Part Two: A Second Chance
Pairing: Dennis Whitaker x F!Reader
Summary: A week after your less-than-ideal encounter with Dennis, you find yourself in his presence again. This time, however, you're his patient.
Contains: Mentions of blood, injuries, stitches, and needles, swearing, fluff, Trinity being Trinity, Dennis and Reader being down bad for each other
A/N: Sorry this took so long—I rewrote the dialogues at least five times. Thank you for all the kind words on the first part!
It’s been a week since you met Dennis at the grocery store, and you’ve thought about him more often than you’d like to admit.
You have tried looking for him online, but with no last name or profession, your searches have been fruitless.
Today, you’re sitting in the waiting room for the PTMC Emergency Department with a blood-soaked dish towel wrapped around your hand. After an accident while cooking, you’ve ended up with a deep slice in your palm.
The room is hot and crowded with patients growing irritated. A small television in a corner plays the news, which is running a segment on the recent structure collapse at a waterpark nearby.
You overhear from a conversation between other patients that one woman had the bottom half of one of her legs completely severed.
You fan yourself with the intake folder you were given upon checking in, holding pressure on your wounded hand to stop the bleeding.
There isn’t much to do besides scroll through your phone. You open Instagram.
The little voice in your head says to try looking for Dennis again. You can’t help it.
Maybe this time will be different.
Unfortunately, this time is just as unsuccessful as your previous attempts. Disappointment pains your chest, just as strong as it was the day you met.
Still searching for him is creepy, you tell yourself.
It wasn’t meant to be, and that’s okay. I just need to move on.
You sigh, then turn your phone off and lay it face down on your lap.
You sit in silence, eavesdropping on the various conversations happening around you:
The woman behind the glass who checked you in talking to a patient about insurance coverage.
The mother sitting across from you with her son, talking on the phone about how he shoved a rock up one of his nostrils.
The two patients standing by one of the walls complaining about how the waiting room needs more chairs and better air conditioning.
Now that is something you can agree with.
Your name is soon called. The double doors to the ER open, and there is a nurse waiting for you.
“Hi. I’m Perlah and I’m going to be your nurse today,” she tells you. Her demeanor is kind and calm, allowing you to briefly forget about your injury.
She leads you to a room with a large glass door, and closes it behind you. You sit down on the hospital bed. She begins taking your vitals.
“Okay. Temperature, blood pressure, and pulse ox all look good. l’ll go ahead and put these in your chart and I’ll be back with a doctor soon.”
“There’s a patient in North 6 with a hand lac who’s ready for a doctor,” Perlah says, standing in front of where Dennis, Trinity, and Samira are charting.
“I got it. Just give me a second.” He shoves the last bit of his protein bar into his mouth before picking his stethoscope up from his desk and placing it around his neck.
A quick knock raps on the glass door to your room.
Perlah walks in with a familiar face following close behind.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Whit—,” he begins, looking down at his tablet.
Perlah glances between the two of you.
“Do you two know each other?”
“We just met last week,” you tell her. “It’s a bit of a funny story.” Dennis’ cheeks start to redden as he remembers the incident.
Get it together, he thinks.
“Right,” he gloves up. “Let’s see what we have here.” He steps towards you and begins to unwrap your hand.
“I was cutting up some vegetables and the knife slipped out of my hand. I went to catch it without thinking, and, well…” you trail off.
He gently examines your hand.
“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”
You move your fingers around and wince at the pain.
“Great. No injury to any ligaments, so you won’t need surgery,” he states.
“The bleeding has mostly stopped which means you didn’t cut an artery.”
“Thank God,” you breathe.
“You’re definitely gonna need some stitches, though.”
“Can you get me 200 milligrams of lidocaine and a suture tray?”
She nods. “Do you want me to do the stitches?”
“No, it’s alright. I can do this one.”
“How’ve you been? Minus the injury, of course,” he asks you.
“Good. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to end up here today, but I guess the universe wants to keep me on my toes.”
“Busy. I could definitely use a vacation.” His tone is light, but you can tell there is truth to it.
“I can’t even begin to imagine the stuff you must see every day,” you say.
“It can be a lot, but I love helping people.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only been your patient for a few minutes and I can already tell you’re good at what you do.”
Perlah soon returns with a syringe and cart of suture supplies.
“Alright,” Dennis says looking up at you. “I’m gonna give you a shot to numb the area so you won’t feel the stitches. You’re gonna feel a pin prick and some burning.” You nod and turn your head away.
“Absolutely not,” you say.
“It’ll be quick. I promise,” he assures.
He holds your injured hand in place and administers the shot. You wince at the pain.
The burning is intense but short-lived.
He begins the suturing. You—thankfully—can’t feel the needle entering your skin.
Neither of you say a word, letting the sounds of the hospital surround you. On the outside, he looks as if he is concentrated on what he’s doing, but his mind is swarming with thoughts.
Out of every patient he could have, it’s you.
The woman he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about.
The woman he made himself look like a complete fool in front of.
The woman he has tried looking for online, but can never find.
Your mind is doing something similar.
Out of every doctor you could have possibly had, it’s Dennis.
The guy you can’t stop thinking about.
The guy who you searched for multiple times with no luck.
The guy who… has a girlfriend.
You push those thoughts down.
At some point, you gain the confidence to look down at your hand as he works. He makes intricate knots with the thread as he weaves through the edges of your cut.
"How long did it take you to get stitches right?”
The sound of your voice makes him look up.
"It took a while. I won’t lie,” he admits.
"Could've fooled me. You seem like a pro at this." He gives an awkward smile.
"Thank you. It’s a lot of practice.” He takes a breath. “You're doing great, by the way," he encourages.
He finishes the stitches and bandages you up after a few more minutes.
He scoots back. You breathe a sigh of relief.
“You need to keep it dry for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. After that, wash it gently with some mild soap three times a day.”
You nod as he continues, taking in all the information he gives.
“I’m gonna go grab your discharge papers. It’ll have all the wound aftercare instructions on it if you forget anything.”
“Thank you, Dr. Whitaker.”
Dennis leaves the room, a blush spreading on his face from your comment. As he walks towards the nurses station, he sees Perlah, Princess, and Trinity speaking Tagalog in hushed voices.
He’s able to determine that the conversation is about him when Trinity glances over at him and Princess and Perlah look down and act like they’re working.
“Seems like we're the ones who should be asking that question, Huckleberry. You’re giving that patient some extra special attention,” Trinity prompts.
Might as well bite the bullet.
He motions for her to follow him and he leads her away to a more secluded spot.
“Do you remember that woman I met at the store last week?”
“You mean the one you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of? Yeah, I remember you mentioning it once or twice,” she states with sarcasm.
He stays silent, giving her a moment to connect the dots.
“You’re gonna man up and ask for her number this time, right?”
“I can’t do that. She’s my patient.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Seriously, Huckleberry? You talked about her for days. Just ask for her fucking number.” He doesn’t say anything.
“Fine. I'll just do it for you.”
With that, Trinity spins on her heel and starts to walk towards the room you’re in. Dennis reaches his arms out to stop her.
“Okay! Okay, I’ll ask her. Please don’t get involved. I don’t need her thinking I’m a creep or... something.”
The two of them walk back towards the nurses station and Dennis prints your discharge papers.
Once he leaves, Trinity turns to the two nurses.
“Looks like Huckleberry’s got a girlfriend”, she whispers.
“Alright, ladies, enough of the gossip,” Dana tells them. “Let’s get back to work. This is a hospital.”
She would never say it out loud, but Dana can’t help but be curious at the fact that their farm boy might have a love interest.
When Dennis returns to your room, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Okay, you’re all set,” he says.
There’s a hint of something in his voice, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Disappointment, maybe?
“Thank you for helping me, Den—Dr. Whitaker,” you correct yourself.
“You can just call me Dennis. And you don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”
“Which is exactly why I’m thanking you. Your job is literally saving people’s lives.”
“That is true… it just feels kinda strange to hear, you know?”
“I understand, but you deserve to hear it.”
Your words make a burst of warmth fill his chest.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” he says. “Not that I wanted you to get hurt or anything—it’s just that I was hoping I’d see you again.”
“Honestly, after the other night, I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he looks down at his feet, not wanting to see your reaction.
“Really?” There’s something in your voice—hope?
“I’m sorry if I overstepped by saying that. I totally understand if—”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” you admit. “I really wanted to ask for your number, but then you got that phone call.”
“Oh—that was just my friend. It’s not like that at all, I swear. I was at the store picking stuff up for her since she was sick.”
He doesn’t have a girlfriend.
It feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulders.
You let out a laugh of disbelief.
“I thought you had a girlfriend this whole time.”
“Nope, but,” he hesitates. “I was hoping I would soon. That is, if you’d like to go out sometime?”
“Yes,” leaves your mouth almost too fast. You turn to grab your phone off the bed.
“Here.” You give Dennis your unlocked phone.
He makes a contact for himself:
You smile at his added embellishment.
Suddenly, his pager buzzes.
“Yeah?” There’s a pause. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
Neither of you want to leave.
“At least let me walk you to the doors,” he says.
Once you reach the double doors that lead to the waiting room, you stop.
“Thank you again. You might just be the best doctor I’ve ever had.”
“And you might just be the best patient I’ve ever had.”
He opens one of the doors and you bid each other goodbye.
You leave the hospital, injury completely forgotten, one thought going through your head:
I cannot believe that just happened.
You and Dennis have found each other once again, and this time, you didn’t let him get away.
Dennis makes his way back to the hub, where an incoming trauma is coming through the ambulance bay.
“Whitaker, Santos, Mohan—you’re with me,” Dr. Al-Hashimi calls out.
Trinity stands across from him at the gurney. She looks at him expectantly, wanting to know the outcome.
He gives one solid nod while they make their way into a trauma bay. She smirks.
It’s almost 9 P.M. when Dennis and Trinity arrive home.
Disappointment burns in his chest.
He gets in the shower, washing the smell of blood and hand sanitizer off of his body.
He immediately checks his phone as soon as he steps out. To his surprise a text notification pops up from an unknown number:
Another A/N: Ngl, I hate the last bit of this, but I think it's the best it's gonna get. Thank you for reading! <333
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
areudirty
ellievsbear
amandla
