being a loser with you doesn't suck (santos&whitaker roommate series)
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“I’d ask if you slept okay, but you look like shit, so I’m gonna guess not.”
Whitaker gulps down a mouthful of water too quickly and coughs. “I slept fine,” he says hoarsely. Trinity raises a skeptical eyebrow, tossing the balled-up paper towel between her hands. “Really,” he insists. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept without keeping one eye on the door.” He ducks his chin again, all “gee, shucks” farmboy sheepish, and the tops of his ears are pink. “Thank you for…all of this. It really means a lot.”
The earnestness makes Trinity want to poke meanly at his stomach until he curls over it protectively. She squeezes the paper towel tighter instead. “Whatever. I had the room. It’s no big deal.”
or, Trinity's first day having a
wet cat of a med studentman for a roommateSeries
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Growing up, Dennis thought praying with verses from the Bible was more powerful. As if he could use evidence from the Book to prove why whatever he was asking for was good and right. Now, he wonders if it was a crutch. A way to get around having to put his faith into his own words. I would have made a terrible priest, he thinks.
Dennis shakes his head. Now isn’t the time for self-pity, he should be focusing on Teddy. Dennis tries to come up with a verse, but it’s been a while since he reread the Bible. Only Isaiah 40 comes to mind. Let Teddy soar on wings like eagles, Dennis thinks. Let him run and not grow weary. Let him walk and not be faint.
Please, Dennis thinks more desperately. Let him beat the odds.
or, the first week+a day of Dennis being an emergency medical student and Santos' roommate. He isn't quite sure he's meant to be either.
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“Watch where you’re going, Jesus,” Trinity says as she tugs Whitaker out of the way of a cyclist speeding across the sidewalk. “Whatever you’re looking for can’t be more important than not getting a fucking concussion.”
“I’m looking for—ah!—this.” Whitaker retrieves his quarry—a lumpy, squarish package wrapped in a plastic bag—and holds it out to Trinity.
“The fuck is it?” She wrinkles her nose and makes no move to take it.
“When I didn’t hear anything from your room, I figured you’d slept in and maybe wouldn’t have time to make your own lunch, so I made an extra sandwich.” Whitaker keeps holding it out to her despite whatever likely-mutinous look she’s giving him.
“If you knew I was still sleeping, you could’ve woken me up, asshole,” she seethes.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Oh, I’m definitely not brave enough for that.”
*
or, Trinity's first few weeks at the Pitt are spent trying to prove herself as a doctor, deal with all the rumors going around, and figure out what she wants out of this weird thing with Garcia. In all that chaos, she doesn't notice Whitaker sneaking past her defenses until it's already too late.
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