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Everyday in the ER was the same; a cacophony of emotions blended into one constant drone of noise. The sounds of screams, a shrill consistent onslaught. People laughing through celebrations – often out of relief. Or just the general hubbub of people shuffling about, making conversation and going on with their day. Unfortunately, today was no exception. Upon her arrival, Trinity Santos was met with far too much yelling for 7 a.m. and found herself cursing for leaving her bed. A diversion to the locker room brought her a brief minute of solitude before the probable carnage, and general chaos, of her shift. Once changed into her scrubs, she reemerged and headed to central — thankfully spotting Dana immediately at her post.
“Hey, Dana,” Trinity said with a forced chipper — giving the desk a playful tap for added measure.
“Good morning, kid.” Dana smiled before tilting her head “No Whitaker?”
“He promised me he’d call in. He’s sick, seemed like he had some kinda cold — either way, it was not a pretty sight and I literally fought him to stay in bed. Ugh, he said he’d phone in for this.” Santos sighed before deflating slightly “I— uh.. would’ve stayed with him. But Dr Al-Hashimi is still on my back about my charting, and I’ve already used up my annual leave on that trip for me and Gar-”
Santos’ ramble was interrupted by the ER’s general phone ringing. Dana gave Santos an apologetic smile before answering.
“PTMC Charge Nurse. This is the Emergency Room, how can— Whitaker? Speak of the devil.” Dana mused, smirking into the handset.
Santos listened in slightly, figuring she had a moment before her shift truly started. From what she could make out, Whitaker didn’t sound great. The rasp she heard from him earlier had turned into a wheeze; now being accompanied by small coughs. Maybe she should’ve stayed with him, even if it did mean possible reprimands from her superiors. Now he had been left on his own, no support, just to rot in his illness. Perhaps there was still a chance for her superiors to kill her if in turn Whitaker died or something stupid. She snapped out of her spiral to actually hear what was being said, and from the sounds (or lack thereof) it didn’t seem like much was being relayed from Whitaker’s end.
“I.. Dana?” Whitaker’s small voice crackled from the speaker. Another cough.
“Yeah, Hon.” Dana said with barely concealed concern “Everything okay? Santos here said you were sick”
“She’s there?” Whitaker mumbled.
“Yep, staring at me right now.” Dana playfully held the handset closer to her mouth and lowered her volume “I bet she’s listening in. You can tell her ‘Hi’.”
As Dana holds the phone to the open space between herself and Trinity, there's a pause. Dana even checks to ensure Whitaker hadn’t hung up.
“Dennis?” Dana tentatively checked, her concern for the boy returning tenfold.
“Hi — uh.. yes? Yes, this is Dennis.” He suddenly blurted, startling the two women.
“Everything okay there?” Dana asked carefully.
“Uhm.. yep! Yeah, no.. all— all good here. Just, y’know..” Whitaker trailed, the line going silent once more.
“Y’know..?” Dana echoed, urging the boy for more signs of life, his nonsensical rambles only fueling the both of their worries.
“Uh, Trin said for me to call you? She said that— that it was to..? She said to call you. So I am,” He rambled.
“Okay, Hon..” Dana returned, silently sharing a deeply concerned look with Trinity over what the actual hell they just listened to.
“Oh, uh.. I am not coming to work. Because sickness — yeah, sickness. I am sick.” Whitaker continued blissfully.
“Alright, kid. You rest up and I’ll see if I can get someone to cover your shift, okay?”
“Mm.. thanks, Dana. You— you’re the best.”
With that, he finally hung up and the two women were left to silently reflect upon the bizarre, and quite frankly concerning, interaction. Dana carefully set the phone back upon the holder and looked up to see Santos’ barely concealed emotions slipping behind her mask. An outstretched arm, intended for comfort, paused once Santos’ front finally slipped and her emotions came to the forefront.
“Oh-h.. God. Oh, God. This is not good. I mean, who does that? Leaving him alone, like, he did not sound good. He— he could barely string a simple sentence. Let alone hold conversation. He must have a fever or at least — he sounded too altered to be left alone. Fuck! We literally work in a hospital. I should’ve just brought him in for at least a proper check..”
Santos was practically ripping her hair from the roots as her brows furrowed in an uncomfortable concern that ran throughout her entire being. She felt sick to her stomach as the possibilities of Dennis’ outcome ran through her mind. Images that always flashed to the worst ideas.
“Hey— hey, it’s okay. I’m calling Robby right now. He and Dr Keer are the only day shift off work today, alright? I’ll see if Keer is available for cover and ask Robby to swing by later and eyeball the boy — make sure he's okay, yeah?” Dana reassured her as Trinity nodded slightly in an attempt to regain her composure.
Trinity watched as Dana punched in a string of numbers with practiced ease and waited only moments before the man’s voice could be heard on the other end. God knows Trinity would never be up at this hour on her days off but she supposed old habits died hard when you have been working in the ER so long.
She focused on herself this time, attempting to stop her heart from launching out from her chest and forcefully filled her lungs to their maximum capacity. Each moment slowly brought her back to the present and away from her self proclaimed Whitaker doom. Fuckleberry. It was way too early for her to be worrying over that boy. Trinity never truly noticed when their relationship morphed into this. Where she’d tease Dennis for little things but would kill anyone who attempted such belittling. It was terrifying being this close to someone again. However, Trinity wouldn’t dare change it for the world. The handset being returned to its place with a loud click sent Trinity’s attention back towards Dana.
“Said he’d check on him later. So, all good?” Dana smiled warmly, giving Trinity that look that always saw through her prickly front.
“Yeah.. yeah — thanks a lot, Dana. Seriously. I— uh.. better grab a patient.” Trinity thanked her awkwardly and hurried away before embarrassment truly set in.
“Of course, kid.” Dana smirked fondly and watched as the girl hurried towards an occupied exam room.
Everything felt off. Dennis felt it creeping up in the previous hours but willed himself to stave it off — knowing his presence was required bright and early in the ER the next day. Now, he laid lost and delirious within his own fug. A blanket tangled in his limbs constricted him and the thin material felt like an impossible weight to lift. Dennis groaned with each flash of nausea sending him further into a dizzying daze; he felt as though he was travelling a high sea — regardless of the fact he remained rigidly motionless upon his bed.
Was this death? Dennis had no clue what he had done to ensure this wrath upon his karma. No actions immediately sprung to mind. In the morning, before Trinity left, Dennis had still set out upon completing his routine with a new found defiance. He disregarded his zombie-like stumble towards their kitchen in favour of proving himself healthy. However, Trinity took one glance at him from where she stood against the counter and was already nursing her first of many coffees. Before her stood something akin to an orphan ghost with how Dennis had wrapped himself tightly within his own blanket — the only evidence of identification being his ghastly pale face barely poking through.
“Woah — you feeling alright there, Huckleberry?” She’d said, already setting her mug down in favour of checking his temperature.
Dennis felt himself leaning into the coolness of the back of her hand, not realising the extent of the heat radiating within himself. He moved away before she had the chance to fully check, however she still found the brief moment of contact concerningly warm.
“Mmm.. just — tired..” Dennis had mumbled and rubbed his eye blearily in the hopes it would diminish the migraine he could feel skirting at the edges of his mind.
“Clearly..” Trinity frowned as she watched Dennis sway in the breeze before he continued onwards towards the pantry “..You sure you’re fine?”
She didn’t receive an initial response. Instead, she watched as Dennis began his usual routine with an added air of cautiousness and conciseness to his actions. Carrying himself with such rigidity and discomfort. Dennis was being odd, even for himself, and Santos would stop at nothing to be there for her friends. One slice of toast instead of two; plain instead of buttered. A glass of water in exchange for coffee. Yeah, something was definitely not right. If she had to corner him like a wild animal, then so be it. Tough love and all that.
“You’re sick.”
Santos decided upon abruptness as the best approach. Ripping off the bandaid, if you will. It seemed effective as Dennis momentarily spluttered upon the slice he was struggling to down.
“What —” Whitaker cleared his throat, a grating rasp remaining in his words “..What makes you say that?”
A single eyebrow raise was all it took to initially shut him down. Yet, within the haze of illness, Dennis’ stubbornness had found a new ignition and was burning concernedly high.
“I’m fine.” Dennis continued with a frown for extra measure as he began to stand once more as bid for freedom from this conversation.
The unnecessary tension had curled his stomach into a frenzy and made his measly slice of toast appear to be made from actual biohazards. Dennis thanked med school for that one as he swiftly dumped it in favour of not hurling his guts upon their kitchen flooring.
He was fine. All Trinity’s concern managed to achieve was making him feel agitated and cornered. He was fine. Why couldn’t his word be enough for her? Dennis didn’t need her doting over him and pestering him. He was a Doctor for crying out loud. Surely he of all people would know if he was sick. He felt unbridled anger blooming deep within his chest. An uncomfortable feeling he hadn’t felt in years. Each action in his surroundings only fed into the growing time bomb. The unnecessarily bright lights, the constant onslaught of traffic floors below, Santos’ heavy breathing —
Dennis’ head snapped up to that one. Before him, Santos stood with her gaze to the floor and feverishly rubbed up her temple with concealed irritation.
“I—” Dennis croaked out, the fight immediately vanishing from his veins — why was he so frustrated anyway?
“Dennis.” Trinity began, her voice unnervingly even as her gaze remained upon the floor boards before locking onto Dennis’ “Stop. Please.. just — you know you’re not well.”
Somehow, Whitaker managed to shrink himself smaller as he let her words wash over him. Maybe he was ill. Just a bit. Enough so that it was becoming a nuisance to his existence with each ailment providing him an added challenge.
“Maybe..” Dennis sighed and felt his blanketed shield droop as his taught grip loosened.
That was good enough for Santos. A quick glance at their shared calendar had her cringing with the confirmation of what she dreaded.
“Shit, you’re scheduled for a twelve hour shift today.” Santos all but winced as Dennis let out a pained groan. “Wait — you still have a few sick days left, right?”
Dennis halted his dramatics with a careful nod.
“This term.. should have plenty. But — they need me there.” Dennis whined slightly, feeling himself become lost again with high running emotions.
“I don’t wanna hear it! Right now, the best thing you can do for the ER is head back to bed so you don’t end up in a malpractice lawsuit — or something stupid.”
Still, Whitaker’s feet remained cemented in place. Trinity rolled her eyes and rounded her way towards the boy; using her hand upon his back as she carefully guided him towards his bed.
Like a mother tucking her child in, Santos found herself laying a blanket upon Dennis’ rigid figure — even literally tucking it under him as bid to get him to relax. Whatever cold was attacking the boy’s immune system must’ve been draining him as Dennis was out like a light the moment he was warm and wrapped tightly. Santos, against her will, nudged Whitaker back to consciousness briefly.
“Hey— sorry.. sorry,” Santos hushed, making sure she could see the whites of Dennis’ eyes before bombarding him with further instructions “I’m off to work now. Please don’t forget to call Dana, okay? Let her know you’re sick sooner than later.”
The only conformation she received was a haphazard thumbs up but that was good enough for her. She rewrapped his now exposed limb and apologetically left swiftly with the promise of take out upon her return — the sound of her fading voice lulled Dennis back to a dreamless sleep.
That must've been hours ago, judging by the sun now streaming in through his awfully thin blind — a camaraderie for getting up before early shifts now just a nuisance for his pounding head. Dennis managed to lose all sense of time and being as he laid still, his gaze pointed upwards and tracing the ceiling patterns between squinted eyelids. Suddenly he sat up, ignoring the swooning protest his head sent and the impending nausea he could feel returning. Dennis was supposed to be on shift. However, as he flung the blanket from himself, he only managed to catapult his phone across the room from wherever it had been hidden within his covers. Slowly the morning’s previous events trickled back to him. What was it Trinity asked? Something about talking with Dana or someone. Judging by his phone's new location, he guessed he did as asked — although slightly concerning he didn’t remember actually doing so.
Each movement felt like a marathon and Dennis couldn’t do much but succumb to his fatigue and settle back down to bed. Deciding his phone was future Dennis’ issue. He blinked slowly back into a sleep that felt like moments but, with a glance to his clock, surprisingly confirmed it had been closer to an hour. Dennis stifled a yawn that was cut short when he heard shuffling coming from outside his door. He froze, titling his head to ensure he was hearing correctly. The floorboards creaked in a way someone who didn’t frequent their place would cause — Dennis having learnt from Trinity which dodgy planks to avoid in the hallway. They couldn’t be getting burgled. Not today of all days. Dennis would probably end up handing everything over as his lack of energy rendered him defenceless.
Whoever it was, they were getting closer. Dennis held his breath when they came to a halt just outside his room. He could now hear their breathing and how it faltered before two firm knocks rang out. That snapped Dennis out of his spiral. What kind of polite burglar knocks before committing the crime? Dennis’ questions were soon answered as the door started to slowly crack open and allow the hallway light to filter in; rendering Dennis blind against the dimness of his bedroom. He shuffled back slightly as a silhouette head popped inside in the shape of a fifty-something year old man. Dennis couldn’t handle it anymore and scrunched his eyes shut tight.
“Please don’t rob me.” He begged, his bottom lip all but trembling in genuine fear.
That didn’t work. All it did was make the man approach him further.
“Please..” Dennis continued and reeled back slightly when he sensed the man now immediately beside him.
Dennis held his breath. He braced himself for what was to come. However, a gentle hand upon his shoulder was not quite what he expected. In surprise, Whitaker’s eyes flew open, locking onto a familiar brown pair before him. Dennis physically sagged in relief as he took in who they belonged to, scanning across the brunette hair and silver kissed beard. The man’s warm gaze, one that Dennis had practically memorised, now unrecognisable and pointed in a slight frown.
“Robby?” Whitaker whispered.
The man sighed in relief once it was evident that Dennis realised who he was. Mirroring Trinity’s previous concern, he lifted his palm up to Whitaker’s forehead to check his temperature himself.
“Yeah,” Robby smiled slightly with partial concentration. “How you feeling?”
Dennis huffed childishly and attempted to swat the man’s hand away with sluggish limbs.
“..’m fine, can everyone stop holding my head.”
That made Roby quirk his brow and smirk into a chuckle as he, much to Dennis’ secret displeasure, finally retracted his hand.
“You’re fairly warm so it is probable that you have a fever. You wouldn’t happen to own a thermometer?” Robby assessed, ready to launch into Doctor mode at the drop of a hat.
Whitaker was preparing himself to shake his head when he suddenly whipped round to stare at Robby with scrunched eyes.
“Wait — what are you doing here? Why are you here?”
His seemingly validated question managed to elicit an absolute bark of a laugh from the old man.
“Sorry, sorry..” Robby managed to get out as he took in Whitaker’s bewildered expression and finally calmed down. “Dana called me, said you ‘didn’t sound so hot’ when you called in sick and Santos was concerned about you being left alone.”
“Ah..” Whitaker paused, soaking up the information as a newfound warmth spread across his chest separate to his ailments.
“I tried calling you to let me in but it kept going to voicemail,” Robby continued “Had to call Santos in the end to find a spare key under the mat.”
“Oh— uh..” Whitaker pointed to the corner of the room his phone was currently occupying. “That might be why. Plus, it’s probably still on silent from yesterday's shift..”
“Best place for it.” Robby mused as he stood with an ageing groan to receive the flung device.
Turning it on, Whitaker was met with an onslaught of missed calls and text messages. The majority belong to Robby and Santos but a couple from the others in the Pitt ‘wishing him well’ and ‘get better soon'. It was sweet knowing the others sought out his lack of presence enough to check in on him. A foreign concept to the boy; to acknowledge that he was missed. A small paper box being dropped onto Dennis’ lap brought his attention back to his attending who was still in his room.
“What’s—” Whitaker began, being cut off by Robby reaching back out and opening the packet for him in favour of placing two cylindrical pills into his palm.
“Tylenol, here..” Robby handed him a water bottle “It will help your head.”
“Right, thanks.” Dennis mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow warm under Robby’s watchful gaze as he swiftly downed the pills.
A barely concealed shiver brought itself to the forefront as Dennis clenched further around his blankets; willing his jaw to remain stiff and chatter-free. Dennis finds himself being suddenly handed a wad of warm material from Robby. He held it briefly in his hands, a look of momentary confusion as he assessed it.
“Just put it on, Whitaker.” Robby chuckled.
Like a penny dropping, Whitaker uncurled the fabric revealing the dark blue zip up hoodie he had seen on the man many a time. The material was surprisingly soft as he felt it beneath his thumb. Slowly, he connected the dots and pulled the hoodie on; practically relaxing at the warmth spreading across his feverish body.
“Thanks,” Whitaker stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes in a bid to remain present for their conversation.
“Alright,” Robby began and patted the edge of Dennis’ bed as he stood with an extended groan “I’ll just be out—”
Panic flooded Whitaker’s senses. He didn’t want to be left alone in the apartment again. It felt eerie and stale with an empty chill nipping at the edges; each groan from a pipe installing a disproportionate amount of fear through him as his ill brain conjured up the worst possible scenarios for the sound's exact causes. With that, Dennis didn’t have time to second guess his actions and reached his arm out on reflex in a bid to catch Robby before he left him forever; left alone to rot.
“Stay..” Whitaker muttered, the shame of his actions finally catching up “Uh— please? Don’t go home..”
Robby just scratched the back of his head and shook his head into a chuckle. Opting not to embarrass Dennis by revealing he only planned to wait out for him in the living room. The momentary pause sparked new kinds of fear into Dennis, afraid he had crossed a line. But, he couldn’t find himself to care enough to retract his request when the other option was abandonment.
“Sorry—” Whitaker spluttered, finally lessening his vice grip upon the man’s wrist.
He felt childish. Sat there in bed, begging someone to coddle him. Robby didn’t deserve this, he shouldn’t have to deal with this. The shame brought the threat of tears ready to spill; just to add to his ongoing issue. He was an adult now. Surely that meant he could take care of himself.
“Hey— hey..” Robby hushed, noting the man’s apparent spiral. “Budge over — I don’t think my knees will survive the floor again.”
Dennis managed to scooch across to give the man enough space to join him — Dennis’ double bed supposedly providing the two of them with an HR appropriate distance. As Dennis resettled down, Robby joined him, the brief nip of the covers being retracted sending a jolt of shivers down his spine, pooling to settle comfortably into a buzz within his stomach. He curled up with his back to Robby, opting for it being a better option to not make this scenario any weirder for his attending. Robby himself got comfortable as he remained sat up, a pillow behind his head for added support, and looked down at Dennis. He ached at how impossibly small the man looked drowned by the wads of material pulled up to his nose.
“..’m sorry.. g’night.” Whitaker mumbled drowsily from behind the covers.
Whitaker would probably blame it on the fever, but a surprise hand ran softly through his hair and untensed his aching muscles. In turn, allowing him to drift off quickly with a warm feeling of content and security. Each brush allowed him to relax more into the mattress and briefly forget about the attack on his immune system. Dennis’ world slowly shrank to just himself and the man settled beside him — Robby’s radiating heat acting as a reminder to Dennis’ assurance. He was here, he was safe.
Consciousness returned to Dennis in waves. The first thing that came to him was how unnaturally warm he felt. Right, he was sick. Dennis groaned and went to yank his covers off; stubbornly refusing to open his eyes and accept he was awake. Upon pulling his sheet back, Dennis’ hand met a solid mass in place of his plush mattress. A solid mass that moved under his hand as he stilled in shock. Now, Dennis was truly awake; his eyelids snapped open and looked up, making contact with his Robby’s. His attending was in his bed. His attending was in his bed. Casual, Dennis willed, this is casual. Just something colleagues do. He’s sure Robby would’ve done this for anyone else who called in sick. Okay, maybe not for Santos but his point still stands. Nor Langdon. Still, it wasn’t weird — only if he allowed it to be.
“Good morning,” Robby said, his lips quirked into a faint smirk, sharply regaining Dennis’ focus.
“Heh—.. morning.”
Dennis internally cringed at the awkward hoarseness of his voice. Finally, Dennis noticed that Robby appeared to be reading a book on his phone, his reading glasses perched precariously upon the tip of his nose. A sight that made his stomach painfully lurch in a way he was certain was down to its lack of contents.
“Mm.. what time is it?” Dennis yawned around a big stretch, untaggling limbs he wasn’t aware were overlapped with Robby’s.
“Hmm,” Robby checked his watch “About one o’clock. You feel like you can have something to eat?”
“I probably should..”
“C’mon, I’ll make you some lunch,” Robby said with a reassuring squeeze to Dennis’ shoulder, carefully encouragign the man up. An action he had all but become familiar with coming from the older man.
Dennis felt completely drained and willingly allowed himself to be guided out towards the living room by Robby — his blanket still wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he was deposited upon the sofa. Embarrassingly, Dennis still felt wobbly upon solid ground, his legs continuing to betray him, making him heavily reliant upon Robby to traverse the oh so far distance of ten paces between his bedroom door and the lounge furniture.
“Alright..” Robby began, already starting to open some cabinets “What’ve you got food wise?”
“Uhh.. we should have some bread in the far cabinet? Maybe.. I know we have some cheese and stuff in the fridge.” Dennis listed as he looked up to fight off the persistent dizziness.
“Thanks,” Robby chuckled. “I’ll hunt about.”
Dennis listened to the clattering coming from behind him as Robby did just that. A repetition of drawers and cabinets being open and closed repeatedly, accompanied by a sudden pop of the toaster, became a soothing white noise. He must’ve dozed off again as next thing he knew Robby was back in front of him placing a sandwich and a glass of water at the coffee table by his knee.
“It’s a grilled cheese of sorts. Didn’t seem to have a toastie machine so I improvised with just the toaster and melted it that way.” Robby explained as he took a seat beside Dennis on the couch.
“I— uh.. thanks,” Dennis said earnestly and felt his ears grow warm from all the attention.
Dennis noticed Robby had settled himself down with an identical lunch and followed suit once the man took a bite. For something so simple, Dennis felt he hadn’t tasted anything as marvellous. Or that might’ve been the hunger talking — he was acutely aware he hadn't had a proper meal in a fair few hours. In fact, he was suddenly aware of what the hour was.
“Oh-h my god,” Dennis began, attempting to stand on wobbly legs “I’m late for my shift. I’ve uh— gotta go.”
Dennis only made it a couple paces before Robby launched into action and slid himself between the man and the door — a hand firmly on his shoulder. Both to ensure he remained upright and wouldn’t slip away.
“Dennis— Dennis..” Robby attempted to get Dennis’ glazed expression to refocus “You’re sick. You’re not on shift today, yeah?”
“But I—”
One quirk from Robby’s eyebrow was all it took to extinguish whatever argument Dennis was attempting to form.
“Sorry..” Dennis muttered
“It’s okay,” Robby sighed “Just— eat something. You might feel better.”
Robby’s hand shifted to rest upon the small of Dennis’ back, the slight pressure guiding them back to the couch. This time they situated themselves with Robby closer to the exit, the older man occasionally casting Dennis with a side glance to ensure he was both eating and not planning another escapade. Dennis was grateful as Robby turned the TV on to a mellow channel. It allowed the room to fill with a background noise that washed away any air of awkwardness as the two ate side by side.
Once they both finished their respective lunches, Dennis taking his time to ensure it remained safely down, their focus shifted to finally give the TV their full attention. However they swiftly found themselves engrossed in it and let the mindnumbing reality show wash over them. Something about getting married to a stranger. Dennis couldn’t grasp why someone would do such a thing but it definitely wasn’t the most absurd thing he’d heard of. Working in an ER numbs you to the majority of society’s stupidity — yet they still found ways to surprise him each day. As unnecessary drama kicked off again, he found himself zoning out, the bride having a go at her newly wed husband. Once she started crying, Dennis fully lost focus and shifted to Robby.
“I didn’t know you were into this kinda stuff?” Dennis enquired, turning to Robby who was far more engaged than himself.
“Oh, yeah, Janey got me into it,” Robby admitted with a bashful chuckle “It’s so bad that it’s good. Oh, come on. There’s no way she’s still upset — he didn’t do anything wrong.”
Dennis opted to watch Robby, noticing how his eyebrows furrowed slightly with concentration. How, for once, Robby let each expression be clear as he found himself further engrossed — talking to the characters as if he were there himself. Dennis could barely hold back his chuckle as he took in the sight — finding it oddly endearing. He wasn’t sure that was the appropriate description when directed at his older attending. But, he found himself falling short of any other description. Dennis' chuckle quickly devolved into a cough, the switch up receiving him a concerned side glance until he was able to regain his composure. Again, he spluttered. Now, Robby turned to him, the question to check in on the tip of his tongue until Dennis’ repeated coughs switched to quickly progressing gags. Dennis wanted to warn him but found his voice strangled by a lurch within his stomach and an onslaught of warm saliva pooling in his mouth.
“Ah— Hang on!” Robby said hurriedly and sprung up from the sofa at an unprecedented speed “Shit, I should’ve grabbed this already..”
Dennis felt rotten. His insides fought to claw themselves free. Each lurch sent sparks of overwhelming nausea that he was failing to control. In a last second bid, Whitaker held his palm firmly over his mouth as Robby frantically dashed back to the kitchen — now going through the cupboards with expert speed in a frenzied hunt for any bowl.
“Come on.. come on..” Robby muttered to himself, the seconds dragging with each cupboard proving more useless than the last “Aha!”
Robby grabbed it and launched himself in Dennis’ direction. The bowl was barely in the man’s lap when Dennis lost his fight against his body. With one final lurch, Dennis felt his stomach contract and the saliva pooling in his mouth was soon replaced by bile. He heaved and clenched his eyes shut in a bid to recenter himself. Any attempt to block out the sound of his spew connecting violently with the bowl was futile. Again, Dennis felt a hand return to his scalp. The touch light and brushing as he fought against himself. He wanted to focus on it. Willed himself to pay attention to the warmth spreading within his head as a bidding distraction from the unpleasantries releasing from himself.
“It’s okay,” Robby reassured as Dennis choked out pitiful apologies between deep breaths, the sound catching in his throat.
Once Robby was certain Dennis had no more to throw up, he carefully got the man to stand, although the bowl remained fixed by his chin as a precaution. Dennis’ sun kissed skin now looked akin to a ghastly gray as the exhaustion of his body’s rejection rendered him to the bare bones — any remaining energy scattering as he could only concentrate on remaining upright and not vomiting upon Robby. Now that would be embarrassing. He doesn’t care how much Robby would reassure him it would be fine, he’d never live it down. All his thought of vomit was risking another reappearance of whatever remained in his stomach after that star performance. Thankfully, the two of them were soon at the bathroom and Dennis was better situated at the toilet bowl — grateful to be rid of his festering vomit as he sheepishly handed it off to Robby.
When Robby returned, he’s not sure what he expected, but seeing Whitaker curled up in a ball upon the uncomfortably cold bathroom tiles was not quite it. Immediately, the worst outcomes sprang to mind and he cursed himself for leaving Dennis unattended.
“Dennis—” Robby sprung forward and was in the midst of putting the man into the recovery position, after ensuring he was breathing and had a pulse, when he felt grumbled complaints beneath him.
“Stop..” Dennis mumbled, his voice painfully cracking against his will “Just, stop — please.”
“Okay, okay,” Robby held his hands up apologetically and shuffled back to give Dennis space to breathe.
They sat in silence for a while, the only noise accompanying them being Dennis’ occasional sniffle. Robby could all but watch from where he sat on the floor at Dennis’ painfully curled form. Fighting every urge to place a hand upon the younger’s shaking shoulders but knowing better than to go against his will. Eventually, the shakes subsided to shivers once Dennis’ core body temperature dropped and returned him to the sensation of tiles biting in through the thin layer of his shirt and nipping coldly at his sides.
“I’m sorry..” Dennis cringed at yet another apology spilling from himself, finding no other words as he whispered his broken string of consciousness. “This is— gross. You.. you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Especially on your day off..”
“I can assure you this is nowhere near the grossest thing I've witnessed, Dennis.” Robby chuckled pitifully, his eyes boring into Dennis’ sides for any sign of movement. “But, either way, it’s okay. Sometimes people need to accept help from others and that’s okay, yeah?”
Slowly, Robby watched as Dennis peeled himself from where he lay. In a blink, he found himself with a sudden armful of the younger man as Dennis slumped against him — the day’s exhaustion truly settling in.
“Thank you, seriously. I uh— don’t.. no one's ever done this for me before. So, thanks ,” Dennis leant his head further into Robby’s shoulder, letting the man’s warmth ground him. “Also, hypocrite.”
Robby felt his breath catch within his throat at Dennis’ raw confession, only able to let out a breathy chuckle at Dennis’ comment murmured into his shoulder as his thoughts became preoccupied; the younger man’s blasé reaction to his own blatant neglect staggering him.
“Mm.. the bathroom floor really isn’t comfortable,” Dennis commented, wanting to fill the silence.
“Yeah..” Robby agreed with a slight chuckle.
Yet, neither made any intentions to stand and allowed themselves a moment within the other’s presence.
“Dennis.. what did you mean by ‘no one’s done this before’?” Robby enquired with unmasked concern and attempted to catch other’s darting gaze.
“Oh, shit. I didn’t get any puke on your hoodie, right?” Dennis blurted.
Dennis’ sudden concern cut through their moment of tranquility as he looked down at his arms. Only once he was certain they were safe did he resettle — despite Robby’s assurance it was just a piece of clothing. Still, Robby found himself taking a firm grip upon Dennis’ shoulder and having to drag the younger man back towards him; Dennis retaking his place by Robby’s side with little to no resistance.
“Dennis.”
“Right— uh.. you know how my family wasn’t exactly medically educated? Yeah, they believed the best medicine was to just pray the sickness away. That uhm— sorry.. They said illness was God’s way of punishing sin within His world. That it was set out to expose the sinners walking among us..”
“Christ, kid..” Robby sighed in sympathy. “I’m sorry”
“Obviously, I know now that isn’t true. But, yeah..”
“Still,” Robby stated, leaning his chin into the fluff of Denis’ head, and exhaled the sorrow he felt for the man.
“I’m uh— feeling better now,” Dennis admitted despite not wanting this moment to end, his tensed muscles loosening with each warm brush of Robby’s exhales grounding his raced mind.
Would he spend eternity ill if it meant he got to spend it with his unnecessarily attractive attending? To Dennis’ shame, the answer was most likely he would.
“I’m glad,” Robby smiled down to Whitaker “You think you can walk to the couch? I seriously don’t think my back can last any longer on the floor unfortunately..”
“Yeah.” Dennis chuckled, “Sure thing, old man.”
Robby just rolled his eyes despite the warm smile spreading across his face as he helped Dennis to stand. Fingers grazing at Dennis’s waist leaving bursts of energy burning beneath his ribcage — contorting his stomach into a series of flutters as he staved off a shiver.
“There you are.” Robby chuckled “You had me worried for a sec. Can’t have my best physician flanking on me, huh?”
Still, he remained pressed into Robby’s side. The man’s warmth unmissible and leaving Dennis yearning for more.
“Hah, uh..yeah,” Dennis opted to avoid the man’s glowing comment, "Must've been some kinda twenty-four hour bug someone brought into the ER..”
“Must’ve.” Robby echoed. “God forbid— but, next time you can just call me, okay? I don’t want to receive a panicked call from Dana saying you sound delirious and on your own.”
“Probably wasn’t the best idea..”
“Mm.. probably. But, you can stop your worrying. Seriously, I can hear your brain working overtime from here. I don’t blame Santos for any of this. She did what she deemed best in the scenario she was dealt. No harm no foul?”
Dennis goes to interject a second time when Robby cuts him off.
“Ah— ah! And, I’m not mad at you either, okay? These things happen.” Robby said pressingly to force the message across.
“I— thank you..” Dennis deflated and turned to face Robby front on.
At long last, Dennis turned their side grab into an intense hug. He reached his arms up above his attending’s shoulders and buried himself within the confines of Robby’s chest. The latter paused only momentarily before returning their common shared affiliation — unable to retain his jaw cracking grin from spreading across his face as he wrapped his arms around the younger’s waist. At that moment, time paused. The universe for once remembered to breathe as both their chests rose and fell in harmony. A start, a shift, something new and yet not strange; finding themselves irrevocably intertwined in ways they believed was impossible and unattainable. A painfully welcome devotion to a change that promised them forever union.