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Robby wasn’t someone who did romance. He didn’t grow up witnessing the causal displays of affection—no thoughtful notes around the house, no small loving gestures, no fresh cut flowers sitting on the kitchen counter. His lack of traditional household made it difficult to be the picture perfect boyfriend all his long-term relationships expected him to be.
Every time he found himself in a relationship that lasted longer than a couple non-committal fucks, his aversion to lovey-dovey romcom-esque gestures always, without fail turns into an argument.
When he and Janey hit five years together, Robby’s idea of a romantic dinner to celebrate was an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet—Janey thought she was getting proposed to. The resulting argument ended their relationship. The whole experience stopped him from actually trying with anyone else in fear it would blow up in his face, so all his relationships now came with a disclaimer—Michael Robinavitch isn’t good at romance.
He was more than fine with this, until he started dating the cute farm boy who just so happened to work in his ED. With Dennis, he wanted to be romantic—he just didn’t know how.
Jack told him he always gave his wife massages after hard days at work, so Robby found joy in carefully kneading Dennis’ shoulders when he noticed they slumped a little lower than normal.
Dana told him she missed the dedicated time spent with her husband before life got thrown at them. In response, Robby made sure to circle each day they both had an off day in bold red ink. These were the days that they tuned out the world and only focused on each other.
Just as Robby felt like he was getting pretty good at the whole casual romance thing, February rolled around—fucking Valentine’s day. The never ending rush of the emergency department had completely wiped the holiday off his radar. The slow influx of heart-shaped decorations spread across the ER brought him back to reality.
He has the tendency to end whatever casual situation he has with the girl of the month before the holiday rolls around. Having to hear the “what are we?” speech makes his skin crawl. The problem was thankfully him and Dennis were not casual, which means Robby actually needs to participate. God help him.
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
“I don’t know, man. It just still feels so…weird without her here.” Jack laments.
Robby felt the comforting chill pass through his scrubs as he leaned over the rooftop guard rail. Jack was sitting on the concrete beside him, recounting a patient that brought back painful memories.
“She coded five times, dude—I should’ve told her family to let her go, but she just looked so much like her.” He pauses to messily run his hands through his hair.
“This was her favorite time of year, and I don’t know how to not be envious of everyone else without dead wives” he lets out a snort realizing how ridiculous it sounds.
They sit in silence for a beat.
“I’m guessing this would be a bad time to ask for Valentine’s advice. Huh?” Jack playfully kicks at his ankle before standing to press his forearms against the metal bar. “I’m lost, brother.”
“Did you ask the kid what he wanted to do?”
Robby pauses to recall the answer. “....No.”
Jack lets out a brief chuckle.
“Fuck, you really are lost.” He mutters. “You can’t go wrong with the classics, bud—chocolate, flowers, dinner.” He gives his back a few heavy pats before starting towards the door. “Try to not fuck it up this time.” He warns as he jogs down the stairs.
Robby stands in the comforting silence and runs his calloused hands over his face, before turning to face the day ahead of him. It’s clear he had his work cut out for him.
—
One quiet day after work, Robby decides to test the waters after being reminded that Valentine’s day was basically a week away (a very passionate grandma with chronic back pain told him to get shit together). Dennis was currently dancing through the kitchen, periodically throwing ingredients into a pan probably older than him. All Robby was allowed to do was admire him from his place at the kitchen island.
He moves from his seat to tenderly wrap his arms around the boy’s midsection. “So….Valentine’s Day is coming up, huh?” Robby mutters after planting his nose in Dennis’ curls.
“...Uh huh” He stops stirring for a beat to raise a tentative eyebrow before melting into the warmth of the touch. The nervous tapping of Robby’s foot against the tile flooring could be heard over the Chaka Khan playing from his boyfriend’s phone.
“You wanna like…go out to eat or something? I could call Altius and get us a reservation—only if that’s what you want to do of course. We could also go to a nice bar—” Dennis cuts the older man off before he can continue.
“First off, you’re crazy if you think you’re getting that reservation a week out.” Dennis turns out of his arms to face the man with his back pressed against the cold marble. He opens and closes his lips as if he’s trying to pluck the right words out of thin air before starting again.
“...I also kind of already told Ellis I would cover for her—Sorry! I know I should have talked to you first—”
“Oh thank god.” Robby winces and pinches his nose in embarrassment when the words leave his mouth.
Dennis tilts his head in confusion.
He puts his hands up defensively. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that—it's just always a lot of pressure around Valentine’s Day. Feels like I always fuck it up.”
Dennis knew how bad Robby was with relationships—hell, the man is well into his fifties with no prior marriages or kids. It was logical that the holiday dedicated to showcasing your undying commitment to your partner wasn’t necessarily his favorite.
“It has nothing to do with you I promise.” He confirms, rubbing up and down Dennis’ exposed arms in a comforting motion.
The mood on his face lightens. “I’m just glad you’re not mad at me for not valuing our relationship or something.” he lets out a giggle as Robby moves once again to engulf the boy in his hold.
“You sure you don’t wanna plan anything? We could open that wine I've been saving and watch shitty rom-coms.” His words muffled against the skin on Dennis' neck.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Dennis turns his head to catch the man’s lips in a brief kiss. “And don’t get me anything. I already feel bad enough about working a double on our first Valentine’s together.” He declares before breaking away to tend to the already slightly burnt food.
A look of disbelief washes over Robby’s face.
“No gifts? Are you serious?”
“No gifts, Michael.” Dennis, very threateningly, points his wooden spoon at his boyfriend's neck.
“No gifts. For sure” He throws his hands up in defeat before making a mental note to cancel the $400 eko CORE stethoscope he bought the night prior.
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
T-Minus 49 Hours…
As the day grew closer and the heart-shaped decorations multiplied around the hospital, and Robby was dubbed an anomaly amongst his staff. Patients and coworkers alike were scrambling to put together last minute gestures of their affection—most of them begrudgingly. Small talk with patients quickly evolved from, “are you married?” into a more concerned, “You’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Not even dinner?”
If he had a nickel for every woman who told him that she would kill her partner if they were in his shoes, he would be on a yacht in Dubai—not currently treating his third penile fracture.
“Yo, I’m telling you man, you might think she’s cool with not doing anything or spending ya money…”
Robby lets out a low chuckle as his fingers move along the keyboard of the computer. At the moment, he’s getting lectured by a patient, who just had his appendage broken by some rather wild escapades—and the woman responsible.
“...But, it always comes back to bite you in the ass.” The man adjusts his crudely placed frozen peas to turn to his wife in the chair beside him.
“Unfortunately, he’s right. I got mad and told him not to worry about it one year—”
“And she hasn’t let it go since. ‘Dante, remember when you didn’t get me nothing for Valentine’s’” he mimics in a pitchy tone. “ It's been three years and she still brings that shit up. ”
“It’s true. Better to be safe than sorry” The woman chimes in.
Robby can’t help but throw his head back in laughter. As he listened to the couple go back and forth, he began to question his not-so-stellar plans for the next day. It wasn’t until he ran into Trinity Santos in the locker room that the situation became dire.
“Hey, Doctor R.” Robby was opening his locker to gather his things when he noticed his boyfriend’s roommate stroll into the room.
“Hey, Doctor Santos. Any plans for the weekend?” He questions while putting on his backpack, eager to reunite with his favorite resident for the two hours they had together.
“Oh we have plans alright, but I'll save your ears.” He scrunches his face in distaste. Whatever Garcia and Santos do in the bedroom is not something he wants to picture.
“What did ya cook up for you and fuckleberry?” She questions.
“Oh, we actually decided against doing anything out of the ordinary. He told me no gifts and I obliged.” Just as he’s about to start towards the door, Santos snaps her head towards him, eyes wide with concern.
“Well why the fuck not?” She says with tightly crossed arms.
Robby knits his eyebrows together in confusion before attempting to explain himself.
“Uh, Dennis didn’t want anything special I guess." He adds with a shrug, walking towards the exit.
She lets out an unsure sigh. “I mean, I just wouldn’t expect that from him, you know?”
“What do you mean?” He makes a sharp turn on his heels, returning to Trinity’s open locker.
“His ex and his sappy and extremely unnecessary grand gestures every year. He never told you?” The little alarm bell in his brain started to ring. What does she mean by grand gestures?
“Elaborate, Santos.”
Trinity’s lips curled into a slight smirk as she explained the details of Dennis’ college relationship. Robby didn’t know much about Dennis’ previous relationships (he likes it that way), but he did know that his longest relationship was with some bone-head for three years in undergrad. What he didn’t expect was for the guy to be a character ripped straight from The Notebook.
“For Valentine’s Day the dude used to go the whole nine yards—I’m talking candle-lit picnics on the beach, private chef, apartment swimming in rose petals.” she huffs out in amusement.
She leans closer for emphasis. “One year he hired a whole fucking mariachi band.” Panic rushes through his body like a riptide, clouding his mind with insecurities about his relationship. You’re fucked, Robinavitch. Should’ve listened to all the elderly women who reprimanded you.
Trinity watches her attending in silence as he becomes increasingly pale and shoots him a tight lipped smile.
“Uh, well enjoy your weekend Doctor Robby” she says sheepishly before leaving the room.
—
He spends the entire ride home in silence dwelling on how terrible of a partner he is. Was this really what Dennis wanted? After all those years of loud displays of love, he wants to spend the holiday cramped up on Robby’s old ass couch? There’s no way.
He taps on the wheel anxiously while recounting his other underwhelming run-ins with the so-called ‘holiday of love’—all of them ending in disaster.
His college girlfriend slapped him across the face in the middle of the dining hall after he failed to produce the right kind of flowers. He once took a girl he was seeing in med school to an amusement park on the day—he didn’t know she was terrified of heights. He even tried to go all out for Heather by booking a nice trip to Cabo. Just as he thought something finally worked out in his favor, at the airport he realized he booked the flights for the following year.
Robby wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he let this relationship fizzle out like the rest. Dennis wasn’t like the rest, and Robby needed him to know that.
After spending a few brief moments with his boyfriend (including a quickie on the couch) He drops Dennis back off at the hospital to start his double shift. He spends the entire rest of the night in a trance— racking his brain for ways to show Dennis how much he means to him. After a couple hours sitting in the soft glow of his living room television, he reaches an ultimatum—this boy was his lifeline, and he would spend the weekend making him aware of this, or die trying.
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
T-minus 17 hours…
That night, while the rest of the Pittsburgh was asleep, (with the exception of his colleagues) Robby was hard at work hunched over his laptop researching.
What private chefs work in the Pittsburgh area?
Hotels Valentine availability
How much is a custom airplane banner message?
Rationally, the first thing he did was reorder the stethoscope—now with Dennis’ name engraved into the titanium backing. The second thing he did was pay reddit a visit.
r/relationship_advice
u/M0torManMike71
I (54M) want to do something big for my partner (27M) on Valentine’s Day (yes I know it’s extremely last minute)
I’m giving myself a migraine trying to think of something big to do for my partner tomorrow. I didn’t plan anything at first because he has to work tomorrow, but today his friend told me about the annual grand gestures his ex (29M) used to do for him. I can really see myself spending the rest of my life with him, and I want him to know how committed I am. We’ve only been together for around 5 months, but I want to make him feel special.
I’m a doctor, so money isn’t an issue. I just need something that will knock his socks off and one-up his ex-boyfriend.
After about two hours he reopened his post to find a grand total of two replies, both of which making snide comments about their age difference and saying something along the lines of “you don’t need something flashy to show your love for your partner”
Bullshit. Instead of listening to questionable advice from strangers on the internet who clearly don’t understand the gravity of the situation, he presses the checkout button on all $300 worth of valentine’s themed supplies for the following day.
—
He awoke to the violent screeching of his phone alarm and a disappointingly empty bed. He blindly reaches for his reading glasses once he sees a missed message from his favorite resident.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day! I’ll see you after work ;D’
After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he smiles to himself, and shoots him the same message back.
He takes a moment to stare at the small picture gracing his screen—its a silly picture he took of Dennis on one of their dates to the zoo. He feels a warmth run through his body.
As he sits on the edge of the mattress and mentally prepares himself to fight the battles the day had to bring (running errands).
—
His first stop was to the overwhelmingly packed grocery store on his street. He tried desperately to find a private chef available for the night, but predictably, there were none available. Robby was left only with his mid-grade cooking skills and a planned three course dinner.
Was it a tad ambitious—duh, but if he can manage to perform a thoracotomy on a five-hundred pound patient, he could cook a good damn dinner his ego tells him.
After making several other stops to a florist, pastry chef, and professional violinist, (he was fortunately sane enough to decide against the plane) he was almost ready to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but he had one last stop to make.
As he stood in front of the self-service key coping machine, he tried to think of every possible outcome of his manic episode.
- Everything goes as planned, Dennis agrees to move in with him, and they have less than vanilla sex afterwards.
- Things go wrong, but Dennis appreciates the effort—slow, sappy missionary.
- Dennis really did just want a quiet and uneventful evening. They have a heated argument about it, and Dennis leaves him after saying he’s incapable of being a decent partner. Robby quietly overdoses in his townhouse.
He sighs deeply while anxiously playing with the worn strings of his hoodie. Just as the realization that he might be in far too deep hits him, the machine spits out the piece of metal inscribed with the word ‘home’.
He could only pray he would still be able to call Dennis his when the weekend was over.
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
“Whitaker, could ya go check on your patient’s labs—Jesus Christ! Kid, ya look terrible.”
Dennis turns to answer Dana with deeply wrinkled scrubs and eye bags heavier than normal, shakily grasping a cup of coffee from the break room. It’s apparent he’s not used to working double shifts.
“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ll be right on it.” He presses his lips together before turning to treat his, probably millionth, patient in the past 17 hours—he’s lost count. The constant screaming of machines adding on to his dull caffeine induced headache, and Trinity's sarcasm made it even worse.
“Damn, huckleberry. You look…shittier than usual.” Trinity quips from her spot at central.
His shoes let out an embarrassingly loud squeak as he walks towards the voice. “Really nice of you to say knowing I'm putting myself through this for you” He retorts.
“Um, not quite farm boy. Nobody told you to go out and buy the damn helmet—doesn’t Robby already have one anyways?” She exclaims. Dennis roughly sets his fifth coffee cup down on the desk.
“Can you not tell everyone in a three mile radius?” He whispers. “And it’s custom. The guy is coming to drop it off later.”
Trinity had lent him money for his custom made gift for Robby. He feels bad for misleading his boyfriend, but he was honestly tired of the man constantly throwing money at him. Every time they went out Robby insisted he pay for everything. He was never not buying the boy something.
He would never tell Robby, but sometimes it made him feel like a helpless kid, or worse— a sugar baby. Dennis just wanted to be the one to provide for once, even if he had to use Trinity’s money to do so.
“Sorry to do it to you Huck, but I need to take Yolanda out.” She states before continuing with her charting. She was able to get a reservation for an expensive restaurant last minute, leaving Dennis scrambling to quickly repay her.
“Hang in there, kid.” She calls out to him with amusement.
Dennis only shoots her a cold glare before returning to his shift from hell.
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
T-minus 2 hours…
While in a frenzy of light candles, chopping vegetables, and blowing heart-shaped balloons, a dull pain started to creep its way up Robby’s back. The ache was more annoying than anything, so he popped a Tylenol and got back to work on the three separate pans sitting on the stove.
In between frantic stirs of his various dishes, He scatters rose petals throughout the house and in a heart shape on his—hopefully soon, their bed. Realizing he hasn’t emptied his bladder all day, he jogs to the bathroom.
Jesus, he looks awful.
He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and sees a crazed old man looking back at him. His hands run through his disheveled hair as he examines the dark circles and bags that have formed over the course of his…episode. He quickly lifts his arms over his head and recoils at the stench. A quick shower couldn’t hurt.
Before he knows it, a burnt smell reaches the already steam filled bathroom. He throws on the closest pair underwater he can find and frantically runs to the kitchen still dripping wet. He’s met with the screeching of the fire alarm and thick smoke filling the room.
“Well shit, there goes dinner.” He says to himself while waving a kitchen towel through the air. He manages to disperse most of the smoke, but is still left with a blaring fire alarm.
The alarm mocks him from its place on the ceiling—directly over the kitchen island. A lightbulb goes off in his head.
Still dripping wet, Robby decides to climb on top of the island to unscrew the alarm, shutting it up for good. He makes it on top of the cool marble, but needs to bend slightly so his head doesn’t hit the ceiling. The painful twinge in his lower back comes back twice a strong, refusing to be silenced by over-the-counter painkillers.
Then it happens.
After successfully silencing the alarm a stabbing pain crosses the expanse of his back. Robby takes a step back in pain to remove himself from the countertop—he doesn’t see the small puddle of water that had produced underneath him.
In a blink, Robby is watching himself fall in slow motion. He slips backwards off the island and reaches out to catch himself—he fails.
“Fuck! Oh fuck my back.” He yells out against the unforgiving floor. He takes a few minutes groaning in pain before finally mustering up enough courage to stand.
“Shit!” He yelps as his body betrays him. The pain felt as if someone had broken in and stabbed him repeatedly in the back with a rusty knife. Can’t walk…great.
He sighs to himself, racking his brain for solutions. He genuinely toys with the idea of laying defeated on the kitchen floor until Dennis discovers him, but is quickly reminded of the food he salvaged still cooking on the stove.
He gives himself a few moments to lick his wounds before proceeding.
“Hey Siri” His phone lights up from its place across the room.
He lets out one last exacerbated sigh. “.....Call 9-1-1”
─── ❤︎ ⋅───
“Someone put me out of my misery.” Dennis mutters to himself with his head in his hands. He’s supposed to be charting, but his sleep deprived brain is prohibiting him from doing anything productive. His glossed over eyes look up to see Langdon walking towards him.
“Look alive Whitaker, forty minutes left.” The man playfully punches in the shoulder.
“Yay.” he responds, voice void of emotion.
“Come with me, we got an ambulance two minutes out.” Langdon gestures with his head.
Dennis had thought the universe threw him a bone in the last hour of his shift. He would never say it out loud, but it was quiet. Peaceful even. As he starts towards the ambulance bay he’s reminded that the universe was not on his side.
“Fifty-four year old Caucasian male. Slipped approximately three feet from a kitchen island onto tile flooring. The patient reports acute lower back pain and right wrist pain.” The mustached EMT discloses.
“My one and only request was that you don’t bring me to PTMC.” The EMT only shrugs him off.
Dennis thinks he’s hallucinating when he hears the voice of his attending/boyfriend ringing out from the back of the ambulance. Sure enough, when he turns the corner he sees the man being rolled into the hospital on a gurney.
It's a sight he’s seen before many times in his nightmares. Robby is always dead or dying being wheeled into the ED, bloody and beaten. The color drained itself from his face when he realized he was, in fact, awake.
“Couldn’t stay away on your day off, huh?” Langdon jokes.
“You’re an asshole.” Robby retorts from his place on the gurney.
“Aw, we missed you too, old man.” Langdon looks back to see Dennis, looking like a deer in headlights, still standing in the same place as before.
“Whitaker, what are you doing? Get over here.” The man waves him over with a confused look.
Robby instinctively scrunches his body, hoping that if he could make himself small enough, he could somehow save himself the embarrassment and disappear from this whole situation—it’s not working. Dana was cackling and taking pictures from across the room to spread in the various hospital group chats. It genuinely could not get much worse than this.
Dennis finally reaches his boyfriend in a panicked daze. “Oh my god. Robby, are you okay? What happened?” Dennis frantically scans the man’s body for any life threatening injuries and finds comfort in seeing there were none.
“It’s a long ass story, kid.” While the circumstances were terrible, Robby could admit that seeing his boyfriend’s tired eyes made him feel a whole lot better. Would it be bad to say he looks cute when he’s scared?
Dennis takes a quick glance around the room before turning to pull Langdon to the side.
“Listen, Doctor Langdon…” he pauses to clear his throat before lowering his voice to a whisper. “I can’t treat Doctor Robby.”
“Dude, if we all followed that rule the man would be screwed.” He snorts.
Dennis anxiously bites the inside of his lip, debating if he really wants Langdon to know about their relationship.
He signs before continuing. “You don’t get it. Me and Doctor Robby have been…..seeing each other.” He visibility cringes as the words escape his mouth.
Langdon looks back at him with wide eyes, lips parting in shock.
“Oh…wow.” He scratches the crown of his head.
“Please do not tell anyone else.” Dennis pleads.
“I have a million and one questions, but out of respect, I will not ask them.” Langdon rubs his neck before returning to treat his boss.
No one in the hospital, with the exceptions of Jack and Trinity, knew about their relationship. They knew the optics weren’t the best and that Robby had gained somewhat of a…reputation around the hospital. One day they would scream about their love for each other from the rooftops, however, that day was far in the future. Out of all the people he could have told, Langdon was pretty trustworthy. After all it could’ve been worse; Princess and Perlah could've found out. He shivers at the thought.
—
The last thirty minutes of Dennis’ shift were pure torture. He wanted so badly to be the one in his room monitoring his vitals, but that’s not something that people who aren’t sleeping with their boss tend to do.
So he sat there for what felt like hours, charting away his worries.
The minute the clock hit 8:00 PM, he basically teleported to the room holding his injured attending. He pulls the curtain back to find the hospital gown-clad man, leisurely sipping a pouch of apple juice.
“‘I’m in the x-ray line for my wrist, but I’m pretty sure it's a Non-displaced fracture.” He says slurping for punctuation.
“The back is an Acute lumbar disc herniation. I’m gonna live Doc, don’t worry.” He jokes.
Dennis swiftly moves to sit in the chair next to the bed.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. When I saw you on that gurney I just...I’m happy you’re okay.” He says with a quiet shake in his voice.
Robby moves his good hand to intertwine their fingers, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into the boy’s skin.
“Didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Robby shoots him an apologetic smile after seeing the tears collect in the corner of Dennis' eyes.
They sit in a comfortable silence before Dennis breaks it.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” The corners of his lips begin to lift.
“It was really stupid.” He kicks himself in remembrance. “Santos told me about the things your college boyfriend used to do for Valentine’s Day, and I just felt like you deserved more than movies and okay wine. I forgot about the food I was cooking and climbed on the island to take the batteries out of the alarm.”
“Oh god.” Dennis pinches the bridge of his nose and squints in disappointment. In a few years he was going to be as gray as his boyfriend.
“Back went out and I slipped on some water trying to get down. You know the rest…” He trails off.
Dennis shakes his head with a soft smile.
“Robby, I don’t need some extravagant gesture to know you love me.” Robby gazes into Dennis’ piercing eyes with a sad smile.
“If Trin told you the whole story you would know I hated it every single year.” He corrects.
Robby throws his head back in annoyance and Dennis cackles in the background.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Robby can only shake his head in disbelief. Dennis fills him in on the day he’s had before remembering the gift hastily shoved in his locker.
“Oh, now that you’re here I got you something.” The chair scoots out with a quiet squeak. Before heading out the door, a strong arm pulls him back.
“You’re kidding. I thought you said no gifts?” Robby’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Yeah I did…sorry.” he says while rubbing the back of his neck with guilt. “It’s just…you’re always the one spending money on me, and I wanted to be able to spoil you for once.”
“You’re a little shit, you know that?” He says with a snort. Dennis only shrugs him off before pulling back the curtain.
After a few minutes he returns holding something behind his back.
“I had someone drop it off at work, so it’s not wrapped, but…” He reveals a sleek black motorcycle helmet with hand-painted illustrations covering the surface.
“...I hope you like it.” He clasps his hands together, examining Robby’s expression in anticipation.
Robby runs his fingers along the entire surface of the helmet. Upon closer inspection the subtle illustrations matched the woodland creatures covering the walls of pedes. Before he could notice, a tear landed on the surface of the helmet.
“Den, this is…fuck, thank you.” Dennis moves to wipe the tears away from the wrinkled corners of his eyes.
“Read the inside.”
Robby flips the helmet to find a message inscribed around the perimeter.
‘you save everyone else, please save yourself. I need you here captain. - ❤︎ D’
Dennis yelps as he’s pulled down into a wet kiss.
“Sweetheart, words can’t describe how much I love you” Robby gushes.
“I uh, also kinda got you something. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I couldn’t help it.” Dennis playfully rolls his eyes.
“I…got you a key to my house” Robby decides to keep quiet on the stethoscope until further notice.
“Why? I already have your spare” Dennis laughs.
“I’m asking you to move in with me, Den.” Robby blurts out.
“I want you there in the morning while I make breakfast. I want to hold you when I fall asleep. I want your things taking up space in my closet. I want to hear you singing chaka khan in the shower.” He rambles while Dennis looks at him with a hard to read expression.
“As cliche as it sounds, you make my house feel like a home.”
“I…uh…are you sure?” Dennis stutters.
“I’ve never been more sure.” Robby softly grabs the boy’s chin and pulls him in for another kiss, their lips expressing all the words left unsaid.
Robby pulls back to rest his forehead against Dennis’.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby”
“I love you.” Dennis gushes.
Robby takes a couple minutes to go into detail about his antics in the past twenty-four hours, Dennis laughing in disbelief. For some reason he feels like he’s missing something. The firefighters turned off the burners, and blew out the candles. He turned off the oven earlier, so what was it that was keeping him on alert.
“Oh shit, I forgot to cancel the violinist.” He blurts with wide eyes.
“Violinist?” Dennis questions.
Robby could only hope and pray that one year, he would finally have a normal Valentine’s day, because this year was the furthest possible thing from it.