Chapter Text
Whitaker didn't know when it started, or maybe he did.
Pittsburgh had always been the soil for trouble to grow in, for people to run around and get injured, hence why the PTMC existed. Pittsburgh Traumatic Medical centre was always busy, the triage filled with angry patients who had to wait several hours just to get an actual diagnosis, many of them landed with the security– too violent, too crazed.
Whitaker remembered one case, a man named Doug Driscoll hitting Dana right in the face behind the ambulance park where she was smoking. Blunt enough that she had to rest for a while. That man was soon arrested and Dana was on the verge of quitting.
Whitaker remembered it, how she murmured to him when he went out to see her smoking right after the pittfest’s bloody chaos, “I’m done.”
His heart felt heavy, it always did, especially towards Dana. Someone who reminded him of a motherly figure, of someone he could rely on. After all that was his first ever shift. So he stayed silent that time, his hands naturally fiddling with his sleeves before he muttered back, “Why?”
Dana stared for a moment or two, huffing out some smoke, “Why do you think, kid?” her tone was almost casual, as if trying to comfort Whitaker and joke around. But she didn’t have to act alright, Whitaker knew how it felt too, a bit too well, “The pittfest was tough”
“It was,” she huffed again.
“I don't want you to go” He muttered finally, looking down. His fingers shivered from the cold.
He wished he had a cigarette to hold as well, something to put between his teeth to stop the chattering, but the time to ask for a smoke passed by and he’s forced to settle into the silence as Dana stares, eyebrow raised for a moment before she smiles, a rise on her lips that gives Whitaker hope just for a single second, “That’s nice of you, kid, but I don’t think it’s up to you”
Harsh,
but true.
Whitaker smiles but it lacks genuinity, something to pass to Dana before he watches her leave, her denim jacket hopefully keeping her warm.
Whitaker swore he was going to freeze to death at this rate. So he shoved his hands in his jacket’s pockets and walked upwards to the hospital’s abandoned floor, floor 8.
He remembers the disinfectant, the creaking of the bed as he laid down on it, too tired to change clothes. He hoped for a better shift at the pitt tomorrow, something less painful to deal with.
His eyes were tired, closing, his breathing even before he jumped up at the sight of …santos?
“Wow, huckleberry,” she snorted, looking around at the small room. The bed was clean but the chairs in the corner were stacked, Whitaker’s study books on the dusty windowsill– she wonders how he’d read them if he’s going to sneeze the entire time, and lastly at the very real Huckleberry.
“You know” she starts, padding into the room and smiling at the tired boy, “I thought of you as a huckleberry because of the farm sad backstory…” her voice slowed, looking him up and down.
He looked like a sad mouse more than anything and it made her smile almost fondly, although she tried to not show it too much, “but this is way too much”
“I, I only come here sometimes after shifts” Whitaker struggled to explain, “I’m just in between places right now”
“This was your fist shift, huckleberry” she snorted, eyebrow raising before she sighed. She knew Whitaker wouldn’t be able to explain it or better yet, he’ll try and it’ll be a funny entertaining saga of huckleberry’s life but she doesn’t want to hear it right now, “My apartment has an extra room” she chides before Whitaker even speaks up.
“Extra bedroom and bathroom– “I can't pay rent” Whitaker interrupts, looking down, “You’re generous, but I don't think I’ll be able to afford it right now.”
Santos stares for a moment before she laughs, softly enough for no one below to hear them but she laughs nonetheless, “Jesus Christ," Whitaker flinches, “You don’t need to do all that. How about helping me with plumbing and cleaning?” she offers and Whitaker smiles slightly, “I’m fine with that”
She shrugs towards the door and gestures for them to leave, “come on then, huckleberry, my new plumbing saint” and Whitaker’s cheeks flush at the new nickname– God, he hopes it’s not. Well, not God, but … nevermind.
As he scrambles to get his stuff, Santos huffs, “be fast before I change my mind, huckleberry” and Whitaker squeaks in a way to say he understood before he took his backpack and study books. He smiled nervously, “t-that’s all, we can go”
Santos raises her eyebrow, entertained, before she walks down the stairs, her car keys jingling in a comforting way. He’s found a new home and he can’t feel warmer than he was already.
𓏵
It’s been months since then. Whitaker was sure he got a whole new glow up living with a lesbian roommate, a.k.a Trinity Santos.
He’s grown closer with her, enough to jab her with comments after she starts jokingly insulting him. Not that he never did before, it was just a lot more mutual now.
And here he was, munching on a ham sandwich he made in the kitchen while he waited for Trinity to finish her typing extravaganza, “come on trin, we have to go” and he swore he saw Trinity glare and roll her eyes before she stood up and closed her phone, tying her hair into the neat ponytail she always has and shrugs her bag on, “Jeez, huckleberry. Never took you for a workaholic”
“I just actually care” he quips and Trinity snorts, fondly enough as she bumps with him before they leave the apartment.
The car drive there wasn’t too silent, they talked about the usual– patients, the drama at the triage and the begrudging day that was about to start. “If I see another affair in the ER, I’ll probably lose it” trinity sighs as she pulls over, parking somewhere with shade in case the car seats burn the time they come back.
Whitaker chuckles at that but he agrees wholeheartedly, he was dragged in once with the husband shielding himself behind Whitaker and the wife crying and shouting, throwing things specifically at Whitaker, “you whore! You fa–“
“Earth to huckleberry” Trinity interrupts with her waving her hand in front of Whitaker’s face, so much for having a pretty mouse boy face. “Oh, yeah” Whitaker blinks and smiles awkwardly before entering the pitt with her, sighing at the loud voices in the triage.
His fingers shift to caress his cross necklace, and he breathes in and out before entering the locker room. The shift has finally started.
𓏵
The shift started off smoothly, with Whitaker praying he didn't have to change into a new pair of scrubs again. Trinity would have called him out if that happened and just the thought of it made him chuckle under his breath before he looked up at the screen, checking which patient to take care of next.
He hadn’t noticed Dana staring at him until a few seconds later and he blinked, awkwardly so, “oh, uh, hi Dana”
Dana smiled in amusement before she put on her glasses, looking at the paper as she spoke, “tough day already, kid?”
“Kind of” He mutters back with a small laugh, his fingers finding their way to his lips as he rubbed it, “any luck on finding the parents of the kid?”
“Not much to find, kid” Dana replies with a sigh, taking off her glasses and putting down the paper with a rustle before looking up at the intern, “although, you seem to be really attached to that patient”
Whitaker flinches before he laughs, softly, awkwardly, so painfully obvious. He didn’t mean to come off as attached to the kid, he just found him relatable.
Farm boy, ex-amish– probably, the bloody cross necklace attached around his neck like a rope. He couldn’t help it, it felt like he was seeing his younger self again.
“Not really,” he finally replies, rubbing the back of his neck while he stares at Dana with her eyebrow raised just for a second, “you sure, kid? I’m here to talk even if it’s hard.” and that’s the hard part, Whitaker sighs, it’s not hard, it’s just that something’s holding him back.
His throat tightens and he smiles weakly, “I’m sure.” he mutters before adding on, “but, uh, tell me if there’s any notice” and Dana nods almost reluctantly, still skeptical but she couldn’t prod any further.
Whitaker was heading to the patient around the hall who was screaming for a sandwich, already pocketing one to give before a rough hand landed on his shoulder, rubbing gently. It felt like an electric shock and his breath hitched before he looked up– Dr. Robby.
“Good shift, Whitaker?” he asked and Whitaker nods numbly before being stirred around, the sandwich in his hand turning too soft, enough for him to forget for a few minutes before he perks up, eyes wide, “I-I was actually going to give a patient a sandwich–” and before he knew it, Robby was taking his sandwich and placing it on the counter, gesturing for one of the nurses to give it to the screaming patient before looking back down at Whitaker.
“Oh,” Whitaker mutters, suddenly having no excuse to give, “oh” Robby echoes.
It felt like he was in trouble, keyword: felt. “Is something the matter, dr robby?” he finally asks and he sees Robby cross his arms on his chest. Whitaker couldn’t help but stare at Robby’s rough hands– was it rough if it held him? His gentle caring smile with his eyes so bright—
“Whitaker?” Robby repeats and Whitaker was sure he was red faced from how embarrassing that was. Did he just start daydreaming about his boss?
“Ah, yes, sorry” Whitaker mutters, hands fiddling naturally around his cross, looking up at Robby’s amused face, his smile so contagious but he coughed awkwardly, “What did you say, Dr. Robby?”
The older man huffs, looking around before repeating what he said earlier, “I was wondering if you were alright. Dana mentioned something about a kid you were taking care of here” Whitaker flinches and he looks down, “I need you to know you can always tell me anything, anything that happens in the ER is sent to me, Whitaker” he emphasises and Whitaker nods.
Robby smiles gently before he gestures to Whitaker’s cross necklace, “is this related to the boy’s family?”
Whitaker doesn’t know what to say. He couldn’t lie, it’ll be too obvious but he can’t tell the truth, it’ll be too complicated.
In the end he nods, his finger caressing his cross before looking at the room trauma two where the kid was nodding while Dr. Mohan gently talked to him. “Kind of,” it was vague but he wasn’t lying and he hoped that made Robby back off.
Robby sighed. He probably realised he couldn’t get Whitaker to crack so he gestured that he was free to go before he went to tend to another patient that just came in.
Whitaker on the other hand sighed a breath of relief before bee lining to the kid’s room, smiling softly at Dr. Mohan who informed him softly, “he’s doing well, he’ll be admitted to peds for observation later” she looked at the kid before looking at Whitaker, the worry on his face too obvious and she sighed softly, “Child Protective Services will need to be looped in, given the circumstances.”
Whitaker flinches again and he swears this is the nth time he did that but he looks up at Samira, “oh,” he muttered dumbly.
He knew it was the right thing to call the CPS and make sure the kid was safe but he couldn’t help how it felt. Like a cold coin against his tongue, unfamiliar, terrifying but necessary. He nods and tries to snap out of it, “did he ask for anyone? I didn't see any parents asking for him”
Samira stares for a bit before she sighs, “no information regarding that, all we know is that the neighbours called” and Whitaker nods helplessly.
What else could he do? So he nods at Samira before she leaves and he stares at the kid.
“Am I going to be okay?” the kid murmured softly, voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming in pain for a while. Whitaker inhales and exhales, he hopes not. “You’ll be okay”
Whitaker smiles and walks towards the head of the gurney, hand shaky so he tries calming it down around the railing.
The kid doesn’t seem to believe him but he nods, his eye catching the glint of Whitaker’s cross necklace.
“A..are you religious too?” the whisper was sharper than it should have and Whitaker swallowed, mouth going dry but he nods, as if his body was forced to, “yeah, you can say that”
The kid looks almost terrified for a minute and Whitaker swears to himself internally but he tries his best to warm the kid up, “how are you feeling now? Any numbness?”
The kid shakes his head, and instead he asks more, “how does it feel…?”
It felt like Whitaker was being dragged, his mouth drying, the kid clearly needs hope and he’s asking for it from Whitaker– worst person if anything. But he smiles and tries to calm down, “It’s calm” a lie, “I feel more peaceful” another lie, “is there anything you’re worried about?”
The kid stares before he shakes his head, his own hand caressing his own cross and Whitaker swears he’s about to cry.
The sniffles loud in the silent room, the calm beeping already heavy, “I don't want to go home” he whispered in such a broken manner that Whitaker’s eyes softened.
“It’s fine” his voice soft as he laid his hand on the kid’s, “you did the right thing coming in”
It’s probably because he was a kid but he was quick to doze off after being comforted and Whitaker stares for a minute or two before he leaves, the chart in his hand feeling heavy.
The walk to the breakroom was hard, his chest heaving up and down too fast and his eyes watering but he looked down the whole time, he hoped nobody noticed.
He remembered the look on the kid’s face and how much it reminded him of himself back when he was in the barn, clutching onto a dirty rag and the barn cat meowing in distress.
The sniffles felt like needles and his tears burnt. It wasn’t calm, it wasn’t peaceful.
He sighed shakily, plucking a cup out of the dispenser to get coffee. He needs to calm down, this place isn’t appropriate for him to be having a breakdown in the first place.
His hand clutches his cross necklace and he whispers a prayer under his breath.
It tastes bitter on his tongue yet so familiar, so warm, just like home.
𓏵
Whitaker didn't know how much time passed by since he entered the breakroom, the cup still filled with the coffee he made so he'd snap out of it. And it didn't help that he was sitting there so stiffly as if one wrong move could cost his life.
He didn't hear the door creak open nor the gentle eyes crashing down on him. Not until he felt those same rough hands on his shoulder again, squeezing so gently that Whitaker almost started hating it.
“You alright, whitaker?” The rough bass voice broke him out of his stupor just for a moment or two before he nodded, looking up at Robby.
He can see it clearly now. The oddly gentle look in his eyes, the small smile that Whitaker swore he never showed to anyone, the rough hands that handled death more than he could know.
“You always seem to say you're fine when you're not, Whitaker” Robby gruffly muttered, so honest that it made Whitaker turn red. Was he that obvious?
He cleared his throat and insisted, “I'm fine, Dr. Robby.”
Robby raised an eyebrow at that and Whitaker knew that he wasn't the least bit convinced, “I swear I am Dr. Robby” he muttered shakily, losing the grip on the cup of coffee as he looked down.
The glint of his cross necklace made everything heavier than it should be. The gentleness of his boss and the unwanted feelings always threaten to choke out his throat. I like you, his heart beats harshly, I need to tell you how much I like you.
“Well,” Robby sighs, his voice naturally smooth and it stings Whitaker like a live wire, “I'm here if you need opening up”
He knew he wouldn't give up so easily, that he can't crack Whitaker yet so he steps back, gives him space and God, does it make Whitaker feel more stupidly in love.
He pats his shoulder again, lightly this time as he steps away, grabbing a cup to drink water before leaving. And all the while Whitaker stares with longing, yearning for something so sinful.
The door shutting was harsh, even when it was so gently closed to not startle him. Harsh in a way that it felt grounding in the worst ways possible, harsh in a way that Whitaker started whispering prayers under his breath again, his hand caressing the cross as it burnt like it found itself into a sinner's hands.
“Forgive me,” he whispered weakly, his fingers tightening around the cross.
It burnt, but he didn’t stop holding it tightly, even when the edges bit. The words taste bitter, yet he reminisces of times where he’d pray the same thing but under the shelter of a home where there was still dirt under his fingernails after gripping the soil, where he knelt until his legs ached because that’s what good boys do.
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned”
He didn’t cry because crying was attention and attention led to consequences so he bowed his head, curling in on his shoulders. Become small, he thought instinctively.
He couldn’t wrap his hand around why Robby looked at him like that. Like he wasn’t a failure but just showing weakness like any other human. Like his feelings held weight in this life. Like he mattered.
Yet as he prayed and waited for the comfort to cleanse him of sin and reassure him with certainty that he was still God’s son, he felt himself go numb and he tried to blink away the tears because only the echo of Robby’s voice stayed in his head. And the echo of his voice only made Whitaker shake with a terrifying realisation– that he can’t pray it away anymore. That he can’t numb himself from feeling this ugly sensation.
Dennis groans into his hands as he releases his cross necklace, a sob stuck in his throat. Was God always this cruel?
𓏵
A few days passed since then and Whitaker tried his hardest to ignore Robby but how could he if almost all of his patient cases were with Robby?
Whitaker sighed tiredly as he leaned against the counters around the monitor, thankfully Dana wasn’t anywhere near. He wouldn’t be able to handle another person asking if he’s okay again. Instead God graced him with Trinity coming by, eyebrows raised before she smiled, amused would have been the right word.
“So,” she started and Whitaker deeply sighed. She always does this when she’s about to bring up a stupid point.
He doesn’t even look at her as he revises the cases on the monitor, “I’m working”
“Jeez, huckleberry, no wonder nurse kim can’t get your number” she snorts and nudges him teasingly before she blinks, looking at him. He would’ve usually smiled by now, albeit reluctantly and it prickled her skin in the absence of it. She looked up at what Whitaker was now looking at and there in all its glory was Dr. Robby, smiling softly at an old patient.
Her breath hitched before she regained composure and she nudged him again, “So…Dr. Robby huh?”
That must have gotten him since he looked rattled, eyes wide for once as he stared at her. It looked like he was pleading, kind of, more like tortured. Trinity stares back, the sarcasm still rolling out of her lips, “You never short circuit like that when I mention someone else.. Interesting” she teases
“It’s not like that” he immediately retorts and it burns as if he was overstepping his boundaries, as if caught by flames of his feelings again, and the fear crawls up his spine. He didn’t want someone to find out, let alone Trinity even if they were close.
“Don’t start” he whispered, a plea, guilt is a virtue.
“Huckleberry it was just a joke” she murmurs with a soft laugh, staring at his soft sad eyes, “you reacted like I accused you of heresy” and Whitaker stiffens, the fear amplifying as he shudders. He remembers his mother’s voice vividly. Guard your heart, the flesh is weak. A lamb must prosper, my sweet son.
Trinity looked away as she mentioned the last part before she looked back, her sarcasm tearing away at its seams and she falters at the sight of a stiff Whitaker. “Oh.”
Whitaker’s stomach drops and he fumbles, “It’s not real, the feeling. I, It’s just a phase” the words tumbled out, “and I know it’s wrong, Trinity. It’s just, I keep praying and it won't go away–” his voice was shaky now and his hands cling onto the counter, knuckles pale as his vision starts becoming hazy. He didn’t know if he was reassuring Trinity or himself.
She stares before sighing, tongue clicking, “Huckleberry” she sighed and Whitaker stops for a moment but his ear buzzes, his heart beating loudly in his own ears, “You like him this bad and your first instinct is to resort to theological self flagellation?" She scoffed but it felt soft, frustrated even.
He furrowed his eyebrows and he breathed in and out weakly, looking around in case anybody heard. Thankfully it was busy in all places, “you're not taking this seriously” he hissed back and Trinity shrugged.
“I am” she quips, “I just refuse to think of you as someone possessed by a demon” she huffed, looking at him as she squinted her eyes. She isn't some religious lunatic that would smite Whitaker if he admitted he was gay, she was lesbian herself for fuck's sake.
“That's not funny” Whitaker whispers but it's softer, more calm despite the shaky ends and his teary eyes.
“Not trying to be” Trinity hums before sighing, eventually leaning towards him, “What's more not funny is you being terrified for liking a man, which is the norm nowadays”
Whitaker’s breath hitches and he frowns slightly, “you don't get it, when I was still living at the farm they taught– “taught you that loving the same gender is a sin” Whitaker blinked as Trinity spoke, almost mockingly but still so gentle.
“I know, huckleberry, the church has a stellar record with queer people” she teased the obvious before looking up at the monitor again as Whitaker tried to calm down.
“God won't smite you if you find your attending's hands husband-material” she chuckled and Whitaker flinched, swearing he turned red just from that comment and he weakly glared at her, “don't say that!”
Trinity raised a brow and hummed, “You sure are an enigma, huckleberry.” Before she patted the counter, “well, saw an interesting case! Patient with half torn finger. Let’s unpack your so-called forbidden longing later, huckleberry!”
And Whitaker stared, nodding dumbly as he looked back up at the monitor. His hands were still shaky but he tried to stop it as he took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Trinity was never someone with a filter, in fact she'd blurt things out and hope for the best. Whitaker knew that, he just didn't expect to be the one on the receiving end so soon. A whiplash, if anything.
𓏵
Another patient entered the ER as the people shouted to clear the way. Critical, possibly bleeding to death and Whitaker was up to take the patient, the gloves on his hands steady as he checked up on the patient. “Mr. Eden?” he called as he checked the patient’s eyes, flashlight sharp as he checked the pupils, eyebrows furrowing.
It took half an hour to stabilise the patient before he was able to grab the chart and inform the patient regarding their health status. Trinity was by the other side of the patient’s bed, “Mr. Eden?” she called out and she had to stop herself from laughing from how ironic the name was with the doctor having to be huckleberry.
“Mr. Eden” Whitaker repeated softly before the patient blinked, staring at him specifically. “Hey handsome, do you treat others like this or am I just special?” he slurred and Whitaker felt warm all over, chuckling nervously like a teenage boy.
Trinity quirked up an eyebrow before she huffed, feeling maternal for some reason over this stupid mouse boy, “sir, you’re bleeding internally, flirting shouldn’t be your priority right now” – it’s condescending to an extent and Whitaker’s sure as hell if the patient was more sober, he’d be insulting trinity right back. “Trinity” he lightly scolds and Trinity shrugs
“What? I’m advocating for his health” Trinity mutters, staring pointedly at the patient, “who knows, maybe you flirting could’ve caused a heartattack”
Whitaker was too focused on making sure the patient became better so he didn’t take Trinity’s words at heart. With a soft huff he continued on informing the patient, ignoring the very obvious heart eyes he was receiving although a part of him still believes he was just delusional and the patient was just kind.
During all this, Whitaker didn’t even notice Robby enter, the door silent as it opened. Trinity looked shock for a second before, like a cat, she smiled mischievously and gestured for Robby to take her place if he wished to do so.
Robby sighed and shook his head, watching Whitaker work. The way he softly nudged the patient’s hands to comfort, the way he leaned forward to check the IV and–
“Looks like someone has fans” Trinity teases the patient and Whitaker as if Robby isn’t just a foot away watching, all according to her grand plan. The patient chuckles, hands twitching as if wanting to hold Whitaker, “Can you blame me? He’s quite gentle” and Whitaker thinks if he wasn’t red before, he’d definitely be red now.
He was about to retort before he notices the faint silhouette of someone and he stiffens. “Vitals?” the same gentle voice that would usually ask him if he’s okay was now clipped, cold, yet still it falters, “Dr. Robby, I didn't see you come in” Whitaker gasps before looking back down at the patient.
“I can tell” clipped, short, cold, enough to sting even Robby’s ears. It wasn’t normal for him to act so harsh, yet stupidly he didn’t stop, “are you giving my intern a hard time?” his voice rougher as he stared at the patient who’s still quite lovestruck.
“Just a good time, actually” the patient insists and Robby could hear Trinity cough as if trying to hold back a laugh. Meanwhile Whitaker wanted the marble floor to swallow him whole, “Sorry, I’ll redirect him to–”
“It’s fine, I’ll handle this, just finish your task, Whitaker” Robby sighs, looking at Whitaker’s expression. He was distraught, he should’ve known better than to act so harsh with the boy. Whitaker nods almost immediately, his neck turning red from how close Robby has gotten.
Eventually the three were able to leave when the patient’s vitals stabilised with Whitaker breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn’t everyday he gets to interact with such a confident, touchy patient. Neither is it everyday that Robby acts so harsh with him, he shivers just remembering how cold he sounded earlier.
Did he mess up?
Just as Whitaker was about to spiral, he felt the same rough hands gently squeezing both sides of his shoulders, “you alright, kid?” the voice closer to his ear and he flushes, nodding, “Yes, Dr. Robby”
Don’t want this, don't think this, don't misread his kindness.
The cross necklace felt heavy as he sweated just a bit. Having a crush and being guilty about it will always be the worst case scenario when he’s trying to focus on anything but. “You did good in there” Robby smiles gently and Whitaker’s heart beats louder, I like you, but he smiles nervously, nodding and thanking him before scurrying away.
The warmth that flared inside his chest turned into panic and it smothers him. Praise is dangerous, too dangerous. It makes you think you’re worth something, deserving of something more. This will pass, he thought as he clutched his cross necklace, entering the bathroom with a small huff, this is wrong.
Yet even so, he remembers the way Robby gave him space, how he would gently hold him, smile at him, reassure him and Whitaker stores them in thought, like a sin he can’t stop revisiting.
His chest tightens painfully. How could he ever tell Robby that he liked him? That it felt like God was testing him and he was failing, so hard? That his heart is so cruel it betrays him in the most warm yet humiliating ways? That liking him– a man– feels like being on the edge of a cliff, that it feels like a mistake he’d regret all his life?
He stares at the mirror as he leans onto the sink. It's just admiration, he repeats in his head like a mantra, not love, not desire, not anything warm.
𓏵
“So,” Trinity stares as Whitaker scurried away before speaking up to the attending beside her, “any newfound discovery you got?”
Robby stares at Whitaker’s back before staring at Trinity, confused, “What?”
She folds her arms and looks at the old man up and down, assessing for a minute or two, she doesn’t understand why Huckleberry would like someone so…emotionally constipated, it’s frustrating just thinking about it.
“For someone who technically outranks this whole floor,” she starts off with a huff, “you sure are emotionally dumb” her eyes squinting to observe his reaction. Nothing, not even anger, just a small frown in dismay.
Robby stares and considers her words. He didn’t mean to come off as that but he naturally has this habit of closing off his emotions in case something happens. God forbid a man wants to be a workaholic rather than fall in love at work. Wait, in love?
Robby blinks for a minute or two, startled at his own thoughts and Trinity stares, having a ‘gotcha’ moment. “Oh my god” she squealed within a whisper-shout and Robby frowns, eyebrows furrowed, feeling too vulnerable with santos, “Santos, get back to work.”
“Pulling rank again?” She groans but does so obediently as she runs to Mel to take care of another patient. Robby crosses his arms feeling a bit self conscious at the previous interaction. Was Santos always this smart or did he just slip with his expression?
Just thinking about it made his head ache. He’ll have to talk to Jack about this. But before he could even walk away, he saw Dana staring, amused. “What is it?” he huffed with a small smile, approaching her as she put on her glasses, feigning herself as an innocent worker.
“Nothing much,” she laughed with a smile, “what did santos tell you that got you feeling hot and bothered huh?”
Robby shudders at Dana’s tone, shaking his head, “Jesus, Dana, too much!” and Dana slaps his back as she laughs, “just joking! You looked like you were going to combust if Santos didn’t leave”
He felt bile in his throat at someone thinking he was hot and bothered by Santos. If anything, a close answer would be Whitaker– wait, what?
“There! That expression!” Dana gasped as she chuckled, pointing at his expression before he broke out of his stupor, cheeks warming. Did he just…nevermind, he just needs a breath of fresh air, surely. Dana sighs and pats his back with a clipboard, “You’ve got it bad, Robby”
“Not for santos” he sighed, confessing while he rubbed his hands over his eyes. Another cup of coffee would surely help his predicament but the way Dana eyed him clearly meant she’s coming with him. So they walked to the breakroom, with Dana squinting before having her own ‘gotcha’ moment. Other than Santos, it was Whitaker with Robby earlier.
“If not santos, it’s got to be the bloodhound” she teased and Robby raised an eyebrow, chuckling, “bloodhound, huh?”
He sips his coffee as Dana nods proudly, “our rat chaser obviously, Whitaker” and Robby almost spits out the coffee if he hadn’t inhaled in order to stay calm. Dana raised an eyebrow and felt the urge to tease him, “so, what’s with you and mouse boy lately?”
“What do you mean?” he coughed as he washed the mug, a bit too harshly as water sprayed outside the sink. “Well, you’re close to him, and,” she slows down, her hand on Robby's shoulder as she squeezes him, “you’re really touchy”
Touchy? Robby blinked before looking back down at Dana, his head turning gears, “I’m not touchy” but his voice was pitched higher like a teenage boy caught slobbering over his crush, “I just reassure him since he looks so scared most of the time.”
Dana doesn’t seem to be convinced but Robby’s too tired to even explain to her.
“Yeah, I don’t see you doing that to Javadi or Samira, and there's shit load of fear in them” Robby groans, rubbing his hands on his face again. Sure, fine, he was touchy and he did find Whitaker adorable whenever he’d melt under his touch or the fact that he’d squeak and turn red like a tomato but that’s it. Nothing more.
“What are you trying to imply Dana?” he finally asks and Dana snorts, “just trying to remind you, falling in love with an intern is an HR violation” and he frowns. It tasted sour when he retorted, “not in love, just concerned.”
Dana stares for a moment or two before she chuckles, shaking her head as she headed out the breakroom, “Don’t worry, Robby, I’m not discouraging you, just telling you ways on how to fall in love a bit more discreetly” then the door shuts and Robby leans against the wall with a gruff sigh. Fuck, he wasn’t falling in love, was he?
𓏵
Trinity found Whitaker beside the monitor and she slid, a mischievous grin on her face, her eyes bright with determination, “huckleberry, guess what?” Her voice was a tad bit too happy that Whitaker became nervous.
“What is it?” He sighed softly and he felt her hands squeeze her shoulder. At least it wasn't Robby, that's good for something.
“I interrogated a certain someone and it was so frustrating but,” Whitaker stiffened, “your feelings just might be mutual” she whistled and his eyes widened, cheeks flaming yet again. She coos mockingly, “awh look at you, baby's first crush!”
“Stop it!” He hisses, whining in a way that makes Trinity raise an eyebrow, amused endlessly.
He groans and pushes his hands on his face, hiding himself on the counter. Trinity leans closer and she whispers, “How does it feel, amish boy?” And Whitaker whines, clutching at his red ears.
Trinity laughs, holding her stomach before wiping away the tears, trying not to laugh too hard in case Dana checks up on them. “Jesus, Huckleberry, you're so scandalous!”
Whitaker frowns, cheeks red as he tries to calm down. Trinity's antics were embarrassing, but better than the others teasing him.
“Make sure not to daydream about your boss” she teases one last time before she notices Dr. Garcia walking through and her eyes brighten, “gotta catch you later, huckleberry, got better fish to catch”
Whitaker pouts slightly since Trinity always leaves him hanging but he shudders, it's better than seeing Trinity horny.
Now all he could think about was Trinity interrogating Robby and Robby turning red, flustered, at being exposed with his feelings before he groaned. What is he imagining? Robby would never fall in love with a man, let alone him. If anything, Dr. Abbot would be a better lover for Dr. Robby.
“Whitaker?” Dennis flinches and perks up while rubbing at his neck. Robby didn't touch him this time, both his hands in the jacket's pockets. He didn't know why he was disappointed. This was a good thing, this meant that Robby would stop and Whitaker could move on.
Don't misstep, stay in lane, God is watching.
“uh, Yes, Dr. Robby?” He curses internally, voice cracking, and Robby chuckles softly, as if amused. Not so surprising anymore.
“Just hoping you're not playing that game again” Robby says as he looks up at the monitor, most stabilised patients don't need checkups and others are too heavy to handle, “trying to pick out patients, I mean” he clarified.
Whitaker nods, “not really, just zoned out” his voice soft as he mumbled and Robby has to hold in the urge to just stir him around to a patient he's going to check up on. His hands clench in his pockets before he smiles, crow feet creasing around his eyes, “alright then, come, how about you go assist McKay at the triage for now”
Whitaker pouts slightly but nods, leaving Robby flustered. Did…he just pout? He sighed, hand rubbing his face to keep himself sober. Jesus Christ, the things Whitaker does is too much for his old heart.