boyfie things w/ frat sukuna!
- a collection of random texts and ig stories with your bf⋆˚꩜｡
(pics are random!)
🏷️ im so obsessed with making the ig stories sorry if theres 2 many😭 & sorry if its kinda ooc🥹
the minion slippers and lv sandals had me rolling on the floor im sorry
i like to think im kinda funny if u cant tell
How it feels to genuinely enjoy the Pitt and not get caught up on every little bad thing a character has done because they’re all complex human beings and none of them are truly evil like everyone in this fandom seems to think
i don’t like seeing people defend tf out of robby for how he treats samira mohan…. he’s been rude to her the whole show even though she’s an amazing doctor, all the other residents said this btw. i see he is going through something but it started WAY before that?? the whole show he has had it out for her… i saw people defending how he treats her and it’s overly weird…. ok anyways
Look Whitaker, it’s very important to have boundaries. By the way, would you like to house sit for me while I go kill myself? Your girlfriend is not welcome.
summary: you wind up in the emergency room on halloween with the hottest doctor you've ever seen treating you. dennis thanks god that he decided to pick up a shift today.
pairings: dennis whitaker x reader
cw/tags: no use of y/n, pre-relationship, broken bones, pain meds (morphine), nausea and anti-emetics (zofran). swearing, everyone in the pitt being nosey as fuck, reader is described as having cleavage and wearing heels + a teeny tiny halloween costume and makeup. mentions of drinking. inappropriate workplace conduct (when is there not in my writing) including discussion of a patient (reader) being attractive.
word count: 5.1k
masterlist
requested here and based off me breaking my own ankle on halloween this year lmao except my friends were unsuccessful in convincing me to go to the ER :)
You genuinely don’t think there’s anything more embarrassing than ending up in the emergency department after twisting your ankle in the platform heels you insisted you would be able to walk in.
Except, what is more embarrassing, is the fact that you’re not just in heels—you’re in a full-blown, tight, revealing Halloween costume. And you hadn’t even started drinking yet.
“Okay, I’m gonna’ try to find a wheelchair, just sit,” Your friend says, ducking out from under your arm, letting you rest your palm against a nearby column. Your other friend is still holding you up on the other side, one arm around your waist.
“This is stupid,” You say. “It’s not broken.”
“It might be,” Your friend says. “How would you know?”
“Because I can walk,” You counter. “Do you really think I’d be able to walk on a broken ankle?”
“You can barely walk,” She corrects. “Hence the wheelchair.”
“I don’t need the wheelchair,” You grumble, setting your injured foot down on the ground, clenching your teeth as sharp pain radiates up your leg. Your friend rolls her eyes, acting as though she didn’t notice as you shuffle away from her. “See? Walking.”
“I’ve seen babies crawl faster than that,” She says. “Just see what they say, okay? If it’s not broken then all the better.”
Your other friend comes around a corner with someone in tow, pushing a wheelchair. She’s young, wearing grey scrubs, and her hair’s pulled back into two braids with a few curls framing her face. Your friend doesn’t need to point her in the right direction, because your outfits make it more than obvious that you came together.
“This is Emma,” Your friend says. “She’s a nurse.”
“Hi, Emma,” You greet, introducing yourself to her after. She repeats your name, then gestures to the wheelchair.
“Come on, we’ll get you taken back,” She says, helping you into the chair. She lifts one of the sides up, elevating your left leg so it’s level with your hips.
“Isn’t it a really bad sign to be taken back right away in an ER?” You ask.
“Oh, no, well…sometimes,” Emma says. “But your friend was telling me how you injured your ankle, and we just want to take a quick look. Can one of you grab a clipboard from registration, please?”
Your friends nod, and one of them steps over to the line, getting left behind as you’re wheeled through the double doors.
“Who do we have here?” A blonde woman, also wearing grey, asks, coming around the desk towards you.
Emma says your name and age before continuing. “Twisting injury on an uneven curb, unable to visualize the area, her friend wasn’t sure if she hit her head when she fell—she was walking behind them.”
“I did not hit my head,” You say. “I don’t…think.”
The blonde woman, whose name tag reads ‘Dana,’ chuckles. “Alright, that’s a one way ticket to a room, sweetheart.”
“What?” You ask. “No, there has to be other people that need to be seen before I do.”
“There are,” She agrees. “Emma’ll take a look first, see what we’re working with. Sound okay?”
You nod, not really in a place to argue. Plus, you’re pretty sure Dana isn’t exactly the type to lose a fight.
“Take her to four,” Dana instructs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Emma nods, pushing you towards the right place. It’s not exactly a room, just a bed surrounded by curtains. She helps you onto the bed, sitting the back up so you can lean against it.
“Can you tell me your full name?” Emma asks, which you do. “What about the date?”
“October thirty-first, twenty-twenty five,” You answer.
“Do you know where you are?”
“PTMC,” You say, rolling your eyes when your friend gives you a thumbs up.
“Do you remember falling?” She continues, hands hovering over your boot, trying to figure out if she can get it off without hurting you further or using scissors.
“Yeah, I mean, mostly,” You say.
She nods, coming back over to you, pulling something out of her pocket. “I’m just gonna’ shine something in your eyes, okay? Look straight ahead.”
You listen, doing your best not to flinch when the light hits your eye. She tucks it away, setting two fingers in both of your hands.
“Squeeze my fingers,” She instructs. “Does your head hurt? Any nausea?”
You shrug. “A little nausea.”
“How’s it going in here?” Dana asks, pulling the curtain aside as she comes in, closing it behind her.
“Pupils equal and reactive, normal motor function, minor nausea,” Emma explains. “I was just about to try and take her boots off.”
Dana hums. “They’re tight, might have to cut the left one off.”
You gasp. “What? No, they were expensive. I can do it.”
“We don’t want anything making it worse, hon,” Dana says, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Give it a shot, see what we’re working with.”
Emma nods, fingers careful as she unzips the boot as far as she can, pulling the edges back. She frowns once she can actually see your ankle, which is already swollen and likely starting to bruise.
“Let me know if it hurts, okay?” She says, and you nod, ready to brave through any pain just so they won’t cut it off. She braces the bottom of your foot, up by your toes, then starts to slide the back half off your heel. All plans to suck it up go out the window the second it starts to move.
“Ow, fuck, sorry,” You say, face wrenched with pain, hands curled into the mattress. She stops immediately, glancing at Dana, who takes her place. Emma continues bracing, and Dana actually manages to move it a smidge more before the searing pain returns.
“No, no, just cut it, please,” You say. “I should’ve listened in the first place.”
“I liked the optimism,” Dana says, carefully setting your foot back on the bed. Emma grabs a pair of scissors from a drawer, slicing across the material, each snip ringing out in the quiet room. They peel the remains off, then your sock, revealing the injury in it’s entirety.
“Should’ve painted your toenails,” Your friend says.
You laugh, then wince when your foot shifts. “Didn’t know they’d be on display.”
“I’m gonna’ touch a few spots, let me know if it hurts,” Emma says, raising a gloved finger to your ankle, pressing lightly. You groan, clutching the sheets. Every spot hurts, two of them more than the others, and then she grips slightly higher on your calf, squeezing.
“Jesus christ,” You grunt, leaning forward, a wave of nausea hitting with the pain. Your face twists, and Emma lets go.
“Sorry, sorry,” She says. “You okay?”
You give a thumbs up, slightly hunched, taking deep breaths.
“Still confident it’s not broken?” Your friend asks.
You manage to say the name of your other friend, followed by ‘go find her.’ She listens, leaving you alone with the two nurses. The pain subsides after a few moments, and you sit back up, exhaling.
“Please tell me we won’t have to do that again,” You say.
“Hopefully not,” Dana promises. “You definitely need an x-ray, and let someone know if your nausea gets worse, alright? Emma’s gonna’ set you up with some ice and an IV, and I’m gonna’ go find someone to sign off on pain meds.”
“Okay, sounds good,” You say. “Thank you.”
Princess is standing outside your room, hidden by the curtain, leaning against the wall. Dana raises an eyebrow as she comes out, gesturing for her to go ahead with whatever she wants to say.
“She’s gorgeous,” Princess says, keeping her voice down. “Is she a model?”
“Not sure,” Dana says, scanning the department, trying to find a free doctor. “Could be.”
“What’s she here for?”
“Broken ankle,” She says, finally seeing Dennis come out of a room, calling his name before he can take a seat at one of the computers. “Need you for a minute.”
She meets him halfway, grabbing a tablet from the stand, pulling up your chart and passing it to him.
“Twisted her ankle, bimalleolar tenderness, positive squeeze test,” She explains. “She needs some pain meds, x-ray’s already been ordered.”
He nods, looking at your name in the top left corner. “I’ll take a look in a minute.”
“Thank you,” She says, patting his shoulder as she walks off. Princess steps in front of Dennis, wiggling her eyebrows.
“What?” He asks, wearily.
“She’s pretty,” She says.
“Who?”
“Your new patient,” Princess clarifies. “Thought you might want a heads up.”
Dennis huffs, nodding, stepping around her. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Emma stays with you after Dana leaves. “You want a blanket?”
You glance down at your outfit, then towards the now open curtain. “Yes, please.”
She grabs one, draping it over you, leaving your arm exposed. She sets up your vitals, then gets the IV first try, hanging a bag of fluids on the nearby hook.
“How’s your nausea?” She asks. “Any worse?”
You think for a second. “A little worse, but still okay.”
The curtain is pulled back again, revealing a man in black scrubs with blonde curls and blue eyes. Emma gives him a small smile, stepping away from your bed so she doesn’t get in the way. You feel your heart start to race, hoping that he doesn’t notice on the screen displaying your pulse behind you. He says your name as he walks in, and then he pauses for a fraction of a second.
‘Pretty’ is an understatement. You’re stunning.
He has to make a conscious effort not to look at your chest, which is exposed in the tiny costume you’re wearing, but he recovers quickly, tapping his badge against the sensor at the computer.
“I’m Dr. Whitaker,” He introduces. “I hear we’ve got quite the ankle injury.”
“You could say that,” You say, grimacing as you shift up on the bed, trying to get comfortable. He scans your triage note, then looks at Emma.
“Neuro exam okay?” He asks, and she nods.
“Completely normal besides a little nausea,” She explains.
“No headache or dizziness?” He confirms, the question now directed at you. You shake your head. “Have you had any alcohol today?”
“No,” You say. “Didn’t exactly get that far.”
There’s a pause before you speak again, only filled by the sound of him typing.
“Why, are you offering?”
Emma averts her eyes, grabbing a new pair of gloves, trying to seem busy. Dennis pauses, keeping his head forward, hoping that his cheeks and ears haven’t gone as red as they feel. Langdon can’t help but glance in as he passes by, having overheard the comment. His eyes widen when he sees you, and he quickly moves on to his patient’s room.
“They already made last call,” Dennis says, trying to joke a little. “Best I can do is some pain meds.”
“Damn, I was hoping not all my Halloween plans were ruined,” You say. “But I’ll definitely take pain meds.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” He says, offering you a quick, small smile. “Do you have any drug allergies or kidney problems?”
“Nope.”
He nods, stepping back from the computer, looking at Emma. “Two of morphine, twenty of ketorolac. Let’s keep her NPO for now.”
“Yeah, on it.”
She leaves the room. Dennis gestures to your leg, which is under the blanket.
“Mind if I take a look?” He asks.
You smirk, your eyebrows raising suggestively. “Please.”
He swallows, trying to get his heart to stop pounding. There’s no way you’re flirting with him, right?
He lifts the blanket up, folding it back and setting it on your thighs. He avoids touching the pressure points, knowing how painful it would’ve been the first time, instead holding just below your knee as he tilts your leg to either side. It doesn’t matter though—you still wince, inhaling sharply.
“Sorry,” He says, softly, trying to move slower. The bruising is bad, but the swelling is worse now that your boot has been off for a bit.
“Tripped on a curb, hey?” He asks, putting the blanket back over once he’s done.
You groan, leaning back against the bed. “Yeah, like an idiot.”
“Happens to the best of us,” He says, pulling a stool over, sitting down. He points to where your boots are sitting on the floor. “Those the heels?”
“Sure are,” You say. “What’s left of them, anyway.”
He leans over, getting a closer look, seeing how the left one has been completely mangled. He also sees how tall they are, and he clenches his jaw, trying not to think about how good they must've looked when they were on.
“At least you’re having a better day than they are,” He says.
You laugh. “Yeah, just wish I could’ve actually gotten some use out of them. They really tied the whole costume together.”
“What was the costume?” He asks, looking you over, having a few guesses in mind, but not wanting to be wrong.
“It makes more sense when my friends are with me,” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, folding your arms over your chest, exposing more of your cleavage. “You know the game ‘fuck, marry, kill?’”
“Uh, yeah, yes,” He says, stuttering.
“We’re that,” You say. “You wanna’ guess which one I am?”
He blinks.
“I probably shouldn’t,” He says, but he knows the answer. Your costume is blood red, and you have lipstick marks trailing up your neck and on your cheeks. He doesn’t want to think about who put them on you.
You hum. “Then I guess you’ll live in mystery.”
He looks back at you, crossing his arms, trying to move on without showing how flustered you've made him. “Emma should be back with those meds soon, and then we’ll reassess once you get some imaging done. Sound okay?”
“As long as you come back,” You say, not missing a beat. He laughs a little, bringing one hand up to the back of his neck.
“I will,” He says, checking his watch. “Still got an hour left, and x-ray should be here any minute.”
“Looking forward to it, Dr. Whitaker.”
Dana overhears that, making her smirk, especially when Dennis comes out of your room a second later, redder than she’s ever seen him. He clears his throat as he walks over, stopping on the other side of the desk.
“She’s all good for now,” He says. “Got her some pain meds, let me know when the films are up.”
“Will do,” She says. “You alright? You’re a little flushed, kid.”
He nods, clearing his throat again, already walking away to avoid further questions. She laughs to herself, shaking her head. Princess leans over from her spot.
“I tried to warn him,” She says.
“About what?” Dana asks.
“That she was pretty,” Princess says.
Dana scoffs, still smiling. “I don’t think that was the issue.”
“Oh?”
“She was flirting with him,” Dana says. “Said she was ‘looking forward’ to him coming back once her x-rays were done.”
“No!” Princess exclaims, making eye contact with Perlah, who’s now listening intently. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” Dana confirms. “Can you grab repeat vitals for twelve?”
“Okay, pain meds are in, and x-ray is on their way,” Emma says, standing beside you, a new pair of gloves on now that she’s finished administering the medication. “You’ll have to change into a gown, do you want help?”
You don’t, but you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to do it on your own.
“Please,” You say, an apologetic look on your face. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Emma asks, incredulous. “Trust me, you are, like, the easiest patient I’ve had all day.”
She closes the curtain before helping you, folding the tiny two-piece set that you were wearing and placing it in a large bag. She puts your boots in there too, despite the fact that one of them is in multiple pieces.
The curtain opens again, making both of you look up. The person looks up from her tablet, stopping in her tracks, eyes widening.
“You are not my patient,” She says, glancing at the tablet again, eyes narrowing. “Ah, they moved him to fifteen. Sorry for barging in.”
“No problem,” You say. “Hope you find your patient.”
“Thanks,” She says. “Everything good in here, Emma?”
“Yep, just waiting on x-ray,” She says. “Thanks, Dr. Santos.”
She nods, then turns around, speed-walking away from your room. Once she’s done with her real patient she practically tosses her tablet onto a desk as she walks by, coming up behind Victoria and grabbing her arm.
“Have you seen the patient in four?” She asks.
“Uhm, no, why?” She questions, still walking, despite the hold that Trinity has on her.
“She might be the hottest person I’ve ever seen in my life,” Trinity says. Victoria laughs in disbelief, stopping at a computer, pressing her badge to the scanner.
“What?” She questions. “That’s…not professional.”
“I didn’t say it to her face,” Trinity counters. “Go look, tell me you don’t agree.”
“I’m busy!” Victoria exclaims, pulling up a chart. “What’s she here for?”
“I dunno’, she’s not my patient. Check.”
Victoria scrolls through the dashboard until she sees your bed number, scanning across to the chief complaint. “LEI.”
Trinity laughs a little. “Probably had a bit too much to drink.”
“Who are we talking about?” Dennis asks, logging on to a nearby computer.
“Patient in four,” Trinity says.
“Oh, she’s mine,” He says. “X-ray just came back, did you see her?”
“Did she ever,” Victoria mumbles.
“Briefly,” Trinity says. “You talked to her already?”
“Uh, yeah,” He says, bringing your chart up. “Why?”
“No reason.”
“Santos thinks she’s hot,” Victoria says, earning a glare from the resident. “Do you agree?”
Dennis frowns, pulling up your x-ray, not actually looking at it yet. “She’s a patient.”
“Oh, come on, she’ll never know,” Trinity says.
He shrugs, fiddling with the mouse. “It doesn’t matter—she’s a patient.”
“Okay, I need to see for myself,” Victoria decides, walking away from them. She slows down once she’s outside of your room, looking through the gap between the curtain and the wall. She continues on after a moment, then loops around, coming back over.
“Oh my god,” She says.
“Right?” Trinity says. “She’s insane.”
“That’s…that’s ridiculous,” Victoria says. “Wow.”
Dennis shakes his head, returning his attention to your images. He sucks in through his teeth, almost wincing at the sight. Trinity looks over, grimacing.
“Oh, ouch,” She says. “That’s rough.”
Robby stops as he walks by, eyes narrowing, automatically reaching up to put his glasses on.
“Bimalleolar fracture,” He comments. “Who’s this for?”
“Four,” Dennis answers. “Tripped on a curb in heels.”
“Tell me someone’s given her some pain meds,” Robby says.
“Yeah, I ordered two of morphine and twenty of ketorolac,” He says. “Almost an hour ago.”
“What’s your plan?” Robby asks, leaning back, putting his glasses in his pocket.
“A splint, page ortho,” He answers. “More meds.”
Robby nods, giving him the permission he needs to log off and head towards your room. He can’t hear anything as he walks over, and he pulls the curtain back to reveal Emma standing at the computer, and you—
Well, you’re still stunning—despite the hospital gown and half-lidded eyes. You’re slightly curled onto your right side, both hands tucked beneath your head. Your makeup is still sharp, eyelashes coated in mascara and a wing of eyeliner flicking out towards your temple. Your eyelids are glittery, and, even though you’ve been laying in a hospital bed for an hour, your hair looks amazing.
Dennis says your name, making you fully open your eyes, turning towards him.
“Hey,” He says. “How’re you doing?”
You blink a few times, sitting up. Emma comes over to adjust your bed.
“I’m okay,” You say, voice slightly rasped. He sees the way you wince when you move, and how your face is tight with discomfort.
“How’s your pain, scale of one to ten?” He asks, sitting on the stool beside your bed. “One being barely noticeable, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt.”
You shrug. “Uhm, maybe a five? Six?”
He frowns. “Still hurts pretty bad, huh?”
You swallow, blinking a few times, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Any changes since I’ve been gone?” He asks. “Dizziness, more nausea, confusion?”
“Still a little nauseous, maybe?” You say, finding yourself not wanting to admit that to your unreasonably attractive physician. “But it’s better now that you’re back.”
“Oh, uh, well, that’s great,” He says, tripping over the words. Emma looks out of your room, noticing a few people congregating by the desk across the department, watching the interaction closely. Princess and Perlah are murmuring to each other, whereas Jesse and Frank are just staring as Dennis’ face starts to burn again. “I can give you an anti-nausea medication too.”
“Can’t you just stay?” You ask. “I really feel a lot better when you’re around, Dr. Whitaker.”
Emma bites her lips, looking down at the floor, mumbling something about another patient before walking away. Dennis opens his mouth, then closes it, trying to think of what he could possibly say right now.
“I, uhm, I would if I could,” He finally says. “But you’re here on one of our busiest days of the year, so-”
“Right, everyone seems very busy,” You interrupt, gesturing to the group staring at the two of you. He turns around, watching them scatter like animals the second his eyes are on them, desperately searching for a task to do. Dennis hums, nodding.
“They might not be, but I have other patients,” He says.
You put on an exaggerated frown. “Consider me jealous.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Trust me, you have no reason to be jealous.”
You cock your head to the side, already starting to grin, eyebrows raising. He realizes how that sounds, and even though it’s true, that’s not exactly what he meant.
“Because some of them are a lot worse off than you,” He clarifies, and he hears someone laugh at the terrible excuse for his accidental flirting as they walk by. “I am gonna’ have Emma give you some more pain meds and some Zofran, which will help with the nausea, uh…until I get back.”
“Thank you,” You say, slightly more serious now. “See you soon?”
He nods. “Yeah, of course.”
Perlah grins when he gets back to the hub. “She’s laying it on pretty thick, huh?”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” He counters. “She’s just nice.”
“That’s not what nice sounds like,” Frank adds. “She’s into you, man.”
Dennis logs on to one of the computers, inputting your new orders. “I mean, even if she was, she’s a patient, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Won’t be your patient forever,” Princess says. “And she’s been flirting since before you gave her any meds, so, not like she wasn’t in a sound state.”
“Who’s flirting?” Robby questions, and everyone goes silent, averting their eyes.
“No one,” Dennis says, forcing a smile onto his face.
“The patient in four is super into Huckleberry,” Trinity says, making Robby raise an eyebrow, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his pocket.
You lose track of how many people ‘walk’ past your room over the next ten minutes. Some of them are genuinely just moving by, not even glancing in your general direction, usually holding a tablet or medications of some kind. Others are obviously slowing down, looking at you for a second, a few even doing a double or triple take. Dana comes over and pulls your curtain closed, giving you a smile as she does. You hear her say something along the lines of ‘this isn’t a zoo’ as she walks away, which makes you laugh to yourself.
“He’s still red,” Someone says from somewhere outside. “She’s killing him.”
“I’d be red too if she was talking to me like that,” Another one says. “How long before he comes up with an excuse to talk to her again, ‘you think?”
“Ten minutes, tops,” The original voice says.
“She knows exactly what she’s doing,” A third person adds. “But she seems sweet.”
“She’s so sweet,” Emma agrees, finally someone you recognize. “Keeps apologizing for everything, I wish all my patients were like her.”
“Those for her?” The second voice asks, and you assume Emma nods before walking towards your room.
Her face pops up a moment later, a sweet smile on her face, which you return. “Hey, how’s it going in here?”
“Good, minus the pain,” You say.
“This should help,” She says, holding up the vials in her hands before setting them down on a tray, pulling a pair of gloves on. “More morphine, and some Zofran for the nausea. Dr. Whitaker should be in to talk about your x-ray soon.”
“Is it bad?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
She gives you another smile, inserting the first medication into your IV bag. “He’ll go over everything once he’s got a second.”
He comes back once his face is no longer obviously red.
“I took a look at your x-rays,” He says. “You did a number on your ankle.”
You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, figured as much when I got morphine within ten minutes of showing up.”
“That’s usually not a great sign, unfortunately,” He confirms. “You came in with some friends?”
“Oh, yeah, but I told them to go,” You explain. “We were on our way to meet up with some other people, figured there was no need for them to miss out.”
He hums. “Very generous.”
“What can I say?” You tease, leaning back, closing your eyes for a second. “Not as generous as you, I’m sure, but I do my best.”
“What makes you say that?” He asks, smiling.
You scoff, incredulous. “You’re working in an emergency room on Halloween, feels pretty generous to me.”
He sets his hands on the guardrail on the side of your bed, leaning over a bit. “Do I get extra points since I wasn’t actually scheduled today?”
“Maybe,” You say. “Then why are you here?”
“One of my colleagues asked to swap,” He explains. “Wanted to hangout with her sister tonight.”
“Very noble,” You say. “Definitely worthy of extra points—not that you needed them, though.”
He smiles a bit. “Good to know.”
He lets you know that you’ll probably need surgery, but that ortho will have to come down and check it out, which might be awhile. In the meantime, they’ll try and keep your pain managed and set you up with a splint. Emma comes back when your IV pump starts to beep, adjusting a few things to fix it.
“Is there someone I can call?” Dennis asks. “To come keep you company?”
“No, uh, I’m good,” You say, checking your phone quickly. “Your shift’s over, right?”
He smiles, not believing that you actually remembered that.
“Yeah, technically,” He says. “Do you need anything else?”
“I don’t wanna’ keep you,” You say, but you definitely don’t mean it. “I’m sure whoever’s here to take your place won’t let me die.”
He laughs a little. “I would hope not.”
“Probably won’t be as handsome, though,” You say. Dennis blinks, the comment cementing the fact that you have been flirting, and he stutters for a second. Luckily, Emma steps in for him, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Between us,” She says. “The night shift is a pretty attractive crew, he’s got some competition.”
That makes you smile, genuinely, and Dennis honestly feels like he might pass out with how fast his heart is beating.
“Where’s Whitaker?” Jack asks, taking in the group by the desk, eager to go through handover and get home. Robby looks around, not seeing him.
“He went to see a patient a few minutes ago,” He says. “He’s probably still in there.”
“Which room?”
“Four, I think,” Robby says. Princess and Perlah turn to eachother, saying something in Tagalog. Trinity nudges Victoria, and Dana smiles.
“I don’t know if you’d be able to pry that case from his cold, dead hands,” Dana says.
“What?” Jack asks. “Why?”
“She’s been flirting with him since she got here,” Frank says.
“That so?” Jack questions, turning towards the room, seeing the curtain completely drawn, blocking you and him from view. “You think he’s interested?”
“I think anyone would be interested,” Trinity says. Jack raises an eyebrow, and she shrugs. “See for yourself.”
He chuckles, grabbing a tablet and walking over to the curtain, adjusting his stethoscope around his neck.
“Knock knock,” He says, seeing Whitaker still beside you, and Emma adjusting your IV. You look up, but your eyes are hazy from the morphine, a small smile on your face. Dennis sits up straighter, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m Dr. Abbot, you can call me Jack. I’ll be taking over for Dr. Whitaker here. Catch me up?”
Dennis says your full name and age. “Bimalleolar fractures to the left ankle from a twisting injury, waiting for ortho consult. Pain was a six out of ten about fifteen minutes ago, gave two more of morphine and four of Zofran for nausea.”
“Perfect,” Jack says. “How’s your pain now?”
“Better,” You say. “A three, maybe.”
“And the nausea?”
You raise a hand, tilting it from side to side, clearly a little out of it now that there’s more morphine in your system. “Not great.”
Jack smiles, understanding why anyone would be interested in you.
“We’ll see what we can do about that,” He says. “Ready to finish up, Whitaker?”
“Uh, yeah, absolutely,” Dennis says.
“Wait,” You say, eyes widening. “Does that mean it’s no longer…unethical for him to go on a date with me?”
Emma smiles, and Jack looks to Dennis, amused. He turns to you, patting the guardrail beside you.
“You’re on a lot of meds right now,” He says, gently. “Probably not the best time to make a decision like that.”
You squint, his words sort of a rejection, but his tone suggesting that it wasn’t one.
“Tell you what,” Jack says, gaining both your attention. “If you’re still interested by the time those meds ease up, and once you’re no longer a patient of ours…I’ll pass the message along.”
Dennis’ face is a combination of grateful and mortified.
“I’ll be interested, don’t worry,” You say, leaning back into the mattress. “Hopefully I’ll see you again, Dr. Whitaker.”
“Dennis,” He corrects.
You smile, nodding, watching as he goes to leave. You call his name after a moment, making him turn around again.
"There's no competition, by the way," You say, subtly glancing towards Jack. He raps his knuckles against the wall of your room, nodding before actually leaving.
Jack gives him your number two days later.
A/N - this is scheduled so if u see it right away im not actually here...i took an insane exam today, my ex texted me yesterday and now i’m going on a first date with someone in an hour help me. talk to u all later thank u for reading <3
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