Work Text:
Buzzing. Fucking buzzing is all Robby heard as he sat at the nurses' station, playing catch-up on his backlog of charts. He slammed his pen down on the counter, turning around to find Dana writing notes in a patient tablet.
"When is the fucking pest control guy getting here, Dana?"
"Traffic is slowing down everything, Cap," Dana called. "Could be a while."
Robby swore under his breath, stealing a glance at the ED's entrance. A few of them had escaped past the automatic doors, making Robby flinch.
"This is ridiculous," Robby grumbled, typing with a little more force than necessary. He was a grown man, for fucks sake. And they were bees. They were harmless.
Until they weren't, his mind supplied unhelpfully. He shuddered thinking about those stingers, the swarms… fuck, he should've never watched The Hunger Games with Jack that one night—
"Are you okay, Dr. Robby?"
Robby's eyes land on the resident, his strong hands fiddling with a pen as he walks up to the station, the confident stride a welcome change from last year. It was welcome, but unnerving. His energy drew Robby in from the very beginning, but this newfound sureness in himself made this … crush Robby had on him that much worse. Besides the whole, liking your co-worker/resident situation.
"Fine, Whitaker. The bees… are just annoying," he took a deep breath, standing up from the computer. Charting could wait. "And unsafe for patients."
Whitaker looked around, as if he couldn't hear the loud buzzing coming from outside. "Bees? Where?"
Robby raised his eyebrows, accidentally letting out an incredulous laugh. "Are you being serious? Right outside!" He waved frustratedly to the entrance, rubbing a hand down his face.
Whitaker furrowed his brows, then took a few steps to look out the glass doors. He hummed. "Sorry, sir, I didn't realize. I'm used to the buzzing."
That at least made Robby smile — at work! He could count how many times he's smiled at work this week on one hand. And recently, Whitaker seemed to be the only one on the receiving end of them. "Yeah, you have a lot of bees in your apartment with Santos?"
Whitaker shrugged, fiddling with the end of his stethoscope while he filled out a medication order on a patient tablet. "No, not in the apartment, there's actually a community apiary a couple of blocks away from us. That's where I put the hives I find."
"The.. hives?"
He looked up from his tablet warily, but it was like he couldn't fight the giddy grin spreading on his face.
"Yeah, I relocate beehives on the weekends for extra cash. Go to people's houses or stores, take the hives and bring them somewhere safe, that sort of thing."
It was then that Dana decided to roll up to the pair, looking at them over her glasses, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. Robby couldn't believe someone sliding around in a rolling chair could look intimidating, but he should've known better than to underestimate Dana.
"What's this I hear about you killing bees?" She marched up to him, phone held against her ear. "Yeah, uh-huh, I'm still here. Well, you said you'd be here two hours ago!" She sighed, hanging up the phone.
"I don't kill them, I transfer them to a—"
And you're just telling us this… now?" Dana interrupted him, dumbfounded, glancing at her watch. "At 5 pm? After I've been on the phone with pest control all day?"
Dennis sputtered out a laugh, gesturing to the waiting room doors. "I've been in Chairs since I got here, I haven't been on this side all morning!"
Robby nodded, wincing as Dana shot a glare in his direction. He held his hands up.
"How was I supposed to know?"
Dennis looked between the two, tucking his pen into his front pocket, realization dawning on his face. "Oh! You want me to…"
"Get the bees, kill them, move them to an all-inclusive bee resort, I don't care, just get them out of the hospital!" Dana sighed, turning around to receive an incoming trauma. One paramedic was holding their arm, another wincing as she touched her neck. Robby turned back to Whitaker, wringing his hands.
"I'm sure you don't even have the proper —"
"I left my gear in my truck from a job I had this weekend— I can grab it," Whitaker nodded, looking more determined. He took off his stethoscope and nametag, stashing them behind the nurses' station. He was off before Robby could protest, passing Dr. Santos, who looked at him with confusion.
"What are you doing?"
"Saving the bees!" Whitaker hollered behind him, doing a tiny fist bump that made Robby's chest tighten, and he dragged his hand over his face to hide his widening smile.
***
Robby tried to corral everyone away from the ED doors because, for fucks sake, this was still a hospital. Nonetheless, human curiosity got the best of his staff — and even some patients. They were all taking turns watching Dennis from the inside, oohing and aahing every time Whitaker even moved.
"Alright, that's it," Robby sighed from his computer. He groaned as he stood, walking over to the doors and waving away Dr. Javadi, who was recording the process, and Dr. King, her eyes wide with fascination. "Patients to see, people to heal, all that."
"Sorry, sir," Javadi blushed, pocketing her phone. "It's just… I would never in a million years expect Dr. Whitaker to do something like this."
As she shuffled away, Robby turned to peer out the window. Dennis had put on a sweatshirt, despite the blazing summer heat. Robby assumed it was for some form of protection. Don't beekeepers have those bee suits, the ones with the big nets on the face? He fidgeted with his stethoscope, just to put some of his nervous energy somewhere. He didn't even know why he was nervous; he wasn't the one out there with the bees. Was he nervous because Dennis was out there with them? That's reasonable, though. Any decent attending would be concerned about their staff's safety. It was normal.
What wasn't normal, though, was how long he was looking at the sweat dripping down Whitaker's face as he sprayed the hive with smoke. He set the can down, then picked up a wooden frame from a box on the ground — his emergency bee-keeping stuff, he assumed. There was already some honeycomb tied to the frame, and Robby noticed there was a chunk missing from the corner of the overhang. He watched as Dennis assessed the rest of the hive and the crevice in the overhang that was still covered in bees. It wasn't that different from the way he assessed patients. Calculated, concerned, warm. It made Robby feel hot, and he wasn't even out in the heat.
He sucked in a breath as Dennis just.. scooped up a handful of bees. With his bare hands. No gloves. He couldn't help but knock on the glass, throwing his hands up in confusion when Dennis looked up, bees still in hand.
What the fuck? Robby mouthed, gesturing to the insane picture in front of him. Dennis just shook his head, gave him a thumbs up, and gently shook his hand at the frame. Bees spilled into the box, as if Whitaker had just shaken some sand into it rather than live insects.
The tap on the glass interrupted Robby's observation, and he looked up into Dennis' blue eyes, alight with passion, an almost childlike wonder. He reached into the box and produced a clear clip, presenting it to Robby. A singular bee was trapped inside.
Queen, Dennis mouthed, grinning. Robby couldn't help but smile back.
"Robinavitch, we need you in Central 10!"
***
By the time Robby had sent his patient up to the OR — the guy fell off his roof while cleaning out his gutters, yeesh — handoffs had begun. Shen and Dr. King were discussing a case she had earlier in the day that was still awaiting lab results, Dr. Ellis was talking with Dr. Santos (hopefully about work), and Jack was spinning around in the chair at the nurses' station while Dana glared at him.
"Brother, go do something before she pops a blood vessel," Robby sighed, slipping his tablet into its correct slot. He glanced up at the board, arms crossed.
"I was actually waiting for you," Jack said as he stood, mirroring Robby's stance but staring him down. Now it was Robby's turn to glare. "I already did rounds."
"Oh, and to what do I owe the pleasure?" Robby tilted his head, his words coming out more sardonically than he meant to.
He just wanted to go home. Besides the bees, things were pretty standard this shift — no mass casualties, no fires to put out. The only time it really picked up was when there was a pileup on the freeway near them, but even then, his team handled it well. Still, he was exhausted, the kind of tired that settled deep in your bones.
Was it because he'd spent the last hour of his shift constantly checking the ED entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dennis outside? Of his skilled hands, maneuvering these dangerous — but admittedly, beautiful — creatures? Was it because he'd been thinking about Whitaker's eyes, the way he lit up with passion as he worked? He'd only ever seen that from him after a successful code or procedure, and who was he kidding, he loved that face. There was no hiding it now; he was pretty sure everyone in the department knew — hell, even Whitaker probably knew and would be filing an HR complaint any day now.
"Just wanted to get the scoop on that situation," Jack nodded to the doors, and Robby turned his head on instinct. The hive was fully moved, and Dennis had taken off his sweatshirt, his black scrubs sticking to his skin. He worked to secure the wooden frames inside the box, muscles contracting and releasing in a way that made Robby's mouth water. In all his years in medicine, he's never seen muscles like that. Well, maybe he has, and it was the person they were attached to that was making his breath catch.
"Yeah," Robby replied. He blinked, catching himself — it was too late, though. Jack had an evil smirk painted on his face that Robby wanted to punch off. "Shut the fuck up."
"I didn't say anything!" Jack cackled, raising his hands in defense — because yes, they were children and Robby did try to punch him. Just the arm, though; he wasn't completely unprofessional. Dana swatted at him as she passed, tablet in hand and glare over her glasses, muttering under her breath.
"You thought it, I know you did," Robby leaned against the counter, head in his hands. "I'm so fucked."
"You are, brother," Jack sighed, picking up a tablet. "But I don't think you're the only one."
That made Robby perk up, and Jack gestured to the door. Robby turned, and Dennis was giving him a dopey smile, beckoning him outside. Robby shot a look at Jack, who patted him on the back as he headed toward a patient room. Robby took a deep breath, using the time it took him to grab his bag from behind the nurses' station to steel his nerves. He nodded at Whitaker, making his way over to the door.
"Is it done?" He asked, cautiously peeking his head through the opening and clutching his backpack strap. He saw a few stragglers buzzing around outside the box, but it was a handful of feet away, nowhere near the entrance anymore.
"Yup, they're all moved," Dennis said proudly, hands on his hips. Robby regretted moving closer to the man because he got to see up close the sweat clinging to his body — and fuck, it was like he read his mind when he pulled the bottom of his scrub top up to wipe his face, revealing his surprisingly toned stomach. Not bad surprising, Robby knew that the man filled out rather nicely since moving to Pittsburgh—
"Dr. Robby?"
"Yes? Yeah, what were you saying?" Robby asked, realizing too late that Dennis' lips had been moving. Then, he realized he'd been staring at the man's stomach.
Dennis grinned. "Do you mind standing out here so I can grab my stuff and clock out? To make sure no one goes near it?"
Robby glanced at the box, a sliver of anxiety that was instantly squashed the minute that he locked eyes with Dennis again. Hell, he would get in the box with the bees if it meant that Dennis would look at him with that smile.
"Of course."
While Dennis was back inside, Robby inched closer to the box, studying it. Upon closer inspection, it just looked like a regular old wooden crate, save for the soft hum of buzzing coming from the inside. He picked up the silver can he saw Dennis use, turning it around in his hands. It looked like a messed-up watering can — the nozzle long like a funnel, an accordion-looking thing attached to the back. It seemed annoying to have smoke blown at you in your own home, but the bees didn't seem to mind when he saw Dennis use the tool.
"It helps calm them down," he heard from the entryway, and Robby almost dropped the thing in alarm, but managed not to make a fool out of himself this time. Dennis grinned, gesturing to the silver can.
"It's a smoker. It masks their alarm pheromones, makes them easier to handle." Dennis gently took it out of his hand and dumped it in his backpack, like it was a totally normal item one might put in their work bag.
"Where'd you learn to do all this?"
Dennis shrugs, zipping up his backpack. He'd changed into some loose jeans and a white t-shirt that made Robby's mouth water. "We had a couple of hives on the farm back home for honey, and I was the only one in my family that never got stung, so it became my chore," Dennis chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulders. "I got kind of obsessed with it, and when I matched here, the first thing I looked for was apiaries in Pittsburgh," Robby noticed, since he didn't have his stethoscope around his neck, Dennis took to fiddling with his bag straps. "Apiaries are the places where people relocate beehives, like on a rooftop or in a field."
"Are there any around here?" Robby asked, the desire for Dennis to keep talking rumbling low in his gut.
"Yeah, there's a lot actually!" Dennis perks up, the eager light returning to his eyes once again. "The airport actually has one of the largest airport-based apiaries in the country. I've always wanted to go visit. But, there's a lot of really good community apiaries that I relocate the hives I rescue to."
"That's awesome," Robby said, genuinely. He doesn't remember the last time he met someone who had a genuine, raw passion outside of medicine, and it was refreshing. And hot.
He would need to unpack that later. In his bed. Maybe with no clothes on.
"Do you want to come see it?" Dennis asked hesitantly, and Robby waved him off.
"I couldn't, I would get in the way—"
"Not a chance," Dennis insisted, then leveled him with a look, tilting his head in challenge. "Unless you're scared, Dr. Robby."
And that is how Robby ended up sitting in the passenger seat of Dennis Whitaker's beat-up blue Ford with a crate full of bees in the back.
***
It was a good thing they were mostly on city roads, because Dennis was cruising at a steady thirty miles per hour the whole way to the apiary. Robby must've been giving him one too many side glances — and yes, on account of the speed, thank you very much — because Dennis assured him that his slow driving was solely for the gigantic beehive in the back of his truck.
"Sometimes they can break up in the box, or get agitated if it gets tossed around too much," Dennis explained, elbow against the open window, one hand gesturing outside and the other on the wheel. Summer looked good on Dennis, Robby noticed. His golden brown hair glistened in the setting sun, the t-shirt hugging his biceps, sweat on his brow. It was all a part of his country boy look, a part of Dennis. If Robby got to see this every day after work, he would die a happy man.
"Shit, sorry, you can tell me to shut up at any time, you know," Dennis made a soft turn into a small parking lot for a cluster of condos and apartment buildings. "Santos says I tend to ramble when it comes to this stuff," he gestured to the bed of his truck, hand traveling to scratch the back of his neck. "We can make this quick, it won't be too—"
"I love it."
Shit.
"What?"
"I mean," Robby turned in his seat, managing to meet Dennis' eyes despite the reddening of his cheeks. "I love hearing about other people's passions outside of work," Robby chuckled," Hell, I listened to Dr. King talk about her newest crochet project for thirty minutes yesterday."
Dennis gave him a shy smile and nodded, "Okay, good." It seemed like there was something else he was fighting to say, but he opened his door and hopped out, gesturing for Robby to follow. He grabbed the sweatshirt he was wearing previously and shoved it back over his head. Robby mourned the loss of his muscles, but he conceded that the clothing was for his protection.
Dennis fished out something else from his backseat, something white and plastic-y, and handed it to Robby. "Put this on."
He got busy opening the tailgate, then glanced back at Robby holding up the bee suit and grinned. "You don't want to get stung, do you?"
Robby shook his head, then got to work. It was easy enough to get into, almost like stepping into a big plastic onesie. He felt kind of ridiculous, but he figured it was better than the alternative. Dennis rummaged around the backseat again, producing what could only be described as a cylindrical mesh hat and a regular pair of brown work gloves.
"I put that on my head?" Robby pointed, brows furrowed. Dennis laughed, almost a giggle, which made Robby's insides warm.
"Well, not until we get up there, but yeah," He pulled the box down from the truck, lifting with his knees and starting towards the door nearest to them. "Follow me."
The bees must've thought Dennis was a good driver, because it sounded like the box was empty as they ascended the stairs.
"Are you sure they're still in there?" Robby whispered. He didn't know why; it just felt like the bees needed some quiet after their stressful day. Hell, he knew he sure did.
"Yes, they are," Dennis assured. "It just means they're calm now, but you can still feel them moving around in here." He stopped at the nearest landing, turning and moving the box toward him," Feel."
Robby raised his eyebrows at the man, and Dennis sighed, rolling his eyes. "They're not going to get you, just feel."
Robby did, and the sensation was… calming. The low hum and vibrations reminded him of Bubbe's old cat, Dodi, and how it used to fall asleep on his chest, purrs echoing throughout his body. He let out a soft chuckle.
"That's… something."
He met the man's gaze, slightly startled to find out he was already looking at him with a soft expression. "Yeah. Yeah, uhm," he nodded to the door at the top of the next staircase, presumably leading to the rooftop. "You should put the veil on now."
Robby did as he was told, putting on the gloves as well, and followed him as Dennis shoved the door open with his back, flashing him a grin.
He stepped out, feeling the warm breeze through the mesh, and was met with a smaller rooftop than he thought, with outdoor string lights hanging from long stakes that held up all kinds of viney plants. There was a small garden in the middle, and multiple stacks of multicolored boxes, similar to the one Dennis had in his hands, lined up on either side. The assortment of flowers and herbs in the garden was surprising, especially for this time of year.
"It's not like how it is on the farm, but it's something," Dennis shrugged, placing the box down in an empty space with a grunt.
"Are all of these yours?"
Dennis shook his head, gesturing to the opposite side of the garden. "Naw, there are a couple of beekeepers who rent this place out who have their hives over there," He nodded to the boxes next to their newest addition. "Those are mine. When it gets too full, that's usually when the people who run the place transport them to a bigger apiary, like the one in the airport, or a local farm."
Robby nodded, taking all the information in. A whole other world, one he didn't even know existed until today. Until Dennis got that gleam in his eye and started talking.
Dennis opened up the top of the white box, gesturing to Robby to come closer. "Okay, so, you can just look for now if you want, but I saw when I was transferring it that some of the honeycomb needs to be harvested," He nodded to a wooden table in the corner, where a stack of mason jars, plastic containers, and other assorted tools were stored. "Can you get me one of those to-go boxes?"
Robby held the container as Dennis lifted one of the frames out of the box, and Robby flinched as bees poured out and circled them, the buzzing increasing in volume. Denis carefully propped the frame up, breaking apart some of the bright yellow honeycomb.
"How do you know when it's good to harvest?" Robby asked.
"You can usually tell if it looks kind of white," Dennis explained, pointing to the section of honeycomb he was carefully extracting from the frame. "It's this white wax, almost like a cap. And if you shake it," he wiggled the honeycomb gently, once it was out of the frame, "And no wax drips out, that means it's ready."
Robby hummed and leaned forward, inspecting the box, but jumped when a bee landed on the mesh veil, right in front of his eyes. Dennis laughed, putting the honeycomb in the container.
"It's fine, they can't get to you with that on," Dennis paused, then gave him a questioning look. "Random question, did you have bananas today?"
Robby furrowed his brows, shaking his head. The other man chuckled, settling the empty frame back in the box and picking up another one. "That's good." When he saw Robby's confusion, he gestured to the box.
"The chemical a banana releases is similar to a pheromone that bees give off, the one that means they want to attack," Dennis hummed, gently putting the frame back, finding that the honeycomb on it wasn't ready to harvest. "Most people think it's a myth, but I learned the hard way that it is definitely true."
Robby chuckled. "What happened?"
"Well, I came inside one day after Ma had made me eat breakfast that morning — banana pancakes." Dennis gave him a look. "And after working on the tractor all day, I decided to check on the hives before supper," Dennis laughed. "I've never gotten stung so many times, to this day."
"Do you ever get stung?" Robby questioned, scanning the man's body. He didn't look hurt, but this was the doctor who came to work with what he said was "just a stomach ache," which turned out to be acute appendicitis.
Dennis nodded, picking up the smoker next to him and lightly smoking the hive. The buzzing dulled, many of the bees retreating into the box, but many were all over the ground, in the air, and on Robby and Dennis. It was weird — Robby got used to the insects flying all around him, landing on his legs and arms. He couldn't feel them really, because of the suit, so it was mostly just the sound of their buzzing and Dennis talking. It was peaceful, a kind of peace he'd never experienced.
"Oh, yeah, I got stung getting that out," Dennis said nonchalantly, gesturing to the harvested honeycomb. Robby jumped, reaching for his arm.
"What the hell, are you serious?"
"Dr. Robby, it's fine, I barely feel it anymore," he chuckled, showing him his hand. Sure enough, there was a small brown dot on the man's palm, a faint red circle around the stinger. Robby held it in his hands, inspecting it. Dennis ducked down to meet his eyes. "I'm okay." Robby watched as the man scratched at the sting with his fingernail, holding it on his pointer finger to show Robby.
"See? All better."
Robby nodded, taking a deep breath. "Good." He looked around the hive and spotted some of them swirling around the flowers in the garden, and smiled.
"Oh, that's a relief," Dennis said. "Usually, when a hive is moved, the bees try to go back to their original home, because they memorize their flight patterns." Dennis shrugged, returning the frame to the box. "But the hospital is far enough away that they can get a new route going here." He nodded to the garden, watching as a couple migrated over and landed on some purple flowers near the hive. "I had a feeling they would like the lavender."
Dennis stood, putting all the tools back in his bag and handing Robby the honeycomb container. He rambled on adorably, and Robby hung onto every word. The resident had a habit of talking with his hands, like when he explained medical procedures to a patient or presented cases. Now, though, his hands were busy, moving the box containing the hive on top of his others, double-checking the other frames, and guiding bees back into the box with his bare hands. Robby shivered. He never knew someone scooping up bees with their hands did it for him.
The thing is, it wasn't boring rambling, either. Robby was invested in learning about this hobby that had Dennis so enraptured. He told Robby that some bees have something called flower fidelity, where they visit the same flower or plant for pollinating trips, and it can actually affect how their honey tastes. He also learned about queen balling, the most violent act he'd ever heard of — and he worked in emergency medicine. Robby told Dennis as such, and he shrugged, gesturing for him to follow to a set of patio chairs at the edge of the roof, a safe enough distance from the hives.
"Well, it's survival. It usually only happens when the queen is sick or old, then they make a new queen by picking one of the larvae — the baby bees — and feeding it a special jelly."
Robby nodded, and Dennis gestured for him to sit. The sun was setting, casting an orange hue over the city. It was beautiful, but he had to admit he was not looking at the view at all. He was looking at Dennis.
Dennis, who had shrugged off his sweatshirt and draped it over his chair. Dennis, whose face was painted with an orange-gold hue, relaxed and confident in his element, not unlike his face in the ED. Dennis, whose eyes were locked onto Robby's, he realized a beat too late.
"You can take that off, you know," Dennis gestured to the suit and then the chair, a teasing grin beginning to form on his lips. "Stay a while, if you want."
Robby flushed, realizing he was just standing there in a full bee suit, gawking at his resident. His cheeks felt hot as he removed the hat and unzipped the suit, placing it on the ground as he sat in the chair, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn't used to this feeling, the overwhelming desire and longing taking over his brain, nestling itself in his bones. He'd never felt like this about another person before — not Jake's mom, not Heather, not even Jack that one time that they never really talk about. It was consuming him, the need to be close to Dennis, the need to please.
The object of his turmoil was oblivious, naturally, popping open the honeycomb container and offering him a piece, honey dripping down his hand where his fingers had punctured the comb.
"Reward for your help today," Dennis mused, and Robby's mouth went dry. Reward. Fuck, he was screwed. He nodded, taking the treat. Dennis sucked the sweet nectar off his thumb, eyes locked on his.
"Stop."
Dennis' eyebrows furrowed, and Robby could see his tongue swirling around inside his mouth, scraping the honey off his teeth. "Stop what?"
"I can't — fuck, Dennis, I can't keep pretending anymore," Robby sighed, honey dripping down his wrist, but he didn't fucking care because none of this was fair.
"Pretending…" Dennis trailed off, studying the older man, leaning back in his chair. And the fucker smirked. "About what, Dr. Robby?"
Robby searched the man's face, the realization smacking him straight in the chest.
"You know."
"I've known," Dennis corrected, smirk growing as he talked. "I wanted to see if you would ever do anything about it."
Robby set the honeycomb down, as if that would clear some of the fog in his brain. He'd like to think he wasn't that obvious with his pining.
"I can't, I'm your—"
"Attending, yes, I know," Dennis brushed his hands on his pants and stood, slowly making his way over to Robby. His eyes were on him, gaze open and hungry. The look made the desire in Robby's core grow hotter. "But… I'm an adult."
"I know, but—"
Dennis slid onto Robby's lap, leg swinging over Robby's hip. He adjusted himself, making Robby's breath hitch, his sticky hands heading to Dennis' hips on autopilot. "And I can make my own decisions."
"Dennis," he whispers, too reverently, much too soon. He doesn't care, though, because when was the last time Robby did anything for himself? Let himself want? Lately, he hadn't wanted much of anything. He knew he was burnt out; he knew he was on the brink of collapsing. He doesn't know how long it'd felt like that — maybe it always has. His eyes traveled over Dennis: his hair, his lips, the curve of his eyebrows, his cheeks. He let himself reach out, clean thumb ghosting over his cheek. Dennis leaned into his hand, a happy sigh escaping his lips. Robby felt his lips turn up.
"I'm not the most put-together person right now," he whispered, afraid to admit it to the man he needed so desperately to think he was perfect.
"I don't need you to be put-together," Dennis whispered back, hands traveling up his chest, arms wrapping around his neck. "No one is."
"You are."
Dennis huffed out a laugh. "That's debatable."
"I think I could be," Robby started, feeling small all of a sudden. Like he was exposed, raw. "I could be, for you."
Dennis shook his head, threading his fingers through Robby's hair, making him fight to keep his eyes open. He felt so safe, having Dennis in his arms. It felt like he didn't have to hold the whole world together by himself. "I don't want that. I want you to be better for yourself, not me."
"I know, I—" Robby sighed, frustrated. How do you explain decades of pain, of raw anguish, that you didn't even realize wasn't normal until sitting in a room covered in blood, surrounded by painted cartoon animals and body bags? "I do want it for me. I just never felt like I…"
His throat closed up, and he looked away, past Dennis, toward the sun disappearing behind the city buildings. He felt a hand on his jaw, gently guiding him back to look at the man on top of him. His gaze soft, understanding. You don't have to hide from me.
"I never felt like I deserved to heal."
Robby was scared to see the pity, the "oh, Mommy didn't love you enough, did she?" — but there was none in Dennis Whitaker's eyes.
"You do, Michael," he said, the hand on his jaw, running along his beard, and fuck, he wanted to hear his name on Dennis' lips a thousand times over. "You deserve everything you want. You're allowed to want."
The permission to be selfish, from the person he wanted to be selfish with, was too overwhelming to ignore. His lips moved on their own accord, surging up to meet Dennis'. The man made a tiny, adorable squeak before returning the kiss, Robby's face cupped in his hands.
Robby separated, lips ghosting over Dennis' jaw, his cheek. "I want this, I want you. Please."
"You have me," Dennis breathed, pulling him up to smash their mouths together fervently. He ground down into his lap, hips moving deliciously against his.
"Fuck, baby," Robby groaned, chest heaving. His honey-covered hand traveled up beneath Dennis' shirt, where he felt a sharp sting. Robby jumped.
"Ow, fuck!"
"What, what—" Robby was shaking his hand when Dennis grabbed it, assessing for injuries. Beneath the dull pain, there was a sick, twisted satisfaction. I taught him to do that.
"Oh—" Dennis wore a knowing smile, then looked around the chair they both occupied. He leaned over, plucking something off the ground. "I found the culprit."
He held out his palm, where a dead bee lay. Robby frowned.
"Fuck, that fucking hurt."
Dennis rolled his eyes, setting the insect on the chair arm next to them. "They sting to protect themselves. You deserved it."
Robby made an indignant sound, pointing accusingly at the bug. "I didn't do anything, he's the one who stung me!"
Dennis shook his head, biting back a smirk. He grabbed Robby's thumb, lightly scratching to get the stinger out. "Most of the bees in a hive are female, thank you very much."
"Sorry, she stung me."
Dennis pouted, looking at him from beneath his long lashes, perfectly curled up at the ends. "Aw, poor baby." He brought his thumb to his lip and gave it a light kiss. "Better?"
Robby bit his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "Somewhat."
Dennis' eyes lit up with mischief as he parted his lips, tongue darting out to lick it, then sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue down to the base of the digit to lap at a drop of honey. Robby sucked in a breath, and Dennis smirked around his thumb. He let it go with a pop. "How about now?"
All Robby could do was nod helplessly. Robby would die a happy man if he could be helpless beneath Dennis for the rest of his life.
Dennis chuckled, brushing his lips in a sweet kiss like they had time. Like this could be forever. And boy, did Robby hope that was the case.
"We should get out of here," Dennis whispered against his lips, and Robby's stomach flipped.
"Yeah, uh, what—"
"To yours," Dennis said pointedly, hands coming up to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. Robby's heart swelled, part nervousness, part relief.
"Oh, yeah — yes, let's do that," Robby said smartly, and Dennis giggled. Robby wanted to bottle up the sound, to keep it close to his chest. He wanted to be the one to pull that sound out of Dennis every day.
He knew, now, that he could want.
***
"Holy shit, Huckleberry, what kind of animal attacked you on the way in?"
Dennis flushed, a hand coming up to try and cover the extensive amount of hickies that littered his neck.
"Please, don't," he hissed, eyes darting around the nurses' station as he grabbed a tablet.
Trinity shook her head, lifting her head to look at the board. "You're lucky Robby didn't call you out for sneaking in after morning rounds."
Dennis blew out a sharp breath, nodding his head in an attempt to school his features. "Yup."
She raised her index finger dramatically in mock suspicion. "But wait— didn't Robby go with you to drop off the bees or whatever you do with them?"
Dennis hummed, absentmindedly nodding while he tugged on his scrub top to see if the neck would go up any higher.
"Then, I get a text saying you won't be home at all, and that you'll 'see me tomorrow,'" Trinity put the air quotes right in his face, making him huff and back away from the counter.
"Yes, congrats, you can read," Dennis droned, eyes searching the board so he didn't have to look at his roommate. He clutched the tablet so hard his fingertips turned white.
"And you unshared your location with me," she continued, uncharacteristically ignoring his insult, "Which is so unsafe, by the way, you could've been murdered — this leads me to believe that you fu—"
Dennis whirled to face her, hands coming up as if he could stop her from blabbing about his business to the whole ED.
"Okay, yes, fuck, Trin, I went home with Robby," Dennis whispered, "Happy?"
"Delighted," Trinity smirked. "I just made so much money."
Dennis let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. His mood turned around quite quickly, though, because he spotted Robby across the room, going over lab results with Mel. Dennis loved seeing Robby teach — his face got all serious, but his eyes were soft, kind. Sort of like the way he was looking at Dennis now—
He looked away as he felt his cheeks heat up, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Trinity had seen the entire interaction, and she fake gagged, reaching over to grab her own tablet.
"Jesus, I'll see you later. I need to go wash my eyes out with bleach." Trinity leaned closer to him, looking around, "If you don't want it to be glaringly obvious, I suggest you keep the lovey-dovey eyes to a minimum."
Dennis opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, when he felt his phone buzz. He furrowed his brows, digging in his pocket. The only people he texted were in this building, working.
Dr. Robby
6:42 am
Dr. Robby: Stop looking at me like that.
Dennis grinned at his phone, eyes flitting up to where Robby stood at a computer, attempting to chart. He cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck, and Dennis saw the beginnings of some bruising peeking out beneath his scrub top.
Dennis: like what?
Dr. Robby: Like you want to devour me.
Dennis felt a shiver, despite the ED being incredibly warm.
Dennis: maybe I do… u seemed to enjoy it last night.
Dr. Robby: Careful, baby.
Dennis: why?
Dr. Robby: Because I can't get hard while charting, I have to see a patient after this.
Dennis felt his own pants tighten, his mind wandering back to the night before. It was a blur, even though they both were completely sober. The intensity, the heat between the two of them, made it seem like they were floating, the only two people in the universe. He remembered his face when he finally slid Robby's cock into him, not even waiting for them to adjust and immediately rocking his hips back and forth. Robby had groaned, gripping his hips like it was the only thing tethering him to that moment. Robby had looked up at Dennis, eyelids heavy, and Dennis remembered the overwhelming feeling of mine, that he wanted this man to look at him like that for the rest of his life. He wanted to be the only one who saw Robby like this, taken apart, pliant under his fingers, gaze drinking him in like he mattered. Dennis wanted all of that, and it scared him. He never wanted anyone so much.
Dr. Robby: I see you thinking.
Dennis: no u don't
Dr. Robby: Yes, I do. Take me to my place after work, and we can talk about it?
Dennis felt a small smile work its way onto his face, his shoulders relaxing. I want to be good for you, Robby had whispered against his skin when he pressed Dennis into his mattress. You are, Dennis had breathed, reaching behind, pressing Robby into him.
Dennis already knew what he wanted. He'd known of his desires the first time Robby laid a hand on his shoulder — when the shoulder and arm touches turned into hands on his back, his wrist. When his gaze lingered a second longer than necessary. Dennis noticed Robby, because he'd already been looking for him.
Dennis: sure:)
Dr. Robby: Good. Now get back to work, please.
Dennis glanced up to find Robby already looking at him, eyebrows raised. Dennis coughed, looking around and stuffing his phone back in his pocket.
"Dr. Whitaker, can you help me in bed 17?" Mel appeared from behind a curtain, smiling, oblivious to Dennis' spiraling.
"Sure," Dennis returned the smile, setting the tablet back in its slot and making his way over. He had to slide by Robby to get there, and he couldn't help himself. He wasn't completely unprofessional, but he did place a hand in between Robby's shoulder blades, and because he was nothing if not polite — his mama raised him to be such — he murmured "Excuse me, sir," as he passed through. He smirked as he heard a sharp intake of breath, letting the curtain fall behind him.
***
"They're so obvious it's painful," Dana shook her head, arms crossed.
"They couldn't have waited one more week?" Donnie groaned, leaning against the security window and looking longingly at the betting board, the ominously vague words "WHEN WILL IT HAPPEN?" scrawled across the top. "I got a family to feed!"
"You're just a sore loser." Trinity sauntered over, checking over the tablet in her hands for handoff.
"No, you're just a cheater," Ahmad added, popping out from behind his desk. "You probably had insider information."
Trinity held a hand up in surrender. "What Huckleberry does in his free time is none of my business. If that happens to be our boss, well… pay up, people."
"I'll get you the pot on Monday," he grumbled, "at least you didn't win the how part of it."
"I don't think anyone would've guessed bees were involved," Dana mused, studying the pair. Robby was leaning against the nurse's station, talking to Dennis and fiddling with a pen. He said something that made Dennis throw his head back in laughter, and Dana saw Robby's eyes crinkle as he smiled. She'd never seen him like this: unabashedly happy. It made her eyes sting, and she coughed to get rid of the lump in her throat. "Alright, I'll see everyone tomorrow."
They said their goodbyes, and she found herself walking out beside Robby, hands stuffed into his sweatshirt pockets, the evening chill making the hairs on her arms stand on end.
"Where's your boy?" Dana asked the chief, giving him a teasing smile. The man huffed, shaking his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Mhmm," Dana hummed, unconvinced. Her gaze fixed on the man, knowing sooner or later he would crack. It's something she'd learned over the years about Robby: when he had something to share, something he was excited about, you couldn't shut him up. She hadn't seen that from him in a long time — she thought she never would.
"Stop looking at me," Robby tried to grimace, but it ended up turning into a shy smile. He looked away, shaking his head. "Jesus, I don't know what I'm doing."
Dana let out a chuckle. "Me either."
"Hey!"
"You said it, not me." Dana pulled out her keys and a pack of cigarettes from her bag, holding one out for Robby, who shook his head. "It suits you."
"What does?"
Dana grinned around the cigarette hanging from her lips.
"Being happy."
Robby scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I was—"
"You weren't, and that's okay." She dug her lighter out of her pocket, then pointed at him. "You can't make him the only reason, though."
"I know," he sighed, looking around the parking lot, searching. "But it gives me hope."
"Hope is good," Dana nodded, then backed up as she heard a truck's rumbling engine start behind her. Robby grinned, and she turned to look, even though she knew who it was.
"See you tomorrow, Dana," Dennis gave her a small wave through the open window, eyes nervously flitting between her and Robby.
"See you, kid," Dana chuckled, and Robby gave her a warning look, which she returned with a teasing smile. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Dennis' eyes widened, and Robby huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes, opening the door and climbing in the front seat.
"Goodbye, Dana," Robby said out the window, and gestured for Dennis to keep driving.
She stood there until the truck disappeared around the corner, blowing out a puff of smoke. Then she walked to her car, shaking her head and smiling to herself.
***
They hadn't talked at all on the way to Robby's; the low croon of some singer Dennis didn't know the name of was the only sound to drown out his deafening heartbeat. He kept his eyes on the road, not allowing himself to glance at the man in his passenger seat. The walk up to Robby's front door was silent.
Even though Dennis had been the more confident of the two men, it was waning by the second. Not because of their feelings — no, Dennis didn't think those would ever go away. They'd both been stuck in their own worlds last night and this morning, too drunk on the fantastical possibility that this thing could actually work out. But when Dennis saw Dana's teasing expression and Robby's embarrassment, he knew that this thing couldn't last. Shouldn't. White hot embarrassment ran through him — he felt stupid. Robby was his boss, for fuck sake — no one would take him seriously if he were seen slumming it with the weirdo resident who was obsessed with bees.
'Listen, I can talk to Dana tomorrow and smooth things out. I didn't know she was there when I pulled up—"
Robby didn't let him finish, cupping his face in his hands and pressing their mouths together. Dennis made a small sound of surprise against his lips, moving backwards until he hit the wall next to Robby's front door.
When they pulled away, Dennis saw Robby's eyes were dark, full of something Dennis couldn't name.
"I don't care," Robby breathed, eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort. "I don't care if the whole hospital knows how much I want you, because it's true."
Dennis sputtered, hands coming up to circle Robby's wrists. "But you looked embarrassed, so I figured—"
Robby let out a sharp laugh. "She was teasing me about how gone I am for you, baby."
And, fuck, that sounded good coming out of his mouth.
"Oh," he breathed. He usually had more to say around Robby, but right now he couldn't find the words. His heart was beating in his throat, and all he wanted to do was devour the man before him.
"What… what about…" Dennis trailed off as Robby pressed his lips to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, humming as he went. "Robby—" a bite to his collarbone made him suck in a breath and tug on his hair. "Michael—"
Robby picked his head up, eyes meeting his. Dennis took a deep breath, trying to clear out the cloud of desire in his mind. "What about work? They will—"
"I already scheduled us a meeting tomorrow with HR," Robby leaned into Dennis' hand, then straightened slightly. "If that's alright with you."
Dennis hadn't expected his eyes to burn with unshed tears, but they did. Robby cradled his face in his hands, eyebrows creased, but Dennis was quick to calm him with a watery laugh.
"It's more than alright."
"Then why are you crying?"
"I just didn't expect this," Dennis breathed, "I didn't expect you to…" he trailed off, and Robby shook his head, pressing his forehead against his.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Robby whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, his breath getting heavier.
"Don't be sorry, please," Dennis gently tugged on the hair he still had a hold of, and Robby's eyes cracked open. "They're happy tears, and I don't care how long it took. I have you now."
"You do," Robby said quickly. "You always do."
Dennis smiled, hands traveling down his chest and ribs, coming to rest on his belt loops. He gave them a tug, which made Robby suck in a breath.
"Good," Dennis slid a pointer finger beneath his jeans, tilting his head up at the older man. "Now that I have you, what should I do with you?"
Robby groaned, low in his throat, fisting a hand in Dennis' hair. "Whatever you want to do with me, baby, please—"
Dennis didn't even let him finish the sentence, crushing their lips together and walking them back toward the couch. He shoved Robby backwards and quickly discarded his own pants, barely registering the incessant buzzing from his back pocket.
Later — much, much later — Dennis was snuggled in Robby's bed, opening his messages to let Trinity know he wouldn't be home tonight. He found one from her already waiting.
trin
8:12 pm
trin: reshare ur location with me you fuckwad ik ur fucking our boss now
10:56 pm
fuckleberry: jesus fine
'fuckleberry' started sharing location with 'trin'
trin: thanks for making me money btw we're going out tomorrow night
trin: you can take the man with you
fuckleberry: wait what money?
trin: dont worry about it
fuckleberry: i hate when u say that
trin: onto more important matters
fuckleberry: oh wonderful
trin: we have five new honey orders, word got around to peds 😝
fuckleberry: wtf trinity
trin: hey don't blame me ur the one with the freaky good bee vomit juice
fuckleberry: bro i told you it's not like that
trin: and i told you idgaf
trin: alright ur pmo go suck robbys dick or somethin
fuckleberry: already did 😝
trin: DISGUSTINGGGGG EWEWEW goodnight ur dead to me
fuckleberry: hehe
trin: real note
trin: are you happy?
fuckleberry: yes:)
trin: good
trin: then never talk to me about your boyfriend's dick again
"What are you laughing about?" Robby murmured, half-asleep, curled up behind him, hands traveling to wrap around his waist. Dennis put his phone on the bedside table, then turned to face the other man, nuzzling his face into his neck, a small smile on his lips.
"Just Trinity. Go to sleep," Dennis whispered, pressing a kiss against his beard. Robby grumbled and adjusted his grip, practically pulling Dennis on top of him. His breathing slowly evened out, the rise and fall of his chest lulling Dennis into what would be the best sleep he'd ever had.