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Dennis Whitaker has been dating Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch for a week.
Only a week, but also somehow already a whole week.
He doesn’t think he’s imagined the change, he knows he hasn’t, but it still catches him off guard sometimes, how easily most things have settled into place now that the three of them have stopped pretending there wasn’t something real between them.
A week isn’t that long a time.
He knows that.
He knows that this is new, and fragile, and that they’re still figuring out all the little things about him, and him them, as their relationship begins to fully take shape.
But also… sometimes, when Robby takes his hand as they walk into the grocery store, or when Jack kisses him goodbye before his shifts, or when the two of them drag him into bed and hold him until he falls asleep… it kind of feels like they’ve been doing this forever.
Because he doesn’t know what their lives looked like before him, and he knows now that he obviously never will, but it sort of doesn’t matter, in a way. Because they welcomed him with open arms, and now Dennis has been twisted into their lives like they couldn’t bear to let him go.
It still makes him a little dizzy, when he faces the reality of it all over again. Never in his life would he have thought he would ever end up anywhere like here, like this, dating two married middle aged men, living with a chronic illness, with friends who cared about him and loved him.
It’s surreal, when he looks back to the boy he was before he went to medical school, who’d never been out of Nebraska, had never been allowed to experiment with his queerness beyond simply acknowledging it to himself in the dark, who spent his days outside giving his all to the farm.
It doesn’t seem real that he is that boy.
That boy would never believe he was him.
But he is.
And he’s happy.
Robby’s guilt is still boundless and all encompassing, and even though he touches Dennis again and he kisses him and he holds him and he does everything he’d expect, there’s still something in the way he hesitates, sometimes, and those beautiful bushy brows furrow as he retreats into his head.
He won’t kiss Dennis in the car (most of the time. There have been a few exceptions), won’t acknowledge their relationship anywhere further than the front door (unless they’ve got the day off), he keeps any information that could be gleaned about the very fact that they’re dating tightly locked away.
Jack’s a little less subtle, he’ll kiss Dennis in the car, in the bathroom, in the staff room, but only when they’re sure they’re alone, and even then, Jack hesitates just a little sometimes.
And it’s fine.
It’s not like Dennis is desperate to have their relationship common knowledge just yet, he’s seen how vicious the Pitt can be with gossip, but still it hurts just a little to see that despite his best efforts, Robby’s still at war with himself.
They do need to tell Gloria eventually, that much is clear, it’s just a matter of… when…
And really, none of them want to.
Especially not Robby.
Because he is convinced that he’s fucking up his life and Dennis’ with this. (He’d been worried about Jack too — and probably still was — until Jack had politely told him to fuck off and let him worry about himself). He’s convinced himself that he’s wrong, he’s perverse, he’s a degenerate, and it’s getting to the point where as much as it breaks Dennis’ heart to see him so intensely refuse himself something he wants, it’s also a little bit frustrating.
He doesn’t know how much clearer he and Jack can make it that Robby’s not wrong for this, that he’s allowed to want things, but no matter what they say it doesn’t really seem to get through.
From what Jack’s told him though, this is a recurrent theme with Michael Robinavitch, and always has been.
It’s a Thursday afternoon.
Robby’s on a day shift, and Jack on a night, and Dennis (thankfully) enjoying a day off.
The two of them are sitting on the back steps looking out at the garden, cooling cups of coffee sitting beside them.
“So,” Jack says after a long moment, not looking over at him yet. “I wanted to give you a heads up when about something.”
Dennis turns toward him immediately, his face twisting with concern, “Okay?”
Jack scratches absently at his jaw, then exhales. “Next weekend is me and Robby’s ten-year wedding anniversary.”
Oh. Dennis’ face lights up, and he nods, reaching out to slip his arm through Jack’s. “Ten years?”
Jack smiles. “Somehow. Feels like only yesterday.” Then, more carefully, “I’ve booked us a place out of town. Just the two of us. A couple nights away.”
Dennis doesn’t even have to think about it. “That’s perfect,” he says immediately. “You should absolutely go. Take him somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet. Please get his head out of the ER.”
Jack finally looks at him then, studying him for a long moment. There’s a tick of tension in his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek, mirrored in his temple. It looks almost as if he’s bracing for something more, but Dennis doesn’t give it to him.
“I mean it,” Dennis adds, leaning forward a little, arm tightening around Jack’s. He presses the pads of his fingers into the meat of his bicep. “You deserve it. He deserves it. You’ve been together what — twenty five years? And now married for a decade? You have to go.”
Jack’s expression eases and his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of him. He brings a hand up and covers Dennis’, his calloused palm rough against his knuckles. “Twenty three. You’re really okay with it?”
Dennis snorts, leaning his head against his partner's shoulder. “Jack, if you didn't take him away, I’d be offended on his behalf.”
That gets a laugh out of him, and he presses a kiss into Dennis’ curls.
“I was worried you might feel…” Jack trails off, then shakes his head. “Never mind.”
Dennis shifts even closer, pressing their thighs together. “I won’t. I don’t. I promise. You two need time that’s just yours. I know I’m new to this, but I’m not here to wedge myself between you. I’ve kept you two apart… a lot. You deserve some privacy.”
Jack’s gaze softens to something almost reverent, and he squeezes Dennis again. “You’re not keeping us apart,” he says quietly. “You haven’t got in the way, I promise.”
Dennis smiles, turning to press his face into Jack’s shoulder. “I desperately owe Trinity a night out, I’ve not been a great friend recently to her with… everything, so I sort of need to go and beg her forgiveness with a lot of alcohol.”
Jack laughs again, “well she’ll be thrilled by that. Or not, I think you’ll have to do a fair bit of grovelling.”
Dennis groans, but he grins into his boyfriend's arm. “Oh don’t remind me, I think I downplayed how much I need to beg. She’s not answered my texts in weeks.”
There’s a huff from besides him, before Dennis pushes himself up off of Jack, as upsetting as it is to withdraw from his warm arm.
“Hold up… wait — only ten years? But you’ve been together twenty — twenty three?” He asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he looks up at Jack.
Something deep passes over Jack’s expression, and he sighs, turning to meet Dennis’ gaze.
“Gay marriage wasn’t legal until ten years ago, kid.”
Oh.
Of course.
Dennis feels so stupid.
He remembers gay marriage becoming legalised, remembers the backlash, the distain from the people around him.
He drops his head, squeezing his eyes closed. “I’m sorry —“ he mumbles, but Jack shakes his head. He brings a hand up, scrubbing the tips of his fingers through Dennis’ curls, nails rough against his scalp.
“Oh hush, Mouse. It feels surreal to me too. I can’t believe how long we were hiding for, how many nights we used to lie awake dreaming about what married life could look like.” Jack says softly. “When gay marriage became legal, Mike and I got married as soon as we could, just in case that if they tried to take it away from us we could say that we at least were married.”
That breaks Dennis’ heart a little bit, but he nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Mike’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I’m thrilled that I got to marry him, and our wedding was beautiful — if a little rushed.” Jack gives him another squeeze. “And now we’ve got you, and no offence kid but you’re the second best thing.”
Dennis laughs, lifting his head to stretch up toward him, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth.
“Mmh, I’d be offended if you didn’t put Robby first… speaking of, I am muting both of your phones before you go, so you are not allowed to think about anything other than each other, okay? Especially not me. You are not allowed to think about me at all.”
Jack smiles and he nods. “Thank you, Mouse.” He murmurs, before pulling him in for a brief kiss, his hand squeezing Dennis’ jaw.
“Mhhh you don’t have to thank me,” Dennis mumbles against his mouth. “I’m working Friday day and then Sunday and Monday nights, so you especially don’t have to worry about me, okay?”
“Hard not to,” Jack says softly, “but we’ll try. If you’re with Trinity or working then that’s reassuring.”
“She’d sooner kill me than let anything happen to me.” Dennis grins, and kisses Jack again. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Jack kisses him again, his free hand coming up to grip at the scruff of Dennis’ neck.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” It’s not comfortable, talking with their mouths pressed together, but with Jack’s firm hand around him, holding him in place, it makes Dennis’ brain a little fuzzy, and he abandons the conversation in favour of eagerly kissing him instead.
Given the way their time off falls, Robby and Jack are off to the cabin Friday night, then back on Tuesday evening, so Robby and Jack drop Dennis off at work Friday morning, with a promise to pick him up in the evening and that they’ll drop him at Trinity’s place on their way up.
He’s thoroughly kissed in the car, before he’s pushed off towards the ED, a flask of coffee in hand, his bag neatly packed with his lunch, his medications and a change of clothes for the evening.
His weekend bag is packed, but they’ve promised to bring it by when they pick him up, to save him trying to shove it into his locker.
He barely makes it three steps through the double doors though, before Dana stops him.
She doesn’t say anything at first, just hooks a finger into the sleeve of his hoodie and steers him into an empty trauma bay.
The door clicks shut behind them.
She crosses her arms, leaning back against the countertop as she looks at him.
She doesn’t look angry, or annoyed, or even upset, so his initial fear that he’s done something gravely wrong fades a little.
What she does look, is knowing, and more than a little smug.
Dennis shifts uncomfortably on his feet.
After a long pause, she tilts her head. “Okay,” she says mildly. “Go on.”
“I—” Dennis starts, then stops. His mouth opens again, but nothing comes out.
Dana raises an eyebrow. “Dennis Whitaker,” she says calmly, “I have been running emergency departments longer than you’ve been alive. I have seen things. You have exactly ten seconds to start talking.”
Dennis cracks.
“We’re dating.” He blurts out. “I — me, all of us. Robby and Jack. And me. I don’t — I didn’t — it’s consensual and healthy and nobody’s being weird about power dynamics and I swear —”, He runs out of breath and just stares at her, mortified, waiting for her reaction.
Dana blinks once.
Then she snorts, actually snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Dennis freezes. “—what?”
She drops her hand and crosses her arms instead, giving him a look. It’s undercut by her smile though, probably fonder than she intends. “I know. I’ve seen you in the parking lot, you animals. You gotta learn to keep it PG.” She shakes her head, then chuckles again. “I can’t believe how little pressure it took for you to open up. C’mon farm boy, you gotta have a stronger resolution than that, didn’t they have a whole chat about not telling anyone with you?”
Dennis’ brain short-circuits. “You’re… not mad?”
“Kid,” Dana says dryly, “half this department has known that Jack and Robby are married for years. Hell — half of them were at the damn wedding. The other half seems unaware but think you’re fucking at least one of them. There are betting pools that have been going on since your first day.”
Dennis’s jaw drops. “Seriously? So everyone thinks something’s going on?”
“Everyone who pays attention,” she says. “Which, no offence, kid, clearly isn’t you.”
He sinks down onto the edge of the gurney, face in his hands.
“It’s hard to keep work and life separate.” He grumbles. “I guess it’s kinda obvious something is going on when they’re… like that, especially when I go low or whatever.”
Dana softens then. She steps closer, nudges his knee gently with hers.
“So what? You show up on time, you do your job, you help fuckin’ everyone, you don’t compromise patient care because of what’s going on with Robby and Jack. Your personal life is your business.”
Dennis presses his palms to his eyes. “I can’t believe everyone thinks we’re fucking.”
Dana pats his shoulder. “You’ll live.”
She pauses, then adds more gently, “How are you doing, really? With the diabetes. With all of it.”
Dennis exhales, then he shrugs, looking up at her. “Better,” he admits. “Still learning. But… better.”
She nods, satisfied. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. You gonna manage okay with everything without them for the weekend?”
Dennis rolls his eyes, and she smiles at that. “Yeah, I’m okay. I might switch to an insulin pod soon, actually, rather than carrying a pen. But I’m okay with it.”
She nods, "Good, okay. Well, talk to me if you need anything, okay?”
Dana turns and reaches for the door, then stops, her hand on the handle. “One more thing.”
Dennis looks up warily.
“If either of them ever hurts you,” she says evenly, “I will end them. Don’t think that because I’ve known them forever that I won’t do it. I will. I got your back, kid.”
He snorts, startled into laughter. “Duly noted.”
“Now,” she says, “go do your job. And drink some water.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dennis nods as he stands, and she gives his shoulder a gentle rub.
She’s so maternal, so caring in a way that makes Dennis feel a little bit like a little kid again, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders now that he knows she approves.
And that she already knew.
What she thinks matters to him, a lot more than he could ever really tell her. He respects her, more than anyone (he’d say with confidence that she’d tied with Robby and Jack), and her approval feels good.
Really good.
When Robby and Jack pick him up after his shift, there’s a small pile of bags in the trunk. Jack’s battered green duffle, diligently patched up where it’s torn over the years, Robby’s navy rucksack, and then Dennis’. It’s not new, but it’s not the beaten up thing he brought with him.
It’s one of theirs, proper sturdy canvas, with AR embroidered onto it.
He hasn’t dared actually ask, but he’s fairly certain it was part of a set they received as a wedding gift.
He doesn’t really touch that fact, because he’s not sure what to do with it.
Robby’s driving, but he still welcomes a kiss from Dennis when he clambers into the back seats, giving his arm a squeeze.
They ask about his shift as they drive, but it’s not particularly far, and he can tell they’re buzzing about their upcoming trip.
He is too, for their sakes.
They drop him outside Trinity’s building, hazards blinking as he shrugs on his backpack and grabs his duffle.
Jack hops out of the car, pulling Dennis into a solid hug. “Text if you need anything,” he says firmly, and Dennis rolls his eyes.
“I will not. Turn your phones off, you don’t need to deal with anything that happens here.”
Jack sighs, but he kisses Dennis all the same, giving his ass a squeeze, which makes Dennis squirm.
Robby’s a lot more restrained with it, leaning out of the window to kiss Dennis, soft and lingering. “Have fun tonight,” he murmurs. “Be good, Mouse.”
Dennis laughs, cheeks warm. “You two better have an amazing weekend.”
“We will,” Jack promises, already smiling at Robby as he slides back into the passenger’s seat.
Dennis watches them pull away until they’ve turned the corner, before he turns and heads up to Trinity’s apartment.
He still has his keys, because he still actually lives there, despite the fact that he hasn’t actually been there in about a month, and he lets himself in.
Trinity meets him in the hallway in a crop top and jeans, one eyebrow already arched.
“You,” she says flatly. “Are dead to me, Huckleberry.”
Dennis winces. “I know.”
She steps aside to let him through anyway. “You owe me drinks.”
“I know that too.”
They’re at a bar ten minutes later, dimly lit and a little too loud and sticky-floored in a way that feels comfortingly familiar. Trinity orders them cocktails and a tray of shots without asking, and she slides two of them across the table, watching him down them, before she hands him a cocktail and fixes him with a look.
“Alright,” she says. “Start talking.”
Dennis takes a breath. A long one. Then he just… lets it all spill.
He starts with the DKA. Collapsing at work, waking up in a bed confused and scared, and delirious with fever. And then… then the terror of being told he had type one diabetes, the denial, the confusion, the slow, surreal process of learning how to keep himself alive: finger pricks, insulin dosing, carb counting, alarms going off in the middle of the night, managing highs, managing lows.
“It’s a lot,” he admits, voice quieter now. “I’m still figuring it out. Some days I’m fine and some days I feel like my body’s just… sabotaging me. It’s… it's hard, Trin. I’m not good at it yet, I keep just… fucking up.”
Trinity’s expression softens, her anger briefly melting into concern. “Huckleberry,” she says gently. “Jesus.”
He tells her about staying with Jack and Robby, being brought to their place for the first time, realising that they’re married (she judges him heavily for that, apparently she’d figured it out on their first shift). He tells her about waking up in their spare room for the first time, seeing them interact, seeing them as them, for the first time, and how much care they’d taken of him.
So much more than he deserved.
She listens, but it’s clear she’s upset (although he’s not convinced it’s entirely at him anymore) because when he finishes she snaps. “So what? Just because you’re diabetic now you can’t come home? Jack and Robby gotta babysit you? You’re diabetic, not a fucking invalid.”
“No — Trin, it’s not like that, they didn’t want me to be alone at any point over the first few days.”
“So? It’s been nearly a month.”
“Yeah well — it’s been hard, but Trin—“
He leans forwards.
“We’re dating now.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is? You’re just fucking them? That’s why you basically moved out?” She says tersely, and Dennis groans.
“Only for the past week, Trin, they’ve been so good to me, they wouldn’t let me leave, I missed you so much.” He bites his lip, “seriously.”
She gives him an unconvinced look. “Oh so they were holding you hostage?”
Dennis recoils a little, his eyebrows shooting up. “What? No! Obviously not actually, they were just worried and thought I’d be better at looking after myself if I had both of them there too so I wasn’t left alone at any point. Trinity, please. I am sorry, that I've barely seen you. I am. I missed you a lot, and I missed our apartment.”
“My apartment.”
“Fine, your apartment, but I missed it, and I missed you, and the past month has been so crazy and being diabetic actually fucking sucks, and I’m bad at it, and my entire head has been fucked with trying not to die or go back into DKA or have a hypo so bad I just black out and die.” He reaches across the table, taking one of her hands. “I am very sorry, and I am here with you all weekend, and we can get completely fucked up tonight so I can make it up to you.”
She just stares at him, and he sighs, dropping his head defeatedly. “Are you like — legit mad at me?”
“I’m mad you didn’t tell me,” she says immediately. “I guess… I guess given the fact I’m with Yolanda… I guess I’m not mad that you’re apparently living in a medical drama slash romance novel.”
Dennis exhales heavily, shoulders dropping. “I didn’t mean to disappear. Everything just… kept happening. And they needed me. And I needed them. And I didn’t know how to explain it without it sounding insane.”
She turns her hand so she can intertwine her fingers with Dennis’, and she gives his hand a squeeze. “You scared me,” she admits. “You just — collapsed and went into DKA, and spent like a full twenty four hours unconscious and then you basically disappeared and didn’t come home, and I had to find out from Dana that Abbot and Robby had decided you were living with them, and then suddenly all I hear about you is through fucking hospital gossip and the thirty seconds we overlap at work.”
“I’m sorry,” Dennis says, a little miserably. “I really am.”
Trinity studies him for a moment, then sighs. “Okay,” she says. “I forgive you. On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You keep talking to me,” she says firmly. “And you answer my fucking texts.”
Dennis smiles, “Deal.”
Things feel easier then, like it did before everything, and when the second round of drinks arrive, Trinity kicks a boot up onto the rung of his stool, relaxing back into her chair.
“Okay,” she says, her grin sharp, “My turn, briefly, and then I want details about what dating our fucking attendings is like.”
Dennis laughs. “Talk to me.”
She complains about work, about Langdon (they stay away from everything that happened before Pittfest, and the fall out from that), about one of the newest interns who pisses her off to no end.
She tells him about how things are going with Garcia, the date they went on a couple of weeks ago, the fact that she has actually been concerned about Dennis, even though she hasn’t told him outright.
She tells him about how her cousin wants to visit, about the fact the leaking sink still hasn’t been fixed, but the heating finally has, and that she’s considering getting into running, totally not because of Yolanda.
Then she leans forward, eyes bright. “Alright. Your turn. Start with how the hell you ended up dating two attendings who are married — to each other.”
Dennis groans, dropping his head to the table for a second. “When you say it like that —”
“— it is objectively hilarious,” she says. “Talk.”
He straightens, cheeks warm, and starts from the beginning.
She’s well aware of the fact that he’s been in love with Robby — and by extension, Jack — for a while, so he doesn’t have to recap his feelings for them. (For which he is very grateful, because frankly he can’t face the idea of having to look back at his desperate crush before everything).
He tells her about the touching, the difference between Jack and Robby, and then Robby pulling away, and Jack taking his place. He tells her about how confusing and overwhelming it was to want them both so badly it felt like his chest might cave in.
“Aaaaaand then you kissed Robby,” Trinity cuts in, delighted.
“I kissed Robby,” Dennis confirms, burying his face in his hands. “In their kitchen. Just — on a total fucking whim.”
“And you lived?”
“Barely.”
He tells her about Jack walking in, about the conversation, about being invited into their bed and Robby finally touching him again, and then about waking up tangled with Robby in the morning light.
And how everything felt so good.
He tells about how in love the two of them are too, how crazy different it is from work.
“It’s like — insane, they’re so happily married that it kind of doesn’t feel real. They’re on their ten year wedding anniversary right now.”
“Not getting involved in that?”
“I have been with them for like — a week Trin, I’m not touching two decades worth of dating, they can have all the time in the world with each other. God knows they need it.”
She nods, then tilts her head. “So… how do you fit in? What are you to them? Like — a fucktoy or something?”
Dennis swirls his drink. “That’s the weird part. Like — I kind of assumed that’s what they’d want? But I’m their boyfriend, and they don’t… they don’t make me feel like an addition. I’m just… part of it.”
By the time he finally finishes, they’re four cocktails deep, and Trinity is staring at him, chin in her hands.
“You’re in love,” she says simply.
Dennis doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
She smiles at him, something soft and tender, before she kicks him under the table. “I’m really happy for you.”
Dennis clinks his glass against hers, smiling so hard it almost hurts.
By the time they finally stagger back to the apartment, they’ve had more drinks than Dennis can count, and a significant weight has been lifted out of bank account.
He’d insisted on footing their tab, and really Trinity hadn’t argued with that, but Jesus had it been expensive.
She’d stuck with the cocktails, and insisted on shots, and some other pricey bullshit that Dennis had obediently drunk when placed before him, although she had made sure all of his drinks were made sugar free where possible, which he appreciated.
He’s still drunk though.
Very drunk.
When they make it back to the apartment, they bustle about the kitchen getting in the way of each other as they clumsily make dinner, before collapsing down onto the couch with their plates.
Dennis has really missed her, more than he’d even realised.
She interrogates him about his sex life between bites, which he opens up about, face scarlet. She’s seemingly completely unbothered by it though, asking as many questions as she can before he gets too embarrassed to answer any more.
It’s reassuring to know she’s not upset anymore, and even more so that she approves of his relationship, as much as she always used to tease him that it would never happen.
Eventually, they’re too drunk and too tired to commit to the living room anymore, and with great sluggishness, the two drag themselves up off of the couch.
Dennis turns towards his room first, but a hand firmly affixes itself to the back of his shirt before he can take a step.
“You’re staying with me. If you go low in the night I am not having you die in my spare room.” Trinity grumbles, dragging him towards her bedroom, and Dennis doesn’t even try to protest it. He just lets her drag him, beaming the entire way.
They collapse down onto her mattress together, and when she shoves back the covers and waves an arm for him to clamber in next to her, he eagerly accepts, snuggling up against her as she selects a random film.
“You better not fucking move out just yet,” she mumbles, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. “I can tolerate living with you, I don’t wanna fuckin’ find another roommate.”
Dennis preens, his eyelids too heavy to open as the room spins around them. “Mmmh, I’m not leaving. Not yet. But you should spend more time with Robby ‘n Jack… they like you… ‘N I like them.”
She huffs. “No way. That’s weird. You keep them, I’ve got Yoyo.”
He giggles, mashing his face into whatever bit of her is next to his head.
“Shut up, I want you to get to know them out of work. It’d be nice.”
She hums, reaching an arm around to pat his hip.
“Maybe, Huckleberry. Now shut the fuck up.”
“Mmkay.”
“Still talking.”