Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Common primary symptoms

 • Chronic pain

 • Fatigue

 • Brain fog

  ○ Includes:

  ○ Dizziness

  ○ Difficulty thinking

  ○ Cognitive impairment

  ○ Memory issues

 • Sleep problems

Dennis stared down at the list, almost like it had personally offended him. And honestly, it might as well have. There was more information on the pamphlet he held, but Dennis could tear his gaze away from that short, almost too short, list. Because damn it, he knows those symptoms. He has lived with them every day. For years. And now, they make sense.

Unfortunately.

Fuck, Dennis hates how well they fit. Honestly, he was a little pissed that he hadn't figured it out himself. He's a student doctor, for the Lord's sake! He should have known his own body better, he should have done more to figure out his symptoms, he-

"Hey, Huckleberry. How was your appointment?" a familiar voice asked, yanking Dennis from his wandering thoughts. Glancing up, he caught sight of Trinity as she closed the door behind her, kicking her shoes off. Something in the back of Dennis's mind niggled at him, telling him to get up and tidy her mess up. But he knew he couldn't - Trinity hated him touching her stuff, he reminded himself, and she wasn't afraid to hit him. Something that reminded him of his brothers, sometimes, but he always shoved that thought away - so instead he remained where he was. His silence, though, made Trinity pause. From her position, she couldn't see what Dennis held, or his face properly, and how damn quiet he was was almost unnerving. Sure, he wasn't a loud man, something Trinity absolutely appreciated even if she never said it, but he always jumped to respond to any questions sent his way. It was. Different. Bad different.

But before Trinity could reply, Dennis sighed. It was a long, slow sound, drawn out like he was dreading talking. Like he wanted to put it off. And he did, honestly. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. But, unfortunately, the world was a cruel place, and whatever deity was out there surely hated Dennis. So he knew he had to say it, no matter how much he didn't want to.

So when Trinity frowned, a rare look of concern in her face as she stepped forward, Dennis forced the words out.

"I. I have fibromyalgia."

Two hours earlier

As Dennis sat in another doctor's office and received his diagnosis, the world just. Frozen for a moment. He knew what fibromyalgia was, of course. He'd studied it, albeit briefly, and it had resonated with him. But, as always, he had ignored that little issue and focused on just studying.

Not the time, he had told himself, think about it when life steadies out.

Life didn't steady out for a long time after that. Not until a couple of years later, a few weeks into living with Trinity. Only then did it become even remotely steady or stable. But Dennis still refused to think about that night, when he was drowning in medical textbooks and had a moment of realization. He thought that if he ignored it long enough, the neverending ache in his joints, the sharp stabbing in his shoulders, the exhaustion that followed him everywhere, would eventually just. Disappear.

(That's a lie. Dennis knew that wasn't how it worked. He knew that there was no way his symptoms would magically leave after so long. He was a damned medical student, for God's sake. But he refused to let himself think about it).

But, eventually, other people noticed. How he flinched sometimes, like he'd been hit by nothing (he was never hit, but the lightning pain dancing under his skin still made him bite back a whimper), or how he forgot what he was saying mid word, or even his perpetual state of weariness. Some of them had been nice about it, like when Samira checked if he was alright, or when McKay offered the name of a massage therapist she was friends with (Dennis didn't even ask, he didn't want to know) after he just said he'd pulled a muscle.

Others were. Less subtle. Like when Mel had suggested he'd pulled something when turning a rather large patient over on his own (she hasn't meant to be rude, of course, but it had wounded Dennis's pride. Thankfully, she had apologized when he'd spluttered about how he used to lift hay bales on his family's farm. But still. Ouch). Or when Trinity had jumped in after he stumbled over his words, a smug smile tugging at her lips as she corrected his mistake. That has been embarrassing.

Although, nothing was more embarrassing than when Doctor Robby had seen Dennis flinch suddenly (damned flares, hitting at the most inopportune moments) and knock over a shelf when he was grabbing more gauze from the supply closet. Thankfully, nothing had broken and it was all okay, but the concerned way Dr. Robby had watched him, almost pitying, followed Dennis for the rest of his shift. As did Dr. Robby's gaze. The man had watched Dennis like a hawk for the rest of the day, likely looking for any tiny mistakes...

These memories, a long with countless others, crowded Dennis's head as he stared at the doctor he had finally been able to afford to see. Dr. Winstead was gentle as she talked Dennis through everything, from his first appointment to the blood test that needed to be done to rule anything else out, to now. But Dennis could barely hear what she was saying anymore. He could barely think beyond the blood rushing through his head. Something Dr. Winstead noticed and understood, so she soon sent Dennis on his way, with orders to contact her when he was ready to talk about a potential action plan.

So that's how Dennis found himself back at Trinity's apartment, sitting on her couch and staring blankly at the pamphlet Dr. Winstead has given him. A war raged inside of him as his eyes absentmindedly traced over the words in front of him, a frown tugging at his brow.

Because on one hand. Finally having a diagnosis, an answer, an explanation for his pain is such a big relief. Knowing it's real, it's not in his head, it's something other people have, is just. Overwhelming in the best way possible. Finally, after years of no one listening, of his pain being dismissed as growing pains or working too hard on the farm or just having bad posture, someone believed him. Someone listened. But. On the other hand...

Fuck.

The thought of his pain never ending was daunting. The realization that he was. Well. Disabled? Fuck. Sure, people with fibromyalgia could still live long, happy, fulfilling lives, Dr. Winstead had reassured him of that, but it would never be an easy life. Every day would be a struggle. Especially in a career as physically and emotionally demanding as medicine. Literally any specialty would always make him suffer, more than a lot of other non-medical jobs would. Just following his dream would be so much harder than it was for most other doctors, simply because he developed a disability.

(One that wasn't even his fault. Christ, Dr. Winstead had said that it could be caused by prolonged trauma or stress. And Dennis had been in pain since he was thirteen. So it had to have started then... He shoved the thought away, not ready to face what that would mean.)

The diagnosis fucked with Dennis, and he was stuck in his own head. At least, until the click of the front door unlocking knocked him back to the present as Trinity got home.

Chapter Text

That night, after Dennis told Trinity about his diagnosis, they did something very stupid considering they had work the next day.

They got insanely drunk – like, Trinity had never been that drunk before - ate a tub of ice cream each, and watched shitty horror comedies until the early hours of the morning.

It was Trinity's idea (although she'd blame Dennis, if anyone asked). She'd said something about Dennis needing a distraction. He'd tried to argue, of course. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry as he considered if he even had a future anymore. But Trinity had refused to let him do that. Which is why they were both hungover and dead tired (more than normal, by some miracle) when they arrived at work the next day. Luckily for Dennis, he has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance (well. Surprising to Trinity, because Dennis hasn't told her about the barn parties he sometimes snuck into when he was younger. He will. Eventually. When Trinity's surprise at his tolerance stops being funny) so he wasn't too bad off. Of course, that meant he was in charge of getting Trinity a quick coffee before their shift officially started, but that was fine. He had planned to get one for himself, anyways

Or, well. It would have been fine. If a certain pair of older doctors hadn't been standing right next to the coffee maker when Dennis walked into the break room. Abbott was the first to notice him, greeting him with a small nod and grumpy almost smile as he sipped his drink. He seemed to almost be in a good mood, which should have been surprising. The man seemed to have a perpetual frown. But judging by the hint of a bruise fading just at the edge of the neckline of his scrubs, Dennis was able to guess why he was in such a good mood. Especially considering Samira had had a fairly similar bruise when Dennis had caught a glimpse of her as he arrived... He didn't say a word about that, though. It wasn't his place, and it would have been massively hypocritical of him to judge either of them, considering the little crush he was nursing on Dr. Robby. Not that anything had happened between him and Robby, unlike Abbot and Samira. But still. A boy could dream.

(And dream he did. But Dennis dreamed of many impossible things. Including not being in pain. Of course, he previously thought that was possible, he had thought he would one day be free of his suffering. But then he got his diagnosis and now his dreams were crushed and completely hopeless, and he would probably never be a doctor and-)

Dennis was dragged out of his wandering thoughts by a familiar hand landing on his shoulder. Heat bloomed from that singular point of contact, dancing down his spine. But, as always, he ignored it. Instead of thinking about how much he desperately wanted that hand and the warmth it emanated all over him (seriously, Dennis, thought idly, Dr. Robby probably gives the best massages), Dennis focused properly as Dr. Robby smiled down at him, greeting him with a gruff, "Morning, Whitaker. How was your day off?"

Absolutely shit, Dennis thought, the mere reminder of the day prior making his skin crawl. The last thing he wanted to think about was what had happened, the diagnosis he received, but part of him thought he should tell someone he worked with. Although, his file was automatically updated, and no one *needed* to know unless it became actually relevant for whatever reason... And honestly, Dennis wasn't ready for anyone to know, especially Robby. Sure, he'd told Trinity, but he figured she needed to know because they live together. But the thought of telling anyone else? Especially Robby, the man he looked up to, respected, loved? He just. Couldn't. He didn't want Robby to see him as weak or useless.

So, he decided to not tell Robby. Not yet. Instead, he forced an awkward smile, shrugging Robby's hand off of his shoulder as he said, "It was good."

Something flicked across Robby's face, almost like uncertainty, but it was gone before Dennis could really figure it out. Abbott, though, seemed to catch it, the small snort he let out rather telling. The noise made Dennis frown, and he glanced at Abbott, trying to examine him. But he didn't get the chance to question it, because Robby quickly cleared his throat and stole Dennis's attention again. Grabbing an extra cup from the cupboard, Robby tilted his head and asked "Yeah? Did you and Santos get up to much?"

You and Santos. The way he phrased the question, like it was a given that Dennis and Trinity would spend their time together, made Dennis. Weirdly uncomfortable. Especially paired with the tight, almost annoyed smile tugging at Robby's lips. Something about that expression just looked wrong on Robby's face. But Dennis knew better than to question it. So he shrugged, watching curiously as Robby started to make another coffee (for who? Dennis wondered, before deciding it's probably for Dana. Or maybe Collins. That thought made Dennis's stomach roll, but he ignored it again) before replying, "Not really. Santos went out, and I studied. Then we just watched a movie when she got home."

It wasn't a complete lie. Trinity had gone out, and Dennis had studied. Admittedly, his 'studying' had been research into fibromyalgia, but still. It was technically studying. Not that Dennis would tell Robby what he was doing. He just. Wasn't ready for anyone else to know.

Fortunately, Robby took the lie easily, not even questioning as he nodded. Less fortunately, Abbott seemed to notice something about Dennis that made him pause and tilt his head curiously, examining the younger man. His examination didn't last long, though, because Samira entered the room at that exact second, instantly stealing his attention. Dennis released a sigh of relief as Abbot focused on his not-so-secret girlfriend, but he didn't get the chance to relax. Instead, his attention was stolen this time, by Robby holding a mug out to him. Dennis blinked in surprise for a few seconds, long enough for it to become awkward, before recovering with an even more awkward smile. His heart stuttered in his chest as he took the mug, muttering, "Thank you, Dr. Robby."

That earned him a quick half smile as Robby visibly held back from rolling his eyes, but that was the norm at this point. He's given up on trying to get Dennis to just call him Robby, but he still rolled his eyes whenever Dennis used his title. The younger man couldn't tell if Robby was genuinely annoyed, or starting to get endeared by his mannerisms. He really hoped it was the latter... Before Dennis could fall down that rabbit hole (again), Robby distracted him by asking, "Did you come in with Santos?"

"Uh, yeah," Dennis replied instinctively, internally cursing his own awkwardness when the words stumble out of his mouth. Thankfully, Robby didn't comment on it. In fact, he seemed distracted as he stepped aside, letting Samira get closer to the counter when she moved closer to Abbot without checking her surroundings. Robby's sudden move forced him into Dennis's personal space, and the younger man's breath caught at the unexpected proximity. Antibacterial hand wash, smoke and something uniquely Robby filled Dennis's nose, overwhelming him, and part of him desperately wanted to lean into it, to chase more of the scent. He knew none of those components should have worked together, and he probably wouldn't have liked them in any other context, but this was Robby. That was enough to make it the most wonderful combination in the world.

That thought was enough for Dennis to shake his head, reminding himself it's wrong. He couldn't let himself give into his wants. Robby was his boss, for one, and straight as far as Dennis knew. Besides, even if Robby was into men, there was no way he'd choose Dennis, not when men like Abbot - older, more experienced, more attractive, and definitely better aligned with Robby in literally ever way - existed. So, swallowing down his feelings, Dennis stepped back, continuing awkwardly, "She's at the nurse's station, sent me to get coffee for us."

Robby made a small noise of understanding at that, nodding. Something danced across his eyes when Dennis stepped away, almost like disappointment, but that couldn't be right. Dennis knew he had to be seeing things. Wishful thinking, and all that. Thankfully, Robby didn't notice Dennis's wandering mind, or at least he pretended not to as he clapped Dennis on the shoulder. The warmth almost burned, despite Robby's hand not actually being that hot, and Dennis was once again torn between pulling away from how much it almost hurt, and seeking more of it out like the woman who reached for Jesus's robe. Like Robby's touch could heal him just as the woman was healed in the Bible. But he didn't get the chance to decide, because Robby squeezed his shoulder and said, his tone verging on playful, "I'll let you make her drink then. Caffeine-deprived Santos is somehow less... personable than caffeinated Santos."

That startled a small laugh out of Dennis before he quickly bit his lip to silence himself. The way Robby had said it, with a small half smile and a teasing tone, made it clear he was just joking, but Dennis still felt a little bad about laughing at anything even remotely bad about Trinity. He also felt a little embarrassed that he laughed at all, although that was quickly forgotten when Robby's smile grew, like he was proud he made Dennis laugh. The man looked unfairly good smiling like that...

However, Robby didn't comment on Dennis's laugh, or how quickly he shut himself up. Instead, he just squeezed Dennis's shoulder again, before letting go and stepping around the younger man. The loss of contact almost felt like an actual loss, like Dennis had suddenly been cut off from oxygen, but Robby remained thankfully oblivious to the ache in Dennis's chest as he said, "I'll see you on the floor, kid. Enjoy your coffee."

And with that, Robby left, and Dennis just stared as he went. He wanted to say something witty or funny, to maybe make Robby laugh, but he couldn't think of anything. So he just stood there, holding the coffee Robby made him as he silently watched Robby leave.