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“Dana,” Dennis smiles as he approaches the hub.
“No,” and he’s a little insulted that she doesn’t even look up as she says it.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“Fine. What do you need, Dr. Whitaker?”
She’s mocking him, he knows that, but he doesn’t really care, “Can I borrow a cigar-”
“No.”
“Dana, please.”
“I don’t even have any kid, trying to quit remember.”
“And we both know that’s a lie.”
Dana actually looks up at him now. Raises an eyebrow. And he does his best to look pathetic as hell. Uses the alleged puppy eyes Trinity is always accusing him of having. Tries his best to look sad and forlorn and knows he’s probably laying it on too thick, but he doesn’t even care. He needs five minutes and a cigarette and he doesn’t have any left. Tries not to smoke, he isn’t stupid, he knows they’re bad for him. It’s just been one of those days. She holds his gaze for one second, two, three before sighing. One of those big ones, like a dog does after lying down. Exhausted and done with the world. Reaches under the counter, comes back up with a pack of cigarettes, and her lighter.
“Here,” hands over one single cig and the lighter, “And we never tell Robby this happened, got it?”
“That what happened.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go, you get five.”
“You’re the best.”
“And don’t you forget it, kid.”
Dennis takes his prize, sneaks towards the ambulance bay. Nods at Ahmad as he slips out the door. Knows when Dana says five minutes, she means it. Knows she’ll come and hunt him down herself. Takes a deep breath of fresh-ish city air. Acknowledges the irony of coming out here for fresh air, only to light up a cigarette. He does see it, really, he does. It’s just been a long enough day that he doesn’t care. Stares at the non-smoking sign as he takes a drag, laughs at the irony in that, too.
“Hey, you,” someone on his left calls.
Doesn’t pay any mind to it. Knows it isn’t for him. No one but Dana knows he’s out here, and he still has at least three minutes before she comes looking. Assumes it’s someone shouting to someone on the street. Takes another drag, releases it slow. Hears footsteps, assumes it's the EMTs for the ambo parked to his left. Pays them no mind either. He still has two minutes and fifty-six seconds, and he plans on taking every single one of them.
“Think you can ignore me, huh?”
Turns his head towards the sound just in time to take a fist directly to the face. Hears a crack, broken nose. Chokes on the taste of iron, hot and thick as it floods his mouth. Spits it up, doesn’t want to choke. He didn’t know it was coming, the punch. If he’d known, he’d’ve been fine. Grew up with three older brothers, he knows how to take a hit. Not this time, not when he didn’t see it coming. Not when it seems like the guy put his whole weight behind it.
Crumples to the ground. Ends up on his side, spits blood onto the pavement. Tries to stand, because he has no idea where the guy who hit him went. What he wants. If he’s gonna do it again. Tries to get his feet under him, tries to be ready this time. But his eyes are watering from the pain and his head hurts and he isn’t fast enough. Takes a second fist to the face. Doesn’t hear or feel anything crack this time, small miracles. Falls back to the ground. Takes a second to breathe through the pain, attempts again to get to his feet.
“Stay down,” the man hisses, right before pain explodes.
Kicked. He kicked him. Right in the ribs. Damn, yeah, that hurt. That really hurt. Gives up on trying to get to his feet. Can’t when all he can do is wheeze, try desperately to get back the air he just lost. Prays to a God who never really cared about him, that the man doesn’t keep going. His vision is swimming now. Bleary from the tears, one eye already swelling shut. Holds his breath, waits for another blow. Doesn’t trust God to answer his prayers now any more than he has in the past. Prays anyway.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Dana. That’s Dana. Hears footsteps, both towards him and away. She’s still yelling, even as the guy flees. Stops when she reaches Dennis, and he feels hands on his face. Gentle, careful. Touches his face like his Ma used to, back when he was small and the only worries in life were a skinned knee and his Pa’s temper. Cracks his eyes open. Sees Dana, backlit by the sun. Thinks maybe God does answer prayers after all. Thinks maybe He sent an angel to save him.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Dana starts, hands checking him for injuries.
“I’m fine, ‘m fine.”
Says it even though he knows it isn’t true because he doesn’t want to worry her. Doesn’t want her to be upset, not because of him. He’s not worth the trouble. And he is fine, mostly. Ish. A broken nose and a hell of a shiner, but no broken ribs, at least he doesn’t think. He’s had worse, much worse. This is fine. He’s fine. Not worth getting upset about, that’s for sure.
“Yeah, kid, you sure look it.”
“I’m okay. Give me, give me five, and I’ll get back to work.”
“Like hell you are. Come on, up. Time to get checked out, tough guy.”
He protests, even as she helps him to his feet. He really is fine. Yeah, his head hurts and his nose is for sure broken and his mouth tastes like his own blood and he can’t see out of his one eye, but he’s fine. Dana doesn’t give him much choice, though, as she marches him back into the Pitt. Ahmad is still by the door, and he snaps to attention as soon as he sees Dennis’ face. Must look bad, given the way his eyes widen. Is pretty sure they widen, kinda hard to see with just the one eye.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.”
“Unhappy customer. Can you-”
“Pulling the footage now, I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Ahmad.”
“I really am okay. I’ve had worse, I’m good. Give me a few to walk it off, and I’ll be right as rain.”
“I’m gonna ignore that since my blood pressure is already high enough. Come on.”
He opens his mouth to argue, snaps it shut when she shoots him a look. The same one his Ma used to send him. The one that means do what I want right now, or so help me God. Just lets her lead him where she wants him to go. Hears people exclaiming as they near the hub. Mel’s there, concern written all over her face. She stands as they approach, hands fluttering in front of her like she wants to help. He sends her a smile, ignores the way it makes his nose hurt. Perlah and Emma appear from nowhere, both asking what happened. He’s just thankful Trinity is off today. Already knows she’ll be out for blood when she hears what happened.
“Someone wanted the last word,” Dana tells them, reaching for gauze. “Emma, can you go find Robby? Tell him we had a hula hoop and we need him.”
“No,” Dennis objects, “No, don’t tell him.”
“He’s gonna find out one way or another. Better to just tell him and let him mother hen you.”
“He’s gonna get upset, and I don’t want him to get upset.”
“Of course, he’s gonna be upset, you got hurt. He still needs to know. Emma, go find him.”
“No, Emma, don’t.”
“Emma, go now.”
Emma looks torn, before darting off to find Robby. Great. Dana warns him with a pressure before pressing gauze to his nose. Can’t hold back the noise of pain he makes if he wanted to. Shit, shit, shit. Yeah, okay, that hurts. But he really is fine. He opens his mouth to try again, to tell them all that he's okay and that it isn’t worth all this fuss. Cuts himself off when Dana sends him another look. Sinks into the chair, lets Dana and Perlah fuss over him. Someone, he has no idea who, is cleaning the blood off his neck.
“This didn’t all come from your nose.”
“It did. Just spit some of it up.”
“Dear Lord,” Dana mutters from behind him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” and there’s Robby, who sinks to his knees in front of him, takes his face in his hands.
“I’m ok-”
“Don’t. Don’t minimize it. Who did this?”
“It was, I don’t know who.”
“I think it was Henry Lewis,” Dana chimes in.
Henry Lewis. Husband of Ava Lewis, a patient they lost last week. Car accident. Came in barely clinging to life, and they did everything they could to bring her back to this side of living. It hadn’t been enough, and she’d died on the table. Just in time for her husband to show up. Remembers him screaming, you’re a doctor, aren’t you, save her in his face. Remembers standing vigil while he held her in his arms, sobbing how sorry he was for not being the one to go pick up the milk. While he apologized for killing her. Remembers having to take five minutes in the break room to cry into his hands before going back to work.
Because he can’t imagine how it must feel, losing the love of your life like that. Just watching it was painful enough; he can’t imagine having to live it. Thinks about how he’d feel, if something were to ever happen to Robby. Thinks about how he’d react, what he’d do, if he had to hold his corpse in his arms. Wants to think that he’d be rational, would know the doctor did all they could. He’s a doctor after all, he knows they’re not miracle workers. But, but he also thinks that he’d lose it a little too, if something happened. Doesn’t think he’d hurt anyone, but he understands the impulse.
“Perlah, can you have Ahmad-” Robby starts.
“He’s already pulling the footage,” Dana cuts him off.
“Cameras caught it all. Cops have been notified,” Ahmad says, and Dennis startles because he hadn’t seen him walk up.
“No, I don’t want to report it.”
“Whitaker.”
“No, he. He’s grieving. I’m not gonna, no. I don’t wanna report it. Tell them not to come.”
“We can worry about that later. Now,” Robby turns his whole attention to Dennis, “What happened?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t even hear him coming. He just, socked me out of nowhere. Twice.”
“Damn.”
“But it’s alright, I’m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. You hit your head?”
“Probably? I didn’t lose, uh, I didn’t lose…”
“Consciousness,” Dana supplies, looking worried.
“Yeah, that. I didn’t lose that, so I’m good.”
“Any double vision? Trouble seeing out of the eye not swollen shut,” Robby emphasizes the last part, as if to say you’re not fine.
“No.”
“Headache?”
“Not really,” Dennis says, feels Dana’s eyes on him, “Yes.”
“Follow my finger, eyes only. Pupils are unequal and dilated.”
Concussion. Which, yeah, he probably should have seen that coming. He did get hit in the face, hard, twice. Should have known, given how everything seems too loud, too bright. It’s not a bad one, though, not like the one he got when he was 14 and his brother pushed him out of the hay loft. That had sucked, and hurt way worse. This is fine, manageable. Five minutes in a dark room and some Aleve, and he’ll be ready to get back to it.
“No septal hematoma. Tell me when it’s sore.”
Looks at Robby as he palpitates his face. Stares at the wrinkles next to his eyes, the ones on his forehead. Knows that means he’s worried. Which is exactly why he didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want him to worry. Not about Dennis, not when he didn’t need to. Because he’s fine, he is. Gasps when Robby gets close to the tender area around his nose, flinches away. Hates that he couldn’t control his response. Because now he looks even more worried than he did before, and he hates that. Reaches out a hand, traces the wrinkles between his brow. Does it until Robby’s face relaxes, until his eyes go from concerned to fond.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, smiles when Robby’s eyes go even fonder.
“Aww,” Emma coos from his right.
Dennis freezes, “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah, kid, you did,” Dana says from behind him, laughter clear in her voice.
“I have a concussion,” like that explains it.
“CT head and maxillofacial,” Robby says, that tender expression still on his face.
“No, no, I don’t need any scans.”
“You have a broken nose and a concussion, so scans. I’ll set your nose before we send you to CT.”
“You don’t have to, I can do it.”
“Not gonna happen, kid,” Dana says, already looking to see who they can move to open up a room.
“No, I can. I’ve done it before, it’ll only take me a second if you get me a mirror.”
“Fucking hell, Dennis,” Robby says, voice exasperated but laced with concern, “I’ll set your nose, and then it’s off to CT.”
Dennis can tell he’s already lost this fight, so he just rolls over and accepts his fate, “Got it.”
“West 14 is open.”
“I don’t need a room.”
“Not an option, gotta have somewhere to wait til we get your scans back.”
“I can just go back to work until they come back.”
Dana and Robby both say no at the same time. Loud enough that several people look over. He slides further into his chair. Can feel eyes on him and doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like how it feels. Knows no one here is judging him. Not for getting hit, not for needing to get looked at. He knows that, he does. Still hates it though. Ignores the voice in his head, the one that sounds too much like his Pa, the one that says a real man would just walk it off and do what needs done. Knows that isn’t right. Knows he needs to get checked, even if he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want the attention.
Robby rises from where he’s crouched on the floor, holds out his hands to Dennis. Hauls him to his feet. Uses a hand on the back of his neck to direct him to west 14. Knows that Robby’s feeling some type of way about what happened. Knows because his hand tightens, just a little, whenever someone else drifts too close. Like he’s ready to pull him out of danger, ready to protect him. Thinks it should probably annoy him, the implication that he can’t take care of himself. It doesn’t. Just makes him feel warm and loved. Makes his chest flutter, like there’s a dozen moths in it, all looking for a source of light and Robby’s it.
“Sit.”
“I can do it myself, I know you probably have more important things to do than-”
“Than helping my partner after he got hurt? Sit.”
So he does. Because what else is he supposed to do when he says it that way. Isn’t expecting him to use the P word, not at work. They’re together, everyone knows they are. It’s not a secret. Couldn’t be, not after they disclosed to HR. And yeah, sometimes they act like partners at work. Share a kiss in the break room between patients, drink from the same cup of coffee, stand too close when they’re looking at the board. But they try to keep it professional, as much as they can. No favoritism, and certainly no calling each other partner.
It’s a signal, a sign, to show how freaked out Robby is, even if he isn’t showing it. Thinks how he’d feel, if the roles were reversed. If he’d been told there was a hula hoop, only to see Robby, covered in blood. Eye swollen, nose broken. Feels his chest tighten at just the thought. Knows that feeling is only a fraction of what Robby’s feeling right now. Reaches out for him. Thunks his forehead into his chest, lets Robby wrap his arms around him. Cradle him to his chest. Like he’s something precious, worth protecting, worth worrying about. Feels him drop a kiss to the top of his head before pulling away.
Robby gathers what he needs. A shot of lidocaine to numb it. A kit to make a splint. Hot water. Somehow, he’d forgotten about a splint. Knows it’s necessary, doesn’t mean he has to like it. Wonders, idly, what Robby and Dana would do if he just took it off as soon as he got home. Not that Santos would let him, but still, it’s a nice thought.
“Pinch and burning,” Robby warns, like he doesn’t already know.
Readies the splint supplies while the lidocaine sets in. Feels the pain recede until it’s just a dull ache. Knows it won’t go away completely. It never does. He's one of the lucky ones where it never fully kicks in. Numbs it, mostly, but not entirely. Learned that when he was seventeen, two boys from school jumped him for being, different. Needed seven stitches and he’d felt every one. Doesn’t say anything to Robby. It’s numb enough, even if he knows he’ll still feel it.
Robby feels around his nose, and Dennis looks into his face again. Stares as he concentrates, at the wrinkles around his eyes, on his forehead. Does his best not to show any signs of pain. Can still vaguely feel Robby’s fingers as he determines where the break is, how to fix it. Thinks that if he concentrates, he could feel the whirls of his fingerprints too. Like each touch leaves a mark on him, brands his skin. Takes in the details of his face. Thinks about how lucky he is, that this man is all his. Thinks back to seventeen-year-old him, wishes he could see himself now. Could see that they got everything they ever prayed for. Realizes in that moment that maybe God listens to him more than he thought.
“On three. One, two-”
Dennis already knows he’s gonna do it before three. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Keeps the patient from tensing and making it worse. Knows it’s gonna happen, still flinches a little at the pop that echoes through the room. Robby makes a soothing noise in his throat, follows it up with all done, worst is over, you did so good and a kiss. It makes him smile, despite the pain. Robby kisses his forehead, gentle as anything, reaches for the splint material. Submerges it in the hot water, leaves it until it’s clear, flexible. Molds it carefully over the bridge of his nose. Lets it cool while he digs around for tape to hold it in place. Tapes it, tilts his head from one side to the other.
“Looks good.”
“It’ll be the next fashion trend, I’m sure.”
Robby huffs a laugh. Collects the trash from the splint. A piece of it escapes his hand, flutters to the ground. Without thinking, Dennis goes to pick it up for him. Stands, starts to bend, only makes it that far before his ribs remind him he took a kick to them, too. Right, he’d forgotten about that. Straightens, covers his wince as much as he can, swallows the noise of pain that wants to break free. Hopes that Robby didn’t notice. Chances a glance at him. Judging by the look on his face, he did. Well shit.
“Dennis,” Robby’s voice is measured, like he’s trying to stay calm, “Lift your shirt.”
“You could at least buy me dinner first,” aims for joking, but knows he missed because his voice is still too breathless from the pain.
“Cute. Shirt. Now.”
Reaches down, finds the hem of his scrub top, and lifts it up. Shows Robby the bruise he knows he wants to see. It must be bad, because Robby lets out a noise between a gasp and a whine. And then his hands are on him. Guiding him back onto the bed, urging him to lie down. Rucks his shirt up further so he can feel for broken ribs. Stethoscope in his ears, listening to his lungs. Deep breath in, now let it out. And Dennis can’t help the laugh that sneaks out, because the last time he said that to him the context was very different. Robby shoots him an unimpressed look, like he knows exactly why he’s laughing and doesn’t find it funny at all, even as the corner of his lips turn up.
“No broken ribs, good lung sounds. Looks like it’s just a nasty bruise.”
“I know. Like I said, I’m fine.”
“Did he kick you?” He asks it like he already knows the answer, like he’s hoping he’s wrong.
“Yeah. After he hit me, I ended up on the ground. Kept trying to get up. He didn’t like that.”
Robby doesn’t say anything. Just reaches out, traces the edges of the bruise with a single finger. Dennis doesn’t dare move while he does it. Just looks up at him, into his eyes. Robby’s eyes have always been his favorite thing about him. Don’t get him wrong, he adores all of Robby. Could list a hundred things he loves about the man and still have hundreds left over. But, his eyes. His eyes are his favorite. Can always tell what he’s thinking by looking into them. Especially right now and he doesn't like what he sees.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“To be honest, I forgot until right now.”
“You forgot? About being kicked in the ribs?”
“Yeah, well, you kept touching me, and it was a little distracting.”
Tries another joke because he still has that look in his eyes. Robby looks up then. Eyes going from the bruise over his ribs to his face. To the swollen eye, the bandaged nose, the bruised cheekbone. His brow furrows, and his eyes flip through a few different emotions, so fast Dennis almost can’t keep track. Concern, worry, guilt. They land on guilt and stay there, and Dennis hates it. Hates that he knows Robby is blaming himself for something he had no control over. Something he couldn’t have prevented, no matter what. Has always been good at taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he shouldn’t.
“You could have died.”
“Nah, I’m tougher than that,” still tries to joke, hoping it’ll make that haunted look go away.
“You could have. And it would’ve been my fault.”
“No, no, none of this is your fault.”
“He kicked you, and I didn’t notice.”
“Because I didn’t tell you.”
“I should have known, I should have been able to tell.”
“With what, your X-ray vision? I forgot to mention it, and it’s fine because nothings wrong.”
“You have a concussion. What if you were wrong? What if, what if they were broken? And they punctured something? And you died?”
“And what if I get hit by a bus tomorrow.”
“Dennis.”
“Robby, there’s no point worrying about what ifs. None of those things happened. I’m fine,” amends when Robby shoots him a look, “mostly.”
“But you-”
Sits up, disregards the twinge in his side at the stretch. Reaches for Robby’s face. Puts a finger over his lips to get him to stop talking. Leans forward until their foreheads clink together. Uses the leverage to tilt Robby’s head up until he has no choice but to look into Dennis’ eyes. The angle is awkward as hell, and they’re both half cross-eyed with the effort, but Dennis doesn’t let him look away. Tilts his head until he can press their lips together. Whines, a little, because it smushes his nose, and it hurts. Puts a hand on the back of Robby’s head when he tries to pull away. Doesn’t let him, just kisses him for another three, four, five seconds before pulling back. Bonks his temple into Robby’s.
“I’m here, and nothing happened that some rest won’t heal.”
Robby inhales hard, exhales harder. Nods once. Wraps his arms around Dennis’ shoulders, pulls him into his front. Dennis lets himself collapse into the embrace. Trusts that Robby won’t let him topple off the bed. Turns his face into his chest, hides a smile there. Grins wider when Robby presses a kiss to the top of his head. Has no idea how long they sit there like that. Too long, probably. Definitely. But he knows Robby needs this. Needs to feel him breathing. Needs the reassurance that he’s alive and mostly in one piece. That none of the terrible scenarios in his head actually happened. Knows he needs it because he’d need it too, if the roles were reversed.
“So,” Robby starts, pulling back enough to look into his eyes, “You think I’m pretty, huh?”
And the cackle Dennis lets out hurts his ribs and his head, but it’s totally worth it when Robby joins in.