Chapter Text
Dennis Whitaker was invisible;
Or at least he tried to be. He never overstepped or tried to show off; instead, he kept his head low and worked hard. As long as he doesn't mess up or throw himself into high-pressure situations, he'd be fine.
The key was to not be too quiet. If someone struck up a conversation, he would participate, even contributing to banter. Sure, being completely silent and devoting himself to work would garner less attention than being loud or eager, but it would still single him out.
And if he's singled out, people will start to notice–notice all the other things that set him apart. Like how his scrubs seemed looser every week; the way his eyebags seemed to grow; how no one had ever seen him leave the hospital.
Sure, it could be… lonely, but it was necessary for Dennis; this was his way of keeping himself safe.
He'd learned this early on in life from his older brothers; if he worked too hard on the farm, his dad would just give him more work. If he stopped working, he'd just get yelled at. So he just did what was asked and did it well, and it worked. Suddenly, his father's expectations dropped, and he stopped paying him mind.
It wasn't till junior high that he realized he could apply this concept to other things. When all the other boys his age were starting to focus on what girls in their grade they wanted, and the lewd magazines they passed around in secret, made him feel nothing.
There had been a joke.
One joke freshman year about how sensitive–‘girl-ish’ he was.
And he had known by then that he was… different, but he had tried to go on as normal, hiding it best he could. While spending sleepless nights on his knees praying to god to fix it, to fix him. Clearly God wasn't fixing him, and clearly he couldn't hide it.
So he disappeared.
By throwing himself into his studies, yet still showing up to hang out with friends whenever he was invited. But he no longer helped plan things or inserted himself where he was welcome. He even–ironically–started working extra hard on the farm, giving himself an excuse as to why he couldn't always show up. All while he began picking up extra chores around the church as a small form of repentance.
It worked too. Even though he'd never dated or even kissed a girl, it was never slighted against him because he was rarely brought up, and if he was brought up, the topic was quickly dropped cause there was nothing to say. He was just Dennis, devoted to a fault, and was ‘chill,’ maybe a little boring, but it wasn't his fault.
With his good grades and a stack of recommendation letters from his teachers and pastor, he was accepted with a scholarship into a college in Pennsylvania with a great theology (and medical) program. From there, all he had to do was convince his parents, and all his previous hard work paid off.
They drove him to the airport. He remembers it so clearly; he was sitting on the floor of the banged-up old household car with his whole family stuffed in. The sunrise spilled into the vehicle, lighting their faces up. The local radio station, which only played popular music from ten years back, country, and Christian music filling the bouts of silence. His father was driving the car, his mother sniffling in the passenger seat. He was squished against his brother's knees; his legs tingling, they had fallen asleep around hour two from being folded awkwardly against him.
They pulled into the unfamiliar, busy streets of Omaha, and a small, guilty part of Dennis felt excited. Which was wrong; even when he was surrounded by family and 'love', he wanted to get away. He thought his legs might give out from under him when he climbed out of the car and stood under the awning of the airport. His brothers got his stuff from the trunk while his mom sobbed into his arms. Except he couldn’t muster a single tear.
Which was probably for the best. Men really aren’t supposed to cry; at least not where he’s from.
Eventually, his mother's sobs quieted, and his father started lecturing him on being careful in the city, how people there could ‘poison his mind’. He nodded along, promising not to get mixed up in the wrong crowd. The whole time he felt like a liar, he was ninety-nine percent sure his mind was already ‘poisoned’, it had always been. Finally, after another long hug from his mother, a harsh pat on the back from his dad, and when his older brother had sufficiently messed up his hair, he stepped away with promises to call as soon as he landed.
College wasn’t much different. He somehow managed a small group of acquaintances but mostly focused on studying, loading his electives with classes that definitely were not suited to a theology degree or the plan he’d sold to his parents.
When he lost his place to live, the skill became imperative to survival. It was invaluable when it came time to sleep in shelters; the more inconspicuous he made himself, the better. He didn't make himself small enough to be a target and helped out when he could,d getting him in the good graces of the workers.
So when he started his emergency medicine rotation at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, he figured he would do the same.
It would be the same.
But then his first shift happens, and he manages to kill his first patient; get covered in fluids (forcing him to change his scrubs several times); get reprimanded several times; and almost get found out.
If he hadn’t caught on to the fact that Dr. Santos suspected him, he would be in a lot more trouble and possibly back on the streets. It had taken some quick thinking to get her off his trail.
Luckily, it seemed that in the ER, everyone is given some slack. Things move so quickly, mishaps are bound to happen, especially on the first day, and by the end of it, everyone's minds were on Pittfest, not each other. Things had calmed down; as calm as the ER could be, in the days that followed. Dennis did his best to blend in; his usual routine of letting himself slip through the cracks.
So why did Dr. Robby insist on noticing him?
In the thirteen days of his ER rotation, Dennis has received more direct attention than in the past ten years of his life, and almost all of it was from Dr. Robby.
Dennis didn’t understand.
Well, he had a few ideas. After all, Dennis had made the mistake of finding him in pedes and did his best to comfort him. But even before that, Dr. Robby had seemed extra… attentive towards him. At first, Dennis had thought maybe he was keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn't tell anyone what he saw.
But as days passed, Dennis was becoming more and more unsure of that. Sometimes he seemed almost… impressed by Dennis: proud.
It was odd to say the least.
The worst part was that he liked the attention. He tried his best to go on as normal, always smiling and nodding along. But his best clearly wasn’t enough; he found himself blushing and rambling whenever Dr. Robby touched him, which turned out to be a lot.
Whenever they worked on a patient together, his attending’s hand would find his shoulder. It was really nice, a heavy grounding weight anchoring him to the moment. And when he was working on a case alone or without Dr. Robby's supervision, he would always find Dennis and corner him ‘just checking in’ he would say easily, all while Dennis struggled internally.
Or how he freely handed out praise, which Dennis was clearly starved of; with every brush of Dr. Robby's thumb and encouraging word, he could feel himself preening.
Today marked two weeks of his rotation at PTMC, and what a two weeks it had been; a stressful, draining, and fulfilling two weeks. Only four more to go. Then Dennis could fade back into familiar, comfortable obscurity.
The issue was, well, the main issue was that Dennis didn’t think he could survive another four weeks.
Until now, Dennis could scrape by; almost all of his rotations provided some form of lunch, and when he stayed at shelters, there was always at least a few snacks or a can of soup waiting for him at the end of the day. In the ER, there is no set time for lunch, and an abandoned hospital wing certainly wasn’t greeting him with nonperishables after each shift.
He had gotten by stealing sandwiches from the sandwich cart before someone noticed him.
So now he only ate when catering was ordered, which seemed to be a daily occurrence, but even then, he’d only manage half of whatever he was eating before being dragged away to another case.
Surviving on half a meal for the past several days was already wearing on him. He was used to going hungry, but going hungry on top of the stress and running around that came with the ER was something else entirely.
All day so far, all Dennis could think about was how hungry he was; he was so Goddamn hungry. He’d already seemed thinner when he examined himself in the mirror of the hospital bathroom the previous night. He could only pray that no one would notice. But judging by the concerned glances he’d been getting all morning, his prayers weren't being answered.
His appearance must have been rather alarming as Dana pulled him aside and directed him to take five. So now he was alone in the break room staring at the staff vending machine, which was taunting him with rows of protein bars and low-fat baked chips. He felt his stomach roll, and he flinched.
With a quick wary glance over his shoulder, he approached the machine, bending down to feel for any loose change in the compartment. Nothing.
With a sigh, he pressed the button that usually administers said refunds, also; nothing.
Desperate, bored, and frustrated, he presses it a few more times. He’s so tired and hungry that he doesn't hear the door open or the nearing footsteps. It isn't until a steady warm hand presses his shoulder, startling him, causing his knees to give out, falling to the floor with a yelp. He whips his head around in embarrassment to see Dr. Robby staring at him, his lips drawn into a thin line of concern, but amusement glittering in his brown eyes. His hand hovers over Dennis’s shoulder as he tilts his head.
“Whitaker?” He asks, his voice warm and almost fond.
“Dr. Robby, I was just…” ‘scrounging for change for the vending machine’ was not something he wanted to tell anyone, let alone Dr. Robby; so he trailed off, feeling his cheeks flush.
Dr. Robby chuckled warm and low, “Vending machine, eat your money?”
Latching onto the excuse once it registered, Dennis nodded swiftly. “Yeah,” he lied, feeling only slightly guilty.
“Old thing has a habit of doing that.” Suddenly, Dennis’s perfect view of the older man is blocked by his extended hand; it takes a few moments for his head to catch up before he tentatively reaches out, placing his hand in Robby's calloused palm. His grip is firm as he gently tugs him forward, his other arm finding Dennis’s waist. “There we go.” Robby huffs, pulling him up and close. Once Dennis finds his footing, his legs feel like jelly, and his hunger is only partly to blame.
He expects to be pushed away, or for Dr. Robby's arms to at least drop, but seconds later, he's still being held inches from the older man's chest. He glances up through his lashes, unable to read his expression at the awkward angle; his eyes are closed, and he seems to be breathing in. His attending looks slightly... Relaxed? Like he's somehow been unburdened of the tension he silently carries.
Dennis manages to find his voice, “Uhm… Dr. Robby?”
The man in question tenses, his arms slowly dropping, as he takes a step back, shaking his head. “Sorry, kid, I’m a little tired.”
“No, it’s alright, I am too.” He said quickly, he found himself wanting to smooth his fingers over the crease between his eyebrows.
They stood there for a while. Dennis had expected Dr. Robby to send him off, or to leave, or to do something; instead, he just stared between Dennis and the machine expectantly. Did he expect Dennis to buy something? God, he hoped not.
“What were you going to get?”Dr. Robby finally asks, breaking the silence. He was digging through the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a card.
“Oh uhm…” Dennis hadn’t even thought that far ahead; his eyes glanced over to the machine, quickly scanning for whatever protein bar had the highest number. “I was going to-” He notices that Dr. Robby has again stepped closer, about to tap his card on the mechanism. “You don’t have to get me anything, it's fine really!”
“I didn’t ask you that, I asked what you were going to get?”
Something in Dr. Robby's eyes seemed to dance, challenging him to argue, which was honestly the last thing he wanted to do. So he concedes, feeling like a kid asking for candy as he shyly bows his head, pointing to a chocolate protein bar that boasts twenty grams. “Good choice.” Robby compliments swiping his card and pushing the corresponding numbers.
He bends down, and Dennis immediately averts his eyes; so focused on not looking, he doesn't even realize he's being offered the snack till it’s being pressed into his palm. Dennis tries his best not to marvel, but he can’t help it; it's been so long since someone's done anything for him. Just him. Even if to Dr. Robby it’s just a favor for the jumpy med student, to Dennis it’s everything.
“Thank you, Dr. Robby.” His voice wavers as a small smile finds its way to his lip. Dennis finally manages to meet Dr. Robby’s eyes. He probably looks insane, tired, gaunt, biting back tears, yet smiling.
“Of course, Whitaker don't mention it.” There’s no judgment in Dr. Robby’s voice and no hesitation when he pats his shoulder; his hand lingers before turning away toward the door, leaving him bereft and alone once more.
Dennis takes a moment to gather his bearings. He’s always left frazzled after an encounter with Dr. Robby, but it’s even worse when he’s hungry and exhausted. His mind is hazy to begin with; he doesn't need his attending to muddle it up.
His eyes flicker down to the protein bar, he smiles, relieved to finally eat something he was worried he wasn't gonna make it through the day…
“Whitaker! Just who I needed; come with me, quickly.”
Just as he’s about to unwrap his meal, he’s cut off by the door swinging open and Dr. Mohan's urgent tone. He feels himself deflate but hurries along, shoving it into his back pocket.
.
.
.
Dennis is dead on his feet. It’s been four hours since Dr. Robby bought him that protein bar, and for the past four hours, it’s been burning a hole in his pocket. The ER isn’t even that busy. It just turns out he’s ‘just the person’ everyone is looking for.
He just finished up a case with Dr. McKay. The world seemed fuzzy when he walked out. His vision flickered dark for just a second.
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
His heart was beating unusually fast, a symptom of low blood pressure. It actually had been for the past hour, but it was getting increasingly harder to ignore. The break room was all the way across the ER. With the way his legs were shaking, that was definitely too far… All he had to do was slip away into one of the hallways, eat the protein bar, breathe for a minute, hope no one notices his absence, and ride out the next two hours. After that, he could figure the rest out. He just had to make sure all his coworkers were none the wiser.
Stumbling toward the nearest hallway, which leads to the janitor's closet, barely anyone ever comes there, so he should be…
“Whitaker, just the man I’m looking for!” The kind, deep voice that Dennis so often preened under sounded like a death sentence, and the weight of Dr. Robby's hand almost caused him to topple over.
“I am?” Looking up was futile as his vision immediately spotted, but he did his best to make sure his expression didn’t show it.
“Yes, I was just wondering if you could tell me about your most recent case? With Dr. McKay?” he adds gently, leading Dennis to the wall. He was internally relieved it was just a check-in and not another case.
Dennis could hardly hear him, could hardly hear his own thoughts over-
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
And yet he nodded along. “Of course, Dr. Robby.” Instinctively, he digs for his notepad even though he can't read it. “Nine-year-old girl experiencing extreme stomach cramping and fever…”
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Trying not to show the fact that he’s seconds away from passing out, he keeps talking. He can't tell if he's slurring his words or if what he was saying even made sense, but the concern that began creasing Dr. Robby’s brows gave him a good or well… bad idea.
“Whitaker…?” Why did Dr. Robby's voice sound so urgent?
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
“Whitaker? Can you hear me? Whitaker?” So upset, Dennis never liked it when he sounded like that.
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Dennis felt his notepad slip through his fingers, but it quickly left his mind. He reached a trembling hand out, trying to ease Dr. Robby's expression.
“M' fine…”
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Someone big and warm is crowding him against the wall. He couldn't say who he glances around, his vision is dark, his legs tremble, suddenly he feels himself start to fall, sliding against the wall.
“Shit.” The back of his head doesn’t hit the floor or the wall; instead, it's gently cradled in a familiar hand.
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
There’s a moment where he manages to feel his surroundings take in the situation, and instead of worrying about how much attention or suspicion this will garner, all he can think and do is mourn the stupid protein bar, which he can tell is getting crushed in the back pocket of his scrubs.
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Then his head is swimming, and he’s gone.
Thump,
Thump,
Thump,
The bright lightning of the break room is the first thing he sees when he opens his bleary eyes, forcing him to immediately shut them tight. “Whitaker?”
Dr. Robby's voice brings the reality of the situation crashing down on him, but before he can panic, a flimsy cup of water is being pressed to his lips, and he obediently drinks till it's pulled away. Carefully, he opens his eyes once more, blinking as they re-adjust to the light. His field of vision is filled with Dr. Robby, who has leaned in closer; his expression is relieved and slightly frustrated.
“Dr. Robby I-” He struggles to explain, trying to right the situation.
“Your blood pressure was extremely low; when’s the last time you ate?” It’s the voice he always uses when patients are acting unreasonably.
“Uhm… dinner last night.” That was a lie last time he ate was when everyone ordered from a Mexican place, and Dennis managed to snag a few tacos for lunch yesterday.
Dr. Robby's eyes search, his face softening when Dennis shies away. “What about that protein bar?”
Dennis is once again reminded of the bar that was once perfectly good, now sitting crushed in his scrub pocket. “I uh, I didn’t get a chance to eat it…” Even though it's not a lie, Dennis still feels extremely guilty when he speaks, and the disappointment in Robby's expression leaves him squirming in his seat.
After a moment of letting Dennis suffer, his attending shows mercy, sighing but filling the tense silence. “Listen, Dennis. I don’t know if this is normal for you, but it cannot fly in the ER. Your health is important; we really don’t need another patient.” His tone goes from grave to gently joking, allowing Dennis to relax.
Their eyes meet, and Dr. Robby's tender expression hardens, and Dennis feels as if he’s fallen for some sort of trap. “In all seriousness, what if you had fainted while working on a patient. Do you understand the gravity of this?”
Those once warm brown eyes hold Dennis captive, burning with intensity.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Dr. Robby.” Is all Dennis can say when he finally manages to speak.
Dr. Robby sighs again, causing Dennis to flinch.
“You don't have to apologize to me. Just make sure this doesn't happen again, alright?” His tone has evened out into an unhappy medium, it’s times like this where Dr. Robby's mask slips and he just seems tired. Dennis loathes being the cause of that expression.
“Yes.”
It’s an empty promise only said to appease him, but it’s the only thing Dennis can say. Even if he really doesn’t have much agency in his situation, he can’t guarantee he won’t faint again because he can’t guarantee his next meal.
Seemingly relieved, Dr. Robby leans back, finally allowing Dennis to breathe. “Good.”
The sit for either a few seconds or a few minutes, Dennis couldn’t say, in fact, he can’t say a thing, his head is still slightly fuzzy, and he’s internally spiraling about the repercussions of his little fainting spell. Dr. Robby turns out to be his saving grace as he distracts him from his thoughts by handing him food.
“Here, try to get some food in your system.”
“Thank you,” Dennis replies, trying not to sound too excited about the meal.
Dr. Robby's gotten him three sandwiches from the sandwich cart, which is a little overkill, but Dennis is not complaining. Along with that is a bag of those fat-free chips from the vending machine, a generic brand electrolyte drink from the cafeteria, and another one of the protein bars from earlier. Dennis can’t stop the grin that breaks out across his face.
“You’re welcome. Now, do you have anybody you can call?”
He’s already bitten into one of the sandwiches and has to swallow his under chewed mouthful before talking.
“Uhm, why?” He says not looking up, reaching for the drink to soothe his now dry throat.
“To take you home.” He sounds amused and maybe a little baffled.
Dennis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, now a bit more invested in the conversation.
“No, I don’t.” He keeps his gaze trained on the ground, not wanting to receive any pity. “But I can just get back to work once I’m done eating-”
“Whitaker, I’m sorry, but it’s not that busy today, and I’m worried about you. Get home early, get a few hours of rest so you can come back tomorrow. We need you at your best.”
Dr. Robby’s worried about him.
Huh.
“I…”
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Maybe he was right, Dennis should go ‘home’.
“Yeah, alright.” He concedes, trying to ignore the fact that his heart rate was increasing for an entirely different reason.
“Good, but maybe you should wait a bit before heading back. I can see if I can get someone to get you a ride…”
“I can call an Uber, don’t worry about it, Dr. Robby.” Dennis immediately shuts the offer down. It's going to be hard enough going up to the eighth floor without being noticed. He doesn't need people offering to take him to a home that does not exist, on top of that.
“Are you sure?” Dr. Robby looks at him incredulously, raising a brow.
“I’m sure.”
Before Dr. Robby can argue, Mel has poked her head in, looking between the two before asking.
“Dr. Robby, can you take a look at this?”
“Yep, I’ll be right there.” He nods his head towards Dennis before standing and heading to leave, but he stops in the doorway.
“Hey Whitaker?”
Dennis looks up, unable to verbally respond as he’s moved on to the other half of his sandwich, so he nods instead.
“Take care, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dr. Robby's voice is gentle and forgiving, leaving the interaction on a higher note than Dennis could have hoped for.
He’s practically gone by the time Dennis is able to speak, but he still does softly to the swinging door. “See you… tomorrow.”
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Though he had no home to go to, the sentiment was right. Dennis needed to get out of here, and he intended to do so before Robby could check on him. Luckily, he had learned a few ins and outs of the hospital during past rotations and was able to slip out of the department unnoticed, taking the rest of his impromptu meal with him.
Unfortunately, this alternate route meant a lot of walking and a lot of stairs. Dennis isn’t a weak person, physically anyway; or well, he wasn’t. But almost a year without a place to stay had taken its toll on him. By the time he got up to the eighth floor and was greeted by the now familiar interior of the abandoned room he called home, Dennis was exhausted. He set the food aside, dropping his bag to the floor, letting himself fall faceforward onto the uncomfortable hospital bed.
He groaned into the limp pillow as the repercussions of the day set in. So much for trying to disappear; he didn’t know how many people had seen him faint or who had helped him. His stomach churned with nerves at the idea of walking in tomorrow and being scrutinized, being pulled aside by Kiara.
Dennis knows he should eat some more, but his mind is still racing, and he doesn't know if he can stomach anything else, and he certainly doesn’t want to risk it. In all honesty, he felt a bit ill. Dr. Robby's advice to get some rest replays in his head, and he decides to listen, pulling the thin hospital blanket over him.
After a lot more tossing and turning, he manages to fall into a fitful sleep filled with Dr. Robby and only Dr. Robby, from his disappointed face to the gentle way he crowded Dennis against the wall. It was a bit much for only knowing the man for two weeks.
.
.
.
Waking up sweaty, overheated, guilty, and hungry is never fun, but it’s a reality Dennis has become used to ever since meeting Dr. Robby.
Okay, so maybe Dennis was attracted to his attending.
Dennis wasn’t surprised that he was exactly his type: strong, mature, smart, and sensitive, and he gave Dennis so much of his attention. The many hours Dennis had dedicated to praying for god to ‘fix him’ when he was a teenager had been wasted.
Being gay was something he took a long time to come to terms with. It took a lot of understanding of the different translations and interpretations of the bible and insight and introspection for him to even say it out loud. Even if he had just said it to himself quietly, under his breath in a shitty shared apartment. He’s still plagued by guilt whenever his heart speeds up around Dr. Robby.
He credited that more so to the fact that he was a massive pervert. There was no biblical interpretation that could explain and validate wanting to taste your fifty-four-year-old mentor; wanting him to fill you; and wanting to fill him. Of course, it didn’t take a theology degree to confirm that, but it definitely helped.
The fact that Dr. Robby touched him so much didn’t help. It was constant whenever they were near each other; his hand was rubbing the nape of his neck, stroking his shoulder, pulling him past people.
It got to a point where even Dr. Santos had commented on it.
Dennis really didn’t have any right to complain as he leaned into those touches, encouraging them with careful proximity, loving the way his skin buzzed even after Dr. Robby's hands left him. He didn’t even mean to, after all, he was trying his best not to be noticed, but even he couldn’t justify the way he acted around the older man.
It didn’t help the fact that Dr. Robby was well-intentioned and kind, always looking out for him, only to be repaid with lust. As he rolls over onto his side, he feels something squishy in his pockets.
The protein bar.
His stomach growled at the reminder, and no matter how squished, warm, and gross it was, Dennis was in no position to waste food.
Sitting up, he gathers the other two sandwiches, the half-full electrolyte drink, and the squished protein bar, attempting to make a meal out of it. He grabs one of the hospital's rolly tables and lays it all out in front of him.
He sits on the edge of the bed, carefully unwrapping the sandwiches and the protein bar, opening up his drink, and organizing the food as nicely as he can, given the items.
He’s so engrossed he doesn’t hear the pattering of footsteps far away or the ding of the nearby elevator.
Taking a deep breath, he steals a moment to appreciate the food before speaking,
“Bless us oh Lord for these thy gifts that we’re about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen”
As he closed his eyes, he pictured Dr. Robby leaning over him, the fluorescent light shining around his head like a halo, handing him the meal.
When he finished opening his eyes, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling sat deep in his stomach.
He really had it bad if Dr. Robby was infiltrating his prayer, something supposedly sacred. At least he considered Dr. Robby sacred, too; so that had to count for something?
Or maybe that was worse.
Definitely worse.
Dennis had always said grace when he was younger; admittedly, it became a chore–second nature; he could speed through the small prayer without thought and eat. But ever since his situation became… unstable, he took his time; it wasn’t as much of a hassle anymore anyway, since meals were infrequent.
From an outsider's perspective, he probably looked pathetic. Holed up in a run-down hospital room, praying over a smushed protein bar and sandwiches. Internally, it was even worse as he was fantasizing about his attending the entire time.
He hummed as he grabbed the protein bar using the wrapper to pick it up, not wanting to dirty his hands.
Luckily, there was no outsider to perceive this.
He had that small comfort as he shoved half the thing in his mouth.
It tasted… like a smushed warm protein bar.
Going in for another bite, he’s interrupted by…
“Whitaker?!”
“What the hell!”
Instinctively, he jumped to his feet only to be unable to back away, being stuck against the bed, his head shot up, and he was face to face with the last person he would ever want seeing him like this.
“Dr. Robby…”
Dennis had known, when he first started squatting at the hospital, that he was doing so on borrowed time. There was always the possibility someone would find him, and it would very likely jeopardize his career. He wasn't that naive.
Perhaps he got too wrapped up in all his other stressors, and he might have placed his living situation on the back burner; no point in looking for solutions he can’t afford. Especially when he should be looking for his next meal.
What had led him to this?
Dennis always told himself he had no regrets about going to med school, about living his truth; even if that meant losing his family in the process. It had mostly been true; even at his lowest, he was still proud of his decision. But now staring at Dr. Robby's baffled face as he eyes Dennis's frankly shameful appearance, he considers it.
What would have happened if he had gone back home, gone along with ‘his plan’?
The plan in question was the only reason he’d been able to leave on good terms with his family (their version of good, anyway). He’d promised and told anyone who asked that the second he graduated, he’d be coming home immediately after and picking up work on the farm. Working in his spare time as an apprentice to the pastor of the church, Father Mathews, learning the ropes to eventually take over once he decided to retire.
No, he would have been miserable and not in the way he is now; he would never have even met Dr. Robby.
“Whitaker?” That familiar deep voice was gentler as if he was approaching a wild animal.
Right, Dr. Robby.
What could he even say?
“Dr. Robby I’m…” He’s closer now, examining the room. Dennis watches as the realization sets in the bob of his throat, the slight lift of his eyebrows when Dr. Robby turns back to him, and he schools his expression into something careful and unreadable but not outwardly threatening.
“I’m so sorry…” Is all he can manage at first; his voice croaks, and he sounds horribly weak when he looks up; Dr. Robby’s still staring. Dennis shifts under his gaze, “I’m between places right now, and well, I discovered this place during my internal medicine rotation. I didn't mean to… I’m sorry, please don’t report me or write me up. I’ll leave right now, I-”
Dr. Robby puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping his rambling, which was necessary. Dennis probably could have gone on forever; he gently pushes him down onto the bed, sitting beside him.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, it’s okay, just… sit, you’re not in trouble.”
Dennis nods weakly, taking a few deep breaths, while Dr. Robby’s thumb gently presses circles into his shoulder.
“So you’ve been staying here for a month?” He can feel himself melt at his tone; there's no judgment or pity, just quiet care.
“And a few weeks…” He adds on wanting to be completely honest, he’s already lied enough, he doesn't want to give Dr. Robby anymore reasons to mistrust him.
“I’m assuming you have no one you can-”
“I don’t have anyone I can call.” Dennis cuts him off rather abruptly. He can’t help but get defensive when it comes to how lonely he is.
“Sorry, that's a dumb question.” Dr. Robby chuckles self-deprecatingly, and Dennis feels himself relax. Dr. Robby’s hand spreads over his shoulder and squeezes. “I usually leave this sort of thing to Kiara. Speaking of tomorrow, I can-”
Dennis already knows what he’s going to say; he had joined the street team partly because he wanted to help people much like himself, and partly because he wanted to scope out the resources the hospital offered, to see if there was a way he could use them. But he had already stayed at all the shelters that they directed people to.
“That’s really thoughtful, Dr. Robby, but I’ve already stayed the limit and most of the shelters in the area… anything further and the commute here will be too expensive… I’m sorry.” He doesn’t dare look up; staring at his lap, knowing he’s quickly becoming more trouble for Dr. Robby.
"Stop apologizing…” Dr. Robby sighs, rubbing his face. Normally, Dennis would be fawning over how attractive he is, but now he just wilts away guiltily. “I can’t let you stay here.” Dr. Robby said, finally.
Dennis knew it was coming; at least Dr. Robby cared. He seemed really torn up about it.
“I know… I’m… I’ll be fine.” He would not be fine; he would most likely end up sleeping on the street.
“No.”
Dr. Robby barked as the grip on his shoulder quickly became bruising. Dennis shivered at the husky, demanding tone. Immediately, the touch becomes feather-light as Dr. Robby mistakes his arousal for discomfort.
“I mean, no, I’m not gonna kick you onto the streets Whitaker…” He can feel Dr. Robby’s eyes boring into him; clearly, he expects Dennis to meet them, eager to obey, he does. Dr. Robby's expression softens, and he begins rubbing Dennis’s back in careful, languid downward strokes. “Here, this might be completely inappropriate, but my condo isn't far from here. I have a spare room.”
For a second, Dennis lets himself imagine what it would be like to live with Dr. Robby. He imagines opening his eyes to the sleep-tousled older man lying next to him, making them breakfast in the morning, and those big arms wrapping around his waist; sitting across from him on the couch in comfortable silence after a long, hard shift.
Shaking himself out of his fantasy, he speaks, “No, I can’t.” It’s so quiet and decisive, mostly intended for himself, he realizes it may come across as rude and quickly turns to Dr. Robby, trying to express his gratitude. “I mean, it's an extremely generous offer, and I really appreciate it, but I can’t pay you rent, Dr. Robby.”
He shakes his head, turning Dennis towards him, lowering his gaze so Dennis can’t break eye contact. “I’m not asking you to pay rent, I'm offering you somewhere to stay. No expectations, you can pretend I'm not there if you’d like.”
Dennis would very much not like that. But still he hesitates; the offer was so gracious, but would accepting it be taking advantage of Dr. Robby? He’s trying to do something nice, and Dennis is corrupting that. Is it even fair to accept the offer Dr. Robby's made if he’s made it under false pretenses?
Sensing his indecision, but misinterpreting why Dr. Robby presses on.“Look, if you’re really unsure, you can cook and pick up a few chores, but just know you're not required to do anything.”
Dennis gives in; there's no reason to start worrying about being righteous now, and Dr. Robby seems so insistent and worried. “If you really are sure.”
“I am… I'll let you pack your things up, okay?” The hand on his shoulder pulls away, but that doesn't stop Dr. Robby from ghosting his fingers along Dennis’s back.
It won’t take Dennis too long to pack all he has: a few pairs of clothes, two bags, his water bottle, toiletries, and school supplies. He flits around the room, trying to focus on packing and not the fact that he was about to go home with Dr. Robby. The fact that the man in question was shamelessly watching him was not helping.
When he goes to grab something off the table, the same table he’d laid his ‘meal’ on, he notices Dr. Robby staring at it. Seemingly putting the pieces together as to why he fainted today.
“I’m sorry I was so harsh today.” Dr. Robby whispers, soft and earnest.
Dennis smiles weakly, shaking his head. “No, it's alright, you didn't know, and it was true, it was dangerous of me to keep going like that. I should have excused myself and taken a break regardless of my living situation.”
Their eyes briefly meet, and Dennis gets goosebumps, turning away and busying himself with finishing up. Dr. Robby doesn't comment on the fact that Dennis carefully repacks his meal and sets it on the top of the contents of his duffle bag before zipping it up.
“I’m all done,” he says, stepping in front of Dr. Robby. He’s put his sweatshirt on and has slung both duffel bags over his shoulder.
He stands with a small groan that makes Dennis’s face feel hot. “Here, let me take your bags.”
Before Dennis can protest, Dr. Robby is maneuvering his body just to get the bags off, grabbing and moving his arm up and down, patting his shoulder, leaving him flustered and speechless at being manhandled so casually.
“Thank you, Dr. Robby.” Is all he manages, brain still catching up, all his senses are filled with Dr. Robby and only Dr. Robby.
Who shrugs and turns to leave, like it's nothing, and Dennis realizes how wrong it is; he’s legitimately saving Dennis’s life and acting as if it’s nothing. Desperate to convey the feelings threatening to bubble from his throat, he hastily grabs Dr. Robby's arm.
"No, thank you for this, really I… I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”
Dr. Robby looks down at him; his expression is a bit shocked, but for a few precious seconds, it melts into something intimate and open, free of stress. “It’s alright, and you’re welcome.” Before hardening into something a bit more stern. “But you don't need to feel like you owe me, because you don’t. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dr. Robby,” He murmured, feeling silly as he dropped his hand from Dr. Robby's arm.
“You know, kid, you don't uh, have to call me that when we're off the clock. You can just call me Robby?" It was probably just wishful thinking, but his attending sounded weirdly… nervous or shy? It was kind of cute, Dennis had to admit.
“Okay, but then uhm you should call me Dennis too.” He says automatically, not considering the consequences of his careless actions.
“Dennis…” Robby muses his name, warm and unsure on his tongue. Dennis lights up red, immediately facing the consequences he really ought to start thinking things through.
“Alright, Dennis, let's get going.” Robby smiles in amusement, turning towards the hallway, leaving Dennis standing there like a lovestruck fool.
Even though this went against everything Dennis had relied upon for the past fourteen years of his life, he couldn’t help the excitement thrumming in his chest.
“Yeah,” He called out, realizing Robby was now halfway down the hall.
Stumbling to catch up with Robby, he runs, once he's beside him, he slows down, mirroring Robby's pace.
Robby chuckles at his flustered display. His arm finds its usual spot around his shoulders as they walk toward the staircase.
Dennis has never been more regret-free about leaving Brokenbow and pursing his dreams.