, he tries to put his worry aside, but it is no more than five minutes later that Robby near-lashes out at a college kid who's giving him attitude. Post-crisis, Dennis nervously fishes out his phone from his pocket and opens the message app.
He has never needed to do this before. Doesn't really know what to write. In the end, he settles for most likely entirely too many words but, as things appear to be standing, he cannot help himself. After some more fiddling with the phrasing, he presses ‘Send’ and then can only pray Jack is awake.
¤¤¤
Of course he is. Dennis has seen Jack sleep. Has tiptoed around his bed so carefully so as not to disturb him while gathering his things and preparing to leave while wishing he could stay. He knows Jack is no more than human but is still surprised when he shows up, clear-eyed and alert, what feels like only moments later.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” Dennis says by way of greeting, heart stammering in his breast as Jack signals for them to find a quiet spot.
That spot turns out to be Trauma one, still waiting for Esme’s crew to show up.
“What happened in here?” Jack asks, momentarily distracted by one of the overturned tables and the scattering of various instruments on the floor.
“Oh,” Dennis says. “Forty-eight-year-old male, struggled a lot. He was hard to get a read on at first but… clinical diagnosis turned out to be hypochondria.”
Jack's expression says enough about that. He tilts his chin up at Dennis instead. “What do you need?”
For his part, Dennis glances at the double doors. “I think we all need for Robby to go home…” He doesn’t like to say it so it comes out sounding almost like a question. He’s already feeling bad for going behind Robby’s back – saying it out loud isn’t any easier.
“Yeah, well, that’s a given.” Jack’s gaze is steady on him. “And what do you need?”
“Uh, me?”
They have a strict policy about not kissing in the workplace in, well, place. That doesn’t mean Dennis enjoys submitting to it. Looking at Jack now, he feels his resolve waver. Jack is their backbone. None of them, Dennis has come to understand, would be here without him. Or, they’d likely be here, in the Pitt, because Jack is not some omnipotent God who can dictate life and other people’s choices outside of his immediate reach, but they wouldn’t be in this weird, sort-of-maybe relationship without him. Which is funny (not as in funny funny) in itself because he’s just as – to be blunt – fucked up as Robby is, but at least he’s working on it.
As for Dennis, he’s much too new to this type of constellation and he kind of keeps thinking that he’s only on the fringes of it. Like an add-on. Someone who’s there to help hold up a mirror for Robby and Jack and make them see that their connection is worthy of some work, too.
Jack takes a step closer. Comes to the edge of Dennis' personal space. “Hey,” he says, voice sinking. Turning just slightly gravelly at the bottom. “You okay?”
“I guess I’m worried?” he says.
Otherwise unmoving, on the level of their hips, Jack runs the pad of his thumb down the inside of Dennis’ wrist. “Welcome to the club.” Then, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a wry smile, he gives Dennis’ hand a squeeze. “Want to go find him? Tell him the happy news?”
Nope. He really does not.
“That we’re forcing him to leave?”
“Better us than Gloria.”
It's too bad, really, that he’s right about that.
¤¤¤
As if Jack is some omnipotent God, they find Robby just as he is exiting the restroom. Along his hairline are water droplets glinting in the fluorescent overhead light and they both know what that means. If the walls of the staff bathroom could talk, they would need therapy as well.
At the sight of them, Robby stops dead in his tracks and frowns. “Jack?” After a moment his eyes flicker to Dennis, half a step behind him.
“Hey, man,” Jack says, proceeding with confidence. “Got a minute?”
Robby’s expression conveys a million different emotions per second. “Uh, no? Not if you’re not here to shoulder half the workload.” He huffs out a laugh that would convince absolutely nobody.
“Who says I’m not?” Jack counters easily.
“Your schedule. Last time I checked it.”
Jack doesn’t flinch. “You could say I was summoned.”
Again, Robby’s eyes move to Dennis. It is visible, the way he begins to put two and two together. “You… called him?”
He should have prepared for this. “Well… you seemed…”
“I seemed what?”
“Okay,” Jack interrupts. “Let’s find a quiet place.” He glances around before announcing, “The family room. Or is somebody in there?”
“I don’t think so,” Dennis supplies, trying to speak above the nervous fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t particularly like the way that Robby is looking at him currently.
“Excellent.”
They hurry. Or Jack does and Dennis tries to keep up. Robby walks behind like a shadow gathering angry momentum. Once successfully inside, miraculously having not been interrupted by anyone, Robby rounds on them both. His voice is deceptively soft, vibrating at the edges:
“So would either of you like to tell me what’s going on?”
Jack, unperturbed, meets his gaze straight on, mercifully taking the burden off Dennis’ shoulders. “Well, it appears you need some rescuing from yourself.”
Robby’s brows lift, but not in a good way. His laugh is only a short exhale, fueled by incredulity. “Excuse me?”
Jack flashes a quick smile. “Come on, man. It’s not fair to play hospital lawsuit Risk without me.”
“Okay…” Robby’s wince is more annoyance than anything else. “I don’t have time for this. I need you to go home. And you…” Now he turns to Dennis. “I need you to go and do the job that you’re here to do, Dr. Whitaker.”
That hurts. There’s no way he can’t pretend that doesn’t drive something sharp through his heart. Instinct is screaming at him to retreat, but he forces his feet to stay glued to the spot just behind Jack. Forces himself to stay just ahead of the burning, squirming in his stomach.
“You seemed like you needed a break,” he dares, looking at Robby over Jack’s shoulder.
“I needed…?” Robby runs his hands over his head, messing up his hair, and his eyes narrow. His voice comes out all angles: “Let me tell you what I need. I need to finish this shift in peace without feeling like I’m being betrayed by the two people I–”
He stops short of saying it. Bites it back, it looks like. His lips form a forbidding line as he closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose. Anyone who doesn’t know him would maybe be impressed by this display of ostensibly regaining control.
There is a moment’s dense silence.
“Go home, Robby,” Jack says, finally. “Get some sleep.”
Robby’s smile is entirely humorless. “You’re telling me to leave mid-shift?”
“It’s not mid-shift,” Dennis corrects him, even as his insides get close to turning themselves inside out with it. He steps out from behind Jack. “There’s only a couple of hours or so left and…”
“Meaning, I’m going to stay until it’s done,” Robby shoots back at him sharply.
“But you’re arguing with patients. You need…” Dennis begins, like he is brave enough to keep going on about what it is that Robby needs.
Somewhat predictably, something ignites in Robby’s dark eyes. “I’ll tell you what I don’t need, hm? I do not need a fucking babysitter!”
It takes a lot and then some, but Dennis manages to stand his ground. “No,” he agrees and tries to make it conciliatory. He draws a deeper breath. “And I'm not. I'm your… boyfriend.”
It lands heavy and awkward between them.
Something near Robby’s mouth twitches and his brows draw together in a frown.
There is a horrible space of silence before Jack slowly turns to Dennis. Into his eyes has crept an appreciative – maybe even impressed – light and he gives Dennis a single, affirmative nod. “Damn right you are.”
While Jack returns his attention to Robby, Dennis feels the floor shift underfoot and heat crashes into his throat and neck. If Robby isn’t going home, Dennis himself is more than ready to volunteer. To properly deal with this new emotion that he can’t tell what it is precisely, but which oscillates between ocean-deep embarrassment and sanity-defiant daring. He wonders if he is imagining the faint ringing in his ears.
“…to do any of this!”
Awareness of his surroundings slams back into Dennis. Robby hasn’t moved but his voice has risen to an entirely new level and acquired a distressed edge: “This isn’t–”
“Robby. Robby.” Jack is fast. Grabs him by the shoulders. Seeks to catch his eye. “That’s enough. Do you hear me?” When he doesn’t find what he is searching for in Robby’s face, his voice sharpens the question into a clear command: “Do you hear me?”
Robby is shaking his head, only inches away from Jack’s. “Fuck you, Jack.”
“Okay, sure, whatever, but you’re going home with Dennis. Now.”
Dennis’ head jerks up.
“I’m gonna stay here,” Jack goes on, still fighting to maintain eye contact with Robby. “I’ll cover for you both and hand over to Shen when he comes in. I will see you at home.”
One by one, Dennis reluctantly – obediently – swallows his objections. If Jack is trusting him with this, he’s going to have to step up. Willing or not.
They try to make a discreet exit. At least that’s what Dennis presumes they are doing. Robby isn’t saying a word.
As they pass it, Dana looks up from her place under the board and meets his eye. He can’t be sure – he’s too nervous – but he thinks that maybe she mouths ‘Good job’ at him. And suddenly it doesn’t seem so strange that no one has bothered them since Jack got here.
¤¤¤
‘Home’ is Jack's apartment. It's closer to the hospital but here also are the grab bars in the bathroom and the plastic shower chair. Well, Dennis knows for a fact that there is a chair in Robby’s upstairs bathroom as well, but here are Jack's crutches and the wheelchair he somewhat reluctantly makes use of on the rare days when the crutches just don't cut it.
Robby is quiet. Most of the fight seems to have seeped out of him and Dennis doesn't really have to give any orders. He keeps his distance as Robby disappears without a word into the kitchen and then, after a while, into the bathroom. When he comes out, he is in only boxers and a white t-shirt.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“Uh…” Dennis hasn't undressed. Not if you don't want me to, he is about to say just as Robby walks past him.
“You should get some sleep,” Robby tells him, not even turning his head to ease the words’ way over his shoulder.
Dennis can do that on the couch though. There's no reason for why he should bother Robby unnecessarily. “You know, I can just…” he begins, but Robby stops and heaves a sigh. Uncertain, Dennis watches him from behind as he hangs his head. Shakes it a little.
“Just come to bed.”
Dennis hasn't signed a contract. He's free to leave if he wants to. He can tell Robby to go to bed, get out of here and message Jack and say that he did his best. Nobody is forcing him to explore what it is like to be in a situationship with two middle-aged men who both suffer from varying degrees of psychological and emotional damage.
He joins Robby in bed, but keeps to one side. It's a big bed so that's relatively easy. Like Robby, he keeps his t-shirt on, and his underwear. They don't speak. The room is dark, courtesy of the evening and the blackout curtains.
As Dennis finds a relatively comfortable position – on his side with his back to Robby – he thinks that he won't be able to sleep. He is too worried still, too anxious about how Robby is going to view Dennis’ role in his life going forward. He wishes Jack were with them, to soak up some of the tension and make it into something that makes sense. He lies perfectly still for a while, simply listening to Robby’s breathing, before one breath blends into another and Dennis begins to drift.
¤¤¤
When he wakes, the lamp on Robby’s side has been turned on. He strains to hear, but there’s nothing. Reaching down to where he left his jeans on the floor, he finds his phone. It's only been an hour so no Jack yet, probably.
“Hey?”
He stills. Drops his phone onto his jeans. He turns around warily.
“Can’t sleep?” Robby asks. His voice is a tight band suspended over unwilling air. He is on his back, eyes closed.
“Yeah, I don't know why I woke up…” Dennis begins, but trails off when Robby shakes his head into the pillow.
“’Cause I screwed up.”
“What? No, no you just-“
“I'm sorry.”
There is a pause.
“What happened?” Dennis asks, carefully. His breathing is flimsy.
Robby tips his head to the side and his eyes open and there is pain there. “What happened is I was an asshole to you.”
Dennis has no idea what to do with that pain. “Yeah, well… I meant at work.”
Robby holds his gaze for a moment longer before he severs the connection in favor of staring up into the shadowed ceiling. “Nothing… really,” he says, and this time it comes out much weaker. “Everything? There were all these tiny bits and pieces that just… didn't gel.”
Biting his lip, Dennis experimentally lifts a hand to trace the seam of Robby’s t-shirt sleeve, over his bicep. Robby isn't ripped like Jack but it suits him, being a little softer around the physical edges. “Tell me?”
Robby audibly draws a breath. “It shouldn't have gotten to me but it did. That teenager who was more interested in his phone than listening to me. That guy who thought he could order Mohan and Princess around because they're women or not white or whatever… Whatever his fucking problem was…”
“Okay,” Dennis says quickly, pressing the pad of his thumb down a little into Robby’s arm, into the t-shirt. “That's bad.”
Robby draws another breath, shallow and stuttering. “I've seen worse.”
“Yeah, but…” This time, Dennis scoots closer and replaces his thumb with his mouth, leaving a kiss instead. “I think you're allowed to feel. To react, you know.”
“Not in the way I did.”
Dennis lifts his head to look at him. He weighs the moment. “That's why we got you home,” he says, finally, quietly.
There is tension in a hard line over Robby’s eyes. Even as Dennis watches, a couple of tears escape them and Robby’s chest lifts in a sharp intake of a breath. “Fuck.”
“No, it's okay,” Dennis promises him.
Robby rubs the heel of his hand over his face. At the tears. “You didn't sign up for this,” he says, and his voice is broken.
“To be fair, you didn't exactly come with an accompanying textbook… Neither of you,” Dennis says, chancing just a bit of levity. “No cheat sheets,” he adds while he's at it and his courage is up.
Robby’s laugh is a choked thing. At first he says nothing, but then he reaches across and buries his tear-stained hand in Dennis’ tousled curls. He brings him in and Dennis follows without second thought. He finds a new position, curled around Robby with his head on his shoulder. This one is infinitely better.
Robby thumbs his cheekbone, his skin a little rough against Dennis’. His breathing is calmer now.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers.
Dennis smiles. His own eyes are drifting closed. “It’s okay.”
¤¤¤
He is warmer when he wakes this time. His neck is stiff from him resting his head on Robby’s shoulder but the anxiety in the pit of his stomach is gone. Not really thinking, he presses a kiss to Robby’s chest and smiles when a hum greets that.
So he does it again, and underneath him Robby shifts his arm. Somehow (but it isn't so strange, not really) he gets Dennis to move as well, to half drape himself over Robby’s chest and, almost before Dennis realizes where they're headed, they are kissing.
It is soft and slow. Slow and deep. Dennis relishes the way Robby once again feels solid against him, is daring to be his whole self and not the Senior Emergency Attending Physician whose walls go up as soon as something darts between them to poke at his vulnerabilities. He curls his own arm around Robby’s head and holds him like this as they kiss.
Robby’s hands, for their part, begin to wander. They drag up Dennis’ sides, taking the t-shirt with them as they go, and, with a firm hold on either side of his rib cage, bring him down against Robby’s own chest. Their latest kiss ends with Robby kissing the corner of Dennis’ mouth and his voice is a rumble, honeyed promise over raspy need:
“I’d really like to fuck you.”
Forming words is tricky, but he succeeds: “I’d really like that, too.”
Robby’s chuckle against him is such a welcome thing. It releases any residual knots of tension in Dennis’ chest and for no particular reason, his cheeks warm. He likes being reminded like this: that Robby still finds him attractive, even now, a few months later, when the novelty of him must have worn off a bit. Or, screw ‘likes’, really. Secretly he loves it, draws near to cherishing it more often than not, because Robby (and Jack)…
Honestly, Dennis is impressed he's still an intact human being with functioning limbs and a working nervous system and arteries and stuff. It would have made much more sense for him to have transformed into a puddle in Esme’s bucket because he practically melts every time Robby shoots him a not-completely-work-related glance, or when, at the sight of Dennis, Jack's entire face softens in that way which is only a subtle shift but needs no words for clarification.
He is pretty sure he loves them.
Not that they've talked about that.
He loses this train of thought when one of Robby’s hands moves to press down lightly on his lower back. When his palm drags further down and his fingers sneak inside Dennis’ boxer briefs. With his other, Robby tilts Dennis’ head to the side so that he can nuzzle his ear and jaw. If they haven’t already, the scratch of his beard and the softness of his lips make fire come to life at the base of Dennis’ spine. He moans with it, doesn't at all hold that back like he did in the very beginning. And speaking of liking things, Robby really likes that.
“Feels good?” he murmurs against Dennis’ ear. With his fingertips, he explores the top of Dennis’ cleft, pressing down here as well. “Are you going to spread prettily for me? Open up and let me in?”
That's not saying Dennis has quite gotten the hang of dirty talk but he's getting there (he hopes). At least he's trying.
“Are you hard?” he manages now, relieved he doesn't need to look Robby in the eye while he says it.
A deep rumble runs through Robby at that. “You doubting me, kid?” he rasps, taking hold of the waistband of Dennis’ boxer briefs in an attempt to tug them downward. “You think I can't get it up? That I'm too old for that?”
Maybe that's his therapy. Verbalizing one of his fears like that – while he can be utterly confident that he has irrefutable evidence against it.
Again, Dennis lifts himself up to look into his face. Robby’s eyes are dark. Shining with lust and a vague desire to go beyond some undefined limit. It flares momentarily in Robby, that almost-rebellion against what is acceptable, Dennis has discovered, but it never truly blossoms. At the heart of it is the fact that Robby is too caring, he thinks, much too mindful of others’ experiences to push anyone else to the borders he will only explore himself. So Dennis kisses him, mind half unmoored already by the way Robby is stroking his ass cheeks, fighting the tight fit of his underwear.
The kiss drags in a lovely way, becomes a little sloppy and uncoordinated as Dennis finds the necessary courage to reach down and cup the promising bulge in Robby’s boxers. He palms it like Jack taught him to, Jack being of the opinion that he is the supreme Robby expert. And it's probably true, too; if anyone has an inkling about what goes through Robby’s mind when he appears to lose track of himself, it surely is Jack.
“Do that again…”
If nothing else, Robby’s tone of voice calls him back. It is low, halfway to commanding yet also sweet somehow. Like he was about to smile but was interrupted by his own pleasure and wants more. In awe, Dennis watches his face as he rubs his palm against the tip of Robby’s length. He is leaking through his boxers, dampening the fabric and making it slippery against Dennis’ palm.
Genuinely, Dennis loves all of this.
His family back home know nothing of course and he is not about to tell them. They don't even know he’s not entirely straight.
But it doesn't matter. He can deal with secrecy for now. For now, what matters is the way Robby breathes against him. Up, into him, chest to chest. The way Robby takes him firmly by the waist and rolls him over, spoons up behind him, relieves him of his boxer briefs while planting long, hungry kisses all over his cheek and behind his ear. The way Robby’s breaths become groans become words:
“You want me inside? You want my dick?”
“Yes,” Dennis says. Not breathless. Not needy, not whiny. Not squeaking, wringing the last of his confidence from his heart. No, he dares to push back. Leans back into Robby’s soft-hard, broad frame, twists his head around and tries to catch his eye. “Yes. I want you.”
In Robby’s gaze something brews at the very bottom and Dennis has seen that before. It's a ‘Really?’.
As Dennis holds steady, Robby’s face changes. A softness settles around his eyes. There is a shy fondness in his smile as he dips his head and bumps their noses together. “I'll prep you,” he whispers, warmed by the incredulity, perhaps.
Dennis’ heart sings.
Robby only needs a moment to fetch the condoms and the lube. Because they’re still using condoms. They haven’t really talked about that either even though Dennis is certainly not seeing anybody else and he knows that Jack has begun donating blood again. But in a weird way it feels like an almost too intimate conversation to instigate… thinks the person who today threw the word ‘boyfriend’ out there. He wishes he could take that back.
“You okay?”
The bedroom reshapes itself around him. The bed dips as Robby settles behind him again. Runs a hand down his arm.
“Yeah,” he says, while trying to get a grip on himself. He twists his head back, brings forth a smile and pours as much conviction as he can muster into it. “Yeah.”
Robby gathers him close. With one hand he caresses Dennis' side, his hip, shoulder and upper arm. He leaves more kisses along Dennis’ hairline and over his temple. It makes his skin prickle in the best way. Robby moves against him as well, hips bucking mildly, making his hard dick push against Dennis’ ass. Apparently, he’s gotten rid of his own underwear as well.
“You feel so good,” Robby murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”
When his hand returns it is slick with lube. Robby takes a moment to briefly cup Dennis’ hip bone – times it with a small thrust of his hips that drives his length into Dennis’ cleft – before he drifts his hand further down and finally finds Dennis’ own length.
He is not nearly as big as Robby, but neither is Jack so Dennis has resolved to not think too long about that. It's odd, though, how he sort of keeps forgetting about his own, well, dick when he's in bed with them. It's not that he can't get hard (oh, he gets hard) but, honestly, if he were forced to choose, he’d take cuddling and snuggling over sex any day of the week.
That isn't to say the sex isn't a welcome component. The Good Lord knows Dennis couldn't even make sense of it in the beginning. How, with Robby and Jack, he felt like he was both breaking apart and finding himself at the same time. The way they touched him – like there was no reason to think twice about what they were doing. The way they would talk to him. Cover him in words and sentences that made him blush, head to toe. How there was more laughter than he could ever have anticipated as one of them accidentally dropped the lube and they had to search under the bed, or when Jack’s leg started cramping or how a series of grueling shifts in the ER ended up draining them to the point when none of them could really get it up. It was a side of sex Dennis hadn’t really been aware of existed, but he genuinely loves that, too.
Robby strokes him firmly. Dennis arches back against him on a moan.
“That’s it, baby,” Robby murmurs in the voice Dennis never hears outside of sex and the words sink into his skin unhindered. Deep, through fat and fascia, muscles and blood and nerves and bone. “I’m gonna get you ready for me. All pliant and welcoming, yeah?”
His vision blurs as Robby rubs the sensitive spot just underneath the crown. Rubs over the leaking slit at the tip. Reaching out, Dennis fumbles for the edge of the bed, tries to locate it, knows he’s going to need something to hold on to before this is over. Robby coaxes more moans from him and a series of sounds that fall somewhere between ‘Oh’ and ‘Ah’. It doesn’t matter which one he comes closest to.
“All right…” With a messy kiss to the juncture of his jaw, Robby decisively pushes Dennis’ top leg forward. He helps enough by bending it at the knee. Behind him, Robby shifts again – shifts away a little – and then slick fingers are ghosting over Dennis’ opening, making him instinctively clench the muscle.
“You gotta relax,” Robby murmurs. It’s tilting towards hoarse now. His breathing is labored against Dennis’ back, warm breath fanning out over his cheek. “Can you do that for me, baby? Just relax.”
“Mm,” Dennis manages, eyes screwed so tightly shut now that he’s sure nothing could get him to open them. There is always that initial frisson of apprehension. He knows they’d never deliberately hurt him, but the first finger hurts anyway, and maybe he fears that this time it will be enough for him to back away. And he doesn’t want that. He wants to stay.
My God, he wants to stay.
But Robby fingers him carefully, just fingertips to begin with. Exploring gently, pushing only a tiny bit. Then he adds more lube and after Dennis has gotten his breathing reasonably under control, one single digit begins to circle the rim, navigating the furled skin and sending sparks into Dennis’ hips. By the time Robby pushes a first fingertip inside, Dennis is relaxed enough to be able to handle it.
“Oh, yeah…” Robby says, low and affirming. He leans in, drops a new kiss to Dennis’ cheek and then stays like this, forehead against his head. “That’s where I want to be.”
Gradually, the world narrows down to Robby getting him ready. To the way he pushes the finger deeper inside, to the first knuckle, to the second, and, despite everything, Dennis winces at the sting and the burn. He is so warm – they both are – and he regrets having not pulled off his t-shirt before they began but it’s too late now because Robby is rotating his finger inside him ever so carefully and it makes him want to practically whine.
“Fuck,” he mutters instead, but it’s really more of a torn exhale than anything else.
Behind him, Robby chuckles, a little breathlessly. And he makes the most of the moment, takes advantage of the rush of reaction through Dennis’, to nudge a second finger in. It’s slippery-soft and devastatingly addictive and, yes, still somewhat painful, but the positives are far outweighing the negatives here and Dennis completely stops checking himself.
“That’s good,” he mumbles.
He is rewarded with another kiss to his cheekbone. “Wait till you have my cock up your ass,” Robby promises him, and this is somehow the same man that also teaches him how to save lives in a clinical setting on a daily basis.
By the time Robby has worked three fingers into him, Dennis’ t-shirt is plastered to his back and his own moans are filling the bedroom. Robby’s breathing has sped up significantly and his movements are slightly more erratic, the border to desperate coming into view. Dennis’ own cock is pounding, probably leaking profusely and leaving wet patches on the sheet. But he needs his hand for other things because now Robby pulls his fingers out and suddenly the blunt latex-covered head of a dick is pushing at his loose opening.
Robby’s voice has been reduced to an unsteady vibration in the air: “I need to fuck you… I need to fuck you so much.”
Frantically, Dennis nods into his own pillow. There is a strong inwards-upwards pull within, from his asshole and up into his hips. Throwing his arm out, he takes hold of the edge of the bed – as blatant an invitation as any. “Want your dick,” he says, cheeks burning.
“You’re gonna get it, darling.”
It’s amazing. Also, on some distant level – for some unspecified reason – kind of terrifying, but mostly it’s amazing. Dennis lets himself be filled – little by little, inch by inch. Excruciatingly, mesmerizingly slowly.
“Fuck,” Robby groans, and it’s fire against Dennis’ face. “You’re so tight, baby…”
By the time he has slid all they way inside, they are both trembling. Robby holds still, though, holds on to Dennis and holds still to allow his body to adjust. His kisses are sloppy, tickly things and land wherever: hair, ear, cheek. It's only when the bed dips in an entirely unexpected way that Dennis realizes they are no longer alone and he surfaces enough to hear Jack murmur:
“Now this is a sight to come home to.”
It slithers through him, hot and sticky: awareness of the fact that they are being observed. Not that it’s the first time but Dennis hasn’t quite gotten over the sensation yet. Jack likes to watch, he knows by now. He likes to participate, too, but he has a certain taste for watching Robby fuck Dennis. He isn’t sure why, really, Dennis, because he isn’t much to look at. It’s not like he has Jack’s physique or Robby’s conflicted layers of kindness and surprisingly feral hunger. Dennis is just… Dennis, and that–
Robby rolls his hips and chases a barely half-formed inhale from his lungs. He hears his own moan on the tail-end of it. Robby’s arm holds him close and Robby’s breaths are over his hair and skin and Robby…
Robby, Robby, Robby…
“Look at you… taking him so deep.”
And Jack.
Flames lick their way across Dennis’ face as Jack caresses it gently. The back of Jack’s hand, knuckles light over his damp forehead and temple and cheek.
“You’re so beautiful like this.”
It feels to Dennis like he's been given renewed permission to breathe. Behind him, Robby says something he does not catch because it is timed with another thrust and Dennis’ mind goes blank for a second. On the other side of it, he thinks he can feel Robby’s chest expanding with a shaky laugh.
“You’re both so beautiful,” Jack amends, and Dennis is pretty sure he is smiling. Then Jack’s touch travels downwards, down Dennis’ shoulder and his hip and finds a way to sneak in under his top leg and suddenly Jack is fisting him. “This good for you?”
Dennis groans. Robby is picking up a rhythm now, pushing his hard dick into Dennis and Dennis’ straining length into Jack’s hand, and somehow Jack makes excellent do despite the weird angle. Between them, Dennis is surely burning up and shifting his leg and releasing the edge of the bed to give Jack better access is a tall order but he manages and is rewarded with Jack’s hoarse appreciation:
“That’s it, baby. Love feeling you hard like this.”
From behind, Robby fills him up. Grunts and groans into him. The bed moves with them and maybe they should be concerned about that but none of them can be bothered right now.
“Still so tight,” Robby mutters, arm strong and heavy around Dennis’ chest. Just a slight slur to his voice. “Can you feel my dick?” He thrusts again, teetering on the edge of frantic but never reckless. “I’m gonna come so deep inside you.”
Dennis wants to cry. Not because something is wrong but because it’s the complete opposite. It’s some form of instinct that runs parallel with feeling like he is being valued so highly. He tries to grind back, to give Robby even more, but he fails to pair that with his need to also push into Jack’s hand and so, in the end, he allows them to govern him as they prefer. And, finally, at Jack's groan, his eyes flicker open.
Jack is fisting himself. Has wrapped his skillful fingers around his own thick cock and is working himself just like he is Dennis. The vision swoops through Dennis, makes the rushing waters of arousal sizzle on the surface like they're actually lava. He wants to say something, to express at least a tiny bit of all that he is feeling, but just then Robby pulls back and pushes back in and his angle is perfect and it is an earthquake-level pulse through Dennis and, with it, he comes.
The whole fucking universe feels like it's coming. Robby is plastered to his back, grinding into him like there’s no tomorrow while Jack pumps his dick as if his life is depending on it. Dennis shakes, his breathing scorching on the inside and his entire front being flooded with liquid fire. The pressure, the leap, the free fall all last forever until they eventually don't and he gradually comes back down to earth.
Robby is leaving a cluster of kisses behind his ear. Jack is smiling.
“Still with us?” he asks, eyes remarkably soft as he looks down at Dennis.
“Mm,” he manages, tongue mostly feeling like an unwieldy, foreign object in his mouth.
“Took me with you, kid,” Robby murmurs. “You felt so good.”
Felt or feel?
It is overanalyzing to be sure, but still a pinprick of anxiety in the otherwise blissful aftermath.
He shoves it aside. Instead, focuses on the way Robby is still holding on to him, still keeping him molded against his larger frame. As soon as everything simmers down, Dennis could fall asleep like this, probably.
“Hey, you just gonna leave me hanging?”
Jack looks more amused than anything. Even so, a writhing embarrassment wakes in Dennis’ stomach. Jack has released Dennis’ length and is now fisting only himself, has fallen back into a leisurely pace.
“Uh, no…” Dennis says, but he really doesn't know in which direction he should be steering.
Behind him, though, Robby lifts himself up a little. “Here we go,” he says, and carefully slips out of Dennis. “Why don't you give me a minute and then we'll take care of that,” he says to Jack, and suddenly realities become flimsy tissue paper layered on top of each other and Robby could just as well be an attending addressing a patient.
Jack, however, smirks. “I'm on my best behavior.”
Robby doesn’t say anything in response but he gives in to a small smile before he rolls out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom in only his battered t-shirt.
Dennis hesitates. Then he pushes himself up to sit as well. He feels unsettlingly adrift.
“You, um, want me to…?” he stumbles, glancing down into Jack's lap.
“All in good time,” says Jack, and his even tone makes Dennis look up again. In the warm light of the bedside lamp, his eyes appear a shade darker than normal. “You doing all right?”
That was not what he had expected. “Well, I just…”
Came?
Down below, Jack's hand stops moving. He keeps holding Dennis’ gaze like he's trying to read his thoughts. “Everything was okay after you left the hospital?”
“Yeah…” he says. He had almost forgotten. He can hear the water running in the bathroom. “Yeah, no, it was fine. We talked some. I mean, not much, but… he told me he was sorry and… that things had just… gotten confused, I guess.”
Jack acknowledges this with an almost imperceptible nod. “You did good today.”
Somehow, coming from Jack, it means more than he could ever describe. And it makes him unsure of where to look. Not that it matters since Jack is still requiring all his attention.
“You did most of the work,” Dennis deflects, and it's on a tight exhale.
“But not all of it,” Jack says. Briefly, his eyes narrow but then his serious expression cracks in favor of a small, dangerous smile and a new gleam comes into his eye. “Boyfriend,” he adds, almost in a purr, before leaning in and joining their mouths together.
Dennis capitulates instantaneously. Not that he was fighting to begin with. Jack kisses him lazily, tongue taking its sweet time to explore his mouth. All by themselves, Dennis’ hands move to his thighs and suddenly he is taking over, his own hand reaching Jack’s dick and beginning to stroke. He focuses on the head where the skin is still slippery with precome, takes it between thumb and forefinger, rubs lightly at the frenulum and nearly dissolves when Jack moans into his mouth. The kiss deepens – maybe Dennis is responsible for that, too – and he’s much too wrapped up in this for to pay attention to what is going on around him, because when Robby’s palm moves over his hair, he starts.
“Hush,” Robby murmurs, and his fingers keeps moving, caressing Dennis’ hair, tracing a line from the base of his skull and in under his ear. “You’re so sexy like this.”
And it feels like this could go on forever (Dennis wouldn’t complain) but before he quite understands what is happening, the kiss is ending and Jack is tugging Dennis’ t-shirt over his head. Then Robby is there as well, eyeing Jack. “Do you want to lie down?”
“Later. Can’t be bothered with the leg.”
“Okay.”
It’s like some secret language – or perhaps Dennis is still somewhat dazed.
Jack is getting to his feet, circling the bed while Robby joins Dennis upon it. Robby kneels, then sits back on his haunches and proceeds to pull Jack back in by his hips. And as if he knows there rises an imminent threat of Dennis feeling redundant, Jack’s eyes lock with his over Robby’s head.
“Find the lube,” he suggests, and though there is some playfulness to it, he mostly looks ready to finally shed his layers, too, and unravel.
Dennis’ attention becomes divided. Honestly, he only half-heartedly searches for the lube while he’s really staring at the way Robby takes Jack into his mouth. At the way Jack’s head falls back. At how a long breath escapes him. He is burying his fingers in Robby’s hair, holding on or guiding or both, just like Robby is holding him by the hips, staying impulses or encouraging movement. And Dennis… Dennis wants to be between them, he realizes. Wedged between them like this. Just… present. In their lives and between their bodies.
He comes up with the lube just as Jack lets go of a groan and the nature of it suggests Robby is sucking him in deep. And Robby makes noises too, surely sending ripples through Jack’s entire body. Dennis has no idea what they want the lube for so he just keeps watching them: the backwards-forwards sway and how Robby eventually takes Jack by the base to hold him steadier.
“So good,” Jack mutters, without opening his eyes. Then, “Dennis… you can stretch him.”
He can what?
His stomach folds in on itself. He opens his mouth. Closes it again as his gaze tumbles down to the tube of lube in his hand. Very, very slowly it makes the journey to Robby’s backside… frankly, extremely accessible now in his current position.
“Go on,” Jack says, His eyes have opened just a fraction. “I promise he’ll like it.”
Maybe he’s wrong. Jack cannot always be right about everything. No human being can.
Maybe Dennis is about to say something along those lines when Robby suddenly reaches back towards him. He doesn’t stop sucking Jack off, but he fumbles blindly in the air behind him and it takes Dennis a century, at least, to understand that he’s trying to pull Dennis in as well. Like he wants to let Dennis know that he’s agreeing with Jack.
It’s daunting. To say the least.
He almost drops the lube – twice – while he coats his fingers. He is sitting directly behind Robby now, could almost bury his face in the spot between his shoulder blades. He is indescribably grateful that they don’t see the way his hand is trembling as he – biting down on the tip of his tongue – forces himself to press a first, slick fingertip to Robby’s entrance. And that is… Oh, God have mercy, it turns out Dennis loves that.
Robby is extremely tight. Is burning hot. Starts himself when Dennis rubs carefully at the furled skin. But doesn’t shake him off. Jack is saying something again, but it had better be nothing important because Dennis has no extra brain cell to spare, but it sounds like approval anyway.
And, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck the way Robby sinks down as Dennis dares to breach his body. Why hasn't anybody taken the time to inform him that fingering another man is all he ever wanted? Okay, not all, but… close to, honestly. Today, at least.
And now he leans in, really does bury his face in Robby’s t-shirt that smells of sweat but it doesn't matter. He even wraps an arm around Robby’s waist and his heart soars as he is rewarded with an appreciative hum. He pushes his finger, the middle one, in deeper and veritably drinks down the tremor that runs through Robby in response.
Dennis' head fills with a buzz. It inserts itself between his thoughts and turns them fuzzy. Before them, Jack’s moans are coming more often, back-to-back, tripping over themselves in a hurry to get out.
He adds a second finger, having no idea what he’s doing but learning that the road to too much lube is very long indeed. Robby doesn't complain, though. He is still diligently working Jack's cock with his mouth, but it feels like he's also present with Dennis. Still herding his flock, or something.
“Fuck.” That is Jack, and now Robby is clearly swallowing, and Dennis knows what that is like.
Stubbornly, through Jack’s release, Dennis holds on. Not a single one of all the confused fibers in his body is telling him to let go. Robby’s ass is clenching around his fingers and Jack is gripping Robby’s shoulders, head tipped forward. The sound of their intermingled breathing is ringing in the bedroom.
All good things do come to an end, however, and after a while they begin to untangle.
“Hey…” Robby’s eyes are ever so slightly searching when they meet Dennis’. “You need to wash your hands but… come back afterwards?”
What world does he even live in where Dennis wouldn't?
He tries to make quick work of it but nonetheless wants to be thorough. When he returns to the bedroom, he finds both Robby and Jack seated. Jack on the edge, having still not removed any item of clothing or his prosthesis. They are talking in low voices. Or Jack is. Robby, it appears, is mostly watching him, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
For his part, Dennis would ideally like to put his underwear back on. Unsure of what is scheduled to happen next, he takes a cautious seat to Robby’s right where there’s tons of empty space. Now there is silence between all three of them and there is tension as well, thickening the air and making it harder to breathe.
“Well?” Jack says, at long last. It's gentle enough, but not entirely free of expectation.
A breath escapes Robby. It sounds painful and his shoulders twitch with it. Dennis’ pulse picks up a faster, unnerving beat.
“We were saying…” Jack prompts.
Robby shakes his head. Runs a hand over his face and then drops it back into his lap. His vice has cracked. “I guess sometimes I need the reminder that…”
Jack is watching him intently. “You’re not alone,” he says, with a quiet sharpness. “We got you.”
Then he settles his hand firmly on Robby’s neck and brings him in for a kiss.
It looks fragile. Robby’s hair is messy and his t-shirt desires an immediate appointment with the washing machine. He looks like he needs to sleep for a week, at minimum.
He one of the most beautiful men Dennis has ever seen.
The kiss lingers. It slows and slows and slows down until their lips are barely touching. Their eyes are closed. Jack's other hand has ended up on Robby’s knee. Unmoving. Another anchor he can offer, possibly.
Dennis feels… not like an outsider, per se, and not really like a spectator either. Just… a fraction removed. He doesn't doubt that they want him, but he can’t really judge in which capacity. He is drawing nearer to making the decision to get up when Robby suddenly moves and the kiss finally ends.
The pain is still there, swimming in the depths of Robby’s brown eyes, but it is less acute now. And Dennis’ heart takes a twirl in his breast when Robby slips an arm around his waist and brings him close. He accepts without reservation, molds as best he can against Robby’s side and turns his face to nuzzle the spot behind his ear. He simply cannot help himself, is the honest truth. But Robby’s faint chuckle reverberates through him and the hold on him strengthens.
Jack gives them a moment, but soon enough he begins to stroke Dennis’ hair and, with a firmer touch, urges him to resurface. When Dennis meets his gaze, he looks serious.
“Thank you,” he says, and while it’s not entirely clear what he means it is also exactly that.
Then, with his thumb, Jack strokes his cheek. His expression makes it evident that he's thinking hard but Dennis is not going to ask about what. It'll be made clear eventually, he suspects, if Jack needs it to be.
Like this, Robby drops a kiss to Dennis’ forehead. Strengthens his hold on him further. He speaks ever quieter than Jack:
“Please forgive me.”
“’Course,” Dennis says, in response to them both, perhaps.
Jack watches him intently for another fluttering heartbeat or two, but then the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction in the beginning of a smile. This time when he leans in, he kisses Dennis.
I love you.
Maybe next time.
Maybe next time he'll work up the courage to finally say it. Dennis, that is.
Or Jack.
Or maybe even Robby.