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Three more hours.
He only has to make it three more hours.
He can make it three more hours.
He thinks. He’s pretty sure. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. No, no, he can. He has to. Because the ED is slammed today, and they need him. He doesn’t have time for this, he doesn’t. He has patients to see and people to save. Has coworkers to help. He doesn’t have time to deal with this right now, so he just, won’t. He’ll do it later. In three hours, when his shift is done. Has the next two days off, so he can sort it all out after he clocks out.
Three more hours, he only has to make it three more hours.
His appendix will hold that long.
He hopes. He thinks. He prays. He’s fairly confident it will. And yeah, his pain has been getting sharper and more severe all morning which, isn’t good. Has been getting worse for the last day, if he’s honest. But it’s probably fine to wait. Because they’re busy and need him. And yes, he has a low-grade fever. But it’s still low grade, so it’s fine. And okay, so moving hurts, a lot. Which isn’t exactly helping with the nausea, but it’s okay. It’s all okay. Because in three hours, he’ll be done working and can go join the queue to get looked at in chairs, and it’ll all be fine.
Three more hours.
He can do this.
“I am not touching the infected wound in West 13. Did you see it? Barf,” Trinity says as she saddles up next to him in front of the board.
“Mmm.”
“We’ll give it to V, let her work on her stomach of steel.”
“Mhmm.”
“You okay, Huck?”
“Mhmm.”
“Can I get actual verbal confirmation on that, please?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s hot.”
“No, it’s not. It never is. So I repeat, are you okay?”
“Aces.”
“Right. Aces,” Trinity makes a motion that he misses with one hand.
“What’s going on here?” Robby asks as he approaches.
“Picking a new case,” Dennis answers, flopping a hand at the board.
“More like going to be the new case. Something’s wrong with Huckleberry, but he won’t tell me what.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m gonna go handle the colicky baby in Central 11.”
“Hold,” Robby stops him from moving, not that he’d even started yet, “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to keel over,” Trin says, concern clear in her tone.
“I’m fine. We’re busy. Let’s go save some lives, right?”
Walks away before either of them can say anything. Because he knows if either of them gets even the slightest whiff of his currently inflamed appendix, they’ll have him up in the OR before he can say but wait, we can’t be down a doctor right now. Which would probably be for the best, but he isn’t gonna be the reason they’re short-staffed. Knows if he stays there any longer, they’ll realize something’s wrong, really wrong. They both know him well enough, his best friend and his boyfriend. Too well. Will be able to see the sickness lingering if he stays, so he flees. Because they have lives to save.
Three hours, he can make it three hours.
***
He can’t make it three hours.
It’s been one, almost, and he thinks he might be dying.
His fever’s getting worse, he knows it is. The pain in his side is bad enough that even breathing is starting to hurt. The nausea is in full swing, and the various smells that come with working in the ED are not helping. Not to mention that his abdomen is starting to swell. Which all adds up to, nothing good. He knows that. Knows he should tell someone. Anyone. Robby. Trinity. Dana. Fucking, anyone at all at this point. But he still hasn’t.
Doesn’t want to be a burden. Doesn’t want to inconvenience everyone. And it will be an inconvenience. Someone will have to take over his patients. He’ll take up a bed, or, or they’ll have to scramble to find somewhere to put him. Or surgery will have to take him, send someone all the way down here to bring him upstairs. No, no, he should just power through. Not put anyone out. After his shift. He’ll deal with it after his shift. When he’s off the clock, when it won’t be a bother. He can wait that long, he can. It’s fine.
“Dennis? You okay?”
Blinks his eyes away from the board, has no idea how long he’s been staring at it. Long enough for Robby to ask if he’s okay. Long enough for both him and Dana to be looking at him, concern clear on their faces. Turns to face them, can’t hide the wince, the gasp of pain the movement causes. Robby’s moving before the noise is even fully out. Hustling over like someone called a hula hoop. Hands find his face, and he sees his brow furrow. Right, fever. He’s feeling the fever.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not. When did this start?”
“Yesterday, or this morning, or just now maybe? I don’t, I don’t know. It hurts.”
“What hurts?”
He tries to answer, he really does. Opens his mouth and everything. Doesn’t get the chance. Feels a second where the pain fades, where it gets better. And then it doesn’t. Pain, sharp and intense and awful, explodes. Spreads suddenly, rapidly across his stomach. Wants to tell Robby that it’s his side, that it hurts, that it’s worse, that something’s wrong. All that comes out is a cry as he clutches the fabric of Robby's hoodie in his hand. Clings to it like it’s the only thing keeping him from being lost in the wave of agony because it is.
“Dennis? What is it? What hurts?”
Still can’t answer, because he’s hit with a wave of vertigo so strong he has no choice but to do what it wants. Sways in place, feels himself begin to fall to the side. Is caught, by arms. Robby’s arms, he knows they’re his because he’d know them anywhere. Even half delirious from fever and frantic from pain, he’d know. Let’s himself collapse into them because he knows Robby will catch him. He always does. Blinks, rapidly, hopes that that’ll help clear his head. It doesn’t.
“Dennis? Hey, stay with me. What hurts?”
Wishes he could answer him. Could tell him my side or it’s my appendix or I’m sorry I thought it could wait or anything. Wishes he could tell him anything at all. Wishes he could say anything to make that panicked look on Robby’s face as he lowers him to the floor disappear. But he can’t. Because his vision is getting fuzzy, hazy. Closing in around the edges. Wants to warn him, wants to say I’m not dying, just passing out, I’m okay, I promise. Isn’t sure how reassuring it’d really be, if he could say it. But he doesn’t get the chance.
Hears Robby calling, “No, no, no, stay with me, Dennis, stay with me,” before it all goes dark.
***
Wakes confused. Because he’s in a bed, and he doesn’t remember falling asleep in one. Doesn’t remember falling asleep at all, now that he thinks about it. Hears what sounds like a heart monitor. But that can’t be right. Blinks his eyes open. Isn’t in his room. Isn’t in Robby’s room either. Has no idea where he is. And he thinks that should freak him out more, waking up in a room he doesn’t recognize, but for some reason, it doesn’t. Feels pressure on his hand, shifts his head to look. Is greeted by the sight of Robby, asleep.
Right. Robby’s asleep at his bedside because he’s in the hospital. Because he foolishly thought he could just, not deal with his appendix. The fever, he’ll blame that on the fever. Or on doctors being bad patients. Or on him being a stubborn idiot. One of those things, he’ll blame it on one of those things. Reaches out to gently brush Robby’s hair from his forehead. Thinks the lingering anesthesia makes him clumsy, though, makes him miscalculate gentle because instead he just wakes him up. Goes from sleeping in what is probably the world's most uncomfortable chair to sitting straight up, alert, and looking around the room.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he says, voice low, when he notices that Dennis’ eyes are open.
“Hey.”
“Let me grab Garcia,” and is gone before Dennis can even say anything.
“Hey, White Chocolate, how you feeling?” Garcia asks, as she comes back in with Robby.
“Aces.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that. Anyway, you know the spiel so I won’t waste my breath. You’ll be here for a few days on an antibiotic drip since you thought ignoring your exploding organ was a good idea. We’ll get you moved to a normal room as soon as one opens up. Pain?”
“Eh, two.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Ring us if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
She leaves as quickly as she came. Silence stays behind, blankets the room. He has no idea what to say. Feels like he should apologize. Sorry for being a moron. Is that a good place to start? He honestly didn’t mean for it to get that bad. He really thought it’d be okay. Realizes now that that was fucking dumb, and that he one hundred percent knew better. Sorry for putting you through that. That’s probably a better place to start. Can only imagine what seeing him like that did to Robby. Robby, who finds a way to blame everything in the world on himself. Is sure he’s already found a way to blame this on himself, too. As if it’s his fault, Dennis thinks his very existence is an inconvenience to others. No, that’s not his fault. That has his Pa written all over it.
Settles on, “I’m sorry.”
“You passed out. Went totally limp.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We got you in a trauma room. Had no idea where to start, what could be wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” wishes he’d stop, because his voice is doing that watery thing it does when he’s trying not to cry.
“McKay found it, by accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your fever was a hundred and five. You woke up, kinda. Kept saying it hurt, begged me to make it stop.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t make it stop,” and he’s crying now, not even trying to hide it, like he doesn’t have the energy to.
“Baby, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.”
Reaches for him, can’t do anything else. Wants to spring from the bed, wants to wrap him in his arms. Doesn’t, because he knows Garcia will be pissed if he screws up her work. Reaches for him, catches his hands. Tugs and tugs and tugs until Robby gets the hint. It takes some maneuvering, with his IV, but they manage. Robby and him, both in the bed, curled towards the center, towards each other. Stitches up so they won’t pop. Doesn’t think Garcia or any of the other surgeons would love that this is happening. But they can eat it, he doesn’t care. Robby needs him. Pulls the blanket up over them, wraps Robby in his arms as best he can. Holds him close while he cries.
“You wanted me to make it stop, and I couldn’t make it stop.”
“Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re okay.”
“I tried, I tried, I did.”
“I know you did. It’s okay. It’s all okay now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I should’ve caught it, I knew something was wrong.”
And there it is. How did he know. How did he know that his man, his sweet sweet man, was blaming himself for this. Saw it coming a mile away. Saw it coming and yet it still hurts. Still guts him like a rusty spoon. Because it isn’t even close to his fault. He didn’t see it because Dennis didn’t want him to. It’s not his fault he doesn’t have X-ray vision. That he couldn’t see it through his skin. Dennis isn’t blaming him, so he shouldn’t be blaming himself.
“You couldn’t have. I didn’t want anyone to. I made sure no one did.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t want to be a burden,” he says, because it’s the main reason, if he really gets down to the core of it.
“You are never a burden,” Robby all but hisses, tilts Dennis’ chin up to make him look him in the eyes as he says it.
“Old habits die hard.”
“Swear to me you won’t do it again.”
“I swear I won’t hide my appendix rupturing from you again.”
“Don’t joke. I mean it. Don’t, you aren’t a burden. I want to know these things, I want to help you. Tell me next time.”
“Okay, okay, I will.”
“That way, when you pass out, we have an idea of where to start.”
The teasing tone in his voice startles a laugh out of Dennis, an action he kind of regrets when it pulls his stitches. Robby makes a face, a clear sorry I forgot. He makes one back, it’s okay, so did I, I forgive you. Makes sure the I forgive you is clear. Knows if it isn’t Robby’ll feel bad for causing him pain. He tips his head down, places a kiss on the tip of Dennis’ nose. Dennis returns the favor. Wipes the tears from Robby's face with the edge of the blanket. Presses a quick smooch to his lips, too, has to pull away when the heart monitor picks up. That’s embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as it’d be if some nurse came running in here to see what’s wrong, only to find him locking lips with his boyfriend. Sharing a bed is already pushing it.
“Dennis Eloise Whitaker,” Trinity shouts as she enters the room.
“You know that’s not my middle name.”
“Shut up, I’m talking. Never, and I mean never, do that to me again, do you understand?”
“Got it. I will never allow my appendix, which is no longer in my body, to rupture again.”
Robby lets out a chuckle that turns into a cough partway through as he tries to cover it up.
“Dennis Eleanor Whitaker tha-”
“Still not my middle name.”
“I’m still talking, shut up. That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you. Get it?”
“Got it.”
“Good,” she inhales like she plans on continuing to yell, but deflates instead, “Why are you two in bed together?”
“'Cause it’s more comfortable this way.”
“Whatever, you two better have pants on under there.”
And the shade of red Robby turns makes him and Trinity cackle loud enough that a nurse comes to tell them to quiet down.