Roommates - Trinity Santos & Dennis Whitaker (2.1k words)
Trinity Santos and Dennis Whitaker spend their first day together as roommates. Trinity is guarded and unsure at first, but Dennis breaks her walls down little by little.
(I was very unsure how to end this fic, so apologies if the ending seems a bit boring!)
Trinity found herself walking to her car after her first shift with Whitaker of all people. She had found him living in the hospital, and it just broke her heart to see someone so kind live like that. They hadn’t become best friends or anything over the course of one shift, but she could tell how much the guy cared for others and she couldn’t just leave him there.
The two of them got into the car and Trinity started driving. It was quiet and awkward with just the hum of the engine and the radio playing a quiet song. Neither of them knew what to say, so they sat in silence for most of the drive. Neither of them were in the mood to talk anyway. The day had been too long and too exhausting. Both of them were just drained and needed to sleep.
The whole drive, Trinity thought about how crazy it was that she just offered Whitaker to move in with her. She had only known the guy one day, she didn’t really know him. He could be anybody. He killed a rat with his bare hands! She had no reason to doubt his character other than that, though. Trusting people just never came easy to her. She tried to silence her thoughts and remind herself that this was the guy that put everything he had into saving people all day, even after being treated like (and covered in) shit. He was probably harmless.
They pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, and just as Trinity was about to turn off the car, she stopped and looked at Whitaker. She was terrified to let this man into her home, but she made a commitment to do him this favor and she wasn’t going to back out now.
“Before we go in, I just want to lay out a few ground rules.” Dennis nodded in response. He would do literally anything she said—anything—as long as it meant he didn’t have to spend another night in an empty hospital room.
“Alright, well, basic rules: don’t be too messy or loud or whatever. You can borrow whatever you want, just please ask first. And no going into my room unless I tell you to. That one’s really important, I appreciate my space. We good?”
Dennis immediately agreed, grateful that the rules were simple enough. Trinity got out of the car and Dennis followed closely behind as they walked up the stairs to the apartment. Trinity opened the door and turned on the light. In front of the door was a living room with a couch facing a TV, and behind it a small kitchen with a bar that looked into the living room. To the right was a little hall with two doors facing each other, the left being Trinity’s room and the right the bathroom. It was small and bare, but it was good enough. Just somewhere to sleep and eat.
“There isn’t a second bedroom or anything, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”
Trinity felt bad about it, but Whitaker didn’t seem to mind. “No problem,” he replied. He was just happy to have somewhere to stay. What he was most excited for was the shower, and let’s be honest, he really needed one after having every liquid in existence spill on him. He set his stuff down and went into the bathroom, immediately getting into the shower, and Trinity walked into her room.
She began to take off her scrubs before hesitating, turning to lock the door to her room just in case. She felt bad being so distrustful and anxious around Whitaker. He hadn’t done anything wrong or made it seem like he was a creep, Santos had just had too many experiences of people taking advantage of her. She couldn’t risk it. She finally changed out of her scrubs into a comfy pair of pajamas and flopped onto her bed. God, it had been a long day. She didn’t expect it to be so tiring, and depressing. From reporting her superior for stealing, to the suicide patient, to the pedophile dad, to the dozens of shooting victims, the day had been far from good. All Santos hoped was that she had helped someone—truly helped them. She opened up about herself twice and said things she had never dared to say out loud before, it had to have been worth it. All of the bad in her life had to do some good, right? It didn’t matter, the day was done and now she could rest.
Just as she closed her eyes, there was a knock at the door. She groaned as she walked up and opened the door. Dennis was on the other side in an old beat up shirt and pants with a ridiculous amount of holes and stains, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m sorry, you look fucking ridiculous,” she said barely able to contain her laughs. Dennis looked down confused and offended. “What? What’s wrong with my clothes?”
”What’s not wrong with them? Come in, I’ll give you something better to wear. We can go shopping soon so you don’t have to borrow my clothes forever.”
Whitaker hesitated before stepping through the doorway, but Trinity insisted so he stepped in and gladly accepted the sweatpants and hoodie she offered him before asking for a pillow to go with his makeshift bed. Whitaker went back into the bathroom to change, and Trinity put a blanket and pillow on the couch for him before going back into her room to finally rest.
The next morning, Trinity shot up to what sounded like shattering of glass. Panicked, she looked around and saw her empty room with the sun peaking through the curtains. She quickly remembered the previous night and let out a sigh of relief when she remembered that the sound was likely just her new roommate.
Trinity walked out of her room into the kitchen to find Dennis cleaning up a broken glass. He turned around startled when he heard footsteps approaching, and he turned bright red with embarrassment when he made eye contact with Santos.
”I’m sorry! I was trying to be nice by making you breakfast, but I broke a cup! It was an accident, it won’t happen again,” he apologized frantically.
“Calm down, Huckleberry,” Trinity said, chuckling. “You’re all good. And I appreciate you making breakfast, you didn’t have to do that.”
Whitaker shook his head. “Yes I did, it’s the least I could do after you let me live with you—and you can ask me to leave at any time! Your apartment is amazing, but I could always go back to the hospital…” He rambled on trying to make it clear that he wasn’t trying to impose on Trinity’s personal space, and she could sense his sincerity. She still had her worries that he was secretly a perv or some creep, but he seemed genuine so she started to relax.
Trinity sat at the bar of the kitchen and watched as Dennis finished making their breakfast. No one had made her food in forever, probably since high school when she still lived with her parents. It was nice to feel taken care of for a change.
Once the food was ready, Dennis set a plate in front of Trinity and another at the seat next to her for himself. It was sunny-side up eggs on toast with a sliced apple on the side. It felt sort of like what you would feed to a little kid, but it was still really sweet. Trinity couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the plate and back up to Whitaker, who looked so anxious, poor thing.
“If this sucks, you’re moving back into the hospital,” she joked with a straight face. Dennis’ heart dropped and he chuckled nervously, unsure if she was fully joking or not. Trinity took a bite and was in love.
“This is so good, oh my god. You’re making breakfast every morning, that’s the price of living here.”
His face instantly lit up. “That’s fine with me! I love to cook.”
As the two of them sat and ate breakfast, they made some small talk. How did you sleep, how was the shower, that kind of stuff. Santos didn’t typically like socializing right after waking up, but it was nice to have someone around. It could get lonely living by herself without any friends in the area. Once they finished eating and cleaning up, Trinity suggested that they go shopping for some clothes since Whitaker desperately needed them. Neither of them were working, so it would be a nice way to spend the day after the previous one had been so stressful. They both got ready and headed out to the nearest thrift store.
Whitaker sort of just wandered picking up things here and there not really knowing what to look for while Santos rifled through every item on the racks.
“You look like a sad lost sheep,” said Trinity. “What type of clothes do you like? What do you normally wear?”
The question sort of stumped him. “I don’t know, just shirts and jeans I guess.”
Trinity sighed. “Okay… You grew up on a farm, right? Do you like flannels? That seems farm-y.”
Dennis smiled. “My dad used to let me borrow this one flannel of his, it was my favorite shirt. I haven’t worn one since.”
“Sounds like the perfect thing then, let’s get you a flannel.”
They picked out two good flannels along with some basic tees and a sweater for Dennis and they headed to the dressing rooms for him to try on. Trinity made him do a fashion show for her, which embarrassed the hell out of him, but Santos was having the time of her life. They ended up buying all of the clothes they had found for Dennis and Trinity found some tops for herself.
By the time they got back to the apartment, it was noon and both of them were hungry for lunch. They each just threw together whatever leftovers and random things were sitting in the fridge and called it a meal. They decided to watch some TV while they ate.
”You’ve seriously never seen New Girl before?” Asked Trinity, looking at Whitaker with genuine shock. “It’s so funny, you’ll love it. And if you don’t, don’t tell me because you’ll be kicked out.”
“You’re joking, right?” Dennis chuckled nervously, and Trinity nodded her head laughing back at him. “You can’t keep making jokes about kicking me out because one time you’ll be serious and I won’t even know.” Trinity just made an evil laugh and put on the first episode.
Dennis wasn’t super into it at first, but after about 2 hours of watching he was hooked. They watched mostly in silence apart from their laughter, but it was a comfortable silence. Neither of them felt the need to fill it with awkward chatter or unnecessary commentary. Trinity couldn’t believe it, but she actually enjoyed hanging out with him. For the first time in forever, she really felt comfortable around someone—and it was a man. She never in a million years would have expected it, yet here this guy was living on her couch and she honestly enjoyed his company. She must have been staring because Dennis turned to look at her, and his eyebrows furrowed as he studied her face.
“Are you ok? We can stop watching if you want, we have been watching for a while.”
“No, I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s just…” Trinity didn’t really know what to say. She didn’t want to get emotional, that was too much for someone she just met yesterday. She pushed her thoughts down and just said “never mind,” but that didn’t satisfy Whitaker. He reached for the remote and paused the show.
“What’s going on?” He asked sincerely. There was a certain look in his eyes that just made it impossible for Trinity to dismiss him.
“I’m just… really glad we’re friends,” she said, darting her eyes around the room. God, she hated talking like this. But Dennis’ face immediately lit up and a grin crept onto his face.
“Yeah, me too.”
Santos looked back at him with that huge grin and she couldn’t help but smile too. She felt so comfortable in that moment. Even after the terrible shift she had the day before, she felt so calm.
She snatched the remote back saying, “God, you’re such a Huckleberry,” and the two of them chuckled. They sat back and watched the show, just appreciating each other's company.
Trinity Santos has a rough day and relies on unhealthy coping mechanisms she hasn’t used in years. Garcia finds her at her lowest and comforts her.
TW self harm, suicide, and mention of SA!!
“Shhh… it’s okay, just stay still”
His hand rubbed her leg. She tried to move away, but she was frozen in place. Unable to move, unable to breathe.
”Trinity,” a voice echoed. It got louder and louder until it was almost a scream. “Trinity!”
She opened her eyes, her heart racing and struggling to get a breath in. She swallowed and glanced around the room to see Whitaker in the doorway.
”C’mon! You’re normally awake before me, forget your alarm?”
Whitaker stared with furrowed brows. He had noticed her heavy breathing and wanted to ask if everything was ok, but Trinity groaned and shouted “get out” before he had a chance. Dennis walked out and closed the door as Trinity sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It had been a while since her last nightmare, but she knew it was inevitable. Pushing the memory down, she took her pajamas off and looked for her scrubs. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the corner of her room and she couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. She stared at the scars on her legs and touched her fingertips to them for a moment before wincing, remembering the feeling of his hands on her. She threw on her scrubs and put her hair up and walked out into the kitchen of their small apartment.
The smell of toast and eggs filled the air and Trinity’s stomach growled.
“Huckleberry, did you make any food for me or is that all for you?” He scoffed and replied, “Yes, I made some for you. You’re running late and I didn’t think there would be enough time for you to make something.”
“Awww, you loooove me,” Trinity replied, stuffing some toast in her mouth. Whitaker just nodded in return.
As they ate, Dennis would glance over every so often with a look of worry. Trinity just ignored it, but it made her almost feel angry. She never liked when people worried about her.
They both finished getting ready and headed over to the hospital.
The shift started fine. It wasn’t too busy and all of the patients were pretty straightforward diagnoses. It was around 2 now, and Trinity sat down to catch up with her charting when Whitaker walked up next to her.
“You seemed a bit shaken up this morning, everything ok?”
It was a simple question, but it made Trinity’s chest feel heavy. Everything was fine—she was doing well at the ED, her and Garcia were in a good place, she had a few friends to hang out with—but things had never really been ok for her. She just replied with a simple “I’m fine,” which didn’t satisfy Whitaker, but Dana sent both of them to handle an incoming patient before more could be said. Trinity let out a sigh of relief as the two of them headed toward the gurney rolling through the doorway.
“14 year old female, 7 cm incised wounds on both forearms, heavy bleeding.”
A “Jesus Christ” slipped from Santos’ lips as she walked next to the gurney. The EMT went on to further describe the girl’s condition, but Trinity heard none of it. She just stared at this child with her open wrists and Hello Kitty pajama pants drenched in blood. The girl was barely conscious, but her eyes were fixed on Trinity. Suddenly, Santos silenced her thoughts and got straight to work.
They checked the girl's vitals, checked the depth of her wounds, and gave her antibiotics and morphine for the pain. Once everything had died down, it was only Santos and Whitaker left in the room. Each of them took care of an arm.
Santos stared at the cut. It was deep. There were faint marks and scars surrounding the gash, some still scabs and barely healed. She irrigated the wound and stitched it up with extra care. As she wrapped the girl’s arm in gauze, Trinity remembered the time she had almost tried to kill herself. She was in middle school and sick of the way people in her life kept using her time and time again. She had written a note and was ready to do it, but something stopped her. She couldn’t remember what, but she was grateful for whatever it was.
The girl was more awake now, but she didn’t speak. She just watched as she was stitched up and covered. Santos looked up when she was done to see the poor girl dead eyed lying back in the hospital bed just staring at her arms, drops of blood seeping through the white covering. Santos pulled the blanket over the girl to hide her arms, and she gave Whitaker a look to do the same once he finished.
“My name is Doctor Santos, but you can call me Trinity. This is Doctor Whitaker,” she pointed to Dennis and he gave a piteous smile and a nod. “You’re safe now. A psychiatrist is on the way to talk to you and help you with what’s going on. Until then, we can wait with you.” It wasn’t custom for them to wait with patients, but the hospital was slow enough, and Santos felt like it was the least she could do for this scared little girl.
The girl just nodded in response. They all sat there in the uncomfortable silence with just the beeping of the monitor and voices creeping in from the rest of the hospital. Trinity asked for the girl’s name, to which she replied “Cat.”
“That’s a very pretty name. I used to have a good friend named Cat, she loved Hello Kitty too.”
They sat in silence for a while longer before the girl spoke again.
“I ruined these pants, didn’t I,” she said quietly in a monotone voice. It was just a whisper—barely audible. Trinity’s heart shattered. “Don’t worry about that, you can buy new ones,” she said, voice cracking and fighting back tears. How could she worry about something so stupid after just trying to take her life? Whitaker could see the pain in Santos’ eyes and knew he needed to do something.
”You know what, Doctor Santos can go find you some new clothes from the lost and found so you don’t have to wear those anymore. Does that sound good?” The girl nodded again and Trinity stood up and began to walk out. Whitaker stepped toward her to try and ask what was going on again, but Trinity just shook her head and walked out.
Santos went to the lost and found and picked out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for the girl and started to walk back to the girl’s room before Dr. Robby called out to her.
“Santos, I need you with me! We got a car crash vic in Trauma 2!”
Santos groaned and gave the clothes to Princess to deliver to the girl before making a beeline to Trauma 2. “Focus, you have patients,” Trinity whispered to herself as she walked.
Robby, EMTs, and several nurses were already in the room. Santos was ordered to check the limbs while Robby looked for brain function and consciousness. The first thing she noticed was severe bleeding from the right arm. She cut open the man's sleeve to see bone poking through the skin.
“Looks like an oblique displaced radial fracture on the right arm,” she called out.
“Ooh, looks nasty,” a familiar voice said behind her. Santos turned to see Garcia gloving up and smiling at her. “Santos, help me with that arm,” she called out. Trinity couldn’t help but smile, but she pushed it down and focused back on her patient. The two of them dealt with the arm and finished up with what they could before he was sent up to surgery. Yolanda started to walk away, but Trinity grabbed her arm and stopped her. Yolanda turned around and gave her a confused look. “What?”
Santos froze for a second. She wanted to talk about the nightmare and the attempted suicide patient, but the words just didn’t come out. Is now really the right time, in the middle of a shift? Were they even a couple who talked about their emotions, or were they just hooking up? She panicked and just said, “Can I come over tonight? Whitaker won’t be home til late and I don’t love an empty apartment.”
”Oh,” Yolanda replied. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Oh, ok,” was all Santos could say before Garcia walked off. What the hell? No answer? She thought they were doing well. Did she do something wrong? Was she getting too close? Doing too much? That had to be it, she was always too much. She was spiraling. Santos felt an itching on her thigh, a burning telling her to cut. She hadn’t acted on the feeling since she was a teen, but it was so much stronger than before. She looked around the room and saw that no one was there. An unopened scalpel sat on top of a cart. She contemplated taking it—no one had to know. She didn’t even have to use it, she could just hold onto it just in case. She looked around again to make sure no one was about to walk in and she quickly grabbed the scalpel and shoved it into her pocket. She walked out of the room and immediately bumped into Whitaker who dropped the papers he was carrying.
“Fuck, sorry,” Dennis said quickly. He bent down to pick up the papers and saw Santos rush away without a word. “Trinity! What is up with you today,” he shouted, but she was gone before she could hear it.
Santos rushed into the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. Fuck. Everything replayed in her head—the nightmare, seeing the sliced open wrists, Yolanda running off, tripping Whitaker. It was all too much. Why was she always like this, always fucking up everyone else’s day and driving others away just because she had a bad day? It made her feel like a helpless child. Why was she even still bothered by the nightmares? It had been years since anything had actually happened, she should be fine by now. Why couldn’t she just get over it? She needed some sort of relief. She took the bag out of her pocket and took out the scalpel. She held it in her hand for a moment and just stared at it. She knew it was stupid to relapse. She could lie to herself and say it would just be one cut, but it never was. She slid off her pants and held the scalpel to her leg. The metal was cold on her skin and burned as it sliced into her thigh, a feeling she had long forgotten and missed so badly. She made a few more cuts until she heard the bathroom door open.
Trinity’s heart started racing. Panic set in. “Fuck! What do I do,” she thought. Her thoughts were racing and her hands started shaking so bad that she dropped the scalpel.
”What the hell?”
Trinity froze. How could she be so fucking stupid? Footsteps slowly approached the stall and there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Is everything alright in there?”
Trinity recognized that voice, it was Yolanda. She never wanted Yolanda to see her like this. She had seen the scars before, but they had never talked about it. The marks were old enough for them both to pretend they weren’t there, but there was no avoiding it now. Trinity opened the door and began to cry as Yolanda stared at her silently in shock.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You were never supposed to see me like this. I’m supposed to be better than this, I’m supposed to be strong. I’m sorry…” Suddenly Yolanda’s arms were wrapped tightly around Trinity, who continued to sob and apologize into her shoulder. She felt so guilty. How could she be so stupid and selfish? There are patients out there dying and she’s in the bathroom crying and cutting herself over nothing. Yolanda didn’t let go of the hug. She just held Trinity tightly and whispered “everything is going to be okay, just breathe slowly—in and out.”
Once the sobs became a weak cry, Garcia finally let go. She grabbed some toilet paper and pressed it firmly against the cuts to stop the bleeding. Her touch was firm, but comforting. Trinity had been used to cleaning her own wounds for so long, she couldn’t even remember the last time someone else took care of her. The two of them locked eyes, and it was different than when Trinity had first opened the door. Yolanda’s eyes were softer and sadder. She didn’t look disgusted or angry or disappointed, just full of care.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Trinity shook her head at first, but then she realized how stupid that was.
“It’s just been such a rough day and it’s only 2. I feel so fucking pathetic.” Garcia stopped her and said, “you are not pathetic, don’t talk about yourself like that. You are the strongest person I know. I’ve seen you deal with some crazy shit here, you’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You can talk to me.”
“This sounds so stupid, but… I had a nightmare.” Yolanda nodded, letting Trinity know that she could say as much or as little as she wanted. “When I was younger, my dad would… do things that I didn’t want him to do.” She didn’t want to say what fully happened, she had never said it out loud before and it just made it feel too real. “I could f-feel his hands on me again. It felt so real…” Trinity trailed off and she began hitting her fist against her other leg as she relived the dream. Yolanda placed her hand on Trinity’s knee. She didn’t know what to say that would help, so all she said was “it’s okay, you’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.” It was such a simple statement—“no one is going to hurt you”—but somehow no one had ever told her that before, at least not when it was true. She stopped hitting her leg and instead placed her hand on top of Garcia’s. The two of them sat there in silence just appreciating the feeling of another person being there.
Trinity went on to tell her about the 14 year old girl and how seeing her scars broke her. She told her about her own suicide attempt when she was a kid and how her friend did take her own life. Garcia just sat and listened. No judgement, no anger, just care and patience. Eventually, Trinity brought up their earlier interaction after dealing with the car crash victim.
“I don’t mean to sound controlling or possessive, but why did you just walk away earlier with no answer and no explanation? I felt so… I don’t know, unwanted I guess.”
Yolanda sighed. “I’m sorry for walking away like that, I’m just not used to talking about us at work. It surprised me is all, and that wasn’t fair to you, I know. I want you to come over. I never want you to leave.”
Trinity could feel tears forming in her eyes again. “You’re not just saying that because of this, are you,” she asked, motioning to the blood-soaked toilet paper Garcia was still holding to her thigh. She shook her head. “Of course not. I like you a lot, Trinity. I know our relationship has been mostly physical, but I care for you so much. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you.”
Suddenly, all of Trinity’s sadness melted away. Here was this person who wanted her, really wanted her. Not for her body, just for her. “I love you,” she whispered. She had never been able to say that and truly mean it before now. “I love you too,” Yolanda responded. There was something so pure about this moment, they wished they could stay in it forever.
I haven’t written in forever!!! This was so fun, I hope you enjoy ♡
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