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“I’m calling it. Time of death, eight twenty-eight.”
Robby’s voice rings out in the trauma bay, and everyone steps back. Dennis ducks his chin, says the same thing in his head he always does when they lose a patient. May they end up where they’re meant to. Rarely knows what religion they are, what kind of afterlife they would want to end up in. Figures praying for them to end up where they’re meant to is the best he can do. Lynn Holland, thirty years old, brought in by EMTs post car crash. They weren’t able to get ahead of the blood loss, get her stable to send up to the OR. They tried, as hard as they could, but it wasn’t enough.
They file out of the room, one by one. A slow march, as it always is when they lose someone. Gloves go in the bin. Shoulders get pats, looks of sympathy are sent to each other. Someone says to take five in the break room, who he doesn’t know. Doesn’t matter, he won’t. Goes to the hub instead, leans against the counter. Looks at the board. Just stares for a second. This is his taking five. Doesn’t want to sit with it, but doesn’t want to ignore it either. Let’s himself have a minute to just stare at the names. Just a minute, and then he’ll go back to work. Do what needs done.
“Sir, you can’t just walk in here,” Dana calls, and Dennis turns to see.
“I got a call, my wife, Lynn, where’s my wife?”
Ah, the husband is here. This is always the worst part. Having to sit down the family and tell them the worst thing they’ll ever hear. We tried everything we could, but she didn’t make it, I’m so sorry. Sees Robby come over at the yelling, ready to take one for the team. He always does. Is always the one to tell the family, when he can. Is always ready to be the one to take on that burden for the rest of the crew, so they don’t have to. To manage the grief and the anger and the anguish. Always so ready to take care of everyone else. Wonders who takes care of him.
Not the time, he thinks with a shake of his head. Finds himself moving over to where the man, Lynn Holland’s husband, is waiting. Isn’t sure why, there’s nothing he can do. Knows from the past that Robby will usher him into the family room, will take him somewhere quieter to break the news. Also knows he won’t ask anyone else to come. Won’t try to share the burden of being the one to tell him. Won’t try to share the load. Will take it all on his own shoulders. Sisyphus. Same boulder, different day.
“Sir, why don’t you come with me, and we can talk?” Robby gestures with one hand toward the family room.
“Where’s my wife?”
“Come with me, and I can answer all your questions.”
“Answer them here.”
“Sir, please, here might not be the best place to-”
It happens too fast, there’s no way for anyone to react. To stop it. To step in. Not Dennis, not Dana, not Robby. No one. And he would have, if there’d been time. Would have stepped in front of Robby and taken the shove, if only so the head that cracked into the corner of the hub desk when he lost his footing and fell was his and not Robby’s. It’s a sickening sound, the crack. Hopes he never hears it again, especially because it’s Robby. Robby, who lies there after, not moving. Dazed. Brings a hand up to the now bleeding back of his head.
Everything moves quickly after that. Ahmad flies in from who knows where, restrains the man. Dana’s yelling, about what he doesn’t know. Isn’t listening to her. Because Robby’s still on the floor. Looking at the red on his hand like he’s never seen blood before. Dennis is moving before he can think. Sliding across the tile to end up next to him. Dana tosses him gauze, and he catches it. Brings Robby’s head forward, gently, just enough that he can press it to the wound. Applies pressure, tries to get the bleeding to stop. Robby doesn’t even fight him on it, doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t insist he’s okay. Just lets him. A sure sign that he’s concussed, or Hell has frozen over. One of the two.
“Whitaker, get him to West 14. Give him the works.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Stands, reaches down. Gets a hold of Robby, lifts him to his feet. He’s practically dead weight. Doesn’t fight it, but doesn’t help either. All but dead lifts him, gets him on his standing. Keeps a hold on him when it’s clear the change in position is making the room spin. Lets him lean on him while he groans. Swears he hears him mutter you’re really strong. Chooses to pretend he didn’t. Instructs Robby to keep pressure on his head, since he can’t do it anymore. Guides him through the ED to west 14, shuts the door behind them. All but pushes Robby onto the bed.
“Strong. Bet you could pick me up,” Robby says, before his brow pinches, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“I probably could. Here, let me see your head.”
Robby leans forward, and Dennis ignores the flutter in his belly when his forehead thunks into his chest with a pained groan. The bleeding has stopped, that’s good. There’s a laceration behind, one that needs cleaning. Stitches too, he thinks. Just a few, but he’ll decide once it’s been irrigated. Taps Robby’s shoulder until he leans back, looks up. Isn’t used to having to look down at Robby, is used to always being the shorter one. Pulls out his pen light, checks his pupils. Feels his heart grow three sizes in response to the noise Robby makes when the light hits his eye, a grumble like Dana just told him no more coffee. Feels his heart clench when, to escape the light, he leans forward into Dennis’ chest again.
“I think I have a concussion.”
“I know you do.”
“Hurts.”
“I bet it does. Let’s take care of that lac. Then it’s a CT scan for you.”
“Don’t need a scan.”
“Hey, no arguing with your doctor.”
That earns a laugh, followed by a pained wince. Dennis makes a noise in the back of his throat, some soothing nonsense. Makes sure Robby’s steady before pulling away. Puts in the CT order. Goes to get an irrigation kit and a suture kit, just in case. Grabs a wash basin. Brings it all to the bed, helps Robby lie back. Puts the catch basin under his head. And a towel under his neck, just in case. Puts another over his eyes, to help block out the lights, since he can’t exactly turn them off right now. Smiles when Robby sighs in relief. Starts irrigating the wound. It’s not as bad as he thought. Doesn’t need stitches, just some skin glue to hold it shut. Should be okay, beyond that, though.
“There you go, all better.”
“Mmm.”
“Come on, no sleeping. You know the rules.”
“Tired.”
“I know. But you can’t sleep yet.”
Almost giggles at the face Robby pulls, which he can only describe as a pout. That’s the concussion for sure. Gathers up everything he used, disposes of it. Makes Robby sit up, because he doesn’t trust him not to fall asleep if he keeps lying down. Can’t hide his smile when he whines, even as he lets Dennis drag him up to sitting. Checks his pupils again, just to be sure they aren’t getting worse. Robby grumbles at the light, shies from it the same way he did before. Turns his head once it’s there, so his ear is pressed to his chest. Wonders, idly, if he can hear how hard his heart is pounding. Hopes not.
“Knock, knock, how’s the patient?”
“Tired,” Robby answers, before he can.
Dana raises an eyebrow when she sees them, but doesn’t comment on it. He tries to pull away, face red. Doesn’t get far, not when Robby makes a noise in the back of his throat. Like Dennis moving is causing him pain. So he doesn’t move. Dana, for some reason, doesn’t look surprised to see them like this. Something that he chooses not to unpack right now, or he's gonna have a panic attack. Or die of embarrassment. No, he’ll unpack it later, when he’s alone in his room and remembering the feel of Robby’s body against his.
“Called in Abbot. He says you owe him.”
“Fuck him,” Robby mumbles into the fabric of Dennis’ scrub top.
“I’ll be sure to let him know you’re interested. Took you off the schedule for a week, too. Doubt we’ll be able to get you a bed upstairs for a little twenty-four-hour observation, so looks like you’ll be stuck down here with us.”
“Don’t need to stay, I can just go home.”
“No can do, Cap, concussion protocol, hospital liability, and you live alone. Which means twenty-four hours at the worst hotel in the world.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says, like he isn’t still hiding in Dennis’ shirt.
“Michael Robinavitch.”
“Don’t full name me, I haven’t even done anything wrong,” and the way he sounds like a child being scolded by his mother makes Dennis chuckle, just a little.
“You know you need to be under observation, and since you live alone, that means-”
“I can go with him and keep an eye on him.”
The words are out of his mouth before he even thinks about them. Before he’s even made the conscious thought to say them. Before he can think through all the many reasons why that’s an inappropriate thing to offer. The chief being his HR violation level crush on the man. He just looks so upset about having to stay, and the ED really is the worst place to be when you have a concussion. Bright lights and monitors beeping and people screaming. Cause someone’s always yelling here, whether it’s one of the staff or a pissed-off patient or someone in pain. Not ideal for someone who feels like their head's about to pop.
Dana looks at him for a second, makes a face he has no idea how to read, “That’d actually be great, kid, we could use the open bed.”
“Uh, yeah, no problem.”
“You drive today, Robby? Or did you bring the death trap?”
“Drove.”
“You okay if Dennis takes you home? Keeps an eye on you?”
“Mhmm.”
“Yeah, I bet you are,” What does that mean, “Go collect your stuff, kid, while I take him up for his CT. Badge out, you can stay with him until his results are in, and then you can leave.”
Dennis nods, waits until he’s sure Robby isn’t going to go sailing off the bed when he steps away, before fleeing the room. Dana sends him a knowing glance, as he does, and he ignores it because he has no idea what she could be knowing. Badges out, before going to the locker area. Grabs his change of clothes, since he doesn’t really want to be in scrubs if he doesn’t have to be. Changes back into his street clothes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Grabs his bag, heads to the break room. Decides to scarf down the lunch he brought, because he’s hungry and he might as well. Figures he has a few minutes before Robby’ll be back from his CT anyway.
Is halfway through his sandwich when the break room door flies open and Trin comes in. She doesn’t even look at him, just beelines right for the coffee machine. Pours a cup, doesn’t even bother with creamer. Just drinks it as is. Has a feeling she’d be injecting it right into her veins if she could. Spins to face him, leans back against the counter. Looks him up and down, and he tries not to be self-conscious. Hard to do when you’re being stared down while chewing on a sandwich.
“Why are you dressed like that? Machine out of scrubs again?”
“Har har. No. I’m off the clock.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing. I’m, taking Dr. Robby home.”
It’s actually kinda funny, the way she spits out her sip of coffee. Like they’re in a movie or something. Has never seen someone actually do a spit take before. It’s funny. Less funny how she ends up choking after. She waves him off when he rises to pat her on the back. Just coughs a few times, takes another sip of coffee. Blinks at him rapidly the whole time, like she’s having trouble processing what he just said. Which, yeah, is fair, he supposes.
“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?”
“He has a concussion, after that guy shoved him. And he lives alone, needs someone to keep an eye on him. So I-”
“Volunteered?”
“Offered to do it. As a favor to a colleague.”
“And this has nothing to do with the all-consuming love you have for him.”
“I do not, it’s not, no. No, it’s just one coworker looking out for another one.”
“At his house.”
“Don’t make it sound weird. He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t die.”
“Gonna give him mouth-to-mouth?”
“Trinity, stop,” and yes, he knows he’s whining, and no, he doesn’t care.
“You know he likes you, too, right?”
“He doesn’t.” This isn’t a new argument with them.
“There’s literally a betting pool.”
“What?” Okay, well, that’s new information.
“Half the ED already thinks you two are fucking, and this? Is only going to make that number go up.”
“We aren’t, doing that because he doesn’t, it isn’t like that. Not for him.”
Doesn’t deny it’s like that for him because she already knows it is.
“Whatever you say, Huck, whatever you say. Just remember to use protection. And lube, lots of lube.”
“Trinity,” he shouts, face going red, but she’s already out the door.
He can hear her cackling the whole way down the hallway. Takes another bite of his sandwich. Knows that the whole ED will know he’s taking Robby home by the end of the next ten minutes. Not taking him home, that sounds, questionable. Going home with him, no, that sounds even worse. Finishes his sandwich, chugs the rest of his Monster, chucks the trash in the bin. Grabs his bag, goes back to West 14. Carefully avoids making eye contact with anyone, but based on the way Princess and Perlah start rapid-fire speaking in Tagalog when they see him, he’s guessing Trinity has spread the news of him taking Robby, going home with, monitoring Robby for the next twenty-four hours.
Isn’t sure that last phrasing is any better than the other two, if he’s honest.
Robby isn’t back from imaging yet, so Dennis gets comfortable. Slumps into the seat by the bed. Pulls out his phone, checks TikTok. Comments on a couple of Javadi’s videos. Puts his phone away when the door opens, and Dana comes back in with Robby. Rolls him into the room, kicks the door shut behind her. Robby has his eyes closed, hands over his ears. Loud, too loud. Dennis has a second where he wishes he could make it quieter for him. Shakes that ridiculous thought from his head. Stupid. It’s an ED, EDs are loud.
“Front door service,” Dana jokes, bringing the chair to the bed.
“Still not funny.”
“Screw you, I’m hilarious. Come on, up.”
Robby stands up, stumbles a little. Dennis catches him, takes practically his whole weight. Walks him to the bed. Helps him onto it. Robby rolls onto his stomach with a groan, buries his face into the pillow. And he knows, can tell, his face is doing something stupidly fond. But he can’t help it. Concussed Robby is cute, vulnerable in a way Robby never is otherwise. Open and honest in a way he wouldn't let himself be in front of others if he wasn't hurt. Dennis snags the blanket from the bottom of the bed, flicks a wrist, covers him with it. Resists the urge to tuck him in.
“Told you he’s strong,” Robby mumbles into the pillow.
“Yeah, you did,” Dana says back, shooting Dennis that same look from earlier.
Still has no idea how to respond to it, so he pretends once more that he doesn’t see it. Sits back down in the chair. Knows it’s still in the four-hour window, and he shouldn’t let Robby sleep yet. Also knows that the CT will be back within a few minutes. Perk of being the chief of a department, you get your test results back quick. And assuming that it comes back clean, they’ll be off. Figures letting him doze for twenty minutes is fine. If he can snark at Dana, he can doze.
“Keep an eye on him, will ya?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And stop calling me ma’am, makes me feel old.”
“You are old,” Robby mutters from the bed.
“Don’t make me full name you again,” and she’s trying to sound stern, but the fond smile on her face ruins it, “I’ll be back when the results are in.”
Dennis bobs his head, and she leaves. Has no idea what to do while he waits. Decides to do what he’s supposed to be doing. Keeps an eye on Robby. Watches the rise and fall of his back with each breath he takes. The way his left hand twitches every so often, like he’s starting to fall asleep, only to wake up again. Listens to the steady whoosh, heeem of every inhale and exhale. Counts them, respiratory rate normal. Reaches out with one hand, finds his pulse. Counts the beats. Normal there too. Good. Has no clue what to do when Robby shifts, laces their fingers together. Tries to pull away, stops when Robby makes a disgruntled noise. Figures it doesn’t hurt anything. Just shifts his one finger so it rests over his pulse point. There, now he’s helping.
It takes twenty-two minutes for the CT results to come back. No intracranial bleeding, no swelling. Unremarkable, or at least that’s how Dana describes it when she comes in to give them the results. She brings Robby’s bag with her. And he doesn’t even question how she knew his locker combination. She’s Dana, she knows everything. Catches the keys she tosses him while Robby drags himself upright. He looks ready to sleep for a week, which is probably what he will do after his monitoring period is up.
“I got you two days off, kid. Make sure he doesn’t kill himself, will ya?”
“I am an adult, you know,” Robby complains, though his objection is undercut a little by the way he sways in place.
“Uh huh. Alright, get out of here. He parks on the lowest level.”
They manage to make it out of the ED with little fanfare. Can feel eyes on them the whole time. Can only imagine the way the betting pool is going to explode the second they’re outside the door. Yeah, no, don’t think about that. Because thinking about that means thinking about how everyone already thinks they’re, yeah, no. Focuses instead on keeping Robby moving, on getting them out of here. Because the faster they’re out of here, the faster everyone’s eyes will be off him. Wants nothing more than that, right now.
“Have fun, you two,” Abbot calls from the hub, when they’ve about made it to the ambulance bay doors, and Dennis feels his face go red.
“We will,” Robby calls back, and Dennis knows his face darkens at least three shades.
Hears Princess and Perlah break into Tagalog as the ambulance bay doors open and they slip out. Cool, that’s, yeah, awesome. Already knows everyone on the floor will know about that little interaction by the end of the next twenty minutes. Especially when they loop in Trinity, which they will because they always do. Normally, he appreciates that about them, because it means he gets all the good gossip. When the gossip is about him, not so much. All well, nothing to do about it now.
Leads Robby to the car park, clicks the lock button on the key fob in his hand until he finds his car. Opens the passenger seat, helps Robby in. Slides into the driver's seat. Feels his face do something stupid and mushy as he watches Robby fumbling with the seat belt. Reaches across, takes it from his hand. Pulls it out, clicks it for him. Robby sends him a goofy thumbs-up in response, holds out a fist. He bumps his own against it, knows the look on his face would give him away instantly to anyone not concussed. Thankfully, Robby is so he doesn’t notice.
Pulls out of the space, heads towards Robby’s place. It’s been a while since he’s been there. Three, no four, months since he got back from his sabbatical. But he still remembers the way. It isn’t far, thankfully. Robby doesn’t usually even bother driving, just walks. Has no idea what compelled him to bring the car today, but he’s grateful for it. Trying to walk home with a concussed Robby is an adventure he’d rather not have. Robby is silent on the drive, eyes closed. Not asleep, just blocking out the light. Pulls into his driveway. Helps him out of the car, gets him into the house.
Stops him from heading to his bedroom, “No, not yet. Still have another hour before I can let you sleep. Food?”
“Wanna sleep.”
“I know. But not yet. I’ll make you lunch. Come on. Kitchen.”
Robby grouses under his breath, but follows him into the kitchen nonetheless. He shoos him into a chair at the island. Moves around the kitchen like he used to live there, because he did. Finds some canned Alfredo sauce. Searches the fridge for garlic, onion, anything to dress it up. Finds nothing. Does find some powdered in the spice rack. It’ll do. Grabs some shake Parmesan cheese. Finds some chicken tenders, too, and a box of penne pasta in the pantry. He can make it work. Sets some water to boil. Slices and seasons the chicken, gets it in a pan. Cooks it while the water heats up. Throws in the pasta, adds the sauce to the chicken. Adds cheese, spices. Drains the pasta, throws it into the sauce, coats it.
Not the most gourmet thing he’s ever made, but it works.
“Eat,” he commands, putting a bowl in front of Robby.
“’m an adult,” Robby mutters again, but picks up the fork, spears a noodle.
Dennis laughs, packs up the leftovers to have later. Feels Robby’s eyes on him as he moves around. Figures it’s probably weird for him, having someone else in his house who knows where everything is. Who uses his kitchen like it’s his too. Because while he was gone, it was. Nothing’s even moved since he was last here. Everything was exactly where he expected it to be. Even his mug, the one that sat next to the coffee machine the whole time he was gone, is still there. The one Dennis never used cause it didn’t feel right, using what is clearly his favorite mug. “World’s okayest doctor,” wonders who gave it to him. His money’s on Abbot, or maybe Dana.
Robby finishes his bowl, puts his head on the counter after. Dennis checks the time, it’s been four hours. He can sleep now, if he wants. Still needs to be woken up every few hours, but is okay to sleep. Tells Robby as much, who nods without lifting his head. Dennis chuckles, moves to help him stand. Herds him to his bedroom to change, goes to the guest bedroom while he does. Makes sure the bed has sheets, digs out a spare toothbrush. Not that he’s going to bed yet, but he’ll need it later. Better to do it now, so he isn’t making a bunch of noise later when Robby’s trying to rest. Returns to Robby’s room.
“Got you pajamas, figured you didn’t have anything to change into,” Robby tells him, as soon as he enters the room.
“Yeah, no, I don’t, thanks.”
Glances to where Robby points, and spies a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on top of the dresser. Wills his cheeks not to turn red. Do not think about wearing his clothes, do not. Robby nods, satisfied. Flops backwards onto his bed, wiggles until he’s under the blanket. Barely two seconds pass before he’s snoring. Out like a light. And he’s glad that he’s alone, because he knows his face goes all soft and gooey at the sound. Resists the urge to reach out, to kiss his forehead or brush his hair back or something else equally embarrassing. Grabs the clothes from the dresser, exits. Leaves the door cracked, so he can hear if anything happens.
Goes across the hall to the guest room. Changes. The pants are too long, and the shirt hangs on his frame. It’s a reminder that Robby is bigger than him. Not by much, by just the right amount. All right, Goldie Locks, calm down. Flops onto the bed, stares at the ceiling. Does his best not to notice that the clothes smell like Robby. Which, of course, means it’s the only thing he notices. Someone kill me now, just put me out of my misery. Rolls onto his side, grabs his phone. Unlocks it to see a message from Trin.
WE WILL?!?!? get it white boy
Please stop
Never, this is way too much fun
the pool went up by like. So much by the way
Sends a crying emoji, gets a laughing one back. Pauses, debates, sends I am wearing his clothes right now.
NO YOU’RE NOT
did you already get it white boy damn you work fast
NO
NO
he gave them to me to wear
since I didn’t have PJs
Trin they smell like him
gay
thanks for the support
anytime huckleberry anytime
Groans, checks the time. Only an hour has passed. Not time to check on him yet. TV, he’ll watch TV. Creeps from the room, walks as quietly down the hallway as he can. Doesn’t want to risk waking Robby. Not yet anyway. Let him sleep for a bit. Finds the remote on the coffee table, same place it was the first time he was here. Yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Flips on the TV, turns down the volume low enough that he can hear Robby’s snoring from down the hall. So he’ll know if anything changes. Settles on MythBusters, because Trin never lets him watch that. Calls it his old man show.
Makes it through two episodes, checks on Robby. Wakes him up with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Asks him the standard questions: what’s your name, where are you, what day is it, what happened. Is happy with the response, even if Robby isn’t happy about being woken up. Asks about symptoms, headache, dizziness, nausea. Gets the answers he expects, but nothing that raises any alarms. Makes him drink some water, take a Tylenol, before letting him go back to bed. Does tuck him in, this time, because he looks so peaceful, and it isn’t hurting anyone. He’s just doing what he’s there to do. Keeping an eye on him. That’s all.
Goes to the kitchen after, heats up some leftover Alfredo. Eats it on the sofa while he watches more MythBusters. Trinity texts him to complain about the neighbors, something about loud sex. Doesn’t find his response of as if you have room to talk nearly as funny as he does. Goes back into the kitchen, cleans up the dishes from making dinner. Washes them by hand, because it’s something to do to pass the time. Leaves them on the dish mat to dry. Watches another episode of MythBusters, the alligator one, one of his favorites. Decides when it’s over to check Robby once more, before heading to bed himself.
Same questions, same answers, same annoyance at being woken up. Let's him go back to sleep, tucks him in. Doesn’t run a hand through his hair, no matter how badly he wants to. Goes to the guest room, sets an alarm for three hours. Crawls into bed, falls asleep pretty quickly. Wakes up three hours later to his alarm. Silences it, climbs out of bed. It’s around one AM now, and he can hear Robby snoring from the next room over. Follows the noise with a foolish smile on his face. Settles on the edge of the bed, wipes the sleep from his eyes.
“Robby? Robby, wake up. I need to check you again. Come on, just for a second.”
“Mmmm,” the pile of blankets on the bed answers.
“Come on. Just a few questions and then you can go back to sleep.”
“Mhmm.”
Good enough, “What’s your name?”
“Michael Robinavitch, Robby.”
“Where are you?”
“Home, in bed.”
“What day is it?”
“Tuesday,” Wednesday now, but he’ll accept it since it’s barely Wednesday.
“What happened?”
“Hit my head,” Robby says, “You picked me up.”
New addition but not untrue, so acceptable, “Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“Yes, no, no.”
“Okay, good. That’s good. You can go back to sleep now. I’ll come back in a few hours, okay?”
He makes to leave, to stand and go. Intends to pass out for a few more hours before they do this song and dance all over again. Doesn’t get the chance. There’s a shift from the pile of blankets concealing Robby, and a hand appears. Grasps at the sleeve of his shirt. Clutches at him, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. Grabs at him the way a child grabs at their mother’s skirt, all vulnerability and panic. It stops him in his tracks.
“Stay?” A voice questions, and he looks up to see Robby, peaking out from his pile of blankets, a hopeful look on his face.
And because Dennis is an idiot and hopelessly in love and because he’s never been able to say no to Robby ever, he does. Climbs up onto the bed, settles against the headboard. Doesn’t fully lie down, because that feels wrong. Feels like taking advantage. Robby’s concussed, might not fully know what he’s asking for. So he doesn’t lie down, but he does stay. Gets comfortable, leaning back against the headboard. Is not at all prepared for Robby to roll towards him.
Not at all ready for his head to find his lap, for him to curl up next to him. For his head to end up on his thigh, for him to wrap an arm around his leg. Isn’t sure what to do. Doesn’t really get a chance to do anything, because seconds after moving, after wiggling just a little to get comfortable, Robby’s asleep. Snoring, and Dennis can feel each exhale through the material of his borrowed sweatpants. And this, this is going to be what kills him, he’s pretty sure. Without thinking, he reaches out a hand, strokes it through his hair. Smiles when Robby snuffles in his sleep, leans into the touch. Figures it’s fine, nothing that can’t be blamed on the concussion in the morning.
Already knows it’ll break his heart when that happens. Because this is everything he’s ever wanted. Robby, casual intimacy. Everything he’s been fantasizing about for what is probably too long. Because not every fantasy he’s had about the man has involved being bent over, no there’s been ones like this too. Of getting to be that soft place for Robby to land. The hand in his hair, soothing away the day. So he decides to indulge, just a little. Because in the morning, this will be ripped away from him. And maybe that’s wrong of him, to take advantage of Robby’s state to fulfill a selfish want. But he thinks he can be a little selfish, since it’s helping Robby too. And in the morning, he’ll lose this, and it’ll only hurt him, so it’s okay.
Because this doesn’t mean to Robby what it does to him.
Pushes that thought away, decides he can deal with it later. For now, he’s going to enjoy it while he can. Is going to be that comfort for Robby, is going to let himself be selfish and feel guilty about it tomorrow. After he’s gone home, he’ll beat himself up for letting himself gorge on this feeling. For letting himself have something that wasn’t his to have, for letting himself have the pleasure of knowing what this feels like, knowing he’ll never get it again. Ignores the way his chest already hurts to run fingers through his hair, pets him like a cat. Smiles when he makes a happy noise in his sleep. Keeps doing it, because it feels good, for him and Robby.
Doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must. Jolts awake, Robby’s head still in his lap, his fingers tangled in his hair. Eases his hand out, gets his phone out of his pocket. Not quite three hours, oh good, didn’t miss a check-in. Looks down at Robby. He looks, not younger, but more at peace in sleep. Like some of that weight is off his shoulders. Wishes he could look like that all the time. Would happily take some of it from him, if it made it easier for him to carry. Sharing the load and all that. Not that Robby would ever let him. Stubborn idiot.
Must have stared too long, because his eyes open. Has to resist the urge to coo, because Michael Robinavitch, blinking the sleep from his eyes, might just be the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. His brow furrows, for just a second, like he isn’t sure where he is. Rubs a cheek against Dennis’ thigh, makes a sound in his throat. A question without words. Like he’s trying to piece together what he’s lying on.
“You awake enough to answer some questions?”
“Michael Robinavitch. Home, in bed. Tuesday. Hit my head. Headache, no dizziness, no nausea.”
Must be feeling better if he’s triaging himself, “That’s good. You can go back to sleep.”
Robby nods, falls back asleep easily. Dennis figures he can count that as the next check. Sets an alarm for three hours, vibration only so hopefully it won’t wake Robby. Knows it’ll wake him regardless. Hard to get deep sleep when you’re leaning against a headboard. All well, worth it. The wrinkles between Robby’s brows, the ones he was sure were just permanent fixtures, have vanished. Traces the space they usually take up with a light finger. It’s nice, seeing him like this. Knows very few people have. Feels privileged to be one of the ones who have.
Falls into an uneasy sleep. Wakes when his alarm goes off, phone skidding across the nightstand. Silences it before it can wake Robby. Yeah, a night of sleeping sitting up probably wasn’t the greatest idea. But what was he supposed to do, leave. Already knows his back is going to be killing him when he stands up. Makes a mental note to hide it from Trinity so he doesn't have to suffer, got your back broke, huh, jokes. His leg is all pins and needles from the weight of Robby’s head on it for the last how many hours. Worth it. All of it.
The sun’s coming up, light just starting to stream through the curtains. It casts the room in a soft glow, gives it an ethereal quality. Like, none of this is real. Feels that way. Wishes he could live in this moment. With Robby’s head in his lap, both of them content, happy, safe. Wishes he didn’t have to ruin it. Didn’t have to wake him up, didn’t have to lose this. But he does. Knew since the moment he sat down here, this wasn’t going to be something he could keep. Knew it wasn’t something he deserved, took it anyway. Greed always was his sin, if you asked his Pa, or one of them at least. Seems nothing has changed.
“Robby? Time to get up. Have some questions.”
And he’s somehow even more adorable waking up now than he was last night. Maybe it’s because he seems more aware now. His eyes just a little more, there, than they were last night. Like he’s actually fully awake now, in a way he wasn’t before. Still a little hazy, concussion, but more cognizant. He blinks the sleep away, briefly snuggles into Dennis’ leg. And that’s when the awareness must fully kick in, because his eyes snap to Dennis’. Panic, that’s all he can see. Panic, like he’s done something wrong. As if he’s to blame for Dennis’ greed. Tries to scramble away, stops with a pained cry when his head protests.
“Easy, easy. Here,” Dennis soothes, reaches for the water and Tylenol on the nightstand.
Shakes a dose into Robby’s hand, helps steady the glass of water so he can take it. Puts the glass back, the pill bottle too. Doesn’t let Robby pull away like he clearly wants to, just guides his head back to his thigh. Because the last thing he wants is Robby thinking he did something wrong. He didn’t. This is all Dennis’ fault, if it’s anyone’s. Always wanting what isn’t his to want. Robby fights it, gives in after a second. Buries his face back into his leg, makes a sound of pain. Dennis reaches up to play with his hair again. Because he’s greedy, always has been. Wants to be the one to make it better, to soothe the hurt.
“Sorry,” Robby mumbles into his borrowed pants.
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
Hears him say what sounds like, “There is.”
“You were in pain. You wanted to not be alone. I get it.”
“Not why I’m sorry.”
“Oh?”
“Wanted you in my bed,” followed by, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud either. I’m concussed, don’t forget that.”
Doesn’t miss the easy out he offers. The concussion. Pretend I never said that, it wasn’t me, it was the head trauma. Except Dennis is a doctor too, and knows that isn’t how it works. Sure, concussions lower inhibitions. Get rid of filters. But they don’t make you say things you didn’t mean. Which means Robby means it. He asked him to stay because he wanted him in his bed. Is trying to use the concussion as an out, if Dennis wants it. He doesn’t.
“You didn’t mean to say it, but is it true?”
A pause, a clicking sound as he swallows, “Yes.”
Dennis decides to take a chance, “And if I told you I stayed because I wanted to be in your bed too?”
“I’d say I think I hit my head harder than I thought.”
“Not a hallucination.”
“No other explanation.”
“Think there is.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“You want me,” Robby tries to protest, but Dennis doesn’t let him, talks over him, “and I want you.”
Robby shakes his head, hard. Like he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. And yeah, maybe having this conversation when he’s concussed is a little unfair. But without the concussion loosening his tongue, they wouldn’t be having it at all. And Robby’s neuro exams were fine all night; he just has a wicked headache. Knows who he is, where he is, what happened. Isn’t confused about anything. So Dennis doesn’t feel like it’s taking advantage of his state to lay his feelings on the table. Especially since it seems like Robby feels the same.
“You don’t,” Robby insists, lifting his head to look up at Dennis.
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Have for ages now. Ask Santos, she knows.”
“She what?”
“It’s funny, she’s been trying to tell me you felt the same. Looks like maybe she was right.”
“You shouldn’t.”
And Dennis can’t help but notice how he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say you’re misinterpreting this, I don’t like you like that. You have it wrong. Isn’t denying that he feels some type of way about Dennis. Is just saying that Dennis shouldn’t feel that way about him. Which is, patently ridiculous. Because why shouldn’t he. Can think of a hundred things to lov- like about the man and barely scratch the surface. Robby’s still looking up at him, and the pain meds must be kicking in because he isn’t squinting. Doesn’t look like the movement, or the light, hurts anymore. Good, that’s good. Brings a hand up to cup his face, smiles when he leans into the touch a little before he can stop himself.
“Should or shouldn’t doesn’t matter, I do.”
“I’m too old for you.”
“You’re not that old.”
“I have t-shirts older than you. You’re wearing one right now.”
“Hot.”
“Dennis.”
“Michael.”
“I’m your boss.”
“I’ll switch to nights.”
“I’m difficult to deal with. I’m stubborn, I don’t let people in. I, I’ll ruin this. Ruin you.”
And yeah, it absolutely isn’t fair to have this conversation while he has a concussion. Because he knows there’s no way Robby would be being this honest, this open with him otherwise. Can’t help but be a little thankful for it anyway. Because now he knows what the real problem is. Not age, not power imbalance. Robby’s worried he’s going to ruin this by being who he is. As if Dennis isn’t terrified of the exact same thing.
“We’ll cross those bridges when we get there.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I. No use worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. We’ll worry when we have to, and not a moment sooner.”
“It’ll never work.”
“Won’t know unless we try, will we?” Robby opens his mouth, no doubt to protest again, but he doesn’t let him, “Wanna know something about me?”
“What?”
“I’m pretty stubborn too.”
That shuts Robby up. Because he sees it for what it is. I’m not going to let you give up on this before we’ve even given it a try. Raises an eyebrow, because the ball is in Robby’s court now, and they both know it. If he says he doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to try, Dennis’ll respect it. Will leave this house, and pretend this conversation never happened. Doesn’t want that to happen, prays it doesn’t. But if it does, if Robby chickens out of what could be a good thing, he’ll let him. Won’t push, will just walk away. Nothing will change between them at work. Life will continue on as normal.
Well, mostly normal. Because now Dennis knows what it feels like to share a bed with him. Knows what he sounds like when he snores. Knows how his face scrunches when he first wakes up. Knows he won’t forget that, won’t be able to easily move on. Even if Robby decides he doesn’t want to pursue, whatever this is. Knows he’ll cling to the memory, even if outwardly nothing changes between them. Will hold it close to his heart, will keep it alive, even if whatever is between them goes no further than this moment right here.
Robby opens his mouth, closes it, opens it, “We’ll have to disclose to HR.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to keep you a secret.”
“Yeah?”
“They might make you go on nights.”
“We’ll see. Worth it, if they do.”
“Ridiculous,” Robby says, like he doesn’t think he’s worth a shift change.
“Worth it,” he repeats, maintains eye contact.
Enjoys the way Robby’s face goes red, all the way to the tips of his ears. Leans in, presses a kiss to the end of his nose. Grins at the way his face crinkles up like he’s annoyed, even as the red gets deeper. Let’s out a squawk of surprise when Robby tugs him closer by his t-shirt. Presses their lips together. Has half a second to think, wait morning breath, before all he can think is Robby’s kissing me. Kisses him back, and it should be gross cause of the aforementioned morning breath, but it’s not. It’s perfect. Robby pulls back, kisses the end of his nose this time. Beams when Dennis’ face screws up the same way.
Robby lies back down, pulls on Dennis’ shirt until he gets that he’s supposed to lie down as well. Does, because no way in hell is he ever going to say no to that. In fact, if he does assume he’s been replaced by like a pod person or something. Turns onto his side, so he’s facing Robby, who does the same. They both scootch just a little closer to the center, just a tad. And then a little more, and a little more. Until Dennis ends up with his head tucked underneath Robby’s chin. It’s probably the most comfortable he’s ever been ever in his whole life. Can feel each exhale ruffle his hair, turns his head where it rests on his chest until he can hear his heartbeat too.
“Everyone’s gonna freak,” Robby says, voice concerned, like he’s already convinced himself he’s going to be met with torches and pitchforks at his next shift.
“Doubt it. They have a betting pool.”
“They have a what?” Robby all but shouts, winces when his head protests the noise.
“Santos told me about it yesterday. Apparently, half of them already thought we were together.”
“Wha, why would they, what did, what.”
Dennis shrugs, “You do touch me a lot.”
“I do, I do not.”
“Hey, didn’t say I minded. In fact, feel free to continue.”
“Something tells me HR would mind that.”
“Eh, details.”
Robby laughs, and he feels the rumble flow from his chest into Dennis’. Can’t help the giggle that bubbles up at the feeling. Feels an arm come around him, pulling him closer. He lets it, because why would he not. Has been wanting this exact thing for so long, like hell is he gonna refuse it now. Puts his head back on his chest, listens to his heartbeat. The steady whoosh-whoosh. Counts each one, because he can’t help himself. Likes the confirmation that Robby’s okay. Alive and well and in bed with him.
“A betting pool,” Robby scoffs, setting them both off into another round of laughter.
And to no one's surprise, Dana wins the pool, with workplace injury leads to feelings confession.
The woman really does know everything.