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The ED is loud… has been all day. Monitors beeping, stretchers rolling, nurses shouting orders. Thank God there are only roughly 30 minutes left until night crew takes over.
Robby is leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee between patients. Dennis is charting, half-listening to Robby’s little noises.
That’s when it happens… Robby takes a sip… and winces.
Dennis’s head snaps up instantly.
“What was that?”
Robby blinks. “What was what?”
“That face. You made a face.”
Robby laughs. “I didn’t make a face.”
“You did,” Dennis says, already stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
Robby shrugs. “Probably a cavity. My tooth’s been buggin’ me all day.”
Dennis freezes. His eyes go wide and unfocused.
Robby’s smile fades. “Dennis?”
Dennis’s voice comes out too sharp, too loud. “Which tooth?”
“What—”
“Upper or lower? Sharp pain or dull? Radiating? Any bleeding? Any swelling? Fever? Headache? Chest tightness? Shortness of breath?”
Robby’s eyes widen as Dennis spirals. “Hey. Hey. Stop.”
Dennis’s breathing spikes.
His hands shake.
His voice rises.
“You need to get checked. Right now. We need to get imaging. Labs. You could be— it could be—”
Dana turns to look as Dennis’s voice rises with each word. Dennis doesn’t notice, but Robby does.
He steps forward, grabs Dennis’s wrist firmly.
“Dennis. Come with me.”
Dennis jerks back. “Robby, I’m serious!”
“I know,” Robby says, voice low and steady. “Just… come with me.”
Dennis is shaking so badly he can’t argue. Robby pulls him down the hall, past the supply closet, into an empty trauma bay. He shuts the door behind them.
The noise of the ED muffles instantly.
Dennis is breathing too fast, pacing, hands in his hair.
Robby steps in front of him. “Dennis, I need you to look at me. Calm down, baby.”
Dennis snaps, voice cracking as a frustrated tear runs down his cheek:
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”
Robby doesn’t flinch.
He steps closer, hands up but gentle. “Okay. Okay. You don’t have to calm down. Just look at me.”
Dennis tries.
His eyes flick up, glassy and terrified.
Robby softens. “Talk to me.”
Dennis’s voice breaks.
“I can’t— I can’t go through that again.”
Robby’s expression shifts to something softer. “Can’t go through what, Den?”
Dennis keeps going, voice shaking:
“You said your tooth hurt and I— I just— I can’t lose you too.”
Robby’s chest tightens. He knows exactly what Dennis means. Not even a week has passed since Louie died under Dennis’s care.
Louie came in with a toothache and died.
Fuck.
It was all still too fresh. Too raw.
Robby steps closer, gently taking Dennis’s wrists.
“Dennis. Breathe with me.”
Dennis shakes his head. “I can’t— I can’t—”
“Yes you can,” Robby murmurs. “Right here. With me.”
He inhales slowly. Dennis tries to follow but his breath catches halfway.
Robby squeezes his hands. “Again.”
They inhale together.
Then again.
And again.
Dennis’s shoulders finally drop. His breathing evens out. His eyes clear just enough to focus.
Robby brushes his thumb over Dennis’s knuckles. “There you go.”
Robby leans forward, presses their foreheads together in an effort to ground Dennis in his post-panicked state.
“Head to the locker room and grab your stuff,” he murmurs. “There’s only about 10 minutes left… I’m taking you home.”
Dennis nods, small and shaky… far too exhausted emotionally to argue.
Twenty minutes later, they walk through the front door of their shared home.
Shoes off.
Scrubs tossed in the hamper.
A quick shower together before they are in their pajamas and standing together in the bedroom.
Robby turns around to meet Dennis halfway.
“Come here.”
Dennis goes to him immediately — like gravity.
Robby wraps his arms around him. Dennis melts into him so fast it’s almost startling — hands gripping Robby’s shirt, forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath shaking.
Robby holds him tighter. “There you are.”
Dennis’s voice is muffled. “I’m sorry… for falling apart at work.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.”
“I just— when you said your tooth hurt— I thought— I couldn’t… fuck…”
Robby rubs slow circles on Dennis’s back. “I know… I know.”
Dennis’s breath catches. “I can’t lose you.”
Robby’s voice goes soft and firm. “You’re not going to.”
Dennis finally breaks — quietly, the way he always does. No sobbing, just that trembling collapse where his whole body gives up and leans on Robby completely.
Robby holds him through all of it. No questions. No pressure. Just steady warmth and reassurance.
After a long moment, Robby murmurs into Dennis’s hair:
“I’ll getting my tooth checked tomorrow.”
Dennis nods against him, small and soft and exhausted.
“Love you.”
"Love you too, Den."