Chapter Text
Dr. Robinavitch’s gaze could feel like a physical touch sometimes.
Right now it felt like a second pair of hands around his wrists.
Dennis sucked in a breath and finished setting up for the wound closure. He took a seat on his rolling stool and wheeled himself closer to the patient bed, stepping on the pedal that let him lower the base ever so slightly. Dennis shook off the brief spike of anxiety. The familiar metallic tang of blood was in the air and there was work to do.
Robby fidgeted in his forcibly reclined position, gaze finally leaving Dennis and dropping down to his own arm. He prodded at the tattered flesh on the back of his left forearm with his uninjured right hand. Blood oozed sluggishly towards the sanitary paper spread beneath his arm.
Dana immediately delivered a swat to the back of Robby’s head as Dennis picked up the lidocaine injection she had just finished preparing for them. The force knocked Robby’s glasses slightly askew.
Doctors always make the worst patients.
“Stop touching that shit.” Robby looked genuinely chastised, pulling his hand away from the wound and straightening his glasses. “Right.” Dana sighed. “You got this Whitaker?”
“Got him right where I want him.” Dennis assured her, not looking up from his work. “Brief sting.” He warned Robby, just before hitting the plunger on the syringe. The attending’s normally stoic face gave away the discomfort. He turned away from the needle and allowed himself a sharp inhale. Dana sighed, ever sympathetic despite her frustration. She put a finger in Robby’s face.
“Behave, dumbass.” It was not a threat in words, but definitely in aura. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. “And you-“ she pointed at Dennis next, “-thank you, Den. I owe you one.” She exited the cubicle and closed the curtain behind her. Whitaker reached up, adjusted his light, and started observing the wound.
“So. Come here often?” Robby attempted to lighten the mood. Dennis snorted and shook his head.
“Dana said she caught you trying to clean this out yourself.”
“And I would have gotten away with it too…” Robby’s nose wrinkled with discontent.
“I’m going to move you, let me know if something feels off.” Dennis rotated Robby’s arm, ever so gently, touching him with two fingers beneath his elbow and two beneath his wrist. Robby’s pulse hammered beneath his touch. Dennis watched the way the flesh reacted. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m afraid the smeared up blood trail on the floor leading to the men’s room wasn’t as subtle as you thought it was.” Dennis spared a glance upwards. Robby winced as his arm was moved.
“Blood trail? It was just a few drops. You should have seen the other guy.” He continued to joke to distract from the discomfort.
“Someone was transporting a patient in a wheelchair. Ran through your uh…drops. It trailed all the way up to the front doors.”
“Well.” Robby sighed deeply. “Damn.”
“What the fuck happened here?” Dennis stopped rotating the forearm and let the lidocaine get to work.
“Kid got dropped off by Pitt Campus PD. Looked like a bad trip. Substance induced psychosis or something similar. He pulled one of those three pronged gardening hand rakes out his pants to ward off the demons. Not sure what they’re doing with him now. I’m not gonna press charges or anything.”
“Oof.” Dennis pulled a face, leaning down a little further to inspect what Robby had started in terms of cleaning. The wound appeared irrigated and free of clothing fibers. Decent job.
“Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. Whitaker?”
“Yep.” Dennis cocked his head, lost in thought as he prepared his sutures. Three parallel lacerations, each about 4 inches long. They were ugly to look at. Deep enough to bleed but blessedly - shallow enough to avoid damage to the muscles. The skin and clothes had taken the brunt of the damage. There would be scars but they would fade if he played his cards right.
Robby had either ripped or cut away the arm of his long-sleeve undershirt. The jagged hem and the short sleeve of his scrub top had been rolled up to his shoulder, exposing the bicep. Dana appeared to have gotten a good start on prepping Robby before sending for Dennis.
“Do you want me to double up on the irrigation or get to the stitches?” Dennis put the choice in Robby’s hands. He was used to picking up where others left off at this point. Robby sighed, finally having the audacity to look bashful at the situation.
“Yeah, I did a rinse. Dana irrigated and took a precautionary blood sample before she paged you. She would have ripped me a new one and closed up herself but her family was waiting for her.” The night crew was trickling in. Day shift was ending. Dennis nodded. The stitches wouldn’t be a particularly quick job, despite the ease of the procedure.
“I suppose I can’t persuade you to wait for the blood work.”
“Been here almost 20 hours. I’ll call in to check tomorrow. Put ‘em in so we can get out of here and sleep.” Robby scrubbed a hand over his face. “Please…and sorry.” He looked wiped.
“Well. Dibs on the debridement if it gets worse.” Dennis sighed. Despite the fatigue, Robby’s eyes were soft and kind tonight.
“Deal.”
Dennis flexed his hands and stretched his wrists compulsively.
“Let me know if you need a re-up on lidocaine.”
“Nah. You got good hands.” Robby said. Dennis tried not to read into it. “I mean, I think you can beat the clock.” Robby corrected himself again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as Dennis finally got to work.
Four years of medical school and all the accumulated weeks spent in the ER did not prepare Dennis for how it would feel to push a needle and prolene suture through Robby’s skin. Trickles of the man’s blood dotted his gloves. His skin was warm to the touch, even through the nitrile gloves.
The attending physician was quite literally flayed open before him, like the subject of a tragic painting in a museum, but a strange calm blanketed Dennis.
He was good at this. And he would do good work now, when it mattered, as it was needed. There was trust there too. Robby kept his twitching to a minimum and offered no commentary. He watched Dennis work. The gaze felt like something warm and gentle on his knuckles this time. It was…encouraging.
The curtain parted with a low whistle shortly after Dennis placed the first three stitches.
“Damn brother.” Abbot let himself in. Robby waved him off but Abbot was undeterred. He was still carrying his bag and sipping his pre-shift coffee. He leaned over, carefully staying out of Dennis’s light. He whistled again. “Ooh. He got you good alright. Well. Good news. They just finished scraping your DNA off the floor.” Abbot squeezed Robby’s shoulder. “The blood, sweat, and tears are supposed to be metaphorical.”
“Yeah yeah.”
“I think you’ll live, though.”
“I’ll live.” Robby rolled his eyes as Abbot grinned, continuing to demonstrate unfettered glee at his misery.
“Get well soon champ. I’m clocking in. I’ve got your patients.”
“Thanks, man.”
”Whitaker, I’m around. If he wiggles too much give me a ring. I’ll bring the restraints.”
“Will do.” Dennis responded, once again determined not to read into it. Abbot let them be.
Dennis got another four stitches done before the curtain opened again.
“There you are!” Santos was in her street clothes, carrying a redbull, and looking very ready to head home. “Oh that’s disgusting.” She came closer to gawk at the wound. “Dude… that must have hurt like a bitch.”
“Jesus is there a line out there, or something?” Robby scrubbed a hand over his face. Santos ignored him, electing to observe Dennis as he worked instead, holding still and quiet for a minute.
“Nice work, baby boy.” She tapped his back with the back of her hand and held out her redbull. Dennis leaned back, out of spilling range, and accepted a comically large sip from the can before getting back to work.
“I didn’t see that.” Robby moaned, letting his head fall back in the patient chair.
“Yeah, just like I didn’t see all the blood and tissue samples you donated in the bathroom.” Santos teased.
“Why were you in the men’s?” Robby furrowed his brow.
“Shen almost passed out in there and yelled for help, he thought someone got murdered over the sink.” Santos snorted. Robby groaned, screwing his eyes shut. “I believe my wellness check is complete, you both appear to be alive. Should I come back and get you, Huckleberry?” Dennis paused and looked up.
“Nah, I’ll catch up. Go on.”
“I’ll keep it warm for you.” She offered up another sip of the energy drink, which Dennis accepted. She kissed her knuckles and none-too-gently knocked on his head after he swallowed.
The curtain swished closed and stayed closed. Dennis was smiling as he got back to work.
“Date night?” Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to un-see the antics. They were lucky he didn’t have a leg to stand on tonight.
“God no.” Dennis pulled a face that startled a laugh out of Robby. “It’s just our Friday routine. Pizza, beer, and watching something stupid. No studying. No phones and uh…no dates.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Keeps us sane…but I think she wants to catch up on Dancing with the Stars tonight, so I’m not in any particular hurry to finish this.”
“Really?” Robby looked downright unnerved.
“Hey. You didn’t hear it from me.”
They shared a laugh and fell into a comfortable quiet. After a few minutes, Dennis successfully closed the first laceration. He took a moment to stretch his hands and dab away some blood. Robby casually inspected the work. It was pretty damn flawless.
“Thank you.”
“You’d do the same for any of us.” Dennis shrugged. He examined the wound again before starting in on the second laceration. “I got something similar to this on my back when I was a kid.” He continued, attempting to keep it light and conversational. “Silicone sheets helped a lot. There’s not much scarring left. I think you can get those over the counter now.”
“You took a garden rake to the back?” Robby’s eyebrow popped up, latching on to the first detail.
“Oh- no. Got thrown off a horse. Crashed through the paddock fence. An old plank gave way and scratched me up pretty bad. Kinda looked like this.”
“Damn.” Robby chuckled. “I thought the Huckleberry stuff was kind of mean at first but-“ Dennis shook his head at the teasing, still smiling.
“Surely I’m not the first farm kid to pass through here.” He volleyed back.
“Certainly not.” Robby agreed. “Our first from Nebraska though…and probably our first ever rat catcher.”
“Faster. More humane.” Dennis shrugged.
“Anything other than horses and rats on that farm?”
“Oh yeah. Fifty head of cattle, ten or twenty pigs a year. Ten acres of corn. Dad loves sheep though. Those are his pride and joy. I think he was up to thirty or forty last time I was there. The horses were mostly for fun, but we helped saddle train colts for ranch work. People would come from all over to give us green horses for breaking.”
“Damn.”
Dennis paused to sponge away some blood.
“Still good?”
“All good, I’m just…impressed.”
“Really?”
“I thought I was tough stuff for finally figuring out my own oil changes last year.” Robby said. Dennis frowned.
“No one taught you?”
“We live in a Pep Boys monopoly. Possibly government funded.”
“The culture shocks keep coming.” Dennis huffed. “Stop making me laugh, or you’ll leave here with lightening bolts. Are you feeling any pressure?” He paused the movement of the needle again and caught himself running a finger across the edge of the wound as if to soothe the phantom pain.
“You’re doing great. Barely feel anything.” Robby knuckled his eye with his free hand. “How are you feeling about uh…wrapping up here soon?”
“Oh. It’s uh…surreal. I should be thrilled, I guess. One last rotation and then it’s time to rank. I don’t think it’ll sink in until the match letter is in my hand, though.”
“You sound…not so thrilled.”
There probably was a more tactful way to put it but they were both too tired for that. It made Dennis shrug again as he closed the second incision.
“Sorry. I uh…I’m a little sad. I didn’t expect to like this so much. And the idea of not coming back here feels a little…unnatural. I’ll get over it. I’m applying here for internship, obviously, but…” Dennis refused to look up, abruptly self conscious. How does one talk about themselves with their fingers borderline under someone else’s skin? “I’ve been talking your ear off, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s nice. I’m glad. You’ve been busting your ass around here and speaking up and…I’ve noticed.” Robby was watching his hands again. “Sending you on your way will feel like a real loss. I hope we get you back.”
“That’s uh…nice to hear. Didn’t think I’d ever live down the embarrassment of day one.”
“This is probably a pot calling the kettle black, but I think you’re a little hard on yourself sometimes.”
“I’ll spare you the scriptures this time.” They shared a light laugh over that. The ER kept moving around them. Tears. Laughter. Machine beeps.
“You have my number right?” Robby asked. Dennis looked up then, but the attending was still watching his hands.
“Yeah. Dana hands it out for emergencies.”
“Use it whenever you like.” Robby shrugged. “Work aside you’ve uh…given me a hand when I needed it. And I’m happy to return the favor.” Dennis blinked.
His mind naturally turned to PittFest. His stomach twisted. He swallowed a small wave of nausea. Recovery for some things passed more quickly than others.
Dennis looked at his gloves and remembered taking Robby’s hand.
He remembered pulling Robby up to his feet.
He remembered the stench of blood and sweat coating the air.
He remembered barely suppressing the urge to push Robby back…and barely suppressing the urge to wrap an arm around Robby’s neck, to force his head up like he would to steady and calm a ram during shearing season.
“No debt owed.” Dennis said softly, swallowing down everything else under threat of spontaneous immolation.
“Course not. I just uh…know being away from family is hard. Especially in our line of work.”
“I’d have to be gone for a few more shearing seasons for anyone to care.” Dennis murmured, before stilling and mentally punching himself in the back of the head. “Sorry. Rambling. Just tired.”
“You can lean on me.” Robby said, gentle as anything. They fell quiet as the third incision came to a close. Dennis changed his gloves and cleaned away the last of the blood.
He took his time, checking his work meticulously. He gently grasped Robby’s wrist and rolled his hand a few different directions to see how the skin of his forearm reacted.
“Lidocaine wearing off?” He asked.
“Starting to. Stings a little.” Robby adjusted his glasses again as he looked at his clean and repaired arm. “Looks like you’ve been doing this for years. Better than mine.”
“I think I dug my thumb in a little hard here to brace myself.” Dennis brushed his pinkie over a spot on the side of Robby’s forearm. “Sorry in advance if you bruise up.”
“Hey, I didn’t even notice.”
Their heads were ducked a bit close together due to the joint inspection. When Dennis looked up they were eye to eye.
“Any dizziness? Nausea?” He asked, half whispering.
“No. Excellent job, Dr. Whitaker.”
Dennis smiled again.
“Don’t jinx me, now. ”
“Nah. It’s in the bag, Whitaker.”
Robby probably could have taken over from there, but Dennis wordlessly set to preparing a dressing. Robby sat up and swung his legs down from the bed, stretching and flexing his other limbs before Dennis gently took his arm again.
Dana had passive aggressively only provided the printed gauze stock they used for children. Dennis, noticeably, did not seek out a replacement. It was blue with small green outlines of various emojis. Neither of them could stop grinning at it.
“How are you getting home?” Dennis slid back into patient-care mode.
“Weather was nice. I walked in this morning.” Dennis nodded, satisfied that Robby wouldn’t be driving.
“You like the cold?” Dressing complete, he snapped his gloves off for good. He passed him a plastic cup with a few Tylenol capsules.
“Yeah.” Robby took his medicine dry. “City gets quieter. Feels easier to think.” It should have been awkward. They shouldn’t have hovered. Dennis hesitated, but then let his hand fall to Robby’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.
“I’m glad you’re okay. Could have been a lot worse.” Robby nodded his agreement.
“Embarrasing as hell.” He admitted gruffly. “You off tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Me too.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Dennis felt his face get hot. Robby moved to stand. Vertigo inconveniently kicked in. Dennis patiently steadied him, hand coming up to brace his chest. Robby leaned into it.
“Got you.” Dennis furrowed his brow. The man’s pulse still felt elevated under his hand.
“I hope your last shifts go slowly. We’re gonna miss you a lot.” Robby repeated. Dennis felt teary. He took his hands back and gestured to Robby’s arm.
“Dana might not be so nice next time, if you pull this again.”
“She was in a coddling mood tonight, wasn’t she?” Robby sighed. “Don’t follow my example. That was… stupid. Like really fucking stupid. And a hazard. I’m probably gonna have a lot of emails about it waiting on me tomorrow.”
Dennis had a hypothesis. And a selfish wish. He grabbed Robby’s other shoulder, close to the neck, and squeezed. An identical gesture to the one Robby doled out on the daily...and Robby didn’t shy from receiving that touch at all.
His pulse kept pounding, right under Dennis’s thumb.
“I’m sure you had your reasons.” He said, head suddenly full of competing thoughts. “You’re looking a little red. Still okay?”
“Probably the adrenaline crash.” Robby gave his hand a clumsy pat. “Thanks for looking after me.”
They cleaned up, collected their things, and closed out. They parted with a wave in front of the hospital.
Robby walked home, hands flexing compulsively the entire way. He touched strangers almost all day everyday without issue…being touched could simply not be the issue.
He couldn’t allow it, not now.