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Summary
Jack crossed the room and leaned down just enough to press a quick kiss to Dennis's forehead before brushing an equally quick one across Robby's temple.
"There," he said. "Everyone's been greeted."
Robby rolled his eyes. Jack looked back at Dennis, taking in the blankets, the way he was tucked into Robby's side, and the faint color that had returned to his face.
"...Can I have my turn?"
OR: Dennis has been sick for three years. The specialists have no answers. The tests keep coming back mostly normal, and he's gotten very good at pretending he can still keep up. Unfortunately for him, his coworkers (and his boyfriends) are starting to notice.