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Trinity ambushes him on an unassuming Tuesday, right as he thinks he’ll make it through graduation without attention or dramaticism. It’s only three days before he’s set to walk across the stage when he walks into the apartment to find her sprawled across one end of the couch, one arm thrown over her face making her voice muffled as she starts to speak immediately.
“I’ve been waiting patiently, but we’re getting down to the wire here Huck.” He tilts his head in confusion while slipping out of his shoes.
“Wha-“ He starts but cuts himself short as Trinity sits up abruptly.
“Look, don’t make me beg, I won’t tell any embarrassing stories in front of your family, but if you have a spare ticket for your graduation I want to be there.” The blood drains from his face in the way that leaves behind the sickly unease of pins and needles, one hand claps the back of his neck in embarrassment as he hesitantly meets her pleading gaze.
“Oh. It’s not that I didn’t ask you. I uh, didn’t ask anybody? “And my family’s not coming, not interested.” He tries for casual with the addition of a halfhearted shrug, even in his own ears it sounds defeated. Where his own resolute stoicism on the topic grounds him, he watches as rage overtakes Trinity like a flash flood. In a space between one millisecond and the next her warm eyes fill with ice and her eyebrows crumple together violently.
“Not interested in your huge fucking achievement?!” She hisses, hands thrown into the air, and all he can do is flop onto the upholstery at her side, mumbling his least favorite truth into the vibrating silence between them.
“Um, not interested in me. Full stop.” He turns to press his face into his favorite throw pillow, willing away the sting of tears as her hand falls to tug comfortingly as the curls she finds at the nape of his neck, blunt nails scratching briefly against his scalp reassuringly.
“Do you have tickets to use?” She asks softly, the proverbial wind taken from her sails, though he’s positive she’s still seething beneath the surface.
“Of course I-“
“Good, leave them on the counter before you go to bed tonight or I’ll ransack your room to find them.” She huffs, patting at his hair once more before shoving off of the couch and launching into a story about the horrors of the day she’d narrowly escaped during her shift in the Pitt. The abrupt topic change means there’s no room for any attempt at non compliance, and as she starts in on a tale of the trauma she ran with Mohan at the start of her day, he settles into the comforting chaos of it all, eyes falling shut as he pictures the scene she describes to him.
*****
Trinity arrives at her next shift looking to the world like one wrong move may just set her off. Her entire frame seems to be wound tight and even Abbott steps out of her way with an intrigued lift of an eyebrow as she barrels down the hallway. She grabs Robby by the edge of his scrub sleeve, halting him in his attempt to get handover from Abbott.
“Sorry Abbott, I need you to hold down the fort for a few more minutes.” She calls over her shoulder as she half shoves Robby backwards into the locker room. “Wait here please.” She orders before spinning right back through the door. For his part, Robby is too stunned by the plea to question the odd chain of events. He watches similar scenes play out as Santos dumps King, Mohan, and Dana, into the room before handing her phone to Mohan who presents a confused Javadi on FaceTime.
“I’ll make this quick. Who here has plans tomorrow?” She asks and watches as every hand present goes up. “Okayyyy. Not anymore. Huckleberry’s graduation is tomorrow and we’re all showing up for him or you’re all dead to me.” Her delivery is the same dry tone she uses throughout each shift in the Pitt, but there’s a spark in her eye that has most of the group opting for silence. Seemingly not sensing the danger, or perhaps choosing to ignore it, Robby opens his mouth to speak but is promptly cut off.
”Don’t piss me off, grandpa.” She snaps and earns an exasperated roll of the mans eyes behind his glasses.
”You know I’m your boss, right?” He huffs ineffectively as his expression tilts upward by the slightest degree.
”We’re not on the clock for another ahhhhh 3 minutes.” She shrugs as she glances at the clock. He rubs at his jawline in faux irritation, the technically insubordinate attitude from Santos is occasionally amusing to him and she’s unfortunately well aware.
”This last minute? I’m sure he has-“ Mohan starts softly.
”And you’d be wrong. Apparently his family couldn’t be bothered to travel to the big city for his I don’t know momentous lifetime achievement? He wasn’t even going to ask anyone to go, figured if his own family didn’t see the point that we’d . . . ANYWAY” she redirects, clapping her hands sharply once. “I have commandeered his tickets, there’s enough for all of us to go. Javadi, I hate to say it but I know your mom is involved with the university, guest lectures and shit, I’m going to need you to try and pull some strings for Den, I’ll coordinate with you and Robby separately.” For her part Javadi just nods seriously already seemingly typing viciously on the phones keyboard as Santos kicks everyone else from the room and into the chaos of the Pitt. Once it’s just the two of them with Javadi propped upright inside Santos locker some of the woman’s bravado fades, and she takes a second to scrub a hand down her face in exhaustion. “Look, I’m not here to drop his tragic backstory but Dennis made a LOT of personal sacrifices to get himself through med school, he deserves to feel like that shit paid off, and that he has like a community or whatever. So I need you-“ She pauses to point at Javadi. “to get him-“ she indicates with a tilt of her head toward Robby “greenlit to hood Dennis because no offense but he deserves more than just some rando faculty member.”
Before the trio can iron out any details or Robby can voice his surprise at the request the day devolves into chaos like it always does. Yet somehow, between endless patients and one hectic trauma case after another Trinity whips them all into shape. She weasels Robby into teaching her how to tie a tie, both traditional and bow tie to make sure she has her bases covered. She wrangles Mateo and later Abbott to interrogate them thoroughly on their hair routines, and somehow convinces Kiara to let her borrow her expensive digital camera. Though she looks thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day Robby catches the proud gleam in her eye as he takes a second to bump his shoulder against hers supportively as they make their way out into the ambulance bay together.
*****
The last minute scheming comes together seamlessly, with the pittlings and Dana sandwiched into uncomfortable plastic bleacher seating. The names drone on, but Trinity’s eyes stay glued to the back of Dennis’ head, counting down the graduates until she gets to see the look on his sad little puppy dog face change from the forced neutrality currently glued there. Despite his calm expression she catches the way he bounces on the balls of his feet in between one step and the next. With only three people left before the main event she allows herself a glance toward the section of the stage Robby occupies, still out of view from Dennis. Observing what she thinks is also nervous shifting of his feet as Dennis advances smoothly in line.
Dana stands waiting and ready, Kiara’s borrowed camera already rolling as the person in front of Dennis is acknowledged, Mel presses both palms against her ears but grins in anticipation as Samira and Victoria lean forward excitedly hanging on every word. If asked about it later Trinity will deny the absolutely unhinged scream that she lets out as Dennis is called, the four of them jumping up and down, bumping shoulders and trying to avoid jostling Dana who lets out her own ear splitting whistle.
“Now presenting Dennis Whittaker.”
Even at a distance she catches the shift in Dennis, between one step and the next as he registers their cheers above the general din of the convention center. He stands taller, shoulders moving from neutral to a more confident stance, though he ducks his head in embarrassment. The introduction continues and Trinity can’t help but pat herself on the back at the way Dennis’ head snaps back up in shock and his eyes go comically wide.
“Dr. Whittaker will be hooded by his mentor, Dr. Micheal Robinovich chief attending physician at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.”
Maybe it’s the intense overhead lighting, but she’s almost positive she catches the way Dennis’ entire face flushes red, eye’s landing on Robby who steps forward so casually, she thinks he must be channeling Abbott. There’s a shine in his eyes where they sit behind his glasses, the closeup view plastered across the projector screens catch the two muttering back and forth in the moment it takes for Robby to drape the hood over Dennis’ shoulders, and Trinity can’t help an additional yell or two as she makes note of the way Robby’s right hand drops to grip her roommates shoulder. She knows she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat as she waits for the final bombshell.
“Dr. Whittaker has matched in emergency medicine at Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center.”
While Trintiy had been privy to his placement, Dennis had made her promise to keep where he’d matched a secret. The payoff is worth the weeks of self restraint she’d been forced to endure, Robby’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline at breakneck pace, his second hand coming down on Dennis’ free shoulder shaking him happily, before sliding around his torso, pulling Dennis briefly back against his chest before releasing him. His exclamation of ‘PTMC!” clear on his lips through the video feed and echoed by Trinity and the women surrounding her. She catches what she thinks is the reflection of stage lights off of a tear track as Dennis turns to exit.
*****
Robby is the first to find him at the tail end of the ceremony. He’d thought he’d done a better job at tucking himself into an alcove to silently press the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if the pressure could somehow stop the flow of tears. He flinches away from Robby’s hesitant hand at his bicep, fingers pressed so lightly they barely indent the layers of fabric he’s wrapped in. He stifles the movement the second he locks eyes with the familiar warm gaze.
“Happy tears I hope?”
Something about the man’s presence unfurls the last bit of his self restraint, the deep aching in his chest giving way as he sobs silently, one hand clasps over his lips in an effort to muffle his stuttering breaths.
“It’s just a lot.”
“I get it. It is a lot. To finally be done.” He agrees, allowing himself to press his palm more firmly against Dennis’ arm in comfort.
“No it’s not that- just. Fuck. Part of it is that I’m happy, and relived, and proud of myself. But take a look at who’s happy and reviled and proud with me, for me. I gave Trin all of the tickets allotted to me. I put out feelers with my family months ago, I followed up 3 weeks ago, confirming they knew the date and time, fucking everything Robby. No one responded. Not my parents, not my brothers, my cousin replied in the group chat this morning saying congratulations. That’s it. I know it’s stupid or pathetic to still feel like I’m chasing their validation, but this is the biggest achievement of my life, and it didn’t even put me on their radar.”
“Whit- Dennis, the inability of your family to hold onto the love and respect that you so easily offer to the people around you is a reflection on them, not on you. Screw making them proud, are you proud of yourself?” He asks, waiting for the shaky nod from the younger man before he continues. “Do you think I’d let Santos rope me into this for just anybody? Or that Dana would give up her singular day off this week, and Javadi would call in a favor from her mother, or Mohan would give up an overtime shift, and Mel would cancel plans with her sister, for anyone less than extraordinary?” All Dennis manages is a feeble shake of his head, lifting his watery gaze to meet the unwavering intensity of the man in front of him.
Robby helps him regulate his breathing with calm words and the gentle press of his hands to his arms and shoulders. Once he’s finally in control and his ribs stop aching with the weight of each breath he lets Robby dab at his undoubtedly swollen eyes, biting his lip as the man allows the cool pads of his thumbs to brush over his now dry under eyes, soothing some of the heat and discomfort there. They steal a few more moments of calm, skin to skin contact and shared breath centering Dennis while also leading to a spike in his heart rate he hopes is indiscernible. Eventually he braves the crowd, allowing Robby to tug him toward a group of familiar faces by his elbow. When he stumbles into the group of his coworkers he finds himself half bowled over by an exuberant Trinity and shaken half to death by a giddy Mel. Robby flags down a stranger and asks for them to get a group photo. Between one moment and the next he ends up pressed between Trinity and Robby, whose large palm presses reassuringly against his shoulder blade, fingers soothing along his ribcage in a way that lets him finally sink into the warmth of the moment around him.
As Mel, Dana, and Samira eventually make their escape and Trinity runs off to pull her car around Dennis finds himself once again at the mercy of Robby’s too soft expression, and feels his heart skip in his chest as the older man pulls at his tie to loosen it where it presses against his neck. He steps forward, hand rustling in the pocket of the robe that’s now neatly tucked over his left arm.
“I uh- got you something.” He says, in what is probably the most uncertain tone Dennis has ever heard him speak in.
“You didn’t have to-“
“I didn’t know what the gift situation was but I didn’t want to come empty handed.”
“It really isn’t necess-“
“I wanted to do it!” Robby cuts in, tone exasperated but warm, putting an end to their inarticulate word jumble.
“Ok” he mumbles, accepting the box gingerly, flipping the lid open to find the exact watch Trinity had seen him eyeballing earlier in the week. His treacherous eyes start to feel damp again even before he lifts the timepiece from the box with a shanking hand. His fingers graze against a raised patch amidst the smooth metal backing and he turns it gently in his palm to inspect the surface more closely. He finds an inscription, set dead center into the back of the watch, the simple ‘147:3’ he finds there needs no explanation, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. “Robby-“
“Fuck. Please don’t cry because I’m an idiot. I wasn’t sure about including the inscription but I thought it was fitting ‘he heals-‘ “Robby starts to quote and Dennis glances up through his lashes, reciting the verse he’d often clung to since he’d decided to attend medical school.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” He nods, sniffling inelegantly. “I’m not crying because you did something wrong, I- for a long time that verse was my reminder that I hadn’t strayed all that far from the version of me that my family had found palatable, that my choice of a path toward medicine didn’t have to be a path away from my faith. I’ve written it on the first page of every notebook, and notepad I’ve used over the last 4 years.” He admits and there’s a satisfied uptick to the corner of Robby’s mouth. “But you already knew that.” He guesses.
“Yes. Well. The first time I saw it I figured you picked a new verse for every notebook or that it’d ended up there as a one off. I’d only seen it at a glance, you’d left the front cover of the notepad flipped up while charting. But then I kept catching glimpses of it, while you flipped through your notes to present a case or while you studied at the hub waiting for Santos to get off shift, figured it must mean a lot to you.” The older man admits, something almost bashful in the explanation, his cheeks and neck starting to tinge pink.
Dennis is suddenly struck by the way that his coworkers don’t just pay attention they see him. Robby’s ever present gaze cataloguing minute details of his personality and backstory he’d never think to share, Santos stocking her kitchen with avocados and his locker with his favorite brand of overpriced protein bars, Mel catching him rubbing the space between his eyes when a migraine sets in and dropping 2 excedrin at his work station with a bottle of water, Mohan pulling him off of a routine case so he can observe a technique he’d mentioned being interested by weeks prior, this list goes on and on.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had more people actually invested in my accomplishments.” He admits, the words falling from his mouth before they’re even half formed in his mind. Robby shakes his head, stepping forward until the back of Dennis' knuckles brush the man's sternum from where his hands still cradle the watch in front of himself. Robby’s own hands raise to wrap sure fingers around the back of his upper arms, palms pressing gently into the bony points of his elbows.
“Not your accomplishments Dennis, you. We care about you because you’re the kind of person who sticks around when things get tough, who clings to his empathy even when it’s painful, who saw me crumpled on the floor in peds and stepped up to the plate instead of backing down, who listens to funk music in the ambulance bay after a long day, who offers to rebraid Mel’s hair when it’s falling out and she has her hands full, or stays behind to walk Javadi to her car when she stays late charting, who’s accident prone, sarcastic when we least expect is, and survives off of 2 and half monsters and sheer spite most days.” Maybe it’s the way his heart is stuttering in his chest, or the way his lungs are constricting near painfully behind his ribs that causes him to override the common sense filter in his brain. Because the next words out of his mouth leave him in a full body flush.
”That was a lot of ‘we’, what about you Robby?” The man in question seems almost unfazed as he steps further into Dennis’ space.
”I care about you because every day I got to work with you in my ED was better than the next. I couldn’t help but track you through the department, watching you smile with patients, bicker with Santos, and wonder what I could have possibly done right enough in my life to have you look at me with any degree of respect or warmth. I’ve missed you every day since your rotation in the Pitt, not just because you’re a great physician, but because I have admittedly become a little attached to having you around.”
“Oh.” He murmurs, eyes wide. “You should’ve just said so. We could, uh, catch up now? Over dinner?” He asks, ending in more a squeak as his nerves crash back into his mind. For his part Robby just grins, nodding along, leaning even further into his personal space.
”Oh for the love of- just kiss already!” Trinity calls out from somewhere behind him, and he feels his face flush immediately, freeing one hand to flick his middle finger at her in faux irritation; he's caught off guard by Robby closing the distance between them. Dennis feels the way he imagines being struck by lightning might feel, with every nerve ending in his body suddenly firing at the same time. It’s as if he can hear every rustle of movement as Robby leans in but nothing beyond the bubble that surrounds them, his breath feels heavy in his lungs, each drag bringing with it the vetiver and jasmine scent he’d come to associate with Robby. The press of his lips is gentle, and Dennis swears he feels the man smile into the movement when he leans in to meet him. The kiss is fleeting, though Robby lingers in his space, dropping a second kiss to his forehead before pulling him into his chest.
“Go home Santos, I’ll make sure Dennis gets back safely.” Robby calls, already shifting their stance to grasp Dennis’ free hand in his own, tugging him further away from Trinity’s cackling form in the distance. He’s sure there will be hell to pay when he sees her again, and a laundry lists of thank yous will be needed to offset her I told you so’s, but he can’t bring himself to care as he basks in the warmth of Robby’s presence and grins to himself as Robby jumps right into an account of Santos’ near deranged arrival to the Pitt the day prior and the lengths they’d all happily gone to for him.