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God, it’s been an awful shift so far. Dennis sighs as he fumbles with a singular cigarette, striking the lighter thrice before catching a flame. He’d swiped them from Santos’ locker just before he’d slipped out for a much-needed break, despite his woeful inexperience with smoking. It was always one of those ‘sinful vices’, as his father would say, and the guilt sits somewhere in his chest, faint but noticeable. After the last few hours, though, he’d say he earned a little sinning.
“Those things will kill you, you know.”
Dennis jumps at the unexpected voice, cigarette dangling between his fingers. Dr Robby stands behind him, half in shadow with his coat slung over one shoulder, hair mussed from the humidity and stress.
“Oh, this isn’t mine, actually…” Dennis stammers, eyes darting to the cigarette as though it might disappear if he just wills it. “Santos keeps a pack on her for when it gets hectic.”
Robby only hums in response, lifting a brow as he walks towards him.
“I can put it out,” Dennis says quickly. “I know we’re not technically supposed to smoke on premises, I just—”
“Relax,” Robby cuts in, voice low, the corner of his mouth quirking into a tired smile. “If I wrote you up for smoking, I’d have to write up half the staff. God knows the rest of us have done worse to cope.”
His tone is soft, but there’s something underneath it. It makes Dennis’ pulse skip. They’ve been flitting around each other for weeks now, sharing quips and charged looks with each other during their shifts. Here, outside, the quiet feels unnatural after the constant alarm of the ER. All there is is the buzz of the fluorescent light over the door and the distant hum of the city. The air smells faintly of disinfectant and rain-soaked asphalt, and under it all, the acrid tang of cigarette smoke.
He takes a drag, lets the smoke fill his lungs. The nicotine cuts through the unpleasant tension he’s been holding for hours now, leaving behind a faint warmth that feels almost like calm. He coughs as he exhales, mouth twisting in displeasure.
When he opens his eyes again, Robby is watching him carefully.
Dennis tries to look away. Fails. “Want a hit?”
Robby doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers, as though he’s weighing the question against something unspoken. Then, with a small nod, he steps forward.
He plucks the cigarette from Dennis’ loose grip, calloused fingers kissing over his own, and that one tiny touch shoots up his arm like an electric shock. He stifles a breath at the sensation, and is only glad that Robby doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he’s just better at hiding it. Dennis isn’t sure which version he prefers.
Robby brings the cigarette to his lips, inhales, and the ember glows between them, a soft orange light cutting through the dark. The smoke drifts between their faces, curling in slow spirals that smell faintly of ash and hospital sanitiser.
“Terrible habit,” Robby murmurs, angling his body towards Dennis’.
“You didn’t have to take it, then.” He mirrors the other, leaning in slightly.
Robby exhales, a lazy stream of smoke slipping past his mouth, through the tiny smile that threatens to form. “Never said I was better than you.”
Standing this close to Dr Robby, Dennis is forced to look up at him through his lashes to make eye contact. They are mere inches apart now, both having subtly shuffled closer during their conversation, and Dennis shivers as he breathes in the scent of night air and nicotine. As Robby pulls another drag from the cigarette, Dennis is plagued by a quick fantasy; all he’d have to do is lean upwards on the balls of his feet to press his lips against Robby’s, feel the scratch sensation of his beard against his own skin.
Ugh. He’s ridiculous.
Dennis squashes that thought down almost immediately as it rises, chalking it up to him running only on caffeine and adrenaline, his nerves still raw from the shift. But there’s something about standing out here that makes everything feel so much more charged.
Robby hands the cigarette back, fingers brushing his again. It’s deliberate this time, he thinks. The contact lingers, just enough to make Dennis’ throat go dry.
“Rough shift,” Robby says.
Dennis huffs out a laugh. “You could say that.”
“You held up well.”
The barely-there praise from Robby hits his system far stronger than any drug he’s ever known. Dennis tries to play it off, but ends up falling into a coughing fit instead. “You make it sound like I barely did,” he mutters once he’s calmed himself.
Robby’s smile fades, replaced by something quieter. “Everyone finds it tough during their first few months in the Pitt. You’re doing better than most.”
Dennis glances down at the pavement. “It grows on you. The Pitt, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Robby agrees softly. “Yeah, it does.”
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The world feels muted; the hum of the ER lights, the distant city noise, even the faint rumble of thunder somewhere far off barely registers to Dennis’ ears.
Dennis flicks the ash, watching the sparks die against the concrete. “I’d like to stay, I think. Come back to the Pitt once I’ve graduated.”
Robby studies him, eyes tracing his face like he’s searching for something familiar. “We’d be lucky to have you.”
He steps closer, close enough that Dennis can feel the heat off him, the faint scent of sweat and aftershave and smoke. The cigarette burns low between them, ember barely holding on.
Robby plucks it from his hand again, far slower this time, and takes a drag. When he exhales, the smoke ghosts over Dennis’s collarbone, warm against the cold night air. Dennis doesn’t move even an inch. “You don’t smoke much, I’m assuming?”
Dennis blushes at the light tease, his hand subconsciously coming up to rub at his neck. “Yeah, not really. I wasn’t the type of kid to smoke under the bleachers in high school, so I never actually learned.”
“Do you want to?”
“Huh?”
“Learn.”
Dennis looks up at him, confused. “I guess so? I kinda figured it was one of those things I’d just get better at the more I did it.”
Robby chuckles at his response before cupping Dennis’ chin with his hand. His grip isn’t forceful, but it is firm, and Dennis fights the urge to gasp at the feeling of his boss manoeuvring him into position.
For a moment, it feels like they’re standing on the edge of something that shouldn’t exist between two doctors outside a hospital, half-dead from exhaustion and adrenaline. But it’s there; undeniable and fragile.
“Um.” He whispers stupidly. “Dr Robby?”
“Shh,” is the response he gets back. “Just follow my instructions, okay, kid?”
He nods, or at least tries to. The hold Robby has on his chin keeps him in place, and Dennis can’t help but lean into the touch.
“It’s all in the breathing, right?” Robby continues, his eyes never leaving Dennis’ mouth. A rough thumb comes up to stroke along his lower lip, and his mouth drops open slightly. “When I breathe out, I want you to breathe me in.” It’s spoken like a command.
“Yes, sir.” The honorific spills out before Dennis can stop it. He holds his breath as Robby closes his lips around the cigarette, breathing in deeply, before leaning in impossibly closer to Dennis’ mouth. His eyelids flutter closed as grey smoke spills out of Robby’s mouth into his own, seeping its way into his lungs. It feels like Robby is everywhere, pressing all over his body, inside his lungs, inside his soul. There is no escape from him, but it doesn’t matter; all Dennis can manage to do is melt deeper into his very presence.
As he exhales the secondhand smoke, he realises he hasn’t felt the urge to cough the entire time.
“Good boy,” Robby hums, sliding his hand from Dennis’ chin to the crook of his neck. He squeezes there once, twice, before letting go and stepping back. He stubs out the cigarette on the wall, thumb brushing over the blackened mark left by countless others. “Get some coffee before you go back in,” he says finally, voice softer than before.
Dennis can only nod.
“Oh, and Dr Whitaker?” Robby says as he walks back into the hospital. “Don’t make this a habit. I am a doctor, and those things really will kill you.”
Dennis watches him go, eyes never leaving the line of his shoulders. Robby will surely kill him far sooner than any cigarette he could ever smoke.