in which you've lived in broken bow, nebraska your whole life. nothing about your small town surprised you anymore - up until one sunday, when a man in the shape of years past sits in front of you during church service.
pairing: dennis whitaker x fem!reader
warnings: religious themes/trauma, mayhaps slightly suggestive, might not be realistic cause i'm not american LOL
a/n: hello children! i lowk highk intend for this to be a series (buuuut i don't want to jinx it). i essentially just started writing shit down in my notes app and this is what came out of it .. so this is supposed to be reader's first time seeing dennis years after he left home. sorry for the long note but also! if anyone still somehow remembers me from my unfinished suna smau .. baby i'm sorry .. but tbh i might get back on that if enough people want it hah i'm eeaaasy
also also. dennis whitaker? willoughby tucker? fuuuuuuuuucdsk mama that's the same person fuaaaahuuucg ........ anyway! enjoy! i hope
the chipped, balmy wood of the pews always smelled the same. it was all the same — same hymnals, same worn leather, same congregation.
you can't remember a time before the church. even your oldest memories were tied to the wafer-thin pages of your bible, the way you knelt, the way you prayed before you slept. it's not like devoutness consumed your being, you're much more ambiguous in that sense. but it was a pillar in your life, a cornerstone.
"jesus is our foundation! the cornerstone of the church!" the preacher exclaims, full of conviction.
this snaps you out of it. how long have you been distracted? you can't recall. all you know is that the boy three pews ahead looks different.
you hadn't seen him since high school. yours was a small town in broken bow, it was hard to miss whenever a resident left.
"brethren, please turn your bibles to ephesians 2:19-22, the main verses of this afternoon service. let us begin—now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of god;"
that's the word. saints. it propels you back into daydreaming. you think, hard. about the boy—of whom would now be better addressed as a man, but it's hard to think of him as anything other than the saint you remember from your youth. he's much more subdued now, big bags under his eyes. a twinge of red. it's difficult to focus on his features when he's sitting three pews ahead, yet you persist; you don't know why you do. god surely does.
"...and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, jesus christ himself being the chief corner stone;" the congregation echoes all around you.
you absentmindedly recite along, much more focused on shooting glances at the curls in his hair, noticing how they're much longer at the nape of his neck. you're much more self-conscious now, you know that much for sure.
"...whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the lord:"
what verse were you on now? oh right, 21. you haven't even turned your bible to ephesians, settling for reading it on your neighbor's bible instead. it's not like it mattered though, the verses were already burnt into your brain.
"...in whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of god through the spirit," the preacher praises god.
you keep your eyes open during prayer. something you seldom do, not by faith, but by habit. you tilt your head down so it's less obvious that you're still observing him. he clasps his hands in prayer comfortably, he doesn't bring them all the way up to his face. they rested just in front of his pelvis, thumb soothing the back of his hand. his hands look different now, too, you note.
the rest of the service goes on this way. his presence was ever noticed, making you grow more conscious of your own. sundays were innocuous, safe. you didn't have to think much, say much; oh, but perform, you had to do. for much of the last few years, it was a place wherein you could leave your real troubles at the door. in here you could pretend.
now he's here, and forasmuch as you've observed him, you wondered if he would do the same once he saw you. you thought about yourself and how you've changed. what that would mean to him. would he think you look drastically different now? would he even recognize you at all? would it even matter to him?
when you exit the door, the misty air welcomes you, a breeze wrapping around your frame. it was cool, gentle. the sun wasn't harsh, no, it illuminated everything in a soft glow. the pitter patter of the earlier day's rain was quietly dancing on the deck. it was all so tranquil, which for a second made you forget about—
you turn around. shit, how could you forget.
"hi!" you tried to sound as normal as you could, like you didn't spend the entire service eye-fucking analyzing him.
"how have you been!" you reflexively asked. his entrance surprised you, which you cursed yourself for, knowing that among your many earlier thoughts was imagining how this conversation would go, and what things you would say.
"good," he says earnestly, accompanied by a sheepish smile. "visiting my family." he offers. swaying.
"oh, it's been a while! i haven't seen you in so long—"
he cuts you off, tries to explain, "oh yeah, it's not, like, the first time i've visited since high school ...but, i usually don't wander off from the farm when i do come."
"ah, so that's why i don't see you," a small grin starts to form on the corners of your mouth as you continue, "i've heard rumors of a dr. whitaker coming into town, but i never did see him for myself."
he looks down at the sun-bleached floorboards all shy, and huffs a breathy laugh at this comment.
he doesn't say anything for a second, and due to your panicked state, you ramble on, "you kinda became a mythical legend in my mind..." he looks up at you, "...doctor."
jesus, mary, and joseph, did you have to add that last line?
"yeah, i'm...i'm sorry i didn't reach out," he sounded so earnest. so sincere, it takes you aback.
"oh? it's okay, truly, we weren't that close!" it sounded meaner than you intented. "i just...sorry, i just mean that you don't have to feel bad.
"thank you." there he goes again. so sincere.
the two of you stand there for a few seconds, smiling at each other. a bit awkward.
in this silence, you notice that his frame is considerably larger. it was hard to tell earlier, farther away. plus it's been years since you last saw him, so obviously he looks different. but still.
"hey," his voice is soft as he calls out your name in the same tone of voice he used to. some things stay the same. you didn't even notice that you spaced out again. he looks concerned, bending down a bit and leaning closer to get your attention. your breath hitches at this. it annoys you, how attractive you find him.
"hi," you say back, abashedly. he smiles, relief washing over his face. you wonder for a second why there was such concern on his face in the first place, then you recall that he sees the worst of the worst every day in the ED. ah, no wonder.
"sorry, i'm being weird," you say.
"you're alright, i'm sorry i haven't asked you how you've been." he pauses for a moment, presumably to think, then says, "ah, so you're still active in church! how's that- how's everything?" he gestures with his left hand, retracting it back into crossed arms; eager to listen.
in all honesty, it's a loaded question. at church, at home—what a god-fearing christian you are. it's an impossible task to find someplace to be yourself in a town as small as a mustard seed. you don't know whether to be honest or not.
a skill you've honed over the years is sussing out the black sheep, the outliers. trying to find community in the conservative. but you don't take any chances, instead opting to say, "it's been good! can be a lot, sometimes. but it's definitely living."
a sham of an answer. truly. but it's a little soon to be honest, you think. you don't even know how long he's staying for, which prompts you to ask—
"i'm here for about a month, by the way." it's like he read your mind.
the "by the way" feels intentional. maybe a wish for something more. to see you again. so against your better judgment, you prod, and you ask exactly that.
"do you want to see me again, den?"
everyone in town knows "den" moreso than "dr. whitaker". he definitely hasn't been called that name in a while, given the way his ears perked up.
"yes ma'am, i do." he says with no hesitation.