Chapter Text
“The days may feel long, the nights everlasting, but the years fly past.”
-Adapted from a quote by Gretchen Rubin
Asphalt was buried deep in the open tissue of the man on the table. Roadburned skin emitted a foul, dirty stench into the trauma bay. As the patient grimaced silently, distraught hands raking through salt and pepper whiskers, Robby picked fragmented glass out with quick precision. His steady hands grabbed at the next shard of a taillight with his forceps. It was lodged much deeper than was expected. Robby stopped immediately at the sight of bright red arterial bleeding. He turned to grab sutures for the gaping wound. He’d need to stop the hemorrhaging now if the crash victim was going to make it to the real operating table upstairs.
The man went still. Eerily still. The all-too-familiar tone of a flatline resounded loudly in the empty room.
When the doctor shouted for help, none came. He was running out of time. He cried out again to no response. Whirling towards the door for backup, he slid in gooey red slick on the linoleum tile. When he looked down, there wasn’t a puddle of blood. No. It was up to his knees. His hips. His chest. Turning back to his dying patient, struggling to keep his chin above the wretched pool, Robby found himself, dry, in another environment he was well acquainted with. One with cartoon animals on the walls meant to soothe young patients. It was far from empty now. Stretcher after stretcher lined the perimeter. Wall to wall, shoulder to shoulder, head to foot; bodies. Dozens of bodies. A stirring under the nearest sheet urged his most basic instincts to kick in.
He rushed forward.
Robby uncovered the head with a cracking speed, only to find a sandy mess of curls, stuck to a too-pale forehead with a thick layer of viscous rust-colored fluid. Him. The open eyes weren’t the same blue he’d always found solace in. They were greyer. Empty. Affixed blankly to his own, in this dreadful room, they betrayed nothing.
Soulless.
He felt his own lifeforce splinter at the sight. His gut twisted as though a hot blade was separating muscle from fibrous tendon in his abdomen. Crashing to the floor, he heard screaming in a room down the hall. Or maybe miles away. Her.
He stumbled to his feet, forcing his weak knees to deliver his aching body to the tiny person in need. He was running with all of his might. His feet nevertheless moved like they were trudging through thick mud. The crying devolved into a desperate, airless shriek. He was running out of time. He was running out of time. The tiny sound faded to nothing as he dropped to his knees, utterly unable to go on. Giving into the pressure that forced the breath out of his lungs and pushed on his eardrums in a demanding hiss, he dropped his head into his blood-stained hands.
Waking with a jolt, Robby’s hands squeezed at the skin beneath them, confirming his cheeks still pulsed with warmth. He dragged at his eyelids roughly, ensuring they burned with the wet fear that meant he was alive. Robby whipped his foggy head (hard enough to induce a migraine) to his left. Verifying that the man beside him still existed. Still moved with even breathing every few seconds. The hammering in Robby’s ears was still drumming, clouding all reason, dulling his ability to judge reality and fiction. They were indistinguishable at this time of night, in this dark room where he wouldn’t be able to tell if there was light reflecting in the eyes of the man resting beside him.
He tried not to, he really did, but he had to check for Dennis’ pulse. Needed to feel the steady thump of his functioning heart under his own hand.
Dennis stirred. This was nothing he wasn’t used to. Robby got this way occasionally. The younger man wasn’t bothered. Never inconvenienced. He moved closer.
Then it all washed away, the tidal wave of anxiety that threatened to take Robby under was diminished to a mere ripple on the surface of a calm pond by the warm hand that curled into his trimmed hair. His heaving chest and racing mind stilled under the firm, steady, reliable pressure in the pads of Dennis’ fingertips. Robby settled his body lower on the mattress, tucking his face into Dennis’ solid figure, allowing himself to be soothed by the even, subconscious strokes on the back of his head.
Lulled back into sleep, Robby dreamt not of the echoing drone of asystole, but the luminosity of laughter that now resonated so often throughout his once empty home.
Dennis woke up long before Robby. He resolved that it was best that way, deciding to let him sleep in until he absolutely had to be up for work.
Janey, like her fathers, had a far from restful night. She slept in bursts of two hours, requiring Dennis to ease her back into unconsciousness each time. Sleep regression was kicking all of their asses recently. She’d been doing very well sleeping on her own throughout the night for months. Everyone in the house was deeply frustrated by this unprompted change. Dennis reminded himself after the third time she woke up crying that this was natural and bound to blow over soon. Everything changes every couple of weeks with young kids. Wait it out. He repeated it to himself out loud instead of banging his head against the pillow and screaming after the fourth time in one night. It was already 4:30 am at that point so he made the executive decision (not at all influenced by Janey’s refusal to lay back down) that they would start their day a little early. Dennis got her ready for the day, did some chores, and hung out in her floor, reading books and playing with her blocks on her fuzzy pink rug until it was a reasonable hour to start banging around in the kitchen.
Dennis eased Janey’s bread-roll legs into the holes of the baby carrier strapped to his chest and set a frying pan on the hot eye to start breakfast. He was cracking his third egg when Robby walked into the kitchen, fully dressed for his day.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be sleeping,” Dennis waved a frustrated spatula in his direction.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping. It’s your day off.”
“You need it more.” He paused before starting the conversation that had been weighing on his mind since he woke up. “Wanna talk about it?”
Robby took a deliberate breath. “I’m okay. Just… the usual stuff.” Job stuff. Always. It’s important work, what they do. It’s also all-consuming. He made his way to stand behind Dennis at the stove, leaning down to rest his chin on his broad shoulder, wrapping his arms loosely around his hips below the waist strap of Janey’s harness. The noises in Robby’s head could never compete with the buzzing in his very bone marrow at the resonance of Dennis’ voice rumbling against his body. Everything seemed so… manageable when he was this close to him.
“Mm.” Dennis mumbled his understanding into Robby’s scruffy cheek. Whispering into his ear with the sweetest concern Robby’d ever heard poorly masked with an even tone, Dennis asked the important question. “Things aren’t… getting bad again?
“No, no. I would tell you. Trust me.” He scratched his chin, and craned his neck to the side, stiff from jerking in his sleep. “Shit just stays with you, I guess.”
“Okay. I’m here. If you ever need to talk.”
“You being there- being here- is enough. It really is,” Robby trailed off to a whisper as he stroked Dennis’ cheek with a gentle thumb. He cleared his throat.
“Alright. How long have you been up?”
“Not long,” he lied coolly. It was no big deal. Never was. “Thought you might be down for some B in B.”
With a quick tightening of his arms around the younger man, Robby released his hold. He raised one brow and gave his strange partner a confused smile.
“Breakfast in bed. You’re not as sharp on limited sleep.” He laughed, leaning into a kiss with lots of smiling teeth. Robby ducked his face lower, eye to eye with Janey, and planted one on the top of her head too.
“Thank you. But I’d rather help you make it- Did you- Den. You already packed my lunch? Seriously, how long have you been up?” When Dennis’ lips popped open, preparing to defend himself, Robby threw up his hands. “That’s it, step aside.”
He lovingly and impatiently stepped Dennis away from the stove with a strong grip at either bicep and removed the spatula from his stunned grip. Empty handed and mouth agape, Dennis turned to the cabinet to retrieve two big plates and one small plastic one with a green frog face. He set the table quickly before Robby could put up a fight about his insistence in making himself useful. It’s just who he was.
Janey babbled about God knows what as Dennis lifted her out of the carrier and set her into her high chair at the head of the table. She had been bathed, lotioned, changed, and dressed all before 6 a.m. He hoped Robby wouldn’t notice the smell of tear-free shampoo that clung to her dark wisps of hair. Hoped Robby wouldn’t peek into her bedroom where the laundry basket had been emptied, the stack of teeny clothes in all shades of pink put away into her closet neatly. He really didn’t mind handling a morning alone. Sure, he was tired, but he felt so lucky. How truly charmed his life felt now, even as he watched many days pass through sleepy, bleary eyes. The men were always willing to give one another a break. Neither were very good at taking one.
When Robby plated the food, Janey whined. Dennis signed for her to eat with hopeful eyes and an encouraging smile. Eggs weren’t her favorite thing in the world this week but it was what the family could make do with until their trip to the grocery store after Robby got off.
Janey shook her head violently, lifting her butt out of the high chair, arching like a bridge against the buckle holding her in.
“No!”
“JJ, this is our breakfast today,” Dennis corrected gently.
“Nooooo.” God, she had Robby’s hard head.
“Yes. We’re all going to sit here and eat together.” Robby tried calmly and assertively. As assertive as he could, anyways. He was the easier of the two. One more refusal and he’d be washing her up some berries instead. She had Robby wrapped. She also lived on berries at the moment. Berries and crackers.
“No!” She shouted.
He turned to the fridge and began inspecting the container of raspberries.
“Get her a cheese stick too. She needs protein.” Dennis rolled his eyes at how easily he gave into her. He couldn’t be mad. She did need to eat. And it was really sweet. He loved her so much. Dennis smiled. The feeling was mutual. All around. The house was full of love and cracker crumbs.
“PEENITS!”
The men stood still. Eyes flicking to one another. Then to their enigma of a daughter. Back to each other.
“Huh?” Robby broke the silence first.
She was looking at them quite expectantly, obviously shocked they hadn’t understood. She repeated herself a few more times before she balled up her fists and her face scrunched. She had also acquired Dennis’ sass in the time they’d known each other. She started scream-crying the word. Was it a word? They looked around the room for a clue as to what she could have possibly been trying to say.
Robby started pacing the kitchen and pointing in different directions, getting her to guide him to the correct answer. He pointed at the fridge. She screamed. The counter. She screamed. The pantry. She stopped. She nodded her head in jagged little sobs. He opened it. She pointed and cried out again.
“Peenits!”
Their eyes locked on the same red box she was looking at, right in front, label facing out. A box of Cheez-its. They exhaled silent laughter, tears in their eyes as they tried to keep it together. Bingo.
“Ohhhh.” Robby rubbed his mouth, attempting to conceal a tickled smile with little success. Of course. They were her favorite. She preferred them to Goldfish, saltines, even graham crackers. She ate them almost every day. He was shocked they didn’t understand sooner. He didn’t blame little Janey at all for being frustrated. Dennis stood up and made his way out of the kitchen. Robby followed him, picky eater in tow.
“How would you spell that one?” Dennis’ shoulders jolted up and down in stifled snorts, his eyes watery from the struggle against laughing in his unassuming daughter’s precious face. He rounded the couch and marched over to the book shelf in the corner of the living room.
Javadi had started a photo album for them. Probably the same day they announced to their friends their plan to raise Janey. While some others had their concerns, Victoria only had questions. Excited ones, at that. Would they need a babysitter? Did she need clothes? She showed up, not long after that, with a bag of thrifted dresses and a book. A thick scrapbook with a pink gingham cover and lacey trim they had since filled (with her willing and eager assistance) with pages of Janey’s cutest outfits and monthly milestones photos. Page after page of her lying like a baked potato on the floor, growing as they flipped through the book. From the first “3 months” plaque, all the way to her twelfth. It was filled with her first year and a half of life very quickly.
Now, at 18 months, Janey’s chubby cheeks speckled the wall of the living room in thick frames and filled three albums on the shelf. The newest book held lines with blank spaces to fill in her first words, favorite foods, songs she dances (or more accurately wiggles in her carseat) to the most.
Most entries so far were typical. “Da-da” and “hi” and “uh-oh” were the first. They only got stranger as their sweet baby developed her language and confidence in equal measure. She was trying out all kinds of new words, all of which were pronounced incorrectly, albeit adorably.
All Robby could respond with was a chuckle as he handed his partner a pen. Janey on his hip was still reaching, practically throwing herself backwards out of his arms, in the direction of the pantry. Home of the Cheez-Its.
The men went to bed nearly every night with sore cheeks from smiling at her babbling demands. When one of them was at work, the other would notify them with Janey’s newest vocabulary updates.
Dennis flipped to the page of “first words” and scanned the previous entries from the past week or so.
Maw (more)
Beek (pink)
Bup (burp)
He scribbled on the next line,
Peenits (Cheez-its)
He turned the book in the pair’s direction, tapping his pen over the fresh ink. “Two syllables. Our girl’s a genius, Robby.”
“And a budding comic. Is that it, Janey Bean?” Dennis adored the way he spoke to the little girl. Never in a baby voice. Always soft. Easy. “Are you gonna be the next Bob Hope?” The older man scoffed when Dennis’ eyebrows scrunched together. “Come on. Really? Guy’s a legend.”
“Peenits!” Janey squawked impatiently.
“Her comedic timing’s perfect. Let’s work on a tight five.” Dennis bit his lip to keep the quip from erupting out of him with a honking laugh.
She chirped again, “Peas!”
“So bossy,” Robby smiled brightly and tickled her side, obliging in her request (demand) and turning towards the kitchen.
“At least she said ‘peas’ this time.”
The dads had naturally fallen into her speech pattern with one another, using the same lingo as their almost-toddler. It all became an inside joke or shorthand in regular conversation. During Dennis’ last night shift, he received a text.
Robby <3
Have you seen JJ’s baba?
Quicker than typing out “pacifier,” he supposed.
Dennis
Basket on the dresser lol
Robby <3
Got it! Thank you
Robby<3
See you in the morning, “dada”
Dennis
Lol see you then “pop”
According to the book Robby bought on language development, this is frowned upon. They’ve been working on it.
“Cheese,” Robby paused, “its.” He over-enunciated it slowly as he handed Janey a single cracker, trying not to smile too wide. She often got that mischievous glint in her eyes when she sensed her dads found amusement in what she was doing or saying. She had it now. “Cheez-Its.”
“Peenits,” she tried again, teeny teeth exposed in a smug smile. As smug as a one-and-a-half-year-old can be.
“It’s gotta be on purpose.”
“She’s not plotting against us, Robby. Look. Jane Bug. Cheese…Its. Cheese…” he waited.
“Heez,” she repeated.
“Its.”
“Ih.” Close enough.
“Cheez-Its.” He stated.
“Peenits!”
“Cheez-Its, Janey.” Dennis really did not want a talk from the teachers at daycare about this.
“Maw.”
“Dammit.”
“Dammit!” She grinned.
Great. She says that one clear as crystal.
“I’m not putting that in the book.” Dennis peeked a glance at Robby. He expected nothing less than what he found. He was stifling the laugh of all laughs, red in the face and turned fully away from Janey’s searching eyes. She loved an audience.
“Oh, it’s goin in the book,” he breathed slowly through his mouth and shook his head. They’d performed surgeries on the spot. They graduated from medical school. This was still up there as one of the hardest things Robby had ever had to do. He schooled the smile on his lips before turning back to Dennis and their baby who was getting funnier by the day. One look in Dennis’ scared, guilty eyes broke through his hard-earned resolve. He burst out laughing and walked out of the room when Janey followed suit.
Before Robby left for work, he gave the two a big hug and a kiss.
“It’s gonna be a shorter day since I’m scheduled to come in tomorrow too but call if you need anything. Text if you miss me.”
“We certainly will.” Dennis held out the travel mug filled to the brim with fresh black coffee. Robby accepted it gratefully. His eyes sparkled in earnest appreciation. More than simply brewing a pot of coffee deserved. He looked at Dennis this way often. Most of the time, actually. Dennis’ stomach flipped and his chest panged. He knew why.
“I love you. Enjoy your day with our girl.” He turned his attention to Janey, ducking his head down to meet her eyes. “Be good. I love you.”
“We love you, too, Robby. Have a good day.” He snuck another quick kiss and pushed him out the door when Robby tried to drag it out. He’d be late if didn’t leave now. Not that anything would happen if he was. He was there to stay. He held that place together.
In the few months he’d taken away on his sabbatical, the ED fell into complete disarray. His anxious energy had been a little stressful on everyone before his departure but once he left, residents were lost. Med students were lacking the proper training. Sure, they were taught the basics— the necessities of performing the tasks of an emergency medicine physician— but they weren’t given the lessons that Robby imbued on everyone who rotated through his department. Their bedside manner was abysmal. Empathy was at an all-time low–A dangerous, ill-fitting attitude for a hospital. Gloria’s precious patient evaluation scores plummeted even further. There were only three reasons there was still a hospital to return to. Abbot, Al-Hashimi, and Dana. Jack took on a lot of Robby’s mental load at work whereas Al-Hashimi was responsible for the rest as well as taking on the position of full-time chief attending. Dana was Dana. PTMC would burn down if not for Dana.
Upon Robby’s return, he took a huge step back. He needed it. He would have needed to do that whether Janey was in the picture or not. Dennis knew he wouldn't have.
He came back into his role but only part-time. Al-Hashimi stayed on to support his shifts and supplement the ones he was home. Robby negotiated many more days off a month. He was even able to swing a shift every other day. Being so early in his career, Dennis couldn't afford to take the same time away. He managed to finagle his way into some alternating day and night shifts with a day off in between. Jack’s doing. He was still on call but it was something. On the days neither of them would be home or just needed to catch up on sleep, Janey was at daycare. Robby scouted a dozen places before deciding Sunny Sprouts was suitable. She enjoyed it fine. They all much preferred the rarity that was a day at home, all together on the couch, two dads and a Janey.
Dennis watched out the window as Robby’s car backed out of the driveway and slowly pulled onto the street. His motorcycle leaned against the side of the garage, rarely ridden, occasionally washed. When Robby did go for the occasional ride, he wore a helmet and full riding gear. Dennis hadn’t begged. Hadn’t brought it up at all, in fact. Just something Robby did.
Dennis turned to Janey in his arms and popped a smooch on her squishy cheek before setting her down to waddle her way into the kitchen herself. He gave her a lot of independence on their days off together. She would put her own cup into the sink with his help, throw away her own napkins, and pick up her toys when she was finished with them. He read books or sang to her to pass the time. Dennis spoke to her in a normal voice while he told stories about his day, careful to exclude anything too graphic about her fathers’ profession.
He sighed happily as he grabbed the red cracker box and sat at the table. Today, they’d work on pronunciation.