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“Where’s Boss man?” Trinity asks as she leans against the hub desk in front of Dennis.
“Upstairs,” he answers, “Meeting with Gloria, he couldn’t get out of anymore. Why? You need an attending? Al-Hashimi’s around somewhere.”
“No, was just curious. Haven’t seen him today. A meeting, you say?”
“Mhmm.”
“Better be careful tonight, Huck.”
“Why?” he wonders, taking a sip of his Monster.
“Last time Dr. Robby had a meeting, you had a limp for two days.”
“Jesus Christ Trinity.”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with it.”
“Who didn’t have anything to do with what?” Dana wonders as she walks up to the two of them.
“Nothing,” Dennis answers, before Trinity can, because he knows her and he knows she’ll be all too happy to recap the conversation, likely at a volume that is five times louder than it needs to be
“Robby has a meeting,” Trinity says, with a grin.
“I thought that was today,” Dana glances over at him, “Tell him to take it easy on you tonight, kid.”
And he can’t prove it, but he swears she waited to say it until after he’d taken another sip. Chokes on it, sputters, hacks. Trin cackles. Dana at least looks like she feels a little bad as she reaches over to pat his back. But she’s also smirking, a vicious little thing that she usually only reserves for heckling Robby. Makes him feel, something that she’s using it on him. That she feels comfortable enough with him, with his relationship with Robby, to joke about it. Makes him feel like, family. Waves off her concern, subtly flips off Santos. Coughs into his elbow. Knows his face is bright red, from the choking a little but mostly from the teasing. Trinity is still laughing, head resting on the desk.
“Not to mention the hickey,” Dana adds, “I think it had its own zip code.”
“Like he got mauled by a bear,” Trinity agrees, wiping away tears.
“He kinda did, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re both hilarious.”
“Sir, you can’t just walk in here,” Ahmad calls, and their attention shifts from ribbing each other to the man who just entered.
He looks familiar, but Dennis can’t place who he is. Average height, mid-thirties. Brown hair and eyes. Jeans and a sweatshirt, both hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch. Dennis swears he knows him. Can’t remember from where, though. But he’s seen him before, he knows he has. The man completely ignores Ahmad, who is still calling after him. Marches right past him, right up to the hub. Before any of them can ask him what he needs, he lashes out. Grabs Trinity around the chest with one arm. Pulls her back against him. Dana opens her mouth, no doubt to tell this guy off. Doesn’t get the chance. Because the other hand comes out of his pocket.
A gun.
He has a gun.
Everyone freezes. Dennis notices the others, the ones not standing at the hub with them, grabbing patients, heading into the nearest room. Shutting doors behind them. Getting somewhere sort of safe. Thanks God or who the fuck ever that it’s a slow enough day that no one’s in the halls. No patients in beds, out in the open. Vulnerable, exposed. He looks over the man's shoulder, makes eye contact with Ahmad. Shoots a look at the dispatch room. A silent, alert the hospital, we'll handle him for now. Sees him nod once, slowly walk backwards. Knows he’s going to send out the code for an active shooter. Knows the hospital will go on lockdown until it’s resolved.
“Sir,” Dana starts, only to stop when the man waves the gun in her direction.
“Where is he?” the man demands, gun still waving.
“Where’s who?” Dennis questions, voice steady, calm.
“Dr. Robinavitch,” the man spits, all acid.
“He’s not here right now,” Dana replies.
Wrong thing to say, apparently.
“I know he is,” the man shouts, points the gun towards Trinity in a move that sends cold dread up Dennis’ spine.
He can see, over the top of the barrel, her eyes widen. Sees the way her breathing picks up. Coming too fast, too shallow. Panicked. Scared. And Trinity, Trinity doesn’t show fear. Not in front of anyone. Not even in front of him, not really. He gets more of it, her real emotions, than others, but even then, it’s never like this. Never blatant, clear on her face. Easy to read. It’s bluster and innuendo and piecing it together. Not, not this. Not naked fear and clear panic. Which means she’s scared enough that she doesn’t care that she looks scared and that, that isn’t acceptable.
“Sir,” Dennis starts, “He’s currently upstairs in a meeting.”
“You’re lying.”
He tightens his grip on Trinity, and Dennis sees tears well in her eyes. And he doesn’t know her entire history, but he knows enough. Knows there’s a reason she doesn’t like authority figures. Knows there’s a reason she flinches when she isn’t expecting to be touched. Can only imagine what’s going through her head right now. No, that’s not true. He can imagine, and none of it is good. Knows, can see, that this is bringing up memories she’d rather not think about. Wishes he could fix it. Make it better. Wishes he could yank her out of his hold, bundle her in his arms instead. Hold her until she stops looking so terrified. But he can’t.
Or can he?
“Take me instead,” he offers, “I can take you to him.”
“Dennis,” Dana tries to interject, but stops when he glares at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You want Dr. Robinavitch, I can take you to him.”
“I want him to listen to me, he didn’t listen before. I’m gonna make him listen.”
“You want him to listen? Then I’m who you want.”
Something shifts in Trin’s expression. Goes from terrified to vaguely pissed. Good. He’s glad. He’d rather her be pissed at him than petrified. Let her be angry, if it helps her get through this. Irritated, he can deal with. What he can’t deal with, what he can’t handle, is her clearly frightened. Will do whatever he has to do to keep her from looking like that. Even if it means putting himself where she’s standing now. Better him than her. Always better him than someone else. But especially Trinity, his sister, who has already been through too much. And he can’t go back in time and save her, but he can do it now. Can offer himself up in her place. Let her be pissed at him, at least that means she’s around to be.
“I knew, I knew something was wrong, and he didn’t listen to me,” the man mumbles, gun still trained on Trinity.
“I can help you. He’ll listen to me.”
“And why would he do that?” the man sneers, clearly still thinking he’s lying.
“Because I’m his fiancé.”
The man’s eyes dart to him, from his face to his hand. Clearly looking for an engagement ring. Slowly, Dennis reaches up, pulls the chain from under his scrub top. Shows the man that it isn’t a trick, a lie. The ring Robby proposed with three weeks ago sits on the chain, right next to the cross his Grandma gave him when he was seven. Silver, simple. No large diamond that could get caught on anything, just an Alexandrite inlaid in the band. Alexandrite because it’s Robby’s birthstone. It matches the one Robby wears with his Magen David, only his is gold and has a sapphire, Dennis’ birthstone. They wear them on their fingers, when they aren’t at work. But in the ED, for safety reasons, they wear them around their necks.
“You want a hostage? You want him to listen? I’m worth more than she is.”
Trinity makes a noise, some choked-off sound of rage. Already knows he’s gonna get an earful about this later. But it’s fine. Because he can tell it’s working. Can tell the man is thinking about it, is weighing the value of having Robby’s finance as his hostage over some random doctor he grabbed. The gun, slowly, turns from Trinity to him, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Looks at Trinity, tries to tell her with his eyes trust me, I have a plan. It’s a lie, he doesn’t. But he needs her to believe he does so she’ll cooperate and get the hell away from his guy.
“You, come over here,” the man demands, gesturing with the gun.
He shoves Trinity away from him as he says it, and Dennis relaxes. Knows that whatever else happens here, he got what he wanted. Trin is safe. And she doesn’t look terrified anymore, just really fucking mad. Mission accomplished. Even if he knows she’s gonna yell at him later. Already knows she’s gonna be fired up enough that half of it will be in Tagalog, which means he’ll have no idea what she’s actually saying. But he thinks he’ll get the gist anyway.
They pass each other as they round the hub, and he takes half a second to link his pinky with hers. Hopes she knows it means I promise everything’s going to be okay. Because he doesn’t break pinky swears, and she knows that. Knows he thinks of them like blood oaths, has since his older brother introduced him to the concept when he was five. Wouldn’t make one if he didn’t think he could keep it. Has never broken one before.
Hopes this won’t be the first.
Notices on his way to the man that Ahmad is back, lingering a few paces behind them. Sends him a look, you see an opening, you take it. Sees Ahmad nod. Tries to come up with a plan, any plan at all. Preferably one where no one gets hurt, where he doesn’t die. That’d be ideal. Moves to stand where Trinity was just a second ago. Feels the gun press under his jaw, and does his best not to flinch. Wonders, idly, if he said I love you to Robby that morning or not. Is pretty sure he did, he always does. But suddenly, he can’t remember whether he did or not. Can’t remember what the last thing he said to him was, before he went upstairs. Thinks it was probably see you later. That sounds right, a see you later and a kiss before sending him off to the gallows, er, to his meeting with Gloria.
Please, please let me see him later.
Trinity comes to a halt next to Dana, who reaches out a hand, places it on her back. Watches as she rubs a circle there, comforting her as best she can. Is glad for it. Wishes he was the one doing it, but he can’t, so Dana’s the next best thing. Tries to offer a smile, knows it doesn’t work when Trin scowls in response. Well, he tried. The man presses the gun harder into his jaw, and his head tips to the side a little. Trin flinches, like she’s expecting it to go off. Like she’s waiting for the bang, for his brains to decorate her and Dana and the hub. Sends her another look, it’s gonna be okay. Hopes it’s more convincing than his smile was.
“Let’s go see your fiancé,” the man says.
And there’s something about his tone that sends a shiver down his spine. The realization hits him, square in the chest, like an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler. He’s going to kill him, if I take him to Robby, he’s going to kill him. Probably should have pieced it together before. Wonders if that was his intention when he came in. Or if Dennis changed the course of events by revealing that they’re engaged. Wonders who it is this man lost. Because it’s clear he lost someone. Blames Robby for it, not unusual. People die, and grieving relatives need somewhere to put the blame. Doctors are a convenient place to put it.
“Where was the meeting?” Dennis asks, to buy himself some time.
“Conference room A,” Dana answers, an expression he’s never seen on her face before. A mix of anger and helplessness.
“Let’s take a walk then, shall we?” the man suggests, jamming the gun harder into his skin, a reminder that he isn’t really asking.
He’s going to kill him. If he does what he wants, he’s going to kill him. He’s going to lose Robby. Is going to be a widow before they’re even technically married. No, he can’t. He can’t. Feels the muzzle of the gun. Knows what refusing to help now means. Better me than him. Thinks of Ahmad, standing behind them, ready to intervene. Waiting for an opportunity. Thinks maybe he can give him one. It’s worth a try. Anything is worth a try, as long as Robby makes it out alive. Knows Robby wouldn’t agree. Knows if he knew what Dennis was thinking right now, he’d be even more pissed than he knows Santos is about to be. Sends out a prayer, please don’t make me break that pinky swear, okay?
“Dana?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Robby I’m sorry.”
Doesn’t wait for a reply. Just moves. Reaches up for the gun, twists the man's wrist. Hopes to get it away from him. Just needs to get it out of his hands, to give Ahmad a chance of stepping in. It doesn’t work. Has a second to think, fuck before he’s being spun. Pain explodes over his temple, and it takes him a second to realize it’s because the man hit him with the gun. Falls to the floor, disoriented. Hears someone scream. Opens his eyes in enough time to register the man climbing on top of him before another hit lands, thankfully not the gun, just a fist. It snaps his head to the side, and he gasps. Feels the gun press under his chin again, feels it force his head backwards.
“Let’s see how he likes losing someone he loves,” the man snarls.
He’s gonna kill me. Realizes his goal to hurt Robby has shifted to hurting him instead. Wonders if that wasn’t the plan the whole time, since he found out he was his fiancé. Wonders if it was his fiancé he lost. If he sees this as some cosmic justice. A life for a life. Thinks of I’ll see you later. Can see Robby’s face in his mind, when he’s told. Can see the way his face will crumble, the way he’ll try not to cry but won’t be able to help it. Knows he’ll blame himself. Doesn’t think anyone, not even Dana or Jack, will be able to keep him off the roof. Can see it, his body bloody and broken.
No, he said he’d see him later, so he’s gonna fucking see him later.
Bucks his hips up at the same time that he hooks a leg over the man's, uses the moment of imbalance to flip their positions. Doesn’t care about anything other than getting the gun away from him. Uses his childhood of wrestling with his brothers to his advantage. Scrambles up his body. Gets a grip on the hand holding the gun. Twists the man's wrist. Twists and twists and twists until he lets it go. Slides it across the ground towards Ahmad. Hears boots, knows he’ll have secured it. The man growls, and Dennis braces. Knows all he’s done is piss him off more. But at least he doesn’t have the gun anymore. A fist to the throat sends him sprawling, and then the guys on top of him again.
One hit, two, three. Tries to defend himself, but he can’t. There’s no rhyme or reason to where he’s being hit. Just blind fury. Manages to catch one of his hands in his. Can tell it makes him angrier, and the next hit is targeted, aimed to take the air out of his lungs. Probably hopes he’ll let him go. Jokes on him, his oldest brother loved to do that. Thought it was funny when he’d gasp and wheeze. He’s used to it. Does the same now, gasps and wheezes, and struggles to get his air back. But doesn’t release his hold on him. If anything, he holds on harder.
And then the weight on top of him is gone. After what feels like hours but was realistically only a minute, the weight on top of him vanishes. Ahmad, with the help of Donnie, pulls the man off him. Wrangle him to the ground. Pin him there with their own weight. Jesse comes out of one of the patient rooms to help. Ahmad calls threat contained into his walkie, and the room explodes into movement. Dennis pays no mind to any of it. Can’t be bothered to care. Not when his head is throbbing from being pistol-whipped, and he knows he’s going to have just, all the bruises.
“Whitaker, hey, look at me,” Dana orders, kneeling next to him.
“Huckleberry, I swear if you ever do something like that again, I’m gonna kill you myself.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she responds, tone going sarcastic, “worked great.”
“Dana?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“You don’t have to tell Robby I’m sorry.”
“No, you get to deal with him yourself.”
Dennis laughs, regrets it as soon as he does. Between his head and the various bruises forming, it hurts. Something shifts in Dana and Trin’s expressions at the wince he can’t hide. Before he knows it, he’s on a gurney and in North 6, perched on the end of the bed, feet dangling. Santos does a whole neuro exam on him, checks his pupils. Asks him a million questions about where he is, what happened, who she is. Checks all his reflexes. Orders scans, CT, head and maxillofacial, as well as an MRI, because she’s worried, and this is how she’s choosing to show it.
Hasn’t left his side since the gunman was detained. Keeps checking his vitals like she thinks the machines are lying. Like if she looks away, if she stops checking, he’s going to die, and she won’t notice until it’s too late. Has one of his hands in hers, finger over his pulse point. He lets her. Because he knows he scared the hell out of her. Out of all of them. Has already been read the riot act by everyone. Even Jesse came in to give him a stern, you better never pull that shit again, man and he didn’t even think Jesse liked him that much.
“Promise me you won’t ever do that again,” Trinity says, playing with one of his fingers.
And he wants to promise, he does. Because he knows he scared her, scared everyone. Knows what he did was stupid, knows he’s lucky as hell that it went in his favor. Knows it could have gone sideways a million different ways. Knows he’s beyond lucky that he’s even alive right now. Wants to promise to never do it again, especially when he sees her face. Sees the tears in her eyes. But he can’t. Because he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. And he knows he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. To protect her, Robby, all of them. To keep them safe. Knows he’d do it all over, even if the outcome didn’t go his way, he’d still do it again.
“I’ll try.”
“No, no, that’s not good enough,” Trinity snaps, “You have to promise me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Dennis Whitaker, you promise me right now.”
Holds out her pinky as she says it. It makes him smile, because it’s proof that she knew what he was saying earlier. Means she understood his message. Because he doesn’t break pinky swears. Which is why he doesn’t lift his pinky to hers, like he knows she wants him to. Because he won’t make a pinky promise he knows he can’t keep. Hopes this situation never, ever happens again. Also knows if it does, he’ll do the same thing he did today every single time. Will throw himself on the grenade, metaphorically, over and over. Won’t promise otherwise because he still hasn’t broken a pinky swear yet. Won’t make one, he may have to break one day.
“Dennis,” and he hates the way her voice cracks, just a little, “please.”
“I can’t make a promise I might not be able to keep.”
“And I can’t lose any more friends.”
He knows about her friend. The one who, he knows. Knows how her death haunts her, even all these years later. How she celebrates her birthday every year with cake and ice cream. How she doesn’t get out of bed on the anniversary of her death. How she blames herself, for not doing more. Knows she takes it out on herself, sometimes. Has seen the scars. Caught her, once, taking a stolen scalpel to her skin. Made her promise, pinky swear, to come to him next time it got bad. To let him help, instead of taking it out on herself. A pinky promise that Trin has never broken, as far as he knows. Has come to him a few times, when it got bad. Spent the night bingeing Drag Race and eating ice cream with him, instead of…
“How about I promise to only do it as a last resort?”
Trin sighs, “That’s the best I’m getting, isn’t it?”
“Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it. But I reserve the right to yell at you after the fact.”
“Deal.”
And with that, they link pinkies.
“He what?” a voice shouts from right outside.
And then the door is flying open, and Robby is there. Stops in the doorway, takes in the sight he makes. And he knows it must be a sight. Knows that even though it’s only been like ten minutes, the bruises have already started to bloom. Are molting his skin black and blue. Knows he probably looks like shit. Knows it probably looks even worse to Robby, who hates to see him injured at all. Treats him stubbing his toe or banging his hip into a desk like the end of the world. Can only imagine how he’s gonna be after all this. Will probably try to wrap him in bubble wrap or something. Thinks Trin would probably help him do it, if he asked her.
“I’m fine.”
“He got pistol-whipped,” Trinity tells him, because she’s a traitor.
“I’m fine,” he insists, even though he knows it’ll do no good.
“He has a concussion,” Trin adds.
“A small one.”
Robby doesn’t say anything, just stumbles the few steps from the door to the bed. Collapses to his knees, buries his face in Dennis’ stomach. Brings his arms around him, clutches him. Holds him like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. Wonders what he was told outside the door. How much of the story he got. Assumes it was Dana he talked to. Knows they would have gotten the active shooter alert. That he would have tried to get back here as soon as he could. Wonders if he knew the shooter was in the ED. Hopes not, only because he can’t imagine how that must have felt if he did. Being locked in that conference room, knowing his people were in danger and not being able to do a fucking thing about it.
Only to come down once he was allowed to find out Dennis was hurt. Hurt because he made himself a hostage, a target. Assuming he even knows that part. Wonders if Dana told him what the man wanted. That he wanted Robby, wanted to hurt him. Whether directly or by taking away Dennis. Doesn’t ask, though, can tell Robby’s barely holding it together. Trinity stands, shoots him a look, good luck with that, before she’s ducking out the door. Pulls the privacy curtain closed as she goes, so anyone looking in can’t see them. Makes sure the door doesn’t slam behind her.
Brings a hand up to Robby’s head, drags his fingers through his hair. Gives him as much time as he needs to reassure himself that Dennis is okay. That he’s here and alive. Bruised to hell but breathing. Safe. Just strokes his hair, over and over and over. Wraps his legs around him as best he can. Wants to urge him up, because he knows his knees are going to be killing him later. Doesn’t, because he understands that this is what he needs right now. Feels him shift, just a little. Tug him just a bit closer, like he’s making sure Dennis is real. Is here. Hums, in the back of his throat. Robby does it back, unconscious, and it makes him smile.
“We got the alert. Gloria wouldn’t let me leave.”
“Good. It was you he wanted.”
“Dana told me, that you offered yourself up. Traded places with Santos.”
Ah, that explains the he what they heard right before he came in.
“She was scared.”
“And you weren’t?”
“Terrified. But he wanted you, not me.”
Shrugs, a little, as he says it. Because yeah, he’d been scared, but not for himself. Had been scared for Trin. Been scared for Robby, when he realized what the man planned to do. Had never truly been worried about himself. His own safety. Hoped, prayed, that he’d make it out. But even that had had more to do with the others. Knew Robby and Trin would never forgive themselves if something happened to him. Knew they’d blame themselves. Didn’t want to die, because he didn’t want them to carry that guilt with them. Was never worried about being hurt for his own sake. Had only one thought on his mind: protect. So that’s what he did.
Robby pulls back, looks up at him. Sweeps his eyes over his face, pauses when he spots the bruise on his neck. The one just under his jaw, from where the muzzle dug into his skin. It’s already dark and ugly. Knows it is because Dana whistled when she noticed it, said damn kid, that’s gotta smart in a tone that he knew meant she wanted five minutes alone with the guy so she could kick his ass. Tips his head to the side when Robby reaches for it, traces the edges with a single finger. His hand goes from his jaw to his temple, where a butterfly bandage is holding his skin together. It was a small cut, but something on the gun got him when he cracked him with it. Skims the bruise on the apple of his cheek from one of the punches that landed.
“You fought him.”
“He was a threat.”
“That’s what we have security for.”
“He had a gun, security couldn’t step in until he didn’t have it anymore. I helped.”
“You put yourself in danger.”
“I helped.”
Robby scoffs, rises from his knees. Dennis attempts to help him, gets his hands smacked away for his effort. Isn’t prepared for Robby to climb onto the bed with him. Laughs, a little, because these beds are not designed to hold two people. Especially when one of them is six foot one. But they manage to make it work. Robby slides back until he’s against the propped-up headrest. Tugs Dennis backwards by the waist until he gives in and lies with him. Curls into his side, tucks his head into the crook of his neck. It’s nice, dark. Makes his head hurt less. Lets out a sigh of relief. Feels a hand in his hair a second later, has to bite back a moan because it feels amazing. Makes his head hurt even less, basically not at all.
“Dana said you told him we were engaged.”
“I did. Thought it’d make me more valuable than Trin. It worked.”
“Never do that again.”
Dennis doesn’t say anything, only makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
“I mean it. He wanted me, and you gave him an even better way to hurt me instead. You.”
“Better me than you,” Dennis says, before he can stop himself.
Startles when, between one breath and the next, he finds himself on his back, Robby hovering over him. Doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on Robby’s face before. Looks, pissed. Like genuinely, viscerally angry. Not a little annoyed. Not slightly inconvenienced. Not heading towards the end of his rope and liable to say something he doesn’t mean to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Actually, really, pissed off. Looks away, because he doesn’t like that look directed at him. Hates it, hates feeling like he’s somehow let him down. Feels a grip on his chin, gentle but firm. Forces his eyes back up to Robby’s. He doesn’t look angry now, just heartbroken. Somehow that’s worse.
“I need you to listen to me right now. Are you listening?”
“Mhmm.”
“You over me, always. Do you hear me?” opens his mouth to protest, gets cut off, “I mean it. If it’s between me and you, I need to know you’ll pick you.”
“Not if it means you getting hurt.”
“And if it means you getting hurt instead?”
“Then I get hurt. The world needs you, it doesn’t need me.”
Says it easy, like it’s a universal truth. Because it is. He knows it is. The world would keep spinning along just fine if Dennis was no longer in it. But a world without Robby in it? That wouldn’t turn out quite as smooth. They, the ED, needs him. Needs his knowledge and his expertise. Sure, they’ve survived without him before, for a few months, but never forever. It’d be different, if they knew he was never coming back. Isn’t sure it’d go as well as last time, if they knew he was truly gone. Forever. Dennis needs Robby, because he’s greedy and selfish and always has been, but he isn’t the only one. The whole world needs him, they just don’t know it until they land in the PTMC emergency room.
“The world does need you.”
“Does it?”
“You’re my world, and I need you, so yes.”
“Cheesy.”
“Like Velveeta.”
“Dork.”
Robby chuckles, leans over him. Lowers himself down until he can press a kiss to his lips. Dennis kisses back because today could have gone wrong in a million different ways, but it didn’t. Kisses him back because they’re both alive and here to be kissing. Kisses him because he wants to, and he can. Ignores the throbbing in his head. It’s not important, not right now. Not when Robby’s here, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Not when he could have lost him today.
Robby pulls back, noses at his jaw until he tips his head to the side. Presses his lips to the bruise on his neck. The one from the muzzle. Kisses it once, twice, three times. All but collapses on top of him, their positions from earlier flipped. Robby wedges his head into the crook of his shoulder, places another kiss on the bruise. Wraps his arms around him, settles so that his weight is practically on top of him. Robby scootches down, just enough that his head rests over his heart. Listens to each glub-glub with his own ears. Counts each proof of life. A reminder that today didn’t go sideways, that Dennis is still here.
“Never again. Promise me.”
“I can promise only as a last resort.”
“That’s what you promised Santos, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Suppose I’ll have to take it then.”
Holds up his pinky without lifting his head. Dennis smiles, links his with Robby’s. Is glad he doesn’t try to argue with him. Thinks he doesn’t because he gets it. That if their positions had been switched today, Robby would have done the same thing he did to keep him, to keep everyone, safe. Feels Robby turn his head, kiss over his heart. Brings a hand up to his hair, runs his fingers through it. Over and over and over.
Feels the last of the tension Robby was carrying leave. Feels him practically melt into the bed. Gets crushed even more under his weight. Not that he minds, he doesn’t. Being crushed under his fiancé’s weight is his favorite place to be. Would never even dream of complaining about it. Closes his eyes, keeps carding his hand through Robby’s hair. Grins when he feels Robby start to absentmindedly trace patterns on his scrub top. Brings up his free arm, plops it over his face. Blocks out the little bit of light. Better, much better.
“We leave you two alone for five minutes, and you’re in bed,” Dana’s voice breaks the quiet, the screech of metal on metal making him wince as the curtain is pulled back.
“At least we got our pants back on in time,” Robby quips, not lifting his head.
“You better take it easy on him tonight, Robinavitch. You may have had a meeting, but he has a concussion.”
“Nothing more strenuous than sleeping, Scout’s Honor.”
“You weren’t a scout.”
“Eh, I coulda been.”
“I hate to break this up, but someone has some scans he needs.”
“Yeah, Robby, go get your scans.”
Feels Robby laugh more than he hears it. Feels the bed shift too, like he’s sitting up. Whines, a little. Can’t help it. He’s comfortable and doesn’t want to get up. Robby’s like the best weighted blanket in the world. Warm and heavy, and gives him kisses. Cracks open an eye to see Robby looking at him with an expression so sweet, so fond, he thinks it might give him a cavity. Gives him a small smile. One that grows when he beams back. Looks behind him to see Dana looking at both of them, and somehow she looks even more fond than Robby does.
“Come on, up and at ‘em.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes,” both Robby and Dana respond, at the same time.
“Fine, fine. I’m going.”
Dana has a wheelchair with her, and he wants to object. He can walk, he’s not hurt that bad. Doesn’t when he sees her glare. Just sits down. Puts his feet on the little rests. Relaxes back into it. Robby’s still on the bed, and he chuckles because his hair is a mess. Hopes he fixes it before anyone sees it, or they are gonna think some, uh, life-affirming happened. Wonders how his looks. Doesn’t really care, if he’s honest. Figures it can’t be as bad as Robby’s is. And if it is, all well. Robby hops off the bed, comes over to the chair. Leans down, and Dennis leans up to meet him. Makes a sound of surprise when he presses a kiss to the middle of his forehead and not his lips like he was expecting.
“I’ll wait here for you,” Robby says, presses another kiss to the end of his nose.
“I’ll see you later,” Dennis says, intentional, “I love you.”
“I love you too. See you in a bit.”
Yeah, yeah, he will.