Chapter Text
Dennis
***
The text came while he was at Robby’s, both of them sprawled on the couch watching ZeFrank on youtube discuss puffins in the most hysterical way possible. One second he’d been giggling like a teenager about puffin mating dances, and the next it felt as though the rug had been pulled from under his feet.
He couldn’t breathe.
Everything else whited out, and there was only his shuddering breaths, and the feeling of shame-grief-relief churning in his gut, and the panic that he’d have to go back-
There was a hand on the back of his neck, large and warm and gentle, a hand that he knew, instinctively, to press closer to rather than flinch away from. The scent of cedar reached his nose through his ragged, struggling breaths and he wanted to drown in it. Then the voice registered in his ears, low and soft but authoritative in a way that Dennis couldn’t ignore - didn’t want to.
“-eathe, just like that. In, and out. Nice and slow. Good job, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you-”
It was everything Dennis ever wanted to hear, but for all the wrong reasons. He fought the urge to collapse against Robby’s chest and sob. He needed to pull himself together and get through this. He’d been through worse. Nothing came to mind in the moment, but still. He could do this.
He followed Robby’s instructions and slowed his breathing, trying to ignore the flare of pleasure that Robby’s hum of approval gave him.
“What happened?” Robby asked, when Dennis’s heart rate had finally dropped out of triple digits. “Everything okay?”
Rather than answer, Dennis handed Robby his phone, still on the text he’d received.
Jacob 7:43 - dad’s gone. Funeral’s on Friday. It’ll kill mom if you’re not there. Don’t be an ass
Robby was silent for a long moment. Then, “I’m so sorry, Whitaker.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Dennis’s throat. It probably looked so normal. Kid crying at the loss of his parent. Such a simple thing.
The reality was far more complex.
“Yeah. Thanks. Look, I should go-” He stood abruptly, blinking hard to keep his eyes clear, struggling not to break down and scream at the unfairness of it all, his mind already on things like rental cars and loan interest rates.
“Hey, wait- no, I don’t think you should try to get home like this,” Robby protested, grabbing Dennis’s wrist. Dennis looked down at the fingers curled around him, the skin a darker complexion than his own, fine hair dusted over it, masculine, competent hands that had guided Dennis so often.
It went against every urge in his body but he tried to pull away. The fingers tightened. “No, I need to - I’ve gotta-” His breath was coming fast again, sobs welling up with greater force than he could push back down. If he didn’t get out of there now, if he had to look at those kind, dark eyes for one second longer-
“Dennis, don’t.”
And that was it. His shoulders hunched, curling in on himself as though he could simply disappear, vanish from existence. The tears were impossible to blink away, they just poured over his lids and down his cheeks as his chest shook with the force of it.
“Shit-” And then there were arms around him, and it was everything he’d ever wanted and he could hardly even fully appreciate it, because it felt as though the world was collapsing and all Dennis could do was cry. Robby had stood at some point, and pulled Dennis close, held him against a broad, warm chest that Dennis had dreamed of so many nights. His hands were rubbing up and down Dennis’s back. “I’ve got you,” Robby whispered, voice rough. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
And for one weak and selfish moment, Dennis let himself believe that.
***
They were sitting on the couch, and Dennis wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He was bundled in Robby’s arms like a child. It was disconcerting. It was also the closest Dennis thought he’d ever felt to heaven.
He knew he was taking advantage. Of Robby’s compassion, of their relationship, of everything, but Dennis didn’t pull away. He stayed, until his chest had stopped heaving, and his tears were starting to dry on Robby’s t-shirt, and those beautiful, low murmurs had tapered off.
Only then did he go to move away. Robby’s arms tightened around him for a moment, one hand on his spine, the other cradling the back of his head, keeping him close, but then they fell away, and Dennis scooted until there were a respectable few inches between them.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Robby said immediately, not knowing that Dennis wasn’t apologizing for his break down - he was apologizing for capitalizing on Robby’s sympathy. He shook his head, but didn’t push the issue. “Was he sick?”
Dennis laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. “Depends on how you define ‘sick,’” he muttered. “Not really in any way I’m aware of. I assume he didn’t stop drinking after I left, but…”
“I’m sorry,” Robby said again. And Dennis shook his head.
“I’m not sure I am.”
Robby stilled. Dennis suddenly wished he knew more about Robby’s personal life, knew if he’d had a good relationship with his own parents, or if they’d been distant. If there was any chance that Robby might understand Dennis’s feelings, or if he was going to be branded as an ungrateful little prick the way everyone else had decided he was.
“He was a shitty dad,” Dennis pushed on recklessly. “I haven’t been home in years because the last time I went, he got drunk and tried to burn the queer out of me.”
“What the fuck.”
Dennis laughed again. “I told my brother that the next time I stepped foot in Nebraska it would be to piss on his grave. I guess he took that literally.”
There was a long silence. Robby scrubbed a hand over his face. “Are you actually going to go?”
“I don’t know.” Dennis wiped a few stray tears away bitterly. “Jacob’s right, it’ll kill my ma if I’m not there. She… she tried her best. To make peace. To do the right thing, as far as she could see it. She sacrificed a lot to get me as far as she did. I owe her this. But flights are obscenely expensive into Grand Island or Broken Bow, and if I go into Eppley, the mileage on a rental will be outrageous, and I’ve got a whole fucking hundred and thirty dollars to my name because the hospital insurance only covers a fraction of my prescription costs, and I really, really don’t want to go back to not taking-”
“Hey, don’t worry about that right now. And definitely don’t stop taking any prescriptions just because of money issues.”
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have money issues,” Dennis muttered, and immediately regretted it. Ungrateful little shit, he heard growled in his father’s voice. “Sorry, that was unfair.”
But Robby didn’t look angry. He looked sad. “No, you’re right. I get it. But just - please, don’t make the decision of whether or not to go to your father’s funeral based on money. You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“Well, unless I win the lottery-”
“I could-”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Dennis croaked. Christ, that would be just what he needed. Student loans, medical debt, credit cards, and a loan from his fucking boss. Dennis was pretty sure he’d keel over from the shame and stress. “Look, I appreciate it, I really do, but I can’t take money from you. I really, really can’t. It would take me till my grave to pay it back, and I can’t live with that over my head.”
He didn’t seem happy about it, but Robby nodded. Dennis was grateful. This was difficult enough without having to argue with Robby about it.
“Maybe it’s for the best. Isaiah would flip out if he saw me again. And who knows what the farm hands know about what happened last time. They might just try and finish dad’s job.”
“You think you could be in danger, there?” Robby’s tone was sharp, and Dennis shrugged.
“No. Probably not. It’s not like I’m from the deep south in the fifties. They’re not going to string me up or pull a Matthew Shepard on me.”
Robby muttered something that Dennis couldn’t make out. He tried not to feel like a bad son for the image he was painting of his family life. His father would have been furious about him slandering the family. His mother would be mortified. But while Dennis was fairly sure that no one would commit a hate crime against him in his own hometown, he couldn’t be certain that the men who had worked for his dad wouldn’t take the chance to fulfil Mike Whitaker’s legacy by burning the mark of Cain onto his fag son’s forehead.
“Maybe it is for the best that you don’t go. You need to prioritize your own safety.”
Dennis waved the concern away, thinking out loud as his mind turned over possibilities. “I’ve got a steady income now that I could go to one of those paycheck advance places with. And there’s a chance I could get another small loan. I’m a doctor now for god’s sake, that’s got to count for something to a bank. I could…” he shook his head, dismissing the idea of selling anything - he had nothing left of value that he could sell.
“I’ve never been to Nebraska,” Robby said beside him.
Dennis blinked at him owlishly. He wasn’t surprised, really. There was a reason Nebraska was called a flyover state. Most of the people here who’d ever “been to” Nebraska had only ever had a layover in Omaha. What possible reason could Robby have ever had to visit Nebraska?
“I’d planned on a roadtrip, originally. Visiting some heritage sights. They have those in Nebraska, don’t they?”
“Uh-”
“I’m still off for another month. Plenty of time to squeeze in a trip. Aren’t there birds of some kind that only nest in middle of nowhere Nebraska?”
“Cranes, and it’s a yearly migration, but what-”
“Cranes, that’s right. Might be nice to see. I could fly out, see the cranes, fly back. Might be tough to do on my own, though.”
“What are you doing?” Dennis asked softly.
“You were willing to do me a favor and watch my place while I was gone,” Robby said mildly. “So I’m assuming you won’t think I’m overstepping if I ask you to act as a bit of a tour guide for me. Show me the sights.”
“There aren’t sights in central Nebraska. Hell, there aren’t even cranes this time of year. Robby, you can’t fly me out to my dad’s funeral under the guise of you suddenly wanting to visit bumfuck nowhere.”
“Can’t I?”
“That’s- Robby-”
Robby looked at him with raised brows, face all innocence even though Dennis could see right through him. “Robby.”
And then, Robby had to go and ruin all Dennis’s noble intentions of not taking advantage, of keeping clear boundaries, of handling everything on his own - by laying his hand on Dennis’s knee and saying so heartbreakingly earnestly, “let me help, please.”
“Fuck.”
Robby snorted a laugh, and Dennis clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. After a moment, when Robby just continued to give him that soft smile, Dennis sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
And that was that.
***
Trinity
***
Trinity wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Not because she didn’t think Dennis’s shitty fucking family deserved him dropping everything to go out to this funeral - they didn’t - and not because she felt like it was inappropriate or creepy - if she was going to worry about that line, she probably shouldn’t have appointed Huckleberry as Robby’s suicide watch - but because she wasn’t sure that either Dennis or Robby were ready for four days of alone time together.
In the last two months, she’d seen how close the pair of them had gotten. Not the way she and Robby were close, two jagged edges that could fit together and understand each other. No, Dennis was something softer, something that Trinity knew Robby ached for. She knew it because it was what she craved, when she was being fully, brutally honest with herself.
Someone who would be gentle with her, see her, faults and all, and still want her, every single jagged bit. Someone she could rely on for comfort, someone sweet instead of sharp. She’d been forced to face that truth, after Yolanda. Trinity had been convincing herself for years that what she wanted was someone tough like she was, someone unemotional, brusque even. And then she’d gotten it and found that she couldn’t handle it. She needed more.
Robby, ironically enough, had started to fill that need in the last few months. Not in any sexual way - gag her with a fucking spoon - but something deeper. A shrink would probably have a field day with it, something about her shitty childhood and lack of paternal figure and seeking love and acceptance that she never got, but whatever. She didn’t really care what the reason was. She just knew that having Robby there for her, someone she knew she could rely on, someone who wouldn’t push her away no matter how hard she raged, someone who called her bullshit but wasn’t disgusted by it, someone who offered her hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on-
Yeah, it helped. It helped a lot. But she also knew that Robby didn’t really have anyone like that in his life. And as much as she wished she could be different, she couldn’t be that for him the way he was for her. Time had softened his edges just enough to be able to put aside his own issues when the moment called for it -mostly- and be able to support the person struggling. He was empathetic in a way she wasn’t, patient in a way she wasn’t.
But Dennis- Dennis could be exactly what Robby needed, despite all the suffering he’d endured. Dennis was exactly that sweet, soft thing that could press against jagged edges and not be punctured, could seep in and settle in a person’s bones. Dennis wanted to help, would give you the shirt off his back even if it was his only one. And almost worse, knowing his history, his family, the things he’d overcome to get here, it made people want to be good back to him.
In a perfect world, Dennis would support Robby, and comfort him in his darkest moments, and Robby would let him and would start to heal. And Robby would take care of Dennis, and enjoy sharing his life with someone who understood the pressures of his job and his passion for it, rather than resented the demanding career. Robby would provide for Dennis, would be the security and stability that he’d never had, and the two of them would go on to have gross gay man-sex and live happily ever fucking after.
The problem, Trinity knew, was that this wasn’t a perfect world. And as much as Dennis drooled after Robby, real life wouldn’t be kind to them. Robby needed help - real, professional help. He couldn’t pin his reason to live on Dennis. It was unhealthy, and too much pressure for one person. He needed to learn to forgive himself for all the people he couldn’t save, and stop blaming himself for them. Love couldn’t fix those things. It could help, but it couldn’t fix them.
She could already see it playing out - Robby unable to bear the shame, lashing out in anger at Dennis who only wanted to help, then spiraling at treating his partner that way, pushing him away because he would be better off with someone else, someone not broken and bitter and worthless.
She wondered how many times the scenario had already played out, through Robby’s life.
And that wasn’t the only hurdle.
Robby wouldn’t think it was right, dating an intern. Yes, Dennis was a doctor now, but one who was still relying on Robby to teach him and give him good references after his R4. She knew that the only reason he’d been comfortable dating Dr. Collins was that she’d been supervised by a different attending while they were together. That, and he’d been a mess right after Adamson’s death. He was a mess now too, but Dennis was younger than Heather had been, and would again be Robby’s direct subordinate at the Pitt whenever he came back, and there was something else there, something she hadn’t been able to pry out of Dennis but that she could sense like a bruise beneath the surface, something that tied the two of them in a way she didn’t quite understand.
Her fear was that this time together would take their sexual tension and ratchet it up to a hundred, and then if one of them broke and gave in, Robby would blame himself and hate himself for it.
And he’d break Dennis’s fucking heart in the process.
The problem was that there wasn’t much she could do about it. Dennis had already been given bereavement leave. Trinity was picking up two doubles to help fill the gap, though having two attendings on did make it easier when someone called out. Robby had already bought the tickets, PIT to OMA, and then OMA to GRI. They were supposed to have gotten another flight from GRI to BBW directly into Broken Bow, but apparently a series of wildfires had put the single runway airport out of commission for the moment.
What kind of city had a single runway airport, anyway?
She didn’t like that they’d have to rent a car and drive the rest of the way to the crappy town where Dennis had escaped from. Didn’t like that there was only one hotel in the actual town itself - not counting whatever the hell a Bed and Beer was twenty miles away - which meant that people would know where they were staying. People who might already have less than kind intentions with Dennis, and definitely wouldn’t appreciate him showing up with a man in tow.
She worried, about them spending all that time together, alone. About them sharing a hotel room - because she’d made Robby promise not to let Dennis out of his fucking sight for one minute while they were there. Worried about how difficult this would be for Dennis, and how he might seek comfort. About how Robby would react to that.
She worried even as she dropped them off at the airport, hugging Dennis fiercely and then scowling at him as though to try and convince him that she didn’t even really like him all that much. She punched Robby in the shoulder and huffed when he pulled her in for a hug instead.
“You keep him safe, and bring him back,” she ordered softly.
“I will,” Robby promised. And Trinity knew at least that much would be true. Whatever else happened, Robby would protect him and bring him home.
She just hoped they wouldn’t break something important and fragile between them in the process.
***
Robby
***
The flight into Omaha was as mundane and irritating as every other flight. Eppley wasn’t the busiest airport Robby had ever been in by far, but it was a decent sized place considering it was in Nebraska. Catching their connecting flight was simple enough, especially since both of them only had carryon bags. Robby had thought they’d want a checked case, for their funeral suits at least, but according to Dennis, Broken Bow wasn’t really the kind of place that people wore suits to funerals. At least, not a funeral like his father’s.
Touching down in Grand Island felt almost like entering another world. Omaha had seemed similar enough - Robby had been surprised to learn that the city was actually bigger than Pittsburgh - but Grand Island was a fraction of the size of town Robby was used to, and in a lot of ways it showed. The airport was tiny, with just two runways. There was only one other person on their flight aside from the staff, an old man that didn’t say a single word the entire flight. When they stepped into the lobby, it was empty. It looked like something out of a dystopian show, a building abandoned but not decaying yet, quiet as a church yard. Robby felt lucky that there was even a Hertz there for them to rent a car from.
They packed their bags into the back seat of the Ford Edge that Robby had upgraded to when Dennis told him they’d need the all wheel drive to get out to the farm.
Thankfully, it had a full tank, and they wouldn’t need to stop again to make it the last eighty miles to Broken Bow.
“It’s not as flat as I thought it would be,” Robby commented, as he pulled onto - Robby almost laughed out loud at the on-the-nose naming - Old Highway 2.
“Not in the city. Out in the sandhills, that’s where it gets flatter. Dryer, too.”
Robby glanced over, noting the way Dennis’s forehead was leaned against the car window, his eyes downcast. “You okay, kid?”
Dennis shrugged. “As I can be, I guess.”
“If you wanna nap or anything, you can. You said it’s pretty much a straight shot into town, so-”
Dennis shook his head. “No way I’ll be able to sleep.”
“How long has it been?” Robby asked gently. “Since you were back?”
“Six years.”
Robby whistled low.
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed.
“Maybe things have changed, in the time since you’ve been gone. Progress comes everywhere, even to Broken Bow, Nebraska.”
Dennis chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta stop saying it like that, unless you want everyone calling you a city slicker.”
“What? How am I saying it wrong?”
“It’s not Broken -- Bow, two separate words. You say it Brokenbow.”
“I’m almost positive it’s two words, kid.”
Dennis laughed again. “Yeah, but that’s not- it’s a Nebraska thing. Like, Norfolk. It’s spelled NorF-O-L-K but pronounced Norfork. If you show up calling it Norfolk people are going to peg you as an outsider right away.”
“Sheesh, who knew the linguistics were such a challenge in this part of the country. Any other pronunciations I should know about?”
“Not that I think they’d come up in conversation, but if you see Beatrice, it’s Be-at-rice, not uh-triss. The creek on the farm is called “the crick.” Not because there’s some thick Nebraska accent - there isn’t, and anyone that tries to tell you otherwise is a moron - but because a stream of water out on public land or someone else's property is a creek, but when it’s yours, it’s the crick and that’s just the way it is. Oh and for the love of god, whatever you do, do not call b-u-t-t-e ‘butt.’ You will literally never hear the end of it.”
Robby laughed, enjoying the smile that had finally tilted Dennis’s mouth, the teasing sparkle that had come into his eyes. “Don’t tell me you learned that lesson personally.”
“Me? No, definitely not. But there was this kid that moved to town, and the football team was going up for a match against Alliance - that’s this town like twice our size a few hours away - and it’s in Box Butte county, and I swear, you could hear a pin drop when he asked where the hell Box Butt county was. The whole school called him Buttman until graduation, I’m not even kidding.”
“Shit, tough crowd,” Robby commented, still chuckling. He could almost picture it. Small town, tiny class sizes, an everyone-knows-everyone situation. “Were you in any sports, in high school?”
“My older brothers did football, so I tried out, but-” he gestured to himself, “I’m not really linebacker material. I was a distance runner in track, but-” He cut himself off again, and subsided entirely, something sad passing over his face. “It didn’t work out.” There was a story there, Robby knew, but it didn’t look like a happy one. He didn’t press. “Did you do sports in high school? Or college?”
“You mean back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth?”
“Yeah, because the seventies were the prehistoric age,” Dennis said, rolling his eyes.
“Some baseball, a bit of basketball. My grandmother talked me into joining a competitive horseback riding team in college, but I’m nowhere near competitive enough to take sports seriously.”
“Wow, and here I thought maybe I’d get to take you for your first ride,” Dennis said, and then immediately choked and turned red. “I mean - horseback. We’ve got horses, on the farm. Or did, when I was there last. Dad hated them. Called them a waste of hay. But ma liked them and there were places that you couldn’t get to on the 4-wheeler, especially in the spring, so he kept them around.”
Robby nodded, completely ignoring the sexual innuendo that Dennis had stumbled into. No way was he going to allow himself to dwell on that while driving his twenty-eight year old employee out to his father’s funeral. Absolutely fucking not. “Well I haven’t ridden in years, so if you wanna ride, no guarantees that I don’t fall out of the saddle or something stupid. I suppose that would out me as a ‘city slicker’ just as quickly.”
Dennis chuckled, but it was a little hollow. “Yeah, probably.”
They lapsed into silence. Dennis had been right, the landscape changed drastically as they went further west. Not long after they passed a sign pointing north to a little town called Abbott - which Robby made a mental note to have Dennis take a picture of on the way back, to send to Jack - everything leveled out and shifted from relatively green to various shades of tan and brown.
The highway they were on ran somewhat parallel to the train tracks, which vaguely followed the line of a river. Robby thought that would have made everything lush, but apparently not. There were little pockets of green here and there, but mainly just flat stretches of dry grass. They passed through a handful of towns too tiny to even merit the name. Just a sign lowering the speed limit, a few dilapidated looking buildings, and then open highway again. It was a single lane, pothole riddled thing, where a traffic jam consisted of a line of three cars getting stuck behind a semi going two miles an hour under the speed limit.
Robby didn’t know what to expect when they finally pulled into Broken Bow, but the dusty John Deer dealership being the first thing visible seemed to track. A Pump and Pantry gas station, a Runza - which Dennis informed him was a Nebraska delicacy that he didn’t care for but you couldn’t say that because people would actually get offended - a faded sign for a Hardware Hank, an old Ford dealership.
As they continued on, though, things picked up again. After a slew of houses, there was a drug store, a pair of mismatched churches, a kitschy looking place called the Bonehead museum, dollar stores, and even a modern looking building that proclaimed itself as the Mid-Plains Community College. The town square had a cheery little gazebo and carefully manicured flower beds. Across the street, the brick building that housed the hotel proclaimed itself the Historic Arrow hotel.
Dennis looked up at it and sighed. “Thanks, for springing for a room,” he said quietly, studying his ragged sneakers very carefully. “I could have stayed out at my parent’s place, but-”
“Look, kid, I get it. Family shit is complicated. You don’t have to explain it to me, and I’m happy to be able to help. It sounds like that might not be the safest place for you anyway, and we both know Santos would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”
Just the mention of Santos seemed to perk Dennis up a bit, and he huffed a laugh. “Probably,” he agreed.
They checked into their double room, two uniform, generic beds side by side with a nightstand between them. Robby put his bag down on the bed nearest the door and chalked it up to old habits rather than admit that all Santos’s worries about Whitaker’s potentially ‘murderous hillbilly family’ might have him being a little overprotective.
“Do you want to go out tonight?” Robby asked, when they’d both settled in. Dennis considered, but shook his head.
“It’s late.”
It was barely ten, but Robby didn’t argue.
“It’s late for here,” Dennis corrected, sensing Robby’s disagreement without him even having to voice it. “Rural communities tend to turn in early and rise early. Everyone at the farm will be in bed by now. I don’t want to wake anyone.”
“Alright. Dinner, then?”
Dennis laughed. “Only if you brought something with you. Nothing around here is open this late.”
“Seriously?”
“The gas station is,” Dennis said. “That’s just about it.”
Robby wrinkled his nose. “Think I’ll wait for hotel breakfast rather than risk gas station food.”
“Good idea,” Dennis agreed.
***
Dennis
***
In the end, they went to bed early, slept fitfully, and ate continental waffles for breakfast along with coffee only marginally better than the stuff in the Pitt staff room.
After that, it was time to face the music. Dennis pushed down his hair and tried not to think of how his ma would fret over its length. Looked at his jeans and wondered if his brothers would make fun of the fit of them. Knew, without doubt, that the farm hands would mock how much muscle he’d lost being away from the farm.
It was almost funny, Langdon had made a comment about Dennis getting ‘buff’ but no one at the Pitt knew him back when he’d been younger, and being strong wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity. He’d lost all his muscle, not to sloth, but to malnutrition, homeless for almost a year before Trinity had taken him in and fed him up a bit. He was only just starting to regain his regular physique. But it was still nothing compared to what he’d looked like growing up - and even that had been nothing compared to the other corn-fed country boys that all loomed over him.
He had a brief moment of doubt, bringing Robby into this. He didn’t think anything crazy would happen, but these guys weren’t always polite, and to them, a broken hand was a right of passage. To someone like Robby, a broken hand could mean the end of his career.
But Dennis wouldn’t let anything get that far. He’d been anticipating the moods and read of a room for as long as he’d been able to discern that he wasn’t quite like other boys. He’d needed to, growing up with his dad, growing up in a small town, in a community with more churches than bars. He’d keep alert for any trouble and make sure they steered clear of it.
He gave Robby directions toward the farm, north of town along a winding dirt road.
“Oh, and just so you know, my, uh, my brothers may make some off-color comments about - you and me. They’re aimed at me, so just ignore them.”
“What kind of off-color comments?”
“Just like, digs about me bringing a man home. They’ll make a crack about me being queer, or something. I don’t think they’ll call you anything, though.”
“They’ll assume we’re-” Robby cut off, clearly surprised. “Even though I’m, what, twenty years older than you? Close to twenty-five?”
Dennis shrugged. “Age isn’t really that big of a deal out here. My dad was fifteen years older than Ma. My grandparents on her side were twenty two years apart. One of the kids I went to high school with married the history teacher. I guess when options are limited, folks don’t care as much.”
Robby sat with that for a moment, and then said, “but I assume me being a man would be an issue, even if the age isn’t.”
Dennis sighed. “Yeah. You could say that. I don’t mean to imply that the whole town is full of bigots and assholes, but… my family isn’t progressive. At all. Even with Ma, it’s something that’s fine for other people if they wanna live that way, so long as it’s not in front of her, and not a member of her family.”
“So she doesn’t know-”
“That I’m gay?” He shook his head. “I’m sure she does, somewhere. But she's never quite given up hope that one day I'll bring home a good Christian girl.”
“So you rolling up with a Jewish man probably isn't in her wishlist, huh.”
Dennis scoffed. “No. Definitely not. Not that she's antisemitic or anything, just-”
“It's fine for other people, but not for a member of her family?”
“Yeah,” Dennis said with a sigh. “Something like that. But don't worry, she probably won't even say anything. She's good at ignoring the things she doesn't want to see.” Even if it was dad taking his belt to Dennis hard enough to leave scars, or the way Dennis’s health had deteriorated but dad insisted that Dennis just needed to toughen up. He pushed the thought away. “It's my brother's and the farm hands that might cause trouble. I just try to ignore it. But I'm sorry in advance.”
“It's fine,” Robby dismissed.
“It’s not fine,” Dennis corrected, already angry on Robby’s behalf and nothing had even happened yet. “It’s shitty, and it’s not fair that they’re going to be making assumptions about you just because you’re associating with me.”
“Dennis, really-”
“I just mean, I understand if it bothers you, because you have every right to be bothered, and if it gets to be too much-”
“Dennis.”
Dennis stopped. Robby sighed, laughing a little with no humor in it. “Listen, I’m not saying that homophobia is okay, or that things aren’t tough out here. I’m saying that I was a queer kid in the city in the 80s, and Pittsburgh might not have been the Deep South, but it wasn’t San Francisco, either. I’ve heard it all before. Matthew Shepard was my age. None of this is new to me, and it’s not your fault even if they’re your family. Alright?”
Dennis’s mouth opened in shock. He knew it was opened - catching flies, his ma would have said - but he couldn’t quite find the brain width to close it. Because Robby-fucking-Robinavitch, Dr. Robby, Dennis’s Chief Attending and massive crush, had just admitted to being queer.
“You- you’re-”
He could be wrong, but Dennis thought he could detect the faintest hint of a blush in Robby’s ears. “Not straight? No. Kind of playing for all teams. It just… never really mattered to me. I like who I like. Not that it hasn’t been easier for me to gravitate to women for simplicity sometimes, but-” he shrugged.
“Oh,” was all Dennis could bring himself to say. He felt like his brain was rewiring itself. Like all the known laws of the universe were rewriting themselves. Like some sort of hand of divine providence had come down to sweep away all the barriers that Dennis had thought kept him and Robby worlds apart.
And yeah, he knew, logically, the fact that Robby could be attracted to men didn’t mean that he was attracted to Dennis. And there was still the issue of Robby being his boss, and the man seemed really caught up on the age thing even though Dennis definitely didn’t mind that - but still. When he’d been sure Robby was straight, there had been no chance. Now, even the slimmest, faintest, wildest chance felt like hope.
He realized that he’d been gaping for far longer than was socially acceptable. “I, uh-” He swallowed, and heard his throat click as he did. “I mean, I’m glad that it won’t be shocking - to you. Not that I’m glad you’ve heard this kind of thing before, but I mean-”
“I know what you mean,” Robby said gently, with more grace than Dennis deserved considering how long he’d been doing a trout impersonation.
They pulled up to the house, and Robby put the car in park. Turned off the engine.
Dennis tried to look at the place the way that Robby would see it. It was a 2 story square farmhouse, with faded paint and a sloping front porch. The yard was patchy. A tire swing was strung up in the oak tree, the same one that had been there since before Dennis had been born. The barn was in better shape than the house, because dad always said that since the tractors and seeds were what kept a roof over their heads, they were more important than the actual roof over their heads. Ma’s little chicken house was riddled with patches, spare lumber nailed on at various points where foxes or coyotes had gotten in over the years and had to be blocked off.
The ‘89 Ford pickup that Dennis had learned to drive on was pulled up close to the house, with a ‘town car’ parked beside it, a practical sedan that would be great on gas mileage but probably couldn’t make it down the driveway from November to April. A little farther away was Jacob’s Toyota, and behind that, another vehicle Dennis didn’t recognize. Could be Isaiah’s, but Dennis hoped it was Benjamin’s. This would go a whole lot smoother if Isaiah wasn’t already home and drinking.
Then again, maybe Ma would keep him reigned in, for once.
Probably not.
“Ready?” Robby asked quietly. He wasn’t actually sure that he was, but Dennis nodded and got out. They kicked up dust as they walked to the door. Dennis knocked. Robby stood behind him and slightly to the side. It was both comforting and terrifying.
A dog barked, there was a clatter, and then the door opened.
***
Robby
***
“Oh my sweet Lord, Denny!”
A petite woman in her mid 40s threw her arms around Dennis and hugged him tightly. From his vantage point, Robby could see tears spill over her tightly squeezed eyes. He felt something in the region of his heart clench, and he had to look away. “I- I didn’t know you were coming! Oh, Denny, baby!” She kissed his forehead and patted his chest and sniffled.
“Hi, Ma.”
“Six years, not a word, and ‘hi Ma’ is all you’ve got to say for yourself, young man?” She tsked and shook a finger in faux scolding.
“Yeah, sorry about that. But I’m here.”
“For the funeral,” the woman surmised, growing somber.
Dennis nodded. “Jacob told me when it was. I was able to get a few days off work. Actually-” he shifted, putting his arm around Robby’s back and ushering him forward slightly. “This is my boss, Robby.”
Picking up his cue, Robby held his hand out to her. “Michael Robinavitch, ma’am, but everyone calls me Robby. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Whitaker.”
The woman flushed a little, caught between pride and embarrassment. “Oh, well, the pleasure is mine, I’m sure. You’re Denny’s… boss?”
“Chief Attending at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.”
“That’s where I’m doing my residency, Ma,” Dennis interjected.
“I see.” She looked as though she very much did not see, but was too polite to say so.
“Robby’s on sabbatical, and wanted to see some historical sites and stuff. Since he was coming this direction, he was generous enough to bring me along. I figured I’d show him the Custer museum, maybe go up to Fort Hartsuff on the way back.”
She blinked, and then smiled, as though that cleared everything up. Jesus, Dennis hadn’t been joking when he said she ignored what she didn’t want to see. The excuse sounded flimsy as hell even to Robby, who was the one making it. “Oh, well in that case, I can’t thank you enough for making sure that my boy made it back, Dr. Robby. Family is so important.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Mrs. Whitaker. And please, just Robby. I’m on sabbatical, after all.”
“Then you’ll have to call me Lorraine.” She smiled at him warmly, patted his hand, and ushered them through the door. “Jacob, Isaiah, your brother’s here!”
“It’s about time that dickhead showed up-” Isaiah, beer can in hand, halted mid-step. “The hell is he doing here?”
“Language, Isaiah!” Lorraine scolded. “Denny’s here for the funeral. I don’t want any fighting in my house, understand? You boys play nice.” She kissed the tall, sneering man on the cheek and passed by him into the kitchen. “Jacob, Becca, you’ll never guess…” Her voice faded, and Robby and Dennis were left faced with who Robby could only assume was Dennis’s oldest brother.
“Whatever happened to ‘I’ll never step foot in this house again,’ eh Denny?” Isaiah smiled meanly. “Or did you just think it would be okay to bring your filth in now that dad’s not here to put you in your place?” His eyes flicked to Robby when he said filth, and Dennis’s hands curled into fists. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think anyone here is going to put up with-”
“Dennis!” Another young man, taller than Dennis and Isaiah and looking like a perfect mixture of them, walked up and shoved Isaiah slightly. Isaiah tripped over his own feet, clearly slightly inebriated, and muttered a vicious curse aimed at the newcomer. “Glad you made it.”
“I told you I would. Jacob, this is Robby. Robby, my brother Jacob.”
Jacob, farm raised midwestern politeness still in his blood, held out his hand. Robby shook it, making sure to make it a firm, solid shake. Jacob had the grace to look surprised at that. “A pleasure,” he said.
“Likewise.”
“Is he your…”
“We work together. He was taking a road trip west anyway, and gave me a ride.”
Robby wasn’t sure that Jacob bought that line any better than Lorraine had, even without the additional details of Robby being Dennis’s boss and being on sabbatical, but Jacob didn’t press.
“Well come on in. Becca and the kids are in the kitchen. Ziah says that Misty is coming by later with Matt and Russ but-” he broke off, looked over to where Isaiah was still muttering darkly by the doorway, and lowered his voice. “I’m not so sure that’s going to happen.”
“What about Benjamin?”
“He’s already at the funeral home, taking care of everything. You know Ben.”
Dennis nodded, following his brother into the kitchen. Robby was surprised at how relaxed Jacob seemed, considering the less than stellar reception from Isaiah. Maybe the family wasn’t a total loss. Lorraine had looked genuinely happy to see her son again, showing nothing but motherly affection. One brother, at least, was decent so far. Robby started to hope that, with the dad out of the picture, perhaps Dennis could connect with his family again in a healthy way. The kid deserved that much.
The kitchen was chaos. A woman was at the stove cooking, and Lorraine was standing at her shoulder making it very obvious she would be doing things differently. One kid sat at the counter, scrolling on a phone, and another was on the floor wrestling a collie that barked enthusiastically. Two more kids played what looked like a sadistic version of slaps, where they were whacking each other on the knuckles at every opportunity, howling in pain when they were the one being hit. A toddler sat on the floor crying.
Jacob went to the two beating their knuckles bloody, scruffing them both and saying a few hushed, stern words. Dennis stooped in front of the toddler.
“Hey there, little one. You’re new.” He held out his arms. The little girl studied him through tear filled eyes, her chest hitching with the echo of her sobs. She must have decided that Dennis bore enough family resemblance to be acceptable, because she held up her arms for him with a warbled cry. Dennis scooped her up and cradled her close to his chest. “There, there,” he soothed. “You’re okay.”
It jolted Robby back to seeing Dennis hold Jane, rock her and soothe her, looking so natural with the tiny baby in his arms. There was a fluttering in his chest that he tried desperately to ignore.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Dennis asked.
Jacob stepped back over to them, having successfully disentangled the older two kids. “That’s Layla. Which you’d know if you’d been around at all in the last six years.” There was a hardness to Jacob’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Becca nearly died having her. The doctors wanted to do a hysterectomy. It would have been nice to have someone there who knew all that medical jargon and understood our values.”
“I’m sorry to hear she had a tough time,” Dennis said softly. “But if the doctors said the hysterectomy was the best course, then I probably would have agreed with them. I’m not in Obstetrics. And understanding your values doesn’t mean that I agree with them.”
“She survived without the hysterectomy.”
“And how difficult was her recovery? How many times did you almost lose her?”
Jacob looked away, his jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you know why I stayed away.”
Jacob huffed, holding out a hand placatingly. “Den, if you would just-”
The scuffle of boots announced the arrival of several new people to the room. It looked as though they’d come in through a back door. They were older, wearing dusty clothes and baseball caps that looked as though they’d been splattered with used motor oil.
“Oh, come in boys, come grab some dinner, don’t be shy.” Lorraine bustled around, getting out plates and cutlery and setting them down. The men greeted her with inclined heads and muttered hello’s.
“Dinner?” Robby asked softly. “It’s barely even ten AM.”
“It’s 10:30, and during harvest, work starts at five. They’d probably not eat till closer to noon, usually, but with the funeral being at 1, I assume they’re rushing to get everything done and be able to change. They’ll probably have to do a long day tomorrow to make up for the lost time.”
Isaiah pressed up between Robby and Dennis, slinging an arm around them both and nearly sloshing beer onto the toddler in the process. Dennis glared and used his hand to shield her. “See, some men do actual labor, unlike you sissy boys.”
Dennis looked aghast, but Robby had to reign in a snort of laughter. Robby wasn’t the fittest guy in the world, and he probably couldn’t out-bench press anyone here, but the ED was an incredibly physically demanding job that he’d been doing for longer than this idiot had been alive. And considering the ease with which he swilled his beer, and the stench of cigarettes clinging to his skin, Robby had absolutely zero doubts he could out-work this son of a bitch any day of the week.
There were many things that Robby could be called out on. Many failings that could be exploited. His work ethic and endurance were not amongst them. It was cute that this fucker thought he could make that dig, though. Robby couldn’t help but smirking at him, which left the man reeling back slightly.
“Fuck off, Isaiah,” Dennis said, covering Layla’s ear with his hand as he did so.
“Language, Denny!” Lorraine scolded. Isaiah grinned meanly, and Dennis just sighed.
Jesus, what a shit show.
At the name Denny, several heads swivelled their direction. “Den’s here?” someone asked.
“All the way from Pittsburgh,” Lorraine said proudly.
No one said anything, but Robby noticed several significant looks exchanged. Unease prickled up his spine.
Dennis’s words about his last confrontation with his dad flitted through Robby’s mind. Tried to burn the queer out of me. Maybe not a metaphor, like Robby had been hoping.
***
The viewing was held at a somber one story building that looked as though it had originally been a ranch style house that was converted into the town mortuary. Dennis was right that they didn’t need suits. Most of the women were in black dresses, but the men were mainly in jeans, a mix of boots and sneakers, plaid shirts, t-shirts, some with dusty canvas jackets. Almost every man wore a baseball cap, though there were a few cowboy hats scattered around.
Dennis did not go up to the casket, and Robby stayed silently by his side until it was time to go over to the church.
The service was brief, and would have been unremarkable except for two things.
The first was the leaflet that was pressed into Robby’s hand showing a picture of a man in his sixties, balding and with bushy eyebrows, beneath which was printed Michael Isaiah Whitaker 1965-2026.
Jesus fucking christ. Robby and Dennis’s dad had the same fucking name. He shuddered, felt a bolt of shame for all the less than platonic thoughts he’d had about Dennis, and then another bolt of shame for feeling sorry for himself at this event. He tried to ignore the information. He never went by his first name. Hated it, in fact. It had been his own father’s name, ironically enough. And while he’d never taken such a drastic step as to change it legally, he’d done his level best to distance himself from Michael.
Dennis had never called him that. God fucking willing, he never would. And thankfully, as the service wore on, Robby realized that Dennis’s dad had gone by Mike - which was not a nickname he’d ever had. There was some small distance there. He tried to hold onto that.
The second event started off as a low murmur of voices at the back of the church, which then grew in volume and intensity until it became clear that it was a man and a woman in a shouting match. Two kids started wailing. The words were not pretty. And it was significantly worse when Robby realized it was Isaiah screaming at his wife, Misty.
Around the time he called her a filthy whore, someone managed to pull him away. Dennis’s jaw clenched and he looked stoically ahead. In front of them, Lorraine wept quietly.
The preacher described Mike as a hard working man, dedicated to his family and to god. A simple man, salt-of-the-earth. Unswayed by the sins of the world. Disciplined. An example for others to follow. The rest of the sermon focused on hellfire awaiting those who weren’t like Mike Whitaker. Robby bowed his head respectfully during the last prayer, but said nothing at the end. Beside him, Dennis didn’t either.