Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dennis is late. 

Not even fashionably late, just late. He figures it’s what he gets for succumbing to the tempting illusion of a quick nap after work, knowing full well he has just about an hour to be at home until he has to leave for his date.

Well, he’s been told before that he’s a fucking idiot. It shouldn’t be news to him at this point. 

“Shit, shit, shit – ” He hisses as he tries to pull up his jeans over his thighs. Emphasis on trying. They fit him nicely, he’s aware, but in order for them to show off his thighs and his ass, he has to squeeze these parts into them at first. Inititally that had made him sceptical, but with a bit of convincing from Trinity, he had reluctantly bought a pair or two. Just as with his haircut, he hasn’t regretted the decision since.

With the button of his jeans barely fastened, he stumbles out of his room and shuts the door behind him with a slam that echoes through the entire department, making him wince. Trinity looks up from her spot on the couch with an annoyed glare, which turns into mild amusement as she looks at him.

“I thought you’re supposed to look fucked up after a date.” She quips, gesturing at his hair which Dennis can only assume is sticking up in all directions. He absentmindedly runs his hand through it, to no avail. Fuck it. It’s gonna have to be enough.

“Very funny.” He puts his shoes on whilst he scrambles to find his keys, which, as always, are not in the one spot he always tells himself he will leave them at.

“Woah, prickly much. Not my fault your schedule is flooded with hook ups. Who is it this time? Bradley? Tim? That one really grumpy looking guy you met at the club two weeks ago?”

“Matt.” Dennis supplies, and shudders at the thought. He had hoped that the grumpiness was a facade. It wasn’t. “No, it’s — it’s Luke, actually. Met him last week at a bar. He’s — nice.”

“Nice. Riiight. I’m sure you have very deep talks.” Trinity takes a handful of chips out of the bag on her lap, chewing on them at an obnoxious volume. 

“We do talk, actually, even if you won’t believe me.” Dennis scans the top of the dresser next to the door for the third time, like his keys are going to magically appear next to Trinity’s own. It’s a wishful thought, and futile, of course. Another quick look at his phone has him wincing, both at the time and at Luke’s inquiring messages. He types out a quick response, apologetic, but vague. “Look, have you seen my keys? I really need to –”

“It’s not that I don’t respect your grind.” Trinity continues, completely ignoring his plea. “And whilst I supported your mission to fuck yourself out of heartbreak fully, I’m starting to think my trusted method is not working for you. Maybe there is such a thing as being too much of  a gay disaster.”

“Not helpful, Trin – please.” Dennis is not whining. He’s not. But whatever he does seems to be helping, judging by the way Trinity rolls her eyes and puts her right leg on the small table in front of the couch, tilting her foot to the side until they point on glinting metal resting on the table.

“Thank fuck.” Dennis breathes out, snatching the keys from their spot with a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. If you come back tonight, you better be a lot more quiet. Now go, Fuckleberry.”

Dennis gives an awkward wave on his way out, taking two steps at the time as he aims for the exit. If he catches the next bus, he will only be about forty minutes too late. That’s fine. He can make it up to Luke. Get his mind off things, and get his own mind off things in return.

Because no matter what Trinity might think, his strategy is working.

It is.

“Still working, Whitaker?”

Dennis jumps, almost dropping the tablet he’s been holding onto the floor of the break room. He’s been engrossed in his patient’s file, double checking his entries even though he already handed the case off to night shift half an hour ago. Male, 61, presenting with dizziness and a mild headache. Something about the guy put him on edge.

“Wh–geez!” He exhales a shaky breath under the amused twinkling gaze of Robby, who’s leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. He looks tired.

He also, much to Dennis’s dismay, still looks very hot.

“Woah, careful. Wouldn’t want you to be our next patient.” Robby trots over with feigned interest, snatching the tablet from Dennis’ fumbling hands. He scans the file quickly, eyes peering over the glasses perched low on his nose. Dennis’ gut lurches with a spark of arousal. “Mr. Hemsworth? I thought you handed him off to Ellis already.”

“I did.” Dennis admits, chewing his lower lip between his teeth. “Everything’s in order, I just — have this feeling that we are missing something. I wanted to make sure.”

“You ran all the tests you could in the last hour, and reported them properly to everyone who needs to know. Doctor Ellis is a capable doctor. Trust her to take care of the guy, he’s not your responsibility anymore.” A big hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing briefly. Dennis shivers. That touch in itself is not new. Robby’s been handling him that way ever since they first met. The way it lingers, however? 

Uncharted territory, as of two months ago.

“Go home, Whitaker.” Robby whispers, staring down at him with an odd intensity. Their eyes briefly meet, before Dennis averts them and licks over his lips. Dangerous. This is dangerous territory.

“You’re right.” Dennis admits, distracting himself with the actual case at hand. “And I will, just – give me a minute to check over my charts and I’ll be out of here. Uhm, shouldn’t you be on your way too?”

“What, are you gonna send me home in return?” Robby teases, and Dennis flushes, flustered. 

“O-of course not, I’d never.”

“Relax.” Robby interrupts him. A quick glance reveals that the older man is still looking at him, a bit of worry now mixing into his confusion. “You’ve been jumpy lately. Anything bothering you?”

You, Dennis thinks. You are bothering me. Except that wouldn’t be the truth, because whatever weird tension has built up between him and Robby hasn’t exactly been bothersome. Confusing, mildly terrifying, thrilling, all of that. Bothersome? Not really.

At least until a week ago, when Dennis had gotten a glimpse of Robby and Abbot on the roof, leaning closely together to whisper about something, Abbot’s hand sliding onto Robby’s lower back. Resting, comfortably. Intimately. Familiar. 

Whilst Dennis’ thing for Robby hadn’t been bothersome then, the thought of being a homewrecker surely is. The fact that he kind of has a thing for Abbot, too, doesn’t exactly help that part. 

So Dennis has settled for avoidance. Which has turned out to be kind of hard, because none of the men seem to be keen on changing the way they’ve been interacting with him. It’s making the whole thing exceedingly difficult. 

The fact that Dennis is a weak, weak man only adds to his demise.

“It’s nothing, really.” He lies, shooting Robby a smile that must look as unconvincing as it feels, judging by Robby’s frown. “Just tired.”

Robby scrutinises him for a few more, agonising seconds, before he slowly hands the tablet back to Whitaker with a sigh and sits down on the seat across from him.

“So this isn’t about my – advances?”

Dennis blinks, too taken aback to hide his surprise. 

“A-advances?”

“Yes.” Robby rubs the back of his neck, face torn between sheepishness and nervousness. “I’ve been told to be more transparent, so – I’d like to take you out sometime. Outside of work.”

Dennis stares at him, mouth parted. He can’t help it. He briefly considers the possibility that he dozed off in the break room and is dreaming all of this, which also poses the very real chance of him waking up with sharpie all over his face and Trinity humiliating him with pictures of him drooling for the following month or two. Victoria would join her, without a doubt. Is it even possible to be this aware of waking up in a dream?

“I realise that this is more than unprofessional. If you say no, we can pretend this never happened.” 

Dennis snaps out of his musings, watching dazedly as Robby shifts in his seat and averts his gaze. He’s steeling himself for rejection. Dennis can tell.

“N-no!” He bursts out, panicked. “I’m not – I’m very interested.”

Dennis chuckles nervously, and Robby’s face softens into relief. There’s that warmth in his eyes, the one that makes Dennis want to melt and make a fool out of himself. 

“Good. I figured, but – I didn’t want to assume. Or maybe I did.” Robby grins, and Dennis finds himself returning the gesture, wide and stupid. He can’t help but soak up moments like  these, where none of them are rushed by work and can exchange more than a few words through the chaos of the Pitt. It’s not often that he really catches Robby after his shift, mainly because he’s always with —

Abbot.

“U-uhm, not that it’s any of my business, but…well, actually, I guess it kind of is my business now, so –” Robby stares at him, confused, and Dennis sighs, annoyed with his own lack of clarity. “I thought you and Doctor Abbot were a thing?”

“Oh.” Robby blinks, an unreadable expression settling over his face. “That’s — no. Not exactly. We do share benefits, occasionally, but it’s nothing serious.”

“Oh.” Dennis frowns. Whatever he expected, this interpretation of their relationship wasn’t it. It doesn’t seem right. Getting in the middle of a situationship between two men in their fifties hadn’t exactly been his plan. “So how am I going to fit into these benefits? Won’t he mind if we…?” 

Dennis gestures between them, vague and awkward, and Robby snorts. He glances towards the break room door, ensuring that they are alone, and leans forward.

“He won’t. But that being said –” Robby licks his lips, and Dennis can’t help but trail the movement, entranced. “He’s also been interested in you. So – if that doesn’t freak you out, we could try that out, too.”

“Huh?” Dennis chokes out. He’s definitely going to wake up with sharpie all over him in a few seconds. He has to. 

“Ah, shit, this is – a lot. I get it. I’m sorry.” Robby grimaces, and he seems genuinely remorseful. “Should have waited until we all had the time to talk, but I thought that’d be even more inappropriate – listen, kid, we can really forget this ever happened–”

“There’s no way –” Dennis starts, slowly. “ – that Doctor Abbot was flirting with me.”

Robby snorts out a laugh despite himself. “Oh, there sure is. I told him you won’t be able to tell, because he’s a little shit who pulls these stunts on everyone, but he was so confident it’d land. Man, I can’t wait to tell him this.”

An unbidden image of Robby and Abbot, entwined on the roof as they discuss ways to make a move on him, flashes in his head. The arousal punches through him instantly. 

Fuck, this is a bad idea.

“I want to.” He says, regardless. “With both of you. If that’s what you are getting at.”

“Are you sure?” Robby implores, unable to fully hide how pleased he is behind the caution he exhibits. “This is a lot to take in, and we don’t want to pressure you. If you need more time to think this through, you can have that.”

“You won’t let it affect work?” 

“Of course not. We’d take you out, sometimes together, sometimes separately. And if all goes well, we have fun, and leave that part behind when we clock in for our shift.”

Fun. Yeah. Fun with his two attendings, who outdo him in just every aspect of life, whether it’s age, experience, hell, even physically they tower over him with ease. This time, Dennis doesn’t even try to quell the arousal.

“Fun sounds good.”

“You’re gonna take my hard fought for title of slut of the apartment from me if you keep going like that, you know?” 

Dennis groans and rubs at his eyes as they move from the parking lot towards the hospital entrance. The lack of sleep is already kicking his ass – getting up at 4 am to leave for his own apartment just for a shower and a change of clothes before an early shift hadn’t exactly done him any favours, especially combined with the fact that he and Luke hadn’t done much sleeping before that to begin with. Who would have thought.

“No, but seriously, Fuckleberry – don’t you need a break sometimes? If you’re not at work here or for the street team, you seem to be on the move. I’m starting to think I’m hallucinating having a roommate.”

“Wouldn’t guess that, seeing as you yelled at me for eating your kale salad just two days ago.” Dennis mutters, tightening his hold on the sling of his backpack. He’s heard this line of complaint more than once this week. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Trinity is not so subtly hinting at him to stop his little escapades. He’s still not sure whether she’s annoyed with him or actually worried. It’s probably a bit of both. 

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. I never said you aren’t still a fucking nuisance.” She pulls on the left string of his hoodie with force, yanking at it until the strings are uneven. Trinity knows how much he hates that. “You’re still paying for that salad, by the way.”

“You–” Dennis huffs and yanks away from her, fumbling with his hoodie strings as they enter the ED. It’s still surprisingly peaceful, but he’s learnt very quickly that he can’t even think that too loudly. The chaos will catch up with them in no time. They both get ready at their lockers, and Trinity dumps him to hunt for the best patients in advance. Dennis is still tugging at his hoodie strings until he deems his own efforts fruitless. He dumps the thing into his locker with a sigh and mentally prepares himself for his shift. When he slams his locker shut, there’s someone hovering behind it.

“Shit–” Dennis flinches, back colliding with the locker behind him. Jack stares at him quietly, already wearing his jacket and bag. It’s still uncanny to him, just how much the older guy can sneak up on people. “I – didn’t see you there.”

“I noticed.” Jack quips dryly. Dennis swallows, unable to meet his eyes. Ever since he put an end to their thing, he’s been doing his very best to avoid both Jack and Robby – and well, avoiding Jack is actually pretty easy with their opposing shifts. It’s both a blessing and a curse, because as much as he rationally doesn’t want to see them, emotionally it’s another story. The fact that both of them have been respectful of the distance is equally ambiguous for his feelings. 

“You doing okay?” Jack asks, quietly. It throws Dennis off his tracks. In these past eight weeks, Dennis can count the private words they have exchanged on two hands, maybe one. It’s odd that Jack is choosing to break that unspoken rule now.

“I – yeah?” He replies, but even to him it sounds more like a question. Jack is staring intently at him, gaze flickering between his face and the top of his scrubs. Dennis fiddles with the fabric, nervous. He’s pretty sure he’s put on a fresh one this morning. “I guess I’m a bit tired. Long days, long nights, you know?”

He laughs, a painful little sound, and feels the urge to slap himself. Something shifts in Jack’s gaze and solidifies. Dennis can’t get a read on it. He’s gotten better at reading them over time, but whilst he’s had a pretty finely attuned Robby radar ever since meeting the man, figuring out Jack’s line of thinking always proved to be a lot harder. It shouldn’t infuriate him now. Not anymore. 

“Yeah. Long nights I can imagine.” Jack replies, tone flat. Dennis flinches against his will. It doesn’t get unnoticed, judging by the way Jack eases his posture just slightly, releasing a small huff before he starts again in a softer tone. “Make sure you take care of yourself, Whitaker.”

It stings, the last name. But Dennis reminds himself that this is what he wanted. He should probably start referring to Jack as Abbot again, too, even in his head. Every ounce of distance gained should be a win for him. 

“I will.” He ends up forcing out, figuring he needs to give some answer. It seems to be enough. Jack shoots him one last unreadable look before he turns and heads out of the ER. Dennis sags against the lockers with a shaky exhale. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t still be like this. Not after eight weeks. Not after all the distance he’s enforced. Not after countless hook ups and dates and some genuinely nice guys who have treated him well.

Frustrated with himself, he makes his way to the hub and starts his shift.

It doesn’t get better from there. Sure, he’s off his game a little, overly tired and emotionally preoccupied, but he can’t help the impression that everyone else is off with him, too. 

Mostly Robby.

Especially Robby. 

They’ve both been decent at being picture perfect resident and attending when their work requires him to do so, but when Dennis presents a case one hour into his shift, Robby’s fleeting glance seems to catch on him, and he falters. Their eyes meet for just a second, and Dennis does his best to pretend that that brief millisecond doesn’t still do unimaginable things to him. Then, Robby’s face sours, just a bit.

He’s even shorter with him than usual for the rest of the shift.

It’s weird, because whilst the man keeps his voice tight and his instructions short, his eyes seem to catch on Dennis more than usual. It’s noticeable, or at least Dennis thinks it is, but he might also be paranoid today because he’s feeling everyone’s gazes lingering on him. Maybe he’s grown a second head without noticing. The more the shift progresses, the more that feels like a plausible explanation.

It’s not until hour ten, almost at the end of his shift, that Dana catches him in a quiet moment of charting.

“I’m not here to judge you, kid, but you gotta do a better job at hiding your extracurriculars at work. This is a hospital, not a club.” She scolds him with raised eyebrows, scanning him from top to bottom. Dennis looks up at her, confused and yet already mildly embarrassed.

“What do you mean?”

Dana frowns, her eyebrows now raised so high Dennis is afraid they might disappear entirely.

“Your neckline. Whoever put that work in there must have been a little too enthusiastic for it to show. Better cover it next time.” 

Shit.

Dennis’ hand slaps over his neck on reflex, mortified. He stutters out some vague mix of excuse and thanks before he stumbles towards the bathroom, basically falling over his feet in order to reach the mirror. 

And sure thing, there it was. A fucking hickey, fresh and bruising, poking out just above the neckline of his scrubs. It stands out like a sore thumb on his pale skin. 

Jack’s unreadable face flashes through his mind, followed by Robby’s tense attitude and lingering glances that seemed to follow him through the ED. He tugs up his shirt with a groan, bunching it up just so that it reaches high enough to cover the bruise for now. Not  that it really matters at this point. He figures with how red he is now, the thing wouldn’t be so out of place on his skin anymore.

He storms out towards the hub again, bypassing Dana’s scrutiny to make his way over to Trinity, who’s gathered around one of the stations with Mel, Mohan and McKay.

“Why did nobody tell me?” He hisses, voice hushed in order to not draw any extra attention. The women turn to him, unimpressed.

“Tell you what?” Trinity asks flatly, but judging by the mild twinkle in her eyes, she knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“The – you know!” Dennis grits out, vaguely gesturing at his neck area. Trinity smirks. 

“I told you you’re being a slut. What more was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, is this about your neck bruise?” Mel chimes in, momentarily delighted to have caught on, until her face shifts into something more uncomfortable and apologetic. “I thought you knew. From my experience this isn’t the kind of thing you talk about with someone. I thought I was being polite.”

“I genuinely couldn’t care less, Whitaker.” Mohan sighs, fixing him with a dead stare. She’s had a bad shift, he knows. He almost feels bad, pestering her with his idiocy. 

“Well, I didn’t know, or else I would have – !” He deflates against the station with a groan, head dropping between his shoulders. “I saw all my patients with this. All of them.”

“It could be worse, Whitaker.” McKay consoles him, giving him a slap to the shoulder. “You have a private life, no shame in that. Makes you more human to them, too.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He mutters back miserably. They all slowly start to disperse, giving Dennis a good two minutes to wallow in his misery before a shout for help jolts him into action.

He tugs on his shirt obsessively for the rest of his shift, keeping it as high as possible. For shift change, he avoids both Jack and Robby like his life depends on it.

He makes Trinity help him buy a fitting concealer right after. 

He’s standing in front of a hospital side entrance, rummaging through his bag for his badge, when a familiar hand settles on his lower back.

“Busy?”

To Dennis’ credit, he doesn’t quite jump out of his skin like he usually does. There’s a small flinch, a barely there jump, and shifting eyes to check their environment – nobody’s around, luckily, before he turns to Jack. 

“You need to stop doing that at work.” He grumbles, but a pleased flush makes its way to his cheeks either way. He’s not late, but he knows Jack leaves earlier than usual on Tuesdays for some weekly veteran meet up, so it’s not a day where he regularly sees him at handoff. 

Jack smiles, and now there are two hands on his waist, pulling their bodies closer together. He noses at Dennis’ nape, just below his curls. 

“I’m not at work. In fact, I won’t be for another 60 hours. And you haven’t clocked in yet, either. I’d say this is fair game.” Jack drops a kiss on his shoulder, featherlight. Dennis can’t help but melt into it, the paranoia over being caught momentarily forgotten.

“You’re going to make me late.” Dennis protests weakly regardless, holding on to his last shred of self preservation. He has a low fighting chance, if he’s honest with himself – Robby and Jack could make him do just about anything, and that has nothing to do with their attending status. 

Jack hums against his neck, but doesn’t stop nosing at the sensitive skin there. Dennis can feel the smile he presses into his collarbone. 

“Your boss won’t mind.” He whispers, just in time for him to slip a hand underneath Dennis’ scrub shirt. Dennis squirms at the touch. 

“But Dana will rip my head off, and she’s way scarier than you or Robby.” He forces out and slaps the hand away from his waist before he takes a step back. Jack complies, but even then, he looks amused as he clutches his chest in fake outrage.

“You wound me, Dennis. All that hard work to be big and bad for you only for you to break my heart.”

“Oh, cut the shit.” Dennis rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile. It’s one of his favourite things when Jack gets silly with him – not the derisive sarcasm that hides his bad moods, but this more genuine version. There’s something intimate about it that fills Dennis with warmth. 

“Oh, I’m serious.” Jack shoots back, the amused twinkle flashing through his eyes. “I’m an old, old man. You can’t play with me like this.”

“You don’t usually complain when I play with you, do you?” 

“Fair point.” Jack grins and takes a final step back, releasing Dennis from his hold entirely. “I’ll leave you to your shift, then. See you tonight. Make sure Robby isn’t a total bitch when he gets back, I can’t possibly get enough sleep to put up with his antics later.”

The mention of tonight makes his heart leap. Ever since they started their thing, they’d tried to coordinate their schedules more without making it too obvious just what they were coordinating for. More often than not they’d get at least one sort of overlapping day in the week, if not more where two of them could share some time together. Dennis marvelled in it every day. The dates had been nice from the very get go, even though it was clear that they were only setting the scene for the sex to follow. But the dates and the sex had started to make way for spending time together in all sorts of ways, and dangerously enough, Dennis now didn’t have any preference for the physical aspects at all – it’s their company he started to crave. So the thought of them having two days off to spend together after almost two months of coordinating in advance – yeah. He’s fucking stoked.

“Keep Gloria away from the ED and I might manage to keep him in a good mood.” Dennis quips back. Jack’s eyes crinkle in the way they only do when something genuinely amuses him, and it takes all of Dennis’ strength to not haul his hands back around his waist and stay there. He still has twelve hours to go.

“See you tonight, Whit.” 

“See you.” Dennis breathes, giving the other a foolish small wave with his hand that he aborts midway, awkwardly clutching the strap of his bag instead. Acting like a schoolboy with a crush is embarrassing enough at his age, but acting this way towards a man that’s almost twice that age – well, he’s only glad that both Jack and Robby seem to find it endearing.

Jack is about to turn around when Dennis’ urges get the better out of him. He double checks their surroundings again, making sure there’s still nobody there to observe their multiple HR violations, before he tugs Jack back at his elbow and presses a brief kiss on his lips. Jack blinks, momentarily surprised, before his face softens back into a smile. Dennis steps back, face hot, and almost steps over his own feet as he backtracks towards the entrance.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll just – bye.”

He finally turns and makes his  way into the hospital, his search for his badge forgotten up until he’s in front of his locker. By the time he joins the rest of the shift, he is indeed, too late. He feels Dana’s mild glare all across the floor as he keeps his eyes on the board to choose a first case. 

“Glad to see that you are still willing to join us, Doctor Whitaker.” A familiar deep voice echoes next to him. He gives Robby a sheepish smile, and ignores the way a few dark curls of chest hair spill over his scrub top. Work. He’s at work now.

“Sorry, Doctor Robby. Won’t happen again.”

It’s a lie. It very probably will happen again. But Robby nods anyway and claps his shoulder, lingering just long enough for it to be dismissed as his usual touchiness.

“It better not.” He agrees, and then, in the brief second he lets his hand slip from Dennis’ shoulder and walks past him, he leans into his ear.

“Tonight.” He whispers, his voice a faint echo to Jack’s earlier words. Dennis keeps his eyes on the board and suppresses a smile.

If he thinks about it too long, he’ll have to face the fact that he might be in love.

The bar they’re at is, surprisingly, not one he’s been to before. It’s a new opener, according to Trinity, who for some reason seems to be up to date on every bar or club in this damn city. Dennis doesn’t quite know how she does it. But he has to admit it’s nice enough, even if the karaoke booth they are sitting almost next to produces some rather — interesting performances at times.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this, guys, but – why are we here, exactly?” Mohan asks, looking a little desperate with a fruity orange cocktail in her hand and a rather intricate crown reading Birthday Girl placed on her frazzled hair. Trinity had been pissed to learn that Mohan had managed to keep her birthday hidden for almost two years of them working together, so once she had gotten ahold of the date, she had sworn to Mohan that this year she’d be forced to celebrate. There are only two months left until her residency at PTMC finishes, either way, and whilst she had been offered a job as an attending, Dennis knows that there are still some fellowship offers available to her that she’s pondering on. In a way, he figures  Trinity is also preparing for a goodbye.

A rather sadistic goodbye, judging by Mohan’s miserable look. 

“Nothing quite like celebrating a birthday by getting wasted at a bar and doing some karaoke.” Trinity says, fully confident as she downs her second shot of the night. Her own cocktail sits next to the shot glasses, but that one’s more for leisurely drinking – the shots are there to ensure she gets drunk. Quickly. 

“You say that about everything.” Victoria replies flatly, though she doesn’t look entirely unhappy as she sips on her Pina Colada. She’s grown more comfortable in bars, almost a full year of being legally allowed to drink apparently being more than enough for her to settle into the night scene. 

“So?” Trinity asks, eyebrows raised in mild annoyance. “I’m always right. You guys should simply start doing as I say, I’m clearly the only one who truly knows how to have fun here.” 

“Karaoke with you is pretty fun.” Mel quips from the corner, where she’s nursing a glass of apple juice. Her hair is open, slightly messy from when Trinity tugged her hair tie out of her braid when they entered. Dennis is surprised how pliable she is to all that – then again, her and Trinity’s friendship is a hard one to get, anyway. 

“Thank you, Mel. Finally someone who appreciates my genius.” She mimics an exaggerated bow at Mel, who looks more confused about the gesture than anything, before Trinity redirects her attention back to Mohan. “Just trust me on this, okay? It’s your birthday, you’re almost done with your residency, and if everything goes well, you won’t have an attending on your ass for a long time. What better way to celebrate than let loose? Get out some of that anger? You seem pretty pent up to me.”

She’s not wrong. Mohan has been on edge even more than usual, the weight of choosing her future weighing heavily on her. Dennis knows that Robby isn’t entirely uninvolved in this, either – whilst returning from his sabbatical had made him mellow out a little towards her, it’s easy to tell that Robby’s opinion of her is still a sore spot for Mohan and her confidence. It’s unnecessary, at least in Dennis’ opinion. She’s a brilliant doctor, and with time, he has no doubt she will match their chief attending’s abilities. 

“I’m not—”  Mohan starts, but trails off with a sigh as she’s met with disbelieving looks around the table. “Fine, maybe I am. But how is getting drunk at a karaoke bar going to help that?”

“Not just getting drunk at a karaoke bar. Getting drunk at a karaoke bar and singing. Very important part. Get your rage out.” Trinity shoves Mohan’s drink into her hand, pointing at it with the expression of a strict teacher. “Drink. All of it. And once it’s empty, Mel and I are gonna show you how it’s done.”

“M-me?” Mel asks, startled. Trinity throws an arm around her shoulder, tugging her into her side with a grin. 

“Of course you. You have the spirit of a rebel in you, Mel. We’re gonna spread this to our dear Samira here before the night is over.”

Mohan looks more than a little apprehensive, but after a moment of consideration, she seems to succumb to the peer pressure. She downs her drink with a long sigh, grimacing as she sets her glass down, and stands up with determination.

“Alright, let’s — let’s do it.”

Trinity lets out a whoop and slides out of the booth, dragging both Mel and Mohan towards the karaoke stage by their elbows. Dennis watches them with fascinated amusement. Trinity shoves them up on stage, slipping over towards the owner to request a song whilst the other girls fiddle with the microphones. 

“This is gonna be a mess.” Victoria whispers and slides closer to him. She fidgets with her phone, giving him a small grin. “Do you think Mohan is gonna rip my head off if I film this?”

“I wouldn’t try her.” Dennis grimaces. “But then again, I’m not you. You’re much braver than I am.”

“Thanks.” Victoria says with a laugh, but leaves her phone on the table. The song starts, a girly pop song that Dennis doesn’t recognise. 

“So.” Dennis starts, taking a long sip from his own drink – a pink lady, which happens to be his favourite, much to the delight of Trinity and her endless gay twink jokes. “Your intern year starts soon. Are you excited to be back?”

“Kind of. I’m also terrified.” Victoria laughs, eyes wide. “Any wise words from a departing intern?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I have much on you here. You’ll do just fine. Besides, I’m entering my R2, and from everything I’ve seen from Santos, I should be just as terrified.” 

“Nah, you’ll do well. You might embarrass yourself every other week, but you aren’t going to be running behind on charts like Santos did.” 

“Wow, thanks.” Dennis snorts. On stage, Trinity and Mel are yelling their hearts out into a micro they share between them, whilst Mohan is whipping her head back and forth, the crown flinging from her head into the crowd of cheering people. She looks oddly free.

“Anyway, how are things going with – Luke, was it?” Victoria asks. For some reason, she’s pretty caught up on his conquests despite her swearing disinterest every time Trinity tries to drag her into her ribbings. 

“Ah. He’s not – I kinda ended things with him.”

“Oh? I thought it was going pretty well. He seemed like a nice guy, from what you told.”

“He was.” Dennis shrugs, averting his gaze. 

“So what happened?”

“His sister was coming to visit Pittsburgh. He asked me to meet her.”

“Oh.” Victoria nods, awkwardly. “So it got too real for you?”

“Kind of. It seemed a bit too quick, but judging by his disappointed look, that’s what he was going for. I feel bad, but – it seemed meaner to string him along.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Not that I’d know.” She eyes him nervously, lips parting over and over again as if she’s struggling for words. “Santos seems worried. Like, genuinely. Are you…okay?”

“Yes.” He says, more out of reflex than anything else. Truthfully, he isn’t sure how he is. Luke was a nice guy. They had great dates, great sex, and good talks. On paper, everything about him was right. Pulling the plug on him because he wanted him to meet his sister after six weeks seemed excessive. Hypocritical, too, looking at how he rushed into his last – thing.

But maybe, that was the problem.

“Do you – ” He starts, before fading off. “Do you ever feel like you’re chasing after something that’s lost to you?”

“What do you mean?” Victoria frowns.

“I don’t know. It’s – ” He sighs. Other than Trinity, nobody knows about what transpired between him, Robby, and Jack, for obvious reasons. It doesn’t make finding the right words easier. “I had a thing before Luke. Before all this started, going to bars every weekend. I was the one who put an end to it, but I still feel – hung up. Even if it wasn’t good for me.”

“Oh.” Victoria stays silent for a while. On stage, Samira yells out another song request to the owner, who seems to be amused enough to heed her request despite the informal delivery. “Have you considered that maybe that’s why it’s not working out for you now?”

“Well, obviously. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that. I mean it more like – whatever you had, you clearly aren’t over it. Maybe you need to sit on that before you try to find it, or anything, in someone else.”

“Oh.” Dennis blinks. He hasn’t thought of it like that, not yet. It seems stupid now that Victoria addresses it; it’s a rather straightforward approach. Obvious.

It still makes Dennis’ stomach churn.

The hook ups might have been exhausting and annoying at times, but they fulfilled one purpose: they fill a hole. A hole that is distinctly JackandRobby shaped, one that makes him sulk in his room and barely resist the urge to go back and grovel. He hasn’t been quite ready to face that hole yet. 

Dennis is not unfamiliar with avoidance. It’s a tactic he’s had to live with, especially as the youngest brother of a family in rural Nebraska, and he knows it’s a tendency he’s carried even into his residency. But even then, he’s had to face some uncomfortable truths in his life, made decisions that had led him to believe that he’s gotten past some of it. 

Apparently, he’s wrong. Thinking of confronting that hole, that clusterfuck of hurt and convoluted emotions that Robby and Jack have left him with, makes him want to quit his job and return to his family’s farm to live a life in solitude forever. Trinity would roll her eyes and pinch his arm at his dramatics, but it’s true. He feels like shit, of course, using a nice guy like Luke to fill a void he’s unwilling to mend or leave behind, but that is exactly what he’s after. 

And that, in all honesty, is also why it hasn’t worked so far.

Huh.

“I guess you are right.” Dennis mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the toothpick next to his glass. 

“So…are you gonna change your tactics?”

“Probably not.”

Victoria huffs, and takes another sip of her Pina Colada. 

“Alright, fair enough. If you come to work with another hickey, though, Doctor J will feature you in one of her upcoming tiktoks about inappropriate behaviour at work.”

“Hey – ” Dennis protests, sputtering, even as Victoria stands up and yanks him out of the booth with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Nope, no more of that. Let’s join the others on stage before they headbang their way into the ED tonight.”

Without giving him a chance to further protest, Victoria drags him up to the stage, where they are forced to join a pretty adventurous rendition of “Only Girl In The World.” 

By the end of the night, Dennis has a solo of “My Heart Will Go On” under his belt, sung with way too much alcohol in his system and Mohan’s discarded birthday girl crown on his head. 

All in all, it’s a pretty good party. 

When Dennis rouses from his dozing and sits up in Robby’s bed, blinking away the remnants of sleep in his eyes, he’s alone. 

That’s not particularly surprising: with their differing sleeping schedules they’d established early on that whoever gets to sleep is left to sleep, and if the others can’t be quiet and shut up during that time, they leave. It’s worked well so far. Except Dennis hasn’t exactly planned on knocking out in the first place. It’s late afternoon now, and judging by his estimates and a quick glance at his phone, he’s slept for at least three hours. That’s unusual for him, even on off days. 

Dennis heaves himself out of the sheets with a soft sigh and looks for a pair of boxers to throw on. These days, he’s not particularly picky about who they belong to. He doesn’t feel sticky, or gross, so they must have somewhat cleaned him up before letting him sleep. To his surprise, he can’t remember any of that. 

He hears their voices from the living room as soon as he steps out of the room, echoing over the droning TV. Now that he’s in the hallway, he’s starting to wonder how that noise didn’t wake him in the first place. Dennis quietly makes his way to them, stepping carefully in order not to make any noise. 

The couch is turned away from the hallway, so sneaking always gives him an excellent view of whoever is sitting there. It’s not always that he’s compelled to observe, but something about today makes him lean against the sturdy wood of the wide doorframe and stare.

Jack and Robby are both leisurely dressed, wearing wide shirts and even wider shorts as they lounge on the couch. They aren’t exactly cuddling, but they are entangled. Jack has his stump resting on a pillow just the way he prefers it, but his other leg is thrown over Robby’s, their ankles knocking together every so often when one of them moves. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable from afar, but from his own experience, Dennis knows that it is. Robby has his arm thrown over the back of the couch behind Jack, not quite touching, but hovering. They’re bickering over some rerun of a show, again, one of the older ones that they both grew up with and that Dennis refused to let himself get roped into watching. With both Trinity and them trying to make up for his years of living behind the moon, as Trinity loves to call it, his brain is gonna be swamped with pop culture before he knows it. So he’s selective in what he allows all of them to make him watch.

Seeing them like that makes him feel – many things. It’s difficult to dissect, at this point, which set alarm bells off in his head weeks ago, hell, months ago, that he’s in too deep. None of this was ever supposed to be complicated. But things have changed. Not just for him, but between them, too. Dennis doesn’t know everything about their past, hell, he doesn’t even know about half of it, but what he does know is that they were both insistent on being casual when he entered this thing with them.

It’s a ridiculous notion, in hindsight, because nothing about the both of them is casual. They’re two sides of one whole, day and night, quite literally with their opposing shifts. They have known each other for decades, been friends for most of that time and forced to rely on each other for even longer. Robby’s seen Jack lose his wife and helped him when the PTSD got worse, and Jack has done his fair share of talking Robby off the roof in his lifetime. They love each other. Whether they insist that’s romantic or not doesn’t seem to matter in the end.

And yet somehow, with him in the mix, the already blurred lines seem to have decimated. The three of them spend most of their free time together now, coordinated or not, drawn to each other by some sort of unspoken yearning. There’s still lots of sex, of course, there’s no denying that when Dennis got fucked into an extended nap just hours ago. But the focus has shifted. Fucking doesn’t seem to be the purpose of this anymore. Fun isn’t, either. It’s more – intimate. They haven’t said anything about that, of course. Robby might be the most avoidant and unstable person Dennis has ever met, and for all the talks Jack swings about going to therapy, he’s pretty sure his scandalous three way situationship with his best friend and their intern would give his therapist a proper heart attack, so he assumes Jack hasn’t talked about them yet. 

And Dennis?

He’s way out of his depth. He’s wise enough to admit that, at least. The fleeting inkling about being in love with both of them has formed into a terrifying certainty, but that remains about the only bit of clarity he has. Dennis doesn’t have much experience with relationships to begin with, though he figures that even a more extended dating history wouldn’t have prepared him for this. Even if he voiced that he wanted more, maybe exclusivity, or even a relationship, what could that look like? There’s three of them there, and they all work together. They couldn’t tell HR about it. Dennis isn’t sure what they are doing is exactly illegal, but he is pretty sure it’d be judged. Heavily. Trinity already isn’t their biggest fan, but she puts up with his secret because she loves him, despite her tough interior. What would someone else think of him, someone who might have a less charitable outlook on his character?

He’s startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Robby laughing. It’s a deep, beautiful thing, one free of his usual burdens and walls. Jack’s arm has now migrated to Robby’s thigh and wandered underneath his shorts, absentmindedly stroking the skin with his thumb. They look – like a unit. Something in Dennis twinges at the sight.

They have multiple things on him, he knows that. They are both his bosses, above him in both status and experience. They are also older than him, significantly so. Trinity has drilled that into him on the very first day she found out about their arrangement, and whilst Dennis logically sees the potential issues in that, he minds these factors the least. They have found a way to not bring it into work, miraculously, and he’s never felt like they’ve held this over him outside of it. In fact, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by this. A therapist would have a feast with his daddy issues, but he’d much rather get fucked until he cries before he dissects all of that.

What truly gets to him is the past they share. There’s a bond between them, steady and beautiful and Dennis feels privileged to witness it, truly. But it’s also hard to overlook that he can’t catch up to that. No matter how open he is, no matter how vulnerable they are with him, there’s no comparing to decades of history, to all the nights they shared and the feelings that built out of that. Ironically, he is aware that bringing him into this seems to have strengthened their bond. 

It’s just starting to dawn on him that maybe he can’t do more than that, in all of this.

And maybe that makes him selfish. If he were a good person, the one that everyone always insists on him being, he’d do what’s best for both of them. Give them a final push, morph whatever they are teetering on into full on commitment, and remove himself from the equation. It’d certainly be better for them. Easier.

But then Robby sinks further into the couch, his face relaxing into something more serene, and Jack’s fingers dance over his body instead of finding their way to his stump and rubbing at sore spots, because for once, he’s not in pain. 

Dennis isn’t quite ready to give that up yet.

Like a siren’s call he steps closer, now unbothered to hide his presence from them. Robby sees him first, his smile widening as he nudges Jack to get his attention. They both make space for him without thinking, and once in reach, Jack tugs him between them, nuzzling his nose into Dennis’ hairline.

“You reek.” He mumbles, and Dennis can’t help but laugh.

“That’s kind of your fault, you know?”

“And he’s proud of it, Den. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.” Robby chimes in, locking his free arm securely over Dennis’ waist. Dennis settles in by pure instinct, tucking his face into Robby’s shirt and playing with Jack’s fingers that are resting on his hip.

“I’m hungry.” He mumbles. The chest below him quivers as Robby laughs.

“I can imagine. We burnt you out good this time, sweetheart. You knocked right out.”

“At least we’re disproving our old man status.” Jack sounds amused as he shuffles behind them, reaching for something on the couch table. “Takeout?”

“Really? What happened to making me buy all that fresh shit so my house feels more lived in? Thought you were gonna make me cook every night from now on?”

“Tomorrow.” Dennis groans. “We’ll make you cook starting tomorrow. Tonight I want pizza and ice cream.”

“Your wish is my command, Whit.” Jack pinches the soft skin of his hip, just lightly, before he turns away and takes his phone in both hands, presumably to order. Robby scoffs, but doesn’t actually protest, instead opting to turn up the volume of the TV as he gently scratches at Dennis’s scalp in the way he likes it.

Dennis will stop being selfish, eventually.

It’s been roughly two weeks of seeing Trent. He’s…nice. A little guarded, for sure, but overall a good guy. Nothing much has happened between them except for a few makeout sessions, but it’s fine. The time together is nice, and Dennis knows what they are building up to. In a way, it’s cute, not being the shy one for once. He’s not particularly used to being the more experienced one in the equation.

He hasn’t stopped his pursuit of hookups since his talk with Victoria, but he has been more clear about what he’s looking for. Everyone he meets gets told right away that he’s only aiming for something casual, in order to avoid breaking any more hearts. It’s deeply ironic, looking at how his last casual thing with Jack and Robby ended up, but at least he’s taking some precautions. It’ll have to be enough.

They’re at Trent’s place tonight, watching a movie. It’s the first time they’ve ever met in a nonpublic place, and the process of agreeing on one of their apartments has been an interesting one. Usually Dennis has Trinity as a perfectly valid excuse on why they can’t go to his, but she’s out of town this week, so that falls away. Telling the plain truth, which is that he simply doesn’t want anyone to get too intimately involved in his life by seeing where he lives, feels — rude. So he flails, and stutters. Usually it doesn’t take much convincing, but Trent had flailed and stuttered right back. Dennis almost felt bad when he eventually gave in, but as they sit on his couch, a movie running in the background and a bowl of chips between them, already half empty, he tries to tell himself that it’s fine. Trent had agreed, after all. Seemed far more pliable to that than to Dennis’ awkward proposition to keep meeting in public and see how it goes. But now that they’re here, shoulders and thighs pressed together on the couch, something feels – off. 

The thing is, Dennis is pretty sure they are gonna have sex tonight. It seemed like the premise for the first night alone together, without having to sneak kisses and make out sessions in semi public places where they could still get caught. Not that sex is a prerequisite, per say, but the signs had been there. From both of their sides. Or at least, Dennis thought so. Now that they’re here, with Dennis being shifty and Trent being – stiff, he’s second guessing all of that.

Maybe Trinity is not wrong when she calls him a sex crazed slut. Dennis glances at Trent, who’s staring into the bottom of his beer bottle like he’s far, far away. Maybe Dennis has to add jerk to Trinity’s name list for him. 

“Look.” Dennis starts with a sigh. “If this isn’t working for you, I can go home.”

Trent blinks and takes a breath, then his gaze snaps to Dennis, like he’s been snapped out of a trance.

“No! No. You don’t need to leave. I want you here.”

“No offence, but – it doesn’t seem like it. You’re all–” Dennis mentions up and down his body, covering up the awkwardness with a forced chuckle. “It’s okay, Trent. I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. If I rushed you, or – forced you, in any way.”

“You didn’t.” Trent mumbles, and fixes him with an equally forced smile. The look in his eyes is still hard. “Really, Dennis, you’re good.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Trent places his beer bottle on the table and fully turns to Dennis, cupping his face into his hands and pulling him into a kiss. This part should be familiar. Dennis tries to focus on that as he parts his lips and places his hands on Trent’s shoulders.

It’s still off. Trent is tense underneath his hands, twitchy and hard where he usually yielded under Dennis’ touch. Dennis frowns, and rubs soothingly over his back, attempting to ease him into it. He tries to pull back on the kiss, as well, but Trent won’t let him back up, chasing his lips until Dennis is half lying on the armrest of the couch and Trent is hovering over him. It’s clear that he’s trying, going through the motions with each kiss, but the forcedness behind it makes Dennis falter.

Quite frankly, he wants to leave. As he absentmindedly returns the kisses, he thinks of ways to let the poor guy down gently and get the fuck out of there.

On top of him, Trent shifts, bringing one of his legs between Dennis’ awkwardly sprawled legs. Trent kisses him more forcefully, and then, the leg grinds against his crotch, roughly. Dennis isn’t aroused, not with the levels of tension in him, but he groans either way, a mix of instinct and surprise. Trent pulls away and stares down at him. His pupils are blown now, and he’s breathing way too heavily for the amount of kissing they just did. There’s a wild look in his eyes that’s reminiscent of a cornered animal.

“That shit turns you on, doesn’t it?” He rasps, voice lowered into a growl. It’s deeper, a tone Dennis hasn’t heard from him yet. He squirms.

“N-not really – ” He starts, but Trent uses his position on top of him to hold him down, shutting him up mid sentence.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Dennis assures. Confusion and mild discomfort is starting to make way for proper anxiety. He’s never seen the man act like this before, and with him being in a vulnerable position under him, Dennis isn’t liking his chances. “You’re off, today, Trent, and I don’t–”

“I’m not off.” Trent snaps, pressing onto Dennis’s shoulders with a bruising grip that has him wincing. “There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you.” Dennis pushes against the hold on his shoulders. He tries to keep a straight face, unwilling to let his quelling fear show. If there’s one thing the ER has taught him is that situations like this require calm steadiness. “How about we sit and talk, okay? Or I can leave. Maybe I should – ”

“What, pussying out now? Like you weren’t gagging to have my dick shoved up your ass a few minutes ago?” Trent sneers. “You’re disgusting. Fucking faggot.”

Dennis blinks. His head reels with surprise, completely thrown off kilter by the turn of events. He blurts out the next words before he can think about it.

“But you’ve been dating me. You’ve been kissing me. Clearly you’re ga–”

Trent’s fist connects with his face, and his head snaps to the side with a dull crack. He groans as white blinding pain spreads from his nose to his cheekbone, hot liquid soon dribbling down his face. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly is broken, but Dennis is pretty sure that something is.

“Shut. Up.” Trent huffs, and clearly Dennis has hit a spot, because the guy on top of him doesn’t look mildly agitated anymore. He looks furious. “I’m nothing like you. You think I enjoyed this? No. I look for whores like you. Degenerates who try to corrupt good men. What I do with you, it’s – it’s a sacrifice, to get you here, to teach you a lesson – ”

The notion is laughable. Except Dennis really, really, doesn’t feel like laughing. Trent is still on top of him, and whether he’s truly a deranged homophobe or a homophobe who’s deeply in the closet, that doesn’t make much difference for the danger Dennis is in. He needs to get out.

“L-lesson learnt.” Dennis gasps, grasping at desperate straws. “I won’t do this anymore, okay? I promise. Just let me go.”

“I didn’t tell you to speak, freak!” 

Another punch lands on his face, followed by another one. Then another. Dennis moans, in clear pain this time. The ringing in his head makes it hard to think, but he has to think of something – anything.

“P-please.” He slurs, squinting his eyes open through the pain to look up at Trent. He looks gone. Clearly, whatever has snapped in him has nothing to do with Dennis and everything to do with himself. In some fucked up way, Dennis can relate. But it’s hard to emphasise when he’s getting the shit beaten out of him. 

It gets worse when Trent’s free hand goes for his throat. It tightens like a vice, fingernails digging into his throat without much finesse or technique. It’s brute force, but it works, and Dennis’ eyes shoot open as he gasps for air, to no avail. 

“You’re all the same. Fucking freaks. Pathetic. Weak. Corrupt. I’m nothing like you.” Trent spits. It sounds almost like a mantra, like he’s going through the motions of convincing himself more than anything. The lack of air is getting to Dennis, quickly, the haze of pain now adding a layer of dizziness to it. Miraculously, that kickstarts his body out of impassiveness. He finally starts struggling, for good, and whilst Trent has the physical advantage of being taller and on top of him, Dennis has his arms free. He scrambles upwards, clawing at the hand on his throat in an effort to get it off him. That only seems to agitate Trent further, because he tightens the hold, delivering one more slap to his face on top of it.

“You bitch!” He roars, face red and sweaty with sheer anger, and fuck. It’s scary. Dennis is scared. He wheezes for air, and his eyes fill with tears. “You’re scum, you’re garbage, you’re fucking worthless! You – you tainted me! I’m gonna make you pay for that!”

Dennis barely listens to him. Instead, he starts trashing harder, the adrenaline pushing him to use every bit of strength he has to get out of his position. Trent is forced to shift, but doesn’t ease up on his throat, and his legs have Dennis’ own in a tight hold. He doesn’t move his hands, though, too lost in blind rage to think properly. Dennis’ eyes dart around, desperate for something, anything, to get him out of this. His eyes fall on his own beer bottle, empty and alone on the couch table. 

With his last ounce of adrenaline fueled strength, he goes for it. Trent’s eyes follow him, and the surprise momentarily makes him ease his grip, but Dennis doesn’t falter. He grabs the bottle by its neck and smashes it upwards against Trent’s temple. It doesn’t shatter, but it makes a satisfying thud as it collides with his head. Trent finally, finally, lets up, scrambling back as he holds his own face with a groan.

“Fuck!” 

Dennis inhales, and fresh air starts filling his lungs again. He gasps greedily, the oxygen momentarily easing the dizziness and giving him a sickening feeling of relief. The weight on top of him shifts as Trent falls back onto his side of the couch, curling up and moaning in pain. A small part of Dennis, the one that whispers do no harm at him even now, wants to help, but the rest just wants to get the fuck out. So he bolts. He untangles his legs from where they are still awkwardly entwined in Trent’s and stumbles towards the exit, sparing the man behind him no further glance. Agitated groans and curses follow him through the door, and he only fiddles with the handle for a second before it springs open. Dennis blindly reaches for his jacket, which is still dangling on the hanger right next to it, and then he runs. Out of the apartment, down the floor and down the stairs, out of the complex, and then further, further, away, away.

He only stops when he’s forced to, his lungs screaming for air which his rapid and ragged breaths can’t supply. He leans against a building and wheezes, clutching his chest. In, out. In, out. 

Slowly, the pressure on his chest eases. Dennis’ hand moves up to his throat, and winces at the soreness he finds there. Probably swollen. If it swells any further and presses more onto his airway, he’s in deep shit.

A wave of nausea overcomes him, and he almost keels over. He can’t throw up. Not now. He might not be safe yet. He glances back to where he’s come from, panicked, but there’s nobody. He can only hope that Trent won’t follow him here – nevermind the concussion he probably has, hunting Dennis down on the streets would be risky. Then again, it’s late and dark outside, without many people on the street. They had both agreed on starting their date later in the evening. Dennis is now starting to wonder whether that was on purpose. 

With shaking hands he pats the back of his jeans for his phone. It’s still in his back pocket, much to his relief, despite his early struggling. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s just past 12.

Dennis swipes past his lockscreen and opens his contact list. Trinity’s name pops up under recent calls, and it’s enough to knock a shuddering sob from Dennis’ chest.

He can’t call her like this. She’s not even in town, cannot help him, and he’d only freak her out calling her in this shape.

Besides, she’d told him.

She’d warned him.

He scrolls further down, eyes flying over multiple contacts and names, all people who’d no doubt be there for him in seconds. None of them he wants to talk to right now.

Further down, his eyes catch on a name. He hesitates.

Then, with a jerk of his thumb, Dennis hits the call button.