Chapter Text
Dennis has been held hostage by the Cody’s for almost a month now.
Kidnapped from the ambulance bay by Craig, Dennis was thrown into a truck only to find that it wasn’t without purpose - he was grabbed to treat a patient, their brother to be precise - and was all at once met with a bleeding Pope Cody, his face pale, a bullet wound draining him of life by the second.
Dennis had acted fast, had saved Pope’s life – “Call me Andrew,” Pope had gasped – and now he finds himself indefinitely held at the Cody household.
Dennis pleads with Smurf, with Andrew’s brothers – promises he won’t tell anyone anything, but they insist Andrew being stable is not enough and that Dennis must be there for the length of his recovery. That they’ll let him go when their brother is back to normal and they’ve squared away whatever job injured Andrew in the first place.
Dennis agrees, hoping he’ll be released at least within the fortnight but then Andrew wakes him in the bedroom they now share (Dennis sleeping on the floor, Andrew on the bed) sweating, almost convulsing, and Dennis now has to treat Andrew for an infection, extending his stay another two weeks.
Almost a month of this and Dennis doesn’t see a way out. He grows so frustrated one day because Andrew is better, he’s healed, but their job isn’t done so they still refuse to let him go. Dennis thinks fuck it, and tries to make a run for it but is caught by Baz who has to knock him out to bring him back.
When Dennis wakes an hour later, it’s to the sounds of a Cody rager kicking off in the backyard. Music pumping, girls laughing.
Deran is sent into the room to check on him and tells him he has to join. Dennis, defeated and bruised, does what he’s told. Andrew, the one person he can have a sort of conversation with, has been gone all day and Dennis has no other allies in this mess.
He finds himself now sitting in a chair off to the side of the pool, nursing a beer he hasn’t had a sip of.
The Cody’s are around their outdoor dining table, talking and drinking, girls in the pool. Dennis doesn’t know what he’s meant to do, only knows that the side of his face throbs where Baz hit him and he still hasn’t had a chance to examine the extent of the damage.
The sound of blasting music and a car arriving sounds through the garage and Dennis already knows by now that’s Andrew’s car.
He sits and waits, unsure of what to expect - never knows what to expect from him - and all at once, he’s there, stalking into the backyard.
Dennis glances over at him and when he does, he finds that Andrew is already watching him. But then he’s on his way over and Dennis is confused, wondering why he’s making a beeline towards him and the fear makes him jump to his feet in case he needs to fight.
All at once, Andrew is in front of him, crowding his space. He’s staring at Dennis intently, eyes roaming his face. Dennis idly notices that his brothers have fallen quiet at the dining table. Even the girls in the pool have quietened down some. “What happened to your face?” Andrew asks.
Dennis is surprised by the question, for a second wondering if he even heard him correctly. “What?”
“Your face,” Andrew says again, his voice quiet.
“Nothing,” Dennis tries, but then Andrew grabs his face and he winces, his heart lurching into his throat. Dennis thinks that Andrew is going to hit him, too, or throw him to the ground, but instead he tilts Dennis’s head this way and that, examining him in the light, his eyes skating over the bruise as if it takes up his entire face and has disfigured him. Dennis figures he’s probably got something akin to a black eye rather than an irreparable gash, but Andrew is looking at him as if he’s on the brink of death.
The hands that hold his face, though, are surprisingly gentle. “Who did this to you?” he whispers.
Dennis doesn’t say anything, staring into his eyes, his mouth going dry.
Andrew lets him go and turns to his brothers, now standing in front of Dennis and shielding him from view. “Who did this?” he asks, his voice carefully measured though Dennis hears the tremble.
“Pope, sweetie, why don’t you come and have some dinner–” Smurf tries, but Andrew cuts her off.
“Who did this?” he yells. The hush that falls over everyone is terrifying. The calm before the storm, the second before impact. Dennis can feel his heart thundering in his chest. Nobody answers and a second later, Andrew has pulled a pistol out from his back pocket and holds it in the air, shooting once.
“Pope, for fucks sake–”
“Oh my God!”
“Put that away!”
“If I don’t get an answer in the next five seconds, I’m turning the gun on the girls in the pool,” he threatens.
“It was Baz! Fuck!” Craig shouts.
“Thanks for that, Craig,” Baz says, standing.
The girls are scrambling, getting out of the pool, gathering their things and running away.
“Baz,” Andrew says, and his voice is eerily calm as he fixes his eyes on his brother. He pockets his gun. “Baz hit you?” Dennis realises he’s addressing him, but he doesn’t say anything again, now too terrified, the gunshot still ringing in his ears. “Why?”
“Who the fuck cares why,” Baz says, approaching Andrew now, getting in his face in a way that Dennis thinks is incredibly ill-advised. “Who cares about him, he’s a nobody we’re holding hostage, for fucks sake. Why do you even care?”
There’s silence for a split second and it’s heavy in the air, thick like humidity; Dennis has no clue where or how this is going to go.
Then Andrew moves so fast that Dennis falls backwards in shock.
Andrew lunges at Baz, grabbing his face before violently pushing him to the floor. He straddles his brother and begins pummelling him with all his might and all at once, all the Cody’s are on their feet, jumping on Andrew to drag him back. Baz is losing his mind, too, fighting and yelling; Dennis manages to somehow scramble to his feet, pressing his back to the glass sliding door that leads into the kitchen, terrified he’ll be pulled into it.
“What the fuck is your problem, Pope?!” Baz shouts as Andrew is dragged back by J, Craig and Deran. “What, are you in love with him?!”
The words spear Dennis right through the chest, his face going hot.
Andrew wrenches out of his brother's grip and stalks away from them, heading towards the house. Dennis tries to make himself small and invisible against the glass door but then Andrew stops in front of him, breathing heavily but trying to control himself. He extends a hand to Dennis and says quietly, “Come with me.”
And because Dennis knows there’s no other option here, he takes Andrew’s hand and lets himself be led into the house.
*
Andrew takes him to his room – their room, Dennis supposes, now that they share it – and he closes the door behind them and pulls the curtains closed so that they’re completely alone. Dennis is still shaking, unable to stop.
Andrew disappears into the en suite bathroom for a second and Dennis hears him throw something around for a while before it goes quiet.
Dennis doesn’t know what to do, so he just stays pressed into a corner of the room, his back to a wall.
Finally, after a few minutes, Andrew comes back out, having taken off his jacket, somewhat calmer now. Dennis is taken with how soft he looks in just a t-shirt and jeans.
He looks guilty as he keeps his face lightly tilted down, but he’s not sporting his usual glare that Dennis had become accustomed to. Dennis has no idea what’s about to happen next, afraid to breathe too loudly.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Andrew says then, and that – well, that’s not what he thought was coming.
“It’s okay,” Dennis mumbles, still trembling.
“And I’m sorry about what Baz did to you. It wouldn’t have happened if I was here.”
Dennis nods curtly. Then says, “I know,” because it’s true. He knows Andrew wouldn’t have let them touch him, and somehow the realisation hits him somewhere in his gut.
They stand there for a while just watching each other and Dennis watches the way that Andrew fidgets, then takes a half step towards him but stops himself.
At the sight of it and the way Andrew’s eyes are soft and concerned, Dennis says quietly, “You can come to me.”
Andrew looks at him and now it’s his turn to be surprised. He doesn’t ask twice, just nods and then slowly pads over to Dennis, still pressed up against the wall. When they’re face to face, Dennis can see up close the way that Andrew’s face twists into something sad as he reaches out and gently brushes his fingertips over the bruise that’s undoubtedly blooming over his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again.
Andrew’s touch turns into a soft palm resting against Dennis’s face and he feels himself melt into the touch, starved for it, starved for care. It helps that Andrew’s eyes are wide and honest and teary, and there’s nothing but truth there. Dennis can tell.
Dennis lifts his hand and he sees Andrew flinch in anticipation, but he just brings it up to cover Andrew’s hand with his own, pressing him a little closer to his face. “It’s okay.” At the feel of Andrew’s knuckles, Dennis pulls his hand up to examine them - now red and raw, split open from where he attacked Baz. “Your hand…”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Andrew says, lips pursed.
“I should still take a look at it.” Andrew just watches him and Dennis knows he’d rather not, so he adds, “Please. It would make me feel better.”
And that seems to do it, because Andrew nods curtly once, and lets Dennis extricate himself from between him and the wall, heading into the bathroom for the first aid kit. When Dennis returns, he points at the bed. Andrew sits and Dennis sits next to him, their bodies half facing each other.
Dennis is thankful for something to do, busying himself with the kit and supplies. Andrew sits diligently, spine straight, his hands on his knees as he waits.
“Can I take your hand?” Dennis finally asks.
Andrew nods and Dennis lifts his right hand, examining his knuckles properly. “Baz’s face is probably worse,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, probably.”
“I hope it is,” Andrew adds then, watching Dennis’s face, hoping he reacts to that.
Dennis smirks and says. “Yeah, me too.”
“I’ll hit him again if you want,” Andrew offers.
Dennis dabs at the split skin with betadine, cleaning up the blood. “Maybe another time. I reckon you got him pretty good tonight.”
“Yeah.”
Dennis grabs steristrips and carefully applies them. “Pain okay?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“Okay.”
Dennis finishes cleaning him up, tilting his hand this way and that in his own and Andrew watches their hands as he does so. When he finishes, Dennis doesn’t let his hand go. Just drops it to his lap, holds it there with both of his own, lightly brushing his fingers over the unbroken skin.
“Are you upset?” Andrew asks.
Dennis shakes his head but then nods. “Yeah. I’m just, uh. Miss my life. You know?”
“I don’t want you to be upset.”
Dennis’s eyes meet his. “Am I ever gonna get to go back?”
Without hesitation, Andrew says, “Yes. Of course.”
Dennis nods, seems to believe him, but presses and says, “Do you, uh, know when?”
Andrew shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“I won’t – I won’t tell anyone, you know–?”
“I know. I believe you. They just - they won’t let you.”
Dennis nods, tears sliding down his face. He reaches up with one of his arms to wipe the tears away but Andrew slips his hand in before he can, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”
Dennis smiles at him. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I was hit in the face? Must have been when I was a teenager. My dad, I reckon.” Andrew’s face twists into a grimace. “It’s fine. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”
“Do you…” Andrew hovers awkwardly, now extending an arm, unsure where to put it. “Do you want a hug–?”
Dennis throws himself against Andrew’s body before he can even respond, eliciting a little huff from Andrew as he hits his chest, wrapping his arms around his middle tightly. Andrew wraps his arms around Dennis’s back and tugs him close. He hesitates again but then rests his cheek against the top of Dennis’s head, relishing in how soft his curls are. He feels Dennis’s body shuddering against his own in little broken sobs so he just tightens his arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dennis says after a moment, lightly pulling back, but Andrew keeps his arms around him loosely.
“You don’t have to apologise.”
“I don’t – I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not.” Andrew frowns, realising it’s true. He doesn’t tolerate many people touching him, but Dennis is good. Dennis is okay. Dennis can. “You – you can touch me.”
Dennis smiles a little at him and Andrew feels something clench in his chest. “I’m glad you came home. I hated that party.”
“I hate those parties, too,” Andrew replies. Dennis is nodding, looking off into the distance, and Andrew can tell he’s still a little hazy and upset. “You don’t have to go back out there,” he assures him.
“Thank you,” Dennis breathes, as if it was even a possibility that he would be forced back out there now that Andrew was here. “You’re always saving me.”
Andrew shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at Dennis; feels his body viscerally reject the notion. “You always save me.”
Dennis hiccups a small laugh. “I’m a doctor, I’m meant to. Swore an oath and all that. You could leave me for dead.” The words make Andrew flinch a little but Dennis is quick to correct, “I mean generally. I know you wouldn’t. I mean - you don’t owe me anything.”
“You saved my life,” Andrew murmurs. “I’m not going to forget that. You will get out of here, I promise.”
Dennis nods and is looking at Andrew like he really does believe him. Andrew can’t remember the last time someone looked at him with trust in their eyes. It makes something warm spread through his chest; leaves him a little breathless.
“You can, uh. You can have the bed tonight,” Andrew tells him. “Are you hungry? I can go get you some food–” Andrew moves to stand but Dennis keeps hold of his hand and tugs him back down.
“Please don’t leave me. I don’t - I don’t want to be alone. And I’m not hungry, can you just stay?” Dennis is looking at Andrew with pleading, wide eyes. Andrew feels himself soften even further, if that were even possible. He nods. And then Dennis mumbles, his cheeks a little pink, “Maybe we can - maybe we can share the bed?”
Andrew feels his face go a little hot now and without meaning to, he turns to look at the bed, surveying if it’s big enough, if Dennis will be comfortable, but Dennis must read that as he doesn’t want to, so all at once he’s mumbling, “Sorry, nevermind, that was a stupid suggestion, you just sleep in the bed–”
“No,” Andrew cuts him off, firmly. “No. I want to. We can share.”
Dennis’s face is well and truly red now but he nods, smiling. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”
“But you have to eat first,” Andrew insists. “And shower. And then bed.”
Dennis nods. “Sounds fair.”
“I’ll lock the door - you go shower. I’ll be back with some food.”
Dennis looks nervous at the thought of being alone but he nods, heads to the bathroom and lightly shuts the door.
Dennis showers quickly, terrified to be naked and alone for too long, and by the time he’s dressed and back in the bedroom, Andrew has made up the bed with the covers pulled back and there’s a tray on the bed laid out with cold cut meats, cheeses and bread as well as an array of olives and dip. “Thought this might be easier to stomach than something heavy,” Andrew says by way of explanation.
Dennis finds his stomach growling now and he nods. “Yeah, thank you.” He’s about to climb into the bed but stops and says, “Is the door–?”
“Locked.”
“Okay.”
“I’m just going to quickly shower, be back in a minute,” Andrew says, quickly heading to the bathroom and showering in probably about 30 seconds, Dennis thinks, before he’s in the bedroom with a towel slung around his waist.
Dennis finds it hard not to ogle, his eyes trailing every ridge and ripple of Andrew’s back and shoulders, eyeing every fading and fresh scar. His eyes keep going south to where the towel is and he has the horrifying thought that he’d love to see what’s beneath it.
“You staring at me?” Andrew asks without turning around.
Dennis jolts but clears his throat, picking up a piece of bread. “No.”
Andrew turns to look at him and there’s a small smirk playing at his lips. “I train hard for this body, you can look at it,” he says.
Dennis rolls his eyes and flips him off but his cheeks are pink once again.
Andrew disappears into the bathroom to get changed and when he returns, he silently climbs in on the other side of Dennis and remains sitting up. He doesn’t touch the food, just watches.
“Eat with me,” Dennis says.
“No, it's for you–”
Dennis rolls his eyes and picks up a slice of bed, layering it with meat and cheese and holding it out for Andrew to take. “Please.”
Andrew takes it and eats. “Thank you.”
They eat in comfortable silence for a while until Dennis says, “How was your day?”
It lands funny in the room, because it’s so - simple. Silly. Domestic. Andrew would laugh if Dennis looked like he was teasing him, but he doesn’t seem to be.
“It was okay,” Andrew answers carefully. “Same old.”
Dennis nods and doesn’t press.
“How was yours?”
“I got punched,” Dennis responds, but this time he grins; Andrew finds he can’t match his energy, feels himself bristle at the reminder, at the sight of the blooming bruise on the young doctor's face. “But other than that, no better or worse than any other day of this new adventure.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew says again; thinks he may spend the rest of his life apologising.
“You don’t need to keep saying that.” Andrew keeps his mouth shut. Grabs a bottle of water he got for him and hands it to Dennis. He takes it, grateful, and says, “Eat more.”
“I don’t want anymore, thank you.”
Dennis finishes the food and before he can even move, Andrew is clearing away the plate for him.
When he returns, Dennis is coming out of the bathroom, having brushed his teeth, and Andrew follows suit. They get into bed together, and Andrew doesn’t know if it had to be this way. He’d offered Dennis his bed, that was fine, and Dennis wanted him there, too. He doesn’t think he needs to follow suit with all his actions, showering, eating, brushing his teeth and going to bed at the same time, but somehow – he wants to.
Dennis is the one to turn the lights off before clambering into bed and Andrew hears him exhale deeply in the near-dark. There’s some moonlight seeping in but it’s dark enough that it feels comfortable.
Andrew finds that someone else breathing near him does something to his nervous system; feels himself begin to settle in a way he never previously has. Normally he’s just wide awake and listening until his body does a force shut down. Now Andrew finds himself falling into some sort of sleepy rhythm alongside Dennis.
There’s a decent gap between them, and they’re both laying on their backs, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you miss your friends?” Andrew asks then, quiet; random. Doesn’t know what else to ask, doesn’t know what’s appropriate. What will help or hinder. If this will make things better or worse for Dennis.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to…tell me about them?”
Dennis doesn’t say anything for a while and Andrew thinks that’s his answer, but then Dennis is speaking, “All of my friends are people at work. I moved to Pittsburgh for my emergency rotation and then got matched at PTMC and I - I spend all my time working, so those are my friends. My best friend is my roommate Trinity. She’s funny and smart and we argue all the time but she’s got the biggest heart. Then there’s Vic, she’s like this bundle of energy when work isn’t sucking it out of her or her parents aren’t being insane. Samira is really cool, she was more of a mentor but we’ve sort of become friends, too.”
Dennis doesn’t say anything more and then Andrew prompts, “Who’s Robby?”
“How do you know about him?” Dennis snaps, tone all at once fearful and surprised.
“You, uh - you say his name sometimes. In your sleep.”
“Oh.” Andrew figures if he could see his face, Dennis would be beet red. “Um.”
“Let me guess - he’s married or your boss or something?”
Dennis snorts. “Yeah, both actually.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“You like him.”
“I - yeah.”
“And it’s – is it something, are you having an affair–?”
“God no. It’s just a crush. Work crush. He’s married to this other really hot doctor at work. Abbot. They’ve been together for like a million years or something. Plus he’s older - it’s a whole thing. It’s just. A crush, though. Nothing more.”
Even with the explanation and all the justification, Andrew feels hot jealousy seeping into his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with, so he doesn’t say anything.
“Did you fall asleep?” Dennis whispers after he's quiet for a while.
“No.”
“Are you…mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. I - sorry. I’m like. I grew up in a house where I was always hyperaware of everyone’s emotions and it feels like you’ve - something. Changed?” Then, carefully, Dennis asks, “Are you uncomfortable because I like guys or–?”
“No,” Andrew says, firmly, quickly. Says it in the way you would rip off a bandaid, would clamp your hand down on a wound to stem the bleeding. “I’m not.”
“Oh. Okay.” Andrew feels Dennis turn then and when he speaks again, knows he’s facing him because of the direction of his voice. “Do you have a partner?”
Andrew scoffs. Answer enough.
“Me too. Lonely as fuck,” Dennis mumbles, laughing a little.
The phrase surprises a smile out of Andrew and he snorts.
They remain quiet like that for a while and then Dennis mumbles, “Andrew?”
“Hm?”
“Will you hold my hand?”
The question surprises him; Andrew wonders if he heard him correctly. “Your hand?”
“Yeah,” Dennis whispers, all sorts of quiet now. “I just. I need to feel something. Need to know you’re there.”
“I’m here.”
A beat.
“Please.”
Andrew sighs lightly and turns onto his side to face Dennis. He can make out the shadows on his face in the moonlight, he’s almost blurry, like an apparition, but Andrew can see he’s wide awake. Dennis’s arm is out in between them, palm up. Andrew outstretches his own arm and slides his hand into Dennis’s, entwining their fingers.
“Is this okay?” Andrew asks, all at once nervous, but the feeling is so nice, it makes his heart stutter in his chest.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Slowly, tentatively, Andrew starts rubbing his thumb gently over Dennis’s hand for something to do, and he hears the man next to him hum softly as he drifts off to sleep. Andrew spends the next hour just watching his face, notes that this is the first time Dennis has ever looked so peaceful sleeping here in his room; previously looked terrified even in his sleep when on the floor or in the corner, as if Andrew’s presence in the room was akin to sleeping near a wild animal that could pounce at any moment. And now here he was, in the enclosure with said wild animal, sleeping side by side, and Dennis could not look more content. More safe.
Looking at Dennis now, the knowledge that he saved his life, that he’s not - scared of him, makes something shift in Andrew’s chest. That Dennis wants to lie next to him, wants to hold his hand, Andrew feels that familiar surge of protectiveness that he feels over Lena, knows now that he would do anything to take care of Dennis. Would never let anyone hurt him.
Feels the thought drift through the back of his mind that he would lay his life down for him; would hunt, harm or kill anyone who tried to hurt Dennis Whitaker.
The realisation scares him a little, but when he looks at Dennis’s face - the way he looks so completely at ease with him - he feels some of the fear wash away.
At some point he falls asleep, too.
Andrew can’t remember the last time he fell into a sleep so deep; can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.
*
When Andrew wakes, he finds Dennis is pressed up against his chest, arms curled around his waist. They’re still facing each other, now just entirely entangled. Andrew’s own arm is slung around Dennis’s upper back, holding him close, and he finds he’s sweaty from the contact, but makes no effort to move away. Dennis’s face is all but buried in his neck, his hot breath ghosting over Andrew’s collarbone.
Andrew can’t remember the last time he held someone.
And because he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be afforded this again, he nuzzles in a little closer and feels his heart thud harder in his chest when Dennis, still asleep, grips onto him tighter as if he was trying to move away.
Andrew leans a little closer and ghosts his lips over Dennis’s forehead. The most chaste of kisses for something so precious. The man that saved his life. Andrew closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the fantasy of it all a little while longer.