Chapter Text
“You’re blushing again,” Trinity Santos commented to Dennis Whitaker with a smirk forming across her face.
“I am not,” Dennis said, trying his best to avoid her eye contact and deny her accusation.
They were standing side by side looking at the patient board, taking a brief moment in between the chaos of the ED. Dr. Robby had just come behind Dennis and laid a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. He told him that he had done good work in handling the trauma they just wrapped up. And then Robby was off to the next thing before Dennis got the chance to say something back.
That kind of touch was something Dennis had grown accustomed to while working with Dr. Robby. At first it had been a bit startling to be addressed by his attending in such a way. Dennis would slightly tense when the man's hands found his shoulders, getting small flashbacks of the way his brothers would roughhouse with him growing up. But unlike his brothers, Robby’s hands were both guiding and gentle, qualities that made Dennis feel like he was being looked after and not preyed upon. Dennis didn't see his attending treat the rest of the staff that way so he took it as a sign that Robby was singling him out for a reason. He assumed Robby saw him as weak or fragile, like one of the lambs back home who had been born a runt and would need careful attention if it was to survive with the rest of the herd. He wasn't a fan of the idea that his attending saw him as helpless or incompetent, but Robby’s touch did something to Dennis that he was a fan of, and he wanted it to continue.
When Dennis came back to the ED after completing his other rotations, he no longer felt like that lost lamb of a med student. His confidence as a doctor was starting to take root, and he could tell that others had noticed too. His patients treated him with more respect and now the new med students looked to him for instruction. He wondered if Robby noticed the difference too and if he wouldn’t find the need to corral him with his hands as much. But the touching hadn’t stopped, and Dennis couldn’t figure out what that said about how Robby saw him.
“Dude you’ve got to work on your poker face if you’re going to try to lie to me,” Santos replied, walking away from the desk to claim her next victim.
Dennis knew she was right. His face betrayed him when it came to hiding his feelings about Robby. It was getting worse everyday. If he couldn’t find a way to tame the neurons in his brain that caused the reaction, he seriously might have to consider looking into another place for his residency. Especially since recently, blushing had become a less embarrassing reaction his body had toward Robby.
Last week he and Robby were crowded over a patient in one of the trauma rooms. The room was tense as the team of doctors and nurses assessed the patient brought in with a gunshot wound. Robby needed a better look at the wound on the patient’s leg, and Dennis was in his way. Instead of telling Dennis to move over, Robby took his hands to Dennis’ hips and lightly pushed him to the right as Robby passed behind him, now appearing on his left. Dennis could almost feel the floor give way below him as Robby’s hands briefly lingered at his sides. He locked his gaze on the patient monitor, commanding every fiber of his body to act normal because the touch didn't really mean anything. He could feel the blood start to flow to his face and then a slight panic arose in him as blood threatened to rush into another part of his body. One that was a significant number of inches south of his face. Luckily everyone in the room was laser focused on stabilizing the patient that no one saw him briefly readjust his scrub pants.
He was more surprised by how casually Robby touched him there than his own body’s reaction to it. Most of Robby’s touch had been double fist bumps or his hands on his shoulders or arms. It had been friendly, playful, and work-appropriate. For months now Dennis thought about what work-inappropriate touching from Robby might feel like, but every time he did, a pit would form in the bottom of his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his attending in that way.
After leaving his home and religion, Dennis no longer believed that he wasn't supposed to think of any man in that way. He had been with men before and found no regret there. But a part of him still felt that if he had “lust in his heart,” it was as bad as acting on that feeling. And that made him want to reach in and squeeze his treacherous heart until it was under his rational control again.
He always felt guilty harboring feelings towards any man he presumed to be straight. It didn’t help that this one was nearly thirty years older than him, and his boss. He knew Robby wasn’t thinking of him that way, and the interpretation that his touch could mean something else threatened whatever good thing they currently had.
As much as Dennis had tried to ignore his burgeoning feelings for Robby, Robby’s constant presence and touch made that very hard for him to do. And now Dennis knew what it felt like to have Robby’s hands around his hips, his body pressed behind Dennis. The young man needed to come up with a plan of action to put an end to either his feelings or all the touching. Otherwise it wouldn’t just be Santos who’d catch on that he was hiding something.
-
“Only got to survive the next two hours,” Dana looked at Robby as his glasses were in his hands and his hands were brought up to his face.
This shift felt like it was hitting a record number of frustrating cases, and Robby’s patience was beginning to falter. First, he started his day having to navigate a case that involved potential elder abuse. Next was a bickering couple who couldn’t come to a consensus about the treatment for their kid. Then he lost a trauma patient who had been a pedestrian subjected to a hit and run. It was hard to see the good in humanity on days like today. All this pain circled around him like a sick merry-go-round, and he hadn’t figured how to get off.
“Dr. Santos is looking for you for her patient in room two,” Dana said, not letting Robby sit with his own thoughts for too long.
“Thanks, I’ll be right over,” Robby replied. He scrubbed his face with his hands, put his glasses away, and steadied himself to get back to work. He passed Whitaker on the way, and had to resist the urge to grab his shoulder. Something about that kid brought out Robby’s need to physically express himself. He wanted to demonstrate his guidance and pride to the young doctor. Or was it a selfish urge to use Whitaker to release the tension in his body? Perhaps the boy had become an unknowing participant in relieving Robby’s personal stress. He couldn’t let himself think about it too much, otherwise he may conclude the touch was inappropriate to be giving his resident and then he would have to stop.
When Robby reached the patient room, Santos was standing outside with a deep scowl on her face, staring off into the middle distance.
“What’d ya got for me?” Robby asked, noticing her behavior, but ready to proceed no matter what pain the other side of the door held.
“It's kinda a doozy,” she said, trying to lighten up, but not completely succeeding. “A twenty year-old male, barely conscious, brought in by his parents. They’re pretty sure he took a handful of household pills, but aren’t sure of exactly what. They think it’s an attempted suicide,” She added not looking at Robby at the last sentence. “He is stable now, but unable to explain what happened. His parents are kinda flipping out on him. Kiara is on her way too, but I figured you should get an understanding of the situation first.”
“Alright, good call, Dr. Santos. Let’s go in and see what we can do,” Robby replied.
As they entered, the boy’s mother rose from the bedside and immediately started asking question after question at first to the doctors, and then to her husband, and then to her son sitting on the bed. She was clearly having a difficult time processing everything. Santos stepped in to ask her to take a seat and started answering the questions they did have answers for. The father stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at his son, not saying a word. Robby could almost imagine the gears turning in the man's head trying to make sense of the reality before him, but unable to react, so instead he just stood there. The boy sat in the bed avoiding everyone’s eye contact and staring at his hands. He looked so young and healthy, and Robby's heart sank when he realized who the boy reminded him of.
It had been almost ten months since Pittfest, since the last time Jake and Robby shared a real conversation. He had wanted to give Jake the space he needed while also letting him know he'd be there when Jake needed him to be. But his phone calls were left unreturned and the texts from Janey told him that Jake just needed a little more time. She said he was keeping a lot to himself, but she had hoped he’d seek Robby out when he was ready to process it with him. Robby wasn’t even sure he himself would ever be ready to process everything from that day.
Kiara entered the room reading the situation and offered the suggestion that Santos stay with the patient and talk, while she took the mother to get something to eat, and Robby spoke to the father in the family room. Kiara recognized that each person needed something different in the moment, and she found a way to help each one of them.
Robby wasn’t sure if the father was going to be able to say anything, but he figured he could afford to sit in silence if that’s what was needed. They walked over to the family room without saying anything, and once they sat down Robby let whatever he had been feeling in the patient’s room go. He needed to be this man’s doctor, whatever he could offer to help.
“We don’t have to talk if that’s not what you’re ready for,” Robby stated. “But even if you can just tell me anything about your son, that might help us get an idea of what’s going on.”
The father shifted his eyes to the floor, and took a deep breath. “I wish I had any idea of what’s going on with my son,” he said, letting his thoughts spill out. “He just doesn’t talk to me anymore. We used to be so close. We’d watch our favorite sports together. We’d go biking around the city almost every weekend. But for the last year he’s been so distant, it feels like I don’t even know him anymore. He's not letting me in.”
Robby sat with what the man was saying, and he felt an impending wave of emotion heading towards him that he knew he’d be unable to ride out. Robby took a deep breath and asked the man more about when he started noticing a change in his son’s behavior, if he ever said anything that made him think he was suicidal. The father answered his questions, tears forming in his eyes as Robby witnessed the man’s solemn facade begin to collapse. This man needed Robby to be the professional here, so he held off the emotions stirring inside him as he nodded to the father and encouraged him to keep talking.
A few minutes passed, and a knock on the door came. Kiara was with the mother, who looked like she was in better shape, and said their son wanted to talk to them both. The father got up and shook Robby’s hand, said thank you, and then walked over to put his arm around his wife. Kiara nodded to Robby and then led the parents back to the patient’s room. Robby just stood where he was at. Now being left by himself, Robby knew he wouldn’t be able to leave this room and face the rest of his day. He wouldn’t be able to escape the amounting riptide that was starting to find its way to crash right into him.