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In many cases, Dennis concluded that he was lonely. And loneliness wasn’t good for him. It's good for no one, and when he's particularly 'lonely,' he starts being more irritated. All those years he spent on the farm, all those times he spent studying alone in some catty coffee shop, or those tired nights spent in the abandoned halls, he could say it was getting to a point where he couldn't handle it anymore. Sure, now he has Trinity, but that's not what he's talking about. She's nice. But he wants some sort of companionship that requires him getting his rocks off. In sexual intercourse, of course. He prefers guys, but women could do, either way, he's lonely. And if he's being really honest, his boss is on the top of his list. But that's just a stupid dream.
Trinity did start noticing. She has unfortunately remembered her roommate's not-so-fun habits (for better or for worse), that’s what happens when you pick up a homeless guy off the abandoned rooms of the hospital where they both work. In other words, she realized that Dennis needs to be laid. And that requires an embarrassing conversation of some sort, because why would you confront your roommate who's emotionally and physically lacking in that apartment? But, she needs to say something.
“I get that you're sad and desperate. And have nothing to do in your life. Please go do something about your problem outside of my home. I don’t want to hear you blasting your speakers at full volume at three a.m. just because you want to get laid.” Dennis blinks in surprise, opens his mouth, then closes it. Bewildered, he lifts his head up in confusion and then retorts, “What are we talking about? What made you think of that conclusion?” He stands blankly in their kitchen. Trinity, the ever annoyed, began to sigh, a deep and heavy sigh.
“Look. We have thin walls, and I like to watch my movies at unreasonable hours, and I would like to keep it that way. For the love of god Dennis, go out. Please. And you know what? Use dating apps, anything will do!”
“Oh my god, please stop talking.” Dennis digs his hands into his face in embarrassment. From Trinity's perspective, she can see the red reach to his ears. Dennis wasn’t happy. From what Whitaker knew, Santos probably heard his nightly music session on blast, though his day playlist is more vintage funk than punk rock, and a mix of some electro-pop littered around. Random? Yes. Embarrassing? He wishes he could die. And according to Trinity, she can very well tell what his problem is. Can other people tell? Oh, he doesn't want to know. “I have a problem.”
He walks closer to the couch, where Trinity is behind, and sits down. “Go and get laid. I'm actually serious Whitaker, Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it's someone at work.” Trinity said, grabbing her drink from the small coffee table and taking a sip. “What the hell does that mean?” Dennis grumbles. She smiles. “I have seen at least three people at our work checking you out.”
“Ew, I don't want to hear it.” He crosses his arms. But continue to listen anyways. “Who..?” Was he curious? Yes, but it's more in a sense of hopeful wishing than actually caring about the other two. “That’s for me, Perlah, and Princess’s ears only. And for you to find out.” She lays her head against the cushions. “You just like torturing me.” Dennis walks away from his roommate. “It's way more fun that way!” She yelled back.
Dennis later does hop into a dating app. But with no luck.
Unfortunately, things were getting in the way. He has built up confidence, he has built resilience, and most importantly, he has built an attitude. An attitude that he wasn’t proud of, but that just means he’s improving in some way or another. He makes fewer mistakes than before. He’s more likely to get a routine down and build relationships with his co-workers. But he’s still, deep down, that meek student willing to learn on how to guide.
Right now though, he grits his teeth, tenses his eyebrows, and sighs. Today wasn’t going great for him, especially since last night. Normally, he'd handle the med students in the early mornings till another senior resident would take over, but no one wants to right now, and now he's holding onto the two little ducklings until the night shift comes. They’re stuck-up, know-it-alls, and people who defy orders willingly, but that’s not what Whitaker is worried about, partially, in all senses, he likes their attitude towards how they work, they believe in what they do and how they do it—working towards their own goals. But that will only help them if they know what they’re doing. For now, it’s annoying. It grinds his gears.
He ducked his head down onto the table, sitting at the desk by a computer, almost completely finishing his charting of the day. “Dr. Whitaker.” A voice said above, and he looks up, seeing Ogilvie.
“Speak.” Dennis said immediately, settling back his head right down.
“The patient is asking for you. A blonde woman, she looks around in her late twenties. She said that she brought you some dinner.”
Dennis lifts his head. “Bring her here.” Dennis smiles.
“Oh, I got your dinner here. I'm sorry that I didn't make your lunch, I was busy.” She hugs Dennis, though awkwardly. “No, it's fine, honestly, I'm starting to forget to eat. It's always busy around here.”
“Um, how's little Abigail?” Dennis found himself saying.
“She’s finally sleeping after a full 3 hours, she’s resting with my mom right now. And again, thank you for lending me money for her clothes, diapers, and wipes.” She replied. “I have no problem lending you money, I’m finally making enough money to move out of Trinity's apartment.”
“Oh.” She said quietly.
“You could always move in with me and Abby for a while. I think Abby would love that.” She gently touches Dennis’s hand, her hands were warm from holding the plate. Dennis’s response was only a quick stutter before stumbling backwards into Ogilvie, who was intently watching the scene. “Ahh—uh, no, you don't have to, really. I'm sure it's also a long drive here.” Dennis smiles patiently, waiting for her to end this conversation.
“Well, thank you, Dr. Whitaker. I made chicken alfredo and garlic bread. Get some rest, okay? Bye.” She waves wearily, before placing the plate down, then leaving the ER.
“She's pretty.” Ogilvie said. Dennis backs away from him. “Yeah, but unfortunately, she's a widow. Off the radar for now.” He narrowed his eyebrows before realizing, “I—didnt mean it like that. Um, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom.” He says, then swiftly leaves, leaving Ogilvie alone.
He had been feeling on edge ever since he finished his shift. While the idea of going home should have put him at ease, he had a deep, gutting thought nudging inside his head. He keeps staring. Quick glances. Looks away as soon as Dennis notices. Is… Is this what Trinity was talking about? And how the hell did he miss that? When it was so obvious. He bites his lips, more worried than... whatever weird thought that he was thinking.
When he went outside, it was just cold enough to see your breath. Dennis was waiting for Trinity by the parking lot, standing near a light post. He ate her food, but it tasted somewhat bland. He's not saying that she didn’t cook the food that well. It’s more personal. He just felt like he had a weird realization about something he shouldn't have to worry about. He could do nothing. Or he could do something.
“We’re finally done. Gosh, I think I’m getting a headache.” She tenses her eyebrows to close her eyes.
“Does Ogilvie have a thing for me?”
Trinity stops and looks at him, stopping midway to her car.
“Do you have a thing for him?” She replies.
“I don’t know.” He said.
“I will just say, we only had him—what a couple of weeks? He’s an intriguing guy. From what I observed, he’s definitely eye-fucking you.”
He lays flat in his bed, Dennis reflects.
Dennis Whitaker doesn’t hate it. There are a few things he wishes Ogilvie would do, like actually listening to him. Or, him having an arrogant personality (that Dennis wishes he could get knocked down a peg, in some way or another) wasn’t helping. In its simplest conclusion, he is kinda underwhelming, but in a way that makes him…cute? He lacks empathy, and he’s gonna be a bitch in bed. But isn’t that the fun of it?
To solitarily put someone into their place, it’s thrilling. He’s actually never had the chance to be in charge—usually people he has been with were always telling him what to do. He doesn’t mind it, maybe because of how he looks, they think they can order him around. Which he does, of his own volition. But, just thinking about it, just crawls his skin in a weird itchy way, he would push him into the bed, sit on top of him, and make out like crazy. He wonders how he would taste, he has seen Ogilvie pop a peppermint in his mouth once and twice a shift.
He could perhaps make him take his cock out and make him jerk off as Dennis teases him about how much he wants this. Or maybe, humiliate him to the point where he starts crying. And when he’s about to cum, Dennis would make him hold it in till Dennis is finally satisfied.
“Is this what ovulation feels like?.” Dennis whispered, he inhaled the inside of his pillow, and then flips back right up to the ceiling. He was being a shameless pervert.
Dennis has made it two hours into his shift without even talking to Ogilvie, without being in his general vicinity. Mostly, he had stuck with Mel for the first 30 minutes, then with Landon, and finally now is sticking with Javadi. There are times when he can feel like he's being stared at across the room, observed like he's the dinner of a predator, like he's going to be pried apart with no hesitation. It was slowly building up in pressure, to simply overcome a pounding thump in his heart, and sweat slowly dripped. He blamed it on work.
“Have you realized that the new med student keeps looking over here?” Javadi says, as she looks around her surroundings.
“He’s getting on my nerves.” She continued, a distaste looking straight at her face. “He probably wants to talk to me.” Dennis sighs.
“Why, you ignoring him?” Javadi perks up. Dennis hums noncommittally, shifting his position because his legs were starting to hurt from walking around too much.
“He’s…becoming too close to my liking.” Dennis stiffly smiled.
“Dr. Whitaker.” He had been busy with an unconscious patient who came in. They were swiftly treated, and minor surgery was being scheduled. Dennis had time for himself after that stressful situation, but he’s guessing that he let his guard down and forgot the bigger threat. “Oh, Ogilvie. Anything you need?”
“I know I might seem like a total douchebag, and honestly I’m trying to work on it, but you haven’t even checked on me for over two hours.”
“Look, Ogilvie, you’re smart…okay? The reason why I haven’t checked up on you and Joy is because I think you guys are ready to be on your own now.” Dennis sweats, he places his hands inside his scrub’s pockets. And began to move, Ogilvie, of course, followed. “Are you really sure though? I would be more comfortable if you were right next to me.” He blankly continued.
“I’m pretty sure.” Dennis tweaks his head a bit to his right. He felt a hand on his shoulders, prompting him to stop in his tracks. The grip was tight, curdling to a point of sweat, and the slight smell of hand sanitizer clung to it. It felt immensely good, shuttering into a mixed pool of heat deep into his gut.
“You know what. You will have to do, for now.” He weakly gulps down spit.
He grabs the doctor-in-training scrubs, and pushes him into one of the janitor’s closets nearby. His first instinct was to kiss him, but he realized that he may be a bit taller than he expected. He would’ve had to kneel slightly to reach Dennis’s mouth.
“Down.” And Ogilvie does, to Whitaker surprise.
Ogilvie was immediately pinned down into the side, back pressed against the cool wall and the unhinged shelves that were about to fall off, wetly mouthing at his jaw like his fate depended on it, slowly but surely reaching towards his lips. In all this considered, Ogilvie had a smell of expensive cologne, nothing like Robby had, no, this had more an earthy dirt tone than Robby's usual deep-woody smell. It pleased him.
Dennis lapped his tongue into Ogilvie’s parted lips, he approved by meeting it with his own. Teeth clacking, Ogilvie slides his tongue across Dennis's teeth, as if he were to taste him, greedy and trying to get as much as he could. Though Dennis didn’t seem to mind. He quickly found himself on top, sitting on his lap, now tugging on the bushy blonde curls, depriving himself of involuntary breathing. Breathlessly he moved away from the taste of mints. “Easy now.”
He swore he heard a small deep whine below him, like he was mad that he wasn’t fucking his mouth senseless. Dennis smiles, and he tilts his head back down to give a quick, chaste kiss onto his forehead. “We can’t really do anything here.” Dennis looks around. “But we could rub one out together?” He compromises.
He pulls his pants off slightly, up till his boxers are showing, until the twitchy cock rubs against the other’s cock, pressing harshly against the cloth. Dennis's legs were now wrapping around Ogilvie's hips, as Ogilvie hoisted Dennis to a small table.
“You look even better up close,” Ogilvie mumbles. “You’re so soft to the touch, and you look so pretty that it took everything that I had to just keep my hands to myself.” Words were nearly silent, barely passing his lips. Dennis was feeling so light-headed that he couldn’t even comprehend it. Then he heard Dennis beginning to hiss in pleasure—he could feel the bristle kisses of his clavicle, tickling with touch, sensation fluttering.
“Take…take it—ugh, take it off.” Dennis pushes the band of Ogilvie's boxers down, then strips himself from said restraint.
Ogilvie had length, not nearly as girthy as Dennis hoped, but he can work with it. Ogilvie waited. He felt the cold hospital air finally breathing towards his cock, precum slowly oozing just slightly. But he didn’t feel the soft, delicate hands of his resident, and so he looked up. “What?” He cocked a frown. Dennis finally lightly rims the bud, softly as he could.
“It’s cute?” He breathes out.
“You’re one to talk, Dr. Whitaker.”
Ogilvie hands were big enough to grip both he and Dennis’s cock—just right enough that hitched his breath. “Fuh—fuck, James.” He strains his head back. Dennis could feel the grip, getting tighter at his name. “Call me that again?” Ogilvie weirdly smiled, bucking his hips into his hands.
Dennis looked into Ogilvie's eyes for a moment, tensions were seething. Dennis’s horny ass just wanted to cum and move on from his day, away from Ogilvie. But Ogilvie, like a dog in heat, eyes big and wide, panting, just wanted Dennis to say his name. He rolled his eyes and brought himself to kiss Ogilvie again. He quickly leans on him, melting into it. “If you are a good boy about it.” Ogilvie can feel the words leave out his lips as they both part. James’s heart was racing a million miles a minute, and he knew Dennis could feel it also, which would also mean that he knew Dennis knew that he liked being called that.
James began to pout, tears were about to flow, and his hands kept going up and down as fast as he could. “I—please… Dennis, I swear I will listen to you, I do whatever you say, with no hesitation.” He cried. “It’s Dr. Whitaker.” Dennis retorts, though he was mumbling.
Dennis was getting lost, his vision was slowly starting to whiten, his panting got heavier, and James’s hands were shaking. It was enthralling, he hadn’t felt this good in so long, not since the times he would go to bars, but this was even better than that. Because, during those times, he didn't have this much control, he wasn’t a brat, no, he would just do what he was asked, but now, this time, feels entirely different.
They kept at it until he felt the larger man start to sob and starting to groan, and the noise of frantic breathing and the wet noises echoed inside the closet. It was intoxicating, he was invading him in a place that he couldn’t quite fit, stealing nothing but kisses on the corners of his mouth. Dennis realized he could taste his tears. Then he realized he was close. “Good boy, James, I—I am about to…”
“Yeah, yeah, me too.”
This was ridiculous, stupid, and so fucking good. Jerking off alone wasn’t the same as this. No, here he was fucking into his hands involuntarily, whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Shit, oh god.
He was trying to catch his breath. Dennis was the first one that came, James stroking every last drip and using it as lube on his dick. “Oh, that… that was fun.” He exhaled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—fuck…!” He muses a moan till he splatters his cum on his scrubs, ‘That's going to take forever to take off.’ Dennis thought. He leans his head back, still in his hazy, light-headed state, one that was the euphoric aftermath of sex. “Let's just stay here for a minute.” He leans forward into his shoulders, closing his eyes. He could hear his heart beating back into a somewhat normal rhythm, and he could hear the shallow breaths of his lungs. It was surprisingly comfortable, like he and James were two pieces of a puzzle, locking in just right, where they were meant to be. Luckily, the E.R. rooms were cold, and the breezes swept underneath the cracks of the door. Dennis sits back up. “You’re crazy for letting me do that.”
“I wanted this. Don’t blame yourself.” James responded.
“Just go clean up and get new scrubs, these are dirty.” Dennis replied, rubbing spit off his blemished mouth.