Archive of Our Own

Robby did, eventually, go on his sabbatical. He left on the 25th of July, nearly a month late, but he did, in fact, leave. 

Everyone said their good-bye’s, and Dennis sent Robby a text via the work messaging app.

Whitaker, Dennis - 21:52

Please stay safe. Text me regularly so I know you’re alive?

Robinavitch, Michael - 22:22

I will. Here’s my number, we can talk easier that way.

Dennis received nightly texts from Robby. They didn’t talk much beyond that, aside from Robby telling Dennis his house code, and Dennis confirming when he was in and out to check on it.

Dr Robby  - 6:04 pm

Alive. Chesterton, Indiana.

Dennis - 6:12 pm

See anything cool today?

Dr Robby - 6:29 pm

Pet a cat at a gas station

Dennis - 6:31 pm

Awww so cute

Dennis continued on day shift for the first  week after Robby left. Time passed, he got texts each night, and things were fine. Really, they were.

Dennis got four days off, which was rare for him. He did, however, receive his schedule the second day of his break, and discovered that he’d been changed to night shift for the entirety of August.

He’d opened the email while sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cinnamon oatmeal for dinner because despite being paid now as a resident, he was still pinching pennies pretty hard. His eyes shot open as he read over the schedule, him and Trinity now perfect opposites.

“No fucking way,” he said to himself, and stood from the island, hurrying over to Trinity’s room. He rapped on the door, and when Trinity made a noise from inside, he pushed to enter.

“What’s up?” She asked, laid under her covers with only a sports bra on, and Dennis could assume she was lazing in underwear, as well, considering how she was half naked most of the time around the apartment. Dennis flopped down on her bed, and handed his phone over. She scanned the email, and a frown broke across her face.

“Well that fucking sucks,” she huffed, and scrolled further, seeing that Dennis had, in fact, been scheduled for night shift the entire month. “Jeez, thats– that’s fucked up.”

“I know,” Dennis looked up to the popcorn ceiling, and sighed. “I’m gonna have to take the bus, and I hate the bus. I really hate it.”

“I guess you don’t have that much of a choice,” Trinity lightly tossed Dennis’ phone back to him, and it plopped on her comforter, next to his head. “Could you maybe contest it with admin? They could switch you back, maybe.”

“No, they probably wouldn’t,” Dennis rolled over onto his stomach, and grabbed his phone, opening his email again to look at the schedule again. 

“Why not?” Trinity asked, a little indignant.

“I mean, if I technically have reliable transportation, then they won’t switch me over. The bus counts.” Dennis glanced over to Trinity, and his eyebrows furrowed. “When I did my rotation in the ICU, one of my coworkers, a guy named Kozak asked to get switched to day shift ‘cause his car broke down and he lived far away from any of the bus stops. By the time he actually got to talk to admin formally, his car was fixed.”

Trinity raised an eyebrow. “And how long did that take?”

“Three months,” Dennis deadpanned. “Anywho, I just don’t think it’s worth it. I’ll just deal with the bus.”

Trinity frowned, “well, shit. This definitely sucks.”

“We’re gonna be practically on different planets,” Dennis groaned, and flopped fully down onto the bed, his face mushed in the comforter. “We’ll move around the apartment like ghosts, always in passing, never exchanging a word.”

Trinity snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic, Huckleberry. Maybe when we work shifts that back into each other, we can take turns with my car. Make it fair.”

Dennis shook his head. “No, I’m not on the insurance. We’d both get in trouble if I was pulled over driving it.”

Trinity tried to object, but Dennis sat up suddenly, a rock of awful dread dropping into his stomach.

“Oh my god, Trinity,” he looked at her, eyes wide and panicked. She looked at him, concerned, a little scared.

“Yeah? What the fuck, what’s wrong?”

“I only have two days to reorient my sleep schedule,” Dennis gasped, “I need to get started, like, now.”

Trinity’s face fell flat. “You aren’t allowed to gasp like that unless somebody’s died.”

Dennis laid back down fully. “I can gasp how I want, Trin. It says that in the Bill of Rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Well, if you need to borrow one of my energy drinks, you can.” Her eyes hardened at him. “Not my sugar-free Redbull’s though. Those are off limits.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dennis nodded. “Could I borrow a melatonin, too, maybe?”

“Sure,” Trinity shrugged.

“Thanks,” Dennis grinned at her.

~;~

Dennis stayed up through most of the night, crashing around 3:00am. He woke up at noon to an empty apartment, Trinity having left for her shift in the wee hours of the morning. Dennis nursed a small headache throughout the day, and worked on cleaning the apartment. With the money he was finally making as a resident, he could theoretically actually start paying Trinity, but she always brushed him off, which was a little annoying. He made up for the money she didn’t let him pay, with cleaning.

Dennis puttered around the apartment. He connected his phone to Trinity’s JLab speaker, and set it on the kitchen island. He washed the dishes, wiped down the counters, and scrubbed at the stovetop, humming along to Steely Dan.

He moved onto the living room at 2:30, tugging the cover off the couch and the blankets they had around, throwing them all into the wash. He vacuumed the carpet and dusted the shelves, and even sprayed down the TV, giving it a gentle wipe to rid the screen of the smears and fingerprints that somehow always managed to get there without either of them touching the TV. When the blankets and couch cover were done, Dennis grabbed his and Trinity’s laundry baskets, and threw their things into the wash next. When his playlist repeated, he turned the music off, and instead pulled up Monty Python and the Holy Grail on the TV. He watched the movie passively as he folded their laundry on the coffee table, the dryer tumbling with their towels, because he decided to wash those too.

Dennis heard the front door open as he deposited Trinity’s folded clothes onto her bed, and the sounds following her key-jingle and shoes meeting the floor was a loud thump and sigh. He walked out of her room to find her laid out on the couch, completely deflated, like a cadaver. Dennis snorted a laugh at the sight, and with a weak hand, she flipped him off.

“Bad day?” He asked, walking past her into the kitchen, already thinking of what he could make for dinner.

“The worst,” she grunted. “I got asked by three separate dudes, none of them affiliated with each other, to get them a real doctor. This old fuck, the third guy, laughed when I said I am a doctor. He laughed in my fucking face, Dennis.”

Dennis opened the fridge, and cringed when Trinity grabbed one of their throw pillows and screamed into it, the sound only slightly muffled.

“They’re stupid,” Dennis opened the vegetable drawer in the fridge, eyes brightening at the red and green pepper inside.

“So fucking stupid,” Trinity agreed, “and I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything all fucking day.”

“I’m making spaghetti,” Dennis reassured, digging around in the freezer, “with ground chicken. We’re out of beef.”

“That sounds so good,” Trinity trailed off. “Ugh, I’m so hungry, make it quickly.”

Dennis laughed, and put a pot of water onto the stove, turning the heat to high.

“I’ll make it as quickly as I can,” he conceded, and picked through Trinity’s spices.

They ate their spaghetti on the couch, The Princess Bride playing on the TV. Dennis drank one of Trinity’s Redbull’s with his meal, determined to stay up past 5:00, since after tomorrow, he’d be on night shift. She retired to bed around 9:00, though she’d fallen asleep on the couch long before that. Dennis had turned the movie off and washed the dishes, drying them off and putting them away before settling back onto the couch with her, scrolling on his phone.

He received a text from Robby a few hours after Trinity had slunk off to her room.

Dr Robby - 11:30 pm

Chicago. Did you know I did my med school here?

Dennis - 11:31 pm

No, but you might’ve mentioned it and I forgot lol. Are you from the midwest?

Dr Robby - 11:31 pm

Have I really not told you any of this?

Dr Robby - 11:32 pm

I’m from Juneau, Wisconsin, but my family moved to Milwaukee when I was maybe around 5. Left to live with my Grandma in Chicago when I was 8.

Dennis - 11:33 pm

That’s really cool. A lot cooler than Broken Bow, lol

Dr Robby - 11:35 pm

Broken Bow is cool, Whitaker, and so are you. I’m headed to bed.

Dennis - 11:35 pm

Night, Robby

Dr Robby - 11:41 pm

Goodnight, Dennis.

~;~

Dennis’s next days were similar. He stayed up late, woke up later, and when he awoke at 1:00 the day of his first night shift at the PTMC, it was to Trinity dropping a pot in the kitchen and her yelling “Oh, fuck!” right after.

Dennis rolled around in bed for a little while, listening to the sounds of Trinity bumbling in the kitchen, presumably making herself a midday lunch. He opened his phone, surprised to see a few messages from Robby. The older man standardly only texted in the evening with an update to his location, so Dennis quickly opened them, wondering if something was wrong.

Dr Robby - 7:45 am

[Imaged attached]

This is County General Hospital, where I did med school.

Dr Robby - 7:51 am

Residency matched me to Northern Westchester in Mt Kisco, NY, if you know it.

Dr Robby - 7:52 am

Abbot and I actually met at Westchester, and when he got hired at the PTMC, I followed him, since I didn’t really know anyone else, haha. The rest is history.

Dr Robby - 8:36 am

I’m headed North, decided I wanted to see Wisconsin.

Dennis read through the texts a few times, sitting up in his bed. He zoomed in on the picture that Robby had sent him, a simple photo of the outside of the hospital, a little off-kilter with the tan blurb of Robby’s finger in the corner of the frame. He hearted the photo, and sent quick replies to all the man’s texts.

Dennis - 1:19 pm

That’s really cool! Both your med school hospital and meeting Dr. Abbot. It’s all cool lol

Dennis - 1:20 pm

Ride safe, text me tonight? I’ve never been to Wisconsin, maybe take more pics

Dennis - 1:20 pm

I’m on night shift for all of August, btw. I’m gonna check on your house before I go to work today (:

Dennis got out of bed after finishing the texts, and meandered into his bathroom, stripping out of his clothes to shower. He dumped his clothes onto the ground, and kicked them out into his bedroom, and turned on the water. He flipped the fan on, the low roar filtering into the bathroom on top of the loud splatters of the water hitting the plastic bottom of the shower. Dennis glanced in the mirror, gradually fogging up as the water heated, and frowned at his bare chest. His fingers brushed over his sternum, and traced down in the small valley of his breasts. He’d need to re-tape, today. Or, if he was feeling lazy, just wear one of his binders.

Dennis showered, the water just hot enough to burn but not maim. He shampooed his hair, the length making its way steadily down his neck and over his forehead. He’d need to ask Trinity to cut it again soon.

After his shower, Dennis dried off in his room before carefully applying the KT tape in front of his full-length mirror, kneeling on the floor with his back straight, eyes following the lines he laid down. The black KT-tape was his favorite kind, and a much less-expensive purchase than actual trans-tape. Plus, it didn’t tug on his baby hairs too much, which was nice.

Dennis stood after applying the tape, stretching his arms and moving his torso in various directions to make sure it was all comfortable. He got dressed after, shimmying into a pair of plain boxer briefs and wrestling with a pair of knee-high compression socks. He slid on a deep blue, long-sleeved compression shirt that Trinity had let him borrow the other week and had never asked to have back. After, he stepped into his black scrub pants, tying the drawstrings with a double-knot at his hips, the compression shirt tucked under them. Last went his scrub shirt, and he half-hazardly packed his workbag with an extra pair of scrubs, socks, and underwear, before walking into the kitchen.

Trinity was sitting on the couch, an empty bowl of whatever she’d made earlier on the coffee table. She had The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives playing on the TV, but she was on her phone.

“Hey,” Dennis walked past her into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. “Could I have one of your Monsters?”

“Any but the pink ones,” Trinity called from her spot on the couch. 

“Thanks,” Dennis took an enticing dark-purple can, cracking it open as the fridge swung itself shut. He took a sip, and shivered at the strong flavor. “God, that’s really purple,” he muttered to himself, and looked at the name of the drink. “Oh, Ultra Violet. Makes sense.”

Dennis took another sip, and glanced down to his watch. It was nearly 3:30.

“I think I’m gonna take the bus to Robby’s, and head to work from there.” Dennis rounded the island to their shoe rack, tugging on his Walmart-brand non-slip shoes.

“Go water that man’s plants, boy,” Trinity lazily replied, “go West, young man, to the old man’s abode.”

Dennis snorted. “You are so weird.”

“You’re weirder,” Trinity countered, and scoffed. “These ladies are the weirdest though. I don’t get them at all.”

“But you’re on season four?” Dennis teased, and grabbed a light jacket from their little hanger they had next to the door, tugging it on.

“Don’t judge me,” Trinity huffed. “It’s all interesting, in its own right.”

“Sure, sure,” Dennis grabbed his bag and Trinity’s Monster, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed. “I’ll see you later, Trin.”

“Later,” she called, and Dennis exited the apartment, locking the door behind him.

~;~

The bus stop was a ten minute walk, and he waited for five minutes there, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. He checked his texts with Robby, seeing they were still on delivered, and considered texting him again. He didn’t.

The ride to Robby’s house was about twenty minutes. Dennis finished his Monster on the way, and tucked it into the side pocket of his backpack, and hopped off the bus soon after, the stop only a five minute walk to Robby’s home. Dennis walked up to the door of Robby’s brownstone townhouse at 4:22, punching in the code on the deadbolt and giving a smile to the Ring camera. 

“Hi, Dr. Robby,” he greeted the camera as the deadbolt whirred, clicking softly. Dennis entered the house, kicking off his shoes and leaving his backpack by the front door. He puttered around Robby’s home, watering the plants and re-fluffing the pillows. He checked his watch, seeing it was only 4:40, and decided to take a wander through the rest of the house, even though he knew it was largely unchanged. He re-made Robby’s bed, flattening out the blankets and arm-chopping the decorative pillows. He glanced into the man’s bathroom, and used a bit of wet toilet paper to wipe away dust-grime that had settled on the sink, tossing his makeshift rag into the trash. He checked Robby’s two other bedrooms in the house, one which was used as a workout space, and the other as an office, taking time to dust off the man’s belongings.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Dennis pulled it out, eyes widening to see a text from Robby.

Dr Robby - 5:16 pm

[Image attached]

Winnebago lake, Wisconsin. Thanks for checking on my house, Dennis.

Dennis - 5:16 pm

Of course!! And wow, that’s beautiful. Are you gonna swim?

Dr Robby - 5:17 pm

Didn’t bring a swimsuit, haha. Used to come here in the summer as a kid, though. 

Dennis - 5:17 pm

That’s awesome. I used to swim in a pond back home, on the farm. Never took formal lessons, lol

Dennis put his phone back in his pocket after he’d watched for a response for a minute, his last message read, but Robby not typing. He used the restroom, and then gathered his belongings, exiting Robby’s house at 5:30 to head towards the PTMC. He’d walk, considering it was only about ten-ish minutes. He slipped in his earbuds, a pair of grey JLab’s that Trinity had given him for his birthday, and walked with a pep in his step to work.

His phone buzzed when he was halfway through his walk.

Dr Robby - 5:36 pm

Are you a decent swimmer, then?

Dennis - 5:36 pm

I can swim to survive? I do a decent doggy paddle, and I can float on my back. It works for me

Dr Robby - 5:37 pm

There’s a great aquatic center in Pittsburgh. Swimming is great for cardiovascular health. If you ever wanted, I could take you there.

Dennis paused in his walk, staring down at his phone. His eyebrows furrowed at the text. He bit his lip, teeth worrying at the skin, and typed a response.

Dennis - 5:38 pm

Maybe (: Could be fun, but I think you’d just be my instructor most of the time lol. Dunno how productive that would be

Dr Robby - 5:38 pm

I mean, you know I don’t mind teaching you. Plus you’re a fast learner.

Dennis felt a blush prick at his face.

Dennis - 5:39 pm

Aw thanks Dr. Robby (: I’ll think about it for sure!!

His message was read, and then hearted. The heart was quickly replaced with a thumb’s up. Dennis tentatively put his phone back in his pocket, and continued the walk to work, knowing he was only about five minutes away.

~;~

The PTMC was bustling and full of energy when Dennis walked in, the post-workday rush of average nine-to-fivers toting themselves to address their issues filling up Chairs. Dennis slipped through the metal detector, thanking the night-shift hospital officer, a tall Russian man named Mischa.

The inside of the ED was even busier, if it was possible. Dennis made himself small as he hurried inside, nearly getting run over by a hurried gurney as he ducked into the locker area, heart thudding in his ears with the sudden adrenaline spike. He caught his breath, and punched in his locker code. The door clicked open, and Dennis slid off his backpack, tucking it inside.

The double-doors of the locker area clicked open, and Dr. Abbot strolled in, offering Dennis a polite nod.

“Hey, Whitaker,” Dr. Abbot entered his own locker code. “You clockin’ out?”

Dennis blinked as he shucked his jacket off. “Uh, no, actually. I’m on night shift for August.”

“Really?” Dr. Abbot’s attention jumped from his locker to Dennis, and his face contorted into a surprised, small frown. “That’s cool. Very cool.”

Dennis exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, I’m excited to see what it’s like.” He rustled around in the side pocket of his backpack, pulling out his ID card, notepad, and a few pens, tucking them into the chest pocket of his scrubs, and clipping his ID to his waistband.

“Well, considering how awesome everyone says you are,” Dr. Abbot closed his own locker, and smiled at Dennis, a little mirthful, “I’m sure you’ll do great. See you out there, Whitaker.”

“Thanks,” Dennis said reflexively, but paused as the compliment settled in his stomach, the double-doors slowly shutting after Dr. Abbot’s departure. He grabbed his phone, and texted Trinity.

Dennis - 5:57 pm

Do people say I’m awesome? Dr abbot just said people say im awesome

Trin Santos  - 5:57 pm

Are u fishing for compliments rn? Hoe

Dennis - 5:57 pm

Shut up i’m never asking you anything ever again

Trin Santos - 5:58 pm

Oh god forbid huckefart

Dennis snickered to himself as he put his phone away, hurrying out into the ED to clock in and start working.

Things moved quickly on night shift. The hours passed by in a blur, GSW’s and people with persistent coughs and pacemakers not working, a car crash in Trauma 1 and relapsing addict in Central 15, Myrna back again and swerving a pinch to the ass, and suddenly, Dennis found himself slowly eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the breakroom at 3:30 in the morning.

He sniffed, eyes boring a hole into the wall, feet throbbing in his shoes and forearms barely strong enough to raise the sandwich to his mouth. He chewed on his bite of sandwich and blinked, considering getting up to go to the coffee machine, but entirely unable to will himself to exit his seat.

Fuck, he was exhausted.

Dennis blinked, and his eyes stayed shut, that time. He exhaled slowly, swallowing his bite of sandwich blearily, and exhaled through his nose.

The breakroom door clicked open, and Dennis peeked through one eye to watch Dr. Abbot walk in. The older man cast a curious glance to Dennis before going to the coffee pot, grabbing one of the disposable cups. Dennis let his eyes close again.

Dr. Abbot poured himself a coffee, the liquid burbling softly as it hit the base of the cup, the sound lightening in tone as the cup filled. Dennis leaned back in his chair, taking another slow round of breaths, listening as Dr. Abbot tore open a few of the little creamer pods, pouring them into his cup with small plink-plop sounds.

“You alright?” Dr. Abbot asked, voice casual but lined with something a little probing.

“Fine,” Dennis wrenched his eyes open, and cracked his neck. “Just tired.”

“It’s been a long shift,” Dr. Abbot concurred, and took a quiet sip of his drink. “You’ve been taking it in stride, though. Good on you.”

“Thanks, Dr. Abbot,” Dennis sighed, and clenched his jaw through a yawn. “I should get back out there.” He scooted his chair back.

“You’re good for another minute,” Dr. Abbot’s voice was assertive but kind. Dennis’ eyes jumped over to him, and the older man gave him a listen-to-me look over the brim of his cup as he took another drink. Dennis stayed seated.

“You want a coffee?” Dr. Abbot gestured with his free hand to the machine.

Dennis swallowed, his mouth a little dry and thick from the peanut butter in his sandwich. He nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Abbot set down his coffee cup on the counter, swivelling on his foot to make Dennis a cup. 

Dennis watched passively, the fatigue settling further in his bones the longer he stayed sitting. Dr. Abbot finished pouring the cup, and glanced over his shoulder to Dennis. “Cream or sugar?” he asked, pointing to the little basket full of varied options.

“Um,” Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, “is there stevia?”

“You want a few of those?” Dr. Abbot asked, a little insistent, but voice soothing.

Dennis nodded. He heard Dr. Abbot rip open a few of the small stevia packets, dumping them in, before grabbing one of the small wooden stir-sticks and giving the coffee a swivel. He grabbed his own cup, then, and walked over to the breakroom table, setting Dennis’ drink in front of him, settling down at the table himself.

“Thanks, Dr. Abbot,” Dennis breathed, and grabbed the cup weakly, taking a drink with a sigh. “That’s good.”

“I got fancy beans at home,” Dr. Abbot remarked, and Dennis glanced up to him. “I like a really dark roast. I’m trying this new blend, ‘Jamaican Blue Mountain’. It’s a lot better than hospital coffee.”

Dennis smiled softly, and looked down to his cup. “I mostly just steal my roommates energy drinks.”

“We didn’t really have those when I was a resident,” Dr. Abbot grinned, and took another drink, “but they’re pretty popular among your age group. At least, Ellis likes them a lot, and I’m pretty sure you two are close in age.” His face contorted into a mild, playful frown, and Dennis laughed.

“I think she’s about my age, yeah,” Dennis stirred the stick in his drink. “Maybe a few years older.”

“Close enough, yeah,” Dr. Abbot hummed his affirmative. “You enjoying the shift otherwise?”

Dennis shrugged, but nodded. “Yeah, I just gotta get used to it.”

“You’ll get with it pretty quickly, I’m sure,” Dr. Abbot sipped his drink again, and glanced down to his watch. He stood from the table, and walked to the counter to put a lid on his drink. He turned towards the breakroom door, and pointed an assertive finger at Dennis. “You stay here ‘til that coffee is done. We’ve got the floor for now.”

Dennis felt a small burn of heat in his stomach. He nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” Dr. Abbot nodded, and left the breakroom. 

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, and worked on his drink.

Trinity showed up at 5:53.

Dennis caught her in the locker area, leading hard against them while she shucked her jacket off. Her hair was down, a little frizzy, and she grabbed a hairbrush from her locker, racking it through her deep brown locks.

“You want me to put it up in a ponytail?” Dennis asked. 

Trinity huffed, but handed over her brush, and tugged her hair tie off her wrist, holding that out for Dennis to grab. He chuckled, but slid up behind her, carefully combing the brush over her scalp, gathering her thick, dark hair up into his other hand.

She sighed as Dennis ran the brush through her hair one last time, ensuring there were no bumps, before handing the brush back to her, making quick work of wrapping the elastic around the thick ponytail, fastening it securely.

“There ya go,” Dennis retracted, and Trinity patted her hand over the ponytail, giving him an approving look.

“It’s so unfair that you’re so good at that,” she laughed. 

Dennis snorted, and turned to open his locker, pulling his things out. “Yeah, well, my hair used to be past my butt, so I’m pretty qualified to handle yours."

They strolled out into the ED together, the time clicking past 6:00 on Dennis’ watch.

“You gonna be okay taking the bus?” Trinity asked as they took turns on the computer, her clocking in and him clocking out.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. I took it here, so, whatever,” Dennis shrugged, not catching how Abbot glanced over from a few feet away, discussing turnover with Dr. Al-Hashimi.

“You can take my car,” Trinity offered, but Dennis shook his head.

“No, Trin. Seriously, the bus is fine. I’ll see you at turnover, okay?”

Trinity hummed, and knocked elbows with Dennis. “Later, Huckleberry.”

“Later,” Dennis walked past her, and out of the PTMC, eager to go home.

The bus ride took about forty minutes. Dennis nearly drifted off a few times, but his head would hit the window, and he’d sit back up, inhaling harshly.

He made it to the apartment at 6:55, blinking slowly and heart a dull thud through his feet. He barely remembered to flip the deadlock when he was inside, and slipped his shoes off at the door, letting his backpack fall to the floor with it. He dragged himself into his bedroom, and blearily wrestled out of his clothes, fighting with his compression socks for far longer than necessary, before collapsing onto his bed. He only briefly recalled to set his alarm for 3:00pm before crashing.

~:~

The next week of night shifts was fine. It got a little easier each time, and after the second one, Dennis had bought a bottle of ibuprofen to keep in his workbag. He texted Robby back each night, usually around 10:00, little conversations about where the man had traveled to. Abbot was a little more insistent than Robby on everyone taking breaks when they could, and had specifically required Dennis to take a break more than a few times. Dennis sat in the breakroom now, though the circumstances of his enforced break different than normal. The lights were off, and his head was cushioned by his forearms, as he took deep, steadying breaths.

He didn’t get rattled that much anymore. That was something he prided himself in. He was well-liked by the med students, praised for how headstrong and reliable he was in tough situations. Stuff didn’t freak him out. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to.

At 3:48, a teen suicide attempt was brought in by an ambulance. The kid’s mom was with them, sobbing hysterically while they mopped up blood, pumped the stomach, and resuscitated over, and over, and over again. Dennis’ arms ached from compressions, the kid’s ribs cracked underneath his desperate pushes for life, machines beeping and people hollering and the world swirling around him like a tornado. 

When they’d cut open the kids shirt, Dennis had paled at the binder containing their chest, and cut through that, too.

“My baby girl,” the mom heaved, face red and tear-tracked, Ellis holding her back from stepping into the scene, “please save my baby girl. God, please, save her. Save my Sarah, save my last baby Sarah.”

Sarah made it, though Dennis had a feeling that the kid had a different name they preferred. The name rattled something deep inside Dennis’ body, a rock or boulder, settled in his core that he’d tried to forget. Sarah was taken to the ICU, and Dennis was trembling, his entire body an earthquake tremor. He’d tried to suck in a few breaths, the air tight and thin, but he couldn’t get it, his body wasn’t with the program. He’d barely realized that it was Dr. Abbot moving him, and not his own legs driving him somewhere willingly, until he was sat down in the breakroom, Dr. Abbot’s hands hot and strong and weighty on his shoulders, gripping him tightly, giving him a gentle jostle.

“Whitaker,” Dr. Abbot leaned down in front of him, and Dennis took in a shuddered breath. “In and out. Can you breathe with me?”

Dr. Abbot’s right hand slid from Dennis’ shoulder to tightly grip the back of his neck, like how Dennis would scruff the feral kittens back home. Dennis inhaled a tight gasp, choking and coughing on it, and nodded, even though it felt like a lie.

“Inhale for five seconds. C’mon, kid, take one big breath for me.” Dr. Abbot took a low, dramatic, loud inhale. Dennis hiccupped, and felt tears brim at his eyes, as he tried to follow the older man’s instructions, barely making it through two seconds before he coughed on a cry. 

“Good boy,” Abbot got closer, between Dennis’ knees, “you got this. Exhale, now, for five seconds.” Abbot blew out of his mouth, and Dennis mimed it, his shoulders shaking as his lungs refused to work with him.

“Inhale,” Abbot instructed, breathing in loudly again. Dennis obeyed the best he could.

It took a minute. Maybe five. Possibly ten. But Dennis finally managed to take a few consistent breaths with Abbot. The older man grabbed a tissue from the box on the breakroom table, his right hand never releasing Dennis’ neck. Abbot wiped the tissue along Dennis’ face, drying the tears that had slipped from his eyes, before holding it up to his nose.

“Blow,” Abbot asserted, stern, and Dennis blew his nose, coughing again, feeling like the sickest, most stupid, and awful kid in the entire world. Abbot tossed the used tissue towards the trash, and it landed next to the bin on the floor.

“Hey,” Abbot soothed, and his hand finally let go of Dennis, his palms soothing down Dennis’ arms. “Yeah, Dennis, you got it. You’re good.” 

Dennis exhaled harshly through his mouth, and got the strength to wipe at his eyes, shivers still running through him. “‘M so sorry, Dr. Abbot,” he croaked, inhaling a stuttered breath. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Abbot’s hands moved from Dennis’ arms to his thighs, petting over them, “never be sorry. That was a hard case, and you did a really good job.” Abbot’s right hand gently reached to cradle Dennis’ jaw, forcing the young man to make eye contact with him. “I mean that, Dennis. You did good. Do not be sorry.”

Dennis hiccupped, but nodded in the older man’s grip. “Okay,” he exhaled.

“Good,” Abbot nodded, and they stayed there for another moment. Abbot’s eyes jumped between Dennis’ face and the door to the breakroom, his thumb gently rubbing Dennis’ jaw in soothing little circles. Dennis bit his lip, embarrassment curling up inside him, spreading like snake venom.

“I’m gonna get back out there,” Abbot patted Dennis’ thigh, “and you’re gonna stay here for a while, with the lights off, and take a nice long breather. Can you do that for me?”

Dennis sniffled, and nodded. Abbot gently shook Dennis’ jaw, and then patted his cheek before standing. The cold swept in where Abbot had been, and Dennis shivered.

“You come out when you’re ready,” Dr. Abbot affirmed. “I’m proud of you. That was hard. You got this, okay?”

Dennis nodded again, feeling a little like a bobble-head. Dr. Abbot left the room, flipping the light off as he went, closing the door fully. Dennis buried his face in his forearms, leaned against the table, and stayed there for another ten minutes.

~:~

Trinity showed up for her shift at 5:50.

Dennis had scrubbed his face clean in the bathroom after what he was now referring to in his head as The Kid Incident, and when he’d gotten back onto the floor around 4:30, Abbot hadn’t said anything, only offering Dennis a brief nod of acknowledgement. Dennis wondered as he continued his work, pretending like nothing had ever happened, if this was how Robby felt after Dennis had caught him in Pedes during Pittfest. He didn’t tell her about it, about what had happened with the Kid, as they stood in the locker room. He didn’t tell Trinity when he helped her put her hair up again, even though she asked if anything had happened, You’re kind of quiet, Huckleberry. This time, she asked for a half-up-half-down, and Dennis carefully parted through her locks, the strands soft against his fingers. He clocked out in a daze, and as he exited the PTMC, he paused, hearing the sound of Dr. Abbot’s uneven gait approaching behind him quickly.

He turned, facing the man, who looked a little winded.

“Hey, Whitaker,” Dr. Abbot sidled up to Dennis, eyes flickering over his face.

“Hi,” Dennis nodded at him, the shame from earlier nearly-boiling over in his chest. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and hoped Abbot didn’t notice.

Silence stilled for a second, the distant noises of the city bustling past them. Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, and Abbot glanced to the side, scratching at his jaw, and exhaled harshly, redirecting his focus back to Dennis. 

Dennis stayed still, watching Abbot.

Abbot cleared his throat, and shoved his hands in his scrub pockets. “Let me drive you home.”

Dennis blinked. Abbot stared at him, waiting, his jaws tensing.

“Um,” Dennis faltered, “you- you don’t have to do that for me, Dr. Abbot.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” Dr. Abbot’s eyebrows raised, assertive, “you’ve had a long day. Let me drive you home.” 

Dennis exhaled slowly. He scanned Dr. Abbot, and the resignation inside of him uncoiled, only slightly. “Okay,” he nodded, “yeah. Thank you.”

“Cool,” Dr. Abbot grinned. “C’mon, my truck is in the parking garage.”

They walked to the parking garage in companionable silence. The sun rose, visible through the concrete pillars, and Abbot fished his car keys out of his pocket. A black Ford truck’s lights flashed at them, the door locks clicking, and Dennis hoisted himself into the passenger seat as Abbot entered on the other side. Inside Abbot’s truck, noise from outside was muffled, and Dennis’ shuffle as he buckled himself in felt far too loud. Abbot turned the car on, and Dennis shivered as the AC poured out of the vents.

“Shit, sorry,” Abbot muttered, and turned down the air. His phone connected to the truck, the radio clicking over to a Tool song that Dennis hadn’t heard since he still shared a room with his older brother, Noah.

“I like this song,” Dennis exhaled softly, settling back into his chair.

“Really?” Abbot glanced over, a small smile on his face. “‘Sober’ is a classic. The whole Undertow album is great, honestly.” He adjusted the truck into reverse, pulling out of the spot.

“I haven’t listened to it fully, I don’t think,” Dennis murmured, “it was more my older brother’s music than mine.”

“Makes sense,” Abbot hummed, “wanna punch your address into the GPS?”

“Sure,” Dennis sat up, clicking across the screen, quickly typing in his and Trinity’s apartment complex. Once it was in, he sat back, and Abbot glanced over the instructions as he drove them out onto North Avenue.

Dennis pulled out his phone as they drove, clicking over the most recent texts from Robby, though he’d read and responded to them hours ago. He swiped away when Abbot cleared his throat, glancing over to the older man.

“Uh, Dennis, I just want you to know,” Abbot started, and he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, “that things like that happen to everyone, and it happens to them all the time. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, or ashamed, or anything. I’ve been doing therapy for years and I still get like that.”

A thick lump formed in Dennis’ throat, and he swallowed around it harshly, breath tight in his lungs. “Okay,” Dennis whispered.

“Yeah,” Abbot exhaled. “Yeah. You’re a really good kid, Dennis. And you did a great job today. It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Okay,” Dennis nodded, “um, thank you, Dr. Abbot.”

Abbot huffed a laugh. “Of course, Dennis. Always.”

Dennis sniffled, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, and they rode the rest of the way quietly.

When they rolled up to his apartment complex, Dennis sat up in his seat slightly. Abbot turned down the music, something by Chevelle, now, and glanced over to the younger man. Abbot pulled into a parking spot, and Dennis unbuckled.

“Do you work today?” Abbot asked softly. Dennis nodded as he slung on his backpack.

“I can pick you up,” Abbot offered.

Dennis paused, and looked over to him. “Are you asking, this time?”

Abbot smiled, a little crooked, maybe a little shy. “Yeah, this time I am.”

Dennis bit his lip. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to,” Abbot shrugged. “Doesn’t the bust cost? I’ll save you some money.”

“But you’d be wasting gas.”

“You’d be on the way,” Abbot insisted, his eyes gentle. “I’m headed to Squirrel Hill North. It’s not wasting gas.”

Dennis inhaled and exhaled slowly, and minutely, he nodded. “Okay.”

“Cool,” Abbot grinned. “Let me get your number. The work app is always laggy.”

Dennis felt himself flush, but opened the contacts app on his phone, and handed the device over to Abbot. He watched as Abbot’s fingers flew across the screen, ears twitching as Abbot’s phone vibrated in his pocket. On the screen of Abbot’s dashboard, where the GPS helpfully announced that they’d arrived at their location, a message came down from the top. Dennis immediately recognized his phone number, the message containing the words “dennis whit”. Abbot had texted himself from Dennis’ phone.

Abbot handed Dennis his phone back. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Dennis nodded. “Okay.” He reached for the handle of the car door, and pushed it open, stepping out onto the ground. He paused there, for a moment, with the door open, and looked up to Abbot in the car.

Dennis swallowed. “Thank you, Dr. Abbot. For everything.”

Abbot’s face softened. “Yeah,” he nodded, “always.”

Dennis closed the car door, and walked into his apartment building. He kicked his shoes off once he was inside, and let his bag fall to the floor. He flipped the deadbolt closed, and trudged to his bedroom. He shucked his clothes off, and fell to his bed, checking his alarm was turned on before going to sleep.

~;~

Dennis woke up before his alarm went off, but only by a few minutes, at 2:52 pm. He rolled over, the light of the day infecting his bedroom, and smushed his face into his pillow. He blinked, and then his alarm was buzzing beneath his pillow. He jerked awake, and reached over to grab his phone, sliding the bar across the screen to silence the alarm. His eyes, bleary and fuzzy with sleep, widened at the sight of a few texts from Dr. Abbot. His lips curled into a confused smile at the contact name Abbot had given himself.

Favorite Night Shift Attending - 1:14 pm

Ur address didn’t save in my gps. Send it 2 me again?

Favorite Night Shift Attending - 1:28 pm

Nvm I figured it out

Favorite Night Shift Attending - 2:09 pm

Since ur 20 mins from the armPitt i’ll get u at 5:30? MayB 5:25

Favorite Night Shift Attending - 2:10 pm

I like 2 B early 

Dennis’s mouth flattened into a small grin. He entered Abbot’s contact, and hesitated over changing the man’s contact name, huffing a laugh to himself, before going in to edit it. He texted Abbot back after.

Dennis - 3:02 pm

5:25 sounds good (: thanks Dr Abbot

Dennis clicked his phone off, and got out of bed to go shower. He sat his phone on the bathroom vanity as he slipped out of his boxers and peeled off his tape, the edges of the binding material fraying at the edges and in dire need of replacement. He winced when the KT-tape tugged one of his baby hairs, and his phone vibrated loudly against the tile. He made quick work of easing the rest of the tape off of himself, and then picked up his phone.

Dr Abbot (FNSA) - 3:12 pm

Lol u like my contact name?

Dennis snorted quietly, and typed his response.

Dennis - 3:12 pm

Might’ve made it an abridged version, but it was funny lol

Dr Abbot (FNSA) - 3:13 pm

Im totally the funniest

Dennis - 3:13 pm

ArmPitt is pretty clever wordplay, Dr Abbot

Dr Abbot (FNSA) - 3:13 pm

Stinks like shit in there sumtimes right??

A smile cracked across Dennis’ face, and he exhaled a laugh.

Dennis - 3:14 pm

Absolutely

Dennis set his phone down, and turned on the shower, as well as the bathroom fan. The sounds roared to life, and Dennis finished peeling off the rest of his tape.

After his shower, Dennis dried himself off. He opened his KT-tape box, and balked at the sight of too little tape to properly bind himself with. 

“Shit,” he murmured. He picked up his phone, and it was almost 4:00. He had an hour and a half until Abbot would get here, and that wasn’t enough time to take the bus to the store to buy more. Dennis frowned to himself, and put the box back where it belonged. 

He tugged on his binder, a plain black one that he’d had for a few years. It didn’t work the best, but Trinity had assured him the other times he’d worn it that it mostly just made him look like he had big pectorals. Dennis observed himself in his full-length mirror, turning side to side, and sighed, knowing he didn’t have much other choice. He tugged on pajama pants and a baggy old t-shirt, and shuffled into the kitchen to make himself food.

He ate a breakfast of champions—cinnamon oatmeal, because that was all he had—at the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone. He stayed there for a while longer after he’d finished eating, absorbed in a Smosh Reddit Stories YouTube video. His 4:45 alarm went off, a reminder for him to get ready for work, and he went to his bedroom to get dressed.

At 5:10, Dennis received a text from Abbot.

Dr Abbot (FNSA) - 5:10

Omw. Eta 5:25

Dennis thumbed up the message, spent the next while getting his things together. He remade his bed, re-packed his work bag, and snagged one of Trinity’s RedBull’s from the fridge. At 5:24, he walked out of his apartment building, and stood on the sidewalk, trying to act casual on his phone while also keeping an eye out for Abbot’s truck. He sipped on the RedBull, internally willing the caffeine to work on him faster.

Abbot’s truck turned into the parking lot, and Dennis noted the license plate was from New York. Abbot pulled into the spot in front of Dennis, and he rounded the side of the car, the doors unlocking with a click right before he grabbed the handle. He climbed into the truck, and Tool was playing from the radio again. 

“Hi,” Dennis placed the RedBull in the cupholder, swung the door closed, and buckled himself.

“Hey, kid,” Dr. Abbot offered him a smile. “You sleep okay?”

Dennis paused for a second at the question, but nodded as Abbot reversed out of the spot. “Um, yeah, I did. I sort of went to bed the second I got home.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Abbot hummed, and with his right hand, set his phone on the dash in between them. “If you wanna pick out music to listen to, you can. Password is 1229.”

Dennis blinked. “Huh?”

Abbot glanced over, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“Pick something out. I like just about everything.”

Dennis hesitated, but picked up Abbot’s phone, typing in the four-digit code. Abbot used Spotify, which was thankfully a familiar platform. Dennis clicked over to the search bar, and waffled for a moment on what to look up. He settled on something after a moment, clicking around to play the artist’s radio.

Dirty Work by Steely Dan filtered through the radio, and Abbot cast Dennis a surprised look.

“You like Steely Dan?”

Dennis nodded, and set Abbot’s phone back down. “I like 70s stuff, yeah,” he settled into his chair. “I think Labi Siffre is my favorite singer, though.”

“Jeez, have you told Robby about your music taste?” Abbot laughed. “He loves this kinda stuff.”

“That’s cool,” Dennis cracked a smile.

“You’re pretty cool, too,” Abbot adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, and Dennis felt his cheeks pink at the way the man’s triceps flexed. Dennis firmly reoriented his attention to the road.

“Thanks, Dr. Abbot,” he mumbled.

~:~

Abbot drove Dennis to-and-from work for about two weeks, and, all things considered, it was relatively normal. They didn’t really text outside of work, their conversations consisting largely of “omw” and “do you work today?”

Dennis didn’t mind. Trinity had given him a look when he’d told her about it, and she’d postulated that maybe Abbot was into him. He’d quickly disproved that idea by showing her their texts, and she conceded. They agreed that he was just being nice.

And then, suddenly, it was the end of August. Dennis got the schedule for September during one of his shifts, the email notification sitting on his homescreen. Dennis checked it during another enforced break, though it was simply a gentle Go get some water, Whitaker. Ellis, you go after him. We all need to hydrate. 

Dennis sipped on his water in the breakroom, tapping into his Gmail. He clicked on the email, and his eyes widened. He texted Trinity immediately.

Dennis - 1:21 am

I got all night shift for September

Trin Santos - 1:21 am 

No fucking way

Dennis - 1:21 am

Why tf are you awake

Trin Santos - 1:22 am

I had to pee hucklestinkyass

Dennis - 1:22 am

Hucklestinkyass isnt even close to huckleberry anymore

Trin Santos - 1:22 am

Idgaf. But there’s the win in getting chauffeured by abbot more

Dennis - 1:23 am

Idk I feel kind of bad that he does it ):

Trin Santos - 1:23 am

Ur the only twink in the entire world thats upset about a silver fox driving him around

Dennis - 1:23 am

Go back to bed

Trin Santos - 1:24 am

I do what I want

Trin Santos - 1:24 am

Gn tho im tired asf

Dennis smiled, and hearted Trinity’s message. He gulped down the last of his water, and tossed the cup in the trash before hurrying back out to the ED. Ellis caught his eyes, and she eagerly headed towards the breakroom. Abbot nodded to Dennis as he rejoined, walking over to the central desk to check over the EHR Dashboard.

“You wanna go Triage that knee replacement check?” Abbot asked, and Dennis’ eyes scanned over the screen until he saw what Abbot was referring to.

“Yeah, I can,” Dennis nodded, and turned to walk off towards South 8, where the patient was being held.

“Or,” Abbot reached out to stop Dennis, his hand gently snagging the younger man’s shoulder. “I could send you on a really important mission.”

Dennis paused, and adjusted to face Abbot fully, his eyebrow raising curiously. “What sort of mission?”

Abbot grinned playfully, and released Dennis to dig in his pockets. Abbot made a noise of success as he located what he wanted, pulling a brown trifold wallet out, opening it quickly and passing Dennis two fifty-dollar bills.

Dennis sputtered, and Abbot interrupted him. “Go to the 24-7 Dunkin. It’s like a five minute walk. I want donuts, so get, like, I dunno, however much $100 can get.”

Dennis glanced up to Abbot. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe a coffee for yourself, too,” Abbot shrugged. “You up for this?
Dennis blinked, and laughed softly, tucking the money in his pocket. “Uh, okay, sure. Should I clock out?”

“Nah,” Abbot waved his hand, “just try to be back quickly.”

Dennis dipped into the locker room to grab his jacket and bag, and then left the Pitt, quickly headed to the Dunkin Donuts.

The workers seemed surprised but entertained by Dennis’ explanation, and he ended up walking out with four dozen donuts, as they insisted that was the most they could serve to someone without a pre-order. So, Dennis had $38 leftover tucked safely in his pocket as he carefully walked the donuts back into the PTMC. 

“Fuck. Yes.” Shen said, and relieved Dennis of two of the boxes. 

“Thanks,” Dennis smiled at Shen, and glanced across the ED, where Abbot flashed him two big thumbs-up and a wide smile.

“Take ‘em to the breakroom!” Abbot called.

Shen and Dennis delivered the donuts to the breakroom, setting them on the table and countertop. Abbot followed them in, and Dennis handed over the remaining cash.

Abbot took the money, but his eyebrows furrowed at Dennis. “I told you to use all of it.”

Dennis shrugged. “They wouldn’t sell me more than four dozen.”

“You could’ve got yourself a coffee.”

“My hands were sorta full,” Dennis exhaled a laugh, and gestured towards the donuts. 

Shen passed them, leaving the breakroom with a donut already in his mouth. The door closed behind him.

“Well,” Abbot glanced down at the cash, and tried to hand it back to Dennis. “Just keep it, then. Use it for something else.”

Dennis balked, and looked down at the wad of cash. He laughed awkwardly, “um, no, Dr. Abbot, I’m fine.”

“No, seriously,” Abbot held it out a little further, his hand almost touching Dennis’ chest. “Take it, like, as a tip.”

Dennis’ mouth curled into a polite smile, and he leaned, only slightly, away from Abbot. “I don’t need your money, Dr. Abbot. Doordasher’s don’t even get tips that large. I’d accept, like, $5 at the most.”

“Fine,” Abbot brushed through the cash, fishing out a five dollar bill. “Five for ya.”

Dennis blinked, and took the money from Abbot.

“Good,” Abbot nodded, and shoved the rest of the cash into his pockets. He oriented towards the boxes, and the moment was over. “Did they have any blueberry cake donuts?”

“Um,” Dennis shook his head to himself, “yeah, they’re with the jelly-filled ones.”

At 5:55, Dennis trudged into the locker area, shaking. He’d given compressions to an adult male, heart attack victim, for well over ten minutes, before they’d been able to defibrillate him. Abbot had pulled him away from the patient, hands heavy and warm on his shoulders, and in the noise of the room, pressed his face close to Dennis’ ear.

“Go get your things, kid,” Abbot’s voice had rattled Dennis’ spine, gravelly yet soft. “I’ll meet you out there. C’mon.”

Dennis had walked out of Central 12, a little dazed, shoulders too cold, and went to the lockers. It wasn’t until he’d tried to punch his locker code in that he saw how bad his tremors were. He flexed his hands, blinking at how detached they felt from himself, how sore his forearms were starting to feel after doing compressions for so long. He inhaled a slow, shuddered breath, counting to five in his head, and closing his eyes. He tucked his hands around himself, squeezing them to his sides with his arms, and exhaled through his mouth, counting to five again. He held himself tighter, squeezing his torso firmly as he took in another breath, and rocked back into his heels, leaning forward onto his toes as he exhaled.  

The double-doors of the locker area clicked open, and Dennis glanced over, seeing that it was Abbot. The man passed his own locker, instead moving to stand next to Dennis, looking over him with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m fine,” Dennis muttered before Abbot could ask. “Just tired.”

“Shit, I would be, too, after that many compressions,” Abbot nodded. His eyes scanned over Dennis’ face again, still stern, still worried.

Dennis untucked his arms, frowning at the shakes that still affected him. Abbot noticed immediately, and looked back towards the lockers.

“Which is yours?” the older man asked.

“I got it,” Dennis side-stepped Abbot, and slowly pressed the buttons on his locker, focusing hard, and the small door clicked open. Abbot frowned, but walked over to his own locker, quickly entering the code and getting his stuff out. 

Dennis shrugged on his jacket, zipping it up to his chest, and grabbed his bag, next, before pushing his locker closed. He looked over to Abbot, who pulled a black, fleece quarterzip over his head, shoving his arms through and adjusting it. He grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder while closing his locker in one swift move.

“Ready?” Abbot asked, and Dennis nodded. 

Dennis followed Abbot out into the ED, and Abbot nodded at Al-Hashimi, who was chatting with Dana. Dennis gave them both a small wave, and fell in line beside Abbot as they got into the parking garage. They got into Abbot’s truck, a comfortable routine at this point, but Abbot paused after he turned the vehicle on.

Dennis glanced over to him, eyelids heavy and arms properly hurting now. 

Abbot looked over to Dennis, his eyes a little narrow and lips pursed like he was considering something.

“Is something up?” Dennis yawned.

“Y’know what?” Abbot asked. Dennis raised an eyebrow. “I really want Waffle House,” Abbot admitted. “There’s one by your apartment. You wanna get breakfast with me?”

Dennis blinked slowly at Abbot. “... Do you work today?”
“Nope,” the man’s mouth curled into a small grin. “And neither do you.”

Dennis’ eyes disconnected from Abbot’s, and he considered it. His stomach rumbled unhelpfully.

“I’ll pay for it,” Abbot appealed, voice dipping a little lower.

Dennis felt a small flush threaten his face. “Alright,” he conceded, “let’s go.”

“Score,” Abbot grinned, and Dennis laughed softly as they quickly reversed out of the parking spot. “I want some cheesy hashbrowns so bad, kid, you don’t even get it. I’ve been thinking about them all night.”

“I haven’t been to a Waffle House in forever,” Dennis relaxed in his seat, and picked a little at his fingernails. “Should I get a waffle?”

Abbot pondered aloud. “I mean, I’ve heard they serve those, but I’m not sure of the quality.”

Dennis giggled, the exhaustion of the day loosening him. “Maybe they’ll give me a pancake if I ask nicely,” Dennis said, and laughed to himself softly.

“I make pretty good pancakes,” Abbot said matter-of-factly, “if you ever want any particularly spectacular ones, call me, not IHOP.”

Dennis grinned, his thumbnail dragging along the cuticle of his left index finger. “Maybe I will,” he murmured.

They got to the Waffle House in about ten minutes, and inside, sat themselves at a booth in the corner, up against the windows. A server came by, notepad in her hands. She was young, maybe around Dennis’ age, with dark, sharp eyeliner and deep purple hair.

“Hi, guys,” she greeted them, and she had a silver smiley piercing that showed when she grinned, setting down their menus in front of them. “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

“Decaf coffee, please,” Abbot asked, already looking over the menu.

“Just water,” Dennis looked up at her, and she nodded, scribbling it down on her notepad. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back with those.” She walked off, and Dennis’ eyes followed her. She was attractive. He smiled to himself—if Trinity was here, she would’ve been drooling.

Abbot drummed his fingers on the table, catching Dennis’ attention. He leaned in a little conspiratorially, and gestured with his eyes to their server. “You think she’s cute?”

Dennis blushed, and shook his head. “Um, no. I mean, she is cute, but she’s not my type.”

“Fair,” Abbot shrugged, and flipped his menu over. “Is there anyone you’re involved with, just in general?”

Dennis glanced up at Abbot, mild curious trepidation simmering inside of him. “Not really, no,” Dennis looked at the bacon egg and cheese hashbrown bowl, and his stomach ached with hunger. 

“Really?” Abbot intoned, “that’s kind of surprising.”

Dennis went to answer, but their server came back, setting their drinks in front of them. “You guys know what you’d like to eat, or would you like another minute with the menu?”

“I’m ready,” Abbot glanced to Dennis.

“You order first,” Dennis nodded, and quickly resolved to make up his mind.

“Um, then I’ll take two peanut butter waffles, please,” Abbot’s eyes scanned the menu, “three over-easy eggs, and hashbrowns with cheese, jalapenos, and ham on them, please.”

The server nodded along, writing everything down, and then looked to Dennis. “For you?”

“Uh,” Dennis bit his lip, “could I get the bacon, egg, hashbrown, and cheese bowl, please?”

She nodded, and wrote on her notepad. “Anything else I could get for you guys?”

“A plain waffle for him as well, please,” Abbot pointed to Dennis. The younger man’s eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded to the server, and she took their menus, walking off.

“Why’d you do that?” Dennis asked, his right hand fidgeting absentmindedly with his silverware.

“It’s Waffle House,” Abbot shrugged, “you gotta get a waffle.”

Dennis frowned slightly, but accepted that answer. A beat passed, and Dennis raised his eyes to Abbot as the older man took a drink of his coffee.

“What did you mean by ‘that’s kind of surprising’?”

Abbot set his mug back down, and licked his lips reflectively. He sat back in his seat. “I mean, you’re a great guy, Dennis. You’re smart, quick-witted, funny, cute. With all those factors, I figured you’d be in the dating scene, at least a little.”

Dennis flushed, and took a sip of his water. “I dunno,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “I’m just kind of like, busy, I guess. I’ve gone to bars and clubs with Trinity before, and,” he huffed a laugh, “she’s definitely tried to wingman me some hookups, but that’s just not really for me.”

“You’re more into actual relationships, then?” Abbot concluded, and Dennis nodded, trailing his finger along the edge of his glass.

“I guess so,” Dennis shrugged, “I had a, um,” he swallowed harshly, and kept his gaze down at the table, “a boyfriend, when I was an MS1. He was great, but, uh, broke it off when he got placed in Georgia for his residency.”

Abbot’s eyebrows rose curiously. “So he was a little older than you?”

Dennis felt his face grow a little hotter. “I guess, yeah. I mean, he was my TA for one of my first-semester classes, so, I dunno.”

“How illicit,” Abbot joked, and Dennis laughed, raising his hand to rub at his hot face.

“Kind of, yeah,” Dennis’ hand was cold against his cheeks, relieved that the reaction was about age, and not about gender. He still worried about that stuff, every now and then. Dennis exhaled another laugh. “I dunno. He was pretty nice, and things were good when we dated.”

“Just circumstances that separated you,” Abbot hummed. “Have you dated anyone since?”

Dennis shook his head, but paused, and wavered his head side to side. “Uh, kinda? I had like, a weird thing with a friend of mine when I was an MS3, but it never really went anywhere.” He chuckled to himself, “he was, like, super avoidant. I wanted to date him, y’know, for real, but he always kind of ran away from those conversations.”

“Was he older, too?” Abbot spoke, the noise echoing inside his mug as he took a drink.

Dennis bit his lip. “I mean, he was an MS4? So, not a crazy age gap, or anything.”

“I wouldn’t have judged you even if it was one,” Abbot shrugged casually. “My parents were pretty far apart in their marriage. They met when they were 30 and 49, and I was born when my mom was 33.”

“Wow,” Dennis blinked. “My mom and dad were high school sweethearts. She had my brother Silas when she was 19, my other brother Elijah when she was 21, my other-other brother Noah when she was 24, and me when she was 28.”

“That’s a lot of boys,” Abbot grinned. “My mom had my little sister, Andrea, when she was 35.”

“I think two is a much more reasonable amount of children,” Dennis nodded.

“Just one of those things,” Abbot shrugged. “I never had kids. Andrea had three in her twenties, and mom was happy with that amount of grandbabies, so I signed off on continuing the family line.”

Dennis laughed. “Lucky you, I think?”

“I dunno about luck,” Abbot hummed, “just how it rolled out. I work too damn much for kids, I think, so I never really bothered.”

“Yeah,” Dennis took a sip of his water.

“No other boyfriends in the picture, then?” Abbot asked, a little more straightforward than he’d been before.

Dennis’ eyes narrowed slightly at him. “Why are you so curious about my love life?”

“I want to get to know you,” Abbot took a sip of his own drink. “I think you’re interesting, and I like having you on my night shift team.”

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, and scanned over Abbot. The man was relaxed, posture open, expression easy. Maybe he was just genuinely curious. Dennis’ eyes averted to the table.

“Um, no, there hasn’t been any boyfriends since,” Dennis responded to Abbot’s earlier question. The older man’s lips quirked in the corner.

“Maybe you’ll find someone soon,” Abbot chimed, “though I wouldn’t go for anyone at the PTMC. Or, at least, not other residents or med students. There’s a decent amount of hookup culture that I’ve witnessed.” Abbot exhaled a soft breath, “and that’s not for you, is it?”

Something was strange in the air between Dennis and Abbot, but he couldn’t place exactly what. Dennis nodded slowly. “Yeah, not really for me.”

Their server came by, and dropped off their food. Things were quiet as they ate their food, Dennis’ stomach finally sated. 

Abbot drove him home, afterwards. The sun had risen, the time a little past 7:00, and Dennis laid awake in his bed for a while after, wearing only his boxer briefs and an old, baggy t-shirt. He fell asleep around 8:00, buried under his blankets, cold.

~;~

By the second week of September, Robby had made it to Montana. He’d sent Dennis plenty of photos, various snapshots of lakes, forests, and birds. They had little conversations most nights, though sometimes Dennis was so busy at work that he’d only be able to react to Robby’s messages and pictures with a thumbs up.

Additionally, by the second week of September, Dennis and Abbot had gotten breakfast at Waffle House five separate times. In two weeks. The staff were starting to recognize them.

On Friday, when their shift was over, Dennis piled into Abbot’s car with a long, tired sigh. It was 7:45, over an hour and a half since their shift had ended, but a shooting at a nearby deli had kept them. Abbot was sullen and silent, eyebrows pinched inward and eyes tired as he focused on getting them out of the parking garage. They started driving in the general direction of Dennis’ apartment, and he slumped against the passenger-side door, completely and totally wiped out.

“Do you want Waffle House?” Abbot asked quietly.

Dennis grunted. “No.”

“You said you were starving, like, an hour ago.”

“I don’t want Waffle House, though,” Dennis gripped, eyelids getting heavy as his adrenaline steadily crashed.

“What do you want, then?”

Dennis thought about it for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had flattened into something softer, wavering. “I want pancakes.”

“I can make pancakes,” Abbot murmured. His hand crept across the dash to lightly poke Dennis’ thigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dennis exhaled sharply, and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Let me make you pancakes,” Abbot’s hand briefly closed around Dennis’ thigh, giving him a squeeze before retracting. Something inside Dennis’ chest clenched, hard and taut like an over-extended rubber band. His face heated.

“You’d have to drive me back,” Dennis bit the inside of his cheek.

“We can sleep before then,” Abbot appealed, “do you work today?”

Dennis shook his head.

“Me neither, so, no stress about it. I’ll take you to mine, I’ll make you pancakes, and you can crash in my guest bedroom.”

Dennis’ teeth worried further into the bite inside his cheek. “Still kind of inconvenient.”

“I don’t mind,” Abbot shrugged. “Plus, I kind of want pancakes too.”

The drive to Squirrel Hill North was about twenty-five minutes. Or, Dennis assumed so, considering the time on his phone. He’d knocked out on the way, the rumbling of the car and low tune of music sending him to sleep with ease.

He roused when the car rolled to a stop, and sat up, stretching his arms out in front of himself, yawning.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” Abbot chuckled, “let’s go eat some pancakes.”

Dennis stepped out of Abbot’s truck, and looked up to the house, his eyes widening in appreciation. Abbot lived in a Tudor Revival style house, the wooden framing painted a deep, charcoal grey, with the primary color of the house a muted grey-green. Dennis pushed the truck door closed, and took in the massive, well-maintained yard, dwarf conifers and medium-height shrubs around the porch, and a massive blue spruce pine next to the house. 

“Your house is beautiful,” Dennis blinked at it, and Abbot chuckled, rounding the truck to gently grab Dennis’ shoulder, and guide him towards the porch.

“My late wife picked it out,” Abbot stepped up to the door, entering a code in the deadbolt.

“She had wonderful taste,” Dennis’ eyes travelled over the exterior of the home again. 

“She did indeed,” Abbot agreed, and led Dennis inside.

The inside of Abbot’s house was as stunning as the outside. Paintings, artistic photography, and splashes of various colors laid across the walls. Dennis stepped out of his shoes, and didn’t object as Abbot helped him get his backpack off, leaving it at the door. The inside of the home had that same wooden framing, typical for Tudor style, and Dennis’ eyes tracked over each square of wall space, all of them painted various shades of warm reds, oranges, and browns. The floor was pale oak, but runner carpets in varied shades of greens and browns filled the floor. Abbot led Dennis through the house, past a living room with a large flatscreen TV and dark leather furniture, and into a kitchen, depositing Dennis at cushy stool at a tall, red oak wooden island.

Abbot walked over to the pantry, opening the deep wood doors and stepping inside, humming to himself. Dennis leaned against the island counter, gently trailing his index finger along the grains in the wood. Exhaustion seeped further through him, his feet lead weights, hanging from the chair lazily. 

Abbot exited the pantry, pancake mix in his hands, and gave Dennis a small look as he set it down on the counter, grabbing a mixing bowl from underneath the island, plopping it down. Dennis leaned against his fist, and his eyelids slowly slipped shut to the sounds of Abbot bustling around in his kitchen. The burner clicked on, and Dennis’ nostrils flared at the smell of pancakes beginning to cook. He opened his eyes, just a little, and inhaled the scent, his stomach growling noisily. Abbot was faced away, and he’d shed his jacket at some point, flipping one of the pancakes with a spatula, and it sizzled as it plopped down on the griddle.

Abbot’s shoulder blades moved underneath his shirt, a plain light grey tee that fit him a little tightly around the shoulders. Dennis bit the inside of his cheek as Abbot flipped another pancake, his triceps flexing and scapula shifting with the move, a little vein in his forearm twitching.

Dennis’ stomach twisted again, with something different than hunger. Or maybe something very similar to hunger.

After another few minutes, Abbot plopped a few pancakes down on a terracotta plate, and grabbed it, setting it down on the island in front of Dennis. He moved back towards the stove, and dug around in a drawer, retrieving a fork and knife, setting that next to the plate. Dennis sat up slightly.

“I have maple syrup,” Abbot spoke, eyes flickering up towards Dennis’ face, ensuring he was paying attention, “as well as blueberry syrup, and strawberry syrup. The fancy kinds, not, like, Hershey’s.”

Dennis blinked, willing himself to wake up a little bit more. “Could I have the blueberry kind?”

“Sure,” Abbot nodded, and turned down the burner, quickly ducking into the pantry, returning with a nice-looking glass flask, a deep blue-purple, viscous liquid inside. He set it down in front of Dennis, and then returned to the stovetop, plopping the rest of the cooked pancakes onto his own plate.

Dennis glanced around the kitchen, looking for butter. His bleary eyes settled onto a small ceramic cow sitting on the center of the island, and reached over to it, gently lifting. He smiled slightly as a stick of butter was revealed underneath.

“I like the cow,” Dennis hummed as he swiped up butter for himself with his knife, and Abbot brought his plate over, standing on the other side of the island.

“Her name is Betty,” Abbot smiled, and cut himself a little square off the end of the stick, plopping it onto his bottom-most pancake. Dennis giggled, missing how Abbot’s eyes brightened at the sound.

They ate quietly. Dennis’ eyelashes fluttered at the blueberry syrup, and he swirled a piece of pancake he’d cut around in the pool of syrup in his plate, licking some of the stickiness off his lips. “Thank you, Dr. Abbot,” Dennis looked up to the older man, the edges of his vision a little blurry.

“Just Jack is fine,” Abbot took his own bite, and his eyes met Dennis’. They were hazel and striking, sending a small static shock down Dennis’ spine. “Are your pancakes good?”
“They’re very yummy,” Dennis nodded, smiling around the piece he’d shoved in his mouth. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Of course,” Abbot breathed, voice almost like a croon. “Anytime.”

When they finished eating, Abbot took their dishes and utensils, depositing them in the sink. Dennis tried to insist on washing them, paying Abbot back, and Abbot hushed him, his hand moving to the small of Dennis’ back, guiding him through the house.

“It’s time for bed, Dennis,” Abbot insisted, “it’s almost 9:00.” Dennis didn’t fight, yawning loudly as Abbot turned them down a corner, and stopped there, pointing towards the three doors.

“The door on the left is my bedroom, the one next to it is the guest bathroom, and this,” Abbot opened the door on the left, “is the guest bedroom.”

Dennis stepped into the room, and without any argument, crawled onto the bed. “Oh, wow, this is soft,” he whispered, petting over the sage green comforter. 

“It’s got a high thread count, I think,” Abbot remarked from the doorway. “Get some sleep, kid.”

“I will,” Dennis yawned again, his ears popping belatedly as he did. The door clicked shut, and Dennis made lazy work of slipping off his pants and socks, throwing off his shirt with them, onto the floor. He tucked himself under the thick blanket, only his boxers on, KT-tape stretched across his torso, and buried his head into the pillow, knocking out.

Abbot walked out into the kitchen. He flipped off the lights and ran some water over the syrup-sticky plates, and walked through the foyer to head back to his bedroom. He paused at the sound of an insistent vibration, coming from somewhere. He turned slowly, trying to locate the sound. It continued, then stopped for a moment. Abbot waited, and the vibration came to life again, intermittent like a phone call. He glanced over to Dennis’ backpack, still on the floor by the front door next to their shoes, and approached it, the vibration clearer and louder.

He hesitated for a second, but squatted down, and unzipped the front-most pocket of the bag, revealing Dennis’ vibrating phone. He picked it up, and Trinity Santos’ ID was on the screen, a picture of her flipping the camera off set as her contact photo. Abbot frowned, and hesitated, but swiped to answer the call, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Dennis, where the fuck are you?” Trinity’s voice came through, groggy but clearly concerned, “Life360 says you’re in Squirrel Hill North. What the hell’s going on?!”

Abbot cleared his throat. “Uh, hey Dr. Santos. This is Dr. Abbot, Dennis is at my house.”

The line was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We got held up by a shooting,” Abbot stood up straight, “I assume you know this, because you and Dennis live together, but he and I have been getting breakfast together recently.”

“Yeah, at like, Waffle House. Why is he at your home?”

“The shooting was tiring, and we didn’t end up leaving the ED until 7:40.” Abbot walked down the hallway towards his bedroom. “Dennis was pretty put out, and I think kind of distressed, and, uh,” Abbot huffed a laugh, “he insisted pancakes over waffles, so.”

“And you couldn’t have gone to an IHOP?”

“He didn’t seem in the mood to go out anywhere. So, I brought him here, made him pancakes, and now he’s sleeping in my guest bedroom. He’s safe and well, Dr. Santos, just exhausted and currently asleep.”

The line went quiet again, and Trinity made a noise before speaking. “You realize how crazy this sounds, right?”

Abbot bit his lip, and stopped outside his bedroom door, looking at the closed guest bedroom door. “Yeah.”

“But he’s safe.” Trinity gauged, suspicion colored clearly in her tone.

“Very safe. He’s sleeping right now.”

“... Okay. When will he be back?”

“I figure he’ll wake up around 5:00 or 6:00,” Abbot answered, “I’ll take him back the second he’s up. I’ll plug in his phone, too.”

“Alright. Okay. Then– okay. Bye, Dr. Abbot.”

“Bye, Dr. Santos.”

The phone call ended, and Abbot looked at Dennis’ door again, considering entering and plugging in the phone there. He hesitated, and instead entered his own bedroom, grabbing an extra cord from his bedside table to plug Dennis’ phone in next to his own. Abbot disconnected his prosthetic, slipped off the compression sleeve, and shimmied out of his clothes, left in only his boxers. He tucked himself into bed, his heart thudding in his ears.

~:~

When Dennis woke up, it was with a unique intensity of confusion mixed with a complete lack of care to do anything about it, because he was the most comfortable he’d ever been in his entire twenty-six years of living. 

He was warm, the perfect kind of warm where you aren’t sweaty, just snuggled. The air outside the blanket was cold, but not icy, lulling him back to his slumber like the tenderest kiss. Light shone in the room, but it was blocked out by deep, brown-orange curtains, casting the bedroom in a hazy, muted sunset swath. Dennis sighed, reveling in his restedness, before his eyes shot open and he realized he was in Dr. Abbot’s house and Trinity had definitely checked his location and was definitely, super absolutely, pissed at him right now.

Dennis sat up with a start, and glanced to the side table, cursing when he remembered that his phone was definitely still in his work bag, and probably super dead.

“Oh, fuck,” Dennis murmured, and slid out of his bed, shimmying into his scrubs and grimacing at the uncleanness they held from a day at work. He tugged on his undershirt, which was at least not as dirty as his scrub top, and quietly opened the bedroom door, peeking out into the hallway. The house was quiet, and Dennis slipped out into the corridor, taking a left around the corner, finding himself in the foyer. He glanced out to the living room, which was still and silent, and went to his bag.

He paused. The front pocket of his backpack was open, and his phone wasn’t in there.

Dennis dug through the other pockets. No phone.

“Are you looking for your phone?” Abbot asked, and Dennis yelped, standing and turning around to face the older man in one jerked move, exhaling sharply and clutching his chest, heart thundering in his ears.

“Oh my god,” Dennis wheezed, keeling over a little bit. “Holy fuck.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Abbot laughed, not unkindly, “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to scare you. Your phone is charging in my room, if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Dennis inhaled and exhaled slowly, “Jesus. Phew.”

Abbot’s eyes scanned over Dennis, and his eyebrows quirked inward. “Do you wanna shower before I take you home? And you can borrow some clothes, too, I bet those are sorta gross.”

Dennis calmed down a little more, and his eyes narrowed just a little at Abbot. “I mean, I can shower at home, it’s no biggie.”

“You can,” Abbot nodded, “or you could shower here and go home clean, not worry about adding to your water bill.”

Dennis exhaled a shy laugh, “but I’d be adding to your water bill, Dr. Abbot.”

“It’s Jack,” the man leaned forward, just a little, as he said it. “And this house is paid off. My bills are, like, maybe three hundred bucks a month. I don’t mind if you shower here.”

“I can’t take your clothes, though,” Dennis insisted, and Abbot shrugged. 

“Sure you can. I’ve got plenty. And you can give them back when we work tomorrow.”

Dennis blinked. Abbot waited patiently, face and posture relaxed. Maybe Dennis was being the weird one for hesitating on this.

“I’m gonna text Trinity,” Dennis conceded, “then I’ll shower.”

“Cool,” Abbot nodded, “I’ll grab your phone, just a sec.”

Dennis followed Abbot down the hallway, his backpack in hand, pausing in the doorway as Abbot entered his own bedroom. He peered inside, curious, and appraised the cream-white walls and forest-green accents, as well as the man’s deep brown comforter. Abbot went to his nightstand, and unplugged Dennis’ phone, walking back and handing it over with ease. 

“There are already towels in there,” Abbot gestured to the guest bathroom, “so, take your time. I’m gonna go hang out in the living room, but whenever you need to get clothes, just take whatever you want from my closet.”

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t wanna get in your personal space, Dr. A– Jack.”

“I’m inviting you,” Abbot disputed, smiling easily, still completely relaxed. “I got nothing to hide, kid. Have a good shower, and yell if you need anything, okay?” Abbot walked off, and Dennis stood frozen in the hallway. 

The shower was sort of glorious. Maybe even a little divine. Dennis ran the water hot, and used the fancy shampoo and conditioner that Abbot had, washing his body with a loofa. He’d texted Trinity before he’d hopped in, and had flushed at the texts she’d sent while he was asleep.

Trin Santos - 8:55 am

I called u and dr abbot answered by the way. WTF!!!

Trin Santos - 9:00 am

Anywho… sleeping at his house is freaky asf. We need to have another discussion about this man’s intentions with you cause I’m not really believing that he’s just being friendly at this point

Trin Santos - 9:01 am

I’m telling you rn dennis. Huckleberry. Whicker basket. He was possessive over the phone. I said that the whole situation sounded crazy and he just said “yeah”. YEAH?? YEAG??? 

Trin Santos - 9:04 am

Something freaky is going on… freakayyyy 

Trin Santos - 3:57 pm

Pls text me back when you’re up

He’d texted her back before hopping into the shower, savoring the perfect pressure, unlike his shower at his and Trinity’s apartment.

Dennis - 5:19 pm

Hi yes I’m alive sorry

Dennis - 5:20 pm

Trin I really think he’s just being nice!! It was just food and a place to crash. I’m showering here before he takes me home, so, expect me maybe around 6:30 or 7:00

Dennis got out of the shower at nearly 5:50, skin pinked and flushed all over. His KT-tape was threatening to peel off, fraying at the edges and in desperate need of replacement. He didn’t remove it, though, drying off the exposed skin and pressing the tape back down the best he could. He dried himself off otherwise, scrunching his clean hair with a towel, and then wrapped an unused one around himself, careful to cover his chest. He opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out into the hallway, and peaked around. He could hear the TV playing in the living room, some sort of sports tournament, and hesitated before entering Abbot’s bedroom, which was thankfully empty. He grabbed his backpack, which he’d left outside of the bathroom, and brought it in with him.

He pushed open the doors that he assumed was Abbot’s closet, and entered further at the sight of all the clothes. He closed the doors behind him, and dropped his bag and towel to the floor. In his bag, he pulled out his extra pair of socks and underwear, having neglected to pack an additional pair of scrubs before his shift yesterday. He slipped on the fresh boxer briefs, but hesitated at the compression socks. He’d hate to deal with wrestling them on, considering he’d be home within the hour.

Dennis’ eyes wandered to a small shelf, underneath an array of hung-up sweatshirts. Inside the shelf, underwear and socks were rolled up and organized neatly. Dennis hesitated, and grabbed a pair of plain black socks from the shelf, slipping them on. He considered the rest of Abbot’s closet, and opted for a pair of deep blue sweatpants. He rolled up the cuffs of the pant legs twice, as they were a little long on him, and picked out one of Abbot’s many sweaters. He chose a simple, oversized black crewneck, the letters PTMC spelled across the front in a deep, orange-yellow.

He dropped his towel into the laundry basket in Abbot’s closet, and quickly departed once he was dressed, entering the guest bedroom to shove his remaining belongings in his bag. He remade the bed before he left, refluffing the pillows and tucking the comforter back where it belonged, and then exited the room, closing the door fully behind him.

He felt nervous, standing in the hallway, his bag over his shoulder, as he heard the TV play in the living room. Maybe he picked the wrong clothing. Maybe Abbot would’ve actually preferred he change back into his dirty scrubs. Maybe Dennis was weird for borrowing Abbot’s socks.

Dennis leaned around the corner, and peered into the living room, where Abbot was sitting on his dark leather couch, on his phone. Dennis cleared his nerves, blinking firmly, and stepped out into the foyer, walking over to the living room. Abbot glanced up, and his eyes quickly scanned Dennis’ frame, before nodding.

“You look good, kid,” Abbot stood, grunting softly. “You ready for me to take you home?”

Dennis nodded, “yeah, I just gotta put my shoes on.”

“Me too,” Abbot affirmed, and rounded the couch, giving Dennis a brief pat on the shoulder as he passed. Dennis followed behind, and they both took a moment to get their shoes on. Abbot slipped into a jacket that was hung up by the door, a Carhartt-type workwear one, and they walked outside. 

The September air was cool in a refreshing way, and Dennis breathed it in as a gust rattled through the pines and shrubs in Abbot’s yard. Abbot unlocked his truck, and Dennis piled into the passenger seat.

Halfway through the drive, Dennis glanced over to Abbot, who was focused on the road, though his fingers drummed on the steering wheel along to the music.

“Um,” Dennis cleared his throat, “thanks for, uh, everything.”

“Yeah,” Abbot answered easily, “of course.”

“I mean, you just didn’t have to do any of that,” Dennis added, “like, making me food and letting me sleep over. I just- I appreciate it.”

“Like I said,” Abbot nodded, and reached across the dash to playfully poke Dennis’ thigh, “of course. I don’t mind doing that kinda stuff for you, kid.”

“Would you do it for someone else?” Dennis couldn’t resist asking.

Abbot’s poking-hand fell flat, palm-down to Dennis’ thigh. The younger man froze, stomach coiling tight as Abbot’s thumb gently pet Dennis’ thigh, rubbing along the fabric of the borrowed-sweatpants.

“Maybe,” Abbot shrugged, “I’d definitely do it for Robby. But I’m not really driving any other residents too and from their shifts, am I?”

Dennis weakly shook his head. The touch burned, a hotline straight to his heart. “I guess not, no.”

“Yeah,” Abbot hummed, “guess not. Must make you a little special then, to get rides, and breakfast, and pancakes. Right?” Abbot exhaled a laugh, casual, relaxed.

Dennis felt his face grow hot. “Maybe,” he squeaked.

“Maybe,” Abbot echoed, and patted Dennis’ leg, retracting his hand back to his side of the vehicle.

Dennis was quiet the rest of the ride home.

~:~

Dennis anticipated that the thing at Abbot’s house would only happen once. Maybe, if more similarly-extenuating circumstances occurred, a few more times. 

Except it kept happening. Frequently.

When Dennis came home that first time, wearing Abbot’s sweats and PTMC crewneck, Trinity had practically tackled him in the doorway.

“Whose clothes are these?” she gasped, and Dennis squeaked as she dragged him into the light of the kitchen. “Oh my god. Are you wearing Abbot’s stuff? Did you two fuck?!”

Dennis had burned up, pushing her away and insisting, No, absolutely not, nothing like that happened, Trin, oh my god. I just didn’t have a change of clothes, so he let me borrow his, while she turned him in circles and grabbed his head, craning his neck like she was checking for hickeys.

“This is insanity,” she stepped back to look at him, finally done with her assault. “We need wine. And Pride and Prejudice. We have to talk about this.”

Even though Trinity had to get up at 5:00, she stayed up with him until 11:00 at night. She set her empty wine glass on the side table, and rubbed at her face while Dennis stared at her, the inside of his cheek raw from him biting at it.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” she exhaled slowly, gathering her thoughts. “He specifically posed you as being special for how he treats you, and you think that’s not flirting?”

“I don’t know!” Dennis shrugged, voice pitching up. 

“And he did that while gripping your thigh? Huck, you’ve to be fucking kidding me.”

“God, I just,” Dennis covered his eyes with his hands, shutting them tightly. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t get why he’d even want me, Trin, and that’s in the hypothetical situation that he even does.”

“I feel like he definitely does,” Trinity deadpanned, “like, if this was happening with anyone else, Huck—legitimately, any other person on Earth—you would’ve asked them out by now!”

“But it’s not anyone else!” Dennis smacked his hands down on the blanket, eyes wide, feeling a little frantic. “It’s Dr. Abbot, my attending! If this– if we actually did something, if on the absurd, absolutely off-chance he does have feelings for me, then someone would end up getting fired. Probably me.”

Trinity frowned. “But would you date him, if you had the chance?”

Dennis paused, and shook his head. “That’s not even an option. That's- it’s just not.”

Trinity glanced down at her lap, and a small smile spread across her face. “It sort of sounds like you already are.”

“Don’t say that,” Dennis sighed. Trinity’s smile fell, and Dennis continued. “I don’t– let’s just be done with this for now. It’s probably not even gonna happen again. You need to go to bed.”

Trinity bit her lip, but, after a beat passed, nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow at shift change, okay?”

“Okay,” Dennis agreed, and Trinity walked off to her room.

And then it kept happening.

The second time Dennis went to Abbot’s house after a hard shift, Abbot made Dennis eggs and toast. Dennis slept in Abbot’s guest bedroom, a charger having been placed in there for his phone, and woke up at 3:00 pm to his alarm. He discovered his scrubs had been laundered, showered in Abbot’s guest bathroom, and ate grilled chicken with asparagus in Abbot’s kitchen before getting driven back to work in Abbot’s truck for their shift.

The third time Dennis went to Abbot’s house, there was no post-shift food. Dennis slumped into Abbot’s living room and laid on his couch while the man messed around in the kitchen, and was gently shaken awake an unclear amount of time later. “You wanna sleep in a real bed, maybe?” Abbot asked, teasing and kind, and Dennis shook his head, burying his face further into one of Abbot’s throw pillows. Abbot didn’t fight him, and instead brought the comforter from his guest room, laying it on top of Dennis. Later that day, when Dennis woke up a little past 4:00, it was to Abbot sitting on the other end of the couch, some of his clothes folded on the coffee table. Dennis got up, took the clothes with him, and was driven home wearing Abbot’s sweats and crewneck again. Trinity gave him a look when he walked inside, but didn’t say anything else.

The sixth time Dennis went to Abbot’s house, it was with his face pinked, ruddy, and wet. He sat in the passenger seat of Abbot’s truck as they drove, his hand over his mouth as he hiccupped on silent tears. Abbot’s grip was gentle but firm on Dennis’ thigh, his thumb rubbing in slow, tentative circles.

Dennis refused to talk about it. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could. He’d written enough to file a report about it, but that was it. Abbot had asked, multiple times at this point, but Dennis refused to budge.

He’d had flirty patients before. Plenty, actually. He’d been asked for his number more times than he could count. On a few different occasions, patients had tried to touch his arms, or his sides, or try to pull him close. He’d always been able to wriggle or force himself away.

There was a patient in one of the curtain rooms in South 4. Those ones were for generally the patients who were less life-or-death, who didn’t require so much privacy. This patient, a man a little older than Dennis, was, quite frankly, incredibly handsome. 

Wade David Montgomery was a thirty-four year old man presenting with chest pain, general fatigue, and pain in his back. He was 6’4, weighed about 235 pounds, and had a strong, square jaw with a reddish-brown beard. His hair was short, but a little long on the top, wavy and dark brown, matching his nearly-black eyes. His eyes lit up when Dennis informed him that he’d be his doctor, and had a sly smirk on his face during the duration of their initial conversation.

Dennis could admit it to himself—he might’ve engaged a little bit with the flirting. Just a smidge. 

Wade was funny and serious, and his eyes tracked over Dennis’ body in a way that was sort of intoxicating.

“How old are you, anyway? You’re tiny.” He asked, voice gravelly but soft, reminding Dennis of someone he knew, but couldn’t place. 

Dennis felt himself flush as he typed in Wade’s symptoms. “I’m twenty-six, so, plenty old enough to be here. Can’t help that I’m short, though.”

“Just a few more inches and I’d be an entire foot taller than you,” Wade laughed, sonorous, rumbling Dennis’ insides. “Jeez, what are you, 5’6? 5’7?”

“5’7 and some change, yeah,” Dennis glanced over to him, and bit his lip to keep himself from smirking. “I’ve got you all charted. I’m gonna chat with my attending, and we’ll see how to proceed with this.”

He’d talked to Shen, who agreed on an EKG and further monitoring. When Dennis went back, alone, he tugged the curtain shut for some privacy, and sat down next to Wade’s gurney to prepare the EKG.

He’d been paying attention, really, he had. He’d just been a little caught off guard. Plus, who’s really expecting something like that? 

It had only been a second that Dennis turned his back, but Wade had grabbed him. One hand on his shoulder, the other curled around his neck, Dennis lost his breath, silent, as Wade jerked him over to the gurney. He’d made a noise, a grunt of pain as the stool went out from under him and his hips nailed the side of the gurney, hands scrambling desperately for purchase as he struggled to catch air, any air at all, while Wade yanked him up onto the bed with him.

“Fucking slut,” Wade had growned in Dennis’ ear, and Dennis kicked desperately, his foot clipping the charting machine, “I should fuck you right here, considering how you’re flaunting yourself.”

It took four people and an anaesthetic to get Dennis away from Wade. 

Dennis was checked on, afterwards, by Shen, as Abbot was dealing with the entry stages of the report. Dennis had mild tracheal damage, but nothing that would impede him. Shen warned Dennis of a potential headache later on.

Dennis filled out his part of the report soon after, and at 5:12 am, Abbot walked him out of the PTMC, having dismissed them both to go home. Night shift could handle themselves for the forty-ish minutes they had before day shift arrived.

And now they were on the way to Abbot’s. Dennis remembered to text Trinity when they were halfway there.

Dennis - 5:25 am

Patient assaulted me. I’m fine, but going home w abbot

Trinity - 5:25 am

????

Trinity - 5:25 am

Can you call?? Dude what??????

Dennis - 5:26 am

I’m physically fine trin i’m just really rattled. Abbot called me and him off work today so im gonna hang at his place for a while

Dennis set his phone to Do Not Disturb, and tucked it in his pocket. He inhaled a tight breath, cutting himself off with a small noise, and Abbot’s grip on his thigh tightened, grounding, purposeful. Dennis exhaled slowly, the sound stuttered.

When they got to Abbot’s house, the older man made quiet, wordless work of guiding Dennis out of the car. The younger man let it happen, stepped out of his shoes in the foyer, let Abbot relieve him of his backpack, and blinked through wet eyelashes when Abbot let him inside his room. Not the guest bedroom.

Abbot’s bathroom was attached to his bedroom, and inside, it was white tile floors with green walls, and a deep clawfooted bathtub next to the shower. He directed Dennis to sit on the counter, and Dennis did, his feet swinging lamely. Abbot grabbed a hand towel, and ran the sink water, holding his fingers under the stream until it reached a temperature he was happy with. He held the towel underneath it, soaking about half, before turning the water off.

The lump in Dennis’ throat grew bigger when Abbot began gently wiping at Dennis’ face. The towel was warm, the perfect kind of warm, gently brushing over his ruddy, tear-streaked cheeks, petting over his clumped eyelashes.

Dennis’ mouth wrenched itself into a pout as he inhaled a struggled breath, a tight cry escaping him. “Jack,” he bleated, the only word he’d said out loud in nearly an hour.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Abbot dropped the towel, and scooped Dennis into a hug. Dennis’ face tucked into Abbot’s shoulder, his hands weakly grasping at Abbot’s sides, and he sobbed. His breath hitched, hiccupping and choking on his own sounds, tears dampening Abbot’s shirt, and Dennis cried.

Abbot gently rocked them. He shifted forward, moving to stand between Dennis’ knees. One hand cupped the back of Dennis’ head, and the other held his shoulders, cradling him close, steadily rocking back and forth on his feet while Dennis let everything out.

“I’ve got you,” Abbot murmured, pressing a soft but searing kiss to Dennis’ temple. “I’ve always got you, kid. You know that.”

Dennis nodded, blubbering, coughing again as another rob racked through his body. “I’m suh-sorry,” Dennis heaved, his fingers tangling in Abbot’s shirt, stretching the fabric. Abbot held him closer, Dennis scooting closer to the edge of the counter, his chest against Abbot’s.

“Don’t be sorry,” Abbot crooned, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss to Dennis’ hair, “you don’t have to be sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry I wasn’t keeping an eye on you. I’m sorry this happened.”

A wail built in Dennis’ chest, and he keened, wrapping his arms around Abbot desperately. “No, no,” he coughed, “don’t- don’t,” Dennis hiccupped. Abbot gripped him close, rocking them gently.

“You’re okay,” Abbot whispered, “it’ll be okay. Take some deep breaths for me, baby. Can you do that?”

It felt like the breakroom, all those weeks ago, but it was different. Pressed tight to Abbot, when Dennis pressed his ear to the older man’s throats, he could hear Abbot’s heartbeat, hear the whistling of his breath as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, steadily, for Dennis to mirror. Dennis tried to match him, his hiccups and coughs still catching him, impeding him, but after a little while, was calmer, head still in Abbot’s shoulder. His hands had fallen loosely to his lap, but Abbot gently carded his fingers through Dennis’ hair, his other hand rubbing Dennis’ shoulder.

“You wanna go to bed?” Abbot murmured. Dennis nodded weakly.

“Okay,” Abbot affirmed softly, “let me finish wiping off your face and then we can get into pajamas.”

Dennis blearily departed his face from Abbot’s shoulder, exhaustion weighing him down, shoulders slumping. Abbot re-wet the rag, and gently cleaned Dennis’ face. Dennis let his eyes flutter shut as Abbot brushed though his eyelashes, and sniffled loudly, his nose stuffy. Abbot set the rag back down, and grabbed a tissue from a box sitting next to the sink that Dennis hadn’t noticed. 

“You want me to do it, or do you got it?” Abbot offered genuinely, holding up the tissue. Dennis blinked, but took the tissue, and blew his nose loudly. Abbot waited, and Dennis crumpled up the tissue, tossing it towards the wastebin. It made it inside with a soft noise.

“C’mon,” Abbot gently prodded Dennis’ hips. The younger man slid off the counter, his feet hitting the floor with a thump, and let Abbot guide him towards his closet. Dennis had been in here multiple times now, and he generally picked out the same things each time. Dennis hovered in the entryway of the closet while Abbot grabbed his black PTMC crewneck and a pair of grey sweats, and glanced over Dennis’ slouched form as he turned around with them in hand.

“I can help you change, if you want,” Abbot extended. Dennis shook his head, and held his hands out for the clothes.

“I got it,” Dennis swallowed, his throat sore from crying, and from earlier.

“Okay,” Abbot nodded, and handed over the clothes, walking past Dennis to close the closet doors, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Dennis exhaled slowly once he was alone in the closet. He shucked his clothing off, dropping it into Abbot’s laundry basket, thankful he wasn’t wearing a binder this time. He slid on Abbot’s clothes, the fabric softer and so much nicer than the scrubs and compression tee and compression socks. Dennis took a few deep breaths once he was done, and tugged open the closet doors, finding Abbot sitting on his bed, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up, and appraised Dennis’ outfit for a second, nodding as he stood.

“Sit on my bed for a second, kid,” Abbot pointed to the spot where he’d been, “I’m gonna change, too.”

Dennis hesitated, but took Abbot’s spot as the man entered his closet. Dennis waited, and pet his hands over Abbot’s deep, earthy brown comforter. It was soft. Dennis smiled to himself. It reminded him of a baby duck’ down. A minute passed, and then Abbot exited, dressed in a new t-shirt and a pair of plaid sleep pants.

“Hey,” Dennis exhaled as Abbot approached, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Hi,” Abbot stopped in front of Dennis, and tucked his hands in his pockets. Silence passed for a moment, Dennis’ eyes trickling down to the floor. His chest was heavy, throat sore, and eyes puffy from crying. He was embarrassed. More than embarrassed. He wanted to ask Abbot to drive him home, and crawl into his bed alone, go to work later today and pretend none of it happened.

“What if you slept in my bed tonight?” Abbot suddenly asked, his voice gentle and tentative. Dennis’ eyes snapped up to Abbot’s face, wide and surprised.

“What?”

“Sleep in my bed tonight,” Abbot’s jaw flexed and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed firmly. “With me.”

“Are you,” Dennis coughed, his throat catching on itself, “what-?”

“I’m not coming onto you,” Abbot affirmed, his voice still stern, still so genuine. “I think you’re in a little bit of shock. I think you’ll have a nightmare. I’d prefer you be in here, with me, rather than alone in the guest bedroom.”

Dennis blinked at him. He felt his cheeks grow pink, and hoped the color would be mistaken for his otherwise post-cry ruddiness.

“Um,” he hesitated.

“Don’t feel pressured to,” Abbot added, “if you’re uncomfortable. This is just what I think is best.”

Abbot’s bed was warm. The sheets were soft and clean, significantly nicer than Dennis’ Walmart brand fitted sheet and duvet. Dennis was on the left side of the bed, curled up to keep to himself, even though the mattress was at least a king size. Dennis usually slept pretty spread out, starfishing across his bed or ending up entirely diagonal. Here, he kept close to himself, buried into Abbot’s cushy pillows, eyelids closed, the lead weight in his chest steadily sinking him further and further into the bed.

He heard Abbot rustle around on his side. The man had clicked out of his prosthetic when they’d retired to bed, after having Dennis take ibuprofen and drink a glass of water. Dennis was exhausted, but not quite asleep.

Sometimes, his brain would give him a wonderful sort of hallucination. It would feel, in a way so close to dizzying, like Dennis was on a boat. Despite laying still, the world would rock itself side to side, and his weight would shift inside of him with the movements. He felt as though he was on the edge of that precipice.

Abbot shifted closer, the mattress dipping behind Dennis.

Abbot’s pillow was dense with scent. Dennis’ nose was entrenched in it. At work, everyone smelled like antiseptic. Dennis never really got physically close enough to get a whiff of his coworkers, not that he cared to, anyway. Trinity religiously used cashmere as her scent. She had cashmere body wash, cashmere lotion, cashmere perfumes and hand sanitizers. Dennis used cheap Suave shampoo and conditioner, cheaper Great Value deodorant, and prayed to god he didn’t smell bad.

Abbot smelled like rain. Heavy, stony, forested rain. Rain on grass, dewy and earthy, with that metallic twinge of sweat laden in the threads of the pillow. Dennis inhaled slowly, trying to even his breathing out and let the boat rock him to sleep.

The mattress dipped further, and Dennis flinched, just a little, at the feeling of Abbot’s hand brushing over his hip.

“Sorry,” the older man whispered. “Are you sleeping yet?”

Dennis hesitated. He could do nothing. He could keep breathing steadily, and Abbot would probably back away to his side of the bed.

The pillow rustled as Dennis shook his head. Abbot exhaled softly.

“Would it help if I held you?”

Dennis’ stomach lurched. 

He hadn’t been held in… He frowned, thinking about it. He wasn’t sure how long it had been.

He could feel Abbot behind him. The man radiated heat, the warmth exhuming off of him like a radiator.

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek. He nodded.

Abbot didn’t speak, and instead laid down behind Dennis. His arm, heavy, hot, muscled, gently laid over Dennis’ midsection. He leaned in, his chest to Dennis’ back, molten through their clothes, and murmured in Dennis’ ear, sending shivers down the younger man’s spine.

“You should come closer to the middle of the bed,” Abbot cooed.

They moved to the middle of the bed. Abbot slithered his arm beneath their pillows, and Dennis’ head was now cushioned by both the pillow and Abbot’s bicep. The man’s hand, laid gently across his stomach, didn’t wander, or touch. It simply sat there, holding Dennis close.

“Thank you,” Dennis exhaled after a few minutes of lying there. He was back on the precipice, the gentle rock of a far away boat tempting his senses.

“Always,” Abbot murmured, and Dennis shivered.

~:~

They didn’t talk about it when they woke up. Dennis woke up alone, and found his scrubs laundered folded, sitting at the end of the bed, next to a fresh sweatshirt and sweatpants. He showered in Abbot’s guest bathroom, changed into the sweats Abbot set out, and met the older man in the kitchen. He was plied with bacon, eggs, and coffee. Abbot sat with him while they ate their 6:00 pm breakfast in relative silence, and at 6:30, they piled into Abbot’s truck to take Dennis home.

“When do you work next?” Abbot asked. Glass Animals was playing on the stereo, one of Dennis’ picks. 

Dennis shook his head. “I have the next two days off, not including today.” His voice was scratchy, eyes still puffy.

“I think the schedule comes out today,” Abbot remarked. “You’ll have to see if you’re on night shift for October.”

Dennis frowned curiously, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked over to the Gmail app. “Schedule’s out,” he murmured, and opened the email. He smiled softly, and put his phone away.

“What’d ya get?” Abbot asked. There was an undercurrent to his voice, something that sounded a little bit like worry.

“Night shift,” Dennis hummed. Abbot exhaled.

“Cool, very cool,” Abbot nodded. “You should queue up some Red Hot Chili Peppers. I have ‘Zephyr’ stuck in my head.”

Dennis took Abbot’s phone from the center console, typing in the older man’s password, which he’d had memorized for a while. He started playing the song, and set Abbot’s phone back down, grabbing his own when it vibrated in his pocket. Dennis blinked, as it was a text from Robby.

Dr Robby - 6:41 pm

[Image attached]
Just crossed the state line into New Mexico. When I come back, it’ll be with a serious tan haha

Dennis smiled at the message, missing how Abbot glanced over. The picture was an image of the New Mexico state sign.

Dennis - 6:41 pm

Omg so cool!!

Dennis - 6:42 pm

Total farmers tan. I used to get those really bad at home lol

Dr Robby - 6:42 pm

I bet. My tan was already pretty serious from going through California

“Who’re you talking to?” Abbot asked, voice casual. 

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek as he typed a response. “Dr. Robby. He just entered New Mexico.”

“Is he texting while he’s riding?” Abbot’s voice hardened. Dennis blinked, pausing his typing, as Abbot clicked out of the stereo to his contacts on the truck screen, pressing a contact that just said “Michael”. The car began to ring, and Dennis tentatively put his phone away, back into his pocket. 

Michael picked up the phone, and Dr. Robby’s voice came through. 

“Hey, brother, what’s up?”

“Are you texting Dennis while you’re driving that thing?”

“What? No, I’m pulled over at the state sign. Wait- how do you know I’m talking to Dennis?

“He’s in the car,” Abbot sighed, “but that’s irrelevant. Be safe, man. And text me more often. Are you wearing the helmet I got you?”

“Why is Dennis in your car?” Dr. Robby’s voice thickened with confusion, ignoring Abbot’s other questions. Dennis felt his face prick with heat.

“He’s on night shift, dude, I give him rides sometimes. Are you using that helmet?”

“I thought he took the bus?”

“He did,” Abbot rolled his eyes, “can you stop ignoring the question? Are you being fuckin’ safe out there?”

“Yeah, god, I’m being safe,” Dr. Robby huffed, “my helmet's off right now ‘cause I’m pulled over and taking a breather, but yes, I’m using it. How long have you been giving Dennis rides?”

Dennis slumped in his seat, mouth curling into a flat frown.

“I dunno,” Abbot sputtered, oddly defensive as they rolled to a stop at a red light, “like a month, maybe. It’s safer than the bus, and way safer than your bike, dude. “

Dr. Robby huffed a laugh, the tone a little sharp. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get back on the road, okay? I’ll talk to you later, man. You too, Dennis.”

“Bye,” Dennis blurted from his seat, and Abbot looked over to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Later,” Abbot punched the end-call button. Silence settled for a moment before the music kicked back on, Zephyr unsettling in the strangely tense energy of the truck.

“Jesus,” Abbot huffed, and rubbed at his eyes, exhaling a sharp breath. His hand quickly moved across the console, down to the familiar spot of Dennis’ thigh. Dennis anticipated it, the touch, but not the force that Abbot squeezed his leg, his fingers kneading Dennis’ muscles. Dennis squeaked, the touch firm but not painful, eyes widening when Abbot adjusted in his seat, his hand sliding further up Dennis’ thigh.

Dennis’ legs may have parted a little more to accept the intrusion. 

“Something unfortunate with caring about people,” Abbot grit, squeezing Dennis’ thigh firmly, his pinky finger practically in Dennis’ crotch, pressing the heel of his palm down before removing the tension, grip still firm. “Is that you get pissed at ‘em way faster.” Abbot exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening and loosening. 

Dennis’ heart thudded like the deep beat of a timpani.

“Yeah,” Dennis agreed, voice small.

Abbot’s fingers flexed out, and the man dragged the heel of his palm down Dennis’ thigh, before jumping back to the top and doing it again. Spikes of static and sharpness bolted up and down Dennis’ spine, and his hips flexed forward, slouching him in the seat, putty to Abbot’s touch.

“I’m just so worried about him,” Abbot continued, eyes on the road. “He’s called me maybe four times since he left. And, kid, I give him his space, yeah? I just wished he’d actually check in more.”

“He texts me every night,” Dennis swallowed his whimper, a jolt rattling his back when Abbot squeezed his knee. “Just tells me that he’s alive, and where he is.”

“What a fuckin’ joke,” Abbot laughed meanly, and glanced over to Dennis. His eyes widened, and he quickly released Dennis’ leg, jerking his arm away. “Shit, sorry. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Dennis’ knees knocked back together, a hazy cloud, something far off and fuzzy, curling around the edges of his brain. Deeper within him, in the crux of his stomach, a low, tentative fire burned.“It’s okay.”

“I’m still sorry,” Abbot affirmed, voice gentle, the hard edge dropped away. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Dennis shook his head a little blearily. His thigh muscles clenched. Magma pooled inside of him. He bit the inside of his cheek. “No.”

“Okay,” Abbot breathed, “cool.”

Dennis’ face was a little pink. He hoped it looked like exertion. He hoped it came off as embarrassment, from the phone call. He hoped it seemed like anything else besides the horrible, awful, evil ache in between his legs.

When Abbot dropped him off, they sat in the parking lot for a moment. “Life Goes On” by the Sundays spilled out of the radio in quiet bursts. Dennis’ throat was sore, his eyes hurt, and his leg ached. 

He glanced over to Abbot, who was already looking at him.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Dennis asked.

“I do,” Abbot nodded.

Dennis hummed, and looked out of the windshield, his apartment complex only twenty feet away. “I think I’ll go to Robby’s, tomorrow. Check on his plants and stuff.”

“I could drive you,” Abbot offered. “Pick you up at 5:00.”

Dennis bit his lip. “You don’t have to. I can take the bus.”

“Let me,” Abbot’s voice dipped into something softer. “Please.”

The fire in Dennis’ core roared. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he conceded. “I’m gonna have to take the bus home, though.”

Abbot laughed, “I can cope with that.”

“Cool,” Dennis huffed a small laugh, and his eyes jumped to meet Abbot’s.

“Thank you,” Dennis grabbed the car door handle, “um. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Abbot murmured, his voice sounding a little bit like reassurance.

Dennis exited Abbot’s truck, and hurried into his apartment, where Trinity waited for him.

“Hey,” she whispered, standing from her stool at the kitchen island. Dennis kicked his shoes off, dropping his bag by the door, and slid into Trinity’s open arms.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing.
“I’m okay,” Dennis exhaled, his face turning towards her hair, inhaling her cashmere scent he knew so well. “It’s over. I’ll be okay.”

~:~

October came with its own challenges. Robby was travelling back North, up into the Rockies. He intended to see Yellowstone.

Dennis slept at Abbot’s house more than he slept at his own apartment.

And it was rarely in Abbot’s guest bedroom.

They’d go to Abbot’s home. Dennis began to know it well. He’d help Abbot in the kitchen, their hips bumping together and hands crossing over to reach into drawers and adjust the heat of the burner. They’d eat at the island, or in the living room, or sometimes standing at the counter, shovelling food in their mouths after a long, exhausting shift. Abbot would put their dishes in the sink, and sometimes they’d wash them, sometimes they’d leave them. No matter what, Abbot’s hand would eventually sneak around to Dennis’ waist, and he’d lead them to Abbot’s room, where they’d sleep.

Dennis still showered in the guest bathroom, but he changed in Abbot’s closet. During the first week of October, Abbot entered the closet after a quick rap against the door, and Dennis froze, his scrubs off and crumpled to the floor, wearing only one compression sock, his boxers, and his binder. Abbot froze, his mouth a little agape, and he blinked, shaking his head slightly before slamming the door.

“Sorry,” Abbot spoke just loud enough to be heard, “just wanted to say that Trinity called you. So, uh, yeah.”

“Okay,” Dennis said back, though unsure he was audible. He hesitated there, for a moment, nose burning with the threat of tears, and slowly got dressed in Abbot’s clothes.

When he slowly exited the closet, Abbot was sitting on the bed, dressed down in boxers and a t-shirt. He still had his prosthetic on, and his eyebrows furrowed at Dennis. 

Dennis briefly worried he’d be told to go back to the guest bedroom, though he didn’t think about why worry was what he was feeling.

“Are you sleeping in your binder?” Abbot had asked instead of sending him away.

Dennis blinked. “Um, I figured I would.”

“Have you done that before?”

“A couple times, yeah.”

“At home, or just here?”

“... just here.”

“You don’t gotta do that,” Abbot breathed, and his eyes were wide, earnest, his head shaking side to side just a little. “That’s not good for your ribs, kid.”

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. He nodded, “okay.” He swallowed the saliva-blood that had pooled under his tongue. “I’ll take it off.”

Dennis went back into the closet. He took off Abbot’s sweatshirt, and wrestled his binder off, tossing it into the laundry basket. The sweatshirt went back on, the fabric thick and warm, and he pushed out of the closet. Abbot watched him, eyes curious.

“It’s in the laundry basket,” Dennis offered lamely.

“Cool,” Abbot nodded. “Ready for bed?”

They’d start on opposite sides of the bed. Dennis was always on the left, closer to the door. Abbot always started flat on his back, one hand under his pillow and the other over his stomach. He snored a little when he slept like that, but always, no matter what, Abbot would manage to cross the expanse of the mattress, right behind Dennis.

Pressed against Dennis, really. Abbot’s arm would curl around Dennis’ stomach and tug him close, chest-to-back, pelvis-to-pelvis. Abbot was like a space heater, their skin gradually melding together throughout the night. Dennis fell asleep each night to Abbot’s breath gently whistling past his ear, and the hottest, heaviest seatbelt slung over his waist.

Dennis opted out of pants after the seventh time they shared a bed. Then, he borrowed one of Abbot’s t-shirts instead of a crewneck. Abbot stopped wearing a shirt entirely.

Abbot always woke up first. Dennis standardly would awake alone, the other side of the bed cold. Sometimes, Dennis would jolt awake to his alarm going off, and Abbot would grunt as he rolled over, disconnecting them, “ugh, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get outta bed.”

They didn’t talk about it.

Dennis didn’t tell Trinity about it. He didn’t tell anyone. He wasn’t sure how. 

He slept at Abbot’s the days they worked, or the days leading into the days they didn’t. On his off days, he’d take the bus—or be driven by Abbot—to check on Robby’s house. He’d sleep at his apartment, sometimes, but his sections of the cabinets were mostly bare, and Trinity had texted him that his milk had expired, and she’d poured it out. Dennis didn’t mind. He’d eat at Abbot’s.

~:~

One week was left before Robby was due to return. Dennis took the bus to his house, said hello to the Ring camera, and spent three hours cleaning everything. He washed Robby’s sheets, dusted Robby’s shelves, wiped down Robby’s gym equipment and made sure the computer in his home office was still doing well. He cleaned the inside of Robby’s fridge and scrubbed down the stovetop, and told all of Robby’s plants about the patients he’d treated recently while he watered them. He turned on the AC and spent a little money for plug-in air fresheners, scattering them around Robby’s brownstone. 

He walked a good amount of the way home, the late October breeze surprisingly warm. The trees of Pittsburgh had red-yellow-oranged all over, and Dennis stepped on leaves on the sidewalk, grinning when they crunched beneath his foot. He left his earbuds in his pocket, listening instead to the sounds of people, buses, and cars. At 5:00, the sun was already working on dipping in the sky, casting a gauzy glow across the grand blue. Trinity was at work, though he imagined she’d be off soon. He could’ve waited at Robby’s for her to come grab her. He could’ve waited until it was closer to 5:00 for Abbot to drive him over, though he wasn’t positive the man worked tonight.

Dennis grinned to himself, and inhaled the smell of pastries and coffee as he strolled past a bakery.

Things had been good, that past month. His circadian rhythm had finally started fully agreeing with night shift. He’d been working good shifts, with only the normal amount of horrible things, and not the bad amount. He’d gained weight, having checked himself on Trinity’s scale, pumping his fist when he’d made it over 135. His hair had grown, and Trinity had helped him shape it, his curls longer on top, though with the same framing pieces of the mullet curling around his neck. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dennis paused, stepping to the side to get out of the way of those on the sidewalk, and fished it out of his pocket.

He blinked at the contact, and swiped to answer the call on his screen.

“Hey, Whitaker. How are you doing?”

“Hi, Dr. Robby. I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m pretty good. Currently in, er, Bartlett, Tennessee, I’m at a rest stop. I, uh, I think I might actually be home a little early. Maybe the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow,” Dennis nodded, even though Robby couldn’t see. “I just left your house, um, I sort of gave it a big cleaning so, it’s all ready for whenever you’re back.”

“Yeah, I got the notification from the Ring camera. You’ve got a very sweet smile, Dennis.”

Dennis laughed. “Um, thanks, Dr. Robby.”

“I mean it. Checking those notifications has been one of the many highlights of my travels. I really appreciate you taking care of my house for me.”

“Of course, yeah,” Dennis rocked on his heels, “anytime.”

“Thank you,” Robby said it with depth, maybe something deeper than Dennis could process over the phone. “Off topic, though, could I ask you something sort of weird?”

“Sure,” Dennis affirmed.

“Has Abbot been, like, driving you places?”

Dennis paused. His eyes skated over the road, catching onto a light blue Hyundai Elantra, like his oldest brother Silas used to drive.

“Dennis?”

His eyes snatched away from the car. “Um, I guess so, yeah.”

“Like, often? Or just every now and then?”

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek. “Often. Every shift, I guess.”

“That’s pretty often.”

“I dunno,” Dennis rocked forward onto his toes, before falling back flat. “He’s just being nice. And, I mean, he and I get along well, so it's not weird at all.”

“I mean, I assume it isn’t weird. I just– do you remember that phone call, from a while ago? In his truck?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Yeah. Jack just got, well, I don’t know. He was defensive. It was odd.”

Dennis scuffed his shoe against the ground. “I think he was just worried about you, Dr. Robby. There’s nothing–” Dennis’ breath hitched, and he cleared his throat, “there’s nothing, like, happening between Abbot and I. He just drives me to and from work.”

Silence simmered for a moment on the line. “I didn’t assume that there’s anything happening between you two.”

Dennis’ eyes widened sharply. “Um.”

“You can tell me if there is, Dennis. You should, if that’s the case.”

“No,” Dennis blurted, “I mean, not ‘no’ I won’t tell you, but no, like, ‘no’ there’s nothing happening. Sorry, I-” Dennis exhaled sharply, “sorry.”

“... It’s okay,” Robby gentled. “I’ve just been wondering about that since the call. Have you guys, like, hung out outside of work?”

Dennis’ tongue felt thick in his mouth. “We’ve gotten Waffle House a few times.”

“That’s nice,” Robby replied, a little plainly. “Well, I just wanted to call and say thanks, y’know, for everything. Would you be able to text me your Zelle? Or, Venmo? Whatever it is the kids are using these days.”

“Why do you need my Venmo?” Dennis’ eyebrows furrowed.

“To pay you?”

“I didn’t really do much, though.”

“You checked on my house once a week for three months, Dennis. I’m gonna pay you. I’m gonna get back on the road, but text me soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Dennis bit his lip. “Bye, Dr. Robby.”

“Bye, Dennis.”

The line clicked. Dennis pulled his phone away from his ear, frowning a little at his home screen. 

He hadn’t lied. Not necessarily.

Dennis shoved his phone back in his pocket, and continued his trek home. 

He got to the apartment, and fifteen minutes later, Trinity arrived herself, Garcia in tow. Dennis glanced up at them from his spot on the couch, a bowl of oatmeal in his lap, and Trinity shot him a wide-eyed, surprised look.

“Oh, hey,” she flushed pink. “I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

“Um,” Dennis looked down at his nearly empty bowl, “I can leave, if you want.”

“I mean, only if you want,” Trinity insisted, but she gave him a look that clearly expressed leave right now or god help both of us.

“Yeah, um,” Dennis shoveled the last bite into his mouth, and swallowed as he walked into the kitchen. “I actually think I might go to Abbot’s, so.”

“Perfect,” Trinity shot him a sharklike grin, and led an amused Garcia down the hall. Her door shut loudly behind her.

Dennis dug his phone out of his pocket, and hesitated before typing his password and clicking into his messaging app, opening Abbot’s contact. He bit his lip, and typed a message.

Dennis - 6:28 pm

Hey are you home? Cool if not I’m just curious

He set his phone on the counter, and turned to the sink. He made quick work of washing his dish, setting it to dry in the rack. His phone vibrated as he dried his hands on a dishtowel, and he picked it up.

Jack - 6:34 pm

Hey I’m home mowing the lawn

Jack - 6:34 pm

Everything ok?

Dennis - 6:35 pm

Could I come over?

Dennis’ phone screen lit up, a call from Abbot. His eyebrows furrowed, but he answered the call, bringing his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah?” Dennis laughed, “um, Trinity just has someone over, so, I’d rather not be here. Um, thin walls.”

“Oh,” Abbot exhaled, “jeez. I was worried. Give me like five minutes and I’ll head your way, okay?”

“I sort of want to get out of here now,” Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, “maybe I can start walking and you can pick me up somewhere?”
“Um,” Abbot paused, “sure. Share your location with me.”

Dennis ducked into his room to change, making quick work of packing an overnight bag, before tugging on his shoes and exiting the apartment before he could overhear any noises from Trinity's room. He shared his location with Abbot, and booted the older man’s address into his phone GPS, turning down the sidewalk out of his apartment complex. 

Less than ten minutes later, he received a text from Abbot.

Jack - 6:49 pm

Headed ur direction, will call when close

Dennis thumbed up the message, and continued his trek. In sharing his location, Abbot had shared his back, and Dennis watched on the screen, zoomed in on Abbot’s icon on the map, as the man drove through Pittsburgh.

Abbot picked him up on a street corner somewhere in between Middle Hill and Terrace Village. Dennis hoisted himself in Abbot’s car, flashing the sweaty, grass-speckled man a grin as he buckled in.

“You really were mowing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Abbot laughed as he drove the truck back onto the road, “but I was pretty much done when you texted. No biggie.”

Dennis scrolled on Instagram while they drove, Squirrel Hill North quickly coming into view. Abbot hummed along to the music, something by Chris Rainbow or the Alan Parsons Project—Dennis wasn’t paying attention. He considered telling Abbot about the call with Robby, but after rolling it around in his head for a while, he kept quiet. The words lingered behind his molars, and he tried to swallow them down.

A rock settled in Dennis’ stomach, and he glanced over to Abbot as they rolled into the familiar neighborhood where Abbot lived, his house coming into view.

Abbot excused himself to take a shower once they were inside, and Dennis stood in the foyer, feeling a little stagnant. He heard the pipes begin to run as the water was turned on, and hesitantly, he slipped his shoes off and wandered into Abbot’s living room. He plopped down on the couch, leaned up against the armrest, and picked up the remote, flipping the TV on. He scrolled through the apps Abbot had downloaded, which appeared to be most of them, and instead toggled over to the search bar, entering in something familiar he could zone out to.

Abbot walked out into the living room about fifteen minutes later, hair still damp but otherwise clean, and he’d changed out of his grass-stained clothes into a pair of loose, light grey sweatpants, and a black t-shirt. Dennis glanced over to him, but his attention jumped back onto the TV as the ballroom fell into silence, Mr. Darcy centered on the screen.

“Is this Pride and Prejudice?” Abbot asked curiously. 

Dennis nodded, wordless as he absorbed the scene. He patted the space on the couch next to him, though, and Abbot huffed a laugh before settling down to join him.

Abbot grunted as he sat down, and his arm slung over the back of the couch, parallel to Dennis’ shoulders. Dennis glanced over to Abbot, the warmth radiating off of the older man tempting against the cold leather of the couch. Dennis scooted closer, just slightly, and Abbot’s arm dropped against Dennis’ shoulders, easily tugging him close.

“My late wife loved this movie,” Abbot commented as Dennis leaned into his side. “Though I think she preferred the 90s series more.”

“I like both of them,” Dennis hummed, and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table. “But I think Matthew Macfadyen is a bit more handsome than Colin Firth.”

“2005 Darcy definitely is more brooding,” Abbot agreed, and exhaled a slow breath as he relaxed into the couch, his knees spreading wide. “What do you think of Kiera Knightley?”

“She’s pretty,” Dennis adjusted himself to be more comfortable, turning more towards Abbot’s side, “I think Mr. Bingley is pretty, too.”

“He has a feminine sort of beauty,” Abbot gently squeezed Dennis closer, and leaned down to press a quick kiss to the crown of Dennis’ head. “Sort of like you, yeah?”

Dennis blinked.

He blinked again.

Abbot had fully settled into the couch, his thumb gently petting smooth motions on Dennis’ shoulder. The movie played, and Mr. Darcy remarked that Elizabeth was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.

Dennis blinked a third time.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you kiss my head?”

The older man stilled beneath him, muscles tensing ever so slightly.

“I don’t know,” Abbot’s voice was faux-casual, an underlying tone that Dennis couldn’t place. “I won’t do it again, if you didn’t like it.”

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek. Abbot’s thumb had stopped moving.

Silence passed for a moment. Elizabeth said that the best way to get to know someone was dancing, even if one’s partner was barely tolerable.

“What are we doing?” Dennis asked softly.

Abbot exhaled slowly, measuredly. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I sleep here more than I sleep at my apartment,” Dennis’ voice dropped to a whisper. “In your bed. With you.”

Abbot said nothing.

“You- I wear your clothes. You throw my scrubs in with your laundry. You make me food.”

Abbot inhaled a stuttered breath.

“Robby called me today,” Dennis faltered for a second, “and I- I lied to him. I think I did. I feel like I did. I- I told him that nothing was happening between us.”

Abbot made a noise.

“I feel like…” Dennis’ skin inside his mouth split, “...something is happening. Between us.”

Dennis heard Abbot swallow. Neither of them moved. Dennis didn’t dare. His eyes focused on some middle distance between himself and the TV, heart thudding in his ears.

Abbot breathed out. “I-” he started, and stopped. 

Dennis waited.

Abbot cleared his throat. “I really like you.”

Dennis’ stomach ached.

“I’ve liked you for a while. I don’t-” Abbot’s voice wavered, “I don’t know if you feel the same, but you’ve been- I don’t know, going along with whatever this is.”

“Yeah,” Dennis agreed softly.

“Yeah,” Abbot’s voice was barely higher than a whisper.

Dennis inhaled and exhaled slowly, counting to five each time. He thought of Robby’s phone call. He thought of Trinity, all that time ago, teasing him about him and Abbot. He thought of all the things he hasn’t told anyone. 

He thought of those pancakes, the first time.

He thought of that perfectly warm rag, gently wiped across his face, and Abbot’s arms around him. Abbot had kissed him, then. That same spot on the crown of his head.

But they hadn’t talked about it.

Dennis turned a little closer towards Abbot. He hesitated, but his arm snuck across the older man’s torso, gently holding him. Dennis rubbed his cheek against Abbot’s pectoral, and the older man breathed in a sharp breath.

“I like you, too,” Dennis released. The words were hot, molten, and thick on his tongue. He swallowed harshly. “I like whatever this is.”

Abbot’s grip on Dennis’ shoulder tightened, squeezing him close. The older man made a noise, something soft and choked. “Me too,” Abbot affirmed, and relaxed his grip. Dennis stayed pressed to his side. “I like this, too.”

“Okay,” Dennis murmured.

“Okay,” Abbot echoed.

They finished Pride and Prejudice. Dennis was wired, overly awake, but he leaned against Abbot’s side with his eyes closed, hearing the man breathe in, and out, and in, and out. His arm stayed draped over Abbot’s torso, and Abbot’s arm stayed over Dennis’ shoulder, gently rubbing circles into Dennis’ skin through his shirt.

It was a little past 9:00 when the movie was over, the credits rolling, and Abbot shifted, just slightly, to grab the remote. Dennis blinked his eyes open, and sat up, detaching himself from Abbot. He grunted as he stretched his arms high above his head, his tape tugging a little at his ribs, but he didn’t fall back against Abbot when he relaxed again.

Abbot was already looking at him, his face impassive and calm. His eyes, though, were a little wide, waiting for Dennis to make the first move, seeing what he’d do.

Dennis bit the inside of his cheek.

“You wanna watch another movie?” Abbot gestured to the TV with the end of the remote.

Dennis blurted what he was thinking. What’d he’d been thinking. 

“Would one of us get fired if we publicly dated?”

Abbot’s eyebrows twitched inward. His jaw clenched, and he nodded slowly. Dennis looked to the side, and exhaled slowly.

“Do you want to date me? Is that even what this is?”

“Of course I’d date you,” Abbot sat up. His free hand twitched toward Dennis, but didn’t move any further. “I feel like- I thought that was sort of obvious, kid.”

“I don’t know,” Dennis sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t have the best idea of what these things look like. I haven’t– I mean, I just. I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t help that this doesn’t look like a normal relationship,” Abbot offered gently.

Dennis pulled his legs away from the coffee table, planting his feet on the ground. He leaned forward, his elbows against his thighs, and buried his face in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, his inhale hitching when Abbot gently set the flat of his palm between Dennis’ scapulae.

“I don’t,” Dennis blinked behind his hands, “I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to know, right now,” Abbot gentled, and began to rub his hand up and down Dennis’ back. “We can think about it.”

Dennis squeezed his eyes shut tight. Abbot continued his touches along Dennis’ back.

“Should I go home?” Dennis whispered after a beat passed.

Abbot’s hand stilled. “You don’t have to.”
“I don’t know,” Dennis’ voice lilted, his nose burning, and he inhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t know.”

“You can sleep in my guest bedroom,” Abbot scooted closer tentatively, his thigh against Dennis’ thigh, “and I can drive you home tomorrow. We can calm this down, if you want. You don’t have to come over here after shifts anymore. And, I mean, you might get day shift for November. This could all be behind us.”

“I don’t want day shift,” Dennis croaked, hating the tightness in his throat. “I- I like you, Jack. A lot. And I’ve- I’ve been telling myself that you’re just being really nice to me, that this doesn’t mean anything, but it- it does.” He sniffled, and swallowed the tears back down. “I just. We could both get in a lot of trouble, and I don’t want either of us to get fired if we- if this gets real.”

“Hey,” Abbot leaned in closer, and his arm wrapped around Dennis’ shoulders, tugging him close. “Can you come out of your hands, for a second? Could you look at me?”

Dennis hesitated, but dropped his hands to his lap, and made eye contact with Abbot.

“It’s against policy, but only when there’s abuse of authority,” Abbot’s eyes were sharp, his voice dropping into that same stern register when he’d direct Dennis somewhere at work. “And that’s only if they find out. And if we do this, and it doesn’t work out, then I will write you a stellar letter of recommendation for whatever other hospital you want to work at. I’ll never say a bad word about you, I’ll give you money to move, I’ll buy you a fucking car so you don’t have to get any rides from other old guys like me–”

Dennis surged forward, connecting his lips with Abbot’s. He leaned into Abbot’s space, and they fell into the couch, Abbot’s hands greedily tugging Dennis close, onto his lap, one grip on his back and the other on his thigh. 

“Fuck,” Abbot exhaled, and twisted his head to deepen the kiss, and it turned searing, Dennis’ hands were everywhere, on the couch, on Abbot’s shoulders, and the crux of his hips met Abbot’s as they melded together. Abbot adjusted them with one firm hoist, sitting up now against the back of the couch, Dennis’ knees dipping into the couch cushion on either side of Abbot. The older man’s hands eagerly slid down to Dennis’ ass, and dragged him forward, colliding them with a grunt.

Dennis whined into Abbot’s mouth, his hands tangling through the older man’s salt-and-pepper curls. He broke away to feast kisses down Abbot’s neck, panting at the shameless way Abbot groped him.

“You’d do that?” Dennis exhaled into Abbot’s ear.

“God, yeah, baby, I’d do anything,” Abbot groaned, “anything for my good boy, huh?”

Something shorted in Dennis’ spine. He made a noise in his throat, and firmly pressed his lips to Abbot’s again, flushing darkly when the older man laughed. Dennis squeaked when he felt the warmth of Abbot hardening beneath him as he ground them together again.

“Are you my good boy?” Abbot whispered, dragging a kiss along Dennis’ cheek. “You like me taking care of you?”

“Yeah,” Dennis nodded desperately, his voice tight in his chest as Abbot bit the edge of his jaw.

“Good listener, good student, good fuckin’ boy,” Abbot’s voice dropped to a near growl as he gripped Dennis’ ass harshly, and retracted his hand briefly to bring it back down. The smack rang loud in the living room, and Dennis head swirled, a keen escaping his throat, heat rising to far above boiling in his stomach.

“Yeah?” Abbot laughed at Dennis’ reaction, a little cruel, mostly pleased. “God, you’re perfect.”

He slipped their lips back together, and Dennis curled into him, skin stinging in a way he would’ve never imagined could’ve felt so good. Abbot’s hands relaxed, melting into something more exploratory, his calloused fingers sneaking beneath Dennis’ t-shirt.

“You really want this?” Abbot murmured in between a kiss.

“Please,” Dennis whispered back, and he meant it.

Abbot pulled away. His freckled cheeks were pink, just a little, eyes wide and serious and mouth open just a little as he caught his breath.

“I’m being serious,” Abbot affirmed. “I don’t want to pressure you, or make you feel like you owe me this–”

“I’m serious, too,” Dennis stated, trying to enforce as much meaning as possible into it. He blinked slowly, and bit his bottom lip, his eyes flickering to meet Abbot’s. He gently ground his hips down, and Abbot made a noise, his gaze heating. “You haven’t pressured me,” Dennis hesitated, and blushed, “But I’d like to make everything up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for,” Abbot murmured, but his eyebrow raised, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “How would you do that, though, if you had to?” He tilted his head to the side, playfully curious.

“I don’t know,” Dennis demurred shyly. He leaned in for another kiss, but Abbot gently dodged him. His hand slid out from under Dennis’ shirt, drifting lower to grope him.

“Tell me, baby,” Abbot’s voice grew thick, firm again. His gaze flickered between Dennis’ eyes and his mouth. “What does ‘making it up to me’ look like?”

Dennis swallowed. “I could,” his face burned, his core hot. “I could give you head.”

Abbot’s smile sharpened. “You could,” he nodded, “or you could let me give you head instead.”

Dennis’ face burst into flames. “But that’d- you’d be doing that for me.”

“I promise,” Abbot purred, and leaned in, stealing a quick kiss, and he murmured the next words against Dennis’ lips, “that would be purely self-serving.”

Dennis made a sound, and Abbot leaned further into the kiss, sweeping him up again with a hum.

“I haven’t,” Dennis spoke quickly in between a kiss, smiling when Abbot nipped at his lips, “I haven’t gotten any,” another kiss, “surgeries yet.”

“I don’t mind,” Abbot breathed into Dennis’ mouth, pressing quick pecks to the corners of his lips, “I’ll still suck your cock.”

Dennis whimpered. Abbot licked and nipped down Dennis’ neck, and wondered aloud. “How much does top surgery even cost these days?”

“Um,” Dennis blinked, “I think twelve thousand?” He inhaled sharply as Abbot tugged Dennis’ sleeve, revealing more of his neck, sucking harshly on the newly exposed skin. 

“I could pay for that,” Abbot murmured, licking along the mark he’d just made.

Dennis exhaled sharply, a slight edge of a scoff. “You couldn’t. Or, er, shouldn’t.”

“I could,” Abbot kissed his way back up Dennis’ neck, nipping at his pulse-point. “I make more than half of that in a week.”

“Oh,” Dennis breathed, hitching his hips slightly as Abbot pressed his hardening cock up against him. 

“I’d take such good care of you,” Abbot’s voice pitched into a moan, and he ground harder up into Dennis. The younger man whimpered, face hot and red, static striking up and down his spine as his hips met Abbot’s. “You could sleep in my bed, and I’d clean up your bandages.” Abbot bit at Dennis’ neck, soothing over the bite with his tongue. “Help you shower. Get you off while I clean you up, my sweet, sweet fuckin’ boy.”

“Jack,” Dennis flushed, biting the inside of his cheeks hard as magma burned his insides.

“You’re so smart,” Abbot tugged Dennis down to press a firm kiss to his lips, his other hand clasped firmly on Dennis’ ass. “So competent, so eager to please. Such a big kid who doesn’t need any help, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dennis nodded, the word barely more than a frail bleat as the desperation for friction began to ache properly between his legs.

“Such a good boy,” Abbot crooned, breath hitching as he pressed against Dennis just right, making the young man gasp. “You don’t even need to get taken care of, huh? You’ve got this all handled. Never even needed me to drive you to and from.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Dennis cried as Abbot began to grind against him in earnest, the pressure almost perfect, but not enough.

“You like it, though,” Abbot sloppily licked Dennis’ cheek, pressing a few quick kisses there, “you like this, all the things I love to do for you. My shower, my food, my bed. You deserve it, baby,” Abbot exhaled sharply, the sound melting into a moan. “You deserve everything and more.”

Dennis slammed their mouths together, hips twitching reactively, Abbot’s cock rock hard beneath him. Abbot’s arms wrapped tightly around Dennis’ waist, bringing them tightly together, bending Dennis’ spine. It hurt. It was wonderful.

“I deserve it?” Dennis breathed. 

“Fuck, yeah, baby, you deserve it all,” Abbot moaned into his mouth, “lemme eat you out, Dennis, please.”

“Oh my god,” Dennis whispered, his desperation pushed the words past his teeth before he could consider reigning them in. “Yeah. Yes, yes please.”

Abbot’s bedroom was familiar. Dennis had slept in it at least a dozen times, if not more. Now, though, Abbot pressed him against the mattress, Dennis’ legs spread open to accommodate Abbot in between them, Dennis’ hands tangled in Abbot’s hair as they kissed. The energy had calmed in pace, but not in intensity, and Abbot disconnected only to tug his shirt off in one swift move, pressing down to lock his lips with Dennis’ again. The younger man’s back arched off the bed, humming into the kiss.

One of Abbot’s hands slid down to gently tug at the waistband of Dennis’ pants, a loose pair of sweats he’d stolen from Abbot a week or two ago. Abbot relaxed his kisses, smacking a few sweet pecks to Dennis’ mouth, making the younger man laugh.

“You want me to suck your cock?” Abbot purred, voice heavy, the gentle gravel he always had firmer than Dennis had ever heard it.

“Please,” Dennis exhaled, and Abbot sat up. Dennis lifted his hips to help Abbot tug the sweatpants down, bending his legs to slide them totally off. They fell to the floor, and Abbot’s hands tentatively trailed along the hem of Dennis’ shirt, a Cocteau Twins band tee that Trinity had gotten him for his birthday.

“You wanna keep your shirt on?” Abbot questioned while his fingers gently ran underneath the elastic of Dennis’ boxer briefs.

“I can take it off,” Dennis made eye contact with Abbot, “if you want.”

“Not about what I want,” Abbot tugged at Dennis’ underwear, and Dennis flushed darkly as he lifted his hips for that, too, and they slid down his thighs.

“Pretty,” Abbot murmured as he threw Dennis’ boxer briefs aside, and slunk down to lay on the bed. Dennis sighed as his legs fell open, accommodating Abbot as he crawled between them, his shoulders cruxing Dennis’ knees as he bit and licked kisses alongside the insides of his thighs.

Abbot’s eyes jumped to meet Dennis’ as he sucked a small hickey on his abductor. “Did you like it when I spanked you earlier?”

Something coiled at the base of Dennis’ spine. “I think so,” he nodded. Abbot bit Dennis, not hard enough to hurt.

“Have you ever done things like that in bed?”

“The resident I dated,” Dennis winced, the prickling pain from Abbot’s teeth settling hot in his core, “he liked hickeys. Giving them to me, I mean.”

“Where would he give you them?” Abbot licked over the indentations from his bite, and trailed further down Dennis’ thigh, eyes focusing on his pussy.

“He liked to bite my sides, and my stomach,” Dennis’ voice grew thin, abdomen contracting as his hips twitched closer to Abbot’s mouth, purely reflexive. “He’d hold me down when I’d try to get away, when- when it hurt. But I always sort of liked it.”

“Did you have a safeword?” Abbot pressed his cheek up against Dennis’ skin, inches away from where he needed Abbot most.

Dennis bit his lip, and shook his head. Abbot hummed.

“You know the stoplight system?”

Dennis nodded. “Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“That’s how it’s gonna work here,” Abbot murmured. “You got that?”

“I got it,” Dennis bit back a whine. “Please, Jack.”

Abbot tucked in. Dennis’ head fell back onto the pillow, his breath releasing in one, sharp exhale as Abbot licked a long, hot line from his entrance to his cock, before gently wrapping his lips around it. 

“Fuck,” Dennis breathed, his eyelashes fluttering shut as his back arched minutely, rocking his hips against Abbot’s mouth.

Abbot’s tongue laved up along the underside of Dennis’ cock, sending staticky lightning strikes down his spine, and Dennis arched, fingers tangling in the sheets as he huffed on a breath, his thighs contracting around Abbot’s head.

“Fuck, fuck,” Dennis whined as Abbot pinched the outside of his thigh, and spread his legs wide again, giving the older man more access. His abdomen flexed, covered by his t-shirt, and his head fell back as Abbot’s tongue swirled around his cock. “Oh my god, Jack, fuck.”

Maybe this was self-serving for Abbot.

Dennis’ head tossed back, thighs flexing as Abbot gripped him, burying his face, barely visible between the deep blonde curls between Dennis’ legs. His mouth fell open as he panted, hips jerking but unmoving under Abbot’s touch as the older man’s tongue fucked in and out of him, licking and lapping like this was the last time he’d ever get to do this.

“Jack,” Dennis whined, “ngh, Jack, Jack–” 

Abbot dragged his tongue back to Dennis’ cock, pressing hard and flat up along the bottom, and Dennis moaned, back arching and hips curling inward, fingernails threatening to tear through the comforter. Dennis struggled to catch his breath, eyes squeezing shut as Abbot’s tongue burned up and down his cock, Abbot’s head bobbing as he practically ate Dennis alive.

Dennis heaved a breath, deflating to the bed as Abbot pulled away, biting meanly at the insides of Dennis’ thighs. Dennis whimpered, the pinpricks of pain sending needles of magma down to his core, and Abbot glanced up to him, eyes fiery.

“Color,” Abbot growled, and licked the bite marks he’d left.

“Green,” Dennis moaned, “green, so fucking green.”

Abbot sunk his teeth into the meat of Dennis’ inner thigh, sucking, and Dennis wailed, his legs closing around Abbot’s head at the ache, the awful, wonderful ache. 

“Fuck me,” Dennis bleated as Abbot removed his mouth, blushing hard a the deep purple mark he’d left. “Oh my god, Jack, I want you to fuck me.”

Abbot jerked Dennis’ thighs back apart, and seared his mouth to Dennis’ cock again. His right arm retracted, and Dennis’ leg fell flat to the bed. He made a soft noise of confusion, the sound burning into a high-pitched gasp as he felt fingers prod at his entrance.

“God,” Abbot pulled away, not without another lap to Dennis’ burning skin. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Please,” Dennis whimpered, and hoisted himself up onto his elbows, hips twitching pathetically towards Abbot’s mouth. “Please, green, green, green, Jack, please.”

Abbot laughed, and his eyes jumped to Dennis’ face. Dennis’ mouth dropped open slightly, and his eyelashes fluttered as two, thick, calloused fingers pressed inside of him.

“How long has it been since something was inside of you, huh?” Abbot purred. “Except maybe your own finger. Unless you prefer to play with your cock?”

Dennis’ arms trembled underneath him, and he shook his head. “I dunno,” he hiccuped, biting his lip as Abbot’s fingers bottomed out, and stretched out inside of him. “I don’t– I don’t have toys.”

“None?” Abbot pouted, but it quickly spread into a smirk as he began to pump his fingers in and out.

Dennis inhaled a shaky breath. “N- No. Um, I mostly just-” he flushed darkly, thinking of Abbot’s wording. “I just play with my cock, yeah.”

“Fuck,” Abbot exhaled, and his fingers crooked, curling Dennis’ hips upward. His other hand, still holding Dennis’ other thigh up, gripped harshly at him, nails digging into his skin. Dennis’ arms slipped out from under him, and he squeaked as he hit the mattress.

“Jack,” Dennis exhaled as the older man pushed another finger in, “Jack, please.”

Abbot turned his face to Dennis’ other thigh, still raised, biting and sucking, teeth scraping against him, eyebrows knit together with hunger. Dennis sucked in a breath as Abbot pulled away to press the flat of tongue against the bruising mark. His eyes flickered to meet Dennis’, heavy, starving.

“I could stay down here all day,” Abbot kissed the mark, “I would, if you let me.”

Dennis’ chest stuttered as he breathed out, and his bottom lip jutted out in a small pout. “But I want you in me.”

“I am in you,” Abbot grinned, and nipped Dennis again, and curled his fingers, making the younger man gasp.

“That’s not what I mean,” Dennis whined, his face hot as he rocked his hips down against Abbot’s fingers, his freed foot finding purchase against the cushion. He bit his lip, leg twitching away from Abbot’s bite, trying to catch his attention. Abbot leaned to bite Dennis again, and huffed a laugh, eyes flickering back to meet Dennis’, who had hoisted himself back onto his elbows.

“What do you mean, then?” Abbot hoisted himself up slightly, releasing Dennis’ leg, and it fell wide open, flat to the mattress.

Abbot twisted his fingers, making Dennis gasp. “You, Jack,” Dennis clenched down on the intrusion reactively. “I want–” Dennis blushed, “I want your cock. In me.”

Abbot grinned, his cheek dimpling. “Ask me nicely, baby.”

“Please,” Dennis bleated, “please, Jack, I want your cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me, please.”

Abbot gentled his fingers out of Dennis, and fully sat up. His grin relaxed, eyes darkening, and nodded at Dennis.

“Lay on your stomach up near the headboard,  so that your palms can lay flat against it.”

Dennis blinked up at Abbot, and when the man’s eyebrow raised, he hurried to obey. He twisted, getting up onto his hands and knees, flushing darkly as the cool air of the room met the wetness between his legs. When he got to the headboard, he tugged his shirt off, throwing it off the side of the bed, before settling down on his stomach. He stretched his arms out in front of him, and his palms were able to flatten against the headboard.

Abbot approached behind him, his hand brushing over Dennis’ ankle. 

“Hike your knees up, but keep your chest to the bed.”

Dennis’ face burned, and he raised his knees, his back bending at a sharp angle.

“Spread your knees, about shoulder-width apart.”

Dennis inched his knees apart, spreading further when Abbot tapped the inside of his thigh.

“Good boy,” Abbot murmured, and Dennis pressed his cheek to the comforter, feeling his blush creep down his shoulders. The mattress dipped, Abbot sliding between his open legs, and his breath hitched as the older man’s calloused, warm hands slid over the base of his spine, pressing downward, forcing Dennis further against the mattress. He grunted, and burned when Abbot’s hips pressed against his exposed pussy.

“You’re very flexible,” Abbot murmured. His hands released their pressure on Dennis’s back, trailing back up to his ass, “do you always blush all over like this?”

Dennis nodded sheepishly. “Trinity says I turn into a lobster.”

Abbot chuckled, but Dennis couldn’t participate in the joke when his fingers spread Dennis’ apart. “I wouldn’t attribute you to an arthropod, but it is very cute. Makes your moles stand out.”

“Thank you,” Dennis bit his lip, anticipation curling in the base of his spine.

Abbot’s fingers drummed against Dennis’s hip. “Y’know what would make them stand out even more? Especially around here?”

“What?” Dennis asked, though he felt like he already knew the answer.

“Some love taps,” Abbot crooned, “just a few. Maybe five. Enough to get your skin hot, not too many to leave marks or make you sore.”

Dennis exhaled harshly. “You could do enough to– to make me sore. If you wanted.”

Abbot paused. 

Dennis’ hands flexed against the headboard. “Or, or not. Five is cool.”

Abbot’s palms spread across Dennis’ ass, tentative, hot. “We could do more. Ten? Fifteen? As many as you can take before you safeword?” His voice dipped lower, fingers digging into Dennis’ skin as he said the last sentence, and Dennis exhaled shakily.

“Fifteen,” he nodded, “I like fifteen.”

“Jesus,” Abbot whispered, “Dennis, I hope you know how perfect you are.”

“Thank you-!” Dennis’ voice cut off as Abbot’s hand suddenly cracked down on his ass, stinging, searing, white-hot so stark it didn’t even hurt yet.

“Count,” Abbot demanded, “and thank me.”

“One,” Dennis heaved, and tensed, whimpering as Abbot hit him again. “Two.”

“You’re behind on two ‘thank you’s,” Abbot teased, and his hand connected with Dennis’ ass.

“Three,” Dennis’s hands pressed against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut as pain began to emanate through his thighs, down his back, rippling, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Sure you want fifteen?” The smirk in Abbot’s voice was palpable as he spanked Dennis again, pressing his palm against Dennis’ heated skin, feeling it, soothing it. “You’re already pretty pink. Well, pretty and  pink.”

Dennis retracted his arms from the headboard, gripping the bedsheets as he pressed his forehead to the mattress. “Four, thank you,” he inhaled and exhaled shakily, and nodded. “As many–” he blushed, head swirling as he forced the sentence beyond his teeth, “as many as you think I deserve, s- sir.”

“Fuck,” Abbot hissed, and pressed his hips to Dennis’ aching pussy, and he was hard, rock hard, making Dennis gasp. “Yeah? You like calling me sir?”

Dennis nodded desperately, yelping as Abbot hit him again, gripping over the stinging surface meanly.

“Fuck, five,” Dennis whined, “thank you, sir, ah-!”

Abbot hit Dennis again, now on his other, less tender side. “Can’t leave any part unattended, right?” Abbot laughed as Dennis bleated a weak six, thank you!

“I’d like to keep you like this when I fuck you,” Abbot crooned as he hit Dennis again, talking over Dennis’ cry as he admiring the pinked, reddening skin, “I like the way your back bends. You got a preferred position?” His hand cracked down on the younger man’s skin, and his cock throbbed at Dennis’ heaved eight, thank you!

Dennis lifted his head from the mattress, his shoulders trembling as pain, stinging, whitelightingshock pain, simmered across from him, agonizing, euphoric, perfect. “Um,” his voice trembled, and Abbot stopped the hits for a moment, soothing his hands across Dennis’ inflamed skin, “I don’t- I don’t have a preference, no, sir.”

“So unopinionated,” Abbot teased, and brushed his thumbs over Dennis’ ass. “Is eight enough? Otherwise, I’m gonna stop you at ten.”

“I want fifteen,” Dennis whimpered, fingers weakly tugging at the sheets. 

“Most you get is ten,” Abbot stood firm, “wanna finish them out or be done now?”

“Finish them,” Dennis curled his elbows close to his side, bearing down a little, “please.”

“You’re adorable,” Abbot chuckled, and swatted Dennis this time, closer to his thigh, and the younger man cringed away, the connection harder, faster, and sharper than the flat-palmed hits. 

“Nine, thank you,” Dennis bit the inside of his cheek. Abbot hit him again, on the other side, and Dennis exhaled, dropping his face to the mattress again as Abbot ducked down to drag his tongue across Dennis’ skin, laving over the red, heated marks.

 “Ten, thank you,” Dennis murmured, wincing as Abbot nipped him, just barely. Abbot retracted, leaving the spit to dry, and suddenly left the bed. Dennis turned over his shoulder, and watched, staying in the same position, as Abbot practically ripped his pants off, balancing on one foot to jerk the end of the pant leg over his prosthetic. Dennis’ stomach curled warmly when Abbot’s boxers went next, revealing the older man’s thick, hard cock. 

Dennis jerked his face back to face the mattress when Abbot turned around, and he chuckled as he climbed back onto the bed.

“Taking a peek?” Abbot teased, his voice dipping lower as he pressed his hips to Dennis’, skin to skin, hot to hotter.

“Maybe,” Dennis murmured, and extended his arms out again, pressing his palms flat to the headboard. Abbot ground his cock against Denns’ pussy, groaning softly.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet,” his hands moved to grip Dennis’ hips. “You on birth control?”

“Testosterone,” Dennis nodded, “I haven’t had a period in six months.”

“Well, that’s not 100% safe,” Abbot muttered, “good thing I got a vasectomy, right?”

Before Dennis could respond, his voice caught in his throat as the tip of Abbot’s cock pressed against his entrance, not pushing, just present.

There was a simmering pause. Dennis adjusted, hips twitching backwards. Abbot’s hands stopped him.

“Ask me, baby,” Abbot coaxed.

Dennis shivered. He shut his eyes, stomach gnawing and core aching. “Please,” his voice cracked slightly, “please, sir, please fuck me- ngh.” Dennis’ head dropped, a low, breathless keen slipping out of him as Abbot pushed inside, hard and warm and filling Dennis in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been needing.

“God, damn,” Abbot exhaled, nails digging into Dennis’ skin, “fuck, you’re so tight. Shit.”

“Jack,” Dennis exhaled into the blanket, back arching and spine aching as Abbot bottomed out, hiccupping on his inhale. “Ugh.”

Abbot’s hands moved from Dennis’ hips down to his waist, the older man leaning over him, pressing Dennis against the mattress as he breathed in through his teeth, hips pulling back out slowly, horribly.

Dennis’ breath caught as his back was forced to bend against Abbot’s hand, and his fingers clawed at the headboard, magma running in rivulets under his skin as Abbot thrusted back in, a noise escaping their mouths in tandem. 

Abbot leaned further over Dennis, pressing their hips further together than Dennis thought possible, caging Dennis against the bed. Abbot’s flat palm pressed into the mattress next to Dennis’ shoulder, the other gripping firmer at his waist.

Dennis whimpered, the pressure inside of him thick, warm, and immense, and Abbot hushed him softly.

“Taking my cock so good, baby,” Abbot murmured. He pulled his hips out, the angle scratching something just right inside of Dennis, and jerked back in, flush, hard, and Dennis’ body threatened to go limp. “Love how you bend to my whim. My little student to mould, huh?”

Dennis pulled his face away from the mattress to catch his breath, though it was punched back out of him as Abbot thrusted again. His shoulders flexed inward, scapula rolling forward as he pressed for purchase against the headboard, jaw dropping as helpless, open-mouthed gasps poured from him.

“J-ack,” Dennis bleated, insides coiling and flexing as Abbot began to push in and out in earnest, gripping his waist hard. Dennis’ head felt like it was getting further away, a fog clouding around him as Abbot’s hips met Dennis’ pinked, stinging ass, hard and firm, cock pummeling a deep pit within him, just right, just perfect.

“God, yeah, baby,” Abbot groaned, and released Dennis’ waist to press both of his hands into the mattress, rolling into the younger man harder, faster, building a harsh rhythm. Dennis deflated into the bed, weak and malleable to Abbot’s thrusts, sounds spilling from him every time they connected, pitiful.

Abbot changed his angle, curling further over Dennis, and the younger man keened. Pleasure, hotter, exploding, and painful in just the right way rocketed through him, spreading like the iron-dense ripples of a meteor strike. His right hand retracted from the headboard to desperately grip Abbot’s wrist, a sob bursting from him.

“Yeah?” Abbot laughed, breathy, “right there?”

Dennis made an unintelligible noise in response, tears of overstimulation pricking in his eyes, and a tightness stretched in his sternum, tense and elastic, threatening to snap.

“Hnng,” Dennis’ nails dug into Abbot’s wrist, wetness spilling from his eyes, dampening the sheets, “f-ugh, Jack, fuck–”

Abbot bullied his cock in and out of Dennis, exhaling sharply every few seconds, reminding Dennis distantly of how runners would keep their breathing in check. “Tightening around me so good, baby, fuck I’m gonna fill you up so good. Breed your fuckin’ pussy.”

Dennis keened into the sheets.

“Yeah,” Abbot hissed, invigorated by Dennis’ verbalization, “you want that, baby? Does baby want a baby?”

Dennis’ head swirled, and he nodded desperately, barely able to catch his breath at the tightness inside of him that stretched shoulder-to-shoulder, tugging on an anchor line in his core.

“Please,” the word fell from Dennis’ mouth before he could think about it, his mind eons away, only the thundering echoes of pleasure climbing up his brainstem, his nucleus accumbens firing over, and over, and over, and over again.

“Fuck,” Abbot cursed, “yeah, baby, I’ve got you.”

“Please,” Dennis whined, twisting his face against the sheets, “please, Jack, please–”

“You close?” Abbot heaved, pace faltering for half a second, “you gonna come for me?”

“Close,” Dennis cried, tears spilling from his eyes in consistent rivulets, “‘m so close, please–”

“Come for me,” Abbot growled, “come around my fuckin’ cock, fuck, Dennis–”

The tension snapped inside of Dennis, and his back arched, shoulders curling inward and a cry, awful and thick, spilled from his mouth as it ran through him, from his spine to his fingers to his toes, and back again.

Abbot made an aborted noise, his hips stuttering, and pressed himself flush to Dennis, exhaling harshly, his hands pressing heavier in the mattress.

They caught their breaths together.

“Jesus,” Abbot huffed.

“Bath,” Dennis’ voice was muffled in the sheets.

“Bath,” Abbot agreed.

Dennis was warm, wet, and sudsy, with his back to Abbot’s chest while they lounged, perfectly lazy, in Abbot’s big, clawfooted bath. Abbot’s fingers pressed and rubbed along Dennis’ shoulders, fingers slick and soapy while they slumped together in the steaming tub. The ends of Dennis’ curls were wet, the top of his hair mostly dry except for where his or Abbot’s fingers had run through it, and he exhaled softly, eyes slipping shut.

Abbot leaned forward, just a little, and pressed a kiss to Dennis’ neck, right behind his ear. His hands moved lower, pressing and massaging against Dennis’ side, sweet and soft, just enough pressure without hurting.

“I like you,” Dennis breathed the words, his eyes still blissfully closed, “a lot.”

“I like you, too,” Abbot murmured, and kissed the same spot again, “a lot.”

“We should date,” Dennis felt his cheeks warm.

“I agree,” the curve of the words betrayed Abbot’s smile, “we should.”
“Will we tell people?” Dennis’ eyelashes fluttered as Abbot dug into a knot in his side, working it away with a practiced press of his thumb.

“The people we trust,” Abbot hummed, “like Trinity.”

“What about Robby?” 

Abbot paused, his fingers stilling. “We can, if you want.”

“Would he tell?” 

Trepidation rippled across the bathwater, and Abbot’s fingers began working again. “I don’t think so. Not if you asked him nicely.”

Dennis nodded, and relaxed back against Abbot’s chest. Abbot exhaled a laugh, and wrapped his arms around Dennis, holding him close.

“I like you,” Dennis whispered it again, the words more tangible now, on his tongue, tactile behind his teeth.

“I like you, too,” Abbot whispered it back, and pressed a kiss to the side of Dennis’ head. “Wanna get Waffle House after this?”

Dennis snickered, an easy smile curling across his face. He exhaled softly, and relished in the wet press of their skin together in the warm heat of the bath. “Yeah,” he nodded softly, “I’d like that.”