Archive of Our Own

“Wanna see a trick?”

Dennis’ eyes widen as he shakes his head at Trinity. This was not what he had in mind when she dragged him out for “a quick drink after work.” She ignores him, grinning smugly at the three women sitting around their table.

“Please!” Victoria cheers, her cheeks already rosy from the one shot she downed and chased with a glass of water.

Samira and Mel just nod politely, still not feeling the effects of their drinks. Trinity takes it as her cue to continue, “Huckleberry here has a secret talent.” She thuds him on the back a tad too hard, and Dennis’ drink spills down his arm. He grimaces as he swipes the sticky cranberry vodka off him with the few thin napkins at their table.

“Perfect timing,” Trinity says, not apologizing as her eyebrows waggle. “Show them what you can do.”

Dennis looks around the table at everyone staring at him expectantly. It’s not like he can easily brush Trinity’s excitement off as nothing. Besides, this “trick” was going to happen eventually if they stayed past Dennis’ two drink spending limit. He would’ve liked everyone to be a little less sober to remember it, though.

He sighs as he slides out of the booth and spins around, eyes scanning over the bar, taking in anyone sitting alone or with wandering eyes. There’s a guy in his thirties or forties lingering around the pool tables who locks eyes with Dennis, giving him an appreciative look up and down before turning back to his friends. He tries and fails to appear like he’s invested in whatever one of his friends is saying, too busy watching Dennis out of the corner of his eye.

Target spotted.

Dennis turns back to his friends, rolling his eyes as he unbuttons his shirt further, and they start catcalling him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promises, pushing away from their small booth and making his way to the crowded bar. He lingers around a group of people trying to wave down the bartender, but he keeps his distance enough so nobody will ask if he’s ordering.

He digs his phone out of his pocket, scrolling to his work email of all places and refreshing it a few times. He tries not to get flustered at Dr. Robby’s name making an appearance. It’s just an email about scheduling for the next week, but Dennis can’t help the way his stomach swoops. He shakes his head, trying to focus on his current mission. He moves on to his weather app. There’s a small percent chance of rain tomorrow, but it should lighten up before he gets off his shift, and… yep, the man is approaching him.

Dennis transitions to his texts, typing something random out to Trinity without sending it. He glances up, aiming for casual, then does a double-take when he “happens” to see the older man.

He gives him a small smile but continues typing random things about how soon she thinks they’ll be leaving or if she has any more avocados left when the man clears his throat and nods at his phone. “Your boyfriend being overprotective?”

He’s heard this one once or twice, so he answers with ease, “Something like that, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

“A shame,” the man says, smiling a little wider. He runs a hand over his mustache that’s surprisingly working for him. Dennis is almost upset that he promised his friends that he’d be back soon. “You getting a drink?”

“Was planning on it, but I can’t seem to get ahead of the line.”

The man gives him a charming wink and cocks his head toward the bar. “Let’s see what I can do about that.” He raises his elbow, offering his arm. Seems like he has his own moves. Dennis grins as he takes it, digging his hand into the meat of the man’s bicep appreciatively. He tries not to laugh when the man flexes against him. He elbows through the crowd without issue and gets the bartender’s attention quickly, ordering a Sex on the Beach while winking at Dennis.

It’s a bit cliché, and Dennis would’ve liked to get a drink he’d enjoy, but he’ll take it.

He runs his hand down the guy’s arm, distracting him as the bartender makes his drink. “You’re really something.”

He can see the way the man’s ego inflates, his eyes sparkling with desire. Dennis can already slowly see the red flags, but he’s always been great at this part. “Something you’d like to get to know a little better?” the man asks, leaning forward to whisper in Dennis’ ear, “Maybe in the bathroom?”

Dennis tries not to roll his eyes; he should’ve known. “Tell you what,” he whispers back, eyes on the bartender the whole time. “If you don’t find someone else just as promising in the next thirty minutes, I might just take you up on your offer.”

He scratches his nails lightly against the man’s arm, distracting him as Dennis waves at the bartender, taking the drink from her hand with ease. “See you soon,” he says to the man, using his small frame to weave through the crowd and back to his table.

Trinity starts clapping. “Dennis Whitaker, ladies.”

Samira laughs as she cheers him on alongside Victoria. Mel joins in, shaking her head as she asks, “How’d you do that?”

Dennis shrugs and slides the drink to the middle of the table. He’d give it to Trinity if she weren’t tonight’s designated driver, but Samira luckily takes an interest. “It was an accident the first few times, but—”

“The first few times?” Victoria shrieks, her hands flying up to her mouth as she giggles.

He tries to explain, but Trinity cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “Huckleberry here had never been to a bar before we met, so he had this whole bumbling farmer boy act that the men ate up. Who knew the market was in such demand for our boy?”

Dennis rolls his eyes because, really, he was just curious about how to order a drink, and the men who helped him happened to not be the good Samaritans Dennis thought they were. So, he had taken their free drinks without a second thought and slowly learned how to politely let them down—or, rather, string them on until they found someone more interested. It sounds… worse than it is, but Trinity had told him to hone his talent so he wouldn’t have to waste money he didn’t have.

“I’m not in that much demand. Really, I’ve just learned what moves to make to get the ones who want to buy me a drink to… do it.”

“Please,” Trinity groans, “You could get half of the men in this bar, including the ones who don’t think they swing that way, to buy you a drink.”

Dennis laughs, completely dismissing her. Samira backs him, commenting, “He’s good, but I’m not sure he’s that good.” She holds her hand out to him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Dennis says, tossing back the rest of his cranberry vodka, ready for the conversation to move away from him.

But Trinity leans forward on her elbows and taunts Samira, “I bet you fifty bucks that you could choose any man in this bar, and Dennis could get them to buy him a drink.”

Dennis stomach swoops as he glances at the two women having a stare off. “Hey, what about—”

“Deal,” Samira agrees, holding out her hand toward Trinity.

She takes it with ease and shakes firmly. Dennis waves his hands between them. “Wait, don’t I have a say in this?”

“Nope!” Trinity says with a bright grin, one that screams Don’t argue, and, if you don’t win this for me, I’m going to make it your problem. “Go on, Mira,” she says, gesturing toward the packed bar. “Choose your poison.”

“My poison,” Dennis mutters. He really wishes he were a few drinks deeper than this, but they haven’t been here long enough for him to work his magic. He just hopes whoever they find isn’t horrible and will be quick to get him a drink and even quicker to let him leave.

Mel leans forward, eyebrows furrowed as she glances between the girls and Dennis. “Maybe you should take Dennis into consideration?”

She’s so kind, too kind really. She’s only been out with them a few times since Becca started spending more time with her boyfriend, but she hasn’t quite caught onto Trinity’s particular brand of stubbornness.

Before Trinity can give a dismissive response, Samira gasps with delight. She hits Trinity’s arm multiple times as she points at someone. “I found just the man!”

Dennis watches as Trinity catches sight of the mystery man, her eyes widening. She looks like she’s on the verge of giving up on the bet when she suddenly grins, all cat-like and evil. She gazes over at Dennis, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and pats him on the back. “Oh, my sweet, sweet farm boy. You’re going to make mama proud.”

His nose wrinkles up at her, and his frown deepens as Victoria gasps, “No fucking way.”

When Mel says, “Oh, shit.” Dennis knows he’s in trouble.

He glances around the place, trying to find out who everyone is staring at when Trinity grabs his chin and tilts his head to the left, redirecting his gaze toward the end of the bar. “All the way in the back by his lonesome.”

Dennis frowns and squints at the man hunched over his glass, gazing down into it like it has the answers to—oh fuck.

It’s Dr. Robby.

Dennis shakes his head violently as Trinity pushes him out of the booth. He grips onto the table, but his hand slips in the condensation from their drinks, and he topples gracelessly out of their booth. “You’ve got it!” Trinity says, giving him a thumbs up.

The other girls stare up at him in morbid curiosity as if they’re all about to witness a train wreck they won’t be able to look away from. And they couldn’t be more right.

Dennis is so screwed.

He wipes his palms on his dark jeans and straightens up. He can do this. He can say hi to his boss, talk to him for a bit, make his way back to the table, and say he wasn’t able to get him to buy him a drink. Then, Trinity can kill him with his dignity intact. Or he can discreetly order a drink from the bar, say that Robby got it from him, and lose his license when Robby fires him after that rumor goes around PTMC.

Great, these are great options.

Still, his feet carry him across the bar until he’s standing next to Robby, who still stares into his half-filled glass of beer, eyes distant and sad. Dennis really shouldn’t interrupt him.

“Hi,” he says anyway, voice slightly cracking in a way it hasn’t since puberty.

Robby slowly turns his gaze to him, looking quite unimpressed until he takes Dennis in, and his expression suddenly morphs into pleasant surprise. “Whitaker?”

“In the flesh,” he answers, quite lamely, all while ducking his head as if he’s bowing. God, he can practically hear Trinity cackling at him all the way across the bar.

Robby chuckles. “You alright, kid? Drink too much?”

“No,” Dennis says quickly, although he should’ve said yes because that would be one way to explain the flush on his face. “I…” he stares at him, not sure what to say.

“You…” Robby prompts, grin widening by the second.

Dennis takes a deep breath in to calm himself, but as he breathes out, he confesses, “Trinity made a bet with Samira that I could get anyone in the bar to buy me a drink because I kind of have a knack for it, but Samira chose you, and now they’re watching us, and I’m so sorry.”

His boss blinks at him a couple of times, probably figuring out the least problematic way to fire him or berate him for being so damn unprofessional. He should’ve just said no to Trinity and Samira and killed the vibes for the night; he’d prefer that to whatever Robby is about to say. He can already see the anger bubbling up inside him that’s going to—

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

Dennis stares at him, unblinking. After a few seconds, he manages to ask, “What?”

“I’ll buy you a drink,” Robby repeats, then leans over to pat the bar stool next to him. “But you’re going to have to earn it.”

He’s dead. He has to be dead. Or maybe he’s having a reaction to bad cranberry juice, and he’s hallucinating. He wishes he had cold water to splash in his face, but he settles for pinching himself instead.

Ow.

Okay, maybe he’s not dead. But Robby definitely is not acting right, which is enough of an excuse for Dennis to stay. He has to check on him, right? This has nothing to do with proving to his boss that he deserves a drink. Nope. Not at all.

He ungracefully sits on the barstool next to Robby and swivels to face him, his knee bumping into his as he turns. Robby doesn’t make a move to pull away from him, and Dennis can already feel his heart in his throat. Maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised, though; Dr. Robby hasn’t ever been one to shy away from touching him.

“So?” Robby asks, his shoulders relaxing the longer Dennis stays with him.

Dennis glances around, confused. “So?”

“You said you have a knack for getting people to buy you drinks.” Dennis continues to stare at him blankly. Robby chuckles, shaking his head. “Why don’t you show me some of these moves?”

“Oh,” Dennis says, finally realizing what he’s asking. He turns and glances around the bar, looking for his next target when Robby’s hand lands on his knee, swiveling Dennis back to him.

“I meant show me.”

Dennis swallows sharply as his eyes widen. “You want me to…”

“Walk me through it. I can’t observe your tactics from halfway across the bar, and I doubt you’d have much success if I were hovering over your shoulder.” It makes sense coming out of Robby’s mouth, but he knows he could say quite literally anything to him, and Dennis would agree.

He nods and pats his thighs, trying to hype himself up to walk through flirting with his boss. His eyes dart to the beer on the counter. “May I?” he asks, tilting his head toward the drink.

Robby hands it to him, eyebrows raising as Whitaker gulps down half of its contents in one go. “Is this part of your scheme? Drink most of my drink and force me to get another that you’ll also drink?”

Dennis shakes his head as he wipes his mouth. “Nope, I wouldn’t risk the germs with anyone else. That was me giving myself liquid courage because I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Relax,” Robby says, taking the drink from him with his left hand and patting his knee with his right. “It’s just like if I were to watch you do a procedure.” It calms some of his anxiety. That or Robby’s eye contact acts as a distraction as he seals his lips around the smudged crescent Dennis’ lips left on his glass and drains the rest of the beer.

They’re playing a dangerous game here, and Dennis is finally ready to step up to the plate.

He takes a deep breath, then leans forward, sliding his hands on his knees to steady himself and to gently brush his fingers against Robby’s. He watches Robby’s chest hitch with a sharp inhale. Hook, line, and sinker.

He can do this.

“The first time Trinity took me to a bar, I didn’t know what I was doing,” he explains casually as if he doesn’t notice the effect he has on the older man. “She ditched me to dance with the first pretty girl she saw, and I ended up taking a seat at the bar like this.” He squeezes his fingers and swivels away from Robby to prop his head up on his hand, looking bored.

Robby’s eyes crinkle as he sits back, enjoying whatever show Dennis is putting on. “Did someone join you, or did you sit next to someone?”

“I sat a stool away from an older guy named Michael.” Robby snorts, and Dennis feels himself flush, slowly losing the small bout of confidence he had. “I-It was a coincidence.”

Robby holds his hands up. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. But go on. How’d you get Michael to buy you a drink?”

Dennis shrugs and glances at the drinks lining the back of the bar. “I think he sensed that I didn’t know what I was doing, so he approached me and said hi.” He sees Robby shift closer to him out of the corner of his eye. “I said hello and told him I hadn’t been to a bar before. He asked me if I knew what I wanted to order, and I said no. So, he waved the bartender over and ordered a drink for me.”

Robby scoffs and leans back. “That’s it?” Dennis nods. “That’s hardly a scheme.”

“No, it’s not,” Dennis agrees, giving him a smile. “It became one when Trinity told me to use my inexperience to my advantage, and I learned that a lot of guys have a thing for the damsel in distress type. So, I just… play up the whole lost lamb thing.” He shrugs. “As of today, I have yet to order or pay for a drink.” He puts his hand on the corner of his mouth, loudly whispering, “Besides when Trinity orders for me, and I have to Venmo her.”

Robby whistles low and waves down the bartender. “That’s a hell of a skill, kid.”

“It is until the day I have to figure out how to open and close a tab.”

“May that day never come,” Robby jokes. The bartender makes her way over, and Robby taps his glass, “I’ll take another one of these.” She glances at Dennis, but Robby is quick to say, “Nothing yet for him.”

Dennis’ eyes widen as he looks back at Robby, who just shrugs, looking awfully smug. “I did say you had to earn it, and I’m not impressed yet. Walk me through more of these tactics, and I’ll reconsider.”

Dennis fights a huff. Truly, he isn’t used to working for a drink, but if Robby outside of the Pitt is anything like Robby in the Pitt… He has his work cut out for him.

“Fine,” Dennis says as he straightens up. He cocks his thumb behind him and asks, “See the crowd on the far end of the bar fighting to get a drink?” Robby nods. “I’ll linger outside of them to make it look like I’m trying to get a drink, but far away enough to seem approachable. Then, I wait for someone to approach and ask if I’m getting a drink, and I pretend I’ve tried but haven’t succeeded.”

“Then, they get it for you?” Robby chuckles, his eyebrows rising in surprise when Dennis nods. “And that works?”

“It worked earlier tonight.”

“If you say so,” Robby says dismissively, smiling at the bartender when she approaches. He thanks her and accepts his beer, sipping at it then wiping the suds off his mustache. Dennis’ eyes linger on his facial hair, wondering if Robby would leave droplets of beer behind on his upper lip if he kissed him.

Christ, he needs Robby to order him a drink so he can blame the alcohol for his thoughts.

He refocuses on the task at hand, narrowing down his tactics much like when he’s finding a diagnosis that will appease the man. “If I don’t want to get up, then I’ll wait until my drink is nearly finished and turn my attention to the crowd. I’ll stare down the first person I maintain eye contact with and finish off my drink. Then, I act surprised and pretend I was so enamored by them that I didn’t notice my drink was almost gone. Then, they buy me a refill as an apology for distracting me.” The first time that happened, it had been an accident, but he found he got similar results whenever he reenacted the moment.

Robby narrows his eyes at him, fighting a smile. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I can demonstrate if you buy me a drink,” Dennis quips, gesturing to the empty counter in front of him.

He laughs and leans close enough to lowly tease, “Too easy, Whitaker.” He squeezes his knee as he leans away.

Dennis actually huffs this time, but he finds that Robby’s smile only grows when faced with his bratty side. He files that away for later. “Okay, what about Trinity’s least favorite tactic? Whenever we dance and someone approaches and tries to cut in, I ask them to buy me a drink first.”

Robby shakes his head again. “Not creative enough.” He takes a sip of his beer and lays it between them. The golden liquid catches his eye. Damn, he’s starting to actually get thirsty.

“Go ahead,” Robby says with a nod, “As long as you agree this isn’t me buying you a drink.”

Dennis agrees quickly and takes another sip of Robby’s beer, wishing it were something fruity and sweet, but he’ll eventually get there. He sets down the glass. “I’m okay at pool? That gets me a drink every now and then.”

“And you think that’d work on me?”

Dennis’ heart thuds a little harder. “Pardon?”

“The bet between Dr. Santos and Mohan is that you can get me to buy you a drink. So, I’m waiting on a tactic that would work on me.”

Dennis takes the glass off the bar again, drinking a significant portion as he debates what his life has come to.

“Thirsty?” Robby teases.

Dennis narrows his eyes and slides his drink back to him. “You could say that.”

“The bartender is right there. I’m sure I could walk you through ordering and paying for yourself.”

“I won’t give up that easily, sir,” he promises. He tilts his head to the side and looks him up and down. “I can figure you out.”

Robby snorts and grabs his beer. “That’s cute.”

Dennis blushes but pushes on, switching tactics. “If you were here, and I wasn’t your resident, would you approach me?”

Even in the dim light of the bar, the flush creeping up Robby’s neck is clear as day. The older man scratches the back of his neck as he clears his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

Dennis leans forward. “How can I figure you out if you won’t let me?”

Robby gives him a long look and runs both hands over his face. “Okay, no, I wouldn’t approach you,” admits, not looking him in the eye.

“Not your type?” The question falls out of Dennis’ mouth before he can stop it. He holds his breath as Robby laughs humorlessly, staring into his glass again.

“I’m far too old for you.”

Dennis’ heart skips at the lack of an answer. “That’s never been a problem for me,” he comments, his pulse thudding in his ears hard enough that he has to look away from the man and take a steadying breath. “So, not confident enough to approach, but interested enough to look?” he tries again, which only makes his heart speed up.

Robby takes a sip of his beer and lets his eyes roam over Dennis, making him feel fully exposed.

He takes it as an answer. “So, I would be approaching you after catching your eye a few times. I can work with that.” He shifts in his bar stool as if he’s getting settled into it for the first time and throws all logical thoughts out the window. This is either going to be the greatest or catastrophically worst thing he’s ever dared to do.

Probably both.

He holds his hand out to Robby. “I’m Dennis.”

Robby raises his eyebrows at him, eyeing his hand suspiciously as if he can sense the trap he’s being lured into. Still, he plays along and grabs his hand, squeezing it firmly. “Michael.”

“Michael,” Dennis tries out the name on his tongue as if he hasn’t done this a million times in the privacy of his room. He never dreamt of the day he’d actually be able to mutter the name to his boss, then again, he never dreamt of the day he’d be role-playing with him in a public bar. “What are you doing here alone, Michael?”

Robby’s smile quirks up, still not fully giving into the fantasy Dennis has laid out. “Felt like I needed a drink after work, and I ended up here.” He sips on his beer, eyes peering over the glass as he challenges Dennis to continue.

He does.

“Where do you work?” he asks as if it isn’t a ridiculous question.

“PTMC in the lovely Pitt, but I doubt you’ve ever heard of it,” Michael quips with a wink.

“PTMC,” Dennis breathes out with much admiration. “I tried to match there but ended up at Presbyterian”

Michael chuckles, slowly relaxing into this fabricated reality. “Presb, hm? What rotation?”

“Emergency department.” He’s always been told the easiest lie to tell is a true one, but maybe he should’ve exercised more creative liberty.

“What a coincidence,” Michael says with a wicked grin. “I’m the senior attending of the emergency department at PTMC. It’s a shame that you didn’t match with us; we have a rat problem that I can’t help but think you’d help us with.”

Dennis ducks his head as he laughs. He collects himself enough to lean forward, steadying himself on Robby’s knee. “I don’t know if I’d call it a shame,” he says, sliding his hand up Robby’s thigh slowly, silencing the man’s laughter. “If I were your resident, then I wouldn’t be able to do this with you.”

“Is that so?”

Dennis nods, stopping his wandering hand before he ends up launching himself at the man. “Mhm,” he hums, staring at Michael’s mouth, nearly forgetting what he’s trying to accomplish here.

Robby folds his hand over Dennis’ and leans closer to him. “And what exactly is ‘this’?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” Dennis replies earnestly, his hand turning over to intertwine with Michael’s. He leans forward pressing his cheek into the coarse hair of Robby’s beard as he whispers against his ear, “Just buy me a drink, and I’m all yours.”

Robby separates their fingers, his hand wandering up Dennis’ side, slipping over his bare chest, and over the crook of his neck, threading into the curly strands at the base of his skull. Michael tugs him back until he’s looking him in the eye, gaze darting to his lips as his brown irises slowly give way to black. “You think I’m that easy, Dennis?” he mutters.

Dennis risks sliding his free hand across his upper thigh, fingers digging into his tense flesh. “You tell me, Michael.”

Robby tilts his head, wetting his lips to either kiss him or tell him off. Something Dennis will never know because they’re so rudely interrupted with a loud, “Hey.”

Dennis' eyes dart to the side, taking in none other than the man who bought him his drink earlier. He grins at him proudly while smoothing out the mustache that suddenly isn’t working for him. “You told me to see if anyone else catches my eye in the next thirty minutes, and I looked, but no one seems as promising as you. So, what do you say?”

He offers his elbow again, but this time Dennis is hit with a wave of annoyance. Did he not see the moment he was having with his boss?

“He’s busy,” Michael answers for him, the hand in his hair slipping down to his shoulder. He squeezes tightly, not willing to let him go.

The other man scoffs. “Alright, old man, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“He’s right,” Dennis cuts in sharply. “I’m busy.”

The man’s eyebrows raise, his arms crossing over his chest. “So, you think you can just get a free drink out of me, and I don’t get anything in return?”

“Yes,” Michael says, straightening up on his barstool and using every inch of his height to his advantage. “And if you don’t leave now, I’ll make sure to give you something in return.”

The man scoffs, but there’s a bit of fear in his eyes. He’s dumb enough to ask, “Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Well, first thing you should know is that I’m a doctor, so I know all 206 bones that make up your body. Which also means I know the most common way all those bones can be broken.” The man pales but makes no move to leave. “We can start in alphabetical order if you like? Starting with the calcaneus, which you might know as the heel bone, commonly broken by high falls or motor vehi—”

“Alright, man. You win. Just stay the fuck away from me.” The man doesn’t spare Dennis a glance as he shoulders his way through the crowd and out of the bar.

Dennis turns back to Robby with wide eyes, feeling quite sheepish as he admits, “That’s the man who bought me a drink earlier.”

“I gathered that.”

Dennis lets out a shaky laugh. “I feel like I owe you a drink.” Or literally anything else the man wants, Dennis would give it to him.

“I like the alternative with me buying, but even without the interruption, I’m afraid you haven’t quite sold me.” He brushes him off nonchalantly, turning his bored gaze onto his beer as if he hadn’t been on the verge of kissing him.

Dennis’ hand, still settled on the man’s thigh, squeezes, getting his attention. “Come on, Robby,” he pleads, peering up at him through his eyelashes. “I have other ways I can pay you.”

Robby shifts in the barstool but makes no move to remove Dennis’ hand. Instead, he grabs his drink and shakes his head. “That’s an easy tactic.”

“Yes, and it’s worked every time until you came along,” Dennis complains as he pushes off his leg to lean away from him. He crosses his arms as he watches Robby so casually sip his beer, although he catches a glint of something sharp in his eyes. Dennis' stomach flips as he tries to dissect the emotion. “Unless it is working?” he tries.

“I am far past my prime when it comes to dingy bathroom hookups.”

“Tell that to the last guy I thanked. He had to have been a few years older than you.”

That same look flashes in his eyes while his jaw tightens. “Dennis, you can’t…” he shakes his head and turns back to his drink.

“I can’t what?” Dennis presses, ready to unravel whatever string he found loose.

Robby doesn’t take the bait; if anything, it completely shuts him down. “You should go back to your friends.”

Dennis’ heart sinks, but he can’t help but try again. “I will if you buy me a drink.”

“You’re relentless,” Robby comments with a laugh, not looking at him.

“I’m not above begging,” Dennis desperately adds, truly not wanting to face the music without exhausting all his options first.

Robby huffs humorlessly into his drink. “I’m sure you’re not,” he says under his breath before turning his focus back to him. “But nothing is going to work on me, not while you’re my resident.”

Dennis’ heart lurches, aching for a life he so easily presented to Robby. “So, if I were doing my residency at Presby… that would’ve worked?”

Robby’s eyes soften. “No,” he says, splitting Dennis’ heart in two before he adds on, “Because I need you in the Pitt.”

It’s not the answer he was looking for, but it somehow feels a bit better. But he still wants to know. “Was I close at all?”

Robby glances over him, considering the question for a moment. “Yes,” he eventually answers honestly. “When you first came over here. You could’ve asked me for a drink, and I would’ve gotten you one, no questions asked.”

There’s no way it could’ve been that easy, and yet…

Dennis hunches in on himself, chancing a glance at Robby. “And if I asked now?”

“I’d say you missed your opportunity.”

It hits like a punch in the gut, but Dennis doesn’t make a show of it. He just slides off his barstool, his hand grabbing onto Robby’s knee to steady himself on the way down. “I guess it’s time I learned how to order for myself, but first, I have to let Trinity kill me.” He gives Robby a tight smile as he turns away, ready to face the masses.

But when he turns around, the crowded table his friends were occupying is filled with a new group. He glances around, trying to catch sight of any familiar faces, but he doesn’t see anyone. He digs his phone out of his pocket and sighs at the messages from Trinity.

Trin: something about watching you feel up our work dad didn’t feel right so we escaped!

Trin: please don’t forget to get a drink from him before you two commit war crimes

Trin: and send pictures!!

Trin: ONLY OF THE DRINK FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Trin: we’re at the rave room if you need us

Trin: keep your location on and keep me updated

Trin: no graphic details tho ew ew ew

Dennis sighs and pockets his phone. At least this way, he can get someone else to buy him a drink he can take a photo of, and Trinity will be none the wiser.

“Something wrong?” Robby questions.

He shakes his head but doesn’t look at him. “They ditched me.”

“Ouch.”

Dennis waves him off as he glances around. “They’re not far. Plus, this means I can get a drink from someone random, and Trinity will never know.” He spots a lonely man nursing a scotch at a tall table, watching Dennis out of the corner of his eye. With some purposeful eye contact, Dennis will have him bagged in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

Dennis smiles to himself and turns back to Robby to grab his beer off the counter. “I’ll pay you back later,” he promises as he leans back against the bar as casually as possible and sips at the drink. As predicted, the lonely man locks eyes with him, and he watches Dennis with dark eyes that send a thrill down his spine.

Dennis tilts the beer back, finishing it off as he stares at the man. He pulls it back, frowning at it, then laughing in fake surprise.

The man eats it up, raising his glass at Dennis, who raises his in return and sends him a wink before turning toward the bar. He wonders if he’ll send a refill or if he’ll approach and ask for his order.

He wishes for the latter, wanting his fruity drink before he leaves.

Robby’s gaze burns into his side, but Dennis ignores him in favor of glancing over his shoulder toward his current target, walking his way. Dennis gives him a shy grin, but the man doesn’t return it. His eyes linger slightly to Dennis’ right, and he turns pale, giving something—or rather someone—a single nod before turning around and fleeing.

Dennis glances toward Robby, who is the picture of innocence, but the lingering tension in his jaw gives him away. Dennis crosses his arms as he leans against the bar. “You cost me my free drink.”

“Did I?” Robby asks, looking awfully proud of himself.

Dennis rolls his eyes and leans forward. “I know you think my tactics aren’t good enough, but they are for plenty of people, Dr. Robby. So sit back and let me walk you through this next one.” He looks around, spotting a man whose gaze lingers on him for a few seconds before he looks away, only to repeat the cycle moments later.

Dennis leans over to Robby. “See the taller man wearing the red button down? I’m going to walk over to him and ask for drink suggestions, plant the idea in his head before changing the subject. And eventually, he’ll order us drinks. It’s not creative or clever, but it works.”

He pushes away from the bar and gives Robby one final look, frustrated eyes peering into his. “Have a good night, Michael,” he tries out the name one last time before turning away.

He gets two steps away before long fingers wrap around his wrist and tug him back.

Dennis stumbles into Robby’s chest. He straightens up, glancing up at the man who stares down at him, his jaw tight. He reluctantly looks away from Dennis and sighs before waving toward the bartender. “What drink do you want?”

The question takes Dennis off guard momentarily, but he quickly recovers and answers, “A cranberry vodka.” He ducks his head and adds on, “Please.”

Robby pats his back and echoes his order to the lady. She grins at Dennis as she grabs a glass and a bottle of vodka, tossing her head toward Robby. “Finally wore him down?”

Dennis can feel a deep blush settle on his cheeks as he glances at the older man. “Apparently so.” When she finishes his drink and slides it to him, he takes a generous sip, groaning appreciatively at the sweet taste. It tastes better than usual, probably because he had to work for it. Or maybe because Robby got it for him.

Probably both.

“Good?” Robby asks, smiling tightly at him.

Dennis tilts back the glass, maintaining eye contact with Robby as he drains half of it in one go. It goes down easily, almost quenching his thirst. He sets the drink down on the bar and steadies himself with a hand on Robby’s knee. “What do you think?”

Robby raises his eyebrows. “I think I’m going to regret buying that for you.”

“Don’t worry,” Dennis says, grabbing his drink again, resting in the space between Robby’s legs. “I can always get Red Button Down to get the next one.”

That same sharp emotion crosses through Robby’s entire being, and Dennis finally confidently places it. He laughs into his glass. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous,” he confesses, staring into his drink. He looks up and clarifies, “The first time.”

“So, you were the second time?” Robby asks, tilting his head.

“I was figuring it out. But what I’m trying to say is that it wasn’t a tactic, so I’m not sure I earned this,” Dennis says, holding up his nearly empty glass.

Robby shakes his head. “You’ve earned it plenty, kid.”

The drink isn’t that strong, but Dennis pretends that the small amount of vodka is enough for his next move. He goes for the kill, glancing up at him through his eyelashes as he asks, “What more can I earn, Dr. Robby?”

A series of emotions crosses over Robby’s face, too fast for Dennis to truly register any of them. He’s not sure what to make of the way Robby shakes his head and digs his wallet out of his pocket, but it doesn’t seem like a good sign. Especially when he slips a fifty-dollar bill out and hands it to Dennis. “I’m going to call it a night, but this should cover you for the rest of the evening.”

Dennis stares down at the bill as Robby waves the bartender over one final time and closes out his tab. He slips his hands around Dennis’ waist, moving him back so he can slip off his bar stool. “Have a good night, Whitaker.” He gives him one last squeeze before departing.

Shit shit shit. Maybe he pushed too far.

Dennis tosses the rest of his drink back quickly, slamming the glass on the bar as he hurries after Robby, latching onto his boss’s arm. “Wait, I-I don’t know how to order,” he stammers out, looking for an excuse to get the older man to stay a little longer.

Robby’s eyes soften, but he dismissively replies, “You’re smart; you’ll figure it out.” He slips out of Dennis’ grasp and walks away.

He can’t help but follow him. “But I only earned one drink from you. Not this,” he says, holding up the bill.

“Take the win, Whitaker.”

“I can’t if I don’t deserve it.”

“Pretend that you do.”

“Michael—”

Robby stops in his tracks and turns to him, ducking his head to mutter, “While you’re still my resident, you can either call me Dr. Robby or Robby. Okay?”

“I’m not your resident now that we’re outside of work,” he’s quick to argue.

Robby runs his hands over his face and groans, “I knew I’d regret buying you that drink.”

“But you still did.” Robby turns away and makes his way to the exit with Dennis on his heels. “All I’m saying is there’s a reason you did.”

“Because you’re quite persistent,” Robby lies, pushing the door open for the two of them and making his way down the street.

Dennis follows after him, rubbing at his arms. It’s colder than he remembers, and he suddenly feels like an idiot for unbuttoning his shirt. He reaches up to fasten a few buttons, but it doesn’t help much. At least the small bit of alcohol running through him keeps him slightly warm.

Robby gives him a double take and sighs as he unzips his hoodie and pushes it into Dennis’ hands. When Dennis doesn’t take it, he explains, “I run warm, and you look like you’re about to get hypothermia.” He presses the warm fabric into his hands one final time.

Dennis takes the invitation and tugs the jacket around himself. God, he wants to live in the warm green fleece forever. “Thanks,” he says, slipping Robby’s money into his jacket pocket, intent on giving it back to him. 

His boss nods at him, looking thoroughly distracted by the sight of Dennis in his clothes. He reaches out to presumably adjust something, then sharply takes his hands back, stuffing them into his pockets as they continue walking.

A frown tugs at Dennis’ lips as he stares down at himself. “Is something wrong?”

“With me? Yes,” Robby answers quickly, speeding up his pace.

Dennis shakes his head as he tries to keep up with him. “All you did was buy me a drink, Dr. Robby. That’s hardly grounds for anything… untoward.”

“Untoward?” Robby huffs in surprise.

“Indecent, improper, inappropriate…” Dennis lists, always trying to prove himself to the man.

“I know what untoward means,” Robby sighs. He finally stops and turns to Dennis, getting a look on his face similar to whenever he’s about to lecture someone about patient satisfaction scores. “You understand that tonight was a huge misstep on both our parts, correct?”

“How so?”

Robby’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “You’re my intern, and I’m your senior attending. I should know better than to entertain the idea of getting you a drink. And you should know better than trying to seduce your boss.”

“Seduce you?” Dennis asks, voice high and catching the attention of multiple strangers passing by. He feels his defensive hackles rise. “You’re the one who told me to earn my drink by finding a tactic for you.”

“Which was a mistake,” Robby bites out. Dennis steps back, not used to his boss’s harsh tone being turned on him. “You never should’ve approached me.”

“And you never should’ve invited me to stay.”

Robby nods a single time. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

Dennis watches him walk away, feeling something akin to panic crawling up his chest. This isn’t how this night was supposed to end.

He races after him and stops in front of him, holding his hands out. “Wait, just…” he huffs, catching his breath. He straightens up and holds out his hand, his eyes pleading for Robby to comply. “I’m Dennis. An R1 from Presby who’s just a stranger to you, and I would love to get a drink with you.”

Robby ducks his head, not looking him in the eye. “Don’t do this to me, Whitaker,” he whispers tightly.

“I’m not doing anything,” he lies, hoping the man will join him in this fabricated reality. He goes for a low blow and adds on, “But if you don’t take me up on my offer, I’m sure Red Button Down will.”

Robby only shakes his head, not giving in.

“Okay,” Dennis admits, dropping the act and scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fine, I’m trying to… I don’t know. I-I don’t have any tactics or tricks or whatever when it comes to this. But I don’t want to pretend like this was a mistake.” He pauses when he notices a group passing by, giving them weird looks that Dennis doesn’t blame them for in the slightest.

He presses on, trying not to care, “I don’t want to keep thinking about what would have happened if I were Dennis from Presby and you were Michael from PTMC.” Robby says nothing, so Dennis pushes on. “Or maybe I do.” He takes the smallest of steps forward and lowers his voice. “You said that tonight was a misstep, and you’re right, it won’t happen again. But the night is young, and I’m okay with fully fucking this up or pretending to be someone I’m not if that means I can have you just this once, although I’d rather have you a lot longer.”

Robby clasps his hands behind his neck as he shakes his head. “You’re drunk, Whitaker. You don’t mean any of this.”

“Two cranberry vodkas that were more juice than alcohol and maybe a glass of your beer aren’t enough to get me truly drunk.”

His jaw tightens as he lectures, “It might not be, but that’s, at minimum, three hours before you’re truly sober.” Robby sighs and drags his hands over his face. “Look, we have a shift tomorrow, and I need my doctors in their best shape. So, use the fifty to get you and your friends an Uber home. And we can pretend this never happened.”

“No.”

Robby’s gaze remains fixed on the ground. “I’m not asking, Whitaker.”

“And I’m not agreeing, Michael.” He crosses his arms and stares at him, willing him to look at him. But the man’s eyes remain steadfast on the concrete. Dennis sighs. “Fine, I’ll get everyone back home if you agree to talk about this tomorrow.”

“I can’t promise that conversation will have the outcome you hope it will.”

“I don’t care as long as you don’t tell me to throw this under the rug again.” He drags a hand over his face when Robby doesn’t respond. “Just… will you promise to talk to me?”

Robby finally looks him in the eye, and his entire demeanor gradually softens. He nods a single time. “I promise,” he says quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants as his eyes evade Dennis again. “You said you were with Dr. Santos and Mohan. Where are they now?”

“They should be with Mel and Victoria at the Rave Room.”

Robby nods. “I’ll walk you there.”

Dennis doesn’t let his surprise show, but he doesn’t protest or push, especially when Robby’s hand comes up to lightly settle on the curve of his back. He digs out his phone and sends Trinity a text.

Huck: Still at the rave room?

She responds quickly.

Trin: leaving now

Trin: where are you? still with the boss??

Trin: how many drinks did you get out of him 😏

Huck: We’re walking your way now

Trin: ok non answer

Trin: warning: vic has reached full rag doll state

Huck: Looking forward to it

He sighs and puts his phone away. He’ll have to use Robby’s money to get Trinity’s car cleaned.

“Did they ditch you again?”

“No, Victoria drank too much.”

Robby frowns. “Do I need to call her mother?”

“God, no,” Dennis rushes to say, knowing Vic would kill him if he did. “She’s gotten better at finding her limit, but she still throws up nearly every time we go out.” He spots Trinity a few blocks away and grabs Robby’s hand, tugging him along. “Come on.”

He makes his way to the group quickly, wincing when he notices Victoria practically falling asleep on Trinity’s shoulder. But with some weird sixth sense, her eyes suddenly blink open, and she grins widely at Dennis. “Denny!” She giggles, then frowns when she sees Robby. “Why are you holding hands with our boss and wearing his jacket?”

Dennis drops Robby’s hand quickly, his cheeks turning red as his friends stare at him. “I heard you drank too much,” he deflects, peeling off Robby’s jacket when he suddenly feels too warm.

“I’m fine,” Victoria slurs, waving him off, but the motion makes her head lull to the right, and she suddenly looks a little green.

Robby steps forward, but Dennis holds out his arm, letting Trinity and Samira guide the girl to the nearby bushes with practiced ease. Mel winces and covers her ears while Robby ducks his head and mutters, “You’re sure I don’t need to call anyone?”

“I’m sure,” Dennis says, suddenly feeling very sober. He looks up at him, holding his jacket out. “We’ve got this if you want to escape while you can. But we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Robby nods. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises quietly, pushing the jacket back to him. “Keep it in case you get cold again.” Dennis swallows tightly as Robby straightens up and addresses the group. “Please get home safe, and don’t come into shift tomorrow too hungover.”

“Your wish is our command, Captain!” Trinity calls out with a sarcastic salute.

Dennis sighs and glances up at the man. “You get home safe, too, okay?”

“Okay,” Robby agrees with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, nodding at the group one more time before turning and walking away for the night.

When he’s out of sight, Samira excitedly asks, “Well? Who won and who lost?”

“I’m pretty sure the answer to both of those is me.” The group frowns at him, and he waves them off. “I’ll explain later. Let’s just… get home.”

They walk back to the car, only stopping a few times whenever Victoria refuses to keep walking. Dennis eventually sweeps her into his arms and carries her the rest of the way, getting catcalled by the group. His stomach churns as he remembers their first cheers of the night before everything went to shit.

If only he knew then what he knew now.

When they load the girls into the back and finally get the car started, Trinity turns to Dennis and frowns, glancing over him. “You okay?”

Dennis shakes his head. “I’ll figure that out tomorrow.”

“Did you two…” she trails off, raising her eyebrows.

“No.” He winces when it comes out too high and fast, sounding overly suspicious. He sighs and confesses, “I think something would’ve happened if we hadn’t been interrupted, and maybe if I didn’t push so hard after. But—”

“Wait, you and Dr. Robby hooked up?” Victoria shrieks from the back, reminding Dennis that they have an audience.

“No,” Dennis insists again, turning around to look her in the eye. “Nothing happened; he made sure of it.”

Victoria pouts and leans her head on Samira, who gives him a similar pitying look. Mel leans over, offering him a small smile. “That’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees, turning back to the front. “It doesn’t feel like it, though.”

A sad silence falls over the car, and Trinity clears her throat as she starts driving.

A few minutes later, when the girls in the back are all asleep, Trinity quietly asks, “You’re not going to get fired or anything, right? I mean, he did walk you to us.”

Dennis sighs, closing his eyes as he lets his head fall back. “I don’t know, Trin. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

Tomorrow comes sooner than Dennis would have liked. He’s not hungover in any way, but he’s still not quite ready to face the music. But if this is his only chance to get Robby to hear him out, he’ll take it.

After a long pep talk he hopes the other girls don’t overhear, he walks into the ER, intent on having his promised conversation as soon as Robby meets his eye.

But when he and Robby make eye contact, the man simply ducks his head and walks in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” Dr. Abbot calls after him. “I was still talking, asshole.” He glances Dennis’ way and whistles low, his eyes falling over the group with him. “Looks like day shift had an eventful evening.”

Victoria groans, “I’m never drinking again,” as she passes the older doctor. Trinity pats her on the back and leads her away from the central hub.

Dennis follows, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He glances back at Abbot in surprise.

“I heard you had a particularly eventful evening, Dr. Whitaker.”

The younger doctor flushes red, mouth opening and closing, wanting to explain himself without knowing how.

Luckily, Abbot continues before Dennis can put his foot in his mouth. “Be gentle on him. He’s not one to accept that good things can happen to him.”

His heart skips a beat as he glances around, making sure no one is overhearing this conversation. A small part of him is shocked that Robby disclosed so much of last night to the man, but he has to know. “You think I’m a good thing for him?”

“From what I’ve seen and heard, yes.” He bends down slightly. “But as his best friend, you'd better be,” he threatens lowly, patting him on the shoulder and smiling as someone passes by, trying not to trigger any alarm bells. Dennis swallows hard. “Good talk, Whitaker. And remember to take care of yourself; this particular patient is quite difficult.”

“Will do, sir,” he says with a nod, walking away as quickly as he can get away with.

He gets through the rest of shift change with his blood pressure more elevated than usual, but he reassures himself that he’ll be fine. He just needs to talk to Robby.

This proves to be more difficult than planned since the man dodges Dennis' every attempt to get him alone. The one time he manages to corner Robby, the universe seems to be similarly working against him, and a new trauma comes in before Dennis can get a single word in.

He’s about to give up on ever getting that talk in when he’s pulled into a patient’s room, doing a double take at the familiar face he can’t quite place. “I’m Dr. Whitaker,” he introduces himself as he looks over the man’s chart, trying to remember how he knows him but not recognizing the name. “I see you’re in here because you’re experiencing some discomfort walking after taking a fall. How’s the pain?”

“Fine,” the man says, staring at him with a small grin as if he knows him.

Dennis tries not to appear as unnerved as he feels. He does not succeed.

The patient narrows his eyes at him. “Sorry, were you at the bar over on Third last night?”

A tingle of panic goes down his spine; he can only hope the man doesn’t remember seeing him with Dr. Robby. “Uh, I was in the area. Is that how you hurt your ankle?”

“No, I took a tumble down my front steps this morning.” The man sits up in the bed a little further. “You were wearing a black shirt unbuttoned nearly to your navel,” the man chuckles. “I was wearing a red button down. You might not remember me, but I certainly remember you.”

Red Button Down.

This is not good.

“Everything okay here?” Robby asks as he happens to pop his head in with incredibly poor timing.

The man loudly laughs and points at him. “Wait, you were there, too! Am I being punked right now?”

Dennis gives Robby a wide-eyed look and nods toward the door, trying to signal for him to leave while he can.

Robby, of course, doesn’t listen. “Where was this?”

“The bar last night.”

Dennis swallows and gives him a pointed look. “He was wearing a red button down.”

A look of recognition passes over Robby’s face, along with a flash of that same sharp jealousy from last night. “Well,” he pulls his glasses out of his pocket and glances at his chart, “Mr. Dillard, why don’t we look at that ankle?”

It’s quite literally the quickest exam Dennis has ever experienced, and Robby himself wheels the man to get his X-Ray and returns before Dennis has finished charting the first part of the exam. “It’s Mr. Dillard’s lucky day, Dr. Whitaker. They took him in immediately, and I was able to look at the imaging right away to determine that this is a simple second-degree sprain.”

Dennis’ eyebrows furrow as Robby claps the man on the arm and explains, “Rest, ice, compress, and elevate for the next 24 to 48 hours, and try not to put any weight on it. Take any over-the-counter painkiller, such as Ibuprofen, as needed. If your pain worsens over the next few days, you should visit Presbyterian; they are experts when it comes to ankle injuries.” He crosses his arms. “Any questions?”

Dennis takes a step forward to try to stop this madness, but Robby merely steps in front of him, blocking him from the man’s view.

“Um, no,” the man says, glancing around Robby toward Dennis. “But I was wondering if I could buy you—”

“Let’s continue this conversation in the ambulance bay. The Uber I ordered for you should be here by now.”

“But I drove here,” the man says with a frown as Robby wheels him away.

Robby shrugs. “I suggest you get someone to help you pick up your car then.”

Dennis can only watch as Robby closes the door behind them and speeds through the busy ER. When they’re out of sight, Dennis takes a deep breath. He can only hope the man doesn’t sue Robby for inadequate care.

He’s finishing his chart when the door opens behind him. He jumps when the curtain is yanked shut.

“Okay, Whitaker. You wanted to talk? Talk.”

Dennis slowly glances over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

Robby crosses his arms. “I was going to wait until after our shift, but you’ve decided that this was more urgent.”

He frowns. “Are you implying I purposely took Red Button Down—”

“Mr. Dillard.”

Dennis sighs and corrects, “Mr. Dillard as a patient because I wanted to jump-start our conversation?”

“Was that not your intention?”

He shakes his head as he fully abandons charting so he can turn to face him. “No, I didn’t even recognize him at first.”

Robby scoffs. “You certainly pretended like you would last night.”

“Last night I was trying to make you jealous,” Dennis insists, taking a step closer to him.

“And today?”

“Was merely a coincidence. Jesus, I hardly uttered a word to the guy. I’ll probably forget his name by the time this shift is over.”

Robby shrugs as he inches closer to him. “Then how do you explain him wanting to buy you a drink?”

“He simply recognized me from the bar!” Dennis throws his hands up in frustration. “It’s not like I used one of my tactics in the middle of the ER.”

“Maybe I just stopped you from doing it again.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to argue with me so you can avoid this conversation,” Dennis bites out, fully invading his space.

Robby pauses as he swallows and looks away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing, Robby?” Dennis questions quietly, the fight leaving him.

The older man takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale as he explains, “I’m trying to show you that whatever fantasy you have of me in your head is never going to live up to who I really am. That it doesn’t matter if you’re Dennis from Presby or not, because I’m going to be Michael from PTMC, who is beyond fucked up. In fact, he’s so fucked up that he wants his resident who is nearly half his age.” He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips. “You’re young, and you have so much life to live. Even if it’s just one night, I’m not going to let you waste that time on me.”

Dennis stares at him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to decide if how I spend my time is a waste or not. As far as I’m concerned, every moment we spend not pursuing what’s right in front of us is a waste. And I don’t care if you live up to every fantasy I’ve ever had or not because no matter how fucked up you are, I choose you.”

“You’ll regret choosing me.”

“Only if you let me,” Dennis pleads, his hand flattening out over his heart, feeling the steady, quick beat. “Just give us a fair chance, that’s all I’m asking.”

Robby shakes his head. “You’re so young, Whitaker, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m nearly thirty years old, for Christ’s sake. If I can intubate a man, I can decide who I want to date.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You said that when you thought I was drunk. Now I’m sober, and you still can’t accept that I mean what I say?”

Robby ducks his head. “I can’t accept that you want me.”

"Well, I do."

"No, you don't."

“Jesus Christ, Dr. Robby. Just give me a solid yes or no. Do you want to pursue something with me or not?” He waits, trying to get any indication of an answer, but Robby refuses to give him anything. He waits a full minute before finally giving up.

Dennis sighs and steps away. “Fine, have it your way. But you can’t be upset when I go to the bar tonight and get a drink from someone else—including Mr. Dillard.”

Robby merely glances up, his sad eyes landing on Whitaker. “Okay.”

Dennis waits a few moments for any sign of regret, but Robby holds his ground. “Okay,” Dennis echoes, walking back to the computer and finishing the last part of the man’s chart. He closes it and finds Robby still standing in the middle of the room, but Dennis doesn’t entertain the idea of pleading his case anymore. He merely walks past Robby and pulls the curtain open. “I’ll return your jacket next shift.”

He pushes the door open and walks out, asking the first person he sees where Trinity is. He goes off in the direction Jesse tells him and finds her trying to catch up on charting.

“Bar tonight,” Dennis says, not caring when she looks up at him, annoyed that he’s interrupted her.

Her expression quickly morphs into concern when she sees the look on his face. “I take it the talk didn’t go well?”

“I’ll pay for the Uber home,” Dennis says as he walks off, which is enough of a response for her to get the point. Really, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants to get through the rest of his shift.

He manages to get by, and Robby dodges him as much as he professionally can. Sure, there are a few traumas where they can’t entirely avoid each other, but Robby seems to have the whole avoiding a coworker thing locked down. Dennis almost wishes he had agreed to pretend that nothing ever happened rather than get the cold shoulder from him, but he’ll survive.

When shift change comes around, Dennis watches Robby and Abbot’s whispered conversation, satisfied by the way Abbot’s face contorts into disbelief and frustration the more Robby talks. Dennis doesn’t get to see the end of the conversation because he gets pulled away to hand off the last of his cases to Dr. Shen. But by the time he’s getting back to charting, Abbot and Robby are long gone from their spot at the central hub.

He heads to North and takes the workstation next to Trinity, relaxing when he—thankfully—doesn’t find Robby in the vicinity.

Trinity glances up at him a single time. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” Dennis says as he scans his badge.

“Fair enough.”

They finish up quickly and head back home to change. They’re back at the bar before Dennis knows it, and he tries not to feel any way about the empty end of the bar he and Robby occupied the night before.

There’s a group gathered toward the stage on the far wall of the place, waiting around as karaoke night begins.

“Trinity?” A girl asks, breaking away from the group when they walk by.

Trinity lights up as she greets her, and Dennis can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s going to abandon him for the night.

“Do you want to do another duet with me?” the girl asks, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

Trinity glances toward Dennis, looking only slightly torn by the question.

Dennis shakes his head with a small smile. “Go. Have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Trinity asks, giving him a once-over and looking unconvinced. She relaxes slightly when Dennis nods. “Okay, but call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone on.”

“I will,” Dennis calls after her as she disappears into the crowd. He sighs as he glances around, looking for someone to entertain him for the night. But his stomach churns at the thought of getting drinks from someone other than Robby.

He glances at the empty end of the bar again. He still has the fifty dollars Robby gave him burning a hole in his wallet. He’d considered returning it to Robby earlier at work, but he’d missed his opportunity. But by now, he thinks he deserves it plenty.

Dennis sighs and makes his way over to the empty section, sitting on the same barstool from the previous night. He glances at the bartender, wincing when he notices it’s the same lady from the night before. She does a double-take when she sees him and leaves the busy end of the bar to come his way. “Back again?”

“It seems so.”

She hums, grabbing and polishing a glass. “Michael didn’t come back with you?”

“No.” He pauses and frowns. “Wait, you know him?”

She shrugs and grabs a few bottles from the stocked bar behind her. “He’s a regular here. I’ve never seen him buy anyone a drink before last night, though.”

“Oh.” Dennis stares at the empty seat next to him. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you should also know that he’s had many people try to ask him before. But he’s always been able to easily turn them away.” She tilts her head at him. “So, what makes you so special?”

Dennis feels a blush rise on his cheeks as he explains, “There’s nothing special about me. I just work with him.”

“So, you’re just coworkers?” she asks, lining up and pouring a long line of shots.

“Something like that, but, really, he doesn’t want to pursue anything with me.”

“Really?”

Dennis nods.

The lady grabs her tray and snorts, glancing over Dennis’ shoulder as she says, “Tell him that.”

Dennis frowns at her, about to ask her what she means when the seat next to him becomes occupied. He’s about to turn whoever it is away until he looks their way, taking in the sight of Robby still in his scrubs, cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath as he stares at Dennis.

Dennis squints at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t an old man want a drink?” Robby scoffs, chest still heaving.

Dennis leans forward, watching him carefully. “Dr. Robby, are you okay?”

A bead of sweat falls down his forehead as Robby nods. “I’m fine.”

Dennis reaches out, pressing his fingers against the pulse point on his neck, feeling the concerningly fast rhythm. He slides off the chair and grabs Robby’s arms. “Robby, we need to get you to the ER.”

Robby stubbornly stays in his seat as he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Your pulse is elevated, you’re flushed and sweating, and you’re breathing quicker than usual. Unless you ran here, we need to get you to the Pitt.”

“We don’t need to go to the Pitt, Dennis.”

“Dr. Robby, you’re not thinking stra—”

“We don’t need to go to the Pitt because I ran here, okay?” Robby says, reaching up to grip Dennis’ shoulders. “I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Why would you run here?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone else to buy you a damn drink,” Robby growls.

Dennis’ heart thuds against his ribcage as hope begins to stir inside him. “What?”

“I’m not okay with you getting a drink from someone other than me. Dammit, Whitaker, I would rather give you access to my entire bank account than let another man pay for your drink again.” His eyes trace over the empty bar in front of them. “Please tell me there’s nothing coming for you.”

“There isn’t,” he promises, not sure what else to say.

Robby drops his chin to his chest, breathing out a sigh of relief. He slowly looks up at Dennis, his hands sliding up to his shoulders. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it in time.”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Dennis fires back. He steadies himself between his legs, resting his hands on his knees. “What changed in the past hour?”

“I’d like to say that I finally got my head out of my ass after Jack painted quite a colorful picture for me...”

“But?” Dennis prompts.

Robby sighs and confesses, “After you left, Red Button Down came back asking for you, and Jack had the fucking nerve to tell him you were going to be here.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Something snapped in me, and I just… knew that I shouldn’t have let you go. And, trust me, I don’t know what you see in an old guy like me, but you’re right. You’re allowed to decide what’s a waste of your time, and if you don’t think it’s me, then I’ll take what you’ll give me.” He ducks his head as he looks him in the eye. “And I’m going to try as hard as I can to not make you regret it.”

Dennis nods as he slides his hands up his thighs, trying to get as close as he can to the man. “I’ll give you everything,” he promises. “I lied before when I said if you got me a drink, I’d be yours.” He rises on his toes, nudging his nose against Robby’s. “Because I’ve always been yours, drink or no drink.”

He leans forward, intent on finally closing the distance between them, when a man loudly clears his throat, interrupting them.

Dennis glances to his left, taking in none other than Red Button Down staring at him expectantly. “Respectfully, Mr. Dillard. Fuck off.”

The man’s jaw drops as he takes a shaky step back. “I went against medical advice to see you, you know?”

“Great,” Robby comments gruffly. “Presby will be glad to see you; good luck with your insurance coverage, though.”

The man stares between the two of them, eyes landing on Dennis expectantly. Dennis only blinks at him until Red Button Down shakes his head. "You're both horrible doctors," he comments lamely, then limps away, flipping them off for good measure. Dennis tries not to laugh.

“He’s really going to help with our patient satisfaction scores.”

Robby turns to Dennis sharply, not laughing at the joke. “I thought you weren’t going to remember his name,” he complains, jealousy thick in his tone.

“Whose name?” Dennis questions, hands squeezing his thighs. “The only name I know is Michael Robinavitch,” he says cheekily.

Robby chuckles at the line, but his eyes soften. “Good.” His gaze dips to his lips. “Now, can I finally kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Dennis says with a grin as he leans in. “As long as you buy me a drink after.”

Robby shakes his head as he drags Dennis toward him. “Deal.”

The first press of his lips against Robby’s is pure bliss, and he immediately knows he’d try every scheme in the book to get to kiss him again. But luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Dennis tugs at the collar of Robby’s scrubs, pulling him in closer and groaning when Robby’s hands move to thread into his hair. Robby takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tasting like the nicotine gum he sneaks at work and something that’s so purely Robby it drives Dennis a little crazy.

He tries to seek it out, completely melting into him until Robby pulls away to catch his breath. “Michael,” Dennis whines against his lips, moving forward to kiss him again.

Robby ducks his head and chuckles, “We’re in public, Dennis.”

“I don’t care.”

Robby’s eyes dart to the side, and he flushes. “Well, I think Dr. Santos cares.”

Dennis glances over his shoulder, finding Trinity staring at the pair in horror. When she makes eye contact with him, she pretends to gag. Dennis only shakes his head as he laughs. “She’ll be fine.”

Trinity points over her shoulder toward the exit and raises her eyebrows.

Dennis nods and mouths Share your location.

You too, she mouths back with a shudder, but the smile she’s trying to suppress gives her away. She gives Dennis a parting wave and Robby a threatening stare while dragging a finger across her throat.

Robby’s hands fall from Dennis to give her a double thumbs up.

As soon as she’s out of sight, Dennis' phone starts buzzing. He frowns as he digs it out of his pocket.

Trin: i won the bet, but at what cost?

A photo of Dennis and Michael mid-kiss pops up, and Dennis turns red as the rest of the chat starts responding.

Mira: Damn huckleberryyyy

Vic: MY EYESSS

Vic: WJERE IS MY BLEACOH

Mel: I’m happy for you, Dennis 😊

Mira: Wait. I don’t see a drink anywhere…

Dennis glances up as the bartender comes their way, sliding a beer and cranberry vodka their way.  “On the house,” she says with a wink.

Robby gives Dennis a look.

“From me,” the bartender explains with a laugh.

“Thank you, Amber,” Robby replies, looking slightly embarrassed when she rolls her eyes at him. When she walks away, he nods toward the empty seat beside him, and Dennis takes it. “Everything okay?”

Dennis nods, taking a picture of his drink and sending it to the group before pocketing his phone. “Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Everything’s okay.” He takes a sip of his drink, staring at Robby over the rim. He sets the glass down and pulls his wallet out. “You know what? I think I’ll buy your next drink. I’ll order it myself, too.”

“Yeah?” Robby asks, wiping suds from his mustache.

Dennis nods, pulling out the fifty-dollar bill.

Robby glances down at it, his brows furrowing. “Is that…”

“I earned it,” Dennis argues, “So it’s technically mine.”

Robby chuckles and leans forward, pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “Sure it is, baby.”

Baby.

Dennis licks the beer from his upper lip, glad to have solved that mystery. “Then again, we could always come back another time.”

“No. no,” Robby says with a grin. “I have to teach you how to order, remember?”

“I remember,” Dennis huffs.

Robby shakes his head, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “One more drink, then we’ll go to my place,” he promises. He leans forward until his breath ghosts against Dennis’ ear. “Then, I can show you all the tricks I have up my sleeve, and I can guarantee they’re a lot more creative than your tactics.”

Dennis swallows hard. “Can I order now?”

Robby chuckles as his hand lands on the crook of his neck, squeezing. “How about this? We finish these drinks and head to whatever restaurant you want after. I’ll teach you how to order a drink another time.”

He hums as he thinks. “What if we go to your place now and get something delivered a little later?”

“You’re relentless,” Robby laughs. He leans over and rests a hand on Dennis' knee. “I want to do this right, Dennis. Let me take you out.”

Dennis stares at the man, almost fully in disbelief that this is actually happening. “Okay,” he eventually responds, smiling widely. He turns back to his drink and takes a sip. “Is this how you would’ve treated Dennis from Presby?”

“No,” Robby huffs, taking a sip from his own glass. “If you were just a stranger to me, I think I would’ve been able to let you go after one night.”

A laugh is startled out of him. “You don’t think Dennis from Presby would’ve rocked your world?”

“Do you think anyone from Presby can?” Dennis laughs at the joke, and Robby merely grins. “No,” Robby answers honestly after a moment. “I don’t think Dennis from Presby would’ve been enough for me because he’s not you.”

Dennis’ heart skips a beat as he reaches out, tangling their hands together. “Well, that sucks for him because Michael from PTMC would’ve been more than enough for him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dennis says easily. He takes another sip of his drink and hums. “How about this? We order some greasy bar food, and I learn how to order food and drinks.”

Robby tilts his head at him. “Are you sure that's enough for our first date?”

Butterflies flutter in his stomach at the words. He nods and squeezes his hand. “As long as I’m with you, it’s enough.” He pulls his hand away from him to wave at Amber. “Now let’s put those fifty dollars to use.”

He requests a bar menu that she hands over, apologizing about the stickiness before walking away. When she makes her way back to them, Dennis easily orders for the two of them, having witnessed many people order for him already.

When he tells Robby as much, he looks like he’s about to drag him out of the place before anyone else can order for him again. But Dennis assures him that it won't happen again, and Robby eventually relaxes.

They get lost in each other's company, laughing loudly and staying for several hours longer than they had planned. It's only when someone sends a drink Dennis' way that Robby ends up dragging him out of there.

And, sure enough, when they get to Robby’s, the man has plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

During their next shift together, Trinity rubs her win in Samira’s face, but Dennis can’t help but think that he’s the true winner in the end. Especially when Robby overhears that they’re planning on going out again later in the week, and he slips a few bills into Dennis’ hand, whispering, "If you need more, just call."

But Dennis knows he'll barely use a fraction of it. After all, he's not going to stay out too long when he has Robby to look forward to back at home.

Dennis eventually passes his tactics down to the group, but he lets his own skills get rusty, not needing them for his boyfriend.

And it's worth it. Because, true to his word, Robby doesn’t let him regret choosing him. Not now or ever.