Work Text:
Dennis Whitaker was a bleeding heart. Everyone told him that his whole life. He cared too much, he worked too hard, he wanted to please everyone too badly. Dennis never really cared. He figured it was a good thing to be depended on, to be the shoulder on which others can cry.
In short, the street team was great for him. He got to help people in all kinds of situations without the noise of the ER.
He loved every part of it. Helping run the events, sorting donations from drives, and helping people who reminded him so much of himself.
He loved it a lot less when he was standing in an alleyway at sundown with a gun pointed at him by a bloodied man. He just got his cool street team jacket, too.
Dennis put his hands up quickly. To be on the street team you had to pass multiple "deescalation" classes. It was encouraged by older members to have some self defense knowledge too, but Dennis figured growing up wrestling with three older brothers was enough. All of these lessons learned were hardly used, but precautions had to be taken anyhow.
"Woah, hey," Dennis said, dropping his med bag as his hands raised.
The guy practically snarled at him. He looked at Dennis through his eyebrows, shoulders raised like a dog's hackles. He bared his teeth as if he was a wild animal. The gun in his hand glimmered with the evening sun.
"I'm not a cop. I'm a doctor with the hospital street team."
The guy put his gun down, just barely. He pulled up his sleeve and showed Dennis a pretty gnarly scratch. It looked a few days old, but nothing crazy. It was most definitely infected, or on the way to being so.
"I can fix that up for you, yeah?"
The guy nodded. He stepped a little closer, gun still in his hand. His finger eased away from the trigger.
"I have to call someone else over here, though. We aren't supposed to work alone in a secluded area-"
"Just you," he insisted. "Nobody else. Just you."
Dennis decided he could bend the rules a little, considering the gun.
Dennis didn't realize while he was talking, but his heart was pumping so fast he could hear it in his head. He could feel the loud, scared thumps. Dennis, despite his doe eyes and innocent face, didn't scare easy. He hadn't since he was a little kid. However, he could feel his hands shaking as he lowered them to grab his med bag.
He really knew he was shaking as he reached for the spray bottle in his bag. "I'm going to flush it with saline. It'll sting just a little," he said carefully, listening to his own voice shake.
The stranger watched Dennis's eyes flick down to the gun a few times. Finally, he set it down on the ground by his feet. He clenched his jaw as Dennis sprayed the saline over the wound, but didn't say anything.
Dennis finished cleaning out the wound and dressed it gently, giving the man some aftercare instructions and supplies. He nodded along and slinked back into the alley with a, "Thanks," thrown over his shoulder.
Dennis reported it to the supervisor watching the team that night. She gave him as sympathetic pat and instructed him to be careful, and commended him for handling the situation well while promising him that she would get in contact with the authorities. He stuck with the main group for the rest of the night.
He thought that was the end of it.
——————————————
Work was boring today. Dennis rarely admitted it to himself because, against his will, he had become superstitious about saying things like that. However, he hadn't been given a new patient in nearly an hour and was getting pretty tired of sitting around doing paperwork. Besides, he could feel his PPH goal getting farther with every second.
He was relieved when Donnie came to tell him that a patient was asking for him. He didn't even pause to think about how unusual that was.
Dennis pulled back the curtain on North 3 an bit back a scream. The same guy from the alley, staring at him with the same sharp, animalistic intensity.
Dennis looked nervously between him and the chart in his hands. "Hey, arm not heal so well?"
The guy just stared at him and pulled up the side of his shirt to show a blood soaked gauze. God, Dennis hated his fucking job.
"Well…" he looked down at the chart again. "Mr. Pope. What can I help you with?"
Pope (the worst name Dennis had ever heard) unwrapped the gauze Dennis was pretty sure he did himself and showed him yet another nasty looking laceration.
"Same routine as before," Dennis hummed, grabbing a bottle of saline and flushing the wound. He watched Pope's face twitch, scrunching his nose.
"I wanted to apologize," Pope said.
Dennis was a little caught off guard. Forgive him for judging a book by its cover, but this guy didn't seem like the sincere type.
"Yeah?" Dennis prodded, trying to focus on what his hands were doing.
"You are…very helpful."
"I try."
Dennis looked up at his face, and saw just the slightest hint of something other than stone cold stares.
"Did you call the cops on me?" Pope asked, voice hushed.
"I didn't."
"I'll be real sad if I find out you're lying."
He stayed silent for the rest of his visit. Dennis thought about refusing to work on him. He thought about doing the smart thing and running down the hall to go tell Ahmad that there was a threat.
Dennis didn't do any of that, of course, partly because he was stupid and partly because he had just been so darn bored. Besides, Pope seemed chill enough. Just a little distrusting of others. He was probably down on his luck.
He finished working on the injury, and scooted the rolling chair back. Pope watched his every move, eyes even tracking his breaths.
"How did you know I would be here?" Dennis asked, too curious to stop himself.
Pope's face twitched. "I didn't."
"Then why'd you ask for me?"
"Because I wanted to apologize."
"Is that all?"
Pope just stared at him, not answering. Dennis decided he should stop before this actually got dangerous, and prescribed him some antibiotics before getting back to his paperwork.
"Who was that guy?" Princess asked, leaning over the Hub desk to talk to him quietly.
Dennis waved his hand. "A guy I helped on the street team."
"Is his name really Pope?"
"I…have no idea. Sounds fake though, right?"
"Definitely."
Dennis, again, thought that was the last he would see of Pope.
——————————————
Dennis's morning routine was to wake up with the sun and go sit on his fire escape, awaiting the start of his shift.
He woke up slowly, stretching out each of his limbs before finally letting his feet hit the cold floor. He pulled his warm pajama pants on and opened his window, trying to be quiet for Trinity's sake.
Sitting on the fire escape was a white envelope with "Whitaker" written on it in bad handwriting.
Too tired to think it was a bad idea, he let curiosity consume him and ripped it open.
Inside was a stack of money. It wasn't an insane amount or anything, but definitely not coffee money a friend was repaying him for.
Dennis stared at the open envelope for a while, thoughts trying to order themselves. Maybe Trinity was pranking him. Maybe he won a bet he forgot about. Maybe he should really be more careful with who he treats on the street team.
He looked around again.
Down on the pavement, staring up, was the unmistakable form of Pope.
He looked at Dennis, like a wolf in the night, before slipping into the swaths of people walking to wherever in the big city they were trying to get to that morning.
Dennis really needed to get better at minding his own business, but he figured at least this would be the last of Pope that he would ever see. The man was all patched up, said his apology, and for some reason left a parting gift.
This was the end, surely.
——————————————
Dennis's feet ached from a long day of work. He could buy as many pairs of ergonomic shoes as he wanted, but it would never get rid of the horrible ache he felt as he walked home from his shift.
Usually, he rode home with Trinity. Today was one of the rare days that he was scheduled without her, so he just walked. Not that he really minded, he liked the quiet after a busy day, and the apartment wasn't very far.
He had one headphone in, blasting music into his ears so he wouldn't think too hard about all the things that happened that day. The things he didn't feel like thinking about.
"Kinda dangerous to be out so late," a rough voice said behind him.
Dennis ripped his earbud out, whipping his head around to see who was talking. He really didn't need to, because a part of him already knew.
Dennis's heart raced in his chest.
Pope walked up beside him. "How about I walk you the rest of the way."
"That's really okay, I don't need-"
"I wasn't asking."
Dennis swallowed thickly. He nodded, big eyes watching Pope's face for aggression.
They walked in silence for a long stretch. Pope walked slowly, and Dennis was a little scared of what would happen if he didn't match his pace.
He mustered all his courage. "Did you leave money on my fire escape?"
Pope nodded silently.
"…why?"
"I wanted to."
Dennis stared at the pavement.
"You don't owe me anything," Dennis said.
Pope raised an eyebrow. "Who said I did?"
"I, just-" Dennis floundered. "I was just doing my job."
Pope nodded.
That should've been Dennis's cue to shut up. He should've just kept walking with him and live long enough to tell Trinity that they needed to change all the locks.
Instead, he said, "Is Pope your real name?"
"No. It's Andrew."
Dennis really didn't expect him to say that.
"Why did you tell the ER that it was Pope, then?"
"It's a nickname."
"Where'd it come from?"
"I had a stint with Catholicism."
Dennis looked up at his face. Pope kept his eyes straight ahead, but they flitted around their surroundings for threats. It reminded Dennis of the old guard dog on the farm, how she walked in wide circles around the sheep every night. Dennis felt a little like those sheep right now.
"I was a theology major before I switched to medicine," Dennis said to fill the space.
Pope hummed. "Are you religious now?"
"No, but I was raised Christian. You?"
"I haven't thought about it in a long time."
They walked until they were just a few feet from the apartment, thank God.
"Why the switch to medicine?" Pope asked. He was sure chatty today.
Dennis shrugged. "I like to help people."
Pope gave a huffed laugh.
"Why's that funny?" Dennis smiled.
"I don't think I've ever helped anyone."
Dennis frowned as they reached the doorway. Pope started to walk away, but Dennis cleared his throat.
"That's not true. I mean, you just helped me get home."
Pope stared at his face for a minute. He nodded thoughtfully and slipped away.
As Dennis walked up to his apartment, he thought about if he should get the authorities involved. Pope seemed dangerous at worst and untrustworthy at best. He thought about turning in the money to the cops and telling them that this man was stalking him.
Of course, that would mean possibly losing the man who had so easily caught Dennis's attention. Besides, he didn't seem that dangerous. He was just a little odd. Dennis had made worse decisions, so he figured he'd just see where this went.
Besides, he kind of liked it. He liked the idea of being pursued, watched, wanted. Maybe that was what was wrong with him.
——————————————
"Get some rest, kid," Dana smiled, patting Dennis's back like he was a little kid. He was so exhausted from working way too many hours that he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed about the coddling.
His locker housed his hoodie, which immediately went over his scrubs so hopefully people would stop asking him to do his job for a the remainder of his walk to the ambulance bay doors, then home.
Energy drink in hand, he brushed past night shift and got out to the big, swinging doors.
Dennis almost missed it. If he wasn't so paranoid now, so convinced that someone was always watching, he probably would have.
As the ambulance (having freshly deposited a screaming man) drove off, Dennis caught a glimpse of a familiar figure trying to play hide and seek with him. He sighed and looked both ways before crossing the ambulance bay.
"Andrew," he said, trying to be stern but not loud.
Pope walked out from the shadows of the night, looking like a dog caught chewing a shoe. Maybe Dennis was becoming too lenient with his stalker, but the guilty look was a little endearing.
"Do you need help?" Dennis asked, giving him a once over and selfishly hoping the answer was no.
Thankfully, Pope shook his head. He looked at Dennis sharper than usual, making him suppress the need to shutter.
"Then what're you doing out here?" Dennis asked, softening just barely.
Pope tilted his head that way he did. "Waiting."
"What for?"
"You."
Something Dennis noticed was how Pope always kept his hands at his sides. Never in his pockets, never crossed over his chest. Always dangling at his sides. At first, it made him uncomfortable. It made Dennis wonder if Pope intended on reaching for something, or even grabbing at him. However, he never did.
He never concealed his thoughts, either. He always just said what he meant, which Dennis could appreciate after his long days of deciphering emergency medical care.
Dennis sucked his teeth. "Right. Well, you can't wait here."
"Why not?" Pope asked, concealing a hint of disgruntlement.
"Because we have security and…look, its just dangerous for you. Anyone could-"
As some form of divine cruelty, Dennis heard footsteps behind him.
"Dr. Whitaker?" A calm voice asked.
Dennis gave Pope a hard glare and put on a smile. "Hi, Mel."
"Is, uh, everything ok?" She hummed, giving an awkward glance to Pope.
Pope was, no doubt, making that scary face he always made. It was reminiscent of how doberman dogs stare with their snouts down as they stalk closer to whatever they think needs stalking.
"Yeah," Dennis said, too quickly. "This is my friend, Andrew. Andrew, this is my coworker, Dr. King."
Mel waved awkwardly. Dennis kicked Pope's foot and he waved back.
Mel squeaked out a, "Have a good night," before scurrying away.
Dennis heaved a relieved sigh, and began the trudge toward home. He didn't hear Pope's footsteps behind him, nor felt his looming shadow, so he turned and found the other man still in place.
"Are you walking me home tonight, or no?"
Pope fell into step beside him.
——————————————
Dennis was really hoping that his sweet old lady of a neighbor didn't walk out of her apartment while he was drunkenly fumbling with his keys in an outfit that would make his parents disown him again.
He and Trinity had left for the club at 10 PM. It was now 5 AM. He should stop agreeing to go out with her, especially when she ended up staying with girl #4 of the night, and he ended up walking home or in some retired frat boy's apartment.
He finally managed to figure out how keys and doorknobs worked, and shoved the door open.
"Fuck-" he exclaimed, jumping what felt like ten feet in the air. He was pretty sure he needed to have his heart restarted.
Pope stood in the middle of his apartment, looking at him like this was a normal thing to do.
Dennis wasn't very scared of Pope these days, but this was just about where he drew the line. He was kidding himself with the 'change the locks' business earlier, but he wasn't anymore. He felt his hands shaking beside him, though he was pretty sure Pope wasn't intending on doing anything to him. Still, he was in his house.
"I hate that," Pope rumbled, boots clacking on the ground as he walked closer to Dennis in the doorway. "I hate the way you look at me sometimes. It's like you're scared of me."
Dennis made the conscious effort to close his hanging mouth. He swallowed thickly, pushing down whatever fears he had, because placating Pope was more important than that right now.
"Sorry," Dennis muttered, big eyes watching him closely. "I don't mean to make you feel like that."
Pope shook his head. "You didn't do anything. Do I? Do I scare you?"
He was right in front of Dennis, something his vaguely sloshed mind had a hard time comprehending. He felt every muscle and bone of his neck force itself to look up at him. He shook his head. Pope seemed satisfied enough to withdraw.
"Why are you…here?" Dennis asked, too tipsy to ask in a nicer way.
Pope looked at him like he was the weird one for asking. "You told me not to wait at the hospital."
Dennis resisted the urge to put his face in his hands.
"This isn't what I meant," he sighed.
"Then where do I wait for you?"
"You don't, Andrew."
Pope stared at him. He tilted his head just barely, and looked…sad. Almost.
Dennis was back to thinking he was cute. If he got kidnapped and murdered, he couldn't even be mad about it. He was kind of just asking for it at this point.
"Here, I'll give you my phone number," Dennis hummed, motioning for Pope's phone. "Then, when you want to talk to me, you can just text me."
Pope reluctantly handed over what was definitely a burner phone and watched Dennis type in his number.
"You don't want me to walk you home anymore?" Pope asked, looking at him through his eyebrows.
"You can, if you want. Text me sometime and I'll tell you what days I work. That way you don't have to just wait around."
Pope nodded and gave him one more once over before shuffling past him and out the door without another word.
It was then that Dennis remembered that he was scantily clad, and locked the door before performing a walk of shame back to his bedroom.
——————————————
Dennis was starting to wonder if Pope had forgotten that he had his number.
That was, until 11 PM one night, when he got a text from an unknown number that said nothing but, "Can you help me?" He nearly swiped it away, thinking maybe it was a scam message or something otherwise sinister, but his better judgment told him to at least reach out. He just wouldn't click any suspicious links.
Before he got the chance to answer, though, a blurry picture came through. He recognized the freckled skin he had patched up so many times. He was much less happy to see a large, jagged gash running down that skin.
"go to the PTMC" Dennis responded.
The answer came back immediately. "No. You don't work tonight. I want you to do it. Meet me, or I meet you."
"fine, come over. fire escape"
Dennis had a sneaking suspicion that Pope was already slinking around the apartment because it took no time at all for him to be knocking on Dennis's fire escape window, holding his bleeding side.
Dennis fumbled with the window latch, watching Pope stumble in ungracefully.
Dennis held his arms and helped him up, shushing him gently. "My roommate is home."
Pope got to his feet with an equal lack of elegance. He panted, gripping his side tightly.
There was a knock on the wall connecting the living room and Dennis's room.
"Is someone here?" Trinity's voice called
Shit, Dennis mouthed. He put a hand over Pope's mouth. "Uh, yeah. The guy from the bar."
"Ewww," she laughed. "Keep it down. Some of us have work tomorrow."
"Sorry, Trin."
Dennis removed his hand from Pope's mouth. It was probably unnecessary in the first place, but he was leaning almost fully on Dennis for support.
Dennis snuck to his bathroom and grabbed the emergency aid kit the hospital 'gifted' the staff a few months ago. He thought it was dumb then, but at least it was coming in handy.
He did some light cleaning and bandaging on Pope's side, noting the bruises all over his everything else, face included.
The minute he was done, Pope stood to leave. Dennis grabbed his arm as gently as possible.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
Pope stared. "Back to what I was doing."
"Uh, no. Stay the night here."
Pope turned. He don't exactly look like he was used to getting bossed around.
"Where?" Pope asked. "Your roommate."
"In here. With me," Dennis said, feeling his face burn red at the suggestion.
Pope didn't argue, either because he didn't want to or because he was too hurt and tired to. He crawled into bed beside Dennis.
——————————————
Stalkers are very good cuddlers, Dennis learned that morning.
He was laying on his side with Pope's arms curled around him. His chest pressed against Dennis's back. When Dennis blinked his eyes open, he could've sworn Pope had been watching him sleep.
Dennis stretched in his arms. "How's your side?" He whispered, too afraid of Trinity's wrath to talk at his normal volume.
"Better. Thank you for last night."
Dennis yawned. "Mhm. Thanks for staying."
Pope looked at him curiously.
"You're…welcome."
Dennis chuckled. "You're a good cuddler."
"Don't say stuff like that."
Dennis smiled. He sat up and stretched, feeling Pope's eyes watching his every move. Now, it didn't feel like an intrusion on his safety and privacy. It felt like watchful eyes loving him the way they knew how.
They spent the morning out on the fire escape, Dennis sitting in the curve of Pope's arm snaked around him.
Pope looked over in the morning light. He was still odd. He was still quiet. But, now Dennis thought it was all kind of sweet.
"Am I scaring you?" He asked, stinted and awkward.
Dennis patted his arm. "No."
"Can I…touch you?"
Dennis nodded his chin to Pope's arm. "Already are."
"Can we kiss, then?"
Dennis was a little surprised. Not just at the gentleness of it all, but at the request in the first place. He didn't seem the type to really want anything like that.
Dennis happily complied, holding Pope's face in his hand and pressing their lips together softly.
And that was the series of dangerous choices and poor judgment that led Dennis to where he was happy to be. In the loving arms of his ex stalker.