Work Text:
The emergency department at The Pitt never truly quieted. Even during the slower moments there were phones ringing, monitors chiming, and the constant rhythm of footsteps on polished floors.
Dr. Michael Robby leaned against the nurses station counter with a tired sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.
“My kitchen sink is officially trying to drown my apartment,” he muttered.
Across from him, Dr. Trinity Santos raised an eyebrow while finishing a chart.
“Small leak, again?”
“Not small” Robby corrected. “Actively dripping. I put a bowl under the pipes and it filled up in an hour.”
Santos gave a thoughtful hum.
“You know who you should ask?”
Robby looked over.
“Who.”
She smirked.
“Huckleberry.”
Robby blinked once.
“Huckleberry?”
Santos tilted her head toward the trauma bays where Dr. Dennis Whitaker was finishing with a patient.
“You didn’t know?” she said. “Whitaker fixes everything around our apartment. Built my bookshelves. Fixed the break room coffee machine when it died. I’m pretty sure he rebuilt a tractor on his parents farm.”
Robby followed her gaze.
Dennis Whitaker. Sleeves rolled up, curly hair a little messy from the long shift, he was calmly explaining discharge instructions to a patient’s family.
“But, Huckleberry?” Robby repeated.
Santos shrugged.
“Nickname for our little farm boy.”
Robby huffed a quiet laugh.
“Well,” he said, pushing away from the counter, “guess I’m about to find out how handy our Huckleberry is..”
---
Dennis Whitaker was walking back toward the main floor, flipping through a chart on his tablet, when he heard his name.
“Whitaker.”
He looked up.
Dr. Robby was a few steps away.
Before Dennis could say anything, Robby reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Robby said quietly. “Got a second?”
The contact was brief.
Just a hand on his shoulder guiding him toward the side hallway.
But to Dennis it felt like someone had flipped a breaker inside his brain.
Heat.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Robby’s hand was warm through the thin fabric of his scrub top. Firm. Steady. The pressure of it sent a sharp line of awareness straight down his spine.
Dennis followed automatically, barely registering where they were going.
Focus, he told himself.
You are at work.
They stopped near a quiet supply alcove.
Robby dropped his hand and leaned casually against the wall.
Dennis instantly missed the contact.
“So,” Robby said, folding his arms. “I heard a rumor.”
Dennis blinked.
“A rumor.”
“Yeah. That you’re secretly a handyman.”
Dennis stared at him for half a second before realizing where this was going.
“Santos,” he said flatly.
Robby grinned.
“She hyped you up .”
Dennis rubbed the back of his neck.
“I mean... I fix things sometimes.”
Robby nodded toward the floor.
“My kitchen pipes are leaking. Like aggressively leaking.”
Dennis tried to focus on the words coming out of his mouth and not his lips.
Pipes.
Kitchen.
Leaking.
Instead his brain kept noticing how flushed his lips were while talking.
Jesus.
He swallowed.
“So,” Robby continued, “any chance you’d be willing to take a look?”
Dennis forced himself to look at Robby’s eyes..
“Uh. What?.”
Smooth, Whitaker. Very professional.
“Can you take a look…at the pipes?”
“ohhhh the pipes, yes I can do that.” Whitaker said with a blush. He needed to get a grip.
Robby looked relieved.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Dennis said quickly. “It’s probably just a worn seal or loose trap connection.”
Robby tilted his head.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
Dennis shook his head.
“No. Not at all.”
His brain finally managing to produce functional thought.
“When?”
Robby considered.
“Saturday?”
Dennis nodded immediately.
“We’re both off Saturday.”
Right. That was correct. Good. Excellent job remembering the schedule.
“I can swing by,” Dennis added. “Take a look.”
Robby smiled.
“Perfect.”
For a moment neither of them moved.
Dennis wondered if Robby was going to touch his shoulder again.
He hated that he was wondering that.
“Well,” Robby said finally, pushing off the wall. “Thanks, Huckleberry.”
Dennis groaned softly.
“You too?”
“Oh absolutely,” Robby said, already turning back toward the ER. “No way I’m not using that.”
Dennis watched him walk away, trying to gather his thoughts.
Saturday.
Robby’s apartment.
Fix the pipes.
He exhaled slowly.
Alone. With him. In his apartment.
What could go wrong?
Saturday rolled around.
Robby checked the kitchen sink for the third time that hour. The bowl under the pipes had filled with water. He dumped it into the shower and returned it under the sink.
A knock sounded at the door.
Robby straightened and walked over, opening it.
Dennis Whitaker stood in the hallway holding a small tool bag. He wore worn work jeans, sturdy boots, and a dark brown long sleeved shirt pushed up to his forearms.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Dennis suddenly became very aware that this was not the hospital.
No scrubs. No chaotic ER. No layers of professional distance.
Just Robby’s apartment.
And Robby himself standing there in a soft T shirt and sweatpants looking annoyingly comfortable.
“Hi,” Dennis said.
“Hey,” Robby replied, stepping aside. “Come on in.”
Dennis walked inside, trying not to stare at anything too obviously.
The apartment smelled faintly like coffee and something citrusy. It felt warm and lived in. Books stacked on a side table. A jacket tossed over the back of a chair.
Robby shut the door behind him.
“So the sink’s the problem,” Robby said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
Dennis nodded quickly.
“Yes, Dr Robby.”
Robby paused halfway through walking.
He looked back at him.
“You’re not on shift,” he said.
Dennis blinked.
“You can just call me Robby.”
Dennis felt his brain stall for half a second.
Just Robby.
Right.
“Okay,” Dennis said, a little awkwardly. “Robby.”
Robby smiled like he found that entertaining and pointed toward the kitchen.
“This way, Huckleberry.”
Dennis groaned quietly.
The kitchen was small which meant they were immediately standing much closer than Dennis was emotionally prepared for.
He crouched down and opened the cabinet under the sink.
“Alright,” he murmured, setting his tool bag down.
Focus.
Pipes.
Not the fact that Robby was leaning on the counter about two feet away.
Dennis reached inside and touched one of the joints.
Water dripped onto his knuckle.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “That seal’s shot.”
Behind him Robby watched.
At first he was just observing. Curious about the process.
Then Dennis shifted position and Robby’s brain short circuited a little.
Dennis was kneeling on the kitchen floor in worn jeans that fit him extremely well. His long sleeved shirt clung to his waist so beautifully.
Dennis leaned farther into the cabinet.
A quiet grunt escaped him as he loosened a fitting.
Robby stared very hard at the opposite wall.
This is normal, he told himself.
You asked your resident to fix a pipe.
You are watching him fix the pipe.
This is normal.
Dennis sat back for a second and wiped his forehead.
“Sorry,” he said. “Your apartment’s warm.”
He reached for the hem of his long sleeved shirt and pulled it up and over his head in one smooth motion.
For one very brief moment his chest was completely exposed.
Then he dragged a tight tank top down into place.
Robby completely stopped functioning.
Dennis tossed the shirt onto the counter and leaned back under the sink.
Robby looked at the ceiling.
Get a hold of yourself.
He rubbed a hand on his neck.
You cannot stare at him like a piece of meat.
Behind him Dennis spoke without looking out of the cabinet.
“Do you have a towel?”
“Yeah,” Robby said quickly, grabbing one from a drawer and handing it down.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
Dennis froze for half a second before taking it.
“Thanks,” he said.
A few more minutes passed with the quiet clink of tools.
Then Dennis slid out from under the sink.
“All set,” he said.
Robby blinked.
“That fast?”
Dennis shrugged.
“Just needed a new seal and tightening.”
He turned on the faucet.
Water ran.
No drip.
Robby leaned down and checked under the sink.
Dry.
“Well,” he said, standing again. “You’re a miracle worker.”
Dennis laughed softly.
“Not quite.”
Robby gestured toward the table.
“You hungry?”
Dennis hesitated.
“A little.”
“Good,” Robby said. “I ordered sandwiches.”
They sat at the small kitchen table with takeout containers between them.
Conversation came easily.
They joked about ER chaos. Patient horror stories. Santos’s terrible taste in music during shifts.
Dennis relaxed slowly as they talked.
Robby found himself laughing more than he had all week.
Eventually Dennis finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair.
“Well,” he said. “Mission accomplished.”
Robby nodded.
“Yeah.”
He should probably let Dennis go.
That would be the normal, responsible attending thing to do.
Instead Robby glanced toward the hallway.
“Actually,” he said casually.
Dennis looked up.
“Yeah?”
Robby gestured vaguely toward the other room.
“I think my hot water tank is making a weird noise when the hot water comes on.”
Dennis blinked.
“A noise.”
“Yeah,” Robby said. “Hard to describe.”
Dennis studied him for a moment.
Then he smiled slowly.
“Alright,” he said, standing up and grabbing his tool bag again.
“Let’s take a look.”
The afternoon had stretched longer than either of them expected.
Dennis finished tightening the last bolt on the water heater and wiped his hands on the towel Robby had given him earlier.
“Alright,” he said, sliding out from the closet. “This should be good now.”
Robby leaned in the doorway watching him.
“You’re spoiling me.”
Dennis laughed softly as he stood.
“Well. l do what I can.”
A comfortable quiet settled between them.
Dennis glanced toward the living room and then down at his tools.
“I should probably head out,” he said.
Robby nodded slowly.
“Yeah. Probably.”
Dennis crouched down and started packing up his tools. Wrench. Tape. A small container of washers. Each one went back into the bag with careful movements.
He was aware of Robby standing nearby.
Very nearby.
When he stood again Robby was right there beside him in the kitchen.
“Thanks again,” Robby said.
Dennis shifted the strap of the tool bag over his shoulder.
“No problem. Really.”
They moved toward the door together.
Robby reached out and touched Dennis lightly on the arm.
“Seriously,” he said. “You saved my kitchen.”
The contact sent a quiet wave of heat through Dennis’s chest.
“It was just a seal,” Dennis said.
Robby’s hand stayed there for a moment longer than necessary.
Dennis noticed that.
He also noticed Robby’s face was closer than usual.
Close enough that Dennis could almost feel his warm breath on his cheek.
Dennis looked away.
Then looked back.
Then realized he was staring.
At Robby’s lips.
He tried to stop.
He absolutely did not stop.
Robby was saying something about calling him again if something else broke when he noticed.
Dennis’s gaze.
Robby’s voice faded mid sentence.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Robby looked at Dennis’s mouth.
Dennis looked at Robby’s.
Robby slowly ran his tongue across his own lips.
Dennis’s breath caught.
Something in the air shifted.
Dennis set his tool bag down without looking away.
Neither of them said a word.
Robby’s hand slid from Dennis’s arm to his shoulder.
Then higher.
His fingers brushed the side of Dennis’s neck.
That was the moment the last thread of restraint snapped.
Dennis closed the distance.
Their mouths crashed together.
It was immediate and intense and completely unplanned.
Dennis’s hands found Robby’s waist and pulled him closer.
Robby let out a growl against his mouth that vibrated straight through him.
It was hot.
Wet.
Needy.
Hungry.
Robby’s hands moved into Dennis’s hair pulling him closer, clenching his fist around the curly strands.
That made him moan into Robby's mouth, and press him back against the door without breaking their contact.
They were desperately pawing at each other, sloppy noises filling the apartment.
Robby let his hands track down Dennis’s body letting them grab behind his thighs.
He gripped him hard pulling him up off the ground. Dennis wrapped his legs instinctively around Robby’s waist.
Robby walked them back until he swung around sitting on the couch, leaving Dennis straddling him.
He began to grind against him trying to get as much friction as he could.
Robby felt his hardness against his chest. He grabbed him by the hips, helping him move faster and harder, chasing his own pleasure.
“Oh god Robby, I can't… this…you…Fuck.”
Dennis went completely rigid. His eyes clamped shut as he let out obscenities in a string of slurred gasps.
Seeing him come undone on top of him, pushed Robby to the edge. He clutched onto Whitaker and plummeted off, exhaling Dennis’s name as he came.
They both stayed like that panting, trying to catch their breath.
Dennis rocked his head back looking into Robby’s eyes. He giggled to himself and rested his forehead against Robby’s.
Robby looked up and placed a hot kiss onto Dennis' mouth pulling a soft satisfied moan out of him. He rubbed the side of his face affectionately, “You are beautiful,”
He placed one more kiss on Dennis’s lips before shifting slowly.
He stood up, squeezing Dennis tightly against his chest and carried him to the bathroom. Robby tenderly let the water fall over Dennis wiping away his skin with a cloth. He wrapped him in a towel and guided him to his bed.
They laid together, fingers intertwined. Dennis was playing with their fingers, as Robby nestled his face into the crook of Dennis’s neck. He trailed kisses all the way around, gripping Dennis’s chin and pulling him in for a deep kiss.
Dennis sighed.
Comfortable silence drifted them into a sleep.