Work Text:
“Hi, my name’s Dennis Whitaker. Can you tell me what brought you in today?”
“Hurts.”
“Well, that’s a good start. Can you tell me what hurts?”
“Elbow.”
Dennis nods, double-checks the chart to make sure there’s no notes. None, just his intake information. Ben Myers, twenty-four. A set of vitals. Increased heart rate, elevated blood pressure, distressed respiration. Not surprising, given that he’s in pain. Moves closer to take a look. It’s dislocated, he can see that much. Doesn’t move it, because he knows that'll cause more pain. Wonders how he did it. Working out, if he had to guess. He’s wearing a tank top with the logo of a gym on it. Seems like a good guess. They see that a lot, too. People lifting weights, and it goes wrong. It happens.
“Looks like you dislocated it. I’m going to go ahead and order an X-ray, so we can make sure that there’s no fractures before we relocate it. I’m also going to get you some pain relief while you wait, since I know that can’t be comfortable. Sound good?”
“Just put it back in.”
“We will, Sir, as soon as the X-ray comes back that nothing is broken. Trying to relocate a broken elbow isn’t going to be a fun process. We wanna avoid causing you more pain, if we can.”
“I came here so you would put it back. Put it back.”
“I will, Sir, as soon as the X-rays come back. It won’t take long, I promise.”
“Just do it now.”
“I will as soon as the-”
Dennis realizes his mistake only after the hands are around his throat. Which is to say, too late. Noted the increased heart rate, elevated blood pressure, distressed respiration. Failed, though, to notice the dilated pupils. Not until he’s staring right into them. Did notice, when he came in, the blank stare. Wrote it off as the pain. Knows better now. Too late, but he knows better now. Feels the hands around his neck tighten. Shit, shit, shit. Ben forces him backwards, pushes him into the wall behind him.
Help, he needs help. Tries to call for it. Realizes he can’t. Can’t get enough air to shout, to scream, to call for assistance. Feels panic flood through him when the hands tighten even further, cutting off his airway completely. Reaches up a hand, pries at the fingers wrapped around him. Claws at them, tries to rip them away. Manages to loosen them enough to suck in a breath before they get tighter again. Jerks a leg forward, aims at anything he can reach. The fingers slacken enough he can suck in two breaths before they’re back again. Help. He needs help. Kicks again, harder this time.
“Hul-” he starts to scream before the sound is cut off as his airway is closed off once more.
Prays someone heard him. Because his vision is starting to tunnel. Is getting hazy around the edges, dream-like in that way he knows means he’s going to lose consciousness. Hears a buzzing in his ear, like a fly that won’t leave him alone. Knows that isn’t good either. Knows he only has seconds before he’s gonna pass out. Needs someone, anyone, to know he needs help before that happens. Sees the supply cabinet out of the corner of his eye. Figures if he can’t scream with words, he’ll scream with actions instead. Reaches out, grabs the handle on the side. Pulls as hard as he can, sends it crashing to the floor.
Hopes, as he falls into unconsciousness, that it was enough.
***
Wakes up on the floor. It’s really uncomfortable. And weird, because why would he be napping on the floor. Seems like an odd place to be doing that. Blinks at the blinding lights above his head. This, isn’t home. Robby and him would never use light bulbs like that. Too much like the ED. Too bright, too clinical. Wonders where he fell asleep. Doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. Tries to sit up, stops when he feels hands on him. Turns his head to look, sees Robby. He looks, terrified. Doesn’t think he’s ever seen Robby look like that before. Not ever. Decides he never wants to see it again.
“Shh, shh, don’t move yet. You’re okay.”
“What happened?”
Is that him? Why does his voice sound like that? Like he’s been smoking ten packs a day for twelve years. Reaches a hand up to rub at his throat. Doesn’t get close before Robby's catching his hand in his. Makes a noise at him, a question. Notices how the action makes his throat burn. Grimaces, can’t help it. Hates the way it makes Robby frown, concern drawing his brow down. Reaches up the hand not caught in Robby's to smooth it out. Robby looks even more devastated at the action, why Dennis has no idea.
“What happened?” He repeats, ignores the way he sounds, the way talking makes his throat hurt.
“Hula hoop,” is all Robby says back.
Hula hoop. Violent patient. Who was hurt? Robby? Was Robby hurt? Is that why he keeps looking at him like that? Because he’s in pain? Tries to sit up, fights Robby’s hands as they seek to stop him. Gets himself up, propped against the wall behind him. Sees the tipped-over supply cart. Must have been a hell of a fight, for it to be knocked over like that. Pulls Robby closer, checks him for injuries, finds none. Good. Good. It wasn’t Robby. Feels horrible as soon as he thinks it. Doesn’t want it to be anyone, not ever, but is so thankful it wasn’t Robby.
“Who?” he asks, throat on fire.
“You.”
Him? That can’t be right. Dennis is fine. His throat hurts, for some reason, but he’s fine. He’d remember, if he called a hula hoop. And he didn’t call… looks to the fallen supply cart. Remembers grabbing for it, pulling as hard as he could as his vision wavered. Remembers hoping it’d be loud enough to get someone’s, anyone’s, attention. Remembers the fear, the panic, when he realized he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Remembers trying to call for help, the way the words got cut off before he could even get them out. Remembers how scared he was. He was so scared.
“Dennis, Dennis, I need you to breathe. Please, sweetheart, breathe with me.”
Robby starts counting off. In, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 2, 3, 4. Feels Robby’s hand on his chest. Feels him tap, even as he counts off. Focuses on that and not his panic. Because he is panicking, he knows he is. Can feel it, knows it isn’t helpful. The danger is passed, is over. There’s no need for it now. Wills his body to listen to Robby. It isn’t hard. He’ll always listen to Robby. It’s second nature at this point. Copies the breathing technique until his heart has calmed, until he feels less like he’s dying.
“Better?”
“Better.”
“You need to be looked at.”
“Want you to do it,” fuck, his voice sounds awful.
“You know I can’t.”
“Michael, please, I can’t, I don’t want anyone else touching my, I can’t let-”
“Shh, shh. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”
Dennis lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Knows it’s irrational. Trusts every single doctor and nurse in this ED with his life. But for some reason, in this moment, the thought of any of them touching him, being the one to examine him, makes him want to rip his skin off. Knows none of them would ever, ever hurt him. But his body apparently hasn’t gotten that memo yet, and just the thought of any of them doing it has him borderline hyperventilating again.
Robby stands first, winces when his knees crack. The noise makes Dennis smile, just a little. Normally, this is when he’d make a joke. Call him his little rice crispy treat or something equally stupid, just to see the way the tips of Robby’s ears get red. Doesn’t. Maybe later. When he feels less like an exposed nerve. Takes Robby’s offered hands, allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Follows the momentum to wrap his arms around him. Crushes himself to his chest. Inhales his scent. Sandalwood and cinnamon. Home.
“Come on, let’s get you sorted.”
Dennis nods, doesn’t step away from him. Just keeps inhaling his scent, takes comfort in it the same way he always does. Feels the rumble that means Robby’s chuckling. Feels something in his chest loosen, something he didn’t even realize was wound too tight. Can still picture Robby’s face, when he first woke up. Terror, a fear he’s never seen on him before. Like he was sure he was about to lose something, about to lose Dennis. Would have thought, in that moment, that he’d never hear him laugh again. Is glad to see that isn’t true.
Keeps himself tucked into Robby’s side as they change rooms. Is thankful his exam won’t be in this room. Knows he’ll have to come back in here, eventually, he does work here, but right now he wants to be anywhere else. Leans into him, lets him lead him to whatever room they’re going to. Doesn’t care which one it is, as long as it’s not the one they just exited. They end up in West 14. Robby directs him to the bed, and he complies. Sits down, lets Robby take his vitals. All in the normal range for someone who was just… all normal.
“I have to look now, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be quick.”
And he is. Tilts Dennis’ chin up, checks the inside of his mouth with his penlight. Listens to his breathing sounds, checks his reflexes. Lifts a hand to his throat, and Dennis can’t help the flinch when he palpitates the flesh there. Hisses, is glad it’s Robby. Doesn’t think he’d be handling this nearly as well if it was literally anyone else. Robby says I know, I’m sorry, almost done, doing so good, while he does it. It’s over fast, at least. Hurts like hell, but is quick. Checks behind his ears, his eyes too.
“Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Weakness? Vision changes?”
“No.”
Robby bobs his head, “I’m ordering a CTA and an MRI.”
Shoots him a thumbs-up. Robby smiles, a small one, at the action. Goes to the computer to chart his findings. Wonders what all he found. Wonders how he looks. Judging by how much his neck hurts, he’s guessing pretty fucking bad. Watches Robby type, focuses on the tap, tap, tap. Would make fun of him for typing like an old man, if this was a normal day. But it isn’t, so he doesn’t. Uses Robby’s tapping as a distraction. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to go hunting for a mirror, and he’s 99% certain he doesn’t want to see what he looks like right now. No, 94%. Because he does want to know, just isn’t sure he’s ready yet.
Someone from transport comes to whisk him off to imaging. Robby doesn’t go with him, which is fine. It’s fine. Completely fine. The IV for the contrast goes in easy and the fact that someone who isn’t Robby is touching him only makes him wanna throw up a little. The scans are over fast, and then he’s back in West 14. Robby’s waiting for him when he gets back, and it’s only then that he realizes he’d been picking at his nails the whole time. Digging at his cuticles, in that way, he does when he gets overly anxious. Only realizes he’s doing it when Robby gently guides his right hand away from his left, links their fingers together instead.
The scans come back clean, and Dennis can see the relief in Robby’s eyes. Sees the way something in them relaxes, fully, for the first time since he woke up. Like he was bracing this whole time for bad news. He’s given a few days off to recover, because he still sounds like he’s been smoking ten packs a day since he came out of the womb. And because the bruises, he’s sure, make him look like a walking crime scene. Is one, technically, he supposes. Still, not the best for hospital image or whatever bullshit Gloria’s always yelling at Robby about.
“Ready to go home?”
Nods, because yes, he is. It’s then that he notices that his bag, and Robby’s, are on the chair in the corner of the room. Must have gotten them while he was off getting scanned. Doesn’t even question how Robby’s coming with him. Doesn’t care, is only glad that he is. Because he doesn’t think he could deal with being separated from him right now. Healthy thought, no, not really. Does he care, also no. Lets Robby lead him from the room with a hand on his shoulder. Leans into the touch the way a dog leans into a scratch to its ears.
Notices Abbot at the hub, next to Al-Hashimi. Must have come in early. Or maybe not. Isn’t actually sure what time it is. Tries to remember what time he went into Ben’s room. Can’t. Doesn’t let himself linger on it. Abbot spots them, juts his chin at them. The motion pulls the attention of Dana, who looks over. Something spreads in her expression, something he’d call pity if it was anyone else. Knows it’s not, not with Dana. More like understanding, because she knows what it feels like to be standing where he is. Knows how he hates to have everyone fussing because she hates it too. Doesn’t stop her from fretting, just a tad, though. Because she’s the charge nurse, and a mother, and those things don’t just go away. Tuts at the marks on his neck, ruffles his hair.
“How you feeling, kid?”
“Aces.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“I’m okay.”
She doesn’t say anything, just sends him a look that tells him I know you’re full of shit, but it’s okay, I won’t call you out on it. Pulls him into a side hug, pats his back. Abbot claps him on the shoulder, doesn’t say anything. Tips his head at Robby, sends him a look he knows is meant to mean you take care of him. Al-Hashimi smiles, tells him to go home and rest. And he isn’t going to argue. Rest sounds good right now. They make it to the car without anyone else stopping them. Feels eyes on him, but no one says anything. Notices a message from Santos, as Robby pulls out of the space. Is suddenly very, very relieved she was off today. Knows if not, she’d be out for blood, probably still will be regardless.
Heard what happened from V, you okay?
Yeah, scans are clean, Robby’s taking me home
Drink tea, lots of honey
Yes, Mom, I will
Watch it, or you’ll go to bed without supper, young man, sends a gif of an old lady wagging a finger, followed by text me if you need anything, love you, Huckleberry.
I will, love you too, Butterfingers
Snorts a laugh when she sends another gif, a different old lady saying respect your elders. Responds with one of the guy from Schitt’s Creek saying that’s not gonna happen while eating a pretzel. She responds with someone flipping off the camera. He hearts the message, puts his phone down. Catches Robby sending him an affection soaked look out of the corner of his eye where they’re stopped at a red light. Reaches out, hooks his hand around his thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Feels Robby’s hand cover his for a second to squeeze back before going back to the wheel. Always drives with two hands on the wheel, when Dennis is in the car with him. Safety first, as if Dennis doesn’t know he only wears his helmet on the Bonnie when he feels like it, no matter how many fights about it they’ve had.
Robby helps him out of the car, after they pull into the drive. Wraps an arm around him, tugs him into his side. Opens the door, kisses the mezuzah as he enters. Dennis does the same, says hi to Robby’s Bubbe. Kicks his shoes off. Suddenly feels more tired than he thinks he ever has before. Should have expected it. Adrenaline wearing off, his body recognizing he’s in a safe place. That he can let his guard down. A guard, he didn’t even realize he had up. Didn’t notice how hyperaware he was, bracing for another attack, until just now. Until he was home, safe, and didn’t need to be anymore.
Robby doesn’t say a word, just takes his hands in his. Tugs him towards their bedroom. He follows, because he always does, when it’s Robby leading him. Trusts him with, everything. His life, his heart, all of it. Is lead to the bathroom. Robby flips the shower on, fiddles with the temperature for a second. Turns to Dennis, starts stripping him. It isn’t sexy, isn’t meant to be. But it is intimate, comforting. Isn’t something he even knew he needed until it was happening. Can’t help but notice that Robby keeps himself between Dennis and the mirror the whole time, so he can’t see himself. Can’t decide if he appreciates it, or if it annoys him. Both, he supposes.
Robby starts to take off his own clothes, but he stops him. Strips him the same way he stripped him. Pulls off each layer with a level of love and tenderness that he knows Robby thinks he doesn’t deserve. Kisses his chest, over his heart when he’s done. Pulls him into the shower with him, drags him under the spray. Turns his face into the water. Feels arms come around his waist, leans back into them. Trusts Robby to keep him up, to be there. He always is. Hears the pop of a cap, and then soapy hands are sliding over his chest, his stomach. Closes his eyes, lets Robby wash him, rinse him.
Another cap and his hands are in his hair, sudsing up his curls. It’s nice, having someone wash his hair for him. He cups his hand over his face, before he helps him rinse, so he doesn’t get soap in his eyes. And something about it, about the gentle care, makes tears well in his eyes. They don’t spill over, just sit on his waterline like tiny hitchhikers. If Robby notices, he doesn’t say anything. Only works in the conditioner. He washes Robby while it sits. They both laugh, giggles filling the steamy air, when Robby has to bend down so he can reach the top of his head to wash his hair. While his conditioner sits, they rinse Dennis’, and then Robby’s.
The pipes squeaks, when they flip the shower back off. Robby steps out first, grabs a towel. Wraps Dennis in it as soon as he steps out after him. Dennis grabs another, wraps it around Robby. Reaches for his hair towel, a genius invention that Trinity introduced him to while they were still living together, after he started letting his curls grow out. Another set of hands beats him to it, and he leans forward so Robby can wrap it for him. Reaches for a smaller towel, dries Robby’s hair for him, because he refuses to use a hair towel. Is far gentler than he knows Robby would be about it. Takes his time to carefully pat it dry, instead of rubbing aggressively like he’s seen him do.
Moves to go to the sink, because he needs to put in his curl cream, since he washed it. Needs to brush his teeth, too. Is stopped by a hand on his arm. Right, the mirror. Going over means having to see himself. Robby lifts an eyebrow, a silent I can do it for you, you don’t have to look yet. Appreciates it, loves him for it, but he has to look eventually. Can’t go the next two weeks refusing to look at himself. Now’s as good a time as any. Might as well just do it, rip off the bandaid. Pats Robby’s cheek, knows he’ll know it means thank you, but I have to do this. Goes to the sink, takes a deep breath, looks in the mirror.
It’s even worse than he thought. Expected the bruising on his neck. It makes him kinda nauseous to look at, the clear hand prints on his skin. Looped around his neck, dark and horrifying against his pale skin. Knew to expect those, even if they are difficult to look at. What he wasn’t expecting was his eyes. They’re red, bloodshot. Petechiae. Knows what that means. Means it was severe enough to burst blood vessels. Means it was life-threatening. Means he could have died. Means it was worse than he thought, then he remembers. It scares him, that he doesn’t fully remember everything that happened. Knows that’s normal, scares him anyway.
Is pulled from his spiraling thoughts by Robby coming up behind him. Makes eye contact with him in the mirror. He has a look on his face like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. Understands, in that moment, that Robby has been seeing this all day. Gets now why he looked so terrified when he opened his eyes earlier, when he woke up. Because he saw the petechiae, knew what they meant. Knew how close he came to losing him. They’re so lucky, so fucking lucky, that it turned out the way it did. That he managed to walk away with only bruising and a fucked voice to show for it. Arms come around him, watches in the mirror as Robby kisses his temple. Brings a hand up, cups the side of his face. Smiles, when Robby bonks his forehead into his.
They brush their teeth quickly. Dennis uses his curl cream, even as Robby snorts at him for doing it. Knows his hair will look absolutely horrible tomorrow morning if he doesn’t. Goes to the bedroom when he’s done. Doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just crawls into bed. Hopes, silently, that Robby does the same. Needs to feel him, to remind himself that he’s still human, still here. Isn’t sure how to ask for it, though. Doesn’t know how to put into words what he needs, just knows he needs it. So he doesn’t even try, just climbs naked into bed and hopes he understands.
And because he’s Robby and perfect in every way, swears he can hear Robby’s disbelieving snort in his head that he knows he’d make if he heard him think that, he does. Clambers onto the bed after him. They end up on their sides, Dennis’ head on his chest. Listens to the glub-glub of his heart. Uses it to remind himself that he’s okay, he’s safe. He’s at home with Robby. He’s a human with a body and he’s alive and it could have ended worse but it didn’t. Robby folds his arms around him, crushes him to his chest, like he needs the contact just as badly. Does, probably. Can only imagine how this day has been for him. Sees a flash of his face, right after he woke up, that raw terror. Thinks he can imagine it, actually.
“I almost killed him.”
Robby’s words break the silence, as his arms tighten around him. He presses his lips to his skin, a soothing thing. Can tell by the way his heart rate picks up he’s thinking about it. Remembering. Can’t tell if it’s rage or fear making his heart beat faster. Supposes it doesn’t matter. The effect is the same. Reaches up, catches the chain of his Magen David in his hand. Finds the pendant, squeezes it. Pulls, just a little. Enough to get Robby’s attention on him, on now, and not on whatever horror show is playing out in his mind.
“I heard the crash, we all did. Came in and you were, he was. It’s a good thing Langdon was there.”
“Yeah?”
“Held me back from doing something that probably would have landed me in jail. Kids stronger than he looks.”
Dennis chuckles at that, even though it isn’t really funny. Can only imagine how traumatic that must have been for him, walking in on that. But the mental image of Langdon holding back Robby is kinda funny. He must agree, because he laughs too. Somehow finds a way to hold him even closer. Snuggles into him because he’s warm. Cards a hand through his chest hair. Grabs the pendant in his hand again, slides it back and forth on the chain. Waits for him to keep talking, but he doesn’t. A hand comes up to this back, rubs up and down. Over and over and over.
He remembers, when he did his OB-GYN rotation, being told all the benefits of skin-to-skin contact for infants. Remembers thinking it was kinda silly. That something as simple as holding them to your chest can regulate temperature, heart rate, breathing, even blood sugar. Can act as a pain reliever during procedures, leads to better sleep, reduces stress and crying. Remembers thinking how odd it is, that something so simple can help so much. But now, with his ear over Robby’s heart and his arms around him, miles and miles of skin pressed together, he kinda gets it. Thinks maybe the infants had the right idea all along.
Feels the Magen David slip from his fingers as his eyes grow heavier and heavier. Yeah, the infants definitely have the right idea. This skin-to-skin thing is pretty awesome. Especially when it's with Robby. Robby, who is big and warm and who knows just how tight to hold him. Thinks of swaddled babies, realizes babies just have all the right ideas about everything. Wiggles his arms until they’re around Robby. Holds him just as tight. Because if it feels good to him, it’ll probably feel good for Robby, too, right? Wants to make him feel good.
“Sleep.”
“Mmm, you too.”
“I will,” feels a kiss on his forehead, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Drifts off to the sound of Robby’s heartbeat and the press of their skin together.