Chapter Text
The ER was buzzing as usual, even in its “dead” hours it was a consistent flurry of activity- the hums and beeps of lifesaving machines buried under periodic yells for assistance, residents barking orders at each other, groans of pain, pneumatic doors whooshing open and closed. It was all a beautiful, chaotic symphony when it was running well, a total shit show when it wasn’t.
Dennis was used to chaos, completely familiar with the concept of systems failing, everything that could go wrong doing so. His journey from Broken Bow to The Pitt had been that way- chaotic, rocky to say the least. But he was nothing if not tenacious. If he hadn’t found that abandoned wing to squat in, hadn’t been offered that truly unexpected kindness from Trinity, he still would’ve made do. “Country boys make do”- she had made that joke about a hundred times since he had moved in until it had lost all meaning.
He was good at riding the waves (a surfing metaphor was funny considering he had never even seen the ocean), so even when the tsunami that was Pittfest crashed down on them, it didn’t break him. It only made him quicker, honed his sense of knowing where he should be, how to stay out of certain colleagues’ way when they were having a rough shift, how to be unseen, unnoticed. A leftover skill from his childhood of screaming matches between his parents and siblings that constantly tormented him, perhaps.
Trinity had noticed though. She saw his pattern of fading into the background until called upon. She started calling him Mouse in addition to Huckleberry, Sad Sack, Asshole, Fag when they were home alone and she really wanted to scandalize him, giggling hysterically at how his face would turn red and he’d start to stammer at the casual slur.
“I’m just fucking with you- you’re such a Huckleberry, my god.” She would laugh and he would mutter some threat he didn’t mean about going to HR. It was nice, the affectionate, sometimes prickly ribbing between them. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that, the feeling of closeness with someone else. It had been so long more or less on his own, he had to remind himself that oh yeah, friends like to joke around sometimes, right, right…
Trinity had this image of him in her head, he felt, of some hopeless, backwoods bumpkin kid that didn’t know his head from his ass, and maybe there was some truth to that when it came to certain things. Like dating for one. Sex for another. He knew himself, was comfortable with his sexuality, and he knew what he wanted, what he liked. He was just...unsure of how to get it. And some of the things he wanted, well...
He had already made the mistake of drunkenly confiding in her one night that he basically had the biggest crush in the world on their attending since the moment he saw him and oh lord- that was a mistake. She hadn’t let him live that down even still, months and months later. She had stared at him in disbelief- “Oh Dennis…” A rare moment of using his god-given name. “You’re down bad for Dr. Robby?” She had looked up at the ceiling, closing her eyes- the picture of serenity. “Oh this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He had managed to talk her down, at least make her promise not to ever, ever, ever reference it while they were at work for fear of making his life a living hell. She could be mean when she wanted, but she wasn’t downright cruel. Not to him, anyway.
Besides, he really wanted to stay professional. They were doctors, damn it. He wasn’t going to let an infatuation impact his career, not when he had given up so much to get where he was now.
That was the plan at first, at least.
He stood in the centre of the maelstrom that was their workplace, his eyes trained on one thing and one thing only.
Dr. Robby was really the best boss you could ask for: unflappable, unshakable, somehow right where he needed to be every time, and feeling like he was everywhere at one. Patient. Always had an answer. Could sometimes be snappy, unkind in stressful moments (of which there were many in a hospital, let's be honest) but always quick to apologize after. That wasn’t even touching Dennis’ own personal bias when it came to his physicality. He was, without exaggerating in the slightest, everything Dennis wanted in a man and Dennis, although maintaining his composure best he could, couldn’t help but greedily drink in even the smallest of interactions. Trinity told him he had daddy issues and honestly- not wrong, but also just the tip of the iceberg.
He was just always there, a hand steadying his back, a kind, almost fatherly voice murmuring praise in his ear: “This is good. Santos, your charting should look more like Whittaker’s here.” “Nice job with those stitches, Whittaker.” “Great work today, kid. You crushed it.”
He was just the best. God, it was fucking torture working with him.
And so, greedy as he was, he started to want more.
Just watching Robby, stealing the furtive glances when he could, being painfully aware there were always lots of eyes around him at all times, it just wasn’t enough. Going back to the apartment after a shift, telling Trinity he was “dead and calling it an early night”, ignoring her protest (she would never admit it but she loved introducing him to various bad reality tv and sheltered as he was had never heard of any of them, of course) to retreat to his bedroom. He’d crawl into bed, bringing up some porn of some kind or other on his phone but knowing damn well he’d abandon it about sixty seconds later. There was only thing at the forefront of his fantasies, and it only took thinking of Robby’s large, practiced hands sliding over his body, touching him where he liked to be touched, a bearded jaw scratchy against his cheek as filthy promises were purred into his ear, telling him how good he was, that he was 'his good boy' and he would be finished, panting softly as he spurted hot over his own belly.
Then he would lie there, it cooling on his skin but the warm coil of lust still tight in his stomach and un-sated. It was that feeling, that itch he couldn’t get rid of that circumvented any shame he probably should’ve been feeling at jerking it to his boss nightly but hey, he wasn’t hurting anyone. Robby would be none the wiser and he could just go on torturing himself for the time being.
As fate would have it, only a short time later, the hoodie incident occurred and it was then that he realized how truly fucked up he was and the lengths he would go to.
It had been a long shift. Not punishing, nothing really terrible happened, but it was just steady enough it had been hard to get a break or moment to himself. He had just cracked open his locker, was fumbling with his backpack when Dr. Robby came by.
“Hey kid, you got a sec?”
“Oh!” He struggled not freeze, just to be casual. It was easier when they had bloody hands inside a patient, when there was the small matter of life and death to contend with. At least that was the ultimate distraction from Robby standing so close to him. It was hard to be horny when you were trying to keep someone from flatlining.
He wasn’t wearing his usual grey hoodie, instead had it tied around a gym bag that hung off his shoulder. Dennis was blessed with a glorious view of his arms, and almost popped a boner at the dark hair and lean muscle he wasn’t often privy to. At the point he was at, Robby could’ve flashed an ankle and he would’ve been near fainting like some puritanical Victorian.
“Yeah, hey. What’s up?” Yes, casual. Very casual. Casual was good. He was just a regular guy, shooting the shit and definitely not thinking of fucking his boss.
Robby smiled and Dennis could’ve wept just seeing the crow’s feet around his eyes scrunching up. Why was he so hot? In what universe were wrinkles so fucking hot?
“Just wanted to let you know that Mr. Gillis ended up pulling through okay. He’s in recovery now.”
“Oh!” Dennis was pleased to hear it. He shyly smiled back before finding something on the wall behind Robby very interesting to look at instead so he didn't start going into cardiac arrest like Mr. Gilis. “That’s great. Yeah. I’m glad.”
“Well, you did excellent work with his graft. And good call for double-checking his labs. He would’ve been much worse off if you hadn’t caught that error.”
“Thanks Dr. Robby,” he muttered, wanting to die as he felt himself start to blush.
“See you tomorrow?” Robby paid it no mind if he even noticed at all. He clamped his hand on Dennis’ shoulder, gave it that familial squeeze that Dennis had to fight himself not to lean into.
“Yup,” he replied weakly, just melting under the touch. “See ya then.”
Robby grinned and with a nod, started to walk away as he slipped his headphones in.
Dennis breathed out shakily, wishing that moment would’ve lasted just a bit longer, but then-
As he watched Robby leave, the hoodie had loosened around the straps of the bag and fell to the floor behind him.
“Oh- Dr. Robby-“
He didn’t notice it fall and didn’t hear Dennis calling his name over his music.
Dennis loped over with the best of intentions, truly he did. But as soon as his hand wrapped around the soft wooly material and the whiff of Robby curled up into his nose, he couldn’t help himself.
He glanced around sneakily, feeling like such a creep but the want in his belly was burning so hot now, and no one was around. Not a soul to witness him stuffing Robby's hoodie into his backpack and hurry home, keenly feeling the weight of it the entire way like it was going to burn straight right through.
That night, with the stolen garment over his face and Trinity being out on a date with Garcia anyway, he could be as loud as he wanted. He moaned and whimpered, writhed around with the overwhelming aroma taking over his senses. There was something like fresh laundry, a detergent maybe. Something like cedar, juniper- a cologne? Deodorant? And there was the unmistakable musk of sweat, of exertion. He came three times that evening, the last one in the dead of night. He had woken up, forgotten he was wearing Robby’s hoodie until he breathed in and was instantly rock hard, needy again for someone he definitely could not have. The last orgasm was almost painful to his oversensitive flesh and he cried out by accident but Trinity was either staying at Garcia’s or dead asleep so it didn’t matter anyway.
The hoodie kept him going for a while and his thievery had gone undetected, unpunished. The next day he had overheard Robby asking Dana if she had seen the sweater, frozen even as Dana half-joked “How should I know? I’m not your damn mother.” and Robby had just laughed sheepishly. “Fair enough, just asking. Must have left it at the gym.” No questions came his way in the days after- and why would they? He should have felt guilty then, should have felt like a sick little pervert but all he felt was an adrenaline rush and a thrill that he had gotten away with it.
It took about a month until he noticed with disappointment that it was starting to lose its Robby-ness. He’d have to really concentrate to get even a glimmer of what once was, but even then it was more likely his brain was playing tricks on him, merely remembering the scent where there was nothing any longer.
He thought about giving it back somehow, or it mysteriously reappearing at Robby’s desk like it had never been missing at all, but it was too risky. If someone saw him with it- god knows what slew of uncomfortable questions would be heading his way like 'uh, Whittaker, why does my hoodie smell like cum?'
So instead he carefully folded it up like it was some priceless relic and stowed it away in his closet where he would take it out every now and then for old times sake, lovingly rub the sleeves between his fingers.
Turns out, that was just the start.
Since then his shameful collection steadily grew, became a tiny shrine, a museum of his obsession. Nothing quite as lucky (or thrilling) as the hoodie, but still, objects he could take out and hold, reminisce and fawn over: A pen Robby had absent-mindedly pressed against his lips in thought, a crumpled piece of scrap paper with everyone’s lunch orders (and his own name!) scrawled in Robby’s messy handwriting, an amusingly tiny party hat Dr. Abbot had placed on his head as a joke, letting the rest of the ER know it was his birthday much to his displeasure (Dennis had snickered with the rest of them but quietly rescued it from the trash can as soon as he could).
Now, now back in the present, he stood watching Dr. Robby as always, waiting for the moment, waiting for him to be inevitably pulled this way or that.
And- bingo.
Off he rushed to advise on whatever while Dennis, his favourite (or so Trinity teased), took a precious moment just to sate his fucked up little need. The prize today? A paper coffee cup Robby had been nursing off of all morning. It took the man hours to finish one cup, heating it back up over and over where most of the other staff shot it down like water as often as humanly possible. He didn’t know why he liked it so much but the simple fact that Robby took his time with it was endearing, pleasing to him. Maybe because in his late night fantasies, that's the kind of lover Robby would be; he'd take his time, be as thorough as he was in the workplace, take hours to make sure Dennis was wrung out completely like the little sponge he was-
So Dennis had watched. And waited. So, so patiently.
He licked his lips nervously, already fantasizing about being back the safe privacy of his room, pressing his lips to the rim of the cup, the white edge stained where Robby’s lips had been. Would he able to taste him like he imagined, or would there just be the flavour of paper and old, stale coffee? Either way, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to trace his thumb over it, wanted to mouth at it, swipe his tongue over it in the hopes that even the leftover shade of Robby’s saliva would join with his and- when did he become such a freak?
No time for moral quandaries. The station was as deserted as it ever would be. Dana was on the far side but on a phone call, her back to him. Princess was fussing with a pile of folders. McKay was down the corridor busy consoling an upset patient with Mel. Now was his moment.
He strode to the desk where Robby had stood only seconds before. No one paid him any attention, didn’t acknowledge he was even there. His trembling hand closed around the paper cup, and he could feel the warmth from the last mouthful or so of coffee still swirling in the bottom, black like he knew Robby preferred it.
His mouth was so dry. He swallowed thickly, had meant to be as quick and quiet as usual. He just had to pocket the cup and safely bring it over to his locker, easy peasy. Had to get rid of the coffee though. What was the harm? No one would notice anything amiss.
He tipped it up, carefully making sure he was drinking from the exact place Robby had. It poured into his mouth in one swig, slid easily down his throat. He held it there against his lips for a moment, just luxuriating in the imagined connection between them. Robby’s lips. On his. Pressing into him insistently, making him yield to an exploring tongue, wanting to taste-
“…Whittaker?”
Dennis’ eyes went wide as he choked.
Robby had snuck up on him, a soft frown on his face where there was usually smiles just for Dennis.
“That was uh,” he started awkwardly. “My coffee, I believe.”
Dennis knew he had turned blood red, could feel the heat in his cheeks. “Dr. Robby- I um, I am so sorry. I must have gotten mixed up, I thought that was mine.” A pretty nice save if he might say so. Just an honest mistake.
Robby looked at him a moment but just shook his head, a wry smile erasing his frown. “Well, they keep telling me I need to lay off the caffeine anyway, I guess.”
“I’m so so sorry,” Dennis stammered again feeling hot all over underneath his scrubs. “Let me get you a new one.”
“No, no,” Robby chuckled. “It’s okay, kid. Was almost done anyway. You clearly needed it more than me.”
He left Dennis on own again, as easy as that and Dennis breathed out a little sigh of relief. A close call.
“Whittaker!” Dana called out, peering at him over her glasses. “Don’t you have patients to care for or something?”
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted half-jokingly, hearing her mutter something like ‘kids…’ as he scurried away to stash his latest contraband.
The rest of the shift was proceeding as normal once his blood pressure returned to a steadier rhythm. Normal as a slew of back-to-back patients, one with a blown-off arm (homemade explosive gone wrong, police had to be notified), one with lungs full of mold (horrifying X-ray, that was disgusting) and a college kid high as a kite on several different drugs at once who kept staring at Dr. Robby and insisting he was seeing Jesus. Dennis could sympathize with that last one.
He was catching up on his charts when Dr. Abbot sidled up to his desk.
“Whittaker.”
“Hey Dr. Abbot.”
“How’s the day been? Hope you left us something nice and juicy.”
Dennis was used to the way Dr. Abbot spoke now, a strange mixture of blunt, kind, sarcastic, often toeing the line of work-appropriate. He enjoyed it in contrast to how serious and borderline uptight many of the day crew could be. It was nothing for him to grin back and easily banter.
“There’s a hiker that got mauled by a bear in bay three, that juicy enough for ya?”
Abbot whistled, clearly delighted in his morbid way. “Ooh, nasty. What kinda bear?”
Dennis paused. “I uh, I dunno. Black bear? I have no idea.”
“Polar bears are the worst, did you know that?”
“No, Dr. Abbot, I did not know that.” Dennis bit back a laugh. He was sure he was about to tell him.
“Oh yeah,” he continued, tone dead serious but a playful sparkle in his eye. “Most bears will attack you if they feel threatened or territorial, but polar bears actively hunt humans. They’ll kill ya just for fun.”
“Good to know.” Dennis shook his head, smiling.
“What’s that?” Dr. Robby had appeared on his other side and he immediately stiffened self-consciously, the coffee cup incident still fresh and on his mind.
“I was just educating your star pupil on the deadliness of polar bears.”
Robby just looked at them, brows raised and waiting for more context. “Okay…?”
“Don’t ask.” Dennis muttered, refusing to look at either of them now after the ‘star pupil’ comment.
“Don’t you teach them anything, brother?” Abbot teased.
“Just the essentials,” Robby responded dryly.
“Booooooo. Whittaker, we gotta get you on the night shift. Get you some cases to really cut your teeth on.”
“Jack, you’re not poaching my-“ Robby halted, a strange look coming over his face.
My…what? What was he about to say?
Dr. Abbot grinned predatorily, nudging his elbow into Dennis. “He’s a creature of the night, brother. I can tell just by looking at him.”
Dennis couldn’t help but smirk, feel a little warm being between the two attending and being fought over no less, apparently.
Robby just rolled his eyes. “You can have him once or twice a month if he wants to- but no more. I need him here.”
Dr. Robby needs me. The thought made him giddy. He was wanted- needed. He wasn’t replaceable. He was Robby’s, even if just in a professional sense. Even if he didn’t mean anything by it, that flippant comment meant so, so much to Dennis it hurt, twisted his guts up a little. He was so fucked.
Abbot was looking him now, he could feel it. A glance up and he couldn’t read the expression, couldn’t parse it other than the uncomfortable feeling of being seen when you don’t want to be.
“Stop, you’re tearing this family apart,” he quipped dryly, unable to help a smirk breaking when Abbot guffawed, a deep belly laugh.
“Ah shit, you’re funny, kid.”
“Yeah,” Robby agreed with a crooked grin. “Hilarious. Anyway, I’m heading out now. You got everything you need?”
“Always, brother. Take it easy.”
“Bye Dr. Robby.”
They watched him leave and Dennis once again had the urge, an itch as he was struck by a thought. He didn’t know where Robby lived and so now he was curious. Was it simple, humble? Did he live in a big house, nicer than anything Dennis could ever hope to afford? Was his street quiet and quaint, did he have a nice view? What else could he glean about the man from this distance?
Again he was struck by Dr. Abbot’s eyes on him and hoped the hunger wasn’t too apparent in his expression, hadn’t bled into his eyes and slack mouth.
“Well,” he tried for nonchalance. “I’m gonna head home too.”
“Oh I’m sure.”
Dennis paused, chanced a glance back at Dr. Abbot’s face but the man was inscrutable. It was kind of an odd thing to say, his tone was a little strange.
“Well, catch you later, Dr. Abbot.”
“Later, Whittaker.”
He rushed out of there, gathering his things in a hurry and more pertinent things on his mind than Dr. Abbot's oddities. Oh god what was he doing, was he really doing this?
When he rushed out into the open air, he managed to catch sight of Robby cutting through the park across the street where they sometimes had after-work beers. It was a warm, sunny day, made sense he’d be walking home. He seemed to recall an allusion to living nearby some time ago, Dana teasing him that he’d move into The Pitt if they’d let him.
Not that it mattered, honestly. He was ready to go halfway across the city in pursuit of…what was it? The burning need to torture himself apparently. He had never done drugs besides a little weed with Trinity now and then, but he imagined that this what it felt like when you were deep in the throes of addiction, when all you could think of was your next hit- and Dennis needed his fix. He needed it bad enough he was now officially stalking his attending.
It just made his heart ache, watching Robby from a careful scant block away. The way the sun shone down, lighting up his hair, his skin. How he stopped for the traffic lights, gently drumming his fingers against the side of his leg to what was no doubt awful dad rock blaring in his headphones. The way he finally seemed more at peace, warmer, happier these days. He deserved that- to be happy. Robby was the sun and he was just a tiny speck of a star somewhere in his orbit. Even if it was from the shadows, Dennis couldn’t help but want to bask in whatever warmth he could. He could subsist on scraps, had literally done it before and made it work, this wasn’t so different.
Robby had stopped to tie his shoe and he had been so deep in thought he almost missed it. He had gotten too close and froze, too afraid to even comically duck behind something, but the man never turned around and just kept walking at a leisurely speed.
A couple turns later, on a quiet street lined with huge trees, Dennis saw it. Robby’s home. It was nice, of course. A charming brownstone with a brightly painted yellow door. He stopped in his tracks, breathing hard though they hadn’t been walking particularly fast. He watched Robby fiddle with his keys, check his mailbox and then he was stepping over the threshold and the door was closed behind him.
He should have turned back then, settled for returning home with his stupid fucking coffee cup but no, he felt like tempting fate twice in a day. He was just going to walk past, just take a brief, closer look. Get a little residual thrill from knowing he was only mere feet away from where Robby lived, ate, slept…
Nothing momentous happened, he had no swooning epiphany. He merely stood in front for a moment, lingering at the bottom of the steps and looking up at the windows that were mostly shielded from prying eyes by simple blinds. He wished he could see what the inside looked like- and immediately he shook that thought out of his head. What was next, breaking and entering? No, that was too much of a violation compared to the little bits and bobs (half of which was literal garbage) in his hoard. He would never disrespect the sanctity of someone's home, would never want to push his little infringements that far.
The light just inside the front door turned on which finally spooked him enough to get the hell out of there, shoving his hands in his pockets and briskly heading back the way he came.