Work Text:
"What're you doing out there, kiddo?" Jack asks, careful.
Dennis is farther than Jack has ever been, farther than Robby has ever been. He's not just past the railing on the rooftop of PTMC, he's sitting on the very edge, feet dangling.
Jack's heart is hammering in his chest. He thinks he might be sick.
He slowly walks over, keeps his footsteps quiet. He doesn't wanna startle Dennis, doesn't wanna cage him in or threaten him. Just wants to talk. "Kid?" He prompts a second time, trying not to sound as scared as he feels.
"...Everything hurts," Dennis says, mumbling, facing forward. "All the fucking time. God's sick fucking joke on me. Honestly? I don't find it very funny."
Bile gurgles up Jack's throat, souring his mouth. His stomach lurches just looking at Dennis- his Den. His boy, in so much goddamn pain. He tugs his phone out of his pocket with shaky hands, shooting a fast, desperate text to Robby.
Your angel's on the edge. Roof. Now. Quick and quiet.
"Not funny at all, kid," Jack replies gently, tucking his phone back into his pocket, leaning over the railing. "You wanna tell me about it?"
"Not really," Dennis whispers, and Jack has to strain his ears to make it out. "I just- I'm tired. I'm so, so tired."
"I know all about tired, hun. Why don't you let me help you up and we can go rest at home?" Jack offers, pleads. He's got a white-knuckle grip on the railing, ready to climb over and get his boy the second he gets an affirmative. "We can order in. Something greasy and fucking awful for us, that'll taste so good and make us feel like shit later."
"I wanna sit here," Dennis murmurs, much to Jack's dismay. Fucking hell, his heart might just beat out of his chest, forcing it's way past his ribs.
Jack swallows. It's stupid, that he knows, but it might just save the kid's life. "Will you let me sit with you?"
"Yeah," Dennis relents, voice small. "Yeah, okay."
Jack climbs over the railing, knees wobbly as he sits down next to Dennis, except just behind the ledge. He's not stupid enough to go quite as near to the edge as Dennis. The ground is so fucking far. He's been close, before, but never like that. He feels like a gust of wind could topple them both over. He holds his breath.
"Everything happens for a reason," Dennis murmurs, sounding hollow. "God doesn't make mistakes. Most trials are just- blessings in disguise. Doctrine and Covenants, 90:24.
"Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good."
Dennis breathes out, a tremble in his shoulders. "I just- I can't see- I don't-" he chokes, hands clutching to the edge of the building, scraping his palms on the slightly jagged metal, using pain to ground himself. "..I don't see the fucking point. I mean, I did pray. I believed. I begged. And still, still, I'm in a broken body with a fucked up head."
"I know all about that, kid, you know I do," Jack says, eyes trained on Dennis. "I know. And it's so hard, and it sucks so bad, and it's almost impossible to learn to live with. But you have to, okay? Selfishly, kid, I need you to. Robby needs you to. Please. You can't go down this route. You wanna burrow into our bed and stay there for a fuckin year? Fine by me. But don't you leave me, Dennis. Don't go," he manages, voice cracking.
"Jack.. I just don't know if I can take it," Dennis hiccups, breathing heavier, ragged, like every expand of his lungs cuts into him. "I n-need it to stop.. I need it all to stop, it hu-hurts, it hurts, please.." He presses a hand over his mouth to stifle sobs, starting to keel over.
"Holy fuck-" comes a choked off voice from behind them, strong, hairy arms wrapping around Dennis's middle and quickly hauling him back from the ledge. Dennis squirms in his grasp but Robby is practically throwing him to the safe side of the railing, ducking under and gripping onto Dennis's shoulders, shaking him a little. "Dennis, you are not allowed up on this goddamn roof," he grits, looking absolutely terrified, forcing a sharp tone to hide the shake. "Do you understand me?"
Jack gets to his feet, walking over to his boys, placing a steadying hand on Robby's shoulder, his other on Dennis's. "Take a breath, brother," he orders, voice quiet but firm. "In fact- let's all take a breath, okay? Alright?"
Jack squeezes both their shoulders, guides them in a few slow, deep breaths, 'til some of the tension melts away.
Dennis has turtle-shelled, pulled into himself. He looks small like this, shoulders curled inwards, eyebags even more pronounced then usual, eyes sunken and hollow. Jack's chest aches at the sight and wraps an arm around Dennis's shoulders, bringing him close.
"We talk about this at home," Robby mutters, throat working as he swallows back his horror. "I'm calling in Dr Shen to cover me. Jack, get him to the goddamn car."
Jack obeys, guiding a tremoring Dennis down the steps, Robby splitting off from them when he goes to call Shen and clock back out. The walk to the car is oppressively quiet, Dennis stonewalling, shutting down. Jack doesn't force him to talk, just keeps him close, rubbing a hand almost roughly up and down his arm, grounding him somewhat.
"Baby, c'mon," Jack murmurs when they reach the car, opening the car door for Dennis, urging him into the backseat. He rounds the car to settle into the driver's seat, locking it as soon as the door is closed.
Just a precaution.
Robby is rapping on the window a few minutes later, and Jack unlocks the doors for him. He climbs into the back with Dennis and immediately folds the boy into his lap, pulling him flush, as close as he can get him.
Jack glances in the rearview mirror to see that Robby is gripping Dennis so tight and desperate it must hurt at least a little, but Dennis isn't speaking up. He quietly rests his chin on the older man's head as Robby puffs shaky, broken breaths into the boy's neck.
Jack puts the car in drive, eyes flicking back ahead.
Robby is whimpering and mumbling in the backseat the whole ride home, rocking him and Dennis. "You're alive.. you're alive, baby, stay with me.. my angel.. my angel, why would you do that? Why the h-hell would you do that to me? Den.. my Den.. please.. please.."
...
Robby refuses to part with Dennis even for a second, carrying him into their home, up the stairs to the bathroom. Jack follows, careful, silently watching them both for now.
Robby undresses Dennis, kissing every inch of pale skin as it's revealed. He trembles as he kisses over Dennis's cut thighs, hot tears dripping onto the boy's skin. Dennis tenses, tries to pull back a little, eyes looking anywhere but Robby. He feels too exposed, expression twisting in discomfort.
"Robby," Jack says quietly, placing a hand on his husband's shoulder. His husband's distress and desperation is only making things worse, and his tendency to crowd and hold is overwhelming. Jack can't blame him for needing a solid reminder that Dennis is still here, alive, but it's not good for their boy. "Step back a moment? Give the kid some space."
Robby looks up at Jack, lost, distressed. "Wh- I can't. You can't ask me to do that. He needs me. Don't you? Den, do you want me to stay?" Robby pleads, cradling Dennis's cheeks, tilting his face up.
Dennis's throat works, swallowing thickly. He still looks hollowed out as he takes a deep, tired breath. "Robby, I-" his jaw clenches, and he looks guilty admitting it. "I need you to leave. Please."
Robby steps back, looking like he's been struck. He can't manage to say anything so he just leaves, quickly, hiding the beginnings of a breakdown. Dennis looks paler and Jack puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle, easy to push off if he needs to. "Hey. Don't worry about him. You know how he gets."
"Which is why you should just tell him to come back in," Dennis whispers, eyes down. He fiddles with his fingers, nails bitten down to the quick.
"Not gonna do that, honey," Jack hums, stroking his thumb over Dennis's skin where it rests on the cap of his shoulder. "This is not about Robby. This is about you. Okay?"
"I've just made your guys' life worse," Dennis mutters, self deprecation leaking into his lungs, flooding his throat. "That's all I've done. You two already had each other, and what did I do? Come here and fucking ruin it."
"Dennis," Jack admonishes, squeezing his shoulder. "Now, I know, and you know, that that's not true, even if you can't see it right now. You are a fucking blessing, Den."
Jack leans to run a bath, hand slipping from Dennis's shoulder as he adjusts the temperature. He doesn't look at Dennis, doesn't force any eye contact. He lets him speak at his own pace, find his own voice.
"...A blessing," Dennis mutters, scoffing under his breath. "You've gotta know how ironic that sounds, Jack. I'm the opposite of a fucking blessing, I'm- I'm a curse. A curse on my family, and now a curse on you and Robby. Nobody wants this, Jack. I've always been a useless, weak, failure fag-"
"Enough," Jack bites, unable to take it anymore. Dennis quiets. "That's enough, Den. Don't even entertain that. You wanna think about something? Think about how fucking much I love you." Jack hadn't said it aloud before, and he can see the soft inhale that Dennis takes, sees how it affects him. Good. "Get in the bath, Den."
Dennis obeys, climbing into the bath and settling under the water, sighing quietly despite himself. Jack sits down on the ledge, making no move to clean Dennis or fuss over him. He needs to be watched, cared for, but not babied. Not crowded. Not quite yet.
"Last night was... hard," Jack says, slowly. "You don't work night shift with me all that often. It was a rough one. Lot of patients lost. And I know.. I know whatever is going on with you runs much, much deeper than that, but the hospital adds to it. And you have been amazing, Dennis. You get more capable every shift. Patients love you. Nurses love you. We love you."
Dennis is quiet, sinking a little further into the water. Jack sighs.
"Look, kid- I don't have all the answers. Hell, I don't know if I have any answers. But you're not alone."
"...I know," Dennis whispers, staring off into space. "I know."
"Talk to me," Jack pleads quietly. "It helps, I know that, firsthand. Get some of that weight off of your chest before it crushes you. And don't talk bad about yourself, or your own perceived worthlessness like it's fact. Talk about what's making you feel that way. Help me understand, Den."
"...I think I just hate myself," Dennis whispers, blinking rapidly, tears forming. "I hate myself. I fuck up all the fucking time, in the ED, at life in general. I just hurt Robby. I've been fucking up since I was a kid, I can't do anything right. My parents don't talk to me. My mom tried, but I broke her fucking heart when I left the church. And did it make me happy? No. So maybe it was the truth, and I'm following- worldly shit, and it'll only make me fucking miserable- but no, I was miserable as a good little church boy too. Fuckin' served a mission, even, so depressed the whole time I could barely catch my breath. Y'know I kissed a guy on that mission? I could've been sent home. I should've been. Fucking up even my own eternal salvation. I can't stand the sight of myself," Dennis sobs, breaking, curling up. He whimpers into his knees, trying to keep quiet, like he's too used to breaking down in a houseful of people he doesn't wanna bother.
Jack doesn't push. He doesn't try to get Dennis looking at him, he just picks up a sponge and lathers it with soap. He hums softly as he starts washing Dennis's back, massaging his pale skin. "I gotcha," he murmurs, setting the sponge down, switching to rubbing his back, shoulders, neck, working out sore muscles. "Just cry. I gotcha."
"Robby can come back now," Dennis sniffles, shaky. "Please."
"If that's what you want."
"It's what I want."
Jack nods, ruffling Dennis's damp little curls. "Okay, bud. You stay right here, I'll go get him."
...
Jack finds Robby curled up on their bedroom floor, clutching at his chest and panting, still trapped in his panic. Jack sinks to his knees next to his lover and cradle his face, pulling him in for a kiss.
It's slow, soft, sweet, meant to soothe and calm. As touch-driven as Robby is, it almost always works.
This time is no different. Robby gasps a deep breath when Jack pulls away, his shoulders dropping. "..I'm sorry," he whispers, clutching to Jack's wrist, nuzzling into the palm on his cheek. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I was just- I got so scared, and, I- I tunnel visioned-" Robby shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.
"Shhh," Jack soothes, the pad of his thumb dragging over his husband's cheek. "It's okay. It's alright. It was fucking scary. He just needed a minute- but he wants you back, baby, he needs you."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. Requested it himself. Go take care of your boy, Mikey. I'll be right there."
He helps Robby get to his feet and watches him go, taking a moment to breathe. He's trying so hard to be strong, for Dennis, for Robby, but it hurts. Dennis is bringing back all of his worst fucking days on that roof, times when he didn't think he'd make it himself. It's not the boy's fault, so it sucks it up. Ignores the pain in his ribs.
He'll tell his therapist about it later. It'll be fine.
He takes a moment to sit down and remove his prosthetic, groaning quietly at the soreness in his stump. He grabs his crutches and makes his way back to the bathroom, the door already cracked and spilling warm light into the hall.
When he opens the door, the sight that greets him is soft. Robby has joined Dennis in the bath, cradling him close, massaging his scalp as he murmurs some old story from back in the day. His voice is low and soothing, and Dennis's face rests in the crook of Robby's neck. He's stopped crying, stopped shaking.
"Water's still warm. We have room for one more, if Dennis is okay with being squished," Robby offers, head cocking, eyes warm as he looks up at his husband.
"I'm definitely okay with being squished," Dennis says, voice muffled. Robby chuckles fondly, looking back down at the sweet, beautiful boy in his arms.
Jack melts, letting out a breath of relief, his chest loosening for the first time in hours.
"Well, if you guys insist.."