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Perfect.
Just perfect. This disaster of a shift just couldn't get any worse, really.
Dennis was up to his neck in paperwork he wasn't sure he'd ever clear, a roommate that was one more stack of charts away from a complete and total breakdown, back-to-back messages from Amy asking if he'd have enough time to come over and watch the fireworks.
And now, he'd lost his ID badge.
You know what—scratch that. The night could definitely get worse. He could be in Dana's shoes, stuck in the ER until she found someone who could cover as charge nurse for the night.
He could have been Dr. Mohan, who'd lost one patient and almost lost Orlando Diaz.
Or Ogilvie, who'd lost two patients, each one only forty minutes apart.
All things considered, today could have been much worse. Dennis had done worse—he lived it ten months ago.
But even then, all of that bullshit he went through months ago, all the pain and blood and horror and grief... none of that seemed to compare to the emotional burden he'd felt today. His mind felt numb, his body following suit as he continued to shred through chart after chart. Pulling up his password and login from his notes app to log back into the computers every once in a while, feeling like a med student again as he entered patient charts.
He really, really needed to find his ID clip.
It was non-negotiable at this point. Mel had mentioned him being able to get a new one after doing some paperwork. And while that alone sounded unappealing to Dennis, the idea of having to tell Robby about it—well, that sounded even worse.
Robby had just given it to him that day, handed it to him with a bright smile, pride and praise dripping from every word he said. Had almost made Dennis wanna melt right through his seat and into the floor. Made a blush creep up his neck as the laminated cards were passed between them, his fingers brushing Robby's.
Dennis' face scrunched up as he shredded a new batch of charts, imagining his attending's look of disappointment. No, he wouldn't tell Robby.
"Trin," he started, pressing reverse on their POS shredder to prevent a jam. "Do you remember at all the last time you saw me with my ID ring?"
Trinity didn't even look up from her computer, her hands typing away. Dennis sighed as he pushed the last of the papers through. He turned toward her, clasping his hands together.
"Trinity, please. I know you're having a rough night—"
"No fucking shit, Sherlock," she spat at him. A shaky hand ran through her progressively loosening ponytail.
Dennis understood, really he did. And usually he was a fountain of calm, cool, and collected. But he was actually kinda really starting to panic.
"Look, I just—Robby gave that to me like... today. Just a few hours ago and I can't go up to him and tell him that on my first day as a real doctor I lost my ID badge and I—"
Trinity cut him off with a raise of her hand as the other carded through her hair, likely staving off a migraine.
"Look, Huckleberry. I don't care about your weird father-son shit with Robby and I don't know where the damn thing is. You had it most of the day. I saw you, like... use it when we were shredding. You got into your computer."
Dennis nodded. She sighed heavily and pushed away from her computer.
"So... it couldn't have gone far. Did you retrace your steps?"
"All over the hospital. Everywhere I've been. I even went outside."
Trinity shrugged and pulled herself toward the desk, picking up another set of charts to shred.
"Then I really don't know how to help you here. Maybe someone found it. Maybe they returned it to the nurse station."
Now there was an idea. Dennis hadn't checked in with Dana, hadn't even considered that someone could have turned in his badge. Quickly, he pushed himself back from the desk, making Trinity give him a questioning look.
"Where are you—?"
"You said it yourself, Trin! Someone might have turned it in. I'll be right back."
He heard a loud groan behind him as he began walking over to the hub.
*
When Dennis got to the hub, he was happy to see that the fill-in they'd hired was gone. She was really getting under people's skin—talking to those ICE agents that took Jesse away, talking down to multiple doctors and nurses as if she were the queen of the whole department. Now it was just Dana, Dr. Abbot, and their newest med student.
With the sweetest smile he could muster, he walked up to the barrier and leaned against it. Then he cleared his throat.
"Hey, uh, Dana. Did anyone happen to—"
Dana looked up at him from her chair, her eyes peeking over her glasses. Dennis suddenly felt a bit more nervous asking.
What if the ID card wasn't there? What if he asked her and she turned around and told Robby that he'd lost his card? Would Robby take back the responsibility and trust he'd put in Dennis after seeing how Dennis could lose something as easy to keep on him as a clip-on ID card?
He swallowed hard.
"Did anyone happen to turn in anything?"
She shook her head and continued her shredding. "You gotta be more specific, kid. What're you missin'?"
Fuck.
"Uh. Just my, uhm... my ID card."
Dr. Abbot looked up from his computer. "Whitaker, you lost your ID ring?"
If he wasn't red before, he sure was now.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did. I know it's unprofessional and I'm sorry. But I've been trying to find it for the last few hours and I—"
Abbot shook his head and turned back to his own computer as Dana sat up from her chair, stretching out her lower back and pushing her glasses into her blonde hair.
"We didn't get anything turned in, hun. Sorry. Try and retrace your steps, it has to be here somewhere. Where was the last place you knew you had it?"
Dennis thought hard. Trinity said she knew he had it when they started charting two hours ago. He'd swiped into a patient chart to help with the girl who almost cut off blood flow to her septum. Then he'd...
He'd gone outside to talk to Ogilvie. And when he came back, he hadn't needed to sign back into his chart because the computer was still unlocked.
But he'd checked outside already. In fact, that was the first place he checked, right before that ambulance rammed into Robby's bike. He'd checked the corner where he found Ogilvie. He'd even checked the bushes, scratched up and down his arms from the twigs to prove it.
Could it be in the parking lot? Had he dropped it before he went to sit with Ogilvie in the parked ambulance?
Without a word he took off again, beelining right for the ambulance bay, ignoring the sounds of the night attending and charge nurse quietly talking in the background.
*
The ambulance bay was surprisingly very empty, which was odd even at this time of night. The only sounds that could be heard were intermittent waves of chatter and noise flooding out of the department every time the sliding glass doors hissed open.
And faintly, way off in the distance, the sounds of fireworks beginning over at PNC Park.
Man, what Dennis wouldn't give to be gone right now. On his way to Amy's, relaxing with her and her daughter Charlotte. Maybe a beer or two if she had some, watching the fireworks her neighbors were setting off tonight.
He could be on the road right now, making his way over there. Driving with his windows down in his shitty car with no AC, listening to the playlist that Robby had made for him a month ago, when he'd teased Dennis for his poor taste in music.
The playlist was a burned CD, which Dennis honestly didn't know people even did anymore, of all of Robby's favorite songs. For Dennis to feed into his crappy CD player and listen to at his convenience. About twenty-five tracks in all, each of them having a meaning of some kind—or at least to Robby.
And anything important to Robby was important to Dennis.
So he listened, a track a day. Over and over, to and from work. Out grocery shopping with Trinity—her roasting him for his sudden old-ass taste in music not going unnoticed. And he really listened. Robby coming up to him during his next shifts to ask him about the songs, if he liked them, if he didn't.
And Dennis told him what he thought, that some of them were good and some were okay. That some were great. And he listened as Robby talked about how the music had been connected to his childhood or his internship—or even to a past relationship—because it was important to him.
And that made it important to Dennis.
Was Dennis maybe too smitten with his attending? Yes. But he never did anything about it. He just suffered in silence as Robby touched and manhandled him, made him blush with compliments about his capability and talents as a doctor.
Dennis knew it wasn't mutual. He knew that to Robby he was and would only ever be that shy and mousy med student, the one with wide, malnourished eyes and uncertainty in himself and his abilities.
Never mind the fact that Dennis had bulked up significantly in ten months, all thanks to the farm work he put in at Amy's.
Or that he'd grown out his hair and gotten it cut in a way that Trinity not-so-subtly said would be a hit with the older guys, calling Dennis a geriatric honey-pot.
Regardless of Dennis' feelings (crush or lust) for Robby, or Robby's lack of reciprocation, Dennis admired the man. Admired his dedication to medicine and to teaching. To using a steady and firm hand to guide those under him, and being blunt when it mattered, even if it stepped on some toes.
Which was why Dennis was absolutely not going to Robby to tell him he lost his ID ring.
And as he stepped out into the cooling night air, he looked down.
The overhead lights from the bay roof helped illuminate the sidewalk and the entrance to the hospital, up to about ten feet from his judgment, but beyond that was just darkness.
With a sigh, he reached into his scrub pockets and pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight app. As he waved it from side to side, searching desperately in every corner and dark crevice, a voice called out to him from the darkness.
"Whitaker? Is that you?"
Dennis almost jumped right out of his skin at the sound of his senior attending's voice. Without thinking, he shined his flashlight in the direction of the voice—and right into Robby's eyes. He instinctively put a hand up to block the intrusive light, squinting.
"Jesus, kid. You really gotta shine that thing right into my face?"
Dennis apologized profusely as he lowered his phone and almost dropped it trying to put it back into his pocket.
"Dr. Robby! Sorry, I was just... I'm sorry. I didn't know you were out here."
From the darkness, Robby chuckled warmly, but there was some tension in how it tapered off.
"Yeah. I've only been out here for a minute or so—"
As his eyes began to adjust, Dennis could see the world outside the light of the ambulance bay come into focus. Robby was sitting on the ground—on the sidewalk, more accurately—not too far from his motorcycle. His knees were drawn up, feet planted on the ground, his head and back flat against the stone. Between his fingers was, presumably, his own ID card, being flicked and flipped lazily.
"You... are you doing okay, Dr. Robby?"
Robby huffed out a breath that might have started as a laugh, but sounded far from it, his hands resuming their idle pace.
"As okay as a day like this can make a man feel."
Even in the dark, the brown irises of his eyes could be seen, the features of his face that Dennis dreamed about often.
The hard lines of his face, his small and unsure smile. His voice pulled Dennis out of his reverie. "How are you doing, Whitaker? Today was a lot, for any doctor."
Dennis shrugged and found himself against the wall opposite of Robby.
His shoulder pressed against it in a too-casual lean that he hoped made him look cool and mysterious—and not at all an anxious mess.
"I'm doing alright. Ready to leave."
Robby nodded and exhaled, his hand coming up to rub and pull at his roots. "You can fucking say that again. I cannot wait to get away from this place."
As Robby said that, a faint whistle could be heard as a few fireworks began to light up the night sky. Bursts of white and blue and red shot up in fiery trails and burst into ribbons of color. They both turned to see the display, Dennis turning last minute to see his attending's face illuminated by the gentle light, the twinkling reflecting back in his eyes.
As Robby's gaze fell to his bike, Dennis spoke up.
"Sorry about your bike. I tried to get it back up after the ambulance hit it—it was far too heavy. Looks pretty dinged up, too."
Robby nodded, his eyes hardening as he looked toward the ambulance bay.
"Yeah, Duke helped me get her up. And he took a look at it. Thankfully it's mostly superficial. Should be able to ride out tomorrow afternoon after he makes a few changes. Which sucks a lot... was hoping to leave tonight..."
He trailed off as Dennis crossed his arms against his chest, it suddenly feeling a bit tight.
This was Robby's last shift at PTMC for a few months, and Dennis would miss him a lot. He'd miss having Robby there to guide him, to show him new things. Selfishly, he'd miss having Robby touch him—though he'd never admit that perverse thought. And above all, when he finally got to the last song on the playlist, he'd miss talking to him about it.
He was on track twenty-four, had just finished listening to a song called In The Light by Led Zeppelin. It was an interesting one, for sure. He and Robby hadn't gotten the chance to talk about it at all today like he'd hoped.
Well, better late than never, he guessed as he walked over to Robby. He put his heels to the wall and slowly lowered himself until he was shoulder to shoulder with his attending.
"I, uh... I just finished my full listen to track twenty-four. Just have one more left."
Robby's whole face lit up, a genuine smile breaking through.
"Oh yeah? Remind me, which one was number twenty-four?"
"In The Light, Led Zeppelin."
Robby clicked his tongue, his smile softening. "Hah. Fitting. So tell me—what did you think?"
Dennis shrugged. "I didn't expect a nearly nine-minute-long song about... actually, I listened to that song about seven times in a day and a half, and I'll be honest, Dr. Robby, I'm still a little unsure about the message."
Robby tutted and brushed his shoulder against Dennis', the warmth from him radiating from the small touch and across the younger man's body like he'd been submerged in a hot bath.
"Well, then you obviously didn't listen to it enough."
Dennis couldn't help but roll his eyes and smile. "Robby, I think seven times is more than enough. If I can't get the meaning, then I think it's beyond user error." He froze for a moment, forgetting that he was still at the hospital. Still talking to his boss. "I, uh. I mean, Dr. Robby—"
Robby waved him off, looking out into the night as another small round of fireworks popped off, small but bright as their smoke scarred the night sky.
"Robby is fine. Not like I'll be your attending for much longer."
Dennis was starting to not like the sound of that. It was starting to sound like the weird confession Robby had made earlier in the break room—offering Dennis his house to stay in and then claiming he could keep it if he didn't come back. Which of course was crazy, because he was coming back.
Right?
"So then tell me."
Robby looked away from the night sky, his brows furrowing. "Tell you what, Whitaker?"
"Tell me. About the song. Tell me what I'm missing, D—erm, Robby." Dennis nervously scratched at the back of his neck as the words came out, willing himself to brave through to offer his own name. "And please, if I'm gonna drop your official title... drop mine too. Honestly, call me Dennis."
Robby laughed at that, his grip on his ID card loosening, his other hand falling to rub behind his neck.
"Well, Dennis..." he started, his voice a bit rough. "That song is about... well, a lot of things. Hope in oneself, in the support of others around you—"
Dennis watched him as he spoke—his body language, his eyes trailing toward Dennis and then looking away the moment they almost met, like the contact would burn him alive.
"—it's about love... about companionship. All of that stuff being found on this dark road of our lives."
His voice faltered as he stared at his feet, like he couldn't even acknowledge Dennis. And for a moment, Dennis wondered if Robby even knew he was still there.
"It's about how we all struggle and that we shouldn't have to carry our burdens alone."
He'd gone quiet as the last words left his mouth, drifting between the newly formed silence. The parallels weren't subtle. And Robby clearly felt them too.
Dennis sucked in his bottom lip, his hands sliding up his arm, his knuckles almost brushing Robby's knees.
"Seems like an important message."
His attending still looked at his knees, letting them slide slowly to the ground as his legs straightened out, almost able to brush the toe of his nonslip shoes against his bike. He let his head fall back against the stone again.
"Pipe dream is what it is. Don't think too much into the lyrics. I know I try not to."
And before Dennis could think better of it—before he could convince himself that it wasn't his place to question his boss's mental state or motives—he spoke up.
"Maybe... you should."
"Maybe I should what?"
Dennis flinched. The tone in Robby's voice was just a hair too defensive for his liking, still friendly but with an undertone that really drove home that he'd overstepped.
"Yeah, no. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn't mean to say that you needed to or whatever. I just—"
Then Robby said something that made his heart stop, his blood run cold and warm at the same time.
"Life is too short to not say the things you wanna say, Dennis. Finish the thought."
Dennis hesitated. He really wasn't trying to piss off the one guy he'd had a stupid crush on for the better part of ten months—and his goddamn boss—right before his three-month-long trip across North America.
Lord knew Robby would have all the time in the world to replay everything Dennis had to say. Dennis knew he was going to lay awake at night thinking about it.
"Robby, I'm sorry if I overstepped, really."
Robby just laughed and nudged him again, making Dennis feel warm from head to toe.
"You're okay, kid. Would it make you feel better if I said I wouldn't hold it against you?"
Well, that wasn't fair at all. Dennis felt his nose scrunch up and his lips purse a bit. He nodded.
"Well, I won't. So speak your mind."
The floodgate burst.
"I only meant to say that you have a lot of people here that care about you. A lot of people that love you—" he paused, trying to mince his words the best he could. He'd already dodged one bullet for speaking too freely; he wasn't about to add an HR violation for exposing his uncomfortable crush on top of a possible write-up for losing his ID.
"—lots of people who admire you. Who will miss you a lot while you're gone."
He knew he said that last part with his whole chest, with just a touch too much adoration. He might have even sighed dreamily, too. Because the way Robby looked at him—for the first time all night, hell, all day—he looked at Dennis like he'd just told him he was his favorite person in the whole world.
Like Dennis had told him something he hadn't heard in decades. Or ever.
And that last thought hurt Dennis, like a stab to the heart. Because Robby, of all people, deserved to be told how much he mattered. And not just to Dennis, or as some half-hearted excuse to make Robby's ego feel better.
But because, in many ways, Robby was some of the toughest glue holding the shitshow of The Pitt together.
"I can't even count the amount of people on one hand in my life that care about me anymore."
Dennis felt his chest puff up at that, his blood boiling a little at the thought that Robby really believed that. How could he? There were so many people in his corner every day. Dennis included.
"I can count on both hands, minimum, the amount of people here that do. Me included, so that's bullshit."
When Robby spoke, it was gentle, almost reverent. Like he was afraid whatever moment Dennis' words had created, however fragile, would break the moment he said a word.
"Really?"
And right when Dennis thought his heart couldn't break any further, Robby went and said that. With the saddest look on his face, and a gleam in his eyes that, if Dennis didn't know any better, he'd say was the beginning of tears.
He nodded enthusiastically, shifting his body closer to Robby's.
"Yes, Robby. You hold us all together. I mean that, meant it even on day one."
Robby's throat worked, his eyes looking down at where he'd pulled a knee up, letting it fall instinctively against Dennis' own, making his head swim. Dennis willed himself to focus on his words.
Dennis could see the moment Robby registered the memory. From Pittfest. The two of them in Pedes. Dennis trying his hardest to pull his attending out of whatever black pit had swallowed him whole and barely spit him back out.
The same black pit that he seemed to be standing at now, both staring back at one another.
"I could have said it better than I did, but it was true then. Just like it is now. Robby, this place without you... it wouldn't be the same. I couldn't—" He took a deep breath and adjusted his phrasing again. "—we couldn't do half of this shit without you."
There was a pause as Robby seemed to contemplate his words, nodding absently. Dennis tried to lighten the mood.
"Besides, who else am I gonna talk to about my shit taste in music? Who else is gonna give me all the classics?"
To Dennis' surprise and joy, that made Robby laugh loudly. It rattled against Dennis' ribs, making his heart feel lighter than air.
"Somehow, I think you'd have no trouble being able to find another old man to give you good music advice."
Dennis frowned at Robby's words, at his self-deprecating tone. This was their thing, him and Robby. Dennis wouldn't dare dream of doing this with anyone else. Why would Robby?
"No."
"No?"
"No." Dennis repeated more sternly as he shook his head, his gaze falling to where their knees were still touching.
He took a deep breath, and slowly let his hand slide back down his arm, settling on his knee, his knuckles brushing Robby's. "No, I wouldn't do that stuff with anyone else... no one but you."
Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a very long time. Dennis stopped the grazing of his knuckles and watched Robby. Robby watched him back and didn't pull his knee away. And Dennis watched as the nine p.m. firework show starting behind him brought Robby's face into full view.
His features shown dramatically under the dull glow of the display, his brow deeply furrowed and lips set in an unreadable expression, making Dennis feel a bit out of his element. Like maybe he had finally shown too much of his hand.
Then, as hues of red and blue highlighted his expression, it shifted. His eyes softened deeply. He licked his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth to worry the skin. And Dennis might have thought he was going a bit crazy then, but he could have sworn Robby looked down at his mouth.
For a good while, too, which made him feel even crazier. Robby was stressed, about going on his trip and leaving his house to his resident for so long. He was tired.
They were both tired and in need of sleep.
Yep, that had to be it.
Dennis was tired and imagining things, and his longing for his attending, their perceived closeness and admiration of one another's work, it was all going to his head.
Robby had been feeding Dennis crumbs all day—touching and squeezing and smiling and praising—and Dennis had been fueled on adrenaline and half a cold, soggy hotdog all day. So he wasn't really in his right mind.
He hadn't been thinking clearly. Not when he'd taken his seat next to Robby, not when he'd let their knees get so close to one another. And not even the moment that Robby let his eyes wander back up to Dennis' own, let their bodies relax toward each other, and said nothing when Dennis let his pinkie sit over his knee.
Robby's breath hitched and his expression changed again, his voice almost raw, sounding rubbed down as he looked at Dennis's mouth again. A hand coming up to gentle scratch at his beard.
"Track... twenty-five. That one is next, right? Good song. Probably one of my favorites. Have You Ever Seen The Rain by... uh, by Creedence..."
Dennis swallowed hard, his own eyes unable now to stop watching Robby's mouth. At his bitten lips. At that beard he laid awake at night thinking about touching, running his fingers through not so unlike how Robby was doing.
"Yeah, I'll listen to it when—"
Dennis barely got anything out before Robby surged forward in a kiss, right as a whistle and crackling boom lit up the sky behind them. Barely hiding the sound of surprise Dennis let out, his tension starting to bleed away as one of Robby's large hands came up to slot against his neck and jaw.
And as Robby sighed against his lips, so did Dennis. Letting Robby gently part his lips and swallow each noise he made, letting his tongue explore the inside of his mouth tentatively.
Dennis had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands from this angle, so he rested one in his lap as the other braced against Robby's bicep, gripping hard enough that Dennis thought he might actually bruise him. Robby's facial hair tickled and burned where it rubbed at his chin, the forming redness only eased by the spit exchanged between them.
Dennis couldn't bring himself to actually care.
And as Robby kissed him, he couldn't help but think about how Robby tasted nothing like Dennis thought he would. When you read a romance book, the author always describes someone's taste. And it's always sweet, some kind of impossible flavor that lingers long after.
But Robby just simply tasted like... mouth.
Like skin and sweat and spit, maybe a little bit of cheap coffee from the break room. But even so, with every pass of their lips and tongues, Dennis found himself intoxicated by the tastes all the same.
The small moans and whimpers that Robby elicited with each kiss, broken up by his own gentle sighs, were barely registered beneath the sounds of the show at the park. The darkness and noise hid them both, enveloping them in a moment that had only ever seemed possible to Dennis in a dream. He felt as if he'd been placed in a vacuum, with all the air being pulled from his lungs and right into Robby's.
Euphoria might not be a strong enough word to convey the feeling, the overwhelming tide of emotion swelling up in his chest and throat.
After a few minutes, or hours, he wasn't really sure—Robby pulled away first. His breathing heavy and his lips red, likely matching a fraction of the burn he'd given Dennis. His hand remained at his jaw, stroking along the hinge as he inhaled and exhaled, deep pulls in and out.
And as they both struggled to catch their breath, as the fireworks between them started to wane in intensity, matching the ones that haloed them, Robby spoke up, pulling his hand away from Dennis quick enough to almost make him whine from the loss.
And he almost curled in on himself.
"Fuck. I'm—fuck, fuck. Dennis, I'm sorry."
The tonal whiplash about smacked Dennis in the face with all the power of a bullwhip. He blinked in confusion a few times, his mind swimming with a million things he wanted to say.
It's okay, please don't be sorry.
I liked it.
What about Noelle? (Not smart, Dennis.)
I've wanted that for longer than you know.
But, inevitably, he settled on: "Huh?"
Robby folded completely into himself, his knees coming up to his chest, his head resting upon them in a near fetal position, his forehead shaking against his knees.
"I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have done that. Fuck, you didn't—"
Robby didn't seem to know where one thought ended and another began as he cycled through every practiced phrase Dennis had likely heard from every employee sexual harassment training video ever made.
"You just became a resident. You just got your badge today. I'm your—"
He was Dennis's boss. And this was wrong of him. Professionally, Dennis should have felt taken advantage of. He really should.
But he didn't.
He felt, for a moment, like his wildest dreams had come true. That the man he'd been pining for over months, sharing music with for the last month, could actually like him. That this crush, this feeling Dennis had been guiltily harboring for so long...
It was mutual. Or at least he thought it had been.
Until the moment Robby pulled away. Until he got up from the spot on the ground where he'd been sitting, talking about how wrong he was. Apologizing over and over as if Dennis hadn't reacted enthusiastically to it all.
Right up until the moment Robby clipped his own ID badge back onto his scrubs, straightened himself, and turned toward the sliding glass doors. Walking away and leaving Dennis in the dark. Not even looking back.
Then, Dennis was alone. With the distant sounds of laughter and the residual blasting of fireworks. And a heart both so empty and overfilled that he wasn't sure he could parse it all.
He felt dizzy—elated, pissed off, confused all at once.
And as he watched Robby's back disappear out of sight, back into the chaos and confusion, Dennis struggled to remember why he'd even come out there in the first place.