Work Text:
Being a veteran, a widower, and a nighttime emergency room doctor might have messed with Jack's protectiveness a bit. First and foremost, it was important to point out that Jack was in therapy to deal not only with this problem but with the hundreds of other issues he struggled with internally. And secondly, no one could blame him for being as attentive as a bloodhound when the person who mattered most to him in that hospital and throughout his life was a young man in his late twenties, as kind as Mother Teresa of Calcutta and as scared as a beta in a fishbowl. Okay, Whitaker was actually almost thirty, but almost thirty isn't thirty, and even if he were thirty, it would still be a long way from Abbot's current age. The attending physician also knew that Dennis had been through a lot and that he was very good at handling himself, but that didn't mean he needed to be. Damn, Jack couldn't help but worry about his boyfriend amid the dangers of an emergency room, not when he had that wet cat face. That was why Abbot had been working double shifts, starting when they officially started dating a few weeks ago. And overwork was the reason for the argument he was having with Robby right now.
“I can accept you double it, with a lot of disagreement, but I can. But triple it’s crazy. Go away, Jack. I don’t want to see your stupid face here anymore for at least three days.”
Michael Robbinavich, like a good attending physician, arrived early to help the early shift finish up. The day shift was slowly approaching, but it was still too early to demand anything. That morning had been rough, with many homeless people, drug users, and even pickpockets. Jack spent the entire night rushing to get all those guys treated quickly so they could be discharged before the sun shows up at the sky. Unfortunately, there were some complications, and some of the suspicious faces would need to be kept under observation for longer. That's when Jack made the decision to spend another twelve hours in the hospital, totaling thirty-six hours. He would be dead by the end of the day, but atleast he would be sure that his pretty boyfriend wasn’t actually dead. That's when he pulled Robby aside and reported a double shift. The veteran rolled his eyes at the taller man's drama. His crossed arms tightened in irritation. Jack tensed his shoulders and spread his legs wider, defending himself against whatever defense he had.
“I’m good, can triple it. It’s fine, Robby”
“I don’t want you on my shift. Go away.”
“Are you expelling me?”
Robby sighed tired.
“Yeah, I am.”
Jack laughed.
“Man… you need to chill.”
Robby was about to protest again when a third presence invaded the room.
"Good morning." Large, curious eyes entered the room, the blue pair focused like headlights directly on Jack.
Jack uncrossed his arms and smiled crookedly at the medical student.
"Good morning, Dr. Whitaker."
"Medical student," the boy corrected in that stupidly humble way he had. Jack found it adorable. "Good morning, Dr. Abbot."
Whitaker smiled shyly at the attending physician standing in front of him. Fiddling with the single strap of his backpack, Dennis stared through his eyelashes at Abbot's tired face. The boy slowly approached the veteran doctor, his own expression growing worried as he noticed the large dark pools beneath Jack's eyes. Dennis was about to reach out and touch the taller man's pale face, but was stopped mid-step.
Robby cleared his throat forcefully, shattering the romantic comedy atmosphere.
"Good morning to you too, Whitaker." Robby raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, swaying with his arms still crossed.
Whitaker, suddenly aware of his true attending physician's presence, blushed at his own rudeness and senselessness in flirting in the middle of the hospital.
"G-good morning, Dr. Robby," Whitaker said, pulling away from Abbot.
Jack and Dennis had been together for a few weeks, but nothing had been officially declared. Not that Jack cared much about what others thought of their relationship; it was a concern that might have affected Robby, who was naturally a worrier. But him? Abbot had more to worry about, like Dennis. The boy was, in fact, the only thing he cared about lately, besides his own patients. But Jack cared deeply about his protégé's future in the field they worked in, since Jack knew all too well how biased medicine could be, on more than one issue. So, as always, Jack was being safe before he was sorry.
However, Robby, being the bastard he was, figured out the whole situation before Jack even had a chance to tell him. Not that Abbot was hiding it from his friend, anyway. But he never brought it up directly, just assuming Robby already knew about it on his own.
"Whitaker, could you give us a minute? I'm trying to yell at Dr. Abbot," Robby said quietly and gently, with a hint of dry humor in his tone.
Whitaker nodded quickly in agreement. Obedient as always, Jack didn’t knew if we should be terrified or horny.
"Sure! Sure! I just wanted to say goodbye before the shift change," Dennis muttered.
"No need to say goodbye, Whitaker." Jack placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere." Jack smiled at Robby with a defiant expression.
Robby grunted in frustration, rubbing his hands through his already messy hair.
"I'll leave you two alone." Robby sighed. "But this isn't over yet, Jack Abbot." Robby pointed at the other doctor as he walked away. "It's not over yet!" Robby shouted down the hall.
Jack murmured, feeling victorious.
Dennis shook off the older man's touch and turned so they were face to face.
"What are you doing here, Jackie?" Dennis murmured worriedly, his wide eyes scanning his boyfriend's face.
"Hmm, working?" Jack raised an eyebrow, which made Dennis make that irritated hamster face. "Wrong answer?"
"Jack! You've been here all day!" "Please go home.” Dennis said irritably, or at least it sounded irritated. Jack wasn't sure, he sometimes mistook Whitaker for a care bear.
"I'm not staying all day, just a few more hours! It's okay, I can handle it!" Jack placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders, calming him.
"A few more hours, and then you'll go back home, get no sleep, and then you'll have to go back to the graveyard shift," Dennis grumbled.
"I'll have tonight off, it's okay."
Whitaker frowned.
"I thought your day off wasn't for another two nights."
Jack shrugged.
"Well, I've been working here for twenty-four hours. For god sake, Whitaker, I need to rest too," Abbot whispered knowingly.
The younger man rolled his eyes.
"Besides, if I take today off, what will Gloria do? Send me away?" Jack laughed. "She needs me.”
"I'm serious. Go home! Get some rest, I'll stop by later."
"And you're going to sleep with me?" Jack raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Only if you go now."
The attending physician shook his head, his hands dropping to Dennis's hips briefly.
"Hmm, I'll think about it." And then he left.
Whitaker shook his head, watching the older man walk away toward another occupied bed. The young man sighed deeply and turned to go to his locker, meeting a newly arrived Trinity along the way.
"Hey, huckleberry!" Greeted the girl.
"Hi, Trin!" They gave a small, knowing handshake as they walked together toward the lockers. "Dr. Garcia's car accelerator was working well today? You're never on time when you sleep over."
"That's because we didn't sleep, so it was easy to be on time." Dennis laughed. "Talk loud like that one more time and I'll make you sleep with the neighbor's dogs forever."
Dennis laughed as he opened his locker.
"You can't threaten me like that anymore. I have a different place to sleep now."
Santos rolled her eyes, shoving her purse into her closet roughly.
"Ever since Abbot put that stupid ring on your finger, you've been a pain in the ass." She slammed the door shut and leaned her shoulder against the metalwork while crossing her arms.
Dennis smiled shyly, remembering the material encircling her right ring finger. It was the first time he’d worn a ring in twenty-six years.
"Did you heard?" Santos asked as he waited for his friend to carefully pack his things in his locker.
"Hmm?" Dennis murmured.
"The hospital is full of inmates these days. Criminals, drug dealers, I've even heard of murderers. The entire gang in Pittsburgh is in this emergency room." Santos leaned toward Dennis as he whispered.
Dennis closed his locker and turned to his friend.
"First of all, even if they're legally wrong, they're still our patients." Whitaker had that tired look he got every time he had to explain a basic ethical principle of general humanity. "Secondly, you seriously need to stop talking to the nurses."
The blond turned his back and walked away.
"You're the one who says I have to know all their names! I didn't even want to get involved!" Santos shouted as Whitaker walked away.
Halfway to the station, Dennis saw the owner of the city's most beautiful gray curls in yet another blood-soaked bed. The young man sighed wearily and looked around, searching for a divine answer that could help him with his problem.
"Dr. Robby!" Whitaker shouted when his eyes found the blue sweatshirt across the hall. The attending physician turned toward his call, and Whitaker ran to him.
"Dr. Robby! You need to do something, Dr. Abbot isn't leaving yet.” Whitaker whined.
Robby laughed at the younger man's manners.
"I thought you liked him, boy.” Robby said as he stared at the tablet perched on his waist, his reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
"Not when he decides to work a thirty-six-hour shift."
Robby shook his head and turned his gaze to the shorter doctor.
"Yeah, I don't like it when Jack gets stubborn either. Unfortunately, he's naturally very stubborn, so I try to overlook it so I don't dislike him every day." Robby adjusted his glasses with his index finger. "Relax, kid. I'll talk to him one more time. By eight o'clock in the morning, his face will no longer be in this ER. I'll make that effort for everyone's sake."
Whitaker sighed wearily and continued walking toward the center, leaving his attending physician behind. With his shoulders slumped, the blond walked to the counter where Dana sat and rested his elbows on the surface as he tried to focus on the patient chart.
"Good morning, Dana," Dennis murmured, his fingers under his lips.
"Good morning, Cowboy!" Dana said with that humor only she could muster at that early hour. Dennis smiled weakly at her, his eyes still focused on the center's large screen. He felt the woman's gaze burning into his face, knowing she was studying his mood like she did everyone else in that hospital. "Is everything okay, sweetie? You look too tired for someone who should have slept all night.”
Dennis bit his lower lip.
"Hmm, Abbot's still at the hospital."
Dana laughed.
"I thought you liked the guy."
Whitaker almost rolled his eyes, but he knew it was rude to do that to Dana.
"I like it when he gets at least eight hours of sleep a night, at least four, I'm not picky."
Dana laughed.
Dana was the only other person besides Robby who knew, and she did know, she had this information on her own. The story is simple enough: she saw Jack surrounding the young medical student and cornered him against the wall with a sharp threat on the tip of her tongue. Dennis had to intervene and tell him it was okay. Jack told her later he'd never been so terrified in his entire life.
"I heard he wants to double up again." Dana sighed deeply. "And it's your fault."
Whitaker frowned, looking up from the TV and staring at Dana, who was working tirelessly with her hands under the counter.
"Excuse me?" Whitaker blinked in disbelief. "What do you mean, my fault?"
Dana briefly stopped what she was doing to put her hands on her hips and look at Dennis with that expression of someone talking to a complete idiot.
"Do you really think a war veteran like Jack would leave his gingerbread man alone in a hospital full of hyenas and cavemen, the patients we have today?"
Dennis's eyes widened.
"Do you think that's why he wants to bend over? To keep an eye on me?" Whitaker bent over the counter.
"I don't think, kid." Dana leaned in. "I know."
There wasn't much Whitaker could say, first because he didn't know what to say. And second, suddenly Langdon was at his side, talking fast and loud as always, and dragging him into some case he needed his help with.
For his own sanity, the medical student buried that story in the back of his mind.
The first case of the day was a thirty-year-old man with a concussion. He looked a little disheveled, with dirty hair and a beard sticking out everywhere. Dennis suspected he was homeless. The concussion wasn't that bad, but the blow had been severe enough to knock him out and remain that way ever since. Dennis examined the patient with Langdon's guidance and ordered some necessary tests. The nurses took over, and soon Dennis ran to check if anyone else needed help.
"Hey, Whitaker!" The blond heard a female voice calling him over the hospital noises.
"Good morning, Dr. McKay!" Whitaker smiled.
"Come on! I said you can call me Cassie." The redhead smiled.
"Sorry, it's just habit." Dennis shrugged.
"I have a car accident coming up in five minutes. You have exactly fifteen seconds to accept it before your friend Dr. Santos shows up begging for the case."
Whitaker laughed.
"I'm in, thanks."
"You're welcome. I thought it would be good for you to take on more complicated cases. I know losing patients makes us afraid, but we can't let it consume us." Dennis nodded in agreement. Cassie looked at him pityingly for a moment before leaning in and whispering. "Also, Robby told me to ban you from triage today."
Dennis laughed.
The two doctors turned at the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor.
"Dr. McKay, please…" Santos was about to begin his ritual of humiliation to land a radical case, but Cassie held up her hand, interrupting her.
"Sorry, Whitaker already got it." McKay turned to prepare for the patient who was arriving.
Whitaker hid the laugh he wanted to give at Santos's defeat. The boy could hear a murmur of "traitor" before she walked away.
The blond resumed walking through the emergency room corridors, now following Cassie to help her with the impending accident. But the boy stopped in his tracks when he saw an unwelcome presence chatting with Mateo on the corner of a block.
He was going to let it go, he really was; he had a patient in less than a few minutes. But Dana's words came back to him, making him act quickly.
Before his brain could even process them, his hand was already encircling a stiff bicep and dragging him somewhere else.
"Got a second?"
Jack nodded and said a quick goodbye to the nurse before escorting Dennis to a quieter area.
"Did something happen?" Abbot looked worried, immediately scanning the younger man's entire body for signs of alarm.
"No, no... nothing. It's just..." Dennis bit his lip, drawing Jack's attention, who still looked confused. "It's true you're working double shifts because you don't want to leave me alone with so many delinquent patients around the hospital," Whitaker spat out.
Jack froze for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say, or unable to process the information. This was unusual; Dennis was rarely that direct.
"Uhm..." Abbot seemed to think. "It depends?"
"It depends?" Whitaker crossed his arms.
"If I say yes and you get mad, then my answer will be no."
Whitaker grunted in response.
"Jack, are you seriously?" Whitaker said, somewhat in disbelief.
The older man looked at him a little guiltily.
"Jack!" Dennis ran his hands over his face in irritation. The boy turned three-sixty degrees, looking around as if searching for something to calm himself. The blond turned toward Jack, who wanted to shrink back when he saw the younger man's irritated expression. Dennis placed one hand on his hip, while the other used it to point at the attending physician's chest. "Look, I'm not a child! I know I'm younger than you and all, but if you see me that way, we have a very serious problem here!"
Jack tried to open his mouth to retort, but gave up when he saw the other's eyes widen even more at his audacity.
"I don't want you watching me around here like I'm a sheep in a pasture, I don't need your protection! I'm a grown man who can take care of himself perfectly well, and if anything happens on my watch, I'll definitely report it to Dr. Michael Robbinavich, not run off and tell my tough boyfriend that someone hurt me! Do you understand me?" Whitaker frowned at the other.
Jack stared back at him, frozen.
"Jack, I asked you a question. Do you understand me?" Dennis poked his index finger into the other's chest.
Abbot nodded in agreement, still hesitant to say anything.
Dennis pulled his hand away, but his sullen expression remained. The younger man approached the other, his hands still on his hips, still staring him in the eye.
"This hospital has five permanent security guards and at least ten police officers who circulate here at all times. I know it seems small, and that's because it is, but believe me, Jack, if something happens—and God bless it, you won't be quicker than Ahmad," Dennis whispered against Jack's tense face. "Now I have to go, because I have a lot to learn. But if I see you here in these hallways again today, Jack, you'll have to start hugging pillows to keep warm during your nights off."
The attending physician nodded obediently and watched in silence as the younger man turned and disappeared into the emergency room hallways.
Abbot was still processing his boyfriend's irritable and unusual behavior when he heard a whistle coming from behind him.
"Wow!" A loud laugh echoed through the hallway. "That was interesting to see. I didn't realize Whitaker could be so bossy."
Jack didn't need to turn around to see the amused smile on Robby's face, because he knew the other man well enough to know it was definitely there. Michael appeared in his field of vision, his large hands gripping the stethoscope around his neck.
"Do not start.” Jack muttered, irritated and a little defeated.
"I'm not saying anything!" The other man held up his hands in surrender. "But you know the kid's right."
The veteran rolled his eyes.
"I suppose so." Jack snorted and crossed his arms.
Michael rocked back and forth, pretending not to stare at the smaller doctor's face with amusement.
"Uhm," Robby hummed. "So what are you going to do now?"
Jack frowned and looked back at him.
"Go back home, for god sake! What else I’m supposed to do on this situation?"
Robby chuckled.
"Yeah, my friend. The kid's got you good. I've never seen anyone bend you like that before. Even if you're wrong, you never leave an argument without having the final say." Robby whistled. "An impressive battle, that."
Jack looked away.
"What can I do? The guy really knows how to massage an amputated leg.” Abbot grumbled.
Robby let out a nasal laugh.
Abbot sighed again and looked at the other doctor with a weary look, as if he had truly spent a whole day working tirelessly. Michael was happy that his friend had found someone persistent enough to keep him from succumbing to his own stubbornness. He himself had hoped that one day he would find someone like Whitaker, but deep down, he had already given up hope.
Abbot was about to extend his hand and shake Michael's hand goodbye when a female scream rent the air in a nearby hallway. Both doctors stared at each other before rushing toward the impending commotion.
The scene they encountered was a patient struggling aggressively on the gurney, being held down by two nurses and a student who looked as if they would be violently thrown to the ground at any moment.
The doctors rushed to opposite sides of the gurney and held the man's body.
"What happened, Dr. Santos?"
"Patient found unconscious in the middle of the street with bleeding from the head. Tests revealed a mild concussion. He had been unconscious until then, but stable. Until he woke up with aggressive behavior.”
Robby shouted over his shoulder, ordering the nurse to administer a medication that would calm the patient. Robby and Abbot continued to hold the uncontrollable man until the medication took effect.
"Dr. Santos, any likely diagnoses for the violent behavior?" Abbot shouted amid threats from the man he was holding.
"Opioid use?" Trinity asked, frowning.
"Dilated pupils, excessive sweating, extreme tremors. Bingo!" Abbot nodded at the student.
"Just order tests that confirm this, before Dr. Mohan discovers we're diagnosing based on the obvious and gets involved in the case," Robby said between weary sighs.
The medication, administered slowly, began to take effect. Gradually, the patient's arms and legs began to feel heavy, and his movements slowed. Until his eyes closed completely, and the attending physicians breathed a sigh of relief.
"I don't understand. The patient is clearly homeless, and his symptoms suggest the most obvious hypothesis of drug use. Why would Dr. Mohan disagree with that?"
"Yeah." Robby groaned wearily. "If you don't want to be eaten alive, it's best never to pre-diagnose a patient based on social prejudices." Robby rubbed his hands over his head.
"Or pre-diagnose on the obviously." Jack gave the girl an amused wink.
A blond head suddenly appeared beside Trinity. His chest strained from the likely rush, a pair of blue eyes stared alarmedly at the now-stabilized situation.
"I heard the nurses talking about a violent patient. Do you need any help around here?"
"Everything's under control, Whitaker. Thanks for your concern." Robby thanked him with a gentle smile.
Whitaker nodded, then his eyes fell on the other person in the room. His eyes connected with Jack's, who had been staring at him since the boy entered the bed. They stared briefly, tension building between their shoulders, then Jack averted his eyes to the floor, biting the inside of his mouth as he hid his hands in his pants pockets.
Noticing the tense atmosphere, Michael cleared his throat a little nervously and faced the patient once more.
"Hey, Whitaker. Patient with a concussion and probably a drug user. Want to help Dr. Santos with this?" Michael leaned over to rest his large hand on his student's shoulder.
"I don't need help." Trinity rolled her eyes.
"Yep, you're definitely in it, big man." Robby gave Trinity that look that said, "This is your punishment for your lack of humility."
Still with his hand resting near Dennis's neck, Robby guided the young man to stand beside the patient's head. Dennis stared at the unconscious man for a moment, before his eyes flicked up to the man on the other side of the gurney, who was already glancing at him furtively.
"Dr. Santos, why are there scalpels on the prep table?" Dennis heard Michael's voice trail off near his ear, but he was still preoccupied with facing the veteran who seemed to want to hide inside his own skin, so uncomfortable under his gaze.
"The patient has a small, round lump on his leg. I just wanted to check if it's superficial or something we should be alarmed about," Trinity explained.
"Can I see?" Dennis turned to the girl, who shrugged.
"Sure, huckleberry. Here." She lifted the sheet covering the patient's torso.
Michael pulled his hands away from Dennis so the student could lean over and examine the situation.
"Any thoughts?"
"Could be a blood clot," Dennis murmured.
"Or a foreign body," Santos pointed.
"Well, you'll have to figure that one out. I'll go ahead and ask Dr. McKay or Dr. Collins to accompany you." Robby said, already walking out of the bed. The doctor was about to rattle off something else when a scream made him and his two students jump.
"Holy shit!"
And the next thing they knew, Dr. Abbot was on top of the patient who had silently woken up, curiously holding a scalpel in his hand. Dennis, realizing he was dangerously close to the patient, the scalpels on the Mayo table, and the entire situation, jumped back.
Before the other three present could do anything, Abbot had a firm hand twisting the patient's wrist, causing enough pain to make him drop the scalpel and send it ricocheting across the floor. Suddenly, Robby and the other two were on top of the patient once more, and the chaos that had just subsided was restored. Within seconds, nurses and doctors were yelling at each other until the patient was once again unconscious.
"Looks like we have another Kraken here," Trinity said as she felt the patient's legs grow heavy.
"Double this son of a bitch's dose. Triple it if necessary," Abbot roared angrily.
"Jack," Robby said in a scolding tone.
The veteran turned to the student in front of him, and with his brows drawn together in irritation, muttered under his breath.
“Apparently, Ahmad isn’t faster than me. I'm not fucking leaving."
Whitaker clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.
"That's it, guys, patient out cold."
Whitaker released the patient's numb limbs from the gurney and turned his back on his boyfriend, marching through the hospital with stiff steps.
The student hadn't even reached the hospital exit when he heard his name shouted down the halls.
"Dennis! Dennis! Wait!" The blond continued marching outside. He yanked open the glass door that led to the street, but didn't hear it close.
"Dennis! Dennis Whitaker!" A large, calloused hand gripped his bicep and turned him so he was facing green irises.
"What do you want?" The shorter one practically barked.
"Are you angry? I should be angry! That man almost stabbed you!"
"You don't know that! He could have done that to anyone!"
"I do know that! I'm the one who stopped him from stabbing to you!" He was going to open a nasty gash right in your liver! Do you know how difficult a liver transplant is, Dennis?
"Of course I know! I'm a doctor too, you know?" The young man shook off the other man's light grip and continued walking to a nearby wall. The student sank to the ground, his back against the red bricks, his head buried in his hands.
The young man stood there for a moment, trying to calm his breathing, heavy with adrenaline. He thought he would be alone again, when he felt a warm presence sit beside him.
"I don't understand, are you mad at me?" Jack looked genuinely confused.
Whitaker said nothing, his hands still hiding his face. And so they remained for a moment. Both silent as they lost themselves in their own confusion.
Things outside were very different, and Jack only noticed when he had the luxury of five minutes to breathe, or when he ventured onto the edge of the hospital roof. But he hadn't done that in a long time. Ever since he met Dennis, he hadn't felt like seeing the city from that angle, or at least not beyond the security fence. However, Jack couldn't remember ever having the chance to see what the hospital looked like from the outside during the day; perhaps this was the first time.
Now Jack understood why Robby called the hospital a hole. I mean, he'd understood it before, but now it made much more sense. Robby and the others were trapped all day inside that building, which had an entrance slightly below street level and seemed perpetually shrouded in a cloud that never let the sun's rays reach the emergency room windows. It was a naturally dark place; everyone who entered had to get used to the difference in lighting between the outside and the inside, and Jack didn't think it was due to poor design. Now, standing outside, Jack could appreciate the beautiful landscape surrounding his workplace. The veteran hadn't remembered there being so many trees in that area, nor that the neighborhood was so clean; he supposed nighttime hides that kind of beauty.
The man leaned the back of his neck lazily against the brick wall and stared up at the clear sky. Without much thought, Jack reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the dog tag hidden beneath his uniform. He'd had a habit of fiddling with that tiny tag between his fingers ever since he first went to war, and he'd never been able to stop.
The man closed his eyes as he listened to the birdsong that seemed very far away. If he had to guess, he'd say they were all hiding in the back block so they wouldn't be too close to the hospital. But unlike them, the trees hadn't abandoned them yet; they swayed gently in the breeze and shaded the emergency room sidewalk, with no pretense that they were all beyond help.
If Jack worked during the day and knew he was deprived of this sense of peace that lived right outside, he'd also call that place a hole.
Lost in the sense of peace with the stimuli around him, Jack was slightly startled when a soft hand landed on his forearm. He opened his eyes urgently and turned his head too quickly to the boy beside him.
"Jackie, babe…" Dennis whispered softly, making Abbot immediately lean toward him like a magnet.
Dennis brought his free hand to the older man's cheek and brushed his thumb over the dark circles under his eyes. Whitaker still had a tired look, but his expression was much softer than it had been a few minutes ago.
"I need you to go home," The boy whispered.
"Denny, baby…" Jack closed his eyes.
"Jack, you're exhausted, I can feel your exhaustion from here," he whispered against the older man's lips. Damn if anyone walked by and saw them, they weren't hiding it anyway.
"I can't, I can't just leave and leave you there." Jack swallowed hard. "Did you see what almost happened? You saw—"
"I saw, my love, I was there. But you can't stand guard all day, not even a strong man like you can."
Jack sneered.
"Oh, Dennis, I've been through worse when I was in the war. Thirty-six hours of work is nothing to me."
Dennis touched their foreheads.
"Jackie." The man opened his eyes. "You're not at war anymore, you don't have to fight anymore. You don't have to be on your guard all the time anymore, you're safe now." Dennis's voice was barely audible.
"Of course I do. If I didn't have to be on my guard anymore, we'd be scheduling a transplant for you right now."
Whitaker laughed humorlessly.
"Thank you for saving me." Dennis rubbed their noses. "But if you really love me, you have to let me take the risk."
Jack raised his eyebrow in question.
"Jack, when I chose to go into medicine, I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I didn't want it to be. I still don't want it to be. My love, we're all in danger here. Our nurses are constantly assaulted on their shifts, but you don't see them with their husbands glued to their legs during their shifts."
Jack smiled, letting his shoulders slump.
"Jack, please, out of respect for me as a professional, I need you to go home. Otherwise, I'll think you think I'm an incompetent doctor and a dysfunctional adult."
"No, never." Abbot's brows knitted together.
"Then let me work."
Jack stared into those wide, needy eyes and felt his heart ache. He hoped it was a heart attack.
"What if it happens again?"
"It won't. But if it does, I'll be smarter. And if it happens again, I'll be doubly smarter. That's how I gain experience, isn't it, old man?"
A laugh rumbled through Abbot's chest; the man couldn't hide the wide, proud smile he desperately wanted to show.
"I suppose so," Jack whispered one last time before leaning in to press their lips together.
It was just a kiss. Dennis was still too repressed to do anything much more out in the open. But that simple kiss was enough to say so much.
I'm sorry.
I forgive you.
And…
"I love you," Jack whispered when they parted.
"No more than I love you."
Dennis kissed his cheek once more before standing up.
"Go home and rest. When I return, I'll be all yours to protect from whoever you want."
Jack rolled his eyes and smiled again. The man made to stand up when he saw the other man raise his eyebrows.
"Where are you going?"
"To get my things to leave."
"No, you're not."
Jack was already halfway up when he turned around with a confused expression on his face.
"You're not coming into this hospital again today. Stay here while I get your things from the locker."
Whitaker turned and started walking back to the hospital.
"You don't even know my password!"
"That’s what you think!" Whitaker shouted from a distance. "Ahmed, don't let that man into the hospital again until dawn tomorrow."
Jack saw Ahmed nod obediently.
"Where were you when we needed you?" Abbot's eyes nearly bugged out in indignation.
Ahmed just shrugged.
Jack huffed angrily. This was going to be a long break.
[...]
It was around nine o'clock in the evening when Jack heard the front door open. He'd gotten used to Dennis having his own key—heck, he'd been the one responsible for it—but he still couldn't shake the tension he felt when his survivor side was the first to notice someone else trying to break into his house.
The man was watching his usual Discovery Channel documentary. He rarely got to watch the best shows because all the good ones aired late at night, so he always set it to record before leaving the house. Dennis constantly teased him about still having a tape recorder, but Jack knew the boy also hated missing a show and secretly watched the documentaries every night while Jack wasn't home. If he questioned him about it, Whitaker would fiercely defend himself, saying he didn't watch them, just sat on the couch making sure the tape recorder was recording the shows correctly.
Abbot hadn't slept all day, worried as hell about his sweetie surrounded by people with such ill intentions. He knew he was wrong for this; Whitaker was an adult and knew what he was doing, but Jack couldn't help it. He felt a little bad about the situation when he got home, a little intrusive toward his boyfriend; he would definitely bring this up with his therapist at his next appointment.
The sound of keys being thrown into the ceramic bowl echoed throughout the room. Jack turned his face toward the dying man who was crawling like a zombie toward him.
"Good night, flower of the day," Jack said cheerfully, receiving only a tired grunt in response.
Whitaker threw his backpack on the floor and plopped himself down on the older man's body. Instinctively, Jack opened his arms to make room for his boyfriend to settle in, and when the boy seemed comfortable enough, Abbot wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his soft hair.
"Everything okay?" Abbot whispered against the blond curls.
It was a rhetorical question; Jack knew nothing was okay after a twelve-hour shift, but with years of therapy, Jack knew these silly questions were important to ask constantly.
Dennis murmured inaudibly against his boyfriend's chest, who laughed affectionately in response.
"I can't hear you, baby. Do you want to go to bed?"
Dennis pulled his mouth halfway away from Jack's cotton shirt and mumbled something Abbot thought was "very tired."
Jack laughed again and continued to stroke the boy's curls while watching the documentary about the most dangerous spiders in the Americas that was still playing on TV.
Even with a nearly asleep Whitaker in his arms, Jack felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that their skin was touching.
Jack's fertile, depressive imagination had been racing through his head all day, all the possible ways those delinquents could stab, strangle, or otherwise assault Dennis, and Jack wouldn't be there to do anything. And if he received a call from Robby or Dana, it would be because the situation was already too serious.
Abbot knew these thoughts weren't healthy for him or their relationship. He knew it was a toxic trait that was developing, or that it hadn't left him since he left the battlefields without a leg. But he would work it out, he would take this to his therapist, and he would be a better boyfriend.
But until that happened, he would revel in the comfort and relief of having his love back in his arms, safe from any outside danger. Jack could feel Whitaker's breathing slowly calming against their pressed chests, or the boy's breath brushing against his neck. He could feel his own eyes growing heavy, knew that if he didn't do something about it, his back would ache as if he'd been run over, but his prosthetic was too far away to reach and carry them to the bedroom, and he was too tired to do anything but place two fingers on Whitaker's wrist and feel his heartbeat at the correct rate.
Dennis was back home, and he was in his arms once more. If every day was like this until the end of his days, Jack Abbot's life would have been worth living.