Archive of Our Own

It’s not like Dennis had expected dating them to be easy.

Truth is, Dennis hadn’t expected to be dating them at all, with their age difference and their overall different places in life. It just sort of happened. Good chemistry at work turning into lingering moments during handoffs, turning into even longer hours spent together outside of work, sort of dates that nobody outright named as such until Jack ended the stalemate, turning into — this.

A relationship, he supposes. In whatever way it can be one, with three people involved and only about a handful of other people in the know outside of it. With Robby’s commitment issues and Jack’s haunted past, with his own inexperience and clumsiness. It’s a miracle they’re exclusive, and somewhat vulnerable with each other.

And he enjoys it. They don’t see each other as much as he’d like, all three of them together, but they’re always somewhat in touch, and he’s spending so much time with Jack at Robby’s that Trinity is starting to complain about his absence. There’s the sex, and the talks, and the weirdly domestic moments that always manage to take him by surprise.

But there’s also this.

“You don’t look half as cool as you think when you do the whole silent treatment, brother.” Jack pulls up the zipper of his uniform jacket, tired and unamused. His hair is still damp from the shower he took. It’s no surprise, seeing as he headed straight for it when he came home and immediately exchanged one uniform for another. Dennis can tell he’s in pain by the way he shifts from leg to leg more than usual – normally, Robby or he would have said something about it by now. But Dennis has never felt more out of his depth and Robby – he’s drinking his coffee like Jack isn’t there.

He talked to him, right when Jack returned from his shift. Robby and Dennis are both off today, but they make it a habit to get up early anyway in order not to screw with their sleeping schedule. They nap later during the day, and that works better. Robby had thrown a big shirt on him when they both had gotten ready for breakfast – one of Jack’s. Dennis knows that was deliberate, had known it even when he had accepted it and put it on. It’s alright, being the bait once in a while.

But Jack had greeted them with a tired smile, eyes barely lingering on the way his own shirt almost swallowed Dennis whole, and dismissed Robby’s open invitation to come back to bed with them in favour of heading straight for the shower.

The mood had completely gone to shit from then onward.

So Robby’s pissed, brooding over his coffee cup with an expression that promises no good, and Jack puts up with it for about ten seconds before he sighs and turns to Dennis. He softens, just a little, and Dennis can’t help but give him an unsure smile in return.

“Will you let me say goodbye to you, at least?”

Dennis opens his arms wordlessly, but makes no move to get up from his chair at the counter. Robby scoffs into his cup, regardless. Jack walks over quickly, the limp in his step tugging at Dennis’ heartstrings. The 12 hour shift is usually already enough for Jack’s leg to need a break – heading straight from said shift into potential combat only makes it worse. Worse than that, however, is Jack’s tiredness. Dennis feels it in the way he sinks into his arms, hiding his face in Dennis’ neck like he does when they sleep together. He runs his fingers through Jack’s curls and holds on.

“You’re tired.” Dennis can’t help but mumble when they part again. Jack looks almost surprised for a second, then he chuckles.

“No more than usual. I’ll be fine.”

Another scoff behind them, louder this time. Jack’s face hardens.

“Speak up if you have something to say.”

“Me?” Robby cuts in, sharp and sneering. “Oh, no. From a medical standpoint it’s absolutely recommended to go get shot at, especially when you’re mentally and physically exhausted.”

“Luckily, I’m also a medical professional and don’t need your input.” Jack presses a kiss to Dennis’ temple before he straightens himself. The kiss is just a tad too harsh. 

“Evidently you don’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be living out your mortal combat dreams on the rare day all three of us are off.”

This time, Jack does roll his eyes. “I told you, I’ll be back in a few hours and then–”

“And then you’ll go to sleep, because you’ll be dead on your feet.” Robby downs the rest of his coffee and slams the mug into the sink. “Whatever, brother.”

He pushes past them and makes his way back towards the bedroom. Their eyes both follow him out of instinct. Eventually, Jack quietly turns back to Dennis and twists his face into a lopsided grin.

“Seems like he needs more sleep too, huh?” 

Dennis shrugs and averts his eyes. He avoids taking a side when they get like this, no matter how much they seem to want him to. Silence engulfs them, and when Jack seems to understand that he won’t get an answer out of him, he moves.

“I’ll be back at 1 at the very latest. Save up a nap for me, alright?”

Dennis sees him shouldering his bag from the corner of his eye, the bag that holds whatever he always takes with him to his work for SWAT (TEMS, Jack’s voice corrects in his head, meaning he provides tactical emergency medical services and doesn’t directly work for SWAT – like that makes it better). He knows that on top of that pile is his vest, the one Jack puts on in his car rather than in front of them. His heart twinges, and he’s stepping towards the kitchen entrance before he can think about it.

“Be safe.” He calls after him, which earns him a small wave before the man is out of the door. It shuts with a final thud. Dennis finds himself staring at it long after, imprinting their goodbye into his head, before he tears himself away from the sight and retreats back to his spot. He’s not that different from Robby, he supposes. The fear that Jack won’t walk through that door again is present in both of them, the only difference is the way they show it. Robby gets angry, because that’s what Robby is good at, and Dennis – when he can’t help, he’s surprisingly good at being passive.

By the time Robby joins him back in the kitchen, now fully dressed and less stone faced, Dennis’ coffee has gone cold.

“I thought you wanted to drag me to the farmer’s market this morning?” Robby’s hands land on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You were very insistent on the importance of being early, sweetheart.”

Right, the farmer’s market. It’s a bit further out of Pittsburgh, and Dennis had only caught wind of it a few weeks ago. Ever since then he’s been begging them to go with him, and when their days off finally was about to fall on a day where they could actually visit, he’d upped his begging by a notch. 

It had worked on Robby, at least.

“Right.” Dennis stands up from his chair and almost headbutts into Robby, who steadies him with a chuckle. He looks almost amused now, but the strain in his face hasn’t quite gone away yet. The urge to kiss it away is unbearable. “I’ll get dressed, just give me ten minutes–”

“Take fifteen, Dennis, and don’t fall over yourself.”

They spend all noon at the market, and it’s nice. Dennis gets lost in the rural atmosphere, and Robby buys just about everything Dennis even looks at for a few seconds. It’s excessive, even for him, but every purchase seems to take the edge off just a little, so Dennis lets him. He makes Robby try about ten different sorts of cheese in return, out of which Robby seems to like about three and makes a proper attempt to pretend to like another five. 

By the time they make it back and store all their purchases in the fridge and pantry, they’re both somewhat relaxed again. They chat back and forth, topics ranging from discussions about whose turn it is to do the chores to that one MCI they had to deal with last week. They don’t talk about Jack. Dennis wouldn’t know what to say about that, anyway. He can’t make Jack stop, so he can’t make Robby fully happy, either. He’s learnt over time that with Robby, distraction tends to work best on a temporary basis.

It’s 1pm on the dot when the front door opens again, followed by steps coming closer until they reveal a sweaty Jack who looks about ready to collapse on the spot. Dennis’ breath hitches as he scans his body for any sign of injury. No blood, no unusual muscle strain, nothing out of order other than the worsening limp that Dennis knows comes from his prosthetic. He lets out a shaky breath, quiet and relieved.

“What, did you guys rob a farm?”

“Something like that.” Dennis chuckles nervously, holding out a strawberry for Jack to take. The bait works, and Jack steps closer to bite the fruit straight from his fingers. He hums at the taste, licking over his lips when he swallows.

“How fortunate that you returned alive to eat all of it, don’t you think?” Robby snaps, but there’s less coldness behind it than this morning. He assesses Jack more directly than Dennis dared to. 

“I had no doubts I would, Michael.” Jack quips back. He sniffs at his armpit and grimaces. “I’ll be taking a shower. Is anyone gonna join me for a quick nap?”

“Sleeping for nine hours straight isn’t a quick nap.” Robby points out, even as he’s moving towards the door. 

“You can just say yes next time!” Jack shouts after him. Then, he’s reaching towards Dennis. “You promised me a nap this morning, mouse.”

“You kind of promised yourself one, actually.” Dennis takes the offered hand, squeezing for just a second to ground himself. “Let me shower with you?”

“Trying to get a headstart without Robby? Cheeky thing.”

“Just want to make sure you don’t fall asleep in the shower, old man.”

It’s a lie, of course. But Dennis can’t exactly say that it’s a perfect opportunity to check for injuries the man tends to hide from them, and Jack is smart enough not to bring that up. So Dennis fusses, helps Jack with his prosthetic and scrubs him down whilst the man sits on his shower chair, head resting against the tiles. By the time they make it to bed, Robby seems to be in a more forgiving mood. He pulls Jack into his side the second he scoots up, and they slot together líke two parts of one whole. Dennis takes Jack’s other side, and as the older men doze off in minutes, he spends the time staring at the ceiling, waiting for the last bit of tension to drain. Another fight resolved, another shift with SWAT passed without injury.

He can only hope the peace lasts for a week, at least.

Dennis sees the bike before he actually sees Robby. It’s parked at the entrance, demonstratively, drawing attention. Robby might as well have shone a fucking spotlight on it along with a sign that says “I ride this thing at ungodly speeds and without any protective gear”. The glint of sunlight reflecting on its shiny surface is almost nauseating. Dennis averts his eyes and keeps walking.

It’s ironic, really. He used to like that thing. Find it hot, actually, and almost threw his back out trying to save it when it got trashed before Robby’s sabbatical. The one that Jack made him sit out on, because Robby’s goal was arguably not Alberta but the next convenient fucking cliff. Robby hadn’t gone off the cliff, in the end. 

He also hadn’t surrendered his bike.

It’s considerably less hot when Dennis imagines it covered in Robby’s blood.

A strange sense of guilt appears in his stomach, curling and intertwining with the nausea. Usually, he’d have ridden in with Robby, in his truck. Because Robby won’t let him sit on the bike, not even with the helmet and proper safety gear he himself refuses to wear. It makes Dennis want to scream at the hypocrisy, but it also makes him grateful, because it gives him leverage to keep Robby off it, as well. Except last night he had stayed at Trinity’s for “girl’s night featuring Dennis”, leaving Robby with a dangerous choice of vehicles.

Apparently, his death wish had made the final decision.

He doesn’t spot Robby when he enters the ED, but he does spot Jack. The man is frowning, deep and wrinkly in a way that Dennis would find adorable if there wasn’t so much genuine worry behind it. Jack catches a glimpse of Dennis’ face, and whatever he sees on it makes his eyes darken.

“He’s on the fucking bike, isn’t he.”

It’s not a question. Dennis nods and feels like he’s ratting Robby out, anyway.

It’s then that Robby joins them. There’s a slight skip to his step and a grin on his face, already teetering on that manic edge Dennis absolutely despises.

“Goooood morning.” Robby sing-songs, the cheeriness barely covering the provocation. He knows they know.

“Did you bring your helmet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Robby lifts his eyebrows in mocking surprise. Jack’s face twitches, holding back the anger Robby is so expertly trying to draw out of him. Robby can’t deal with Jack’s sadness, or Dennis’. Making them fucking furious seems to be his next best escape. Jack leans in and fixes Robby with that interrogative stare that makes Dennis want to sink into the floor and disappear.

“I’m not playing your games. Did you bring your helmet?”

“I’m sure it’s around somewhere.” 

“Yeah? I’d wager a guess that it’s thrown on the floor in your garage next to where your bike stood, because I vividly remember hanging it on your handle.”

Robby presses his mouth into a thin line  and shrugs, a derisive smile curling on his lips.

“Maybe.”

“Tell me, how do you suppose Dennis is gonna come home tonight?”

They both glance at him, just long and potent enough to make him squirm. Dennis can’t help but look around, gauging just how big of a scene they are causing more or less in the middle of the ER. Most people seem preoccupied preparing for the shift change. He feels like they are watching, anyway.

“Dennis is a grown man who’s fully capable of getting around without me –”

Jack scoffs. 

“Yeah, because you’re a selfish dick who’d rather live out his midlife crisis than make other people’s lives easier.”

“Midlife crisis?” Robby chuckles, in disbelief. “You know what some would call a midlife crisis when it comes to Den–”

“Stop.” Dennis chokes out. He tries to sound neutral, but it comes out pleading anyway. They both glance at him, looking almost surprised by his presence. Or maybe his interference. It’s hard to tell. “I’m right here. I’ll be fine. And please, Robby, just – take the helmet with you next time.”

He leaves before either can formulate an answer. He sees Santos slipping from one patient room into the next, ignoring her snide remark in order to get to work. Even in the midst of scut work, the uncomfortable feeling doesn’t quite leave.

Within their little feud, Jack’s the one to weaponise Dennis the most. It’s a crass term, so much so that he cringed the first time he thought it out loud in his head, but it’s true. Jack wields him like a tool, like the ultimate gotcha against Robby when their fights get tough. Dennis’ input isn’t needed or expected anymore at that point. It’s not malicious, of course. To Jack, Dennis is Robby’s biggest weakness. His soft spot. The one thing that can take Robby out of his anger and see anything but rage, the desperate last ditch attempt when every other strategy has failed. Dennis doesn’t quite think that’s accurate. He knows he holds a special status to Robby, but if Dennis’ power truly was what Jack envisions, the bike would be sold or dumped on the next ditch, preferably. But it’s not, and every time he gets used this way, Dennis is reminded of that reality again. 

It makes him feel – all sorts of things.

None of which he can dwell on in the middle of the ED, but Robby’s bike is still outside and by the time Dennis shows his face again, Jack will be at home and unable to sleep because he worries. 

Somewhere between hour two and four of his shift, Dennis promises himself for the first and for the millionth time that he will talk to them. He’ll tell Jack to stop talking about him instead of with him, so they can put their heads together and figure out a solution. He’ll talk to Robby, then, about his night terrors and flashbacks, about the gaping hole in him that reckless drives between shifts won’t fix. Surely this time, it’ll stick.

The shift ends with Robby’s arms around his waist in a dark corner, a whispered promise of takeout whispered into his hair before he gets on his bike. It ends with Jack standing next to him and staring down the road with carefully restrained agony, and a quiet reminder for him to text when they are both safely home.

One day, it will stick.

It’s been a good week. A fucking great one, actually. 

They’ve had more days off work than on shift, and it’s given them more time to spend together than Dennis can remember them having in weeks. Months, maybe. Jack and Dennis had bullied Robby into cooking for them, making him dust off a book filled with family recipes that Robby insisted he couldn’t possibly do justice (he could – in Dennis’ possibly biased and not so culinary opinion). Jack dragged them out on hikes twice, the second time after half an hour of covering Robby in sunscreen head to toe because apparently the man’s skin burns faster than fire wood. Dennis might have spent about half of it trying to convince them to check out a local shelter and adopt a dog (“Come on, what other perk could we possibly get out of working opposing shifts, Jack?”), with a questionable rate of success.

All in all, it’s been great. No fighting, no tension, just domestic time together. A blessing in their profession, in their lives.

It’s when they’re all curled up together on the couch, with Jack’s stump pulled into Dennis’ lap for him to absentmindedly rub the cramps away, that Jack’s phone rings.

It’s on the couch table, closest in reach of Robby, who looks at the thing like he’s tempted to throw it across the room. 

“Don’t.” Jack warns, holding out his hand with raised eyebrows. “Hand it over.”

Robby scoffs, but complies anyway. Dennis gets a glimpse of the screen, not long enough to read the caller ID, but whoever it is makes Jack’s lips part in surprise. 

“I’ll just get this–” He mumbles, swinging himself out of their comfortable tangle and reaching for his crutches. He snatches them up with one hand, and once he’s standing he answers the phone, clutching it between his neck and his shoulder to free up his hands for the crutches again. 

“Jill?” Jack’s moving out of the room, giving them both an apologetic smile on the way out. “It’s been ages. How are you doing?”

Dennis watches Jack leave, taking a turn towards the left to presumably head for the office. He feels uneasy, for some reason. Robby grunts and hauls him in by his chest, dragging them closer together like it makes up for the Jack-shaped hole in their formation.

“He’s too old to be pulling shit like that with his phone.” Robby mumbles against his temple. “He’s gonna come back with a crick in the neck.”

Dennis hums in reply, but doesn’t look away. Robby doesn’t seem to mind, or at least he doesn’t say anything as he uses him as his personal teddy bear. It’s only when twenty minutes have passed that even Robby starts to get shifty.

“Someone’s a chatterbox today.” Robby says, agitation looming underneath the humour. Dennis presses closer with a frown, burying into the comforting heat.

“Do you know who Jill is?” He eventually asks, quiet and uncertain. Robby sighs.

“She’s the wife of one of his army buddies. They used to visit each other often, but then the guy took a job in California and they moved. Haven’t heard much of them since, though I guess they still keep in touch.”

Someone from the army, then. Dennis swallows, the vague feeling of wrongness making space for very real, very dreadful anxiety.

“Oh.” He whispers. He shifts just enough to properly look at Robby, who now looks just about as anxious as he does. “Do you think we should–”

He’s interrupted by the sound of crutches coming down the hall. They both snap upwards immediately, watching the door with baited breaths until Jack walks in.

Jack looks – 

On edge.

It’s the only way Dennis can describe it, because aside from the tension in his body and the wet eyes Jack seems to be deadset on keeping a lid on whatever is going on inside of him. He gets back on the couch wordlessly, with as much distance from them as the couch will allow, and stares at the TV.

Behind him, Robby shifts. The solid warmth against his back disappears, scooting closer to the edge of the couch instead. Prepared.

“What happened?”

Jack’s face twitches. He doesn’t reply, not at first, but eventually he clears his throat. His voice comes out hoarse.

“Jill called me, she – Seth, he died.” 

“Fuck.” Robby exhales, running a shaky hand through his beard. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” Jack chuckles, the sound wet and painful. “Me too.”

Dennis is reaching for Jack’s hand before he can think about it. Jack freezes under his touch for just a second, before he clutches him tightly in return and gives him a watery smile.

“What happened?” Dennis asks.

Jack shifts in his seat, and the muscle above his jaw jumps. 

“He got shot. On duty.”

“Shot?” 

“Seth worked as a cop.” Robby supplies from behind in. There’s a new edge to his voice now.

“Yeah.” Jack closes his eyes. “He always said he’d go out fighting one day. I just never – fuck, man.”

“I’m really sorry, Jack.” Dennis repeats, because deep down he knows that there’s nothing else to say. Robby gets up from the couch, stepping over their legs to sit on the couch arm and tug Jack into his side. The man folds and falls into the hold, clutching Dennis’ hand like a lifeline. They end up staying like that for two hours before they manage to talk Jack into trying to sleep.

The next two weeks are tense. Jack is evidently processing his grief, flip flopping between diving head first into work and retreating to his room to spend time alone. His calls with his therapist increase in frequency. So does his time spent with his police scanner, an actual radio that feels like an ancient relic to Dennis in the times of smartphone apps, but unfortunately seems to hit the right spot for Jack. Dennis tries not to hover too much. He knows that rationally, there’s nothing he could possibly do to take that grief away. So he gives Jack his space when he thinks he truly needs it, and offers support during all the other times, even if it feels inadequate.

When his mind isn’t occupied with Jack, it focuses on Robby. The man has been on edge ever since the call, as well. It’s pain from seeing Jack grieve, but deep down, held back and carefully suppressed, there’s something else. Jack either doesn’t see it or ignores it, but Dennis? Dennis knows exactly what Robby is thinking, because he’s been thinking about it himself.

It all comes to a head four days after Jack returned from Seth’s funeral.

“So when are you quitting TEMS?”

Jack freezes. For a moment, he looks genuinely surprised, until something more guarded settles on his face. His arms cross over his chest.

“Funny, I don’t remember saying I would.”

Robby mirrors his posture, anger already shining in his eyes. Dennis closes his eyes briefly, and takes a deep breath of the cool morning air that’s wafting over the roof. No peaceful moment before handover, then. They are doing this.

“It’s the most logical conclusion, so you should be saying it.”

“Conclusion?!” Jack steps forward, until they are chest to chest, sizing each other up. “My fucking friend died, Robby. That’s not some lesson to learn from.”

“But it should be.” Robby hisses. They’re not even five minutes into this argument and his face is already red. Dennis knows that it’s the worry. Robby’s sleep has been even more restless lately, and he’s more hypervigilant, tracking Dennis’ moves diligently like he’s about to slip away. He wants him safe. He wants Jack safe. 

It’s not coming out that way.

“Your friend died in active duty because he didn’t know when to quit, and –”

“Careful, Michael.” Jack growls, eyes flashing dangerously. “Consider your next words very fucking carefully.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” Robby throws his hands up, enraged. “You two called each other adrenaline junkies as a joke, but it never really was. You have a perfectly fine job if you’re looking for a thrill, but no, apparently it’s not enough unless you’re actively getting shot at!”

“I’m doing something good out there.” Jack shoots back. “And you should be grateful, for me and everyone who puts themselves out there. Seth’s death was a tragedy, and an act of heroism, so don’t you dare defile that.”

“Heroism?” Robby laughs, dark and ugly. “Right, how fucking heroic of him to make his wife go through all that. What if it had been you instead, huh? What do you think it would have been like for me to make that call to her? Or for Dennis?”

The mention of his name makes Dennis flinch. He’s almost forgotten he isn’t a passive spectator, but a person who’s in this situation with them. With the way they won’t even look at him, he might as well not be there.

“Don’t you dare play that card.” Jack snarls. Whatever composure he had is gone, and he looks more angry than Dennis has ever seen him. It scares him, just a little. “I know what it’s like to have to make these calls. I was there. You were there with me. You don’t get to throw that in my face.”

“Apparently I have to. Apparently you’re not thinking about us at all, because if you were, you’d quit this bullshit and stop trying to die–”

“Oh I know you’re not lecturing me about trying to die.” Jack shoves at Robby’s chest hard enough to make him stumble back, and Dennis’ heart leaps in his chest. They’re far enough from the ledge for it to be safe, but he doesn’t know how much good that will do if they start a physical fight. “At least I’m doing something useful with my time. When you get on that bike and drive around you’re nothing more than a selfish asshole who has no consideration for other people’s feelings–”

“Guys.” Dennis tries weakly. He tentatively takes a step forward, eyes darting between the two of them. They ignore him.

“Should we compare stats, then? The mortality rate of driving a bike versus working for law enforcement?”

“Or how about we start a fucking survey down in the ER, let’s ask everyone how their experiences are with fucking idiots who come in for recklessly driving without any gear in sight –”

“Guys.” Dennis says, louder this time. He doesn’t actually have a plan for what he’s going to say to them, but Jack’s fists are clenching and Robby’s posture is tense like he’s about to haul an aggressive patient back into bed.

“Except that shit has never happened to me! Should we count how often you came back with bruises because you were lucky enough that your vest took the shot instead of you?”

“Guys!” Dennis shouts. Jack and Robby whip around, strung tightly enough for Dennis to recoil.

“What?”

His breath hitches, but he says nothing. It’s not necessary, luckily. His interruption was enough to make them stop fighting, and as they stare at him, chests heaving with exertion, the fight slowly creeps out of them.

The tense silence is broken by the sound of Jack’s pager going off, the sound louder and more jarring than Dennis remembers it ever being. Jack reaches for it with a grunt.

“My shift is starting. I’ll see you tonight.”

He walks towards the door with determined strides, and within seconds, he’s gone, leaving Robby and Dennis behind. Dennis can’t help but sigh in relief. He’s not happy about the outcome, not when Jack is gonna be pissed for the entirety of his shift and Robby is gonna spend the entire night brooding, not when they will most certainly revisit this topic later. But they didn’t get physical. It’s a small win.

With Jack gone, Robby is starting to deflate. He locks his hands behind his neck and exhales, shaky and ragged, the tears in his eyes only barely retreating with how furiously he’s blinking them away. Dennis reaches for him instinctively, relieved when the man allows him to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head on his chest.

“You could have been nicer about this.” Dennis mumbles quietly. Robby scoffs.

“What, so you don’t want him to stop?”

“I do.” Dennis insists. Of course he does. He’d sacrifice a lot to avoid the nauseous worry he feels every time Jack goes for another mission, or to never have to tend to another of his injuries again. “But I don’t think it’s going to work like this.”

“He needs to see reason eventually. He can’t keep doing this shit, Dennis.”

What about you? Dennis can’t help but think. When are you going to stop?

The words creep up his throat, only to get stuck and die halfway. Instead, he shrugs and pulls back until they’re face to face. Robby’s staring down at him with such helpless sadness that he has to look away.

“Let’s go home.”

Working a shift without Robby is weird. Rationally, he knows it’s important that he works these – they make it a point not to let their relationship interfere with work, but even if Robby does his best to treat him like any other intern, he gives Dennis a sense of safety that’s too intricate to be turned off and too intimate to find with anyone else. Working a shift without him reminds Dennis that he has what it takes to be there, that his deepest darkest worries of Robby’s affection tainting his assessment of Dennis’ medical skills aren’t true.

Still, he misses him. There’s also always the underlying anxiety of not knowing what he’s going to do when nobody’s with him. Robby being alone is a fickle thing. He grows restless, out of balance, and broody. Usually there’s nothing for him to worry about, because if Dennis isn’t there, Jack is, but Jack’s meeting with a veteran support group today, so Robby is going to be alone for three hours, at least.

It’s an uncomfortable thought. Dennis scolds himself when he thinks like that, because Robby isn’t a child, and Dennis isn’t his caretaker. Sure, they take care of each other, but they aren’t each other’s keepers. Jack and Robby have both gently reminded him of that, and of his own freedom outside of their relationship, as well. 

He’d rather have less freedom, if that meant knowing they are safe.

But he’s gotten good enough at swallowing past his fears and distracting himself with work, stumbling from one case into the next until symptoms and diagnoses are all he can think of. It works just well enough.

Dennis is in the middle of charting his fifth patient for the day when Jack walks in, posture stiff and face twisted with worry. Dennis’ stomach churns.

“What –?”

“Pack your things, you’re coming with me.” Jack takes him by the arm and pulls him up.

“I – I can’t just leave, I have a patient and I’m in the middle of my shift, and—”

“Dennis.” Jack interrupts. Up close like this, Dennis can see the redness in his eyes. His heart stumbles, and stumbles, and stumbles again. “I got a call from Westbridge. Robby’s been in an accident.”

Dennis’ knees buckle. He crashes sidewards into the table, hip colliding with the edge of it, but he doesn’t feel the pain. Doesn’t feel much of anything, even as Jack pulls him back upright and steadies him. His ears ring, and his vision blurs.

He always thought it would come to this. Had imagined it more times than he’d like to admit, had seen bloody scenes that haunted him into his nightmares. He’s a medical professional. He knows what motorcycle accidents look like. Has delivered the news of drivers passing away to mourning families more times than he can count.

Deep down, he always knew he’d end up like one of them.

“--nis. Dennis!” 

His body is jolted with surprising force, and the stimulus is enough to make him snap out of his trance and look at Jack. 

“I know that this is hard but I can’t do this right now. I can’t get you through this and get to him at the same time, we need to go, we–”

“Is he dead?” Dennis blurts out. Jack’s face twists into pure anguish. 

“No.”

“Oh.” Dennis nods, dumbly. Then his body starts moving on autopilot. He dashes towards the lockers, Jack hot on his tail, collecting his backpack and jacket before running towards the exit. He’s vaguely aware of eyes following him in various states of surprise and shock, but he doesn’t care. He has no time to explain himself. They can fire him later.

They both stay silent during the drive. Jack drives like a madman, but Dennis has no energy to tell him to be careful. If anything, he wants him to hurry. Maybe ask for a favour with his police buddies and get them sirens to clear the roads. Instead, he blankly stares out of the windshield.

Despite Jack’s speeding violations it takes them twenty minutes to get to Westbridge. Jack parks in the first space he can find, and then he’s striding towards the entrance. Dennis follows behind him, dazed, and lets him handle things. Lets him talk to the nurse at the counter, insistent and probably out of line, as he asks for Robby’s whereabouts. Watches him fight with multiple workers and doctors who come and see them, until eventually they are steered through the hallways towards a patient room.

Somewhere, faintly buried inside an irrelevant corner of his head, he feels ashamed of his own inaction. He should be doing more. He’s a second year resident, not a mere med student who stumbles from one shift into the next. He’s supposed to be a physician. Instead, he lets Jack take the lead, because all his mind can produce are multiple arguments for why Robby is going to be dead by the time they see him. 

The rather pissed off looking doctor stops in front of a room and opens it, motioning for Jack and Dennis to follow him inside. There on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown and with gauze wrapped around his head, sits Robby. Dennis stops in his tracks, standing uselessly near the entrance whilst Jack takes the final steps forward to Robby’s side.

“Fuck.” Jack breathes.

“Good to see you too.” Robby quips back, a lopsided smile on his face. 

Alive. He’s alive.

“As I was telling you, Doctor Abbot, Doctor Robinavitch is going to be fine. Head CT and MRI were both clean, we tended to his overall minor injuries, and he’s good to go home under your medical supervision. He got very lucky:” The attending explains, voice tight and controlled. Dennis can’t recall listening to him speak before that. He’s sure he did, and he can only imagine the kind of hell Jack gave the poor guy before they were let in here. None of that matters, not when the relief hits Dennis at full speed, a choked sob clawing at his throat that he tries very hard to stifle.

“I’ll be taking a look at the chart myself, if you don’t mind.” Jack says anyway, in a tone that sounds more like a demand than a request. The doctor hands the chart over.

“Feel free to take a look. We’ll be outside if you have any more questions.” He throws Jack a hard glance. “As much as I understand your concerns, our staff did everything to give Doctor Robinavitch the proper care he deserves. I’d appreciate it if you acted accordingly.”

With that, the man leaves.

“Jesus, what hell did you give these guys?” Robby asks. He seems entirely too amused given the circumstances. 

“Shut up.” Jack cuts him off, eyes frantically scanning the charts, one page after the other. Robby rolls his eyes, then his gaze falls on Dennis. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Did Jack steal you from day shift?”

Dennis stares at him. His mind is still reeling, trying to make sense of the multitude of emotions he’s feeling. Relief, fear, confusion, worry. They all mingle in his head, leaving him unable to make sense out of anything. Maybe if he had access to his full brain power, he’d understand why Robby is being so casual about this.

“Do you have any idea how fucking lucky you are?” Jack asks eventually, slowly lowering the chart. Dennis takes the opportunity and snatches it from willing hands, scanning over the results himself. Minor head lac, extensive scraping on the left leg and hip. A bruise on the torso, no internal bleeding. Clean MRI, clean CT. A sprained wrist. He reads over it again and again, until it finally sinks in that Robby, indeed, got lucky.

“I wouldn’t call it that, considering I got treated at Westbridge.” Robby makes a face. “They aren’t that bad, but man, our staff outdoes them all by a huge margin. Though you should probably still apologise to them, Jack. You were a total dick.”

“I can’t believe you.” Jack runs a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at his curls. “We thought you were dead, do you realise that?”

Robby’s cheery demeanour wavers for just a second. His eyes flicker from Jack to Dennis and then back to Jack, like he’s unsure where to look.

“I’m not. Technically I wasn’t even in the accident. The cars in front of me crashed, I just skidded a little to avoid crashing into them. I was fine enough to do first aid, so.” He shrugs. There’s a glint in his eyes that Dennis can’t help but notice, and it’s almost delighted. Like the worst moment in Jack’s and Dennis’ life was a thrill to him.  “I thought they’d be a little clearer on the phone.”

“They weren’t.” Jack snaps. He pauses in his motions, hand still buried in his own hair, and stares at Robby. Then, he seems to fold. He pulls Robby into him, clutching him into his chest with a tight grip and a full body tremor that betrays his desperation. Robby winces just so, before he sinks into the hug and briefly closes his eyes.

“I’m good, Jack.” He insists, and Jack’s lips press together so hard it hurts just looking at it. Dennis knows the man is still furious, and when the relief wears off, he’s going to give Robby hell for this. 

Dennis isn’t relieved anymore. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but it’s oddly detached, and he can’t stop standing and staring at them, taking in their interaction like he’s doing a behavioural study. It’s like their weekly fights taken up a notch, with Dennis left as the observer who should be involved but can’t quite seem to put an end to it. It adds to the surreality of it all. Even with the chart in his hand and the sight of Robby’s bruises in front of his very eyes, he feels empty.

Eventually, Robby’s eyes land on him, and they stay there. Dennis feels the absurd urge to turn on his heels and run away, except Robby beckons him to his other side with an inviting hand, and Dennis is moving before he can think about it. Robby tugs him down on the chair next to his bed, and then he’s pressed into a solid chest. The hospital gown is oddly scratchy under his cheek, and the unpleasant smell of antiseptic and blood assaults Dennis’ nose. But Robby is warm, and there’s an unmistakable and familiar heartbeat underneath his ear, strong and solid and alive.

Robby’s alive, and with all the odds against him and no helmet in sight, he probably shouldn’t be.

Dennis takes that thought and tucks it deep down, where it stays when they get Robby discharged, with Jack actually making it his mission to apologise to every person he’s talked to in this hospital that day. It stays down when he helps Robby shower the grime off as best as he can, and when the three of them crawl into bed, curled around each other. It stays until Dennis is sure both of their breaths have evened out and he can finally get away from them, and only when he’s hidden away in the opposite corner of Robby’s home, in the guest bathroom with a tub that’s so unused it has a thick layer of dust in it, does he sink against the cold tiles and lets the feeling back up.

It claws up his throat with overwhelming panic, the mixture of fear and worry and anger crashing into him until he’s weeping. The sobs leave him unbidden, raw and agonised even as he muffles them behind his hand. His vision blurs with tears he can’t quite stop, and it takes a heavy weight settling on top of his chest for him to realise that he’s not getting enough air. He gasps, ugly sobs now strangled by the lack of oxygen, but every breath he takes shutters and chokes, depriving him further. His limbs start to numb.

Robby almost died today. And with the way things are going, with his recklessness and the rush and the adrenaline, he’s going to get his bike repaired and do it over and over again, until they’ll have to pick up his things at the morgue instead of the ER.

He’s going to die. And then Jack is going to die, because he’s going to sacrifice his life for some stupid cop just to be a martyr, or maybe he’s going to jump straight from the hospital roof with nobody up there to stop him anymore, and then Dennis is going to be alone, and –

A firm but gentle grip settles on his wrist and pries the hand covering his mouth away. There’s someone talking, but the voice feels distant, and he still can’t breathe. He lifts his head to be met with a blurry Jack, wide eyed and lips moving with words Dennis can’t make out. His chest is still burning, but he blinks the tears away and tries to focus on what Jack is saying.

“Breathe, Dennis. You need to breathe. Slowly. Come on, follow me.”

Jack moves Dennis’ hand to his chest, which Dennis clutches onto instinctually. The fabric of Jack’s sleeping shirt knits beneath his palm, but underneath that Jack’s chest is moving slowly, expanding wide with the breaths he’s taking. It helps. He tries to mimic it as best as he can, forcing his breathing to slow even as his body shudders. Jack stays with him, calm and steady, murmuring praises and reassurances.

Slowly, his surroundings seem to sharpen again. The burn in his chest decreases, and the feeling returns to his body. Dennis can feel the cold tiles beneath him again, barely warmed up by his body heat, and his pelvic bones press into the hard surface uncomfortably. He shifts and leans forward into Jack’s arms, who doesn’t hesitate to draw him in tightly.

“There you go.” Jack murmurs. He rubs over his back slowly, like he’s soothing him into sleep, and it’s relaxing enough for Dennis to slump further into him. “That’s better.”

“Thanks.” Dennis croaks. His voice comes out hoarse. “And sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Jack sighs into his ear and tightens his grip. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I got so caught up in my worry for Robby that I dismissed you completely.”

Dennis makes a sound of protest, which comes out muffled with the way he’s pressed into Jack’s neck. It’s warm, and the scent of Jack’s body wash that still clings onto his skin from his previous shower is soothing. 

“No, I mean it. Sometimes I forget how new you are to this. I’ve put up with Robby’s shit for ages, but you –” Jack trails off. “You’re so good with him, with us. I just didn’t think about it.”

“So it gets easier with time?”

Jack chuckles, small and sad. “No.”

“Oh.”

“But it does change. For better or worse, you get used to it.”

Dennis doesn’t want to get used to it. He wants to burn Robby’s bike in the backyard and throw Jack’s TEMS shit on top of the pile, and then he wants to lock them both away forever until he knows they are safe. The urge is so controlling that it’s foreign.

“How did you find me?” He asks, eager to change the topic.

“I wasn’t really sleeping. More dozing, really. I noticed it right away when you got up, but I wanted to give you your space first. I know it helps sometimes. I only checked on you when you didn’t come back.” Jack gently pulls back from their hold, just enough to cup Dennis’ cheeks and tilt his head up until they are face to face. “You don’t need to go through this alone, mouse. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Dennis begs to differ. In the grand scheme of things, he’s alone in this. He’s not the one with a questionable hobby and poorly concealed suicidal urges, and he hasn’t been part of their dance for decades like they have. It’s not like they exclude him, in fact ever since their fights ramped up, Dennis feels like they have been paying attention to him more outside of it. But the focus on him feels like placation, and he doesn’t want to be the center of their affections just so they can avoid talking to each other. Dennis wants all of them, together, and if complete happiness isn’t an option with all their trauma and burdens he at least wants safety to be one.

It’s not solely their fault either, when he’s unable to put any of this into words.

So he nods and presses a small kiss to the corner of Jack’s lips.

“Okay.” Dennis sniffs and wipes at his eyes. “Can we go back to bed?”

“Of course." 

He helps Jack up and gives him the crutches that are leaning on the wall behind them, and together, they make their way back into the bedroom. Robby is as knocked out as he was when Dennis left, deeply asleep for once thanks to the painkillers. It’s easy to slip back into bed, and after the drain of his panic attack, it’s also easy to fall asleep.

The night is still restless.

Whatever small part of Dennis might have hoped that Robby’s accident would resolve things is crushed within the next few weeks.

Robby does stick to his recovery period, and he promises them he will wear a helmet from now on. But he also lets his bike be towed to Duke’s, and when he has time off, he’s over at his place fixing the goddamn thing. But the worst part, at least to Dennis, is the glee in his eyes when the accident is mentioned. He doesn’t need to say it out loud for everyone to know that he enjoyed the crash. Not the injuries, surely, not with the way he’s bitching about how long it takes his sprained wrist to recover, but the close brush with death definitely thrilled him. Dennis fears what he will do next to chase that level of adrenaline again.

They talk to him about it, Jack and Dennis. Multiple times. The conversations range from mild placations to straight out cursing, all under Jack’s more or less confident lead, but the outcome is always the same: Robby smiles, dodges, rages, and ends up proposing vague compromises he won’t stick to.

Four weeks after the accident, he picks up his bike from Duke’s. The day after, Jack picks up an extra three shifts for TEMS. He’s basically glued to his radio now, and from what Dennis has gathered, he’s looking for ways to be even more involved with the local police. Whether he does it to spite Robby or to genuinely relieve the stress of knowing the man is back on the road is unclear to Dennis. Hell, it’s probably both. The only thing it does for Dennis is add onto his own stress.

He sleeps less as a consequence. It makes him moodier and withdrawn. He blunders more at work. Usually, Robby and Jack would be the first ones to be all over him and point that out, but with their increasing fights and escalating behaviour, all it earns him is a few odd glances and joking comments.

So naturally, the person who confronts him about it is Trinity.

“So, any changes in career aspirations that I should know about?” She asks one night, casually sipping on her beer. They’re in a bar somewhere in god knows where. Dennis doesn’t really care. The only reason he had even agreed to go out with her is so he has an excuse to be away from Jack and Robby. Trinity, apparently aware of his dilemma, has taken that as an excuse to test his limits. This particular bar is atrocious and the worst one so far: it’s fucking pink and full of glitter, from the ceiling down to the floor, and the waiters are all dressed as bunnies as they deliver pink drinks to everyone around them. Hell, even Trinity's beer came with a pink label. Dennis knows for a fact that she also loathes this place, simply for the sickingly cutesy pop music playing over the speakers, but his suffering seems to outweigh her disgust for now.

“No?” 

“Oh, good. Cause I was wondering. With the way you’re doing at work, I kind of thought you stopped giving a fuck about passing your residency.”

Dennis glares at her over his drink – another pink atrocity, way too sweet to be good, but he had picked the first thing he saw on the menu for a lack of fucks left to give. 

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“Barely.” Trinity snorts. “If I hadn’t helped you out with your patient today, Al-Hashimi would have ripped you a new one. Not that she isn’t kind of hot when she does that.”

“Dump Garcia and go for her then, I’ll be happy to see you fail on two fronts.” He snaps. Trinity whistles, raising her eyebrows.

“Wow, catty much. No need to get all worked up, Huckleberry. My love life is stable right now.”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I think I will.” She leans forward, her teasing smirk making way for a more serious expression. “You do know that the only reason I let your throuple situation slide so far is because they made you happy, right?”

“You’re considering my feelings now? Touching.”

“Someone evidently has to watch out for you.”

“I can watch out for myself, thank you very much.”

“Can you?” Trinity’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Because from where I stand, you look positively miserable. And you have to be, because no sane person would let anyone drag them to a place like this.”

“It has its charm.” Dennis shrugs, earning him a scoff.

“Now come on, Huckleberry.” She kicks his shin underneath the table in what Dennis can only assume was supposed to be a friendly nudge with too much force behind it. He yelps. “You aren’t the only one who’s been off. Robby and Abbot move around the ER like they’re counting down to their final days. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You know what’s wrong.” Dennis shoots back, overwhelmed with bitterness. “They are counting down to their final days. Fucking chasing the finish line, too.”

“Oh.” She seems to be taken aback by his answer. “So was Robby’s accident actually…?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Dennis shrugs and stares into his drink. He’s been wondering when this question would come. It’s been lingering in the ED ever since the news spread, with shifting eyes and whispered conversations that never went any further because nobody dared to ask. Even Trinity hadn’t asked him, which in hindsight is strange. “It won’t be one next time.”

“Shit.” Trinity frowns. “And Abbot?”

“Jack’s happily using up his vacation days to spend more time with SWAT. The riskier, the better.”

“Weird. They seemed better when they got together with you.”

“It’s not my fault!” Dennis snaps, slamming his glass on the table so hard it shakes beneath him. Trinity flinches, surprised.

“I didn’t say it was.”

“I know.”

And he does. It hits a sore spot in him anyway. It’s not the first time he has wondered whether he should be better for them. Whether it’s finding a way to make them stop or giving them a reason to not do it at all in the first place, Dennis seems to fall short on both fronts. It stings, because until a few months ago, he thought he got them. 

“They’re old men. Like, really old.” Trinity piddles at the label of her beer bottle awkwardly. “And they’ve been through a lot of shit. You can’t fix that, Huck.”

“But I want to.” He admits. Trinity looks at him with something akin to pity.

“Look, I know you love them. But if that’s the way your relationship is gonna go, you need to end it. If they want to jump from the roof, fine, but they can’t drag you down with them.”

“They’re not.” He protests weakly.

“Dude, you’re obviously not getting any sleep. You’re sad, all the time.”

“It’s not – it’s not all the time.”

“Dennis.” Trinity grabs his forearm, looking more serious and scared than he has ever seen her. The genuine concern strikes him between the ribs, and he swallows around the lump in his throat.  “Listen to yourself. You need to realise how you sound right now.”

“I won’t let them drag me down with them. I promise.” He assures her. Trinity doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but she lets it slide, and they leave the bar half an hour later. The ride back is silent, with Trinity staring at the street with unusual focus and Dennis fiddling with the phone in his hand. In the group chat he has with Robby and Jack, there are new messages waiting for him.

(Robby): Have fun with Santos, sweetheart

(Jack): I know you’re off tomorrow, but don’t overdo it

(Jack): You’ve been looking tired lately

(Robby): You can have her drop you off at my place after if you want 

(Robby): Don’t worry about waking me up

(Jack): We miss you

(Jack): Stay safe 

He closes the group chat without replying and curls up further in his seat. It hurts how careful they are with him, how much they want him to watch out for his own safety when they don’t do the same for themselves. He can’t go back to them and have them fuss, not when their care and concern is always followed by a spiral of escalations and reckless behaviour. 

Dennis glances at Trinity, her frown still visible underneath the passing streetlights, and realises that she is right.

He’s going to have to put an end to this.

He broods over it for an unreasonable amount of time. It’s overly exaggerated carefulness at best and straight up cowardice at worst, but he can’t help but go over his words over and over again. Somewhere deep inside, he hopes that if he finds the right ones, he can make them listen. The circumstances aren’t the worst: the more he withdraws from them, the more they seem to reach for him, longing and worried. Maybe he can use that. Maybe this time he can make them see.

Except Robby’s looking at buying another bike from a friend of Duke’s, and Jack has been on the phone with his buddy from SWAT more often, discussing "assignment changes” that Dennis would rather not think about. At least he knows he’s not the only one who’s going to be giving them shit about it: when he finishes handovers at the end of his shift, he catches a glimpse of Dana talking to both Jack and Robby. He doesn’t need to listen in to know what kind of conversation it is. Dana’s stance exudes every bit of scolding mom, and her face is twisted in obvious displeasure. It’s almost funny just how much like chewed out children Jack and Robby manage to look, caught between defensiveness and sheepishness. 

Dennis leaves them to it and ends up doing an extra round around the ED to pass the time. Jack’s only here to pick up Robby and Dennis, anyway – they have a night off together for the first time in a week. The prospect isn’t quite as exciting anymore, but they had both looked pleading when they asked him to come over tonight, and Dennis hadn’t had the heart to say no. They make an effort not to leave together even if they share a ride, so technically, Dennis could just wait outside at Jack’s car, but him slipping out might give Jack and Robby the chance to abandon their conversation with Dana, and he doesn’t want to give them that chance. He drags his leave out long enough that Shen asks him if he’s doing a double.

“No!” Dennis assures with a nervous laugh. Shen looks at him, semi-amused as he slurps on his iced coffee.

“Then get out before someone makes you do one.”

That finally sends Dennis on his way. When he passes the hub, backpack slung over his shoulder, all three of them are gone. With a sigh, he heads out into the cold night.

“Kid.” A voice calls him from the entrance. Dennis stops in his tracks, turning to the source.

“You’re still here, Dana?”

“Seems so.” The woman takes a long drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out into the night. She looks exhausted. “Needed a smoke before I drive home. Talking to Robby and Abbot will do that to you.”

Dennis grimaces at the acknowledgement. He doesn’t particularly like talking about them to her – whilst he’s sure that Dana knows, they’ve never explicitly stated it in front of her. 

“Yeah, I’d be pulling that face too if I had to go home with them.” She chuckles dryly, and Dennis flushes. “They’re pulling quite a number on you, kid.”

Dennis shrugs and looks away. Her scrutiny burns into him.

“I know you mean well –” Dana continues, apparently undisturbed by his lack of engagement. “-- but these two are in deep shit. And you shouldn’t be the one to suffer from that.”

They can’t drag you down with them, Trinity’s voice echoes in his head. Dennis tightens the hold on his bag strap. 

“Goodnight, Dana.” He rushes out, and he doesn’t wait for a reply before he dashes off towards the parking lot. Jack and Robby are both leaning against the car when Dennis arrives. They perk up when they spot him, but Dennis dodges their greetings and throws his bag on the backseat.

“Can we go home?” He asks curtly, even as he gets into the car before they can answer. Their faces are obscured from this angle, but Dennis can feel their frowns, anyway.

They end up complying. The car ride is spent in tense silence that promises some sort of fight. Except neither Jack or Robby are snapping at each other, instead they seem to skirt around Dennis like he’s the bomb that could go off. It’s infuriating.

“I made chili.” Jack offers when they’re inside. They’re all hovering in the hallway, like they’re unsure of where to go next. “You must be hungry, right?”

“I guess. I mean, yeah.” Dennis replies softly, giving a half hearted shrug. He knows he should be eating, but in his current state, he doubts he can get even one bite down. Even if Jack’s chili tends to be his favourite. Robby gives a shaky exhale and fixes him with a pleading stare.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong? Please?” 

Dennis looks up, surprised. Half of the surprise is due to the fact that Robby dared asking at all, but the other half –

“You’re wondering what’s wrong?”

“No, he’s not.” Jack sighs. “You need to cut the shit, Robby.”

“Oh, so I’m the problem?” Robby snaps, irritated.

“Considering that you sent him into a panic attack with your little stunt a few weeks ago, yes.”

“Very convenient for you, isn’t it? Makes it very easy to pretend you have no part in this.”

“Convenient?” Jack scoffs. “Nothing about this is convenient, Michael.”

“Seems to me like it is.” Robby crosses his arms in front of his chest.  “You can draw a fucking target on your chest for gun nuts to shoot at but god forbid I own a bike.”

“It’s two bikes now, isn’t it?” Jack throws back, shoulders shaking with building rage. “Two bikes and not one helmet in sight. But who needs that when your goal is to crack your skull open anyway, right?”

Robby groans. “You’re so full of shit, you—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Dennis’ voice bursts over both of them, shrill and jarring. Jack and Robby both turn towards him, looking like deer caught in headlights, frozen and wide eyed. It’s deja vu – they always do this when he intervenes, and it always ends up changing nothing. The thought only fuels the rage in his body, and every bit of rationality he has tried to gather for this moment is blown away, replaced by all the anger and grief that’s been accumulating over the months.

“Just cut the shit! I’m so sick of this same conversation, over and over again! It’s both of you. You’re both the problem. You’re both my problem.”

“Dennis – ”

“No. You’ve been talking your asses off for months, to no avail. Now it’s my turn. You keep on pretending that you care about my feelings on this, but somehow it’s only ever enough care for you to use against each other. I’m not a fucking weapon you two can wield when you feel like it.”

“Of course not  –” Robby starts, and Dennis interrupts him with a shove to his chest.

“Shut up, Robby, I fucking mean it. I’m so sick of this. Sick of you and your bikes and your fucking death wish. Do you have any idea what you’re putting me through? Every time you get on that fucking thing I’m so sure you won’t return. It’s like I can already hear the phone ringing, with some poor resident on the line who’s going to have to tell me you died. And thanks to your fucking crash, I can imagine it all the better now. You saw us run into that emergency room, sick and worried to death, and you had the nerve to smile at us. I know you’re fucked up, I know you’re struggling, but can you get your head out of your ass for five seconds and consider how that makes us feel? How it makes me feel? What’s the point of getting me into this relationship with you if you’re going to kill yourself anyway? Am I just an item on your bucket list of midlife crisis moves you need to pull before you do it? Ride a bike, check. Fuck a controversially young guy, check. Blow up the lives of every person that cares about you, triple check.”

Dennis is full on yelling by now, face red and ears ringing from the sheer volume of his voice. But they’re both quiet, too stunned by his outbreak to talk for once, and it feels so good to get it out. So he turns to Jack, who seems to cower back instinctively, and keeps going.

“And don’t get me started on you. You act so enlightened, so sane, like Robby’s the only one pulling dumb shit. So you’re in therapy, great job. Does your therapist know about your extracurriculars? I doubt it, because if they were worth the money you are paying them, they’d be telling you to stop right away. Isn’t saving lives as a doctor enough? Do you really have to put yourself out there like that? You always mock Robby for how cool he tries to look on his bike, but you’re no better, walking around in your vest in the ER like it’s hot. It’s not. I hate your cop friends, and I hate that you think you owe them this. You’re a doctor, and a damn good one. I don’t expect you to leave your past behind, but there’s a difference between your veteran support groups and whatever the fuck you’re doing when you’re with SWAT, or when you’re circling your radio like you’re waiting for the next hit. It’s one bullet, Jack. You’re one bullet away from Robby picking me up from day shift to pick up your belongings.”

Dennis breaks off, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He feels possessed, like the words leaving him aren’t his own, even if he means them. There’s a long break, but neither Jack or Robby try to fill it with objections. They’re both pale, looking at him like he’s unrecognisable. Maybe he is.

“And I can’t do it anymore. The fights, the suicidal tendencies, the way you play it off and deflect. The way you turn to me like I’m supposed to be your ally in this, like you’re not both hurting me. I can’t sleep anymore because of it. Every night I lie awake, terrified that the men I love more than anything are going to die, because they’re not happy enough, which means that I’m not enough, and —” He breaks off, voice cracking as tears begin to fill his eyes. He blinks them away, humiliated. “A-and it’s probably just that nobody is enough to fix this, to fix you, but you definitely made me want to. And I wish I could just ignore it and stick around to soak up every bit of time I have left with you. I want it so badly. I just – I really can’t. I love you, and I can’t bear that.”

Dennis deflates, whatever anger fueled him now draining from his body at record speed. He’s tired, deep to his bones.

“So I won’t. I’m leaving. Maybe without me there to distract you and make you feel better about yourselves you’ll finally do something.”

He picks up his jacket and bag that are hanging on the wardrobe, grateful for the fact that he kept his shoes on this time. Keeping his head low, he opens the door and walks out for good.

He calls in sick the next day. And the day after, and the day after that, too. It’s fruitless. Dennis knows that he will have to face them again eventually, but for now, wallowing in his bed and doom scrolling on his phone seems like the better option.

Both Jack and Robby started blowing up his phone about half an hour after he left, and they haven’t stopped since. He’s muted their chats, and it’s not his self control that makes him resolutely not look at the messages they send him. They call him, too. He lets them go to voicemail, and then refuses to listen to those as well.

Trinity leaves him alone, at least for her standards. She did squeeze out every detail of their fight when she picked him up three blocks from Robby’s place. Or Robby’s and Jack’s place. Dennis supposes the semantics aren’t his business anymore. 

“I told them I loved them.” He moans after day one of calling in sick, when she throws a popsicle at his head and makes him listen to a narration of her shift. “We haven’t said that before, and I just – told them.”

“Well, it definitely did something.” Trinity mutters. “Robby looks like absolute shit. Abbot – I haven’t seen him, actually. He avoided day shift like the plague today.”

“Don’t talk about them.” He whines. The mere thought of them makes his head and his heart hurt.

“You’ll need to get used to that. Your…. flu can’t last much longer than a week, Huckleberry.”

“I’ll have the world’s longest flu, then. I don’t care.”

Trinity rolls her eyes. “You better not call my shit with Garcia dramatic ever again. Geez.”

He ignores her. Just like he ignores every incoming message on his phone, even those of his worried colleagues and their caring wishes for his recovery. It’s on day four that the reality of it really sinks in.

Dennis left them. He put all his feelings on the line for them to see and then walked away. He essentially gave them a free pass to amp up their recklessness and get themselves killed. It feels remarkably like he’s torn his own heart out of his chest.

So he sobs into his pillow, unfiltered and broken, until he’s tired himself out enough to drift off into restless sleep. When he wakes, the cycle repeats. He sends away Trinity when she tries to come in for her daily report, and pretends he doesn’t hear her lingering outside of his door when he keeps on crying.

When he wakes up in the morning of day five, the sun is up and the apartment is quiet. Dennis tiptoes to his bathroom to use the toilet, frowning when there’s no movement in return. It makes him brave enough to peek into the living area, where Trinity should be, considering it’s her day off. It’s empty. From where he stands, he can sneak a glance at her room, too: the door is open, and the room is just as abandoned as the rest of the apartment.

Still frowning, he makes his way back to bed and checks his phone. There’s a ton of messages waiting for him to reply to, but none from Trinity. It’s odd. He calls her, only to be sent straight to voicemail.

(To: Trin) Where are you???

The message delivers, but stays unread. Unsettled, Dennis puts his phone away and curls back up under his covers. He tries to go back to sleep, but with the anxiety of Trinity’s unknown whereabouts, he finds himself straining his ears to pick up any movement. Victoria would have a field day with his behaviour, claiming it sells their freakish twin-like bond even more, and it’s probably true. It’s been ages since Dennis hasn’t known where Trinity is.

So when the sound of the door unlocking reaches his room two hours later, he’s up on his feet and dashing to the hallway before he can think about it.

“Thank god, where the fuck have you–”

He skids to a halt mid-run and barely avoids falling back onto his ass. The double take doesn’t help: it’s still Robby standing in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his scrubs and hair sticking out in every direction, and it’s still Jack who closes the door behind him, Trinity’s keys in hand.

“You’re pretty fast on your feet for a flu.” Jack says.

“I–....what?”  Dennis gapes at them. It makes no sense for them to be here, in his space, his and Trinity’s. They’ve barely seen the inside of this apartment when they were together. As supportive as Trinity tried to be, it was obvious that she hated the idea of them being here. And ultimately the apartment was still her space, one that she already allowed him to intrude in. He had always felt like he owed it to her to not push her boundaries even further. But now there they stand, with Trinity’s keys, after they’ve broken up. Dennis suddenly becomes very aware of how he must look: other than cry and wallow he hasn’t done much these past few days, much less shower or change his clothes. Clothes which, seeing how suspiciously oversized they are on him, might have been stolen from them in the first place.

“How did you — where’s Trin?!”

“Somewhere with Garcia, probably. Seems like a good way for her to debrief her day so far. She sure had an exciting one.” Jack quips, placing the keys on the drawer next to the door. He’s keeping his voice light on purpose, Dennis can tell – his voice pitches up slightly more when he’s trying too hard to appear unbothered. 

“I don’t understand.” 

They both turn to look at him properly, and the intensity of it has him shrinking back and scrambling to fix his greasy hair. It’s most certainly hopeless. He feels gross, and he’s pretty sure he looks the part, too.

“Santos took a little stroll past Robby’s place this morning, equipped with a baseball bat that she just happened to swing against his bikes. Multiple times.” Now there’s genuine amusement in Jack’s voice, as faint as it might be. “Just her luck that I happened to be trying to sleep in his bed.”

“She wrecked the bikes?” Dennis screeches.

“And broke into the garage, too. Quite a lot of effort, I have to admit.” 

“You’re joking.” Dennis says.

Jack has to be. It’s not that he can’t imagine Trinity pulling off a stunt like this per se, but she also happens to love her job, and despite her insistence, she still holds a bit of respect for Robby. She wouldn’t risk it all for – what, actually? Revenge in his name? The notion seems ridiculous. But then Dennis looks from Jack to Robby, who looks like he’s going through the five stages of grief in rapid succession.

“Oh my god.” His knees buckle, and he almost crashes shoulder first into the wall to his side. “Please don’t fire her. Or report her. Fuck. Robby, please, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t—”

“Dennis.”

“I’d never put her up to this, she’s just protective and insane, and I’ll find a way to pay you back, I swear–”

“Dennis.” Robby repeats, firm and more stern this time. Dennis shuts up instinctively. Robby sighs and runs a hand through his hair – now Dennis has an explanation for his dishevelled state, at least – before he gestures towards the couch. “Can we sit down?”

“If you don’t fire her, yes.” He blurts out. Jack laughs at that, surprised and honest. Dennis isn’t sure whether the flush shooting up his neck is from sheer humiliation or pleasure at hearing that sound.

“She gave us her keys and some time to talk to you, so we decided that we’re even.” 

Robby makes a face like he wants to object, but stays silent. Momentarily calmed, Dennis carefully sits on the edge of the couch, curling into himself. Robby and Jack sit down as well, keeping a respectful distance from him. It still feels wrong – they shouldn’t be here. They seem to realise that, too, because even as they settle down and look at him like they have a lot to say, none of them open their mouths. 

“We’re sitting now.” Dennis states eventually. 

“We are.” Robby rubs his beard. He looks exhausted, in ways that extend working a shitty shift and then finding out one of your residents trashed your pride and joy. Despite Dennis’ hatred for the thing, despite the million times he’s felt the urge to be as insane as Trinity was, he can’t help but feel bad.

“Look, I meant it about paying you back. I’ll find a way. I know you have the money, but this obviously is the least we can do.”

“That’s nice of you, considering you didn’t do anything to help her.” Jack points out.

“Well.” Dennis shrugs. “I’m guessing she kind of did it for me, though?”

“Oh, she definitely did.” Jack scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Before she panicked over being discovered, she had a lot to say to us. About how we’re fucking assholes who are too old to be playing the suicide olympics, and about how embarrassing it is that we’re making you the sane and stable one in this dynamic.”

Dennis groans and hides his face in his hands. “Yeah, that definitely – wasn’t my input.”

“It was kind of sweet, actually. She managed to simultaneously insult you and make it clear that she loves you. We were touched.”

“Speak for yourself.” Robby snaps. “When I arrived after abandoning my day shift, she was still holding that fucking bat over my bikes like a lunatic.”

“Sweet and insane, then.” 

“May I remind you that you can only laugh because she didn’t go after your vices?”

“For now.” Jack leans back into the couch. “You heard her talking about calling the cops. Give her a few more hours and she absolutely will find a way to get me banned from ever cooperating with any part of law enforcement ever again.”

“She won’t do that.” Dennis objects. He feels less confident than he should in that statement – after all, he never quite thought she’d break into their chief attending’s garage and trash his property, either. 

“Like I said, she loves you very much.”

And she does. In her insane, very irrational ways, which result in her having to surrender her keys to his – exes? – and serving him to them on a silver platter, but she does. The thought of her actively destroying what kept him up at night regardless of the consequences might be one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for him. Dennis clears his throat and wills himself to look at Robby.

“As I said, we will repay you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Of course I need to – like I said, you have the money but it shouldn’t be on you to compensate–”

“You don’t need to pay me because I’m not getting them fixed.”

Dennis blinks. “Huh?”

“I’m not getting the bikes fixed.” Robby sighs again, more defeated this time. “They did need to go. I’d much rather have made money from selling them, but I guess I deserve this outcome.”

“You’re giving away the bikes.” Dennis repeats, dumbly. He can’t help it. At this point he’s sure he’s in a parallel universe, where Robby and Jack sitting on his couch is a regular occurrence. Only there would this make sense. “What, are you getting something deadlier?”

Jack snorts, which earns him a nasty glare from Robby.

“No. I – Jesus, was I really that bad?” Robby winces. “I’m not going to do this shit anymore. Putting my life on the line. God knows I still don’t like living, but you were right. I can’t enter a relationship with you and then continue to fuck up my life like I have nothing to lose. Turns out I have a lot to lose.”

“Oh.” 

Dennis isn’t sure what to say. A few weeks ago, this was all he wanted to hear. Heck, five days ago, he would have broken down on the spot in tears, grateful and relieved. 

Now?

He feels much less certain of how to act.

“I’m quitting TEMS, too. My SWAT buddies will kill me for it, but since you hate them anyway, I guess that’s not that important anymore.” Jack shrugs, a rueful smile on his face. “Turns out my therapist fucking hates them too.”

“So you’re both stopping.” Dennis clarifies. It’s redundant, considering the circumstances, but after months of watching them fight over this and never coming to this conclusion, he isn’t all too inclined to believe them that easily.

“We are.” Jack confirms. Robby nods in support. He doesn’t look happy, but he looks certain enough.

“That’s….” Dennis hesitates. What is he supposed to say to this? “...good.”

It’s also, by any reasonable standard, too late. They know it, too, must see it written out on his face by the way they shrink into themselves.

“We know it’s not enough. It doesn’t fix shit.” Jack bites the inside of his cheek, eyes bright with wetness. “But at least this way you won’t have to worry all the time.”

“Is that the only reason you did it?”

“No.” Robby insists. “You obviously gave us the final push, but you were right. With everything you said.”

“Wow, thanks.” Dennis snaps. Now that the awkwardness is starting to fade and he’s relatively sure of Trinity’s job security, the anger that’s been drowned out by sadness over the past few days is kicking back in. “Great talk. Is that all?”

“Please, Dennis, just give us this one shot at talking to you.” Jack pleads. It’s uncharacteristic – not that he’s soft, per se. Not even that he’s helpless. Dennis has seen both before. But both of those feelings directed purely at him is foreign. He slumps back into the couch, momentarily defeated.

“We were selfish. There’s no excuse for that. You just – you fit in so well with us, that it was so easy to forget that you weren’t always there when we were pulling shit like that.”

The words ring familiar. Dennis thinks back to the conversation he had with Jack on the bathroom floor all those weeks ago and frowns.

“Jack and I have gone through a lot with each other. For better or for worse. We kept each other sane during good times, but during others we’re just very good at enabling each other.” Robby chuckles, small and self deprecating. “Dana always said we push each other to all extremes, and she’s right. The relationship shit might be relatively new in our history, but otherwise we’ve done it all. It’s familiar. It’s not when it comes to you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Dennis admits.

“What Robby’s really badly trying to say is that you are better than us in a lot of ways.” Jack corrects gently. “Not in a self deprecating type of way. You just – bring out the best in people. It’s admirable. I saw the way Robby clung to you like you’re the sun on the very first day you two met, and I thought he was crazy for it until I spent time with you. You’re an absolute force, Dennis.”

“So in theory we knew you wouldn’t want this for us.” Robby continues. “You’re a lot less jaded than we are, and so much stronger. Of course you wouldn’t want this shit for us. But we’re so used to this dance, to spiral mutually and tug and shove and push. So in practice, I guess we forgot that you changed things.”

“I’m not so sure that I did.”

“Oh, trust me. You did.” Jack’s face softens. “I know it sounds stupid considering the shit we pulled off these past few months but you made us more stable. Happier. God knows we’d have been on the roof more without you around.”

“Then why wasn’t it enough?”

“Because we’re old men who are absolutely fucked in the head.” Robby states, and he looks so regretful that it tugs at Dennis in all the wrong ways. “And you didn’t deserve that. We owed it to you to be better than that.”

Dennis lets the words linger, using the moment of silence to take it all in. It’s a relief to hear, in many ways. Even if he rationally knew that he wasn’t to blame for the way things went between them, there was always that small voice in his brain telling him he should have fixed them. Aside from the relief though, he still feels the anger and the grief over everything he lost in the process.

“You did.” He eventually admits. It feels good to say. “But I should have talked to you more, too. I was too scared to ever actually say it out loud until it was too late, too. So it’s not – entirely on you.”

“No need to give credit where it isn’t due, Whit.” Jack says. “It was entirely on us. And we’re sorry.”

“We are.” Robby confirms. He hesitates, and Dennis doesn’t miss the way Robby and Jack exchange a loaded look.

“What?”

“You —” Robby trails off. “You said that you loved us.”

“Oh.” Dennis flushes, glancing away. Out of all the things they talked about, this shouldn’t be the thing that sends him running. “Yeah, I did.”

“Because you’re honest, and brave, even though you shouldn’t have to be because we should have told you we loved you months ago.” Jack adds. The words send a thrill down his spine. He’s figured, on some level, that they felt this way – and yet none of it compares to hearing these words, even now.

“We do love you.” Robby agrees. He’s inching closer with every second, and Dennis doesn’t know whether it’s deliberate or whether it’s Robby’s natural inclination to be drawn into his orbit. “And god knows you deserve better than this, better than us, but us seeing it this way is kind of the reason we got here in the first place. We should just be better for you instead of letting it feed our self destructive tendencies. So we’d like a chance to do that, if you let us.”

Dennis stares at his hands on his lap, feeling more surprised than he probably should. And yet he can’t help it. He hadn’t expected them to outright ask him to come back – Robby’s always been the kind of person to take the distance you take from him and double it just in case to protect his own emotions. And Jack, for all his ease and gentle care, made it abundantly clear that he worried about them wrecking him, which by all standards, they kind of did.

And still, he loves them.

“I think you kind of ruined the whole being more stable than you part.” Dennis admits with a wet laugh. “I spiraled with you there.”

“You’ve got nothing on us yet, kid.” Jack smiles, and it’s a sorrowful thing. “And if I do anything good with the rest of my life it’s going to be assuring that you never do.”

“You'll need to go to therapy.” Dennis demands, like he isn't scooting closer and closer to eliminate the gap between them. “Both of you. Consistently. And you'll need to be honest with your therapists, too. No more half truths.”

“Deal.” Robby breathes. His hands twitch on his lap, like he's desperately restraining them.

“If you ever so much as look at a bike again, I'm going to kill you myself.”

“Okay.”

“I’m throwing out your police scanner. From now on you’ll be the last to know about any police operation.”

“Absolutely.” Jack is grinning like Dennis just told him there are no patients left in the waiting room for his shift. It’d kind of be infuriating if Dennis hadn’t made his choice already.

“And I'm locking the roof. You're too old to be climbing around there.”

“Whatever you want, Dennis.”

“I mean it.” He insists, gathering his last bit of restraint. “I can't do this again. It almost killed me last time.”

“You make the rules.”

It's a decidedly easy thing to say. It's been five days since he broke down in front of them, five days since they were willingly flirting with death in front of him. There’s no real change to be done in five days.

“Okay.” He nods, and grips tightly at the sofa beneath him in order not to launch himself right at them this instant. It's too early, even if they look at him with so much worship, like they're kneeling in front of his altar. “I'll let you do better.”

“Stop –” Dennis groans, barely wrenching his lips away from Jack to shove at the other head latched onto the skin of his throat. “I'm serious. I need to shower.”

“Hmmm, no, you don't.” Jack murmurs and draws him back into another kiss. It's deep, all encompassing and fucking consuming. Dennis should have probably expected that, after three weeks of allowing close to no physical contact. Plus, with the extra adrenaline of working with the police gone, Jack is buzzing with energy he hasn't quite redirected yet. He's trying out tennis, as far as Dennis knows – but sucking Dennis’ soul out through his mouth seems to be the preferred activity for the other man for now. 

Dennis can't really complain, with the way he's moaning and falling into it. Jack is clutching his face like a lifeline, both feral and devoted. It’s heady. And then there's Robby, with his roaming hands that have been deprived of Dennis properly for the first time since he started his residency, who's pressing into his body like he's trying to fuse them into one. The tongue on his neck licks a stripe up towards his jawline, and Dennis’ cock gives a violent twitch. Torn between need and exhaustion, the latter wins. He shoves them both away and frees his face for a deep breath.

“I mean it.” He insists, panting. “I'm glad that me agreeing to stay over again is this exciting for you, but I'm freshly home from a shift. I'm covered in sweat and possibly other fluids. I'm gross.”

“You're the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Robby replies, so earnest that Dennis is tempted to ditch the shower after all.

But no. Principles.

“I'm going to shower now. Alone.” He specifies, with an accusatory finger pointed at Jack, who's looking positively wicked with whatever plan is forming in his head. “And then I'd like to sleep with you. Literally. I deserve at least two months of the middle spot being reserved for me.”

“Whatever you want, mouse.” Jack smiles at him, unfairly soft and fond now for the fact that he was definitely planning to stick his dick up his ass five seconds ago. He thinks about how the man had looked at him when he opened the door for him tonight, teary eyed and overwhelmed.

I promise I'll make it up to you.

They're trying. And struggling, though Dennis cannot fault them for that. He slips out from between their clinging bodies which only reluctantly let him go. It's good, being back between them. He has missed this.

It's baby steps they're taking, each tiny move made towards improvement followed by some complication. But Dennis can see himself living with those down the line.

“By the way –” He starts, giving them a small grin as he makes his way towards the bathroom. “You're welcome to think about the dog I wanted while I'm showering.”