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It had been an unusually quiet shift in the PTMC emergency department – only minor injuries, patients that came in for overheating, and the usual visitors, including Myrna, of course. Nothing that would have caused one of Robby's resident doctors to sneak away rather obviously after spending the past twelve hours seeming unusually tense. And yet here the older doctor was, watching Dennis Whitaker bolt up the staircase after struggling to push down the door-handle with his shaking hands. A sight that made him wonder if he had missed something crucial.
"There you are, been lookin' all over for you." Robby heard a voice yell out from behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know it was his charge nurse calling out to him.
"Ah, and here I was thinking I could finally leave this hellhole behind." Smiling, he turned around to face her.
"Abbot's looking for you, he's out in the ambulance bay. Mentioned something about you burning spaghetti?" The blonde's raised eyebrows mocking him as he raised his own hands defensively and turned to walk towards where his husband was waiting for him.
Robby knew that Jack would get mad at him for burning the spaghetti, but he didn't think it would happen so soon – the burnt pasta left his favorite pot unusable; a crisis both doctors couldn't solve. Still, he had set his mind to fixing the mistake he made, for that pot had survived longer than any of their other household essentials – maybe because it was a gift from Robby's grandma, and it came into their lives with good intentions.
Stepping out into the warmth of the night, the doctor was met with the sight of his husband grinning at him. "Next time try setting a timer so you don't destroy our last piece of good cooking equipment."
"Hey, that was totally not my fault, I had to answer the door to accept your package." Robby laughed defensively. That excuse was only partly true, as he had answered the door before even starting to cook the spaghetti. But Jack didn't need to know that.
"I see…well, then…I don't know…give me until the end of shift to come up with another accusation for you." Abbot teased. But when his husband didn't bitch back, he stared at him with creased eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing…it's just– The shift was easy, nothing major happening except for Myrna terrifying Emma when begging to use a proper bathroom, but you know, it's Myrna, you get used to it." Chuckling, Jack waited for his husband to confess what was bothering him.
"So, anyway, shift was good. But for whatever reason Whitaker took off sprinting upstairs, barely managing to open the door…I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking this but I feel like something is wrong. Has been wrong for a while now."
Abbot put a hand on Robby's upper arm and sighed. "You're not the only one feeling like that 'bout the kid. Something's off. I saw him when I went to put my stuff into the locker and he was there too. Looked absolutely terrified. I asked Santos about it but she said it was just the usual stuff, their horrible apartment and something about the time of year not being his favorite."
"Hm." Robby grunted. It didn't sit right with him. "I don't know, I have to do something before this turns into another thing like with Langdon…can't lose another one because he felt like he couldn't talk to me. I just have to come up with a plan, confronting him directly doesn't sit right with me. Hell, I don't even know what the problem is, let alone how to solve it."
"You know it might help if he slept a night or two in a proper bed without worrying about the ceiling collapsing in on him…"
"What?" Robby laughed. "You want me to bring him over?"
"Yeah, I mean we spoke about this a lot, and unless you start acting on it you won't be able to satisfy your need to care for someone. That way you'd have some more time to figure out what's wrong. Besides, I wouldn't mind seeing that kid finally happy again and we might just be able to achieve that."
Robby's eyebrows creased. "If you say so. But don't get mad at me if you come home and your side of the bed is blocked by our puppy resident here."
"As long as you two manage to fix that pot I'm not complaining."
Robby chuckled and took his husband's hand in his, before stepping back into the emergency department to make his way up the stairs to find Whitaker.
The journey upstairs felt like an eternity. Normally he enjoyed the monotony of walking up so many flights of stairs, but the prospect of finding a possibly distraught resident made his insides turn. He had no plan as to what he was gonna do, let alone how he was gonna help. All he knew was that Whitaker was the type of person who always looked like he needed saving; someone to protect him from this world. But when he opened the door to the roof, Robby was taken aback by the sight in front of him.
The curly haired young man was sitting in the middle of the roof, his crossed legs making him seem even smaller than he was. Shaking and an occasional ragged breath being the only thing proving he was alive and not some statue misplaced. Taking slow steps towards the tiny figure, Robby crouched down in front of him.
"Dennis?" The younger man slowly raised his head, slightly turning it to the side like a puppy first discovering its name.
"Hey." Robby smiled at him. "There you are. You okay?" Nothing changed in Whitaker's position or facial expression as he remained silent, only filling the air with the sound of his ragged breathing. His eyes were unusually glassy, as if someone had forgotten to clean the windows for years in a row. The blue of his irises was replaced by his enlarged pupils, leaving the head of the emergency department to feel his heart tear. He was nothing but a kid pushed into an adult life with adult responsibilities. What Dennis needed was somebody to take this burden off of him, but so far no one had stepped up to do that. Robby wouldn't sit around any longer and watch his resident get torn apart by the world around him.
"Dennis can you tell me what happened? It's okay, I just wanna know how to help you best." But the curly haired man stayed silent.
"Okay…you know what?" Robby stood up, knees crackling, took off his jacket, and put it around the shaking shoulders in front of him. Then, he moved around the body still giving off ragged breaths, before sitting down behind him, bringing his arms around his and interlocking them to put pressure on the distressed doctor. Whitaker tensed up even more, if that was even possible. He felt trapped, like all those years ago when his father threatened him into a corner with his belt, until the whimpering boy finally complied.
"It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you. Just relax. I'll keep you safe." He took a deep breath, hoping that the younger one would mirror him. It took multiple attempts, but eventually he followed, allowing for tears to fall down his crimson cheeks.
"Shh, that's it. You're okay." Robby hushed. Suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit his body, Dennis let his head fall back, right onto the muscular shoulder of his boss. Normally, he would freak out over this, but his brain had distanced itself from reality so far that he no longer realized what was actually happening, let alone that he could feel embarrassed about it. Letting his head rest felt so nice, and the pressure of the arms around him caused his body to create something similar to lightning in his chest – a comfortable, repeating wave of warmth spreading through him, slowly pushing away the anxiety. It wasn't often that he felt comfortable, let alone safe, but right now he couldn't imagine being anywhere but on the floor of that roof, letting his tired body lean against someone else. Someone who would carry his weight for at least a moment. At least for now.
"I don't know what happened today to cause this, but whatever it is, Dennis, I want you to know that you don't have to carry it alone. I know it can be scary, but sometimes trusting someone can make it a lot easier to breath, even for just a moment. You don't have to tell me what's wrong, hell, we don't even have to talk about this right here ever again, but if you want someone to help you carry whatever it is, I am here, and I would be willing to. And as would Jack, as long as I don't burn his favorite pot again…" The resident didn't reply, or even move, but Robby could feel his shoulders relax a little at the sound of those words. From what the older man could see, the tears were starting to subside, just as the sun set in front of them. Trying to get the bundle in his arms to calm down further, Robby started to slowly rock from one side to the other. It felt a bit childish, but really, what he was holding in his arms was nothing but a terrified child, yearning for some safety. So, why shouldn't it work on him, too?
The two stayed in that position until the last light reflected off of the buildings, the occasional car reminding them that there were still other people out there. The attending was so sure that he had finally gotten the younger man back to a somewhat calm state, if one were to ignore the still glassed over eyes that had stayed zoned out, but when a loud bang erupted, all of their progress vanished within seconds. Dennis tensed up again, tried to wiggle himself out of the embrace, started making noises as if he were a tortured animal.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, I got you." Robby murmured, strengthening his grip on the other man's body, but failing as he rose to his feet quicker than anyone could look. "Dennis. Listen to me. Nothing bad is happening." He took his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the roof.
"Come on, let me get you out of here." He was met with terrified eyes. Then, a small, shaky nod. He let out the breath he was holding. That was something he could work with. Guiding the yet again shaking body down the stairs proved to be harder than expected as he had to stop him from falling down multiple times. When they reached the ground floor, Robby hurried them towards the lockers, where he took both of their backpacks, before waiting for the hallway to clear and guiding them out towards the parking lot. There, he unlocked his car, placed Whitaker in the passenger seat, and buckled his seatbelt. Tossing their belongings into the trunk, the doctor then walked around to the driver's side door, before taking out his phone and typing a quick message to his husband.
Whitaker is completely terrified, thought I had made progress but some loud noise from the road scared the shit out of him again. Got him in my car, gonna take him to our place now. Don't have a plan for what comes after but maybe what works on drunk patients also works on scared residents? Will keep you updated. Hope I will get somewhere with this.
Returning his phone to his pocket, Robby got into the car, closed the door as carefully as possible to not startle the trembling mess even further, and turned on the radio. I'm On Fire was playing, how ironic, Robby thought. Leaning his heavy head on the cold window, Whitaker continued staring out into the abyss; his mind had stopped producing thoughts a long time ago, leaving him with only a constricting feeling in his chest – he couldn't quite place where it stemmed from. What he knew though was that his boss was so, so kind. A kindness that pushed the movie playing in front of his eyes further away than anything else had ever managed to in the last decade or so. He knew he should be worried about what was happening right now, both inside and outside his mind, but the feeling of someone taking charge and stopping him from worrying about anything at all felt too peaceful. He wasn't ready to give it up just yet; not after spending years begging for someone to come and hold him, even for just a moment.
Robby knew that his charge wouldn't remember much of what he was saying, but he spent the entire drive softly rambling about nothing at all. "When we get to my place you can take a shower if you want, and I'll use the time to clean that pot…or maybe not, I'll just lose my temper and I don't think that would benefit anyone much. But we'll see about dinner, and then maybe you want to tell me what happened today, hm?"
But he didn't get a reply. The older doctor sighed. He wasn't mad, just worried; slightly terrified of making a mistake and not knowing what he was supposed to do. It took him until he had parked the car to notice the message Jack had sent him.
Maybe don't treat him like he has a hangover. Try comfort, domesticity. What works to calm kids down could also help what I only imagine to be a traumatized resident…take over control, but let him make small choices. If he stays in that state for too long let me know & I'll stop by to see what I can do.
Robby was thankful for his husband's expertise on treating mental health crises, especially because he was the one seeing a therapist regularly, not Robby. And, to be fair, Whitaker did look a lot like a terrified child – not talking, lack of motor skills caused mostly by his trembling, and the inability to calm down on his own. Maybe the older one had to shoot his shot and see what happens. It could not get any worse than this, right?
So, the chief of the emergency department got out of his car and put both of their backpacks over his shoulder, before opening the passenger side door, unbuckling Dennis's seatbelt, and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to navigate him towards the house. He could still feel a small tremble going through his body, but it was harmless compared to how he first found him on the hospital roof. He could manage the situation.
Unlocking the front door, he led the younger man inside, closed the door behind himself, placing the bags down. Taking off his own jacket and shoes, he stared at the curly haired man for a moment. He wasn't moving. Just staring straight ahead. Jack's message was playing in his head. What works to calm kids down could also help what I only imagine to be a traumatized resident…take over control, but let him make small choices. And so, Robby took his dark green jacket off of the younger mans shoulders, before crouching down to untie the laces of his shoes. "C'mon, let's get you inside." he murmured. He couldn't quite place if Dennis was looking at him, or through him, but for now that was enough of an answer for him to lead the younger one into the kitchen.
The floor in the kitchen was made out of solid wood, with dark brown cabinets and small, crocheted curtains spreading a warmth through the room. A creak went through the air when the older doctor stepped in front of the sink, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. He did it ever so methodically as if he were at work, turning to dry his hands on a kitchen towel when he noticed the curly haired man standing beside him, mirroring his movements. Cold water running past his pulse points, soft cotton brushing over his hands. The sensations were turned down but still recognizable, making Dennis pause for a moment to question if he was remembering everything correctly. Water – soap – water – dry hands. Yes, he hadn't forgotten about it. How could he ever step in front of his boss's eyes again if he had witnessed him unable to wash his hands? It would have ended like all those years ago when his mother hit with a dish towel after trying to wash his hands in the kitchen sink – something that was forbidden, for the kitchen sink wasn't made to wash your hands in. He could still feel the sharp sting on his shoulder where the towel had hit him; the burning afterwards never really went away. Neither did the feeling of his body being on fire, hearing his mother scream. This is not a sink. The water will leave stains on the metal. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't wash your hands in the kitchen? Dennis didn't even notice the strong hands turning him away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom.
"Dennis can you look at me?" Robby pleaded, not sure what had caused his charge to turn catatonic. When he didn't get an answer, let alone any sign of life, he paused for a second before applying his er strategy.
What were the facts? Whitaker wasn't moving, or talking, or reacting.
What was the most likely explanation? He got triggered by something. It was probably something that happened at work, and now he is spiraling.
What can be done to improve the situation quickly? Change his surroundings, surprise his mind with different input, keep him safe.
Moving the younger one to sit down on the bed, the attending started rummaging through his closet, hoping to find something that would fit. A dark grey pair of shorts and a washed out blue hoodie is what he came up with. It would be enough for a night. Tossing the clothes and a towel over his arms, he led the two of them into the adjoining bathroom. It was cool in there, and quiet, the first thing that Dennis noticed after minutes of reliving what was once a daily occurrence between him and his mother.
"There you are, hey." Robby smiled at him. A weight fell off of his shoulders watching the glassy blue eyes slowly take in his surroundings. He could handle this, he thought. He didn't need to call Jack. They could make it work.
"Do you want to shower on your own or do you want me to help you?" Unusual, considering he was talking to his resident, but an attempt at giving Dennis back some control. When he saw the curly hair move into a small nod, the attending let out a breath.
"Okay, then let me fill up the bathtub while you undress." Turning the handle to a comfortable temperature, the dark haired man watched the water slowly fill up the tub. Water flowing was the only sound filling the room, making Robby turn back to his charge, who was now sitting on the side of the bathtub, once again staring off into space.
"Lift up your arms for me, Den." The words echoed, until Dennis slowly lifted his hands over his head. Tugging at the seam of his dark scrubs, Robby eventually managed to pull them over his head, revealing nothing but a pale, slightly bruised chest covered in kt tape. To say he was surprised would be a lie, though he wished Dennis could have come out to him in a different, more self-determined way.
"Do you want me to remove the tape or do you want it to stay on?" Dennis shook his head.
"Hurts."
"If it hurts you then we really should take it off. You've been wearing it for more than twelve hours, I'm guessing even more considering how those bruises look."
The younger one shook his head again. "Hurts." he repeated in a small voice. It was only then that Robby understood what he meant. It wasn't the tape that hurt, but taking it off.
"Sorry, yeah, of course." He ran his hand through his dark hair, then through his beard. "Do you want me to try and use medical glue remover? We have some lying around somewhere…"
That got Dennis to raise his head. Smiling at him, Robby took to turning his bathroom upside down, trying to find what he needed to not hurt the kid even more. Tucked away in a corner of a shelve that definitely needed fixing, he found the ominous bottle. He knew it would make the irritated skin sting, but it was the best option he had. Leaving the tape on would just result in Jack scolding him once he explained the events of this night.
Dripping some of the oil-like solution onto the tape, he got started on removing it. Dennis, still stuck somewhere between dissociation and what could only be considered a younger state of mind, barely took notice of the strong fingers working around his ribcage and chest – Robby had prepared himself to hear his charge whine in pain as he touched his bruises, but Dennis stayed quiet. He was too busy trying to ignore the obvious.
They would yell at him, hit him in the face, scream. Again. How he was mentally incapable. How he was trying to ruin their lives. All while blood was dripping down his arms and legs.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Dennis shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the memories. That got Robby to pause.
"Hey, kiddo, look at me. You're in Jack's and my bathroom, nothing bad is happening. It's just us. I'm almost done removing the tape and then you can take a bath. And after that we'll see what's next. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, okay?"
He didn't get a reply, but a set of eyes staring at him, pleading. His chest constricted. How could someone look at him and proceed to hurt him in a way that left him in such a vulnerable state? Knowing he couldn't fix this, Robby set his mind to pouring as much love into the younger one as was humanly possible.
Once all of the tape was removed, he finished helping Dennis undress, before guiding him into the bathtub. Taking off his scrub top, the attending was crouching at the side in his long sleeved shirt and cargo pants. Whimpering at the sensation of water hitting his open wounds and sore torso, Whitaker curled in on himself, leaving Robby with no other choice but to stroke his head in an attempt to calm him down.
Jack's shampoo was made for curly hair and smelled like strawberries, creating small bubbles as Robby massaged it into Dennis's hair. He slowly uncurled himself, feeling his body relax at the sensation on his head, despite not being entirely sure that he should trust what was happening. He knew Robby, and he knew that he would never do something to purposely hurt him, but he was so, so scared. Everything was uncertain, and the world was so big. And he, Dennis, was just a scared child after all, wasn't he? But the feeling in his chest said something else. It told him to trust Robby, to let him take over control, to let him take care of Dennis. Maybe he could try that, just for once. If it went south, it would be like all the other times growing up; there would be no difference. It wouldn't matter, would it?
Letting his legs move away from his chest, Dennis relaxed into the touch. "There is my good boy. I'll take care of you, I promise." Robby murmured, now rinsing out his hair, before applying some of Jack's conditioner, and carefully brushing through his curls.
The older man often helped Jack wash his hair when he came home too tired to function after having yet another night shift keep him from sitting down for even a moment. It became part of one of their more domestic routines, keeping their marriage from getting lost in between their turbulent shifts. Now attempting the same with Dennis reminded Robby once more how grateful he was for the safety he was living in – no one in his life made him or his husband feel so scared that they lost their ability to function; washing his husband's hair was a simple act of comfort after a long shift, and not a sign of crisis.
Rinsing out the conditioner, the attending then helped Dennis wash the rest of his body, only stopping short when he flinched at the touch of his back. Dennis wanted to say something, wanted to apologize, but no words came out – he couldn't place whether it was out of fear or because his brain had regressed to a point where any coherent thought was too much to handle.
"Shhh, it's okay. We're almost done." Robby whispered. A shiver ran though Dennis's body.
Once all shampoo was removed and the water could be heard draining, Dennis lifted his body to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was the most he could manage, as his limbs felt too weak to carry him further. With his mind foggier than it had ever been, he didn't even notice that he was making grabbing hands towards Robby.
Feeling his heart melt, Robby wrapped a towel around the small shoulders, before lifting Dennis up. "Okay, kid, how about we get–" Feeling a head rest on his shoulder and arms wrapping tightly around his neck, the older man tried his best to balance him on his hip, while grabbing the hoodie and shorts to move them towards the king sized bed. Old plan thrown overboard, he tried to set Dennis down again. Whimpering at the sudden loss of human-sized comfort, the blue eyes started to fill with tears.
"Just give me a minute to get you dressed, Den, and then I can pick you back up again, I promise." He sighed, wishing for his husband to be here. That way, one of them could hold the little one while the other one got him dressed. Instead, he was over here, having to force the child back into uncertainty because the standard human being came with only two arms, instead of four. He felt so bad for letting go, even if it was only temporarily.
Taking multiple attempts to put the clothes onto the squirming kid, Robby finally succeeded, positioning Dennis back onto his hip. Immediately, the whining stopped, and instead a hand found the collar of his shirt and held onto it. Moving into the living room, the attending turned on the TV, flipping through channel after channel trying to find a kids show to watch. Thinking back to the situation they had in the kitchen, Robby was unsure what show to settle on, as he had yet to figure out what triggered Dennis into this state. Watching the younger one squirm in his hold as he switched his fifth channel, Robby felt like giving up. Maybe they should resort back to reading. Then, the face of a blue dog lit up on the screen, and Dennis turned his head sideways, like he did back on the roof.
Apparently he doesn't know that one, Robby thought.
Placing him down on the sofa, the older man explained softly: "I'll be in the kitchen making dinner, but I'll be right back, okay?"
Getting an approving hum, he felt his shoulders relax for the first time in hours. He would be fine; they both would.
Stepping into the kitchen, he was once again reminded of the mess he had made earlier in the day – the burnt pot was still there. It had to wait though, as he prepared everything to make grilled cheese sandwiches, hoping it would please the little one. Waiting for the pan to heat up, Robby took out his phone and dialed his husband's number.
"Didn't think I'd hear from you so soon, everything alright or did you burn yet another pot?" He heard Jack's voice on the other end of the line.
"Funny. So far things are looking okay, I don't know. Something triggered Den when we got home, but he calmed down after taking a bath and even got really clingy afterwards. Right now I have him parked in front of the TV so I can hopefully make dinner before his brain decides to torture him again. How's your shift going?" He ran a hand over his beard and past his throat, letting it rest on his shoulder.
"Oh, you know, the usual…" But Robby didn't get to hear the rest of his sentence as the front door opened and his husband stepped inside.
Grinning, he walked towards Jack and wrapped his arms around him. "What are you doing here so early? Your shift has barely begun."
"Ellis took over for me, said I should go home and help you. Word got around that something was up with Whitaker, so…" he explained, taking a look at the grilled cheese sandwiches waiting to be put into the pan, before he turned to wash his hands.
"Do you want me to finish dinner so you can go hang out with the little one?" Jack asked.
"No, I'm almost done here anyway and I think you know more about that dog show than I do." Robby replied, chuckling.
"Hey, just because my therapist thinks that Bluey is a good resource for both kids and traumatized adults doesn't mean I'm an expert when it comes to its contents." The curly haired man moved towards the living room, before hearing his husband whisper: "Besides, you're the one who knows about coping with trauma, and this seems a lot like his brain regressed to a younger state to protect him from whatever horrors he had to relive today."
Jack hummed in approval, before joining Dennis on the couch. "Hey kiddo, I heard you were watching Bluey?" The younger one nodded. "First time?" Another nod. "You mind if I join? I've seen a few episodes myself, but that was a while ago and I could really use the refresh."
Without looking at him, Dennis mumbled "You hug?", pulling on his fingers while waiting for a reply.
"You want me to hug you? Sure, buddy, come here." Opening his arms, Jack watched him crawl into the embrace and rest his head on his chest, leaving one hand at the collar of his scrubs, and the other one buried between their bodies. One to make sure he wouldn't leave, and the other one to prove this was all real.
In the background, a new episode of Bluey had started playing. Jack wasn't sure if Dennis was even paying attention to it, but he didn't care. He was glad to see that the distraught resident had calmed down and stopped shaking – otherwise Abbot would have had to consider putting him on lorazepam to protect his psyche from taking further damage; something he did not feel comfortable putting the younger man through. But for now, that was something Jack didn't have to think about, as he held Dennis in his arms, listening to the soft hums of the TV and his husband in the kitchen.
"You see how that dog felt like he needed to go into the black hole, just to feel really weird until he let his friends pull him back out? Maybe that is what you need to do, Den. Maybe just like in that episode you have to rely on people to help you through hard moments. Robby is here, and I am here, and I bet there are so many more people around you that would help you through those moments. You just have to trust us, even if it goes against all that you know. We'll keep you safe, honey, I promise you that." Jack murmured, stroking a hand through the younger one's curly hair. Dennis probably wouldn't remember much of this, but for now the older one was glad that everything was alright. Maybe this was more about creating a new, save memory, rather than trying to fix an old one. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to Dennis's head. He recognized the scent. It was his shampoo.
Meanwhile, Robby was in the kitchen, halfheartedly cleaning up the mess he had made while waiting for the last grilled cheese sandwich to finish cooling down. He put two sandwiches on a plate for Jack and two on a plate for himself. Then, he took the remaining two sandwiches and placed them onto a dark blue plastic plate – a remainder from the time he first moved into college and couldn't afford real plates. Using it to protect Dennis from hurting himself in case he accidently dropped the plate gave it a new purpose; one that Robby felt more comfortable looking back on than the days where he kept himself alive with Pop Tarts and buttered toast.
Picking all three plates up, he made his way into the living room.
"You two look comfy, think you have some room left for me?"
Jack smiled as he watched his husband move past him to sit to Dennis's left. Pulling the resident further towards himself to make room for Robby, he watched how dilated blue pupils found their way towards the man holding the plates.
"Either he's starving or he's surprised to find that he actually gets to eat." Jack chuckled.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Robby passed the plates around.
"There you go, kiddo, this one's just for you." Abbot explained, already chewing on his own dinner.
Robby couldn't help but watch his charge slowly pick up the food, forehead slightly creased. His stomach was starting to knot. What happened to make this kid so afraid of literally everything? He knew that they had to do something, or else this would just end up with Dennis spiraling into yet another flashback; apparently he wasn't used to any kind of caretaking at all. But before he could say anything to reassure the little one, Jack chimed in, trying to form a sentence between chewing and taking another bite.
"Don't worry, this is your grilled cheese and no one gets to take it. Eat it. Nothing bad will happen, I promise."
Hesitantly taking a small bite, Dennis carefully eyed his surroundings, waiting for the yelling to start, for someone to tell him that he didn't deserve this after how he had been acting. But nothing happened.
He let out a breath. He chewed, swallowed, took another bite. Until there was nothing but crumbs left on his blue plate. Looking up at Robby, he waited for instructions on what to do next.
Put his plate into the dishwasher. Take the other plates with him, too. Don't place them on the counter – it got cleaned earlier. Wash his hands. But not in the kitchen sink, it wasn't made for handwashing. Take out the trash, you don't even know how to do that anymore, do you? You never do anything around the house. Everything you do do around the house is wrong.
"Buddy you want anything to drink?" The dark haired man asked, breaking Dennis out of his spiral.
A small nod, followed by a question barely above a whisper.
"Juice? 's late but can I?"
Pleading eyes looking from Robby to Jack, and then back to Robby.
"Sure, just gotta find a cup to put it in. Jack you want something?"
Shaking his head, the curly haired attending watched the kids face light up with a smile. The first one he had seen in a long time. Turning his attention back towards the TV, Jack let his mind turn off as the dogs on screen rambled on. It took him a long time to admit it, but he enjoyed the quiet moments like this one, without people needing to be patched up or accidentally getting shot at. He knew he needed to protect his domesticity, especially because it meant protecting Robby, and now Dennis, too, at the same time.
Returning to the living room with a glass and a straw, Robby decided to settle down on the floor in front of the couch. Since he couldn't find a cup with a lid on it, he had no choice but to hold the glass while Dennis drank out of it, as he didn't want to risk another breakdown if the resident dropped the glass. To his surprise, the younger one didn't mind this a bit, looking content while sipping his juice and watching his show.
Once the glass had been emptied, Dennis turned his body back towards Jack, burying himself in his chest. Now hidden behind the dark scrubs his husband was wearing, Robby watched his charge yawn, desperately fighting the urge to fall asleep. As if on cue, Jack moved his body to stand up, heaving Dennis into the air once he was standing securely on the ground. Turning the TV off, the dark haired man waited to follow the two towards their next destination.
"I think it's time for all of us to go to bed, hm, Buddy?"
Shaking his head into the curly haired man's shoulder, the resident let himself be carried to the bedroom, where he was placed in the middle of the bed. Whining at the sudden loss of contact, Robby now settled down next to his little one, watching him almost crawl into his body. Changing into a shirt and shorts, and quickly brushing his teeth, Jack removed his prosthetic before lying down on the other side of Dennis, and dimming the lights.
As Robby went into the bathroom to brush his own teeth, Jack thought about taking Dennis into the bathroom too, but felt like he would disturb the younger one's newfound peace by making him get up again. He would survive one night without brushing his teeth. The world wouldn't end.
Watching Robby return to bed, Abbot smiled as they all settled down under the covers. They had yet to figure out what had caused Dennis to spiral like this, but it could wait until the morning. There was no reason to put him through the stress of reliving the day when they had just gotten him settled down; Jack tried to tell himself that he would be fine. That waiting to talk about it could sometimes be more helpful than forcing someone through it. He would be fine. They all would be.
Closing his eyes, Jack got comfortable in his bed. More out of habit than out of necessity, he turned on the radio on his bedside table, faintly hearing Bruce Springsteen sing.
At night, I wake up with the sheets soakin' wet and a freight train runnin' through the middle of my head. Only you can cool my desire, oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire.
Unlike in the song, he didn't feel like he was on fire, and neither did Robby. And, for the first time in a long, long time, neither did Dennis, who had rested his head on Robby's chest, and one hand on Jack's biceps, to make sure neither of them could leave. More out of habit, than out of necessity. For he knew that he was save, and they would not leave.