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“Help,” Dennis whispered, snaking an arm through Trinity’s elbow and urging her to shuffle off into a mostly deserted hallway. Subdued alarm painted her face as she followed him, allowing herself to be moved away from the chaos of the hub.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She leaned in, brows furrowed, and raised the back of her hand to lay against his forehead.
He wrenched his neck back and shoved her hand away which made her force both of his hands down by his side with only one of hers while she resumed checking his temperature.
“Nothing— everything. I don't know,” he whined, mentally chastising himself for sounding every bit like the baby he felt like.
“Speak,” she ordered, hands leaving his face to grab him by the shoulders and shake, ever impatient.
“Do you know a Dr. Park?”
“Park the Shark? Of course, he’s infamous in the surgical department.”
“Well, I just met him five minutes ago,” he began and Trinity interrupted with a sigh before he could finish
“Dude, don’t stress. He’s a dick to literally everyone,” she said, releasing him and looking back at the crowded bay, clearly eager to return to her patients. “I thought you were, like, dying or something.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, tilting his head to catch her gaze again.
She pursed her lips and looked back at him, raising her own brows expectantly. Affording him a pointed silence, she finally gave him her full attention once more.
“I just met him five minutes ago and he asked me out for drinks. Tonight.”
Her jaw dropped, “Shut the fuck up. Wait, He’s gay?”
“Trinity,” he groaned.
“Sorry, sorry—” she shook her head, collecting herself, “who, what, when, where and why?! What did you say?”
“He didn’t really give me a chance to turn him down,” Dennis mumbled, raking his hands down his cheeks, “It happened so fast. He was all, ‘You get off at seven, right? I’ll be in the fancy car out front— be there or be square.’”
“He did not say be there or be square,’” she said.
“Well, no, but he might as well have!”
There was a pause as Dennis despaired internally. Trinity sucked at her teeth.
“You know… if you two become a thing you should put in a good word for me,” she suppressed a grin.
He withered a glare at her.
“Kidding, kidding!” Trinity held her hands up in a gesture of surrender before crossing her arms again. “How are you feeling about this? You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you’re uncomfortable, or whatever, I’d help you file a report. God knows I’m already the local pariah around here for what went down with Langdon. I’m pretty sure if I tank two more careers I win a prize.”
He sighed, all of the ire leaving his body, replaced with a swell of fondness for his most unlikely friend.
“I don't know. He’s not really my type and he's a little mean. Actually, that was too kind, he is mean. He said I looked Amish,” he said.
Trinity snorted, “I mean—”
He held out a hand to stop her, “I’m growing out the haircut. You know this.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say I mean it sounds like you’ve got it figured out already. Sounds like you don't like the guy so,” she shrugged, “don’t go.”
Dennis looked away, “He is kind of handsome, though.”
“Sure. In a take your lunch money and shove you in a locker kind of way.”
He sighed. He kind of hated when she was right and unfortunately for him she was often so.
“Maybe I’ll just go and see what happens,” he finally said, face hot.
“Poor Amy. She’s going to be so heartbroken. Does this mean you’re not going to ditch me to play family on the farm anymore?”
“Oh my god. There is nothing going on between me and Amy!” He exclaimed. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Bet she doesn’t see it that way,” she stuck out her tongue at him. “She’s been watching you lift hay bales through her giant bay windows and making you sweet tea and shit. She definitely thinks you two are a thing. Or will be in the near future.”
“I told you before, her husband did a lot of physical labor and now that he’s gone the work is piling up. She needs to focus on taking care of Ava.”
“And you,” she poked him hard on the chest, “need to focus on your career. Are you going to be a doctor one day or Old Macdonald?”
“How did this turn into a lecture about Amy?” He whined.
“Oh, fuck, you're right, I forgot. Let’s go back to talking about Park the Shark who’s picking you up for a date tonight,” she raised her brows at him, daring him, as she began walking backwards away from him to the hub where they both definitely had jobs to do.
“We could talk about you and Garcia instead,” he called.
“Don’t forget to wear protection!” She yelled back.
A passing Nurse side eyed them both as she scurried away, throwing an offended look at him over her shoulder.
“She’s talking about PPE,” he reassured, cracking a smile he was sure was not very convincing at her as she fled.
*
Seven came entirely too fast for Dennis’s liking.
He stared at himself in his locker mirror one last time mustering up as much courage as he possibly could. He was still clad in the scrubs he had worn all day long which didn’t feel the best but he figured they’d be fine considering they were what he was asked out in to begin with. He noted the bags under his eyes, only slightly less deep than when he first started his ED rotation and the hair beginning to curl over his ears.
Dennis had never been particularly insecure about his looks but he also didn’t feel particularly attractive at the current moment. He wondered what about him Park had found so interesting. Hiking his bag further on his shoulder he closed his locker with a loud clang.
”Hey, heading out?” A voice came from behind, startling him. He turned to see Dr. Robby striding into the room, sidling up to his own locker to fiddle with the combination.
“Yeah,” Dennis huffed, “Long day.”
Dr. Robby smiled at him sympathetically, the crows feet around his eyes crinkling wonderfully.
“Oh, they all are. You’ll get used to it eventually. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask— how’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine?” He said, straightening up when Dr. Robby gave him a pointed look. “I mean I’m fine.”
It was a work in progress.
“You sure? That partial amputation had you looking a little queasy,” he said, finally opening his locker and grabbing a backpack from within. It was a hiking one with lots of straps and compartments, something an older man would definitely carry around.
“Oh, no! I’ve seen some nasty injuries in the past, I wasn’t bothered by that. It was more, um, the emotional side of it.”
“Yeah? If you ever want to talk…” he trailed off, looking a little uncertain, eyes flicking from his bag to Dennis and back again.
He had never struck Dennis as a man who would want to talk about anything emotional ever. He suspected that if he never found the man in the throes of a breakdown in the pediatric wing on his first day then Dennis would have never gained any insight into Dr. Robby’s inner workings.
Dennis grew up with men like that. Ones who kept working through every struggle they encountered like machines infallible to breaking down and falling into disrepair. Some days he thought that the only difference between them and Dr. Robby was the softness, rationed to very few, that he caught rare glimpses of. Gentleness of that kind wasn’t much appreciated back home when it came to the male sex especially when afforded to another of the same gender.
“I’m really fine, I promise. Just a little hiccup, won’t happen again,” he bowed his head, an uncomfortable smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“If you say so,” Dr. Robby nodded, shrugging on a jacket and zipping it up. “Oh, and sorry about throwing you to the surgical department. I know they can be a little brash but they’re all bark and no bite. You’ll forgive me, right?”
Dennis’s smile morphed into a more genuine one at the smile teasing the corner of Dr. Robby’s own lips, “Already done. Besides, I’m tough. I can handle it.”
The other man chuckled and with a parting nod Dennis made to leave the room only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Woah, hey, without a jacket? It’s freezing outside,” Dr. Robby chastised.
“Forgot it at home but like I said— I’m tough,” he shrugged.
Dr. Robby tilted his head indulgently like he had reservations about that statement when applied to roughing the weather but none strong enough to voice outloud. Staying his tongue, he let go of Dennis to reach into his locker and, like a magician, produced a second jacket from the depths.
“Take my spare,” he said, holding out the fabric.
Dennis blinked at it, his heart thudding in his chest.
It was a quarter zip. Thick and vaguely outdoorsy with an expensive looking logo stitched above a chest pocket and light gray like the stray hairs in Dr. Robby’s beard. So incredibly different from the brown hoodie he picked up for cheap at that random church rummage sale he stumbled across almost a year ago now.
He should refuse— extend his thanks but turn him down and make a joke about Nebraskan winters which really were particularly harsh and unforgiving. The temperatures in Pittsburgh were nothing compared to the negative tens that swept across the plains in late February when everyone was getting sore about being cooped up in the house together for months.
“Are you sure?” Dennis asked, instead, hoping God wasn’t watching.
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn't," he said.
Glancing at the other man’s face, he reached out to take a hold of the jacket, clutching it to his chest. It felt just as warm as it looked.
“Thank you, Dr. Robby. I’ll have it back to you first thing in the morning,” he fought to keep the tremble from his voice.
“No rush. Have a good night, Whitaker.” And with that he closed his locker and left with a careless hand thrown over his shoulder, waving goodbye.
“Yeah, you too,” Dennis mumbled to the empty room.
*
Just like Dr. Park said there was a sleek black Audi A6 ominously parked in front of the entrance to the emergency department waiting for him. Dennis felt his stomach churn and he couldn’t quite parse whether it was anticipation or anxiety.
Sure, the older man was handsome in an objective kind of way. Dennis wasn’t blind. Dr. Park possessed a strong jaw and prominent nose that boasted a classic masculine image. He was also broad and muscled but not overly so as to make him look completely obnoxious. He would’ve been highly sought after by every girl in town back home.
Dennis thought that he could be attracted to him if they had met under any other circumstances and not in a dim hallway at the hospital.
There was also the issue of his personality. Dennis had maybe spoken a handful of words to the other man but their interactions proved to be… strange. He had been flirted with a few times in the past, definitely not any more than he could count on one hand but it had happened, and not a single person had ever done so the way Dr. Park did. It reminded him of something like when boys pulled pigtails on the playground. Dennis never had pigtails to pull. He was used to the soft, blushing looks from the few girls who had crushes on him and the silent appraising looks from boys who were trying to figure out if his interests aligned with theirs.
He approached the car, attempting to peek through the windshield but found that the tint was too dark. He wondered not for the first time in the last few minutes why he was even doing this.
Before he could decide whether to rap his knuckles on the window or just tug on the handle and see what happened, he heard the telltale sound of the car unlocking and the passenger door was pushed open a few inches.
A clear invitation. He tugged on the handle and slid inside.
The heat sank into his bones immediately and the sleek interior of Park’s car felt obscenely luxurious under Dennis’ fingertips, softer than any man had the right to experience. Almost blasphemous in its indulgence. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree composed of high tech screens and buttons.
“Hey, MS4. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” Dr. Park said from the driver’s seat, preoccupied with adjusting something on the gigantic screen that took up most of the dashboard.
Before it met its inevitable end Dennis drove his dented dark blue ‘00 Chevy Blazer all the way across the United States and before that he was no stranger to the dusty interiors of various old farm trucks. He trusted his dad when he said that American cars were the only ones you could rely on so when he saw old Blue parked in a neighbors field facing the highway for less than three grand he jumped at the offer. He came to find out that he really shouldn’t have trusted his dad.
Aside from the myriad of internal issues, there were tears in the ceiling and the cloth seats weren’t the most comfortable when he had to start sleeping on them after being booted from his housing situation but it got him from point a to point b and was a dry place to sleep. This car was the antithesis of old Blue. Dennis felt awkward even sitting in it.
“Against my better judgment I thought I’d give you a chance to redeem yourself,” Dennis said, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. Dr. Robby’s jacket was loose on him and warm and still smelled faintly like the other man’s cologne. Something fresh and masculine with woodsy notes— something like a rainy day. He had to stop himself from inhaling deeply every couple of seconds to get another whiff of it.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he tapped one last time and the blasting heat that had greeted him settled into a pleasant light blow and the beginning notes of a song Dennis had never heard before bled from the speakers. He eased away from the curb and joined traffic.
Dennis clutched his hands in his lap, unsure of what to say, still catching hints of Dr. Robby’s cologne through the black ice air freshener that had to be hiding somewhere in Dr. Park’s car. The other man didn’t give any indication that he wished to initiate conversation yet, head bobbing to the tune on the radio, looking lazily through the windshield.
He pulled the car up to a bar sandwiched between two brick buildings, effortlessly parallel parking which Dennis was mildly jealous about. Climbing out of the car they made their way over to the front door which was clearly lit with warm toned string lights, their footsteps echoing on the pavement. Dennis was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Park opened the door and held it open for him, lifting his arm for Dennis to walk under. He followed in after, nodding to the bar.
Dennis wasn’t even sure where he was expecting to be taken. Images of a dark alley or BDSM club had flitted through his mind throughout his shift but he found that it was surprisingly cozy and inviting. The place was old in the way that so many buildings were on the east coast but still functional with modernizations present throughout. One such update was a flat screen above the shelf lined with liquor bottles playing short clips of people falling over and failing in other various ways.
Dr. Park signaled the bartender with two fingers. Dennis nodded when the other man asked if a beer would do. He flashed a smile at him when he slid over his card to open a tab. Dennis didn’t know exactly what that specific card meant because up until a few weeks ago he was squatting in the unused wing of the hospital which meant he had not even a penny to his name but it was thick and silver which probably meant that Park was loaded. As if the career and car didn’t imply exactly that.
Dennis was unimpressed.
“Just so you know this isn’t a date. This is just post shift drinks between colleagues,” Dennis said, folding his arms on the bar, his opened beer untouched in front of him, sweating condensation.
Dr. Park snorted around the mouth of his own bottle, “We aren't colleagues. You are a student.”
“Then in that case this sounds more reportable by the minute,” Dennis squinted at him.
“Colleagues it is, then,” he said, reaching over to tap his bottle against Dennis’s in a mockery of a toast.
“I also haven’t decided if I like you yet, Dr. Park. As a person, I mean. Let alone in the other sense.”
He peered at Dennis over his bottle, eyes roaming over his face before sighing, his shoulders dropping a fraction.
“Look,” he started, peering up at Dennis through his lashes. “I know I can be abrasive. I’m sorry if I came off as rude earlier today. I can’t help it, I get nervous around hot guys.”
Dennis snorted, “That felt disingenuous.”
Finally reaching for his bottle he willed his cheeks to remain neutral. He was a man of substance, God damnit. Cheap charms would not work on him.
“Only a little. I’m not sorry for who I am. I do think you’re hot, though.”
Dennis took a long pull from his beer.
“And you’re funny, too. I like that,” Park said, as though it was an afterthought.
“And you are a flatterer, Dr. Park. Do I look like a piece of toast?”
“Because I’m… buttering you up?,” he asked incredulously. “Jesus Christ. So, not Amish, but definitely homeschooled, right?”
“I went to public school!”
There was a pointed pause filled with the distant clink of bottles and idle conversation from other patrons as Dr. Park stared at him, entirely unconvinced.
“… in Nebraska.”
“Well, there you go.”
Dennis sighed, regretting his decision to give the man a chance already, “Ok, Let’s make fun of you for a bit. Why do they call you Park the Shark? Is it the beady eyes?”
Park laughed, clearly unoffended, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”
His eyes flicked from the screen in front of them and then back to Dennis, eyes appraising. A disquieted air fell upon them.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I, Doctor?” He said and it sounded weaker than he intended, already regretting his rude comment. Dennis decided he wasn’t very good at this whole back and forth.
“Oh come on, we’re in a bar after hours. Call me Brendon,” the other man bumped Dennis’s shoulder with his own.
“We’ll see.”
“I’ll tell you the story if you call me by my first name,” he wagered.
“So, there is a story?” Dennis asked curiously. He was a little surprised the nickname didn’t just come from his looks— his broad body, dark eyes, and white teeth were extremely shark-like.
The other man hummed, nodding in the affirmative before falling silent, gazing at him expectantly, awaiting compliance. Dennis sighed and gave in. He had been doing both a lot lately.
“Fine, Brendon, why do they call you Park the Shark?” He asked again, a modicum of poorly concealed irritation bleeding into his tone. He was learning that nothing was ever easy or straightforward when it came to the doctor.
“Why, Dennis, I’d be happy to tell you,” he said, mildly amused.
He also noticed that the other man didn’t smile so much as there was the hint of one that played at the corner of his mouth when something amused him. He had yet to see an outright shock of the perfect white teeth Dennis noticed behind his lips when he spoke but the potential for it. Something that begged others to chase after it. He idly wondered who had succeeded in the past.
“When I lived in Florida— in a small beach town near Orlando— there was a level one trauma patient who was life-flighted to the hospital I worked at at the time. She was missing most of her right leg, the left mangled beyond repair, and presented with what seemed like a million lacerations and puncture wounds across the upper half of her body. She had been scuba diving, got caught in a school of fish, and was mistaken for one.”
Brendon took another long pull from his bottle, emptying it completely. Dennis’s own sat forgotten in front of him once more as he sat listening, suddenly wildly intrigued.
“A shark attack,” Dennis guessed. Brendon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of beer.
“Nineteen hours in the OR resulted in an emergency hemicorporectomy. Along with fixing all of the other damage done by the shark bites. I was finding teeth in places you couldn’t even imagine. There was an article written about it in JAMA if you want to read about it sometime.”
“Did she make it?” Dennis asked.
The rate of survival for a procedure as extensive as that would have had an almost microscopic margin. It would have been an incredible feat of medicine if so. Something perfectly impressive to woo a first date with especially if they were also in the medical field.
“Sure did.”
His jaw dropped, brows lifting ever so slightly. It worked.
“And so—”
“And so, Park the Shark. I don’t even think anyone at PTMC really knows the reason why,” he murmured, staring into his bottle, eyes glazed.
Dennis had seen that look on many faces since his time in The Pitt. The case clearly had a significant impact on the other man.
“That’s amazing,” Dennis said gently, leaning over to recapture his attention.
“Yeah, I know,” he said plainly, glancing at Dennis briefly before shaking his head as if to dislodge the memory from his brain. He leaned over and reached for Dennis’ drink, picking it up and swirling it to gauge its fullness. With the flick of his fingers the bartender was summoned and with an affirmative nod from Brendon, another two beers were slid across the counter.
“Is that where you’re from? Florida?” He asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Born and raised.”
“How did you end up in Pennsylvania of all places?” Dennis wondered. As if he had any room to talk considering the lengths he traveled to be there.
“Long story. And a boring one at that. Tell me something about yourself other than Nebraska,” Brendon said, his voice dripping with barely disguised disdain.
“There is not much to tell. You guessed correctly, not much happens back home,” Dennis looked down and peeled at the label on his first drink, the second one sweating next to his elbow. “Sorry to disappoint."
“You haven’t just yet but the night is still young,” Brendon shrugged, “come on, talk.”
“The night is not young, it’s almost ten,” he huffed, ignoring the barb to check his phone briefly for the time.
Twelve messages from Trinity sat unopened on his notification list, grouped together, meaning he could only see the last one which was simply the emoji with its eyes closed and tongue sticking out. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Oh, my bad. Did you have a bedtime, Denny?” Brendon pouted at him patronizingly.
“I have a twelve hour shift in the morning is what I have,” he said, sliding it back into his pocket, “and do not start with that, it’s not cute.”
“Fuck me, I guess,” Brendon grumbled. “You’re impossible to flirt with, you know that?”
“Me?! You are a bad flirter-er!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the other man’s entire person.
“No, that can’t be true solely based on my highly successful track record,” he smirked, chest puffing up, making him look bigger than he already was.
“So you do this all the time, huh? Pick up unsuspecting med students?” Dennis asked, leaning an arm on the table to face him, brows raised, waiting for his retort.
He saw Brendon freeze, realizing he was backed into a corner, and Dennis laughed delightfully at him. It was a nice role reversal to not be the one left feeling wrong footed.
“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “you’re not going to believe me but I really don’t usually do this. You guys are kind of invisible to me.”
“That doesn’t make you sound any better or more appealing to me,” Dennis said. He finally polished off his first beer with the last lukewarm mouthful.
“Yeah, well. You came out tonight which means I still got it,” he mumbled into his bottle.
Dennis smiled as he watched the disgruntled expression on the other man’s face. The warm lights played off his features as he took a drink. He really wasn’t a bad looking guy, Dennis thought.
On the television a child was hitting a man, most likely his father, in the shins with a baseball bat, the point of impact replaying cornily as he bent down to clutch his leg. A list of diagnoses ran through his head from bone bruising to fractures and then soft tissue injuries and basic traumas. The bartender started leisurely working a rag over the counter a couple of seats down.
“I grew up on a farm,” he said suddenly, surprising himself, “in a town with a population less than four thousand. When I told my family I was going to leave home to pursue medicine they were less than supportive. I was put out and haven’t really talked to any of them since.”
Brendon stared at him for a moment after he fell silent, eyes flitting around his face. Dennis wasn’t sure why he was telling Brendon about his history. Whether it was the half a beer, the low lighting, or the surreality of the situation, he couldn’t put a finger on the exact reason. Maybe it was just nice to tell someone who didn’t have a real vested interest in his wellbeing. Maybe he was also learning that Brendon Park wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
“What kind of parents would be against their kid wanting to become a doctor,” he asked, clearly confused.
Dennis shrugged, “The really religious kind.”
“Ah.”
“Sorry it’s not a fun story but you asked so…” Dennis trailed off awkwardly.
Brendon blinked at him, stoic as ever, but there was something softer about his gaze than before.
“As far as sob stories go it’s pretty mild,” Dennis laughed, a thin uncomfortable sound, “and now I’ve got people in Pittsburgh that support me.”
He thought of Trinity first, her brash nature always at odds with her kind heart— one of the kindest he’d ever bore witness to. More so than any church goer he knew back home and even those a part of the congregation. He tried to tell her once just how important she had become to him and all that got him was a flaming hot Cheetoh launched at his face.
He also briefly thought of Nurse Dana with her watchful eyes, keeping him in check as he bounced around the emergency department.
Unbidden, Dennis also thought of Dr. Robby. The man whose jacket was still wrapped around his chest, keeping him warm while he was on this freak date with the most intimidating surgeon in the entire hospital.
“Yeah? Is anyone going to give me the shovel talk?” Brendon bumped his shoulder again, smiling genially.
Dennis chuckled, “Oh god, no. My friend, Dr. Santos, is more likely to buddy up to you than anything else and I don’t think Dr. Robby would ever—”
The words caught in his throat, like a child who accidentally admitted guilt to something bad they’d done. He hadn’t meant to bring up Dr. Robby.
“Robinavitch? You guys close?” The other man asked, brow furrowed. Dennis caught the mild surprise hidden in his fixed expression.
“No, no. I mean, not particularly. He’s just been very helpful during my time in the emergency department,” he nodded as he spoke, unsure of who he was trying to convince. It was the truth, he wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel that way.
Brendon hummed.
“That’s good to hear. Everyone deserves someone in their corner,” he tapped Dennis’s second bottle with his own. “Finish that.”
Dennis shot him a look but grabbed the second bottle, cradling it in his hands, not yet committing to taking a drink from it yet.
“I was raised atheist so I’ll admit that I don’t have a whole lot of experience with that stuff,” he said, casually continuing the conversation.
“I wonder what that was like. Must’ve been nice.” He sighed whistfully.
His parents would’ve thought Brendon was the devil incarnate. Gay proclivities, atheistic beliefs, and worst of all rude— a triple threat. He tried to imagine bringing him home to meet them but the image was so absurd he had to suppress a giggle.
“It wasn’t anything, it just was. Do you still believe? It doesn’t sound like you do,” Brendon said, unaware of Dennis’ train of thought.
He squirmed in his seat, “Isn’t it, like, a faux pas or whatever to talk about religion on a first date?”
“Who gives a fuck? We’re both adults—,” he looked Dennis up and down, “—mostly. We can talk about anything we want to. But if you prefer not to, that’s fine as well. It’s no sweat off my back.”
“I am twenty six years old which means I’m closer to thirty than eighteen, thank you. How old are you, by the way?” Dennis squinted at him.
“I guess that means you don’t want to talk about it?” Brendon gave him a wry look.
Dennis blinked innocently at him.
“I am freshly forty,” Brendon sighed as he rested his head on the back of his fist. It was older than Dennis expected.
“You look good for forty,” he said automatically and kicked himself for it. Brendon smirked, the corner of his mouth slightly smooshed where his fist was pushing against it.
“You think so?” He purred, eyes darkening. Dennis completely understood how his namesake traveled between hospitals despite the origin story staying under wraps. He looked every bit like a shark that sensed blood in the water.
“Yup.”
Dennis took a long pull from his beer, downing nearly half of it as Brendon watched him in a state of pure amusement. Dennis had accidentally given an inch and he was certain that the other man would take a mile.
He leaned in close to whisper in Dennis’s ear, low and gravely.
“I think you would look good between my sheets.”
It was a horrible line that should have had zero I effect on him. Dennis inhaled a shaky breath, willing the swell of anxiety and anticipation that swooped in his gut to settle. He turned his head slightly so their faces were an inch apart, breath mingling in the scant air between them.
It would be so easy to give in, to bridge the gap. There was a part of Dennis that he usually pushed down that wanted so badly to know what it felt like to be touched by someone who wanted him unabashedly. No more ambiguous shoulder squeezes and borrowed jackets that kept him strung along and hoping for an impossible outcome but the intentional guarantee of lips pressed against his own.
“You think I’m that easy?” He whispered back.
An unwelcome excerpt came to the forefront of his mind: Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.
Dennis could think of a few other things he wouldn’t mind against his own body.
Brendon breathed a laugh that tickled Dennis’s neck, “No. But lucky for me, I like a challenge.”
And with that he leaned back leaving Dennis shaken and panting, perched on his stool.
“It’s late, I should get you home. Wouldn’t want to mess with your education.”
Dennis bristled for a moment before he realized he was being teased. There was a game to be played, one he hadn’t even realized he was playing, and Brendon was still a couple of moves ahead of him. Dennis had never been good at mindgames, always too earnest to go toe to toe in battles of barbs and strategic moves. He was uncomplicated. Brendon was becoming more so.
He also had never hooked up with anyone on a first date and was just a little touched that Brendon seemed to have noticed that and backed off for the time being.
He inhaled, collecting himself once more.
Dennis nodded, “I’m ready when you are.”
The other man called the bartender back over and settled the tab. He didn't touch Dennis once as they exited the building and climbed back into his stupidly lavish car, abstaining on the car ride home that was filled with a silence that grew more amiable over time and more music that he had never heard before but found that he kind of enjoyed the sound of.
*
“So, did you decide yet?” Brendon asked when they pulled up to his apartment, shifting the car into park.
At Dennis’s confused look he continued.
“If you like me as a person. Did you decide yet?”
Ah, that. He studied the other man for a brief moment.
“Yes, I have,” Dennis replied enigmatically.
Brendon nodded slowly, encouraging Dennis to keep going but he remained silent. Like he had hoped, the other man folded almost immediately.
“And, uh, in the other sense? Did you make up your mind about that too?”
Dennis hummed, “Yeah, I think so.”
“Do I get a copy of those reports?” He joked but his hands were clutching the steering wheel, eyes trained on Dennis. The confident, larger-than-life man back at the hospital was but a distant memory and Dennis found that he liked this new man.
“No,” he said and Brendon frowned grumpily at him, making Dennis laugh at the childish display. “You can get a second date though. Give me your phone.”
The other man’s brows raised with an expression of mild shock, his lips parting subtly, like he expected the opposite response. Dennis held out his hand and waited for Brendon to scramble with his scrub pants pocket, pulling his phone free, unlocking it, and depositing it into his open palm. He added his phone number as a new contact listing his name simply as only Dennis, no last name.
Their fingers brushed as he handed it back, Brendon’s thick hands were surprisingly soft against his own and Dennis marveled at the dusting of dark hair across the backs of them.
“Text me sometime,” he said before climbing out of the car and walking as casually as he could up the stairs to his front door. Before he turned to lock it behind him he was pleasantly surprised to see the black Audi still parked on the curb, waiting patiently for him to fully get inside. As soon as the door clicked shut he heard the steady purr of it driving away into the night.
Dennis thunked his head against the wooden door, biting back a smile. The angle of his neck brought the fabric of his jacket closer to his face and he caught a whiff of Dr. Robby’s cologne again. Fresh and forest-like. His smile dimmed for a moment before he shook thoughts of the older man away, replacing them with Brendon’s big hands and shocked, hopeful look.
*
The next day Dennis, bleary eyed from the late night and alcohol— he’d never been much of a drinker— couldn’t keep himself from excessively yawning. An incredibly rude habit for a student doctor to have especially when asking patients to describe the circumstances that landed them in the emergency room.
Around midday en route to the bathroom he was pulled away from his path by a hand on his shoulder, steering him in the opposite direction. Dennis knew immediately who it belonged to. There was only one hand that ever consistently made its way to his shoulder, back, or neck to guide him where desired.
“Got a procedure I think you’d benefit from if you’re free,” Dr. Robby said, leaning down to speak to him.
“Of course,” Dennis said, glancing up.
Bathroom break all but forgotten, Dr. Robby deposited him at a treatment room where a patient was already sedated and laying on their side.
“Lumbar puncture?” Dennis guessed.
“Bingo. You’ve seen one last week, now it’s time to perform one.”
Dennis nodded and began scrubbing up, eventually taking a seat behind the patient. He narrated his actions as he prepped the patient, peeking at Dr. Robby every so often, making sure of his approval before proceeding with every next step.
The attending only spoke when guiding him, his tone was low and gentle when doing so.
“Slightly too lateral, take it down a notch.”
“Roger that,” Dennis murmured, adjusting the needle a fraction of a centimeter lower.
“Good,” Dr. Robby hummed in Dennis’s ear from where the other man was perched over his shoulder. The memory of Brendon Park whispering in his ear last night shot to the forefront of his mind. Then, without his permission, his brain conjured up an alternative scene where Dr. Robby was the one whispering filthy things to him in a warmly lit bar. He swallowed thickly, willing the thought away.
He focused on the smooth skin of his patient's back. A lumbar puncture was a relatively low risk procedure to undergo. Less so when the med student performing it was thinking about his boss calling him a good boy.
With an exhale he punctured the skin and three vials of fluid later he had successfully completed his first spinal tap. He began performing finishing protocols as Dr. Robby moved to note the update in the patient’s file on one of the portable monitors.
“That looked like an expensive ride you got into last night,” Dr. Robby said, arms crossed and eyeballing him from across the room.
Dennis felt his heart sink into his gut.
“Oh, uh—” he began with no plan as to how he was going to finish his sentence. He felt his face flush and felt utter mortification at the thought of his attending, who he may or may not hold a small but very bright torch for, having seen him climb into the car of one of their well established orthopedic surgeons who he had just met that day. It would be cause for professional intervention, probably. Dennis wasn’t sure what the policy was but it made sense. He should have looked it up before ever agreeing to a date with Park.
He wouldn’t survive that conversation, especially not with Dr. Robby spearheading it.
Dennis felt the overwhelming urge to blurt out that he didn’t have sex with the surgeon. A compulsion of his old religion, most likely. Honesty was trained into him like a fucked up Pavlov’s dog experiment to a fault. Dennis also wanted to confess that he wasn’t sure how far he would’ve let Brendon go if the other man hadn’t pulled away which filled him with something like guilt which was also probably a side effect of growing up in an environment that shamed sex.
Aside from that he really didn’t want to think about the implications of his subconscious viewing Dr. Robby as a man he needed to confess all of his sins to.
The attending must have decided to take pity on him because the other man sighed and said, “I don't offer this to everyone so I would appreciate it if you kept this between us but if you ever need a ride, just ask. I know those Ubers can get expensive.”
“Uber?” Dennis asked, stupidly.
”Or, what’s the other one? Lyft?” Dr. Robby asked, face twisted in mild disdain.
He blinked. Uber, Dennis thought, he thinks it was an Uber.
Then, with different kind of a feeling low in his gut, he’s offering to take me home.
“I—Um,” he cleared his throat, “that's incredibly kind of you Dr. Robby and I appreciate the offer but I couldn’t impose myself on you like that.”
He wanted nothing more than to impose himself on Dr. Robby in a plethora of ways. He wouldn’t, though. He was strong willed. A god damned professional.
“The only way you’d impose on me is if you go around telling people. I have no interest in becoming a bus service,” he huffed, glancing away before turning to Dennis again with a new intensity. “Look, Whitaker, I have no doubt that you’re going to be a fantastic doctor one day. I just want to support you on your journey to becoming one. So, promise me that if you need, well, anything really, that you’ll ask me for it. I’m here to help,” he finished with a smile teasing the corner of his mouth, eyes crinkling.
Dennis stared up at him, mouth agape, still slightly dazed.
Dr. Robby ducked his head, catching his eyes, “Ok?”
“Ok, yeah. Totally. I promise. Thank you, Dr. Robby,” he managed, snapping out of it to finally rising from his seat.
Dr. Robby must have been satisfied with his response because he let it go for the time being. The other man logged out of the computer and made to leave the room.
That was the thing about the other man, he was always on the move— hard to pin down.
“Oh, before I forget— your jacket is in my locker. I can leave it on your desk if that's ok?” Dennis said as he tossed his PPE into a waste bin.
“Keep it,” Dr. Robby called over his shoulder like it was nothing, already bounding off to assist another patient. “It looks better on you anyways.”
He stared at the swinging doors Dr. Robby left behind in his wake. Now what the hell was he supposed to do with that?