Chapter Text
Dennis Whitaker had always loved the outdoors. Maybe it was being raised on a farm, but fresh air healed his soul in a way nothing else did. So after a particularly stressful day at work he left the Pitt deciding to reward himself by using a motorized Lime bike to take him home – or rather Trinity’s home.
A group of them were always sitting on the same corner in their parking zone within a block of the hospital. Activating a bike he took off towards the apartment. With the wind running through his air, he breathed in deeply, relishing in the cool air that filled his lungs. He almost wished the ride home was longer than it was so he could experience the freedom the bike provided just a bit longer. His thoughts flashed to Robby on his motorcycle, understanding now why he loved that damn thing so much. He imagines the feeling of freedom was far more exhilarating on a motorcycle that could go much faster than the 15mph this bike topped out at. Not for the first time, Dennis found himself wondering what it felt like to ride on the back of it, arms wrapped around Robby’s waist. He immediately shoved the thought aside. Clearly he’d been at work too long.
Dennis saw the car coming out of the corner of his eye and he knew it was too late to do anything to get out of its way. One moment he was resigning himself to his fate, the next he was on the concrete, leg pinned under the bike, facing the opposite direction than he had just been. He slid his leg from under the bike and jumped to his feet, adrenaline kicking in. The driver of the car rolled down his window with the look of utter shock on his face, “Are you okay?”
Dennis, standing on two feet, looked at the front bumper of the car, now halfway hanging off, and back to the driver.
“I’m fine,” he paused, looking at the bumper again, “but your car isn’t.” Dennis had always been a bit of a smartass but he didn’t have time to apologize. He knew the adrenaline would only last so long and he needed to utilize it before pain inevitably set in. His knee already ached and he knew it was about to be a lot worse with the adrenaline gone. He should have stopped, gotten the drivers insurance, or something, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. He had just been hit by a car afterall.
He was so close to home, only 2 blocks away. He swung one leg over the bike and took a seat, propping his injured one on the pedal. Squeezing the handle he took off towards home. All he had to do was make it home and then he could fix himself up there. A hospital bill was the last thing he could afford.
Dennis sighed with relief having made it back, but that relief was quickly gone as he stared at the stair he had to climb to reach Trinity’s apartment. With a huff of determination he started to climb, but only 3 steps up the 5 floor trek he quickly realized there was no way he was going to make it as the adrenaline was already wearing off.
With his knee screaming in pain he hobbled back down the steps and back to the bike, which he still couldn’t believe was working after the impact it received. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he had to go back to the Pitt. Activating the bike once more, he propped his injured leg on the pedal again and took off towards PTMC.
Arriving back at the hospital he didn’t bother to park the bike in its proper zone, instead leaving it by the entrance, groaning at the fact that Robby’s motorcycle was still there, which meant Robby was too. The sight of it made something annoying twist low in his stomach. Pain, probably. Embarrassment, definitely. Something else he refused to name. At this point each step was agony, and he tried to put as little weight on his left leg as he could, with little success.
Dana saw him first. “Jesus Christ kid what happened to you?!” In an instant she was at Dennis’s side, put a supporting arm around him.
Dennis sighed, “I’m fine really, just got hit by a car riding a bike home.”
“You don’t look fine kid.” Dennis hadn’t really taken the time to assess himself yet and had no idea what he looked like until Dana said that and he looked down at himself. Blood was dripping down his arm. Not a trickle. Not a scrape. Dripping. It was running steadily from somewhere near his elbow, dripping off his fingertips onto the tile floor below. He stared at it for a second longer than he probably should have, like his brain needed time to catch up to what his eyes were telling him, before letting out a quiet breath.
“Huh,” he muttered, staring at it like it belonged to someone else, “that’s probably not ideal.” He must’ve hit the pavement harder than he thought. Much harder. Only then did he really start taking inventory of the rest of himself, his attention shifting downward as the pounding in his knee made itself harder to ignore now that the adrenaline was steadily draining away. His scrub pants were torn open at the knee, fabric darkened where blood had soaked through, and every pulse of his heartbeat sent another wave of deep, grinding pain through the joint that felt wrong in a way he didn’t like at all. Not sharp like a simple bruise or scrape, but heavy and unstable.
Great. Just great.
Dana followed his gaze and swore under her breath. “Yeah, no. You are absolutely not fine.”
Dennis shrugged weakly, though even that small movement sent a sharp pull through his arm that made him regret it instantly. “I mean… I’m standing,” he offered, like that somehow proved a point.
“Barely.” Dana shot back without missing a beat.
She grabbed his wrist before he could even think about pulling away, angling it under the harsh overhead lights so she could get a better look. His scrub sleeve was torn open at the elbow, fabric stiff and dark with blood. The scrape was deeper and uglier than he’d realized when adrenaline had still been doing its job.There was gravel stuck to his skin, and when he shifted his weight, his knee buckled hard enough that he grabbed Dana’s shoulder to keep from face-planting.
That got her moving faster.
“Sit. Now.” She shoved a chair behind him with her foot and forced him down before he could argue. “What the hell happened?” she asked again her tone suggested she already had a pretty good idea it wasn’t anything minor.
Dana stayed in front of him, still holding his arm steady while her eyes scanned over the rest of him, clearly piecing together what she could already see with what she suspected he hadn’t admitted yet.
“Car,” he said simply, leaning back slightly as he tried to shift his injured leg into a position that didn’t feel like his knee was about to explode.
She blinked at him slowly, like she was giving him a chance to correct himself. “You got hit by a car.” Dennis sighed, because hearing it said out loud made it sound significantly worse than it had felt in the moment.
“Lime bike versus bumper. Bumper lost.” Even now, some smartass part of his brain thought that was funny as he pictured the bumper hanging from the car.
Dana did not laugh.
“Of course you got hit by a car,” she muttered. “Because why not add that to the day?”
Dennis leaned back in the chair, suddenly aware of how loud the world around him had gotten. The fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright. His hands felt shaky now that the adrenaline had finally bailed on him. Before he could come up with another witty response, he heard the sound of fast-moving footsteps crossing the floor behind him. Heavy. Fast. Heavy enough to carry urgency but controlled enough to mean whoever it was hadn’t broken into a full run yet. He didn’t even need to turn his head to know who it was.
“Whitaker.” Robby’s voice. Low. Sharp. Dangerous. The single word landed with enough weight to make Dennis close his eyes briefly before looking up.
Robby stood a few feet away, helmet still clutched in one hand, his expression locked somewhere between confusion and alarm as his eyes moved quickly over Dennis’s body, taking in the blood, the torn fabric, the way he was sitting too stiff to be comfortable and favoring one side more than he probably realized. Even half out the door and clearly exhausted, he looked unfairly good, as always. All sharp edges and leather and irritation, and Dennis hated that his brain had the time to notice.
Dennis closed his eyes for half a second. Of course, just his luck. He had been hoping to avoid Robby seeing him – having to deal with this – but he now realizes how futile that hope was. Obviously an attending would have to see him.
When he opened them, Robby was already striding toward them, helmet still in his hand, jaw tight enough it looked like it might crack. Dennis immediately felt bad recognizing that Robby was clearly on his way out until now.
“What happened?” Robby asked, his voice low but tight, like he was holding back about ten other reactions at once.
Dennis lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug that didn’t quite sell the nonchalance he was going for. “Minor transportation disagreement,” he replied.
Robby stopped dead in front of him, eyes scanning fast – arm, knee, blood, torn scrubs, the way Dennis was holding himself too stiff. The full force of Robby’s attention landing on him made Dennis feel strangely pinned in place, and not just because he could barely move.
Dana didn’t give him the chance to keep minimizing it. “He got hit by a car riding one of those Lime bikes,” she said bluntly, never taking her eyes off Dennis, still assessing possible injuries.
Robby’s gaze snapped back to Dennis immediately, his jaw tightening as his eyes tracked down to his knee, then back up to the blood still dripping from his arm.
“You got hit by a car,” Robby repeated slowly. Robby was clearly angry, and Dennis hated making Robby upset. Dennis thought Robby was angry with him, not realizing Robby was actually just upset seeing him hurt. The intensity of his gaze made heat crawl unhelpfully up the back of Dennis’s neck. He blamed the pain.
“You rode back here?” Robby asked, each word deliberate in a way that made Dennis hesitate before answering.
“…Yeah,” he admitted, knowing lying at this point would’ve been pointless.
Robby blinked once, like his brain had stalled for half a second trying to process what he’d just heard. “You got hit by a car,” he repeated once more, his voice tightening further, “and instead of calling an ambulance, you rode a bike.”
Dennis shifted in the chair. “Technically, the car got hit by me.”
Dana made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh she immediately regretted.
Robby did not laugh.
“Why,” Robby asked, voice tight, “did you ride back here instead of calling for help?”
Again, Dennis shifted slightly in his seat, immediately regretting it as the movement sent a sharp spike of pain through his knee that forced a quick breath through clenched teeth. “I was two blocks from home,” he muttered. “Figured I could make it.”
“Did you?” Robby asked.
Dennis didn’t answer, because the fact that he was sitting here instead of at Trinity’s apartment already said enough.
Robby dragged a hand down his face, frustration clear in the motion even before he spoke again. “Jesus Christ, Dennis.”
Dennis hesitated. “I didn’t want the bill,” Dennis admitted finally, quieter this time, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Because he couldn’t afford it.
Because he thought he could tough it out.
Because admitting he needed help felt worse than the pain ripping through his knee right now.
That shifted something in Robby’s expression. The anger didn’t disappear, but it changed shape, tightening into something heavier and harder to read, like frustration layered over concern he didn’t want to show too openly. The look sat strangely warm in Dennis’s chest, which was idiotic considering the circumstances.
Dana let out a slow breath. “We’ll deal with the bill later,” she said firmly. “Right now we deal with you.”
Dennis nodded faintly, though his focus was starting to slip around the edges as the pounding in his knee spread upward into his thigh, his head beginning to feel heavier and less steady than it had a minute ago. The noise around him seemed louder and farther away at the same time, like his brain was struggling to keep up with everything happening at once.
Trying to find a position that didn’t feel like his knee was on fire, Dennis tried to move his leg to a more comfortable angle, and that was when the pain hit hard enough to make his vision narrow suddenly. Pain that was white-hot and blinding. The kind that stole the breath straight out of his lungs.
“Shit – ” The word came out strained, his body pitching forward before he had the chance to catch himself.
Robby reacted instantly, stepping in close and catching him before he could slide off the chair entirely, one arm braced firmly across his back to keep him upright while Dennis struggled to regain control of his breathing. Robby’s grip was firm and warm through the thin fabric of his scrubs, solid enough that Dennis’s whole body reacted to it before his brain could catch up.
“I got you,” Robby muttered, lower now but steady – less angry.
Dennis hated how weak he suddenly felt, hated the way his leg refused to cooperate when he tried to move it again even just slightly. “I can walk,” he insisted. Though the words sounded less convincing even to his own ears.
Trying to prove he was capable of just that he moved to stand before either Robby or Dana could stop him. The moment he tried to put weight on his left leg, his knee buckled completely beneath him, pain shooting up his leg sharp enough to make his grip tighten instinctively on Robby’s arm.
Robby didn’t argue this time. He simply tightened his hold and kept him upright, his jaw set as he adjusted his stance to take more of Dennis’s weight. Before pushing Dennis back into the chair, not even bother pretending Dennis had a choice in the matter. Dennis really didn’t, unable to muster the strength and resist Robby forcing him back down. Robby’s hands lingered on his shoulders and Dennis almost let himself lean into the comforting touch. For one humiliating second he wanted to. Wanted to let Robby keep holding him there until the room stopped spinning. He shut that thought down immediately.
“Yeah,” he said dryly, though the tension in his voice gave him away. “Looks like it.”
Dennis let out a shaky breath, his head dipping forward slightly as the edges of his vision blurred again, the reality finally settling into place somewhere deep in the back of his mind. “Didn’t think it was that bad,” he said finally.
Robby stared at him like he could see straight through the lie. “Bullshit.”
This wasn’t a scrape he could clean up at home or tough out overnight. Clearly, Dennis had misjudged the extent of his injuries. Before he could respond, the room tilted slightly. Just enough to make his stomach drop. He blinked hard, trying to refocus, but the edges of his vision were starting to fuzz.
Dana noticed first.
“Hey,” she said sharply, grabbing his chin to keep his attention. “Stay with me, kid.”
“I am,” he muttered. Though his voice sounded farther away than it should.
Robby stepped closer, “Did you hit your head? Dana did he hit his head?” Dana shrugged, unsure.
“Jesus – ” The word came out strangled as his vision tunneled.
Dana swore under her breath. “Okay, that’s enough. We’re not doing this out here.”
Robby didn’t hesitate. One second Dennis was gripping the edge of the chair as if without it he would crumple to the floor, the next Robby had an arm around his back, hauling him upright despite the sharp protest that tore out of Dennis’s throat.
“Easy,” Robby muttered, quieter now.
Dennis hated the sound of that tone.
Too careful.
Too worried.
Too much like Robby was handling something fragile – or someone.
“I can walk,” Dennis insisted weakly, as if his knee hadn’t given out earlier just a moment ago. Dennis let out a shaky breath, head falling forward for half a second as another wave of dizziness hit.
Robby caught him before he hit the floor. “Kid I think you’ve already proven that is in fact not true.” He exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated with Dennis’s stubbornness.
Before he could protest further, Dennis was sitting in a bed. The paper beneath him crinkling loudly as his weight settled. The sudden change in position made his head spin again, forcing him to brace one hand against the mattress to steady himself while he focused on keeping his stomach where it belonged. Dennis decided he really hated that feeling.
The curious eyes of his coworkers grew by the second. Robby moved quickly, shutting the curtains around the bed with more force than was probably necessary, clearly trying to minimize the attention that had already been drawn towards the kid. The protective edge to it was impossible to miss. Something Dennis tried not to notice either.
“Sit still,” Dana ordered, already moving with practiced efficiency as she grabbed supplies from the nearby cart. Her tone had shifted from sharp concern to clinical focus. She had moved past worrying and straight into problem solving mode. “And don’t even think about standing again unless you want me to physically tackle you.”
Dennis huffed out a weak breath that might’ve been a laugh under better circumstances. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered. Though the way his fingers gripped the edge of the mattress betrayed how little control he felt over his own balance at the moment.
Robby stayed close, his attention fixed squarely on Dennis like he was waiting for him to do something else stupid. Dennis could practically feel the weight of that stare without having to look up, and honestly, he didn’t want to. He already knew exactly what kind of expression he’d see – tight jaw, narrowed eyes, frustration barely contained under the surface. And if he looked too long he might see the concern also on Robby’s face, and that, somehow, felt worse.
Dana gently but firmly took hold of his injured arm again, pulling it into the light so she could finally get a proper look at the damage. “Alright,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “let’s see what you’ve managed to do to yourself.”
The scrape along his arm looked worse under proper lighting, streaked with dirt and gravel that had been ground into the skin from the impact he made on the concrete road. Blood still oozed steadily from the deeper portions of the wound, slow but persistent, and the sight of it made his stomach churn in a way that had nothing to do with motion sickness. Dennis scolded himself over the reaction, he was a doctor for God’s sake, he’d seen far worse than this. Yet seeing an injury on his own body was…different.
“That looks worse than it felt earlier,” he admitted quietly.
“Yeah,” Dana replied dryly, reaching for gauze and saline. “Funny how that works when adrenaline stops doing you favors.”
The first splash of saline hit the wound, and Dennis sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as the sting hit full force. He hadn’t realized how numb the area had been until that moment, the sudden burst of sensation making his shoulders tense instinctively.
“Jesus,” he hissed, gripping the mattress tighter as Dana continued flushing debris from the scrape.
“Hold still,” she said firmly. “Unless you want gravel permanently embedded in your arm.”
He didn’t move again after that, focusing instead on breathing evenly while Dana worked. Each pulse of pain from his arm seemed to echo the deeper, heavier throbbing in his knee that refused to be ignored. Now that he was still, the instability in the joint felt even more obvious.
Robby must’ve noticed the way Dennis kept shifting slightly, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like his knee was about to explode.
“You hit that knee pretty hard?” Robby asked, his voice lower now but still tight around the edges.
Dennis let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Bike landed on it. Took most of the impact from the fall.”
Dana glanced up at that, her expression tightening slightly before returning her attention to his arm. “That’s going to need imaging,” she said without hesitation. “No question.”
Dennis let his head tip back slightly, staring up at the ceiling tiles. It all still felt like overkill to him. Imaging meant paperwork. Imaging meant cost. Imaging meant he wasn’t walking away from this with just a bandage and a lecture.
Of course it did.
“You didn’t answer,” Robby said after a moment, breaking through Dennis’s thoughts. “Did you hit your head?”
Dennis frowned slightly, trying to replay the moment in his mind, but the memory felt hazy around the edges, like someone had smudged the details just enough to make them unreliable. He remembered the car, the impact, the ground coming up fast – but everything blurred together into adrenaline and instinct.
“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, though the uncertainty in his own voice made him wince.
Robby didn’t look convinced. Neither did Dana.
“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Dana finished the first round of cleaning before pressing fresh gauze against the wound to control the bleeding. “You almost went down twice out there, and you’re still acting like the floor’s moving.”
Dennis shifted slightly, testing his balance again, only to feel another faint wave of dizziness roll through him. Not enough to knock him over, but enough to make him very aware of how fragile his footing currently was.
“Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. “Little lightheaded.”
“Little,” Robby repeated skeptically, raising his brow.
Dennis shot him a tired look. “You want me to say ‘a lot’ so you feel better about being right?”
Robby didn’t take the bait, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly before his expression settled back into something serious. “I want you to stop pretending you’re fine when you clearly aren’t.”
That landed harder than Dennis expected. He didn’t respond right away, mostly because he didn’t have a good comeback for that one. And because the way Robby said it, low and direct and looking right at him, did something irritating to Dennis’s pulse.
Dana secured the temporary dressing around his arm before finally stepping back enough to reassess him as a whole, her gaze lingering on his knee now. “Alright,” she said, her tone firm and decisive. “We’re getting you into imaging before that knee swells any worse. I don’t like the way you’re holding it, and the dizziness is making me nervous.”
Robby didn’t wait for Dana to move on to the next task before stepping closer, his attention shifting from Dennis’s knee to his head with a focus that made Dennis immediately uneasy. There was something about Robby’s rigid expression that made it clear he wasn’t satisfied with Dennis’s half assed answer from earlier.
“Hold still,” Robby said, his tone leaving little room for argument as he reached up, fingers moving carefully into Dennis’s hair.
Dennis frowned slightly, more confused than anything. “What are you – ”
“Checking your head,” Robby cut him off, his voice low and clipped, already parting sections of hair with deliberate care. “You got hit by a car. Humor me.”
Dennis huffed softly but didn’t fight him, mostly because the dizziness still hadn’t completely settled, a clear indication of head trauma, and the idea of moving too quickly sounded like a terrible plan. He tried to sit still while Robby worked, though the close proximity made him uncomfortably aware of just how serious Robby suddenly looked. Did he always look this way during cases? Robby was close enough that Dennis could feel the faint warmth of him, could smell the mix of leather. And for one brief absurd second Dennis wondered if he was imagining how close Robby actually was. With these kinds of thoughts, he decided he must have a head injury.
For a few seconds there was nothing but silence, broken only by the faint crinkle of the paper beneath Dennis and the sounds of the ER moving around them beyond the curtain. Robby’s fingers moved slowly across his scalp, methodical and careful, pressing gently in places that unfortunately made Dennis wince. Each pass of his fingers through Dennis’s hair was deliberate, steady, and far more careful than Dennis expected from someone who had looked ready to throttle him five minutes ago. None of which lessened his already scattered focus.
There was something unfair about how gentle he was being. Dennis had no business noticing that either
“Did you black out at all?” Robby asked without looking at him, still running his finger through his hair, parting it to get a better look.
Dennis squinted slightly, trying to replay the memory again, but it still felt like someone had cut pieces out of it. “Don’t think so,” he admitted. “Everything just happened fast.”
Robby didn’t respond right away, his fingers pausing near the back of Dennis’s head as his brow furrowed slightly. Then he pressed again, just a little firmer.
“Jesus – “ Dennis sucked in a sharp breath, his hand instinctively gripping the edge of the mattress, “yeah, that spot…that spot hurt.”
Robby didn’t move his hand away this time. Instead, he leaned slightly to the side, angling his view under the harsh overhead light, his jaw tightening almost immediately. The movement brought him even closer, one hand steady at the back of Dennis’s head while the other kept his hair parted. And Dennis suddenly became very aware, far too aware, of just how easily Robby controlled the space between them. Robby held him still with almost no effort at all. The thought hit low and hot and deeply, deeply inappropriate. Dennis shoved that thought aside with the rest. Definitely the concussion talking. Had to be.
“Well,” he muttered, the word sounding far from reassuring.
Dana looked up from where she’d been preparing supplies. “What?”
Robby shifted his fingers just enough to expose the area, his voice flat in that way that usually meant something wasn’t good. “He’s got a laceration back here. Small, but it’s definitely open.”
Dennis frowned, confusion mixing with a slow building sense of dread. “You’re kidding.” Instinct made him reach up to feel it himself but Robby quickly caught his wrist, stopping him with a gentle squeeze. The contact lingered for a beat too long, just long enough to register – firm, steady, grounding – and Dennis felt an odd, unwelcome flicker of awareness that had absolutely nothing to do with pain. He immediately decided that was a terrible thought and buried it under several layers of denial, hating that his thoughts had nothing to do with the injury.
Dana leaned in closer to take a look for herself while Robby kept the hair parted. “Nope,” she confirmed after a second. “You definitely smacked your head.” She looked back at Robby, eyes filled with greater concern than before, “There’s dried blood matted in his hair too, which means it’s been bleeding longer than he realized.”
Dennis let out a slow breath, his stomach dropping slightly at the confirmation. That explained the dizziness. The foggy memory. The way the room still felt just slightly off every time he shifted too quickly.
“Fantastic,” he muttered dryly. “Really just hitting the highlights today.”
Robby exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers still steady against Dennis’s scalp as if he didn’t trust him not to move suddenly. “You didn’t even know this was here,” he said, not quite a question.
Dennis shook his head slightly before immediately regretting the motion as the world tilted again. “Nope,” he admitted. “Guess I missed that part.”
Dana straightened slightly, already shifting gears mentally toward the next step. “Alright,” she said firmly. “That changes things. He’s getting a head CT along with knee imaging. No discussion.”
Dennis let his head tip forward slightly, the weight of that statement settling heavily in his chest. A knee injury was bad enough, but head injuries came with an entirely different level of concern, one he didn’t particularly want to think about. Dennis let out a slow breath, resignation settling in. Whether he liked it or not, fighting this any further wasn’t going to get him out of the situation, and deep down he knew it.
“Don’t pass out,” Robby said.
Dennis tried to smirk. “Not planning to.”
Robby’s hand lingered for another second before he finally pulled it away, though he stayed close, his expression still tight with concern that he wasn’t bothering to hide anymore. Dennis felt the absence of that steady contact more than he expected – more than he wanted to admit – which irritated him enough to immediately blame the dizziness once again rather than examine the thought too closely, which was its own kind of problem.
“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “You really screwed this one up, kid.” Robby exhaled quietly beside him, some of the tension in his shoulders easing now that Dennis had stopped arguing – at least for the moment.
Dennis stared down at his knee again, watching the way the swelling had already started to form beneath the torn fabric of his scrubs, and couldn’t help the thought that crept in uninvited.
Robby was still close enough to touch.