Work Text:
(1) - Jory
Jory rubs his eyes, glad that his shift is just about over. There’d been a carbon monoxide leak in a small apartment building that had brought in several families, including a handful of kids, and he’d been on his feet for hours, rushing patients back and forth from the ED. Night shifts weren’t exactly slow, but the frantic pace of the small MCI had been unusual.
And now he just wants to go home and crawl into bed, maybe sleep all the way until he has to leave to come back to work for his next shift. Luckily, he sees the day shift starting to filter in. Antoine comes up to him with a fist bump and Jory starts telling him about the CO leak.
“Uh, delivery here! Where should I put this?”
An UberEats driver, weighed down with several bags walks in from the ambulance bay.
Ahmad strides over to meet him.
“Maybe in the…”
“No food on my floor!” Dana, the scary day shift charge nurse, calls from the central hub.
“…break room,” Ahmad finishes loudly. He motions for the driver to follow him, pointing to Jory and Antoine on his way by. “C’mon, help the guy.”
Jory takes the heavy bag the man hands off to him and follows Ahmad into the break room. With the bags on the table, they start unloading: two boxes of coffee, three dozen donuts, two dozen bagels and cream cheese.
“Damn, what a spread!” Jory says, envious.
He jumps when he hears Dana’s voice right behind him in the doorway.
“Dr. Robby wanted to say thank you for the way the night shift handled the CO poisoning patients. Good work, Jory.”
Jory is a little surprised that Dana knows his name, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he opens the first donut box to make sure he can snag any jelly donuts before they’re gone.
“Oh,” the driver says, “I need someone to sign for this?”
“I can do that,” a voice from the doorway says.
Jory turns around, raspberry jelly donut halfway to his mouth, to see a pale brown-haired man in black EM doctor scrubs walking into the break room. Jory’s seen him before, a few times, since he’d started working this job last month, but he doesn’t know the man’s name. The doctor gestures to the delivery driver, who hands him the receipt. The man scribbles on the receipt and hands it back.
“Thanks, man, appreciate you bringing everything in. Oh, and…” The doctor reaches into his pocket and pulls out some folded bills and hands them over.
“Hey, thanks.”
The driver nods at everyone in the room then departs. The doctor follows him out.
The donut is really good, nice after such a busy shift, but Jory is very confused. He’s seen Dr. Robby before. He’s even talked to the man. That is not Dr. Robby. Why had he signed for Dr. Robby’s credit card?
Neither Ahmad nor Antoine seem bothered or confused by what had happened, so Jory shrugs his shoulders and starts looking through the bagel options.
As he’s walking out to the parking lot a few minutes later, he sees the man he knows is Dr. Robby smiling down at the other doctor, the one who’d signed the receipt. They look pretty cozy, so Jory figures they must be friends or something.
He shrugs. Doctors are weird sometimes.
(2) - Crystal
Crystal winces as Dr. Bridges gestures to her to follow him toward the elevator, muttering about putting that upstart Dr. Whitaker in his place.
“Those cowboys in the ED think they can just do an appendectomy without a surgical consult. They’ve got another thing coming, I don’t care if he’s the attending’s golden boy.”
Not for the first time, Crystal wonders if she really wants to do her full residency in surgery. She’s only two months into her internship. She could always apply to a different specialty, start her 2R year somewhere else. Though, it’s not the work itself putting her off, more the culture in the department, the hierarchy evident even among the nursing staff in the surgical suites. It always leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
And now she’s stuck following her attending, Dr. Bridges, while he goes to yell at another resident in another department. She doesn’t really know any of the EM doctors, has only heard a few names mentioned. Dr. Whitaker isn’t familiar at all and when Dr. Bridges catches the man’s attention and calls him over to them, she tries to keep her face neutral.
Dr. Whitaker doesn’t look old enough to be a resident, really. He’s on the shorter side and his face looks sweet and soft. It quickly turns to consternation as Dr. Bridges starts to lay into him.
“Just what in the hell were you thinking, doing a surgery like that, in a fucking trauma bay?”
“I was thinking, Dr. Bridges, that we needed to save the girl’s life. Her appendix had already ruptured. If we hadn’t taken it out, she could have gone septic.”
“It wasn’t your call, Whitaker. You should have had a surgical consult.”
“Well, we tried, Dr. Bridges. Dr. Garcia was already in surgery with another patient, and the intern who came down said he was going to bring someone else, and then no one else showed up.”
Dr. Bridges clears his throat. This information is clearly news to him, but he barrels through, still apparently determined to take out his frustration on Dr. Whitaker.
“You should have kept calling, then. Appendectomy should have been our call. We could have done it quicker, better, and with minimal scarring. Now, she’s going to have –”
Dr. Whitaker cuts Bridges off. “She’s going to have a bigger scar, but she’s going to live.”
Dr. Bridges opens his mouth to retort something else, but suddenly the air shifts, and a tall brown-haired man with a beard appears. Dr. Whitaker looks up at him and Crystal has a hard time understanding his expression, like he’s grateful but also annoyed.
“Dr. Bridges. If you have something to say, or rather, yell, at my resident, you can take it up with me.”
Crystal reads his name off his tag, clipped to the front pocket of his scrubs. Dr. Michael Robinavitch. She sucks in a breath between her teeth. She knows that name. Dr. Robby is the chief attending in the ED. He’s generally known for being a nice, if reckless, guy. But the expression on his face is not giving nice. It’s giving pitbull defending a baby.
“Robinavitch,” Dr. Bridges says, spitting the other doctor’s name out like it’s a curse.
“What’s the problem here?”
Dr. Bridges huffs impatiently. “Only that your resident here performed an emergency surgery without a consult from our department.”
Dr. Robinavitch nods, not taking the bait for whatever dig Dr. Bridges had been aiming for. He glances back at Dr. Whitaker, who he’s all but moved in front of, then looks at Dr. Bridges.
“It’s my understanding that my senior resident made every attempt to get a consult from your department, but was working against the clock for a very sick little girl. If you want to be included in emergency surgeries, Dr. Bridges, I’d advise you to better train your interns.”
Crystal bristles at that line, forgetting her feelings about Dr. Bridges for a second. It’s one thing for her to think poorly of the man, but she’s not sure she likes someone in another department doing it. But then, she can see that Dr. Robinavitch is only trying to protect Dr. Whitaker, who actually doesn’t look all that happy at the protection.
“As I was saying to Dr. Bridges before you arrived, Dr. Robinavitch,” Dr. Whitaker breaks in, “we had to make a decision to do the surgery with limited time.”
Dr. Whitaker practically hip checks Dr. Robinavitch out of the way to stand in front of him. For some reason, Crystal feels the need to suppress a laugh at the picture of Dr. Whitaker standing in front of Dr. Robinavitch, who towers over him by a head, his face glowering at Dr. Bridges from behind Dr. Whitaker.
“I’m sorry that we overstepped, but if it’s a matter of saving a patient or playing whatever pissing match you have going on in surgery, I’ll take my patient every time.”
Dr. Robinavitch’s expression changes to one that’s virtually glowing with pride as he looks down at the back of Dr. Whitaker’s head. Crystal takes a peek up at Dr. Bridges to see his face darkening.
He mutters something unintelligible, then says, “Next time, try harder. Come on, Gibson.”
He turns and heads back down the hallway, expecting her to follow. She tosses a sort of apologetic look at the EM doctors and trails after Dr. Bridges, not wanting to piss him off any further.
As they wait for the elevator to arrive, Crystal looks back at Dr. Whitaker and Dr. Robby. They seem to be having a hushed, and heated, conversation. Dr. Whitaker’s hands are on his hips, and his expression is extremely irritated. Dr. Robby appears to be trying to placate him. He drops a hand on Dr. Whitaker’s shoulder. Dr. Whitaker looks up at Dr. Robby’s face, over at the hand, then back at Dr. Robby’s face. The hand drops away slowly and the look on Dr. Robby’s face turns to one of guilt.
The elevator doors finally open and Crystal steps on after Dr. Bridges.
“Always something with those fucking ER cowboys,” Dr. Bridges mutters.
As the elevators doors close, Crystal catches a final glimpse of Dr. Whitaker and Dr. Robby. Dr. Whitaker’s hand is on Dr. Robby’s arm for some reason, and now his face is softer. The way he’s looking up at Dr. Robby, it’s like he has a crush on the man or something.
Crystal shakes her head. So dangerous to have workplace crushes in this place. She shudders at the idea of finding her attending attractive. The ED must be a different world altogether.
(3) - Jasmine
It’s like everything’s going wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it.
Jasmine had figured that waiting until her fourth year to do her EM rotation would give her time to get used to the idea of working in such a hectic environment, but the pace is quicker than she’d expected and she starts off the shift by dropping nearly everything she’s given to hold onto: a tablet, a (thankfully empty) bed pan, and then a blood bag.
Dr. Baptiste, the intern she’s been shadowing, has been sending her exasperated looks all morning, but it’s not as bad as the sighs and groans the EM attending, Dr. Robby, seems to make whenever he’s in her presence.
At first, Dr. Robby had seemed really friendly, introducing himself at the start of the shift. She’s not the only new med student. There’s another fourth-year, Case, and a third-year, Pamplona. Dr. Robby had smiled at them, nodding to each as they’d introduced themselves. He’d even offered Pamplona a few lines of Tagalog, which Dr. Santos, one of the senior residents, had teased him about.
And then everything had seemed to go to shit. They’d immediately been thrown into a trauma case, medics wheeling in a pair of kids who’d gotten into their parents’ medicine cabinet. At the end of it, one kid hadn’t survived and the other had been relocated to the PICU, barely holding on.
Baptiste had offered some words of encouragement. “It’s not always this bad, but it does get this bad,” he’d said. “All we can do is try to keep balance. That’s what Dr. Whitaker says.”
Jasmine hasn’t met Dr. Whitaker yet. She’s not sure if he’s even working today. But she definitely hears a lot about him throughout the morning.
Just after 10, Jasmine and Baptiste are finishing up a patient with an arm laceration. Baptiste had let her start the sutures and she thinks she’d done a pretty good job. Dr. Robby pokes his head into the exam room to check the finished stitches.
“Who did these?” Dr. Robby asks, an edge to his voice.
“Uh, I started them, Dr. Robby. Dr. Baptiste finished them.”
Dr. Robby motions to the two of them to come over to the doorway and lowers his voice so the patient doesn’t hear.
“You need more work on your suturing, Solis. You’re pushing the driver too deep. Baptiste, please keep a closer eye on her.”
Then he’s out of the room and Jasmine feels like someone has splashed a bucket of cold water in her face. Baptiste gives her sort of a grimacing smile.
“He’s not usually like this. I’m not sure what’s up with him today, but he’s usually a lot nicer.”
“Yeah,” Donnie, the nurse, says. “I bet his mood improves once Whitaker gets here.”
“Cap!” Jasmine hears Dana, the charge nurse call out from the central hub a little while later. “Go squeeze a stress ball or something, you’re too tense.”
“He’s got a swing shift today, Dana, won’t be in until 1.” That voice is Dr. Santos, Jasmine thinks, but she doesn’t understand the comment.
“Santos, don’t you have literally anything else to be doing right now?” Dr. Robby’s voice is low and gruff.
Dr. Santos breezes by and Jasmine sees her offer a salute. “I’m going, boss, I’m going.”
When Baptiste is taking a break around lunchtime, Jasmine figures she’ll try grabbing a patient off the board, someone coming in from triage. Baptiste had encouraged her to take initiative, so she figures something simple will be fine. An asthma attack sounds doable.
“Hello, Ms. Williams, I’m student doctor Solis. I’ll be taking care of you today. What brings you in?”
The woman is middle-aged with a friendly face. She struggles to get a full breath in.
“I was doing some gardening and just felt winded all of a sudden. My chest started hurting and my husband thought I ought to come in.”
“Have you ever been diagnosed with asthma before?”
Ms. Williams shakes her head. “No, never. Never any breathing troubles, but wow, is it hard to breathe in deep. My head feels a little fuzzy, too.”
Jasmine nods. “That’s probably due to the airways in your lung swelling. I’m going to listen to your lungs and your heart and get you some albuterol. That’ll help you breathe better.”
Once she completes her exam, Jasmine assures Ms. Williams that she’ll be back, she just needs to confer with a colleague. As she leaves the room, a little thrill goes up her spine at the characterization of talking to a “colleague.”
She scans the floor, but she can only see Dr. Robby. She sighs. This case presentation should be simple enough, at least.
“Dr. Robby, can I present something to you?”
He looks up at her from his computer terminal, his glasses halfway down his nose. “Sure, Solis. Go for it.”
Jasmine nods, glad that he seems in a better mood. He’s chewing a piece of gum, which is a little distracting, but she powers through, describing Ms. Williams’s symptoms and her treatment plan. After she’s finished, she waits for Dr. Robby to give his approval so she can move on.
“Wait, wait, wait, Solis.” Robby puts up a hand, cracking his gum. “Did you do any heart scans?”
Jasmine turns back to face Dr. Robby. “What do you mean?”
“Shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness.” Dr. Robby ticks off Ms. Williams’s symptoms. “Could be ischemia. Why wasn’t that part of her differential?”
Jasmine swallows, everything else frozen. “I… the board said asthma. She came back from triage, I…”
Dr. Robby huffs a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do a full differential when a patient gets back here. Come on, Solis, I know it’s your first day, but you’ve gotta – ”
“Dr. Robby?”
A soft voice breaks in, cutting Dr. Robby off. Jasmine turns to see a man in black scrubs with curly light brown hair standing right behind Dr. Robby. His eyebrow is raised and the instant Dr. Robby sees him, his face falls and his cheeks go a little pink.
“Dr. Whitaker.” Dr. Robby’s tone is difficult to parse. There’s relief and maybe a little bit of fear? “You’re not scheduled until 1.”
Dr. Whitaker nods. “I decided to come in a little early.”
Dr. Robby stands up from the seat in front of his computer terminal. He’s pretty close to Dr. Whitaker, but the other man doesn’t move away. If anything, Jasmine sees him lean a little closer.
“Who called?” Dr. Robby asks, his voice dropping to near a whisper.
“No one,” Dr. Whitaker responds, just as softly.
“Who. Called,” Dr. Robby repeats.
Dr. Whitaker sighs. “Dana. Trinity. Ahmad. Jesse.”
Dr. Robby opens his mouth to respond but Dr. Whitaker holds up a hand, now looking over to Jasmine.
“Did you need something…”
“Jasmine. Solis. New fourth-year med student,” Jasmine awkwardly spills out.
Dr. Whitaker nods. “Solis. Come on, why don’t you present your case to me?”
He looks over his shoulder at Dr. Robby, shaking his head a little. Dr. Robby, surprisingly, seems sheepish as he sinks back down into the seat in front of his computer.
It does turn out to be ischemia for Ms. Williams. Dr. Whitaker patiently walks through the differentials with Jasmine, explaining the tests they need, the next steps with the Cardiology consult. The next few hours of the shift go by much more smoothly than the first few. Even Dr. Robby seems to plane out a little.
Jasmine notices a strange thing, though. Whenever Dr. Robby gets a little grumpy, someone will call out for Dr. Whitaker. The resident will appear next to Dr. Robby, and Jasmine will watch, amazed, as the chief attending’s shoulders relax and his face smooths out.
By the time the end of her first shift rolls around, Jasmine feels satisfied by what she’s done, even if she’d had a rough start. She heads out toward the locker hallway to grab her backpack, but freezes before turning the corner when she hears Dr. Robby’s voice.
“I don’t need you to come in here and calm me down, you know.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” another voice that Jasmine is pretty sure is Dr. Whitaker, says.
“I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”
Dr. Whitaker huffs a laugh. “Oh, I know you’re a big boy.” There’s a sound like a hand smacking an arm and Dr. Whitaker laughs again. “But maybe don’t try to quit smoking the first day of the med student rotation.”
“You’re the one who keeps pushing me to stop.”
“Yes, and I do appreciate you wanting to be healthier, but you’re pissing everyone off and I can’t always be people’s shield against the Robinavitch dragon.”
Dr. Robby makes a sound of protest and then there’s a sound that might be kissing and Jasmine wants the ground to open and swallow her. Mercifully, it ends quickly.
“Stop it, we’re at work.”
“Ok, ok, I’m going. See you when you get home.”
Jasmine panics and reaches behind herself to open the door gently, then pull it closed loudly. She clears her throat and walks loudly toward the lockers, as though she hadn’t overheard the conversation. Dr. Robby is walking down the hallway in the other direction. Dr. Whitaker is standing in front of a locker, his face flushed, his lips reddened.
Jasmine quickly averts her eyes. She hasn’t seen anything and she definitely hasn’t heard anything. She rushes to her locker, messing up the combination twice before finally getting it. Dr. Whitaker opens his own locker, pulling out a water bottle.
“Well, goodnight, Dr. Whitaker,” Jasmine says, grabbing her backpack and turning to leave.
“It’s not exactly a secret,” Dr. Whitaker calls after her.
She winces and stops walking, schooling her face before she turns to look at Dr. Whitaker.
“HR knows and everything.”
Dr. Whitaker is smiling at her gently. Jasmine realizes then that Dr. Whitaker must know she had heard them. She swallows.
“I’m sorry, I – ”
Dr. Whitaker shakes his head, cutting off her apology. “I just didn’t want you to think you had to keep it secret. He’s not always so prickly, but…” Dr. Whitaker gives a beleaguered sigh. “If he’s being a dick to you at all, come find me.”
With that, he walks by her back onto the ED floor. Jasmine can’t believe that her first EM shift had gotten even weirder. What the hell would happen tomorrow?
(4) - Harley
Harley takes a deep breath as the rig bumps over the curb a little, Nguyen taking the turn a little steep in her haste to pull them into the drive. It’s close enough to the end of their shift that this will likely be their last run of the night. If only it had been a simple case.
The patient had been found wandering in traffic, under the influence of something. He hadn’t been cooperative, and he and Nguyen had just managed to convince him to get onto the stretcher before someone made good on the shouts for someone to call the police. In Harley’s experience, that rarely leads to a de-escalation.
The patient, who hadn’t had any identification on him and was unwilling to share his name, had been mostly quiet during the ride, but as Nguyen opens the back doors and reaches in to grab the gurney handle, he starts to get agitated again.
“Sir, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re just trying to get you help for your injuries,” Nguyen says, dodging out of the way of the man’s foot.
They manage to get the gurney onto the ground and start wheeling it into the PTMC ambulance bay. Dr. Robby strides up to them quickly, pulling his stethoscope out of his pocket to listen to the patient’s heart.
Harley starts giving the rundown. “We’ve got a man, mid-30s, unknown history, found wandering in traffic, likely under the influence of something. He’s got some superficial lacerations to his arms and head, a deeper lac below his right knee.”
The cut had gone through his jeans, the blood already stiffening the denim. The man was covered in blood and dirt, but many of the arm lacs had started to scab. Most of the blood was old, would wash off.
“You can’t keep me here!” The man starts struggling against the straps keeping him on the gurney.
“Patient is agitated,” Harley says and Dr. Robby gives him a flat look.
“Dana, is Trauma One ready?” the attending calls out as more doctors converge around them.
“Yes, it is, Cap,” comes the response and Harley and Nguyen push the patient into the open trauma bay.
Ordinarily, this would be where the medics give any remaining context and head out, but with the patient getting increasingly upset, Harley signals to Nguyen to stick around. Their shift is basically over anyway; they can just run out the clock here.
“Whitaker, respiration,” Dr. Robby calls out to the resident.
Whitaker pushes the earpieces of his stethoscope in and tries to get a read on the patient’s lungs, his mouth a flat line of frustration.
“He keeps taking off the pulse ox,” Jesse, one of the nurses, says.
“Can’t just kidnap people off the street! I know my rights!” the man yells.
His arms whip around and the doctors and nurses standing around him duck and move out of the way to avoid them.
“Sophie, you got that ketamine ready?” Dr. Robby asks.
The nurse nods her head. “Soon as we get the stick.”
Harley moves in to help pin the man’s arm down so the nurse can insert the IV.
It doesn’t go as planned. In sort of slow motion, the man grabs the needle out of his arm and starts waving it around. His hand connects with Whitaker, shoving him back into an equipment cart. The resident gets the air knocked out of him and falls to the ground.
“Whitaker!” Dr. Robby yells, then turns back to the patient.
Sophie tries another stick with another needle. Going very much against protocol, Dr. Robby reaches across the patient and holds him down. Sophie is able to get the stick in, and pushes the ketamine. As the patient slowly starts to calm, Dr. Robby lets go, dropping into a crouch.
He helps Whitaker back up to his feet and Harley’s eyes widen as he watches the attending’s hands smooth all over Whitaker’s body. His touch seems very familiar.
“I’m fine,” Whitaker mutters. “Robby! I’m fine. We’re at work.”
Dr. Robby seems to freeze and realize where they are. He drops his hands from Whitaker’s body, then folds them across his midsection, like he has to clutch at something to prevent himself from reaching for Whitaker again.
The patient now sedated, the ED staff begin attending to his injuries. Harley and Nguyen are thanked and waved off. Harley glances back through the windows to the trauma bay to see Dr. Robby still hovering over Whitaker, while the resident rolls his eyes at the attending.
Once they get back in their rig, Harley driving how, he brings it up. “You see that? With Dr. Robby and Whitaker?”
Nguyen gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“The way he yelled, how he was touching Whitaker? I don’t know, seemed overly familiar to me. I wonder if there’s something there.”
“Wait, are you shitting me right now?”
He glances over to his partner, his brows pinched. “What? What am I missing?”
“Harley,” she laughs. “They’re together. For years now.”
“Wait, what? Dr. Robby and Whitaker? Isn’t he, like, twice Whitaker’s age?”
Nguyen snorts. “At least. Remember when I was dating Kim?”
Harley groans. “How could I forget?”
“Shut up. Anyway, she showed me some pictures she swears are from their honeymoon. Whitaker posted them on Instagram while he was on that vacation. During which Robby was also on leave.”
Harley shrugs. “Could be a coincidence.”
“Yeah, but Whitaker was clearly with someone. The guy’s just out of frame every time, but trust me, the evidence is there. I’ve seen those hands enough to recognize them.”
Harley snorts, then shakes his head. “Nah, I just can’t see it. But I guess it’s none of my business.”
It’s Nguyen who snorts this time, but they’re pulling into the garage and Harley is ready to head home.
(5) - Pierce
As the day shift workers start heading out after handoffs, Gwen is surprised to see Whitaker and Santos sticking around.
“Hey, Whitaker, you working the overnight?” they ask.
Whitaker nods. “Yeah, I switched with Najeeb. His daughter’s sick.” He jerks his head toward Santos. “Santos is just working the second half of the swing for Shen.”
“Nice. Ok.” They’re looking up at the patient board when Robby comes up to them with a sort of apologetic look on his face. There’s a mid-twenties woman at his side.
“So, Pierce…” His smile is big and bright and Pierce can see right through it.
“Yes, Robby?”
“This is Gretchen Foster. She’s an MS4 and wanted to start her rotation on the night shift. I spoke to Abbot and Najeeb about it, but, well.” Neither of them are working tonight, is the unfinished part of the sentence.
Gwen sighs. “I can take her tonight.”
“Thank you, Dr. Pierce,” Robby says in that sing-song voice of his that both annoys them and endears them.
“Foster, this is Dr. Pierce. They are a senior resident and an amazing teacher. They will show you the ropes tonight and Dr. Najeeb will take over when he gets back tomorrow night.”
He nods at both of them, then walks over to Whitaker to say something in his ear. Whitaker nods and Robby reaches a hand up to squeeze his shoulder, then heads out toward the lockers. Whitaker steps back next to Gwen to look up at the board.
Gwen decides that a suspected broken tibia is a good case to start. “So, Foster – ” They cut off when they see that Foster is not looking at the board, or at a tablet, or even at the hub. She is instead looking over at Whitaker, her eyes a little wide as they move up and down his body. Gwen clears their throat. “Foster.”
She looks over at Gwen, a bit of a guilty look on her face.
“We’re going to start with the patient in North 3. Probably a broken tibia.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a bother, me working with you, Dr. Pierce? I could ask Dr. Whitaker to…”
“Nope, not a bother at all. Dr. Whitaker can handle himself.”
As they move off, they hear Foster mutter, “I bet he could handle a lot.”
It’s going to be a long night, they think as they turn down the North corridor.
A confirmed broken tibia, a case of gastroenteritis, and a stroke trauma later, Gwen sends Foster to take a quick break while they use the bathroom. When they come back to the central hub to check the patient board, Lena gets their attention.
“You better check on your med student, Pierce. Or Whitaker. Not sure which one needs saving the most.”
Gwen follows Lena’s nod toward the breakroom and pauses in the doorway. Whitaker’s sitting at the table, a cup of coffee by his elbow and a protein bar in his hand. Foster is also sitting at the table, but leaning forward toward Whitaker, a smile on her face. Whitaker’s face looks a little pinched.
“…I didn’t know you were at PittFest. And that was your first day? You must have been so brave.”
Whitaker clears his throat. “Yeah, I don’t know about brave. It was just, well, my job. Plenty of other people did way more, like Dr. Abbot and Dr. Robby, who – ”
Foster interrupts him. “But it was literally your first day. That’d be like if there was a mass shooting right now.” She shudders. “I don’t know if I’d be that brave.”
Gwen rolls their eyes and clears their throat, signaling their presence in the doorway.
“Dr. Pierce!” Whitaker practically shouts.
He stands, grabbing his coffee and squeezing past them. “Please don’t tell Robby,” he mumbles as he goes by. “I can handle it.”
Gwen snorts. “This is you handling it?”
He sends them a pitiful look and they sigh, nodding. Whitaker quickly makes himself scarce. Gwen walks into the breakroom to pour themself some coffee.
“Soooo,” they start. “About Whitaker…”
“He’s really cute. Can I say that? It’s not, like, against the law, right?”
Gwen sighs again. “Yeah, it’s not against the law, but you want to be careful there. He’s with someone.”
Foster’s eyes are looking out the breakroom doorway. “It doesn’t seem like it to me. He was practically flirting with me.”
“You sure he wasn’t just being nice?” they ask, pouring some half and half in their coffee.
“No, I can tell. But I’ll be subtle, I promise.”
Gwen hums. This will only end in disaster.
Three hours later, Gwen and Foster have taken care of an accidental poisoning, a COPD flare-up, and two MVCs. Despite Gwen’s advice, Foster has not cooled her pursuit of Whitaker, who’s now taken to doing a 180 whenever he sees her in the corridor.
While Foster’s using the bathroom, Gwen chats with Santos at the central hub. Santos’s swing is nearly over.
“Robby is going to shit a brick if she pulls that crap around him,” Santos says, her face showing how absolutely delighted she is at the prospect.
Gwen groans. “I wish he would just say something directly. It’s embarrassing to watch her trying to flirt with him.”
Santos shrugs. “The boy is too nice to a fault. If he can avoid confrontation and hurting someone’s feelings, he will. Forever.”
Foster joins them. “What are we talking about?”
Gwen looks at Santos with a little panic. “Uh…”
“I’m about to go home, Foster,” Santos says, the smile on her face going a little mean. “Just want to offer some advice before I go.”
Foster nods, her face open and expectant.
“It’s your first day. Trying to sleep with your boss on your first day is a bad idea. Have a nice night, see you in six hours.”
And with that, she walks off. Gwen closes their eyes. They can hear Lena trying to suppress her laughter. Foster is not laughing when Gwen turns to her.
“I’m not being obvious. Am I being obvious?”
Gwen sighs. “Look. Dr. Whitaker is a nice guy, he’s a great doctor, a great teacher. But maybe just focus on what you want out of this rotation. There will be more opportunities to date people later.”
Foster sighs. “It’s just, I’ve never felt that electrical connection before. It’s like our souls melded.”
Lena’s eyes are wide and she quickly drops them to her computer screen.
“Er, how old are you, Foster?”
“I’m 24. I graduated college early.”
“Yeah.” Gwen sighs. “At the risk of sounding way too old, you’ll get over this. Please, just, give yourself – give all of us – a break and let’s get back to the medicine.”
“Fine,” she says and Gwen truly hopes she’s gotten the message.
The rest of the shift is pretty normal for an overnight. A heart attack, an overdose, two cases of GI distress, and a foreign body removal. Foster seems to get with the program, and Gwen notices that she actually improves as the night goes on, becoming quicker in her differentials, faster to spot small details, even as she’s clearly becoming more tired.
As the day shift starts wandering up to the hub, Gwen breathes a sigh of relief that they can go home, get some sleep, and not have to babysit again. They’re in the clear.
Until they notice Foster talking with Whitaker in the hallway between Trauma One and South 22. He looks a little uncomfortable and she’s smiling brightly at him. Gwen sighs. She must be trying to shoot her shot one more time. They carefully move closer to listen, in case Whitaker’s niceness gets him in even more trouble.
“You said you liked hard rock, so I figured we could go – ”
“Look, Foster, it’s very sweet of you to offer, but I’m actually – ”
Gwen’s eyes widen as they see the impending train wreck. Robby has clearly spotted the interaction and is moving to intercept. He walks around the South rooms to come up behind Whitaker. A very proprietary hand comes down on Whitaker’s neck. The man doesn’t even startle, Gwen notices, probably so used to Robby’s touch by now.
“Foster. You have a good first shift?”
“Uh, yes, Dr. Robby, thanks. Actually, Dr. Whitaker and I were having a conversation about – ”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I need to pull my husband away for a minute.”
Foster’s face blanches and Gwen seals their lips together to avoid laughing out loud. They really do feel bad for Foster, but they did warn her.
“Husband?” Foster asks faintly.
“Sorry,” Whitaker says sheepishly. “I was trying to tell you.”
“It’s fine!” Foster’s voice has gone up an octave. “I’ll just… I need to. Bye!” She turns and walks quickly toward the locker hallway.
Gwen shakes their head and turns back to the hub, but not before they hear a snippet of Robby and Whitaker’s conversation.
“Why did you do that? I was trying to let her down gently.”
“Baby, if I waited for that, she’d probably be an attending by the time it happened.”
“Thought you weren’t going to get all possessive at work anymore.”
“Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”
Whitaker groans. “You are impossible.”
“You love me.”
“God help me, I do.”
(+1) - Everyone
Robby quietly closes the door from the garage and slides off his shoes. The house is dark and quiet. He’d hoped that Dennis would still be awake, but isn’t surprised he hadn’t managed it. He walks down the hallway to the bedroom. The low light in the en suite is on, the door ajar, casting some light into the room for Robby to see well enough to shed his clothes.
Dennis is in bed, his gentle snores filling the room. Robby feels his gut clench at how lucky he is to be able to come home to this, his boy, asleep in their bed. He rinses off the shift in a quick shower, then dries himself and flicks off the bathroom light. Naked, Robby pulls back the covers to slide underneath them, and scoots across the bed to wrap his body around Dennis’s.
Dennis stirs, mumbling something. Then he comes awake, clutching Robby’s arm around his waist.
“Time is it?”
“Almost 1:30, baby, go back to sleep.”
“Thought we agreed you’d stop doing the swing.”
Robby shrugs. “There was a bit of a scheduling mix-up. Shen and I both thought Abbot was coming in, but his time off request got lost.”
Dennis grunts and Robby presses his face into Dennis’s curls, his thighs coming up to press against Dennis’s. Dennis goes quiet again and Robby thinks he’s fallen back asleep, until he starts talking.
“I was thinking about something.”
“Hmmm?”
“When are we going to tell people?”
“Tell people about what?”
“Mi-chael.” Dennis tugs on Robby’s arm.
Robby sighs, hooking his chin over Dennis’s shoulder. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, several times. Dennis wants to be public about their relationship, but Robby is reluctant, not wanting to jeopardize Dennis’s career.
“Lots of people know anyway. What difference does it make?”
Robby sighs again. “You know I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t you want to claim me publicly? Wear your ring? Take your name?”
At the last question, Robby freezes. They’ve never talked about that before. But now that he’s thinking about it, something deep and dark inside purrs at the idea of Dennis introducing himself as Dennis Robinavitch. He makes an involuntary growling sound in the back of his throat.
Dennis wiggles his hips, his ass bumping against Robby’s growing erection and he has a sneaking suspicion that Dennis has an ulterior motive for this conversation.
“What’s going on down here?” Robby reaches a hand between Dennis’s legs to cup his cunt.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, huh?” Robby’s fingers stretch back and then stop. “Baby? What were you doing while I was at work?”
Robby feels Dennis squirm a little. He pulls his hand away, only to slide it down Dennis’s crease where his hole is slick. Robby circles his rim and they both moan when his fingertip slips inside.
“I was thinking about you, daddy.”
Such an innocent voice. Luckily, Robby knows his boy is anything but innocent.
“What were you thinking about, baby?”
More squirming as Dennis pushes his hips back, trying to drive Robby’s finger deeper into his hole.
“Thinking about your cock in my ass, thinking about how it would feel to have your cum dripping down my thighs.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Robby grunts.
He slides his finger out then pushes it back inside as Dennis moans.
“How much did you prep?”
“I’m ready, daddy, I promise. Please, fuck me.”
Robby grunts again, pushing in a second finger, then a third. The ring of muscle is a little tight, but Dennis’s body is clearly ready to accept Robby’s cock.
How can he deny his boy anything?
He uses some of the lube Dennis had pushed into his hole to coat his dick, giving it a few more strokes to get it fully hard. Then he sets the tip against the entrance to Dennis’s hole, wrapping his other hand around Dennis’s waist.
“You ready, baby?”
“Fuck, yes, please, daddy, please fuck me.”
“Ok, baby,” Robby says softly in Dennis’s ear as he presses his tip inside of Dennis.
He goes slowly, being careful, even as desperate pleas to go faster fall out of Dennis’s mouth. Soon, he’s fully seated, his hips pressed against Dennis’s ass, and he has to take a moment to keep himself from spilling right then.
“Daddy,” Dennis moans, wiggling his hips, but stuck, impaled on Robby’s cock as Robby clutches Dennis around the middle.
“I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you.”
He starts slowly rocking in and out, then, setting a slow pace to drive Dennis wild. After a few minutes, he slides his hand down to Dennis’s cock, stroking it, running his thumb around the head. Dennis makes a keening sound, stretching his neck out for Robby to put his mouth there, suck on the skin.
Robby’s fingers travel farther south, until he’s tracing the opening to Dennis’s cunt. While still thrusting his dick slowly into Dennis’s ass, Robby presses his middle finger into his cunt, drawing a long, low moan, out of Dennis. He can feel how wet Dennis is, the smell of his arousal wafting up to his nose.
“Faster, daddy, please,” Dennis whines, and how can Robby say no to such a sweet request?
His hips pick up the pace, driving his dick deeper into Dennis’s hole, while he adds a second finger to his cunt. Robby is fast approaching the point of no return, but he needs Dennis to come first. He curls his fingers plunging into Dennis’s cunt, scraping the tips along the top wall and Dennis lets out a wail.
“That’s it, baby, let go. Being such a good boy for me.”
Dennis is past coherence now, just babbling as the tension in his body breaks and he comes all over Robby’s fingers. The feeling of his cunt clenching around Robby’s fingers has him giving two more hard thrusts, and then he’s filling Dennis’s hole.
Robby gently pulls out, wishing there were more light in the room so he could see his cum leaking from Dennis’s hole. He does the next best thing, and reaches down to pull Dennis’s body around and up so that he can put his mouth between Dennis’s legs. He laps it up, fingering Dennis’s asshole to make sure he gets it all.
“I wanna taste you,” Dennis moans and if he could get hard again so soon, Robby definitely would.
Trying not to swallow, Robby gently lowers Dennis back to the bed and leans over him, holding Dennis’s face between his hands. He opens his mouth and lets his cum and spit drop into Dennis’s mouth. He moans as he hear Dennis swallow it down.
“Christ, Den, you are going to kill me one of these days.”
Exhausted, he drops down to the bed, his cheek resting against Dennis’s chest. Dennis brings an arm up to pet Robby’s hair.
“So… you’re ok with people knowing about us?”
Robby huffs out a laugh. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”
He drops off to sleep after that, not caring much about anything in his post-sex haze.
The next morning, he sleeps in a little. When he sits up in bed, he’s alone. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table. Huh. There are way too many notifications. Had something happened on the overnight shift?
He has to reach over for his glasses to be able to see the screen. When he’s got his glasses on, his screen is just a wall of texts, some from people he hasn’t heard from in years.
Jack [07:02] about time you went public
Dana [07:14] Is he actually going to change his last name?
Terry [07:52] Hey man, haven’t spoken in a while, but congratulations!
Duke [08:12] glad you’re finally sharing the news
Kim [08:16] Congrats on being Instagram official!
Gloria [08:35] I was under the impression that you were going to maintain strict boundaries around your relationship, Dr. Robinavitch. We need to set up a meeting to discuss this.
Princess [08:51] you couldn’t have waited another two months so I could win the pool?
Jesse [09:02] congrats, man
Carlos [09:07] long time no see, but sending you congratulations
Shen [09:11] bro what is even going on
With growing horror, he remembers the conversation they’d been having right before he’d fallen asleep.
“Dennis!”
From somewhere else in the house, Robby hears, “Happy anniversary, daddy!”