Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s not very often that Dennis does a night shift.

Not from lack of want, although granted the day shift is a lot more coveted particularly in an emergency department. The night shift has it’s own core team of veterans, a perfectly cohesive group of medical professionals that work like a well-oiled rig. There is however the odd newbie, someone transitioning into becoming permanent or completing a mandatory rotation, and as always the fill-ins covering those off sick or on leave or sometimes just running the odd shift to make their roster work that pay bracket.

Which is where Dennis comes in on a Friday night, the Fourth of July as it stands. One of the other junior residents called in sick earlier that day, and while Dennis had been looking forward to having the next couple of days off before starting fresh on Sunday morning, Doctor Shen had offered him through to Tuesday off if he pulled a late notice shift change.

And, well, it actually suits him a lot more that way.

Chairs is decently full as he walks through the double doors just before 1900hrs. All seating is occupied however there’s only a handful of people standing, most look relatively fresh and tidy. It’s a good sign, hopefully the night will continue to be steady if not less, and Dennis smiles at a tired looking older lady sitting in a wheelchair as he swipes himself into the department.

The start of handover is in full effect. Dennis slips in amongst the crowd in the Hub. Dana is already with the night charge nurse, Lena, both gesturing at the board above them and the tablets in their hands with equally irritated looks, while the other nurses handover some of the finer details of their individual patients. Doctor Shen and Doctor Abbot are in deep and animated conversation just on the other side of the Hub, Doctors Ellis and Yeo whisper conspiratorially as they watch them nearby, and Samira waves at him with a brilliant smile from her chair at the edge of the Hub once he gets closer.

“Dennis,” she greets cheerfully. “I wondered who Shen managed to get in to cover for Leonard. Pretty late notice?”

He shrugs, his backpack slipping down slightly with the motion. “Got a good deal out of it.” He inclines his head towards the back corridor. “I’ll be back in a minute?”

Samira nods, swinging around in her chair, much too relaxed. “Take your time. I think Shen and Jack are still arguing over which patient’s can be discharged before night shift officially takes over.” She wrinkles her nose as she gives the two attendings a look. “And no one can find Robby to make them decide any faster.”

Dennis smiles as he slips past her, even as he glances around himself to see if he can spot Robby out amongst the department. He’s not to be seen though, and Dennis quietly heads to the back corridor to unceremoniously shove his backpack into his locker. A couple of the nurses are out here too, and Jesse looks tired already as he downs the last of his coffee in his keep cup while staring into the depths of his locker.

“Give it time, doctor,” he muses when he sees Dennis. He claps him on the shoulder, nearly making Dennis stagger. “Mateo reckons there’ll be some inevitable crash out tonight.” He slams his locker shut, . “Fourth of July? Anything can happen.”

Dennis doesn’t have much to say to that as Jesse breezes past him, muttering under his breath some unfortunate language. He’s heard horror stories about being in the emergency department on the Fourth of July. Accidental amputations, third-degree burns, blunt force traumas… he’s sure it will all be fine, but the lingering doubt is enough to give him a healthy degree of apprehension for the shift.

No use standing around thinking about it in front of a locker, dreading it more like, and Dennis pulls out his stethoscope to hang around his neck before stuffing his pockets will all manner of gadgets and slamming his locker door shut.

However, he’s barely made his way around the corner back to the Hub when a hand suddenly grasps his wrist, strong and unforgiving, and Dennis chokes back a yelp as he’s very abruptly hauled straight into Trauma Two.

“What the fu-” he starts to swear, only to be cut off as he’s shoved firmly up again the wall, tucked just slightly around the corner away from the windows, and it’s just because he intimately recognises the large body pressing up against his that he doesn’t yell for help.

“Hello sweetheart,” Robby murmurs, his smile completely disarming as he brackets Dennis in against the wall, and Dennis opens his mouth to reply only for Robby to take the opportunity to catch his lips in a heated kiss.

Oh, and how good it is. Dennis’s eyes slip shut as Robby tilts his chin back with a gentle touch, coaxing him with a well-practiced ease. Even now, hundreds of kisses down the line, each one still feels like their first, sweet yet exciting, passionate yet soft. They fit together perfectly, Dennis’s fingers thread into Robby’s hair with tantalising tugs and Robby’s hands tenderly cradle his jaw. They kiss until they can’t breath, until the scream for oxygen is too much, but when they finally pull back its only just enough to press their foreheads together as they share the heated air between them.

“Hi,” Dennis breathes, voice rougher than expected, and when he clears his throat it’s to Robby’s delighted laugh, his smile warm and inviting as his eyes crinkle at the corners. It makes Dennis’s tummy swoop, the giddy feeling settles pleasantly under his skin, the sight of those irresistible crows eyes leaving him light-headed.

“I’ve been waiting,” he scolds Dennis gently, practically pouting even as Dennis gives him a half-hearted glare in response. “I think Jack is getting suspicious. There’s only so many excuses I can come up with for missing handover.”

Dennis huffs as he leans back a little further, Robby getting the hint as he pulls away slightly too. “It’s one shift, Robby.” His hands fall to Robby’s chest, pressing flat against the lines of his hoodie. “We should be saving all of this for our days off.” He tugs on Robbie’s zipper pointedly. “We’ll get caught if we’re not careful.”

Robby lets out something awfully close to a whine as he presses his face against Dennis’s neck, nudging his nose in under his jaw while his hands drop to squeeze Dennis’s hips. “Is it bad that I don’t care right now?”

Dennis shakes his head, his chin digs into Robby’s temple. “Yes.” Robby groans. “I’m fairly certain it was you that said it could cost us both our careers.”

“I lied.”

Dennis laughs. “No you didn’t.”

Robby sighs, sagging against him. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He presses a kiss to the side of Dennis neck, his beard scratching against the delicate skin teasingly. “And I did a cricothyotomy on a four-hundred pound patient today.”

Dennis slips his arms down around Robby’s waist, pulling the older man closer against him. “It’s not easy,” he agrees, pressing his fingers into the dip of Robby’s lower back, lips twitching at the small pleased sigh it draws from him.

And it’s not, it really isn’t. Of all the things Dennis expected to come out of officially applying for a residency at The Pitt following the conclusion of his fourth year as a medical student, a relationship with his attending hadn’t even been on the cards. Of course he had a crush on him. Cassie had told him early on that they’ve all been there when it came to Doctor Michael Robinavitch. Something about his cool-calmness, his easy smile, the sheer authority he commands… it seems to tick the box of every young aspiring that-way-inclined student and resident that passes through the emergency department.

Because Robby is the perfect attending… except Dennis was lucky to have seen a different side of him so early on, a softer and more heartbreaking side, and while that in no way changed his attitude or respect for the man, it certainly changed their relationship.

Not that Dennis had noticed, not until it was pointed out to him by a grisly Santos the eve of final shift before abandoning them for her surgical residency, glaring at him over a half-drunken mocktail with too much fruit syrup while a wide-eyed Mel had looked on. After all, Robby is the very epitome of professional. He didn’t realise that the lingering touches, the stolen laughs, the sweet smiles were… well, special. He thought that its just who Robby is, which isn’t wrong by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t aware that most of those were meant just for him.

And he didn’t believe them either, right up until nearly the end of the first year of his residency when he’d overheard Dana scolding Robby one evening at the end of shift. He hadn’t meant to, he’d just been taking a quiet moment in the viewing room after ending on a particularly hellish case when he’d stepped out to see the two in hushed conversation at the bottom of the stairs. He’s honestly surprised they hadn’t heard him, but then again Dana had been giving Robby a frankly legendary dressing down.

As it turned out, over him.

“You know,” she’d said tersely, “it’s cute having a crush on an intern and all. But it is wildly inappropriate.”

“It’s not a crush,” Robby had protested, and Dennis had been surprised at how genuinely upset he’d sounded. “I promise-”

“Look, buster,” Dana’s words had been harsh, snappy and clipped. “Deny it all you like, but at the end of the day think about the position you’re putting him in.”

Dennis hadn’t caught the rest of the conversation as they’d moved back into the department, and while he doesn’t envy Robby at all for being on the end of Dana’s righteous forked tongue, it had given him the gumption he’d needed to approach his attending at the end of their work drinks in the park that night with a very inappropriate proposition.

That Robby had promptly turned down, but before Dennis could slink off to lick his wounds in pure mortification, Robby had explained with bright red cheeks and a charming nervous smile as he’d gently held one of Dennis’s hands between both of his that he very much was interested in something a little more… long term.

Which has led to now, hiding in Trauma Two necking like bloody teenagers while hoping like hell none of their coworkers, or worse anyone from HR, find them.

“I wish you were coming with us tonight,” Robby murmurs quietly, dragging Dennis back to the present, and he smiles as Robby’s hands slip up under his scrub shirt. “Wish I could kiss you under the fireworks.”

He forgets sometimes how much of a closet romantic Robby is. “And what, give Dana the pleasure of being right about us?” he asks sarcastically, trying not to let himself melt, and Robby harrumphs in return. “I’m sure she’ll love that. Might even send in those HR papers she’s pretended not to have on her desk for two years.”

“Three.” Robby pulls back with a boyish grin. “It’s been since day dot, Den.”

Dennis shakes his head fondly, even more so when Robby darts in for a brief chaste kiss. “You’re ridiculous.” He sighs, wanting nothing more than to chase Robby’s lips with his own, even as he lets him pull away. “Seriously, Robby. It’s better this way.”

Robby’s grin fades. His warm brown eyes look so soulful all of a sudden, and he reaches up to run his fingers through Dennis’s hair. “I hate keeping you a secret. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know.” Dennis catches his hand, entwines their fingers. “One more year. That’s all we need.” He gives him a sweet smile, presses a kiss to the back of Robby’s knuckles. “And besides, it’s not like we don’t spend every other moment outside of work together.”

“Except tonight.”

Dennis rolls his eyes with an indignant huff. “I’m sure you can manage a single night.”

Robby hums before a wicked look crosses his face. “Might need something to keep me going then.”

Robby suddenly manhandles him back up against the wall, pinning Dennis’s hand above him just as he reaches down to cup Dennis’s thigh, dragging it up to rest on Robby’s hip as he nudges himself in between Dennis’s legs. Dennis is barely able to steady himself against Robby’s chest with his free hand, and he grins as Robby crowds in closer until their lips crash together again.

And, fuck, it’s messy. All tongue and teeth. Robby coaxes moans out of Dennis as he rocks their hips together, making frankly obscene noises with each one. It’s too much, Dennis feels light-headed and heady, and he fists his hand in Robby’s hoodie as he nips Robby’s lower lip, drawing a groan from the older man that shoots straight down his spine.

“Robby…” Dennis whimpers, and Robby’s hand tightens on his thigh as he presses kisses to the hollow of Dennis’s throat. He tilts his head back to give him easier access, eyes slipping shut as he clenches his thigh around Robby’s hip…

“Doctor Robby, get your ass to the Hub right now!”

Dana’s furious voice cracking out over the tannoy in a spectacular display of flagrant misuse has them springing apart, both wide eyed and red cheeked as they desperately glance around hoping not to have been seen. Dennis’s heart thunders in throat, he can feel the blood pulsing in his head… but there’s no one else in the room with them and the curtains are still cleverly shielding them from view.

“Fuck,” Robby breathes out, looking just as wrecked as Dennis feels. “Fucking Dana.”

Dennis giggles, honest to God giggles, and Robby’s helpless grin matches the warmth in his eyes as he laughs too. They straighten up, brush themselves down and run their hands through each others hair. It’s not the first time this has happened, Dennis isn’t stupid enough to pretend it will be the last, and once they both look more acceptable, Dennis slips out of Trauma Two first.

He makes it over to the Hub without being noticed too much. Only Sophie sees him, but if there is ever a nurse that genuinely could not care less about idle workplace gossip, it’s the middle-aged grandmother of six who’s perfected the phrase “not my monkeys, not my circus” down to an art form. She barely even smiles at him, just returns to her paperwork before heading off to South with a downturned glare.

Robby, however, doesn’t get off so easily.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Jack demands as Robby slinks out of Trauma Two, only to freeze as Jack and Dana all but pounce on him. They crowd him back against the wall, Robby holding up his hands in surrender, glancing between the two of them completely bewildered.

“Ah, trauma?” he offers, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, looking for all the world genuinely confused. Dennis hides a smile behind his hand, especially when he sees most of the staff’s attention has shifted to watch the three veterans.

Dana doesn’t hesitate though. “And pray tell just what was more important in trauma than handover?”

Robby shrugs helplessly. “Forgot my stethoscope.” He even picks it up to wiggle at her, earning a fierce scowl that makes even Dennis’s insides curdle. “They’re expensive to replace, you know.”

“And you, what?” Jack snaps, blatantly disregarding Robby’s bullshit. “Went to Narnia to find it?”

Robby grins charmingly at them while he claps Jack on the shoulder, eyes twinkling as he gives Dana a conspiracy whisper. “Looks like someone needs a drink.”

Dana reaches out to flick him in the ear, making him yelp as he leans away from her with a hurt look. “We’ve been waiting on you, idiot.” She turns to gesture at the Hub, all staff seamlessly shifting their attention elsewhere. “Handover’s finished, you’re the one holding us up.”

Robby slings an arm around her shoulders and drags her into his side, Dana still going willingly despite her mulish attitude. “Fireworks aren’t till eleven, Dana. We’ve got plenty of time.” He nudges her and Jack forward as they pass the Hub, Robby pausing to level a shameless smile at Doctor Shen. “See ya, Shen.” He salutes him mockingly. “Hold down the fort, would you?”

Shen rolls his eyes and flips a rude gesture that just gets a laugh out of Robby. Dennis watches them go unabashedly, glad to see he isn’t the only one, but just as the three of them are about to turn the corner leading to Chairs… Robby’s eyes flit to his.

A small wink later, they’re gone.

“Whitaker! Mohan!”

Dennis leaps, heart pounding as he turns around to see Lena striding towards him, face set like thunder as she thrusts a tablet his way. He barely catches it, fumbles for a moment before setting himself right. “Lena,” he greets warily, but Lena doesn’t seem to care much for pleasantries right now.

“We’re trying to clear as many of low acuities out as we can,” she tells him gruffly, turning to toss Samira another tablet from where she’s sitting nearby. “Pilonidal abscess to drain in South Eighteen, or possible ringworm in North Two.” She grins at them, and not nicely. “You pick.”

She flounces off before they can get a word in edgewise, and Dennis turns to Samira with wide eyes, both of them clutching their tablets with horror.

There’s a pause.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

The shift goes better than Dennis expected.

It’s still endless. Sick people pile in the waiting room like there’s nothing else to do on a Friday night except be at the local ER. Luckily the acuity remains reasonably low, only one cardiac event has happened and Dennis had been far over in West Thirteen treating the burns of some idiot who let a sparkler burn down too low to his hands.

“Coughs, colds, and sore holes,” Lena had bemoaned as another person had come through with what was most likely an advanced thrush infection, waddling towards her room behind an exasperated looking Donnie. “What a treat.”

Dennis personally doesn’t mind. His last night shift earlier in the year had been non-stop trauma calls, endless CPR, and too much blood. Frankly, the change in pace is a lot more welcome… even if it does mean having to treat things in places he isn’t fussed on seeing. They should really have a sign at the front of the hospital saying ‘Leave your dignity at the door and pick it back up on your way out’.

At nine, Doctor Collins finally arrives, only two hours late. Dennis doesn’t question it, he’s not really in the position to be looking into department gossip, but Shen looks pleased to see their second attending especially when she dumps a whole load of breadsticks and dipping sauces in the break room. Dennis cheerfully chews on one as he sits at a computer station, tapping away at his patient’s latest notes while Samira tends to the psych patient in Behavioural One in front of him. He doesn’t even look up at the screaming. Samira is more than competent and the breadstick is so fresh, especially with the slathering of butter he’s managed to spread over it. Shen is much more relaxed than Robby with eating at their workstations, as evident when he drops into the seat beside Dennis, also nibbling on a breadstick as he watches Samira with amusement.

Dennis at least still has the decency to clean up his crumbs.

“So far so good,” Donnie muses to him as they sip lukewarm coffee while looking up at the board, figuring out who to bring in from Chairs to fill the few newly vacant rooms. “Mateo might’ve been full of shit after all.”

“Always time!” Jesse singsongs as he spins past with a young girl in a wheelchair, her giggles enough to make them all smile. Donnie flips him off with a scowl that Jesse grins at, shifting to make sure his patient doesn’t see the incredibly unprofessional behaviour, and Dennis shakes his head before scouring the board above them.

Broken fibula in Central Eleven. X-rayed, cast, and discharged. Suspected cholecystitis in West Fourteen. Waiting on surgery to admit them for gall bladder removal. Bowel obstruction in North Three. Enema given and transferred to medical ward. Distressed infant in South Twenty-Two. Undiagnosed, strongly believed to be a bout of severe colic, paediatrics notified. Treated testicular torsion in South Fifteen. Due for urologist review. Anaphylaxis in Trauma One. Intubated, adrenaline and propofol infusions, waiting to be transferred to ICU.

Dennis sighs as he draws up the patient in North Five on his tablet. Teenage boy, presented with severe rash and swollen lymph nodes. All the usual boxes have been ticked with preliminary observations. Slightly elevated blood pressure, consistent saturations, increasing heart rate. Headache, nausea, fatigue… an unusual high grade temperature of 104°F. Must be an infection of some sort, and he nods at Lena as he passes her on his way to the cubicle.

The kid barely looks his age of seventeen, blinking up at him owlishly from his bed when Dennis nudges open the curtain to slip inside. It must be his parents sitting beside him, a rather exhausted looking woman slumped in one chair and a smiling man perched on the other. They both seem eager at his arrival, sitting up expectantly, but the kid looks like judgement day has finally arrived.

“Hi,” Dennis starts, addressing the parents first before turning his entire attention to the kid, smiling at him gently. “I’m Doctor Whitaker. What brings you to the ER today?”

The kid glances at his parents, clearly nervous as he chews on his bottom lip, a nervous habit Dennis shares. “Not feeling too good,” he mumbles, and his mother rolls her eyes with a loud scoff.

“For heavens sake, Harry,” she scolds him, and the kid flushes bright red. “He’s a doctor. You need to be much more specific than that.”

The expression that crosses the kid’s face is… familiar. Guilty, yet poorly trying to hide it. He knows that expression well, wore it for the first twenty years of his life. He doesn’t mean to stereotype the kid, but there’s something about him that, well, Dennis looked very similar himself when he was that age.

Dennis looks at him for a long moment before he clears his throat. “If you turn right outside, there’s a kitchenette just at the end of the corridor.” He smiles pleasantly at the parents. “You both look tired. Harry and I can chat while you go get a cup of coffee to wake up a bit.”

It’s a blatant dismissal, coated in sincerity, something Langdon had taught him. Both parents look completely unsure but Dennis just stares at them with that fixed smile until they both stand, the mother leaning over to kiss her son’s forehead with a murmured word before her husband ushers her from the room.

Dennis waits until he’s sure they’re actually gone before turning back to Harry. “So,” he says calmly, stepping up beside the bed. “Shall we start again?”

As it turns out, the rash goes a lot further than just his chest as recorded by triage. Harry hesitantly allows Dennis to examine him, wrinkling his nose with discomfort as Dennis runs a gloved hand over his reddish stomach, noticing the slight discolouration on his palms and, on a hunch, the soles of his feet.

“Is it itchy?” he asks as he reaches up to feel Harry’s neck, unsurprised at the swelling in his nodes, followed by palpating his armpits to similar results. With a high fever like that, along with the nausea and fatigue? Harry definitely has an infection, and he’s got an ugly feeling on just what it might be.

“No,” Harry mumbles, and Dennis purses his lips. “Should it be?”

“Not all rashes are.” Dennis stands back to look Harry in the eyes. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

There’s a long pause as they stare at one another, Dennis just waiting him out as the kid clearly wrestles with whatever he needs to say. Dennis is all but sure of what is missing here, but pushing Harry isn’t going to be helpful. He already looks miserable and flighty.

But then he hangs his head. “I have… like, warts?” Harry mumbles, his cheeks a flaming red. “Down… there.”

Dennis bites the inside of his cheek. “May I see?”

Harry looks ready to vomit, and Dennis is just about to offer a chaperon to be present when he gives a shaky nod. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Dennis’s heart goes out to him as he awkwardly shuffles about on the bed.

A closer examination of Harry’s genitals is all that Dennis needs, and he very quickly helps the kid to cover himself back up before stepping away to remove his gloves. He keeps his back turned for a moment, letting Harry gather himself, before he sanitises his hands and moves back over to his discarded tablet at the end of the bed.

“Harry,” he starts slowly, waiting for Harry to look at him with those big terrified eyes. “You’ve got a sexually transmitted disease called syphillis.” The horror on the kid’s face makes Dennis wince. “I’m assuming you know what that is?”

“Like what llamas have?”

It takes Dennis off-guard and he bursts out laughing despite everything. “Uh, yeah,” he agrees. “The one and the same.” He raises an eyebrow. “Although I’m assuming…”

If Harry was red before, it’s nothing compared to now. “No!” He looks appalled, throwing his hands up as he furiously shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t.. no, definitely not. He is very much human.”

Dennis smiles. “Good. That would be too much paperwork.” The kid still looks shell-shocked, and Dennis reaches out to push at his shoulder gently. “It’s a joke, Harry. It’s okay.” He starts to swipe and type on his tablet. “We’ll need to take some bloods and start you on antibiotics. It is standard procedure to contact any sexual partners you’ve had recently to ensure they also get tested. Syphillis is a highly transmittable disease so you will need to inform them.”

“Oh…” Harry looks dazed. “I, um. Okay.”

Dennis quirks his head to the side. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Um.” Harry seems uncertain. “I don’t… there’s only been one, so.” He glances at the closed curtain. “They… they can’t hear us right?”

Dennis glances back to the curtain as well, not able to see any shapes or shadows on the other side or feet underneath. “I’m not sure,” he says, taking a slight step away. “Did you want them to-”

He isn’t expecting the sudden hand on his arm, yanking him back sharply as Harry all but climbs off the bed, utterly petrified as he nearly knocks Dennis to the ground.

“No!” he hisses, and Dennis struggles to stay standing as Harry practically crawls up his arm, tipping him over until he has to grab the rail at the end of the bed to stay upright. “They don’t know. Not about him. About any of this. Please.”

Dennis opens his mouth, eyes wide. Closes it again. He knew something was familiar in this kid, something that reminded him of himself. But this is… this is a lot.

"They can't know," the kid begs, wide eyes filled with terror. Dennis stares, a lump catches in his throat, suddenly it’s not Harry there.

It’s Petey. "They can't know," he’d said, panicked and terrified. The boy Dennis had caught his older brother kissing was long gone, ran the moment Dennis had seen them. Petey's hand had been painfully tight, it’d left a bruise, he’d begged and begged until Dennis agreed.

He's getting married next year, to a woman named Mary. Dennis hasn't been invited. "We can't have your lifestyle here," Petey had said down the tinny line of their cellphones. Dennis wasn’t able to respond before the call had disconnected.

"Doctor?"

"Right." Dennis clears his throat, blinks and blinks as he focuses back on his patient. The kid is still scared, and Dennis pats his arm reassuringly before prying his hand off him. "Of course not, your safety is my primary concern. They won’t know unless you tell them.” He takes a step back, putting space between them as Harry visibly deflates, with relief or exhaustion he doesn’t know. "A nurse will be by soon to draw those bloods."

He escapes before the kid can reply, all but fleeing the cubicle. He doesn't stop until he's on the other side of the department, tucking himself into an empty room as he heaves in deep steadying breaths. The memory still lingers in the corners of his eyes, Petey's pale face, the imprint of his fingers pressing against where Harry’s own just were. He drags a hand down his face and squeezes his cheeks until they hurt, bites down on his lower lip harshly, letting the pain slowly ground him.

He pulls out his phone to check the time, hands shaking as he tries to hold it steady. Thankfully he's distracted when he sees a text from Robby has come in, and he laughs softly when he opens it to see it's a selfie. A terrible one at that, Robby’s clearly holding out his phone with both hands and it's on a weird angle, but he's grinning so hard those terribly handsome crows feet are crinkling his eyes. Dennis smiles, spots Dana sitting down amongst the crushing crowd of people right on the riverbank’s edge. He wonders if she's seen the selfie, or if she’s asked who Robby is sending it too. A part of him wishes Robby would tell her.

It's fine, he thinks as he fires off a reply of various heart emojis. He can see Robby already rolling his eyes, he might even throw a rant Dana and Jack’s way about how primitive texting has become, and it makes his chest warm with sheer fondness before he shoves his phone back in his pocket, takes a deep breath, and steps back out into the department.

The lull has been interrupted by a new trauma bursting through the bay doors. Dennis watches the paramedics smash straight into Trauma Two, Shen and Collins chasing down the gurney together with a collection of nurses hot on their heels. He’s decidedly not needed there, not as the doors close and the curtains are drawn shut, and he instead heads back towards the Hub with the intention on finding a spare nurse for North Five.

“Alright, Doctor?” Sophie asks him when he gets there, eyebrow raised genuinely. She’s always been kind to him, no matter her brusqueness at times, and there’s a slight hint of concern in the corners of her eyes as she looks at him from overtop of those prim glasses.

Dennis smiles thinly before handing over the tablet, Sophie accepting it as she steps away from her computer. “Patient in North Five needs bloods, please.”

Sophie hums as she taps at the tablet. “Anything in specific, or a full work up?”

“Full work up.” He hesitates. “Primarily a serology panel though.”

“Oh dear.” She must see his notes as she sighs, shaking her head sternly. “Kids these days.” Another look overtop of her glasses, this one a little all-too-knowing. “Heaven forbids what they are up too when they’re out of sight.”

She beetles off before he can reply. Dennis watches her go, somehow feeling chastened himself, entirely unsure if he’s being a little too paranoid. He fidgets with the hem of his scrubs for a moment before shaking off the feeling, turning instead back to the board. It’s thinned out some more, a few rooms empty and being turned over, and the patient’s out in chairs are all triage fours or fives.

He’s still deciding between the eighty year-old who’s had a fall, query broken humerus, and the kidney stone that’s been wailing on and off for the last half hour when he feels someone sidle up beside him. He glances over to see it’s Shen, looking as casual as ever as he sips iced coffee obnoxiously from his reusable cup, no doubt made from the unapproved machine he keeps secretly stashed in his locker, the straw dragging up more bubbles than actual liquid.

“I’m thinking we’re gonna coast through the shift, kid,” Shen decides in that irritating way of his. He’s barely older than Dennis after all. “Probably didn’t even need you to cover Lenny.”

“Gee,” Dennis mutters. “Happy to help.”

Shen shoots him a charming smile before sucking on that damn straw again. “Had somewhere else to be?”

Dennis thinks of Robby, no doubt watching the fireworks with Dana and Jack on the riverbank. He’ll put his arms around their shoulders and they’ll begrudgingly let him pull them in. There’s no arguing with Robby when he feels like being affectionate, when his eyes soften and he presses in close. Dennis always feels safe in his arms, warm and wanted.

He can imagine how it would have been had it been him there instead. Robby would’ve looped his arms around Dennis’s hips, pulled him back into his chest and rested his chin against Dennis’s temple as they’d both looked up at the darkened sky. He’d murmur sweet nothings, his romantic side blooming along with the bursting array of fireworks, press kisses to Dennis’s hair as his thumbs would grace over the sensitive skin of Dennis’s sides.

But Dennis isn’t there. He’s here, and he gives Shen a tight-lipped smile back. “No. Not at all.”

Shen narrows his eyes for a moment, Dennis wonders if perhaps he hesitated a moment too long, but it doesn’t matter as all of a sudden Lena is beside them, short of breath and hair frizzed, looking wild around the eyes as she slaps her hand over the receiver of the department phone in her hand.

“Code Yellow,” she declares, “there’s been an accident at the Riverfront.”

The whole world screeches to a stop.

Dennis breath hitches, his blood runs cold. All he hears is a low ringing as the world narrows and narrows to the phone in Lena’s hand. Code Yellow. Code Yellow. Code Yellow.

Disaster Event.

At the riverfront.

Robby.

“Whitaker!” Lena suddenly bellows, loud enough to break through the hollow ringing, and Dennis blinks as the world slams violently back into place, the ground tips under him, and he sucks in a desperate breath to steady himself as Lena glowers at him.

“Sorry,” Dennis murmurs faintly before, focusing on Shen’s voice on the tannoy overhead, his orders echoing out around the department. Clear out the rooms, send patient’s to alternative care if needed, discharge or redistribute. Call in staff from around the hospital, send out an all-points bulletin for those that can to come it. Not a current mass casualty event but the situation is still developing.

Samira appears at his elbow. “Holy shit,” she says as she nearly bowls him over, grabbing his elbow with a tight grip. “What the fuck happened?”

“Misfire Event,” Lena snaps as types furiously on the charge nurse cellphone, the department phone still jammed between her cheek and shoulder. “Fireworks detonated into the crowd. Multiple wounded incoming.”

Dennis swears. An event like that could bring anything through those doors. It might not be as severe as a Code Triage… but even so it’s disastrous enough. Shen is still shouting out over the tannoy, he sees Jesse go flying past with Donnie hot on his heels, Sophie wheels his teenage patient out of North Five with a screech of rubber wheels, and Yeo is distributing the arriving staff down from the ward’s to the patient’s needing transfers.

“Dennis, come on,” Samira hisses as she tugs his arm to pull him back out onto the floor. He shakes himself as he follows suit, ignoring the panic crawling its way up his spine as he nabs a spare tablet and books it over to South.

It takes time to clear the department, a steady stream of staff helps to push along the patient load but it still feels like a slog. Dennis signs prescriptions, discharge summaries, transfer orders. His mouth runs dry after the fourth handover, made worse by the pedantic battle-axe who’s come down from the Surgical ward for their suspected cholecystitis. Sophie appears in a blazing glory of equal attitude, and Dennis is quick to slip from the room as the two veteran’s voices start to rise.

He has a moment, just a moment to reach into his pocket for his phone. There’s no messages, no notifications, and it sits like lead in the pit of his stomach as he shakily types out a desperate message to Robby.

Tell me you’re okay.

He hits send, lump in his throat, turns the ringer on as loud as it can go, before shoving his phone back in his pocket and stepping back out into the mayhem. It’s carefully controlled, borderline organised, but it’s still bedlam. Blue scrubs everywhere, Shen commands it all from where he stands at the Hub, an orange-fluro vest on he’s gotten from somewhere, the tannoy phone clutched in hand as he gestures at the growing crowd in front of him with it.

“Reported numbers are high enough for emergency triage,” he’s calling out as Dennis rushes to join them. “Collins is going to be out front receiving them.”

“Are we using the colour system?” someone calls out, Dennis doesn’t see who.

“A bastardised version,” Shen replies, dropping the tannoy phone to hold up three strips in his hand. “Red for emergent care, patient’s that need immediate attention or are at risk of losing life or limb.” He flicks the red one down, holding up the other two. “Pink for the golden hour and anyone who is in real need of attention.” Shen shakes his head before raising the yellow. “If they’re well enough for a yellow, they’re well enough for Chairs, or West for basic monitoring. We will see them when we can.”

It’s brutal yet fair. Collins nods from beside Shen, already gowned up with glasses and gloves. “We have less staff on night shift throughout the hospital, our resources are limited. We expect there will be significant burn injuries coming through.” She gestures around the department. “Cooling them will be the utmost priority. What showers we have will be used, but the wards are prepared to manage those that we cannot. The Burns unit is expecting the worst we having and are sending as much treatment packs as they can to us.” She drops her hands back down to point at the ground. “We are about holding down the fort until backup eventually arrives.”

“There has been a mass callout to all hospital staff,” Lena pipes up, heads swivel to where she stands at the back of the group still with a phone to her ear. “We already have some coming in, but it will take time. Ambulances are spreading out the wounded to as many hospitals as they can but we are one of two within the immediate catchment area.”

“Whitaker,” Shen shouts out, searching for him amongst the group. “Red with me. Yeo, on pink. Mohan, with Jesse and Donnie managing yellow as much as possible. There will be shit load of them, but our priority remains on stabilising our reds and pinks. If we need you, then be there. Both Doctor’s King and Ellis are on their way, when they arrive we can start treating yellow more aggressively.”

“Any questions?” Collins finishes, looking around expectantly. There’s a few hushed murmurs but otherwise no one says anything, and Collins claps her hands together before breezing through the crowd with Yeo swinging in behind her.

Within moments, Shen is at Dennis’s side. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he mutters under his breath, “start your engines.”

It’s not long until the first ambulance arrives. Dennis snaps his gloves on and rolls his shoulders, Sophie on one side of him and Shen on the other. The rest of the department is paused, everyone tense and ready for whatever is about to come. He glances over to see Samira looking back, nods at him once, and he returns it briskly just as the ambulance bay doors open.

And it’s hell.

The moment the first gurney comes in, paramedics on either side with wheelchairs running up behind them, the department descends into chaos. There’s screaming, crying, begging. Hysterical patient’s clamour through clutching bleeding arms, legs, chests, faces. The stench of smoke billows through the room, singed hair and burnt clothes, the reek of fear thick and consuming as it seeps through the walls and into floor.

Dennis presses through it all. A gurney appears in front of him. Third-degree burns, blackened skin, unresponsive, palpable but thready pulse. Insert IO, fluid resuscitation, intubate patient, transfer to burns unit. Another gurney. Trample victim, responsive only to pain, easily palpable pulse. IO, fluids, intubate, transfer to pink for further assessment.

Paediatric. Unresponsive, no pulse, visible burns down left side, unknown haemorrhaging site. CPR, IO, ROSC, intubate, transfer to OR. Blunt force trauma, responsive to voice commands, palpable pulse, excessive bleeding from head wound. IO, fluids, atropine, tranexamic acid, gauze and pressure bandage, transfer to yellow for monitoring.

Traumatic partial amputation of lower arm, responsive, full pulse. Tourniquet, IO, fluids, bandages, transfer to pink. Trample victim, unresponsive, no pulse. CPR, IO, ROSC, intubate, transfer to pink for further assessment. Second degree burns, unresponsive, steady pulse. IO, fluids, transfer to burn unit. Paediatric trample victim, responsive, palpable pulse, dyspnea, visible signs of flail chest. IV, intubate, transfer to PICU. Smoke inhalation, unresponsive, barely palpable pulse. IO, fluids, intubate, transfer to HDU.

Fluids. Intubate. Transfer.

Fluids.

CPR.

ROSC.

Intubate.

Transfer.

He barely notices when others arrive. Mel is there though, thumping on his patient’s chest as he forces adrenaline into their veins. Ellis wheels a patient away with a shouted handover just as another gurney is shoved in front of Dennis. Princess looks just as surprised as he does to see one another, barely saying a word as their patient gasps and claws at their neck, smoke inhalation burning it raw.

Intubate.

Intubate.

His hand aches as he grips the laryngoscope, his other barely holding steady as he shoves tube after tube down patient’s throats, the chorus of “cuff up, visible end tidal CO2” becomes his prayer. Each chest rise with the squeeze of an AMBU bag soothes his nerves for only a moment, shattered again as another patient comes screaming into the room. Desperate parent’s clamour as his sides, jostling him as he drills IOs into too small bones, as kids scream or worse go silent. His gown reeks of smoke and dead skin each time he moves, covered in splashes of red blood as he tightens tourniquets and bandages seeping wounds. His hair is flattened from sweat, his body drenched, cold droplets dribble down his lower back and pools in the folds of his scrubs.

“Whitaker!” Shen keeps calling him, and Dennis scrambles, scrambles and scrambles to help. There’s not enough hands, not even as Langdon appears beside him, bags under his eyes but alert nonetheless. The dinging of the elevator dulls into white nose as the wards transfer and transfer, beds coming and going as orderlies sprint to keep up, catching soaking wet patient’s falling out of the showers only for nurses to replace them with another and another.

Cassie arrives, Mateo on her heels. They breeze straight through the department, gowned and gloved, heading for where Yeo is holding down pink. Dennis sees face after face he knows, he trusts, he relies on. It should help, it should make it easier.

But there’s no Dana. No Jack.

No Robby.

His phone sits heavy and useless in his pocket. He’d have heard the ringer over all the noise, felt it vibrate against his leg. But its silent and still and Dennis feels a gnawing deep panic in the pit of his stomach, sharp clawed and painful as he stares intently at every patient that comes through, desperate for a sign of those handsome crows feet, those soulful brown eyes, to hear the boom of his voice as he swoops in to take control of this entire fucking nightmare.

But he doesn’t come, he doesn’t call, and Dennis forces himself to focus on his patients.

Fluids. Intubate. Transfer.

Fluids.

CPR.

ROSC.

Intubate.

Transfer.

Eventually… the flow starts to ebb. Less comes through their doors, the stragglers wearing yellow bracelets with the odd pink in between. Dennis doffs his PPE and dons a new set, wading his way into the pink and overflowing yellow. Patient’s spill out of Chairs back into the department with some in the behavioural rooms, all twenty-two bays are full, and both traumas are holding cases yet to be transferred to the OR. Dennis is methodical as he starts in South Twenty-Two, intending to work his way back up towards Central, desperate for some order to steady the world beneath his feet.

“Okay?” Mel asks him quietly as they lean over a patient’s hand, both of them meticulously stitching up the three missing fingers. The patient is sedated, breathing heavily as he stares up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, and Dennis glances up at him before giving Mel a tight-lipped smile.

“Fine,” he lies.

Mel looks unconvinced but doesn’t push, even if Dennis can feel her worried gaze on him more than once. She leaves as he finishes up with the bandages, securing them tightly before he steps out of the bay. He pauses briefly as he glances around the department, taking just a moment to fish his phone out of his pocket and turn it on.

No messages. No calls. His heart sinks like lead into his stomach. With a shaking hand, he pulls up Robby’s number and calls it, closing his eyes and praying for an answer.

It goes straight to voicemail, and Dennis chokes back a wounded noise as he shoves his phone away and turns into the next bay.

Burns and broken bones pass in blur. Bandages and backslabs, dressings and casts. Cuts and scrapes and wounds that gape. He glues what he can, stitches what he can’t. The patient flow may have stopped but the department has stagnated, people clamour for attention, tempers flare as Lena steps in to manage what she can, her tired voice crackling over the tannoy again and again.

“It was a nightmare,” a patient tells him, an older woman with superficial yet nasty burns on her arms that he’s just finished dressing, having made his way to the end of the South bays. “The whole display tipped on its side and shot across the river into the crowd. There must’ve been hundreds of them.”

Her daughter hums beside her, relatively unscathed besides the few cuts and scrapes from being trodden on by a panicking crowd. “The ones down at the riverside got it the worst. I think a few people didn’t make it.”

Dennis freezes, his pulse quickens. On the riverside. The riverside. He thinks of the photo Robby sent him, their prime position for the fireworks display. It would’ve been beautiful, right underneath them as they’d broken out in the sky over the river in a dazzling flash of colours.

Except…

“Doctor?” the daughter calls to him, and Dennis blinks as he looks up at her. “Are you alright?”

He opens his mouth but chokes on whatever words were going to come out. His head rushes, blood pulses in his ears, his mouth opens and closes uselessly before he awkwardly clears his throat. “Yes,” he stutters out, swallowing down his rising panic as he stands abruptly, his wheeled-stool smashing back against the cubicle wall. “I, ah… I just need to…”

“Doctor?”

“Prescription,” he manages to get out, panic clawing past his desperate need to stay professional. “I-I need to get you a prescription fo-for pain relief.” He stumbles backward, both women staring at him in horror. “I’ll be right-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as he flees, slipping out from behind the curtain and hurtling around past the Hub. He intends to bolt to the stairs, maybe the viewing room, bloody anywhere away from all the prying eyes he can feel searing into him, but before he can even get past the trauma bays, Langdon suddenly appears in front of him.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he says as he catches Dennis by the shoulders, dragging him to a stumbling halt. “Where’s the fire, kid?”

Dennis shakes his head, breath heaving achingly shallow in his chest. “Frank, I-” He stutters, breath hitches, gasps painfully.

“Shit, Dennis,” Langdon swears, gripping his shoulders even firmer as his eyes soften, his eyebrows furrow. “Breathe. Just breathe.” Dennis tries, his vision spots as he tries to drag air down his constricting throat. “Come on, buddy. You’re alright. Everything is alright.”

Dennis glances around, horrified to see the Hub filled with too many of the others. Samira looks ready to clear the desks to get to him, Mel’s grip on her arm the only thing holding her back, and Lena is already striding towards them with obvious concern. Donnie, Mateo, and Shen are just on the other side of the Hub, craning their necks around to get a good look at them, and Jesse pops his head out from Trauma One with a frown and for fucks sake, do they not have anything better to do?

“Dennis,” Lena says soothingly, motherly, as she reaches them. “Hey, hey. Talk to us. What’s going on?”

Dennis breaks. “He hasn’t answered,” he heaves out, words a jumbled mix, he’s not sure they’re coherent. “He’s not- he was there, on-on the banks, and he’s not responding and-”

“Who?” Langdon interrupts, giving him a small shake, and Dennis lets out a noise dangerously close to a sob as he shakes his head, pushing the heel of his hand against his right eye. “Dennis! Who?”

There’s a sudden commotion, cutting Dennis off before he can even speak, and Langdon mutters a curse under his breath as they turn towards the ambulance bay, the doors sliding opening for Collins to burst through them, escorted by paramedics and less than a handful of people in a flurry of activity.

“Last of the stragglers!” she calls out to the department, looking tired but relieved as she gestures behind her with a wide smile. “Familiar faces too!”

She steps aside to let said stragglers pass her, and Dennis’s heart stutters when he sees Jack stumble forward in an awkward tangle, Dana’s arm slung over his shoulder as she sags against him, both of them with singed hair and dirty clothes and looking absolutely exhausted… while trailing behind them, just as burnt and sooty and harried-

“Michael,” Dennis cries, his feet moving before he can think, ripping Langdon’s hands away as he sprints across the Hub, heart pounding, blood rushing, chest tightening.

Straight into Robby’s waiting arms.

His feet leave the ground, momentum nearly sending them both crashing to floor if it wasn’t for Robby taking most of the impact, catching Dennis with a massive bear hug. Dennis doesn’t pause to care, instead he throws his arms around Robby’s neck and presses into him, nose nestling into the crook of Robby’s shoulder as he barely holds back the sobs threatening to choke him.

“You’re okay,” he gasps, voice muffled by the bunched fabric of Robby’s hoodie, twisting his hands up in it. “Oh God, please tell me you’re okay.”

One of Robby’s arms stays curled firmly around his waist, dragging Dennis impossibly closer, while the other hand comes up to nestle in amongst Dennis’s curls. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, voice calming like a much needed balm as he nudges his nose in against Dennis’s temple. “I’m here. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He smells like smoke, scorched clothes and burnt hair, the bitterness of sweat laid underneath. Dennis clings tighter, inhales it all, feels the thudding of Robby’s carotid pulse against his cheek, the rise and fall of his chest pressed to his own. He’s alive, so very very alive, and he shudders as he lets out a small broken noise, Robby’s fingers carding through his hair as if to hush him.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I’m okay.”

Dennis loses track of how long they stand together, how long he feels Robby breathe against him, how long he spends reminding himself he’s okay and here and safe… but eventually the world comes creeping back in. The clamour of an emergency room, beeping monitors, yelling patients, the crackle of the tannoy and squeaking wheels of beds and equipment. It all breaks through the fragile moment in a sudden rush and Dennis’s eyes snap back open with the abrupt and violent realisation of just what kind of spectacle he’s created.

“Oh,” he gasps, freezing in Robby’a arms. “Shit.”

Robby lets out a raspy chuckle. “Yeah.” He shifts his head to look up, and Dennis dreads to know what he’s seeing, just who is looking back in the very real bubble of silence around them. “Shit, indeed.”

He doesn’t want to move, not even by the grace of God himself, but slowly he drops his arms down until his hands settle on Robby’s chest. Robby’s own slip around to hold just Dennis’s sides, not letting go yet, and Dennis takes a steadying breath as he leans back just slightly to look up at Robby.

Who looks exhausted, and Dennis runs his eyes over those tired eyes, the crows feet pulling at their edges from that tense smile, the blackened soot over his cheeks and nose and the oozing wound cutting through his left eyebrow. He glances down to see there’s a makeshift bandage wrapped around Robby’s upper arm, his hoodie is torn in too many places, and there’s that smell of singed hair and skin that is too strong to come solely from small burn at his hairline.

He needs medical attention, and it’s that thought alone that makes Dennis’s back go ramrod straight before he squares his jaw and turns around.

Just to see everyone staring right back.

Dennis’s throat seizes, his chest tightens, and only Robby’s hands still on his sides keep him from bolting out the ambulance bay doors. Dana and Jack have frozen right beside them, stiller than statues even with their injuries, while Collins seems like she’s about to throw a fit. Langdon and Samira openly gape at them, Mel looks more than a little confused as she glances about at the others, Lena’s mouth is pursed with something too close to disappointment, while Donnie and Mateo are not-so-subtly nudging one another and Shen’s grin is borderline nefarious before he takes a long loud drag from his iced coffee.

There’s a pause.

“Alright you lot,” Dana suddenly snaps, breaking the tense spell. “I’ve got burns on my ass and I’m missing half an eyebrow.” She scowls at the room, everyone immediately snapping to attention. “Might I suggest we cut the gawking and get back to our jobs?”

Her vitriol is enough to make most of them scarper, vanishing off to waiting patients in a flurry of stolen glances and overcompensatory conversation. Dana turns an irritated yet pointed glare Langdon’s way, and he hurries forward without a word to relieve Jack of their grumpy charge nurse, tossing her arm over his shoulder and accepting the muttered swearing from her with grace.

“South Seventeen, Eighteen, and Nineteen are free,” Shen instructs as he appears beside Robby, still looking too smug as he leads their small group, and Dennis trails along behind them as they thankfully head to the bottom of the department, far away from the break room and most of the prying eyes. He doesn’t stop to think perhaps he shouldn’t follow, even when Collins calls his name gruffly.

However, Shen does give him an unimpressed look as he automatically starts to follow Robby into South Ninteen, and Dennis mentally kicks himself before a large hand drops onto his shoulder.

“Come on, kid,” Jack grumbles, “you’re with me.”

Of all three, Dennis isn’t entirely he should be the one treating Jack, but Langdon has already disappeared with Dana into South Eighteen and he doesn’t envy him having to look at her burns in… less than ideal places. So, instead, he follows behind Jack, his attending, Robby’s best friend… the one that doesn’t know about them.

Fuck. Keeping secrets… Dennis might just regret it a lot more than he thinks.

Jack is quick to hop up onto the bed as they close the curtain on South Seventeen, grimacing as he goes and letting out a heavily pained groan. Dennis hovers near the curtain as he watches Jack shrug out of his t-shirt, he’s missing the jacket he’d left with hours earlier, and he grunts with the movement as takes off his prosthesis to dumb on the bed beside him. Dennis has to shake himself, blink a couple of times as he feels himself start to steady again, before he sets his jaw and snaps on a pair of gloves.

Jack, however, raises his eyebrow as Dennis steps up beside him and reaches out to take his left hand, starting to methodically check for injuries.

“You know, I am a doctor,” Jack chides, and Dennis huffs in response as he turns Jack’s arm over, pulling on a long cut he can see on the underside of his arm, making Jack suck in a breath through his teeth in a pained hiss.

“So am I,” he replies. “Let me be one.”

Jack goes quiet. Dennis tries not to meet his eyes, focusing instead on cataloguing his injuries. Besides the long cut on his arm, not deep enough to require stitches, there’s another shallow one on the side of his neck, a nasty looking burn under his chin, and a few scrapes and scratches littering his face and arms.

Dennis listens to his chest, absence of crackles and wheezing. No smoke inhalation damage. Steady breathing. A pulse oximeter shows his saturations to be at ninety-eight percent, not perfect but not noteworthy. Heart rate of sixty-five, strong and steady. Blood pressure slightly elevated, but Dennis can’t blame him for that.

“Pain score?” he asks, and Jack lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe a five,” he says, just a little sarcastic. “Headache is getting worse by the minute.”

Dennis manages not to pull a face as he turns around to shed his gloves and rattle through the drawers. Normally he’d call one of the nurses in to help him dress wounds and clean the patient’s up, if not leave them to do it altogether, but he can’t bear the thought of having someone else in here with them right now. Already there’s a tension in the room that they’ll have to eventually address, but for now he just lays out the wound pack, slips on another pair of gloves, and turns to the cut on Jack’s arm.

Jack’s expression is unreadable as Dennis gently cleans the wound and surrounding skin with saline-soaked gauze. It must hurt, the skin is a little more ragged under the blood and debris than he thought, and Dennis pats it dry carefully before moving to clean the more superficial ones further up on his arms. They’re a mixture of depths, most though just scrapped abrasions, almost like he’s been scratched by something or someone…

Dennis swallows thickly, his hands pause, and Jack sighs.

“People get desperate, kid,” he murmurs, and Dennis sometimes wonders if Jack even knows his name. “Can’t blame them. It was an absolute clusterfuck.”

Dennis hesitates. “What happened?”

“One of the mortar racks fell over.” Jack winces as Dennis shifts up to the cut on his neck, obediently tilting his head slightly for easier access. “Must’ve been a couple of thousand fireworks in it. Launched straight over the river into the crowd.” Dennis glances up to see Jack’s jaw clench, muscles working tightly. “Blew up the place. Set half the buildings on fire, a bunch of people too. Haven’t seen anything quite like that since…”

He trails off. Dennis doesn’t press, doesn’t acknowledge it. Robby hasn’t told him much but from what little he knows of Jack’s history, there’s a reason for that faraway look in his eye. The prosthesis on the bed beside them is a story in of itself, and Dennis pays none of it any heed as he cleans around the burn on Jack’s chin before shifting over to Jack’s other arm.

The first dab of betadine is enough to pull Jack from his thoughts, hissing through his teeth as his head snaps over to glare at Dennis. Not that he even flinches, his hand firmly holds Jack’s elbow as he applies the yellow antiseptic all over the long cut, careful of him yanking away.

Jack doesn’t though, just bores a hole in the top of Dennis’s head with his eyes. “We helped who we could,” he continues, as if there hasn’t been one long pregnant pause. “Robby took charge. He’s good in a crisis.”

He is, but Dennis finds he can’t agree aloud. He continues dotting Jack with blots of betadine, focusing on the deeper cuts and scrapes, tilting Jack’s head side to side as gently as he can as he avoids meeting his gaze.

“Total fuck up.” Jack clears his throat as Dennis steps back to rustle around for the dressings, choosing a few different sized tegaderm pads and a pack of steri-strips. “Not the only one I’ve seen tonight though.” He holds his arm out for Dennis to dress the wound, not complaining when Dennis smoothes out the film over the hair around it. It’ll be a bitch to remove later. “I’ve known Robby a long time. Never has it occurred to me that he’d be messing around with one of our junior residents.”

Dennis stays silent, ears burning red. He knew it would come up. He knew. How could it not?

“Or I’m guessing that’s what this is.” Jack clears his throat. “Although, Robby’s never been the type for flings.”

Dennis grits his teeth as he reaches for the last dressing, a small hydrogel to press to the burn on Jack’s chin, before he shifts away from the bed with the rubbish screwed up in his hands. He dumps it all in the bin, flicks off his gloves to chuck in after them, before sanitising his hands and taking a harrowing deep breath. He should go write up his notes, document everything… get the fuck out of here.

“You gonna say anything, kid?” Jack suddenly demands, making Dennis jump at the abrupt harshness. His eyes snap up to meet Jack’s, wide and shocked as Jack glowers back, jaw tight and nostrils flaring angrily.

“I…” he trails off, unsure just what to say. “Like what?”

Jack lets out a bark of a laugh, reaching up to run his hand over his face. “Jesus, anything?” He pinches his nose. “Do you understand what has to happen from here? For both of you?” At Dennis’s blank stare, Jack groans. “This isn’t something that’s going to go back under the radar, kid. You’ve fucked up. Fraternisation isn’t just frowned upon, it’s cause for disciplinary action.”

Dennis shakes his head. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh?” Jack narrows his eyes at him. “Then tell me what it’s like. Tell me I don’t have to go and inform HR that Robby has been fraternising with a junior resident, with his direct subordinate.” He leans forward, arms length away but still too close. “Tell me I don’t have to rat out my best fucking friend because he’s made a goddamn fuck up that could ruin not just his career, but yours too.”

“He hasn’t,” the words rip from Dennis in a desperate gasp. “I promise. We- It’s not…”

Dennis can’t speak though, heart in his throat, stress prickling the nerves along his spine. His stomach sits like lead, heavy and dreading, and he can’t help but just shake his head again as Jack stares at him, looking torn between furious and desperate.

But then Jack’s eyes soften, barely but enough. “Dennis,” he says. “You need to talk to me.”

It’s enough. Dennis nods, reaching up to run a shaky hand through his hair, chews on his bottom lip for a lingering moment as he finds the words. “A year,” he starts, voice quiet. “We’ve been together a year.” He grips his hair in a sharp tug before crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not a fling, Jack. It never has been.”

Jack sits up straighter, head quirked just slightly to the side. “It started when you were an intern?”

“It started when I approached him,” Dennis asserts, “as a fully-grown adult who was and is more than capable of making my own decisions.” He holds Jack’s gaze. “There has been no power imbalance at any time, no favouritism or bias. Robby is a perfect professional.”

“I don’t doubt that. Not one bit.” Jack crosses his arms to match Dennis. “There are rules though.” He grimaces. “Unfortunately after tonight’s spectacle, it’s going to get out, kid.”

Surprisingly, hearing that nickname makes some of the tension in Dennis’s shoulders ease. “I’m sorry.”

Jack huffs with a small smile. “Don’t apologise. Not to me.” He inclines his head towards the curtain leading out to the department. “Not to them either.” He pauses, grimaces. “HR, on the other hand…”

Dennis drops his head into in hands. “How serious is it going to be?”

“There will be an internal investigation. That can’t be avoided.” Jack sighs. “They’re going to audit all your papers, all your assessments, everything you’ve ever written or had written about you. Your entire residency up until now will be under scrutiny. They will be looking for anything that could indicate that Robby has shown you even the slightest leniency.”

“They won’t,” Dennis says confidently. “He stopped being my direct supervisor the moment we got together.”

“Good.” Jack hesitates, taps his fingers against his arms before he lowers them to his lap. “I know Robby would have done this right.” He rolls his eyes. “Even if the idiot has done it wrong all the same.”

Dennis shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry on his behalf?”

Jack laughs abruptly, eyes glinting with amusement. “Thanks, kid. It’s the only apology I’ll get from him.” He sobers. “This is going to be hard, Dennis. There’s no easy way forward.” Dennis opens his mouth, but Jack presses on. “I’m on your side though. Yours and Robby’s.”

Dennis feels a lump form in his throat, his eyes sting. “Thank you.”

Jack smiles at him. It’s warm and kind, something Dennis has never quite seen before, but the moment it’s there is the moment it goes, and Jack jerks his head at the curtain as he reaches for his prosthesis.

“Go,” he orders harshly. “You’ve got notes to do and I’m sure there’s another doctor somewhere that could do with your attention.”

Dennis takes the dismissal, nodding his head as he shuffles to the curtain, slipping out from behind it as he heaves a breath of relief into his lungs. He pauses just on the other side, holding that breath in for a moment, before he lets it out and glances over to South Nineteen.

The curtain is still very firmly shut, and Dennis forces himself to walk to the computer hub in front of him instead.

By the time Shen finally emerges from South Nineteen, Dennis has nearly chewed his way through his bottom lip.

A nervous habit he’s never been able to shake, Dennis’s lip smarts fiercely as his head snaps up to watch the attending leave the cubicle. He’s not exactly subtle, still perched at the closest computer hub updating the details on the few patients he’s managed to see while waiting for Shen to be finished with Robby. Not much, just another few burns and one blatant concussion shipped off for a CT scan, but enough to keep him busy in the meantime.

Shen spots him though and he comes to stand on the opposite side of the desk to him. Dennis is hesitant to meet his gaze, but when he does its only to see an amused smirk on Shen’s face as he reaches down to pick up the reusable iced coffee cup from beside Dennis’s elbow.

He takes a long drawn out drag from the straw, pointed enough to make Dennis squirm. “So,” he drawls, clearly delighting in Dennis’s discomfort, “lover boy’s free now. Guess you’ll be taking your half hour?”

Dennis hesitates. “Is that allowed?”

Shen laughs, shaking his head as his grin broadens. “Cute. Real cute.”

He doesn’t actually answer though as he turns to flounce off back into the department. Dennis watches him go, still entirely uncertain, but when Shen doesn’t look back and miraculously the department doesn’t even falter… he figures Shen wasn’t taking the piss after all.

The curtain gives way easily under his hand as he hustles towards South Nineteen, and he shoves himself around it as quickly as possible in an effort not to be seen. Shen might not care, but that doesn’t mean others won’t, and if Jack is to be believed then there are going to be a lot that will.

All thoughts vanish though the second he lays eyes on Robby, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, slumped shoulders with his head in his hands.

“Shen, can we not-”

“Michael.”

Robby’s head snaps up just as Dennis reaches him, and Dennis sees his relieved expression right before he crashes into him, throwing his arms around Robby’s neck as he wedges himself between his knees. Robby immediately pulls him closer, warm hands pressing against Dennis’s sides as he wraps him up in a tight embrace, and Dennis lets out a shuddering breath as he sags into Robby’s hold, pressing his face into the curve of his neck.

“You okay?” Robby asks him, voice muffled into Dennis’s shoulder, and Dennis huffs in disbelief.

“Shouldn’t it be me asking you that?” He pulls away enough that Robby straightens to look down at him with kind eyes, still taller than Dennis even while sitting. “Are you okay?”

Robby smiles, it’s tired at the edges but still completely genuine. “I’m better now.”

Dennis feels his eyes burn, a salty sting, even as he rolls them in fond exasperation. He reaches up to cup Robby’s still sooty cheek, heart clenching when he leans into his touch, and Dennis runs his other hand over the neatly stitched cut arching through his left eyebrow. Robby winces, just slightly, and Dennis bites his bottom lip as he snatches his hand back in regret.

“Hey now,” Robby scolds him softly, letting go of his waist just to gently pry Dennis’s lip out from under his teeth with a push of his thumb. “Stop that, sweetheart.”

Dennis clears his throat and blinks away the tears. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s been a long shift.”

“I know.” Robby smiles at him as he presses a small kiss to the inside of his wrist, his hand resting over top of Dennis’s to keep him in place. “I know.”

The guilt still gnaws at Dennis though and he shifts his attention down to Robby’s left arm. He’s shed his hoodie, it’s lying in a torn dirty mess at their feet, and he can see there’s a new bandage neatly wrapped around his upper arm replacing the makeshift one he’d seen earlier. He runs his fingers over it, just barely, too scared to actually touch..

“What happened?”

Robby sighs as he looks down at his arm. “Got hit by firework debris. Nearly took my arm off.” Dennis makes a small noise, but Robby pushes his arm up into his hand before he can pull away again. “It’s fine. Shen stitched it and put some local in.” He grimaces as he lets go of Dennis’s hand against his cheek to lift the edge of his shirt, revealing the large hydrogel dressing covering his left side. “Nasty burn from it too. It will all heal.”

Dennis swallows around the lump in his throat. “Michael-”

“Am I in trouble?” Robby interrupts him, smiling as he tilts his head to the side, the burn at his hairline just a small red lump. “You only call me that when I’m in trouble.”

“No!” Dennis shakes his head. “No, of course not, I just…” He trails off, at a loss. “You scared me.”

Robby’s expression softens. He rests his hands on Dennis’s hips as he lets out a sigh, and Dennis’s own settle down onto Robby’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Robby murmurs. “I should have answered my phone when I had the chance.” He shrugs a little helplessly. “It broke at some stage. I think Dana has it. I can’t imagine what you were thinking.”

“I don’t mean…” Dennis closes his eyes, breathes through his nose. “You did the right thing. All three of you did.”

Robby nudges him, smiles when Dennis opens his eyes again. “So did you. Shen told me. He was seriously impressed with you tonight.”

Dennis frowns. “He was?”

“Of course.” Robby hums as he reaches up to tuck some of Dennis’s curls behind his ear. “Jack okay?”

“Yeah.” Dennis swallows around his suddenly dry throat. “He, uh, let me have it though.” At Robby’s raised eyebrows, Dennis dips his chin and speaks to Robby’s chest. “Told me that HR is going to be involved now. That we’re going to be under a microscope.” He laughs humourlessly. “I fucked up, Robby, I’m so sorry.”

Robby doesn’t reply straight away. Instead his hands tighten on Dennis’s hips before he slips his arms around him completely, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other presses into the small of his back. He clenched his thighs on either side of Dennis’s own as he somehow pulls him in even closer, trapping Dennis against his chest as his chin comes down to rest on the top of Dennis’s head.

“There is nothing to apologise for,” Robby murmurs as Dennis leans into him, hands slipping down to clutch the smokey fabric of Robby’s shirt in his fists. “If anyone, it’s me that should be apologising. It wasn’t fair to try and keep this a secret. To keep you as a secret.”

Dennis huffs, pushing his nose into the crook of Robby’s neck. “We agreed on it together.”

“And I should have known better.” Robby rubs firm circles into the small of his back. “You deserve more than that.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dennis’s head. “I want to give you more than that.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Robby, I…” He trails off, words sticking in his throat for a horrible moment. “What if we screwed up? What if-”

“We haven’t,” Robby cuts him off. “The moment things started with us, I stepped down as one of your direct supervisors. There has been no conflict of interest throughout your entire residency here.” When Dennis opens his mouth to protest, Robby suddenly pulls him back, cupping his jaw as he forces Dennis to meet his eyes. “Trust me, Den, there wasn’t any overlap.”

Dennis remains unconvinced. “How do you know?” he asks, voice fragile. “I can’t remember. What if there was an assessment you oversaw before that we didn’t realise-“

“Den,” Robby stresses, pushing his thumb to Dennis’s mouth to quieten him. “There wasn’t.” He seems to hesitate for a moment before he sighs. “To step down as a direct supervisor isn’t easy. It has to be signed off officially by another senior attending. It’s documented exactly when I stepped down, which was coincidentally the day before our first date.”

Dennis pauses, mind racing. “You… you didn’t tell me that.” He narrows his eyes though. “Wait, who- who signed it off?”

There’s a red flush on Robby’s cheeks as he averts his eyes, looking somewhere decidedly over Dennis’s shoulder instead. “It doesn’t matter-” Dennis pinches him, right on his collarbone, and Robby hisses as he snatches Dennis’s wrist to stop him. “Ouch.”

“Who, Michael?”

Robby grimaces as his shoulders sag, looking more than a little guilty as he admits. “Shen.”

Dennis’s mouth falls open, eyes widening in pure horror. “Shen?” he squawks, Robby shushing him with a hard squeeze to his wrist. “You mean to tell me Shen has known about us the whole time?”

“Someone had to,” Robby replies defensively, looking tense around the edges of his mouth.

“Why not Jack?” Dennis demands. “He’s your friend.”

“Exactly why it couldn’t be him.” Robby sighs as he drops Dennis’s hand and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, toying with his sweat-dried curls. “Shen agreed as long as I signed off on letting him keep that atrocious coffee machine in his locker.” When Dennis looks confused, Robby huffs with a half-smile. “It short-circuited the whole staff room on an evening shift a few days prior. I wrote a report saying it was the old microwave instead. He got to keep it, I got signed off.”

Dennis stares at him, mouth open slightly. “Are you… are you telling me the only reason why Shen hasn’t told the whole department about us is because of a coffee machine?”

Robby scoffs. “No, he hasn’t told the whole department about us because he genuinely doesn’t care.” He leans forward to press their foreheads together. “Seriously, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s all going to be fine. We are going to be fine.”

Dennis sighs with disbelief. “You are a ridiculous man.”

Robby grins. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

Before Dennis can reply, Robby’s hand tightens in his hair before he hauls him in for a bruising kiss. Dennis lets out a gasp as Robby leans over him, bending him slightly backwards with a touch to the small of his back, and he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Robby’s hair as Robby coaxes him into deepening the kiss, his beard scratching against his cheeks, deliciously licking into Dennis mouth and drawing soft whines from him.

It’s too much, not enough.

Dennis’s sharp tug on Robby’s hair makes him growl, and he nips at Dennis’s bruised lip as he pulls back. “Cheeky.”

“We’re at work,” Dennis reminds him with another sharper tug of his hair, and Robby just grins unabashedly. “And I’m still angry with you for lying to me.”

Robby sobers. “I’m sorry, Dennis.”

“I know.” He leans in kiss Robby chastely before pulling away entirely, Robby’s legs falling open to let him go although one hand remains gripping Dennis’s hip. “I will forgive you.” Dennis reaches up to run his fingers over the stitches on Robby’s face, “For now, I think it’s time to go home.”

Robby looks hopeful. “Together?”

Dennis laughs, quite genuinely. “If only.” He inclines his head up to the clock on the wall beside them, the hands firmly pointing at ten and two. “I’ve still got five hours left.” At Robby’s pout, he runs his fingers through his beard playfully. “You, however, are ready for discharge.”

Robby hums. “I could wait until the end of shift.”

Dennis shakes his head fondly, looks at the heavy bags under Robby’s eyes and the heavy slump to his shoulders, running on fumes with all his energy sapped from him. “You need sleep.” He leans forward to press a kiss to Robby’s forehead, just beside his stitches. “By the time you wake up, I’ll be home with you.”

“Promise?”

Dennis huffs. “Promise.”

Appeased, Robby finally lets Dennis go, allowing him to take the few steps back needed to break them apart. It seems the moment he does though, all the fight leaves Robby as he sags on the bed, reaching up to rub his eyes. Dennis feels a rush of affection flutter in his chest, and he’s just about to say something when suddenly the curtain rips open, making them both jump with surprise.

“Fucking finally,” Jack grumbles as he stomps into the cubicle, a foul glare on his face, looking fierce even with the bandages on his face. “I nearly threw up my dinner waiting on you two to finish.”

Robby lets out a groan, tilting his head back with irritation. “You weren’t exactly invited, Jack.”

“No.” Jack gives Dennis a rueful smile before he lifts a set of keys up, twirling them around his finger. “But someone has to drive your lousy ass home, and even if she wanted to speak to you, Dana’s staying in overnight for those burns on her ass.”

“Classy,” Robby mutters as Dennis feels his cheeks redden in embarrassment for her. “Can’t wait for that dressing down.” He slips off the bed, wincing with the movement before he scoops up his wrecked hoodie and slings it over one arm. “No doubt you’re about to give me one too.”

“Of biblical proportions.” Jack glances at Dennis, surprising him with a wink. “Enjoy the rest of your shift, Whitaker.”

He marches out of the cubical, waving over his shoulder in a dismissive way. Dennis can’t help but feel fond for a moment, something he sees reflected in Robby as they turn to each other, and they both let out little breathless laughs.

“Wish me luck?” Robby asks, and Dennis grins at him.

“No,” he says, and Robby’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I won’t.”

Later, much later, when the clock reads as seven-forty-three in the morning… Dennis finally gets home.

The apartment is quiet, peaceful. He treads over the hardwood floors with hardly a creak, slipping into the bedroom as he sheds his scrubs in a pile on the floor, the room lit by the single bedside lamp on his side of the bed.

“Den?” Robby’s muffled voice calls out, and Dennis smiles as he lifts back the sheets. Robby blinks up at him, hair mussed with a soft barely-there smile, and Dennis’s heart skips for just a moment.

“Hey,” he murmurs as he slides in, Robby’s hand already reaching out for him. “Go back to sleep.”

Robby hums as he pulls himself towards Dennis, nudging in against his side as he loops an arm around Dennis’s waist. “How did it go?”

Dennis smiles, the heaviness of his shift long since soothed, Lena’s parting hug still a pleasant warm weight around his shoulders. “Later, okay?”

“Mmk.” Robby’s breath brushes over Dennis’s bare chest, raising goosebumps. “Love you.”

Dennis tugs the sheets back down around them, cocooning them in together. “I know.” He presses a kiss to Robby’s wild hair. “Love you too.”

Robby lets out pleased sigh as he sags against Dennis, already fast asleep. He won’t remember when they wake up later, when he’s sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed. Dennis doesn’t mind, not if it means being pushed back into the sheets as Robby reminds him again and again just how much he means that.

For now though, Dennis simply turns off the light.