Work Text:
They had gotten into a sort of… routine, since Robby left for his trip. Dennis would get settled into Robby’s bed after a long, grueling shift, and, after thoroughly working himself up, gather the courage to hit the call button on Robby’s contact. Every time, without fail, Robby would answer before the third ring. And every time, he would grin to himself on the other line as he asked Whitaker to switch to a video call. Something about seeing him in his bed, tucked in, calm and flushed… he just couldn’t miss that. So, Robby got into the habit of keeping his phone off ‘do not disturb’ when he knew it was about the time that Whitaker was settling into bed. Just in case. Some nights, the younger doctor worked doubles or just slept at the hospital. Those nights were always the hardest for Robby.
Dennis needs the calls just as much, though. He didn’t realize how hard it would be to go without the praise he was used to. Those subtle, reassuring touches, the soft talks in the break room, that specific voice telling him that he did his best, he did enough.
Maybe that’s how all this started. With him desperately needing to be told he was doing ok, doing enough. The first night that he called, fingers shaking as he forced himself to press the button, was difficult to say the least. His head was reeling with the day’s struggles and mistakes, things he should have caught and didn’t, things he should have said, not said, should have done, not done. Usually, Robby would have caught him in the hallways, scolded him for being hard on himself or pointed out something that he could do better next time. But without that grounding voice, that logical, kind, constructive presence, those strong hands on his shoulders, grounding him, he felt lost.
He only lasted about a week of that before the first call. The eighth day since Robby had been gone, he felt sick with guilt, pressure, anxiety. Everything was so overwhelming. It was embarrassing and agonizing to have to call his superior for… for what? Reassurance? Praise? A pat on the back? But that waswhat he was missing, what he needed. And Robby gave it to him, encouraged him to call more, and so, what was Dennis supposed to do? Of course he called. He needed him, he finally admitted to himself, so the calls became more and more, until it turned into every time he settled into Robby’s bed. The older doctor had a way of grounding him.
“Whitaker? Is everything ok?” Robby’s voice on the other line was curious in the pitch black of the bedroom, Dennis’ phone the only soft light. Oh, right. He lets out a little huff of breath. When did it become this, though? Something more than just praises and soft words? More than a whispered good night and that was that?
“Hmm? You’re quiet tonight, huh? Can I see you?” Robby’s voice is rough, pulling him out of his thoughts and sending a shiver down his spine. Dennis nods, then realizes Robby can’t see him, so he clicks the video button on the phone screen. His face pops up on the full screen before Robby accepts, and he can see how flushed and wrecked he already looks. It isn’t usually so obvious. Probably.
When Robby’s face takes the spot as the big icon and Dennis becomes the small box on the top, he smiles softly, no longer worrying about how he looks. Robby grins back, in some cheap hotel room he probably just has for tonight. Whitaker never asks where he is, and Robby never offers the information. They both know he’d rather focus on Dennis than discussing his own ‘things.’ Sometimes, Dennis wonders if he has someone else to call for that.
“Hey,” Dennis whispers, blinking at him with wide eyes, “what time is it for you?”
He already knows it’s the same as yesterday - two hours behind him. “10:30,” Robby tells him anyway. “And it’s… 12:30 for you.” Yup.
Dennis just nods, his hand shaking a bit as he slides his other hand down, under the covers, to grip himself through the pajama pants he’s wearing. He was already worked up, but hearing Robby’s voice makes it ache even more. “I, um… How was your day?”
Always awkward like this, even though they both know what’s going on by now. Dennis’ screen shakes as he pushes his hand against his cock, digging his palm down to try to get some friction. Not enough, but it makes his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and Robby chuckles. “My day was good,” he drags out the words, knowing that Dennis needs just a little more time. Loves to see him get desperate, loves hearing the subtle wet sounds as he starts actually stroking himself, loves when he makes the younger have to address what he needs. “Not much going on, it was nice out and I made good distance. Met some interesting people at this shitty diner I stopped at for lunch. I don’t even have to ask how your day was. Already know it was fucking crazy.”
Of course, Robby is right. Dennis’ day was shit, but it definitely could have been worse. They both know that. Every day, Dennis is scared Robby will end up coming to them. It’s an irrational, stupid fear. He wouldn’t be taken to them -- he would be somewhere far away, nothing for Dennis to do but worry. Is he his emergency contact? No, that’s insane, they aren’t even dating, this is just… This. Right? He opens his eyes that he didn’t realize he had closed, biting his bottom lip a little and staring at Robby’s, wondering what it would be like to kiss him right now. It makes his hand move, sliding down his sleep shorts and finally, finally gripping himself without fabric buffering between. He lets out a sigh, heavy as the camera shakes, and Robby chuckles.
“Hm, you seem a little tired, Dennis, should I let you go?” He says that every night, to the point Dennis rolls his eyes every time. Robby just smirks. “I wonder what you’re doing over there, in my bed, in my sheets. Care to tell me?” He does this every night too. Robby had realized very early on in this ‘arrangement’ that Dennis liked to be teased like that, questioned and called out. Maybe Dennis liked the embarrassment, or maybe he just needed the reminder that he was special, the only one allowed in Robby’s home, his bed, and, if Dennis could pretend, his heart. And Robby liked to give him what he needed, which were these little teasing phrases repeated most nights over the phone, his acts of caring for the younger seeping through the speaker.
Dennis lets out a breathy whine, only audible in this little pocket of space. “S-sorry Dr. Robby, I just- can’t really help it…” he mumbles, blushing, “I had to start- start touching…” His face feels like it’s burning, and he can barely look at himself in the little bubble of his image on the screen. He focuses on Robby’s smirk, his calmness, grounding him. Maybe this is also what grounds Robby, Dennis hopes.
“Ah-ah, don’t apologize, just tell me, would it make you feel good to see me touch myself too? Can I do that for you, Dennis?” His voice is the slightest bit shaky, the only recognizable sign that he might be just as affected as Dennis. Dennis nods his head enthusiastically, his hand pumping a little faster at the thought of Robby touching himself, and then the thought continues further, turning into a wondering spark of Robby touching him, kissing him, making him cum--
“Fuck, please, please show me,” he groans out, “I want it.” More like need, but he can have a little bit of self control, right? He watches as Robby smirks again, always so teasing but really does what Dennis wants so fast. His phone gets propped up to the side of him, and Dennis can see the motel room a little better from this angle. It looks like any generic room, and he wonders if Robby misses his own room, his own bed. He can’t know that Robby thinks about riding home every day just to go embrace him in that bed.
As Robby undresses, Dennis continues to stroke himself, little huffs of breath filling the space. The screen goes dark when Robby accidentally shifts too much and when he picks his phone back up, Dennis has propped his own phone so Robby can see most of him. Dennis’ eyes go wide as he takes in the view of Robby sitting up, gripping his own hard cock. “Oh my god,” he whispers, precum leaking from his tip as he watches the older man stroke so, so slowly up to the tip. “This is how I’d touch you, nice and slow,” Robby mumbles, watching as Dennis follows his lead. The movement is too slow for how worked up Dennis already is, but he tries to comply for the time being. “Dennis,” his voice is a little stern, a little bossy. “Tell me what you would do if I were there. Would you be good for me?”
Of course that elicits a nod from him, along with a hot exhale. “Yes,” he whispers, bordering on a whimper. Robby loves how desperate and pliant he gets, almost every time they do this. “I would be so good, would let you… let you touch me wherever. However.” And although he doesn’t outright ask, Robby knows that it’s a question - what would you do to me?
He hums, “Oh really? Anywhere?” He smirks again as he grabs his little bottle of lube and slicks up his hand before starting to jerk himself off a little faster, but still controlled. Dennis follows suit, almost as if Robby has given him directions to. “You’d let me fuck you? Let me finger you open and-” And Dennis is already nodding frantically, moaning as he pumps himself with one hand and slides his other behind him, cold lube making him breathe out heavily. “Oh, yeah, I see how much you need it now,” his smug voice makes Dennis shiver as he pushes a finger in, “getting my sheets all dirty with how badly you need to be filled up, huh?”
This part doesn’t happen every night -- Dennis fingering himself, Robby going this far with the dirty talk. In fact, Dennis isn’t sure it’s ever been this overt and filthy before. Usually the call is just filled with his own panting, Robby guiding him through jerking himself off, the two of them whispering curse words on speaker, showing each other just how much they both needed this. The intensity of tonight, the allowance of Dennis to really imagine being fucked by Robby… it’s a lot. Pair that with the combination of his hand on his cock and his now two fingers inside of himself, he can tell that he’s not going to last long.
“Yes,” his voice is soft but laced with heat and arousal and, embarrassingly, desperation. Need. “You’re- you’re right, I need it, I’m sorry Dr. Robby,” he can feel himself getting close. “Fuh- fuck, I- I can’t- I’m close!” He squeezes his eyes shut, because if he keeps watching Robby’s big hands on his cock, he knows he really will cum. So that means he can’t see Robby shaking his head.
“Ah-ah, no, not yet. Stop.” Dennis stops his movements and opens his eyes, wide and questioning. “You can last a little longer, right Dennis?” He nods, even if he doesn’t think he can. He will do anything to keep pleasing Robby. “Good, good. Keep going, but slow down.” Maybe Robby knows Dennis needs this, to be unraveled. Or maybe Robby needs it. Probably both. So Dennis continues his movements, having to stop his hand at the base of his cock and squeeze every so often, watching Robby, little moans leaving his lips as he thinks about how his cock would feel inside him, stretching him out, hitting deep inside.
Please, he means to say, but all that falls from his lips are needy moans, and the name Michael. He hasn’t called him that before, but it seems to do something to the man, Dennis watching as Robby whispers, “Fuck,” and starts pumping faster. “Come on baby, come on Dennis, you can cum for me, be good, show me how good you feel, how much you like being in my bed, my house, myfucking pajamas,” he grits out, and Dennis’ eyes go wide. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, huh? I fucking noticed, I love it, I want you to do it more. You probably smell like me, ah, Dennis,” and suddenly at that thought, Dennis is spilling all over his hand with a loud gasp, cock twitching and pulsing as his cum gets on the shirt, the sheets, the bed. His shirt, his sheets, his bed. Fuck, the sight makes Robby almost insane with desire as he cums shortly after, whispering Dennis’ name a few times as he does.
For a few minutes, all that can be heard is heavy breathing from both ends. Dennis curses, wiping his hands on the sheets - he has to wash them anyway, now. Robby smiles at that, soft and calm after that intense orgasm. “Well,” he chuckles a bit, “you certainly outdid yourself, Dennis.” It makes Dennis blush, groaning.
“Oh my god, that was insane,” he mumbles, “sorry, I kinda… got your shirt dirty.” Is he sorry at all, really? He looks into the camera, smiling at Robby shyly.
“Ah-ah, don’t worry, Dennis. You can have as many shirts as you want,” and maybe it’s too sweet for them, but Robby’s smile is sincere and Dennis feels his body flush at the thought of wearing more of Robby’s big shirts. His mind flickers to wearing Robby’s underwear for a moment, and maybe that’s enough excitement for one night.
Dennis picks up the phone from where it’s propped up. “Thank you. That was… really nice. I needed that.”
“So did I. Really.” Robby seems a little sad, the way he looks into the camera at Dennis. But now is not a good time to overthink that. Not when they really should be hanging up and getting to bed soon. “You should get some sleep,” Robby’s voice is slowly going back to the normal roughness, and Dennis doesn’t mind. He likes being told what to do.
He nods, “Yeah,” a little whisper. “You should too. I’m sure you’ll be riding a lot tomorrow again.” Maybe there’s a little sadness to Dennis’ voice too, but neither of them comment on what that might mean.
After they hang up, Dennis tries not to wonder about what this all might come to. Will Robby return home? And if he does, will Dennis have to go, or will they become… more than these phone calls? The thought of if he doesn’t has crossed his mind often, too. Especially after their talk when Robby first suggested Dennis stay here. Every time he thinks about it, he feels disturbed with what he’s doing. Are these calls really helpful for either of them? But it isn’t like he can stop now. It’s almost like an addition, a routine, something now deeply woven into both of their lives.
And Robby… alone in his cold hotel room, Dennis’ contact picture still up on his phone… Wonders, too, if he will return home, or if he will lose himself on the road like he planned, fading away one day. But he can almost picture it. Coming home, Dennis waiting for him, wearing one of his shirts, standing in the doorway. It makes Robby’s hands shake as he turns on the shower. Maybe that isn’t so impossible.