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Today is, dare he say, quiet.
Well, he won’t say it. Not out loud anyway, because he isn’t stupid. And saying it out loud is just asking for it to be not quiet anymore. But in his head, he will. Because his head is safe, debatable, so he can. Has been slow enough, he’s almost caught up on charting, a fucking miracle in and of itself. Might even get to go home on time, maybe. Assuming he didn’t just jinx them all by thinking that. Seriously, God be cool, man, I’m so tired. Hears Robby behind him, typing something. Dana’s filing paperwork next to him, a few others are milling about, waiting on test results or taking a breather before diving back in.
Startles when Trinity slams her hands on the counter in front of him. Bends enough she can rest her head on the hub desk, breaths in deep. She’s doing that thing she does when she’s mad. When she’s pissed and trying to calm down. When she wants to make heads spin but can’t, so she’s trying to keep her cool about it. He reaches up with one hand, taps the counter in front of her head. Raises an eyebrow when she looks at him, a silent you okay. She nods, pauses, shakes her head instead. Knows it must be bad, if she’s admitting she isn’t okay.
“Need anything?”
“No, I’m just waiting on Kiara.”
“Everything alright?” he asks, even though he knows it’s not.
“Patient in North 3, eleven-year-old girl. Infected stitches.”
Nods, like he knows why that has her so pissed off. Has no idea. Stitches get infected. It sucks when it happens, but it does. And it isn’t something to get Kiara involved with, he doesn’t think. Sometimes a parent can do all they can, and it still happens. Infections are like that. Assumes he’s missing something, because Trinity jumps to conclusions sometimes, but she’s been getting better about it. So there has to be a piece she hasn’t told him yet. Sees Dana look over out of the corner of his eye, like she’s curious too. Waits for her to reveal it, knows she will, when she’s calmed herself down enough to say it. Closes out the chart he was finishing, opens another. Starts typing.
“They’re infected because her mother did them herself.”
“She what?” Dana asks, shock in her tone.
Dennis listens as Trinity recounts the whole story. Lily Mask cut herself on a wooden fence post a week ago. Her mother didn’t bring her into the ED for treatment, just took care of it at home. Stitched her up, only brought her in now because the wound had gotten infected and was causing the girl a lot of pain. By the end, everyone who was in the area is listening. Even Robby has abandoned his paperwork to listen, which makes Dennis chuckle because he knows for a fact he has to get that paperwork done today or Gloria’s gonna be on his ass again. She mentions, briefly, where the family lives. An area known for two things: being rural and farming. Suddenly, the at-home stitches make more sense to him.
“So now I’m waiting for Kiara to come down to assist me,” Trinity concludes.
“Damn,” Dana says, “How could someone do that to their own kid?”
“Maybe they thought the doctor was too far away?” Dennis suggests, not looking up, “When I was ten, I fell on a paddock fence and needed stitches. Pa said the doc was too far away, so he just did ‘em at the kitchen table.”
Doesn’t realize how silent everyone’s gotten until no one speaks after him. Glances up to see everyone looking at him, all with varying flavors of horrified on their faces. Robby looks like he’s about to cry, like he wants to scoop him up in his arms and never let him go. Trinity looks even more pissed than she did before, like she’s about to murder someone. Who he has no idea, just hopes it’s not him. Dana looks devastated, like he just told her the worst news ever. The others all look equally as horrified.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Did you just say your dad did your stitches?” Trin asks, murderous expression still on her face.
“Yeah? He said the doctor was too far to take me in, so he just did ‘em before we ate dinner.”
Remembers it like it was yesterday. Doesn’t remember how he’d fallen on the fence, only that he had. Remembers that it tore up his back something awful, hurt like hell. Remembers ain’t have the time to take him all the way to town. Remembers being told to sit in the kitchen chair, being half bent over so his Pa could reach his back. Remembers stop squirming or I’ll give you something to squirm about. Had only been squirming because it hurt, the stitches. But he’d stopped, because his Pa told him to. And he always did what his Pa told him to do. Because it tended to go worse for him when he didn't.
“Whitaker?” and that’s Jesse, “Didn’t you say your parents are farmers?”
“Yeah?”
“How, how did he give you pain relief then?”
“Oh, he didn’t. But it ended up only being like nine stitches, so it was fine.”
Somehow, that just makes everyone look even more horrified. Robby actually looks a little green, like he’s going to throw up. And he’s never seen Trinity look as angry as she does right now. Dana looks, gutted. Perlah and Princess both have hands over their mouths, like if they don’t physically stop themselves from talking, they’re going to say something they shouldn’t. McKay looks, he doesn’t even know. But suddenly, the ankle monitor she used to wear makes more sense. Even Jesse, who never really shows much emotion at all, looks like he’s going to be sick.
“Are you guys okay?”
“Dennis,” Trinity starts, face going soft, and he knows she’s being serious because she doesn’t even call him Huckleberry, she always calls him Huckleberry, “You know that was like, really fucked up, right?”
“I mean, it wasn’t ideal, but it was fine. Farm medicine and all that, ya know,” he tries to deflect.
“No, it wasn’t,” Trinity insists, that angry look back, “It wasn’t fine.”
Perlah speaks up then, “Do you think it’s okay that the mom in North 3 did them?”
“God, no, she should have taken her to the doctor as soon as it happened, no matter how far away it was.”
“So it’s okay when it happens to you but not when it happens to anyone else?”
And Dennis, doesn’t know how to respond to that. Because, because yes, exactly that. Because no one else should have to hurt the way he did. Still remembers the way the needle felt, going into his skin. How it hurt. No one should have to feel that, least of all a little girl. Knows personally, intimately, how much it hurt her to have it done. She never should have had to go through that. She should have had pain relief and doctors who were careful. Dennis didn’t, but she should have. She deserved that, even if he didn’t.
“Whitaker, that never should have happened to you,” Dana says, eyes sad.
“That’s like, really fucked up, Huckleberry.”
“I’m having the urge for a trip to Nebraska,” McKay says, grinding her fist into her opposite hand, “Who’s with me?”
Perlah and Princess both say I am at the same time Trinity says shotgun. Dana nods with a I’ll bring the snacks. Robby doesn’t say anything, but he does nod once. Jesse raises his hand, as does Donnie, who Dennis didn’t even see join them. Even Mel looks like she could hurt someone right now, which is saying something because the closest he’s ever seen her come to being violent was the time she said oh fudge when she dropped something on the floor. But right now, right now, she looks like she could kill someone.
“No Nebraska trips, please,” he pleads, because he has no idea what else to say, and he thinks McKay’s joking, but he can’t be one hundred percent sure.
“Just to talk,” McKay says, though her eyes say different.
“Please, no. And can we, maybe, move on from this? And forget I said anything, please?”
“You heard the man, no murder today,” Dana says, “Back to work, all of you.”
Everyone lets out a collective aww man, but they do disperse. Going back to whatever it was they were doing before Trin came stomping in. Dennis goes back to charting, because the results for his patient in North 5 still aren’t back yet. Feels Robby’s eyes on the back of his head. Pretends he doesn’t. Knows the others may let it go, may pretend he never said anything. Like, he didn’t reveal a really messed-up part of his childhood without meaning to. But he knows Robby won’t forget. Has no doubt that even now he’s mentally cataloging every scar he’s ever seen on Dennis, trying to determine the cause of every one.
Keeps typing, ignores the eyes he can feel on him as he does.
***
He’s glad, when the end of his shift comes. The rest of the day goes pretty much like the beginning does. Is glad he didn’t jinx them with his thoughts earlier. The shift goes smooth, or as smooth as a shift in the ED can. There’s two pedestrians versus cars that come in, three STEMIs, and a man who fell off a ladder and onto a fence that gets hairy for a second. Other than that, it’s all patients from chairs. A slow day, by the ED's standards. And no deaths, a win they’re all happy to take. Lilly’s mother is arrested for child abuse and a slew of other charges. The girl's grandparents come to pick her up, and Dennis has to take five in the bathroom to cry when he sees the way they hold her when they get there.
The way they sob we didn’t know baby girl, we didn’t know into her hair. Wonders if anyone would have cried like that for him, if he’d told. Knows no one would have. Not back then, at least. Remembers Robby’s green-tinged face and the group of his coworkers who looked ready to kill, and thinks that maybe, maybe there’s people who would cry for him now. Doesn’t think anyone in Broken Bow would have cared, if he’d been brave enough to tell. But here, now, in Pittsburgh, he thinks he has plenty of people who would cry for him, if he ever told them all of it.
Credit to his coworkers, though, no one acts weird around him. Has no illusions, knows everyone in the ED knows about his little screwed up story time. But no one treats him any different. Donnie still makes fun of him when he runs into a wall because he was trying to read a chart and walk at the same time. Princess fills him in on some gossip while they debride a wound on a sedated patient, same as always. Mel offers to share her lava lamp time with him when he sees her in the break room, like she does every other day.
It’s reassuring to him, that even though they all know that his childhood was, for lack of a better phrase, incredibly fucked up, they don’t treat him differently for it. No one puts on kid gloves, they all act exactly the same as they always have. No one tries to get him to talk about it either, another thing he’s thankful for. They all have the chance to, is alone with them all at one point or another. But no one asks about it. Donnie asks about the Penguins game, and Mel asks about the new Italian restaurant him and Robby tried the other week, and Trinity asks whether he’s still coming over tomorrow or not. But no one asks about it, and he’s grateful.
“You don’t get him all day tomorrow, I call bestie privileges,” Trin tells Robby from where she’s walking behind them as they leave the ED.
“I’ll drop your son off no later than one, promise.”
“Please, he’s not my son, more like my dog.”
“Woof,” Dennis chimes in, cackles when Trinity noogies him from behind.
“See you tomorrow, Huckleberry.”
“See you tomorrow, Butterfingers.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“You’re not my type.”
“I know, he is. Bye,” sing-songs her farewell as she walks away.
Dennis watches her go with a smile. Grins when Robby hooks his arm around his shoulders, tugs him towards where the car is parked. Climbs into the passenger seat, beams when Robby’s hand finds his thigh. Watches the streetlights out the window, hums along to the radio. Smiles to himself when he hears Robby singing. Doesn’t say anything about it, because if he realizes he’s doing it, he’ll stop. Just listens to it, watches him tap his thumb on the steering wheel. They stop at the deli down the road from Robby’s to get dinner. Because neither of them wants to cook, and because Dennis’ been craving a hoagie from there for like, three days now.
They eat at the kitchen island, don’t even bother with plates or sitting. Just scarf their sandwiches down like they haven’t eaten in hours. Which, they probably haven’t. Could have, the day was slow enough. But Dennis hadn’t exactly been hungry after… after. And Robby’d been busy trying to get that paperwork for Gloria done. Had managed to complete it before end of shift, barely, but he’d done it. So they snarf down their sandwiches in what is probably the most unattractive way anyone has ever eaten food ever. But he doesn’t care, because he’s been craving this for days now and it’s fucking delicious.
Doesn’t object when Robby pulls him towards the bedroom. Is a little surprised when he leads him to the bathroom and not the bed, but he’s not complaining. Never complains about taking a shower at Robby’s. His water pressure is incredible, obscene actually. And getting to enjoy that water pressure with a soaped-up Robby only makes it that much better. They wash each other, lathering up the body wash and using hands to cleanse each other of the day they’ve had. Feels Robby linger, for just a second, on the scars on his back. The ones he’s seen a million times before, but only just learned the cause of.
They dry off, helping each other the same way they had in the shower. Fall into bed, not even bothering to get dressed. Because why put on clothes they know they’re only going to take right back off again. Giggles, a little, when he thinks about how the shower was probably pointless. Is proven right when they start to trade kisses, slow and lingering, that turn into wandering hands. Wandering hands turn into gasps and moans and arched backs. Turn into oh, shit, there, there, so good, oh shit. Curls into Robby’s chest, after. Pants into his skin, catches his breath. Listens to Robby’s heartbeat go from jackrabbit fast to normal sinus.
Robby’s chest rises and falls as he wrangles his own breathing back under control, Dennis rising and falling with it where he rests on top. Smiles when Robby’s hand finds his hair, pushes the sweaty strands from his forehead. Tilts his head back, pushes a kiss to the edge of his jaw. Wrinkles his nose because his beard tickles. Giggles when Robby grabs him around the waist, rubs his cheek against his.
“Stop,” he whines, still laughing, “If I have beard burn tomorrow, Trin’s gonna make fun of me.”
“Just means I did my job well.”
“What job? Rubbing against me like a cat?”
“You weren’t complaining a few minutes ago.”
Rolls his eyes when Robby winks at him. Smiles, anyway, when Robby cackles. Kisses the end of his nose, drops his head back down to his chest. Feels Robby’s hand in his hair, then on his back. Rubs circles, like he usually does after they, after. Snuggles into his side, closes his eyes. Knows they need to get up, need to clean up before things get, sticky. But he’s comfortable, and he doesn’t want to move yet. So he doesn’t. Just enjoys Robby’s hand on his skin. Can’t help but notice, though, how his fingers trace the scars there. Don’t linger, like in the shower, but trace them regardless. On every sweep up, every one down, his finger follows the lightning bolt marks carved into his skin.
“You can ask, if you want,” he tells him, because he knows he wants to, also knows he won’t on his own.
“You don’t have to talk about it, I don’t need to know.”
“I already said all there is to say, really. I needed stitches, so he did ‘em. Not much else to it.”
“And did that happen often? Him doing things that a doctor should have been doing?”
“I guess,” ignores the noise Robby makes, “But life on the farm, it’s different, ya know?”
“How so?”
“Money’s tight. And doctors, they cost money we didn’t always have. So, we did what we had to do. And, and the drive into town was long, and it wasn’t always worth it, ya know?”
Knows by the way his breath hitches that Robby hears what he isn’t saying. I wasn’t always worth it. Because he wasn’t like his brothers. He wasn’t strong, couldn’t pull his weight the way they could. Which meant that sometimes, he didn’t get the same things they did. Because he hadn’t earned them. Remembers his Pa’s voice, you think money grows on trees, boy. Remembers how he only ever said it when it was Dennis asking for something, when it was Dennis who needed something. Thinks of the drive, the one that was too long that night, but not when they drove it other times. When they went into town for groceries or church or to visit Ma’s friends in the knitting circle. Was only too far when it was something he needed.
“Sounds like excuses to me,” Robby says, voice low.
Shrugs, because he doesn’t know what else to do. Sees, now, that it was excuses. Was just justification for child abuse, neglect. A rationale for not taking care of their youngest son. Isn’t sure how to feel about it. Had always thought about it as, normal. It was just the way life was, he didn’t know any better. Farm life is hard, after all. Had no reason to question it. Not until today. Not until a little girl came into the ED and showed him that what happened to him wasn’t okay. Not until he saw her mother in handcuffs, her grandparents in tears over what she went through. Not until he saw his boyfriend, his best friend, and his coworkers all ready to throw hands with his family over something that happened twenty years ago.
“You know, don’t you? That that shouldn’t have happened?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“And that you didn’t do anything to deserve it?”
A pause, “Yeah.”
“Dennis.”
“I, I do, I just, I’m working on it.”
“That’s all I can ask for. I love you, you know that?”
“I do. I love you too.”
"And I'm sorry no one protected you, back then."
Tips his head up for a kiss because he doesn't know how to respond to that, smiles into it when he gets it. Knows he’s going to have to process all this. Is going to have to grieve the childhood he thought he had. Or, the parts he thought were normal, at least. Already knew his childhood wasn't, standard. Knew his Pa’s temper flared from angry words to flying fists more than it should have. Knew most children didn’t have to cover bruises when they went to school. Knew it even back then. Has already made peace with it, kinda, mostly. But this, this is new. Because now he realizes that even the parts he thought were normal, weren't. Knows he's going to have to unpack that, at some point, but not tonight.
Tonight he’s going to kiss his boyfriend because he can. Kisses him because he loves him and he wants to so he does. Chases his lips when he pulls away, even if it means he’s for sure going to have beard burn tomorrow. Let's Robby flip him onto his back, because being pinned to the bed by his boyfriend is never somewhere he objects to being. Wraps his legs around him, pulls him down into another kiss. It’s one hundred percent worth the teasing he knows Trin is going to lob at him because kissing Robby is, he’s pretty sure, the eighth wonder of the world.
“We need to clean up,” Robby tells him, pulling back.
“Mmm, I think we should get dirtier first.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Mhmm, I do.”
“I think maybe that can be arranged.”
Cackles when Robby rubs his cheek against his before pulling him into another kiss.