three becomes two [d.w]
summary: you choose dennis (alt ending to three’s a crowd)
pairing: fem!reader x dennis whitaker, fem!reader x frank langdon (unrequited)
warnings/tags: abby and kids do not exist in this universe, jealousy, flirting, angst (so much angst), swearing, so much fluffy cuteness, descriptions of medical procedures/injuries that you’d expect from the pitt
notes: i love u topo!!!
likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!
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masterlist
[Part 1] [Part 2]
By the time you finally forced yourself down from the rooftop, the moon had long since swallowed the last traces of daylight.
Day shift faces had disappeared, replaced by the self-proclaimed night crawlers who somehow seemed to thrive on caffeine at 2am.
Like always, Abbot was at the helm, the soft spoken man who had talked you off your metaphorical ledge seemed like a figment of your imagination as you watched him work with his usual calm efficiency.
You felt strangely disconnected from it all now, like you were observing everything through thick glass.
Abbot's words still sat heavily in your chest.
I think deep down you already know which one of them might give you that.
You hated how badly you wanted him to be wrong.
You made it halfway to your car before you stopped moving altogether.
The thought of going home suddenly felt unbearable. Your apartment would be too quiet. Too much empty space and time to replay every conversation, every look, every almost-confession until your brain dissolved into static. And, perhaps most dangerously of all, too many reminders.
The photostrip from the vintage store. The lamp. The photos on your fridge. The sweater Dennis had leant you ages ago draped over your chair.
Without really thinking about it, your feet had already changed direction.
The night air hit your face in a cool rush the second you stepped outside.
Your legs carried you without any sense of direction. You shoved your hands deeper into your jacket pockets as you walked past darkened storefronts, a group of drunk corporate suits spilling out of a bar, a florist hosing down the pavement outside their shop.
A few more blocks passed before you finally slowed. Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since mid-morning.
Your gaze lifted.
A familiar hidden red neon sign glowed softly against the dark street.
You stared at it for a moment before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
Of course your stupid subconscious had brought you here.
The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped inside, warmth wrapping around you instantly.
The diner was busier than the last time you’d been here with Dennis.
Two construction workers occupied a booth near the window, nursing coffees and looking exhausted. A mother sat near the counter trying unsuccessfully to stop her two children from turning sugar packets into confetti. Somewhere in the back, pans clattered loudly against one another followed by a stream of rapid Italian swearing.
You felt your mouth twitch despite yourself.
“Ah!”
Angelo appeared from the kitchen, his face immediately brightening when he spotted you.
“The lovely lady!” He spread his arms dramatically as he approached. “You come back!”
You smiled properly for what felt like the first time all day.
“Hi Angelo.”
He clicked his tongue as he ushered you towards the same booth you and Dennis had sat in the night of the fireworks.
“Where’s Topo?”
The nickname landed somewhere beneath your ribs.
You shrugged off your jacket and slid into the booth slowly, trying not to think about Dennis sitting opposite you last time, carefully picking capsicum off your pizza like it was second nature.
“Taking a break from me.”
The joke came out weaker than you intended. You glanced down at the menu to hide your face.
Angelo hummed knowingly, leaning a calloused hand against the table. He studied you more carefully then, his expression softening slightly.
“You look like a kicked puppy.”
The bluntness of it caught you off guard enough that your eyes widened.
“You got the face.” He gestured vaguely to your brow. “Even got the battle scars to match.”
You huffed out a startled laugh.
“Rough week.” You admitted eventually.
Angelo nodded immediately, as though that explained everything.
Without asking, he reached over and plucked the menu from your hands.
“You eat.” He declared.
Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not getting a choice again, am I?”
He raised a brow. “You think you know Italian food better than Angelo?”
You lifted your hands up in defeat. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
You shook your head, smiling to yourself faintly as he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Slowly, your gaze drifted around the diner, your smile fading.
The chipped counter. The faded Steelers poster near the door. The tiny crack in the salt shaker Dennis had pointed out because he'd apparently witnessed a drunk guy throw it during a game years ago.
It was ridiculous. The place was just a diner, and yet somehow every corner of it felt touched by him. Like he'd left pieces of himself here without meaning to.
Your phone sat heavily in your jean pocket.
Before you could really stop yourself, you pulled it out and opened your camera roll automatically. Your thumb moved, scrolling deeper into your trove of memories in an attempt to distract yourself.
Dennis asleep in the break room snuggled into the CPR dummy.
Dennis holding up a drill while assembling your dining table.
Dennis and you at karaoke, blurry from movement because you’d both been laughing too hard when Santos took it.
You stared at that one the longest.
Not because either of you looked particularly good, but because you remembered that was one of the first nights in a long time that you felt like you had friends.
You scrolled further.
A screenshot of a text thread between Dennis after a terrible shift:
u alive?
Your response:
physically no emotionally also no
And his:
cool same. wanna split mozzarella sticks and a monster after work?
Your lips involuntarily curved.
Before you could stop yourself, you were on his instagram scrolling. You scrolled further back than you'd ever bothered to before. Past the few photos he'd uploaded during the time you'd known him, past med school, until you reached Nebraska.
Your thumb hovered. He looked so much younger, his smile wide as he stood beside a cow, permanently frozen in time.
You came to a stop at a photo of him on a farm. His farm, surely.
The one he had invited you to come visit.
The invitation felt different now as realisation dawned on you.
Because Dennis didn't let people in, not really. He was friendly, kind, probably too willing to help anyone who asked. But he protected the things that mattered - always vague at work about his family, the farm, the things he missed, the things he loved.
But not with you. Somehow, over the past 10 months, he'd been handing those pieces to you one at a time. Never making a big deal of it or asking for anything in return. Just quietly making room for you.
Before you realised what was happening, your imagination filled in the gaps.
Being woken up by a rooster at some ungodly hour, groaning as you buried your face back into his chest. Dirt roads stretching endlessly beneath pale hues of pink and gold. Dennis teaching you how to ride horses while trying not to laugh at how painfully suburban you were. Leaning on his shoulder watching the sunset from the porch as cicadas hummed around you.
The image settled somewhere deep inside you with startling ease, warmth spreading out from it and seeping into you.
The strange thing was it didn't feel new, as if those images had already existed somewhere inside you. As though some part of you had already quietly started building a future with him.
You thought about the fireworks. The humid summer air. His fingers resting beside yours on the bench like he wanted to hold your hand but was too scared to cross the line.
Your throat tightened unexpectedly.
You shoved your phone back into your pocket when Angelo reappeared shepherding a pizza and a glass bottle of coke towards your table.
"This will fix you."
Your stomach growled immediately.
"Thank you Angelo."
"Of course, anything for a friend of Topo."
You elected to ignore his emphasise on friend as you eagerly reached forward to grab your first slice.
Angelo remained where he was, hovering. He cleared his throat after a moment.
"You know.... this is probably not my place to say."
You watched him sling his dishrag over his shoulder, one beefy arm leaning against the booth.
"That boy has come here more times than I can count." Angelo gestured to the booth. "But that night he brought you here, I've never seen Topo like that before."
Your pulse stumbled.
"He looks at you like you hung a moon pie."
You tried to laugh it off.
"I'm sure that's not true."
Angelo's expression softened.
"You know how many times that boy has sat in this exact booth talking about you? Honestly I think I know more about you than I know about my own daughter."
Your cheeks flushed an offensive shade of red.
"Of course he never said your name but the second you walked in here-" Angelo shook his head. "I knew."
You stared down at the table for a long moment, fingertips tracing absent circles against the condensation pooling beneath your soda bottle.
"He's a good boy."
You smiled softly. "Yeah...yeah he is."
Angelo studied you for a moment, then nodded once as though he'd just received confirmation of something he'd already known.
"Eat." He ordered, wrapping his knuckles once on the chipped lacor. "Let the bread soak up your sadness."
You let out a breathy laugh as Angelo disappeared into the kitchen.
And as you ate your pizza and listened to the hum of the diner around you, for the first time in days, the knot in your chest began to loosen.
Because somewhere deep down, beneath all the panic and confusion and fear of ruining everything, you finally allowed yourself to admit the truth.
When you pictured your life, one that was happy, calm, steady - every version of it somehow led back to Dennis Whitaker.
Abbot's voice echoed back through your head.
I think deep down you already know.
Except this time, you didn’t argue with him.
-
The next shift felt unbearable from the second you walked through the doors.
Every instinctive movement you’d once brushed off as normal suddenly felt charged with unbearable clarity.
You understood too much now. Weighed down with the realisation of what you wanted - of who you wanted. Which somehow made walking into work infinitely worse.
You barely made it to your locker before you spotted Dennis already at his.
He was digging through his locker with the same chaotic lack of organisation he'd always possessed. Something warm unfurled instinctively in your chest at the sight of him. Before you could overthink it, the greeting slipped out.
"Hey."
You winced at how strained your voice sounded, like you were trying way too hard to be casual.
He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, nearly hitting his head on his open locker door as he turned.
The second his gaze landed on you properly, concern immediately replaced whatever else had been there before. The fluorescent lights overhead caught against the dark circles beneath his eyes as he tried to shift his features into something neutral.
"Hey." He answered, watching you as you opened your locker beside his.
“How’s your head?”
Your fingers instinctively brushed the bandage taped above your eyebrow.
“Oh.” You forced a small smile. “Still attached, surprisingly.”
Dennis huffed a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite disguise the nervousness sitting underneath it.
"Ogilvie's been asking everyone for updates." His mouth twitched faintly. "I think he's waiting to get fired."
"Or for me to sue him." You remarked.
That earned a real laugh.
For a moment neither of you spoke. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, more unfamiliar than anything. And you hated it.
Because standing here felt painfully normal. Dennis still looked at you the same way. Still angled himself towards you unconsciously like he always had. Still held onto that gentle attentiveness that made you feel like the centre of his entire world whenever he focused on you.
But now you could see it.
Every tiny thing Santos and McKay had pointed out suddenly felt blindingly obvious.
And judging by the slight tension in Dennis’ shoulders, the careful distance he was forcing between the two of you, he knew that you knew.
Your chest tightened.
"So-
"Anyway-"
The two of you began at the same time.
You both stopped, staring at eachother for a moment.
Dennis let out an awkward huff of laughter and gestured for you to continue.
You withheld a sigh. "I was going to make a joke that surely this shift can't be worse than the last one but then...
"You realise you jinx yourself when you say shit like that?"
"Exactly."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, but it faded almost immediately, like he'd caught himself doing something he shouldn't.
He glanced over his shoulder, like he was looking towards the escape route. And before you could say anything else, he took a step backwards.
"I should-" He pointed vaguely behind him. "Need to check something before handover."
"Oh. Yeah. Of course."
You tried to hide the disappointment that hit harder than it should have.
His eyes met yours briefly, long enough for something conflicted to flicker across his face.
Then he nodded.
"I'll see you around."
And before you could stop him, he was gone.
-
It had only been a week since your run in with the surgical light and yet, it felt like a year.
Dennis was still treating you like a glass figure. It wasn't in an obvious way to anyone else, but it was jarring to you.
The way his eyes would widen slightly whenever he spotted you before immediately darting somewhere else. The way he always seemed to find something urgently important to do whenever you started walking in his direction. The way he now positioned himself just far enough away that he couldn't accidentally brush your shoulder in a crowded trauma bay.
Like proximity itself had become dangerous.
Like one wrong move would have you permanently shattered across the floor of the ED.
You were miserable.
You hadn't realised how deeply Dennis had woven himself into your life until the threads started disappearing.
You'd missed the gym the past three days because you hadn't had Dennis pushing you to go, your phone felt strangely quiet without Dennis spamming you with stupid reels that were always perfectly curated for you, every time you opened your cupboard at home you realised you had no snacks because Dennis hadn't snuck a packet into your work bag when you weren't looking.
And the worst part was that despite everything, despite the emotional clarity currently bulldozing through your nervous system, despite the panic and confusion and weeks of emotional whiplash - you still smiled instinctively whenever you saw him.
Like your body had already made the decision before your brain caught up.
You tried to focus on work instead.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make that impossible too.
You were in the descrubbing bay after a trauma, trying to come down from the inevitable adrenaline rush.
“Careful.”
Frank’s voice appeared beside you just as you nearly walked directly into the monitor behind you.
His hand settled briefly against your elbow, steadying you before immediately dropping away again.
You looked up.
Somehow he was still able to look directly at you in a way that made it feel like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t given him permission to touch.
You broke eye contact quickly. Looking at him had become difficult, because every time you did, guilt followed shortly after.
“You trying to get another claim?” He asked lightly.
A laugh escaped automatically before you could stop it.
Something softened in Frank’s expression at the sound, like he'd been starving for that reaction.
"Hoping this one might take me out of action for a bit longer."
Frank smiled properly then, small but genuine.
"Bold strategy."
And there it was again. That horrible pull.
Even now, even after all the chaos and confusion and emotional fallout - being around him still felt magnetic.
But somewhere over the past few weeks, you'd finally realised something important.
Being around Frank felt exciting, almost like you were doing something you shouldn't. If you pulled back the layers, you probably would figure it was because you had looked up to him for so long.
But being around Dennis was something else entirely. He felt like an anchor, like he was steadily pulling you into a safe harbour. Like he was a steady, warm presence that was always meant to exist in your life.
"So, you ever going to stop avoiding me?" His words were light, but you could hear the edge veiled behind them.
You swallowed, glancing down at your sneakers.
When you looked back up, Frank was already watching you.
The shift in his expression was subtle, but unmistakable.
And suddenly it hit you. He knew. Not because you or anyone else had told him. But because Frank Langdon noticed things, particularly when they involved you.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
"You figured it out."
Not a question. Not accusatory. Not angry. Just an observation.
And somehow that made it worse.
"How did you know?"
Frank exhaled softly through his nose, gaze dropping briefly toward the floor. When he looked back up, he seemed oddly vulnerable. Like he was debating how honest he wanted to be.
"I think I've known for a while." He spoke quietly. "Ever since I've been back I've felt... out of place."
His gaze drifted towards the department beyond the curtain. "I've felt like I've been trying to catch up to a version of you that's outgrown me."
Your brow furrowed slightly, but you bit your tongue, granting him the space to let the words tumble out.
"You and Dennis make sense. You're both ambitious, you work well together, you have each other's backs...." His mouth twitched. "And he looks at you like you personally invented caffeine."
"Frank..."
He shook his head almost immediately.
"You don't need to explain."
"I care about you." You breathed out.
His expression faltered for a second.
"I know."
"I haven't outgrown you I just...." You trailed off, unable to find the right words.
"I know."
Emotion climbed sharply into your throat.
The sounds of the department drifted through the curtain, reminding you that life was carrying on around the two of you.
His mouth twitched faintly, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes.
“You know, for the record…” He glanced back at the curtain. “He’s been miserable.”
You blinked.
Frank huffed quietly.
“Like genuinely painful to watch.” He paused. “Which has honestly made this whole thing a lot less fun for me.”
A watery laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Frank smiled softly at the sound. Then something flickered across his face, gone almost instantly. But you saw it. The heartbreak. The kind that came from finally accepting something you couldn't change.
“Well.” He cleared his throat lightly. “Guess Nebraska finally wins something.”
Your eyes burned immediately.
“Frank-"
“No seriously.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I’m trying to be mature here. Don’t ruin it.”
You let out another shaky laugh, pressing your lips together hard.
For a moment he just looked at you, like he was committing you to memory.
The curtain to the descrubbing bay shifted.
The two of you turned instinctively. You froze as your eyes met Dennis'.
For a moment, it was like the three of you were suspended in time. Dennis stood rooted in place, his eyes darting between the two of you, taking in how close you were standing, the expressions on your faces.
You watched a dozen different conclusions flash across his features.
Then, his face morphed. His jaw clenching as he took a step back.
Something in your chest cracked clean down the middle.
"Den-"
He was gone before you could even get the word out.
Your hands fell limp at your sides, a curse falling softly from your lips.
Beside you, Frank followed your gaze for a moment before looking back at you.
"You should probably go talk to him."
You turned to him as he folded his arms. The smallest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You know before he goes and crashes his tractor or something."
Your brow knitted. "How long have you been sitting on that one?"
Frank's smirk widened. "A while."
-
By the time you finished descrubbing, Dennis was no where to be found.
Dennis wasn't particularly difficult to find under normal circumstances. He tended to orbit the same handful of places whenever he needed a moment to himself.
But this time he wasn't near the nurses station, not in the stairwell, not by the ambulance bay, not in the breakroom.
The image of his face in the descrubbing bay replayed itself relentlessly in your mind.
You approached Santos and McKay, your heart beating painfully against your ribcage.
"Have you guys seen Den?"
Both of them looked up.
Santos raised an eyebrow instantly.
"Ah yeah, a little bit ago."
"I passed him maybe ten minutes back." McKay offered.
Your heart climbed into your throat.
"Where?"
The two of them exchanged a glance.
"Not sure." McKay frowned slightly. "He said something about needing air."
You nodded, your pulse roaring in your ears. "Ok um-" You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Can you tell Robby I'm taking a break or something..." You said vaguely, already moving past them before they could ask anything further.
Santos watched you disappear through the ambulance bay doors.
The heavy doors hadn't even finished swinging shut before she turned back towards McKay.
"A break? In the pitt?"
McKay folded her arms. "That's how you know it's serious."
Santos stared thoughtfully towards the doors for another second.
"If Robby asks, I think it's safer for everyone if we just tell him she's been hit by a car."
McKay snorted.
"And it'd probably involve less paperwork than whatever's actually happening."
-
The late afternoon sun hung low over Pittsburgh by the time you slipped out through the ambulance bay doors, washing the city in muted gold.
The heat from earlier had finally started to break, replaced by a breeze drifting in from the river that lifted loose strands of hair from the back of your neck as you crossed the street.
Your pulse thudded harder with every step, your pace quickening as your legs guided you to the place you somehow knew Dennis would be.
For weeks you'd been desperate for clarity and now that you finally had it, you weren't sure what to do with it.
Because the terrifying part was that once you said it out loud, everything would change. And if you fucked this up, you were going to lose one of the most important people in your life.
Part of you wanted to turn around. To walk back into work and pretend none of this had happened. Pretend that you hadn't gone to Angelo's, pretend that you hadn't spent hours staring at photos of Nebraska. Pretend you hadn't realised that every version of your life you imagined automatically weaved Dennis in somehow.
The path along the river was busier than the last time Dennis led you here.
A couple sat beneath a tree sharing headphones. Someone jogged over the pedestrian bridge with a dog straining excitedly against its leash.
You came to a stop.
Dennis was there, seated on the same bench. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together as he stared out across the water.
For a second you just stood there watching him.
Your footsteps must have been louder than you realised because Dennis looked up suddenly, his entire body going rigid at the sight of you.
Your stomach flipped.
“Hey.”
His throat bobbed visibly before he straightened slightly on the bench.
“Hey.”
Neither of you moved.
Dennis glanced away first, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Can I sit?” You said after a moment.
His eyes widened slightly as his head jerked back up to you.
“Yeah.” He shifted immediately, making more room for you even though there’d already been plenty. “Of course."
You sat beside him carefully, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.
The river rolled steadily in front of you, sunlight breaking across the water in fractured streaks of golds and pinks.
Neither of you spoke for a moment.
Dennis’ knee bounced once, then twice, then he pressed his palm hard against it to stop himself.
You realised then how out of place the two of you must look, still in your scrubs, faces pale from exhaustion, sitting far enough apart that the interaction didn't look natural.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
You offered him a small shrug. "Just had a hunch."
Dennis hummed, nodding as he rubbed a hand over his jaw sheepishly. "I am kind of predictable."
"Yeah, turns out there's like only three places you go outside of work."
Dennis laughed quietly at that. "Guess I need some new spots."
When you glanced out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dennis already looking at you.
The two of you looked away.
Jesus Christ. This wasn't you. You didn't get nervous around Dennis Whitaker. You'd seen him do drunk karaoke, then seen him throw up after drunk karaoke, then had him carry you up the stairs after you threw up yourself.
He was one of your best friends, the two of you practically lived in each others pockets. Now you could barely keep eye contact with him.
You swallowed carefully before speaking again as a streak of courage surged through you.
"What you just walked in on with... Frank and I..."
The shift in Dennis was immediate. A flicker of pain flashed across his features before they settled into something resigned.
Like he'd already rehearsed whatever heartbreak was coming next.
"It isn't what you think."
Dennis' eyes shot up to meet yours again.
"What-" He swallowed nervously. "What do I think?"
The vulnerability in the question nearly broke you, because he genuinely didn't know. Because somewhere along the way he'd convinced himself he'd already lost.
You looked down at your hands, then back at the river, then finally at him.
"I went to Angelo's the other night."
Dennis froze, completely caught off guard by the change in conversation.
"I don't know why, I just didn't want to go home and somehow I ended up there, like my legs had a mind of their own." You fiddled with a loose thread of your scrub pants.
"...what did Angelo say?"
Your lips twitched involuntarily. "Nothing."
Dennis huffed. "You're a terrible liar."
"Do you really want to know?"
"No actually not really. I'm sure whatever it is will haunt me."
A proper laugh escaped you then.
This was the longest the two of you had been together since the night at the bar, and slowly - piece by piece - you were starting to feel how you used to, like you were finding your way back to each other.
The sound of your laugh seemed to pull him apart a little.
Because the second it faded, his expression shifted again. Nervousness creeping back in around the edges.
Like he still wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading.
Your heartbeat thudded painfully against your ribs.
"When I was sitting in there, I started thinking about your offer to go to the farm." Your eyes flickered back to the river in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed by how vulnerable this felt.
"I started picturing us doing all of this stuff together."
Dennis stilled beside you.
You twisted toward him more fully now, your hands curling together in your lap.
"A rooster waking me up at five in the morning... you teaching me how to ride a horse."
That earned you a proper smile.
"The weird thing was... it didn't feel far-fetched. It felt... familiar."
The breeze shifted around you as everything disappeared except him.
"And then I realised something."
His gaze stayed locked on you now, eyes dangerously hopeful.
"Every time something good happens lately, you're the person I want to tell." Your voice grew quiet. "When I have a terrible shift, you're the person I look for. When something makes me laugh, you're the person I want to send it to."
Your eyes burned.
“Every time I picture something good, something safe, something that feels like home..." Your voice caught slightly before you forced yourself onward.
"Somehow you're always there."
For a long moment neither of you spoke.
And for the first time since you'd arrived, Dennis stopped looking afraid. Instead, he looked at you like you'd handed him something he'd been hoping for so long he'd stopped believing it was real.
The late afternoon light caught against the green flecks in his eyes, turning them softer somehow.
A nervous laugh escaped him eventually.
"Wow."
"Wow?" You echoed.
"Sorry." He let out another bark of laughter as he dragged a hand over his face. "It's just - I had this whole other thing planned when I came back."
"A whole other thing?"
"Yeah."
You watched his cheeks flush.
"Dennis." You said slowly. "What whole other thing?"
"I can't."
"You can."
Dennis groaned. "It was bad."
"Like how bad?"
"Like if I'd actually gone through with it, Santos would've bullied me for the rest of my life."
A wry smile spread across your lips. "Santo is going to bully you for the rest of your life regardless."
"That's true."
"So..." You gestured for him to continue.
He sighed.
"It may have involved a speech..."
"A speech." You repeated slowly. "You... wrote and memorised a speech?"
"No god no, I only made bullet points."
Your eyebrows shot upwards. "You made notes?"
Dennis motioned to you.
"I can barely talk to you right now, you seriously think I could get through a speech without forgetting every single line?"
The sound of your laughter that followed seemed to loosen something inside him.
His smile lingered for a moment before slowly fading, the seriousness returning gradually.
"You know after Javadi’s, I figured the last thing you needed was me making things harder.” Dennis looked back out toward the river briefly before speaking again.
“So I thought if I just backed off enough eventually things would go back to normal.” He huffed quietly. “Which was stupid because apparently I’m physically incapable of acting normal around you.”
“Apparently that makes two of us.”
That earned you a soft laugh.
God, you’d missed this. Missed him. The easy rhythm that somehow existed even inside difficult conversations.
Dennis turned toward you a little more fully now, his expression growing more serious again.
“I’m sorry, by the way.”
Your brows pulled together. “For what?”
“For the party.” He looked down briefly. “For dragging you into all that weird macho bullshit.”
You blinked.
“Den-”
“No, seriously.” He shook his head. “You had some asshole grabbing you and instead of just focusing on helping you, I made it about…” He gestured vaguely, frustrated with himself. “Everything else.”
You reached out before you could second guess yourself, your fingers brushing lightly against his wrist.
Dennis went still instantly.
"You protected me. Made me feel safe." You said quietly. "And as for everything else... I should have realised sooner."
Dennis shook his head. "You never did anything wrong."
Your hand stayed resting against his wrist.
Dennis looked down at it briefly, then back at you.
"I thought I was too late." He admitted quietly.
The confession hit you square in the chest.
"When Langdon came back, and you guys just..." He searched for the words carefully. "Fit."
Emotion climbed thickly into your throat.
"The way you looked at each other. The way you worked together. The way you'd tell stories and finish each other's sentences."
His jaw flexed briefly.
"I kept thinking that if I'd been braver six months ago and told you how I really felt maybe things would've been different."
You squeezed his wrist gently, forcing his gaze back to yours.
"Frank and I do fit in some ways." You acknowledged. "We have the same sense of humour, we work well together but... he's not the one I rely on to get through the shit show that is our job. He’s not you.”
Dennis mouth curved upward slightly at that.
"I guess what I’m trying to say is… you weren't too late Den." You murmured.
Silence wrapped around you again, except this time neither of you rushed to fill it.
The sun had dropped lower now, the river now reflected streaks of gold and orange that were the same colours that had filled the sky the night of the fireworks.
"I should probably tell you something then." He whispered.
"What?" You whispered back.
"I like you." He confessed. "Like, I really like you."
Your heart thudded in your chest as you slid your hand from his wrist towards his palm. And then finally, your fingers threaded through his.
"I really like you too Den."
Dennis swallowed. "Yeah?"
You exhaled a shaky laugh. "Yeah."
A slow disbelieving smile spread across his face then.
And suddenly the nervousness that had followed you here began to dissolve.
Because this was Dennis.
The same person who sent you terrible reels at two in the morning. The same person who hid snacks in your work bag. The same person who'd spent weeks trying to protect your feelings even while his own heart was breaking.
Your Dennis.
Dennis' gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then immediately shot back up.
The movement was so obvious it made your smile widen.
Dennis’ fingers tightened slightly around yours.
The breeze drifting from the river lifted a few strands of hair across your face. Before you could brush them away, Dennis reached over and tucked them gently behind your ear.
A breath caught in your throat.
Because now he was looking at you in that way again. That soft, overwhelmed look that somehow still carried enough intensity beneath it to make your stomach flip violently.
The air between you seemed to narrow suddenly.
You became hyperaware of everything all at once. The warmth of his hand. The way his chain glinted in the afternoon sun. The way his eyes flicked once more toward your mouth before dragging themselves back up again like he was desperately trying to remain respectful.
You swallowed carefully.
Dennis leaned in slowly, like he was still giving you time to change your mind.
Your heart hammered so hard you were convinced he could probably feel it through your hand.
“What are you waiting for Whitaker?"
That finally snapped the last thread of restraint holding him together.
His other hand lifted carefully to your face, fingers brushing lightly along your jaw before he kissed you.
Soft at first, almost cautious. Like he was afraid this might vanish beneath him if he pressed too hard.
You felt the quiet sound he made against your mouth more than heard it, something relieved and overwhelmed all at once, like kissing you was simultaneously everything he’d wanted and something he still couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to have. Like it was full of all the things he’d apparently been carrying around silently for months.
You kissed him back harder before you could overthink it.
That finally broke whatever fragile restraint he’d been clinging to.
His hand slid more firmly against your jaw as he pulled you closer, the kiss deepening enough to leave your entire nervous system short-circuiting.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing slightly unevenly.
And in that moment, something in you settled.
Like a piece of yourself had quietly clicked back into place without you realising how off-balance you’d been before.
Dennis seemed to feel it too.
You watched it happen in real time across his face - the way some of the tension permanently lodged in his shoulders eased slightly, the way his thumb brushed unconsciously against the side of your hand like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this now.
Neither of you spoke for a few moments.
Dennis was the one who broke first.
"Wow." He murmured.
A smirk twisted onto your lips. "You said that already."
"I know."
Your smirk widened. "You might need to start preparing notes everytime you kiss me."
Dennis groaned. "I can't believe I told you that."
You giggled, pressing your forehead against his. "Unfortunately you're never living it down." You murmured as you placed another kiss to his lips.
“You know." You said after you pulled away. "Santos is going to be unbearable about this.”
Dennis laughed.
"Yeah no, we're never hearing the end of it."
You smiled.
And for the first time since Javadi's birthday, since the confusion and guilt and impossible choices, everything felt quiet.
"Can I ask you something?" You murmured against his lips.
"Anything."
You're not going to make me shovel horse shit on your farm are you?"
Dennis let out a real laugh, forehead pressed harder against yours.
"Not if you keep kissing me like that."
Your grin widened. "You don't need to tell me twice Whitaker."
-
Two weeks later and things in the pitt had finally started to settle.
The tension that had hung over the department since Javadi's birthday had finally begun to dissipate.
The three of you weren't walking on eggshells anymore.
Things with Frank were still a little awkward. But you were both trying. You could see it in the way he still sought you out on shift. In the way he still made terrible jokes whenever he caught you looking too stressed. In the way neither of you pretended the friendship wasn't worth saving.
You could sometimes feel Dennis’ eyes lingering on the two of you. But you could tell he was trying too, trying to learn to accept it for your sake, which only made you fall for him even harder.
"I approved your leave request."
You glanced over the top of your computer.
Robby sat across from you, the blue glow of his computer reflecting faintly against his glasses as he worked.
"Oh thanks Dr Robby."
"No problem."
His fingers continued to move across the keyboard.
"I noticed Whitaker's taking the same days off." He added after a moment.
Heat flooded your face so quickly it was almost impressive.
"Oh um-"
His lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Relax." He finally glanced at you over his glasses. There was something suspiciously close to amusement in his expression.
"I'm happy for you two."
The embarrassment somehow intensified.
You muttered something completely unintelligible before immediately pretending to be very interested in your charting.
Once you were sure Robby was no longer looking at you, a grin slowly spread across your face at Robby's words.
“You’re smiling at your computer.”
You looked up to find Santos standing beside your desk wearing the most insufferably smug expression you’d ever seen in your life.
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are.” She leant against the desk. “It’s actually disgusting.”
You fought the urge to smile harder, which only made her narrow her eyes further.
“Oh my god.” Santos pressed a dramatic hand to her chest. “You’re gone gone.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
McKay appeared beside her, looking significantly more pleased with herself than any normal person should.
“For the record.” She announced calmly. “I’d like it formally acknowledged that I handled this situation with considerably more emotional maturity than Santos.”
Santos scoffed loudly. “Oh please, I’m the only reason these idiots ever figured anything out.”
“You literally screamed they were both in love with her in a public bathroom.”
“And was I wrong?”
McKay begrudgingly paused.
“… no.”
“Can you two please act normal for like five minutes?”
“Absolutely not.” The answer came immediately and simultaneously.
Before you could respond, movement down the hall caught your attention instinctively.
Dennis.
Your stomach still did that stupid flipping thing every single time you saw him.
He was walking beside Donnie, brows furrowed in concentration while Donnie rambled beside him about something animatedly.
The second Dennis glanced up and spotted you at the nurses station, his entire expression softened automatically.
He shot you a small smile, and then he walked directly into a wheelchair, nearly hard enough to send him toppling to the ground.
Donnie barked out a laugh loud enough to echo down the corridor.
“Oh my god.” Santos whispered reverently beside you. “He’s somehow become even worse around you.”
You watched Dennis straighten quickly, cheeks flushing red as he muttered something defensive at Donnie before looking back toward you.
You were already grinning helplessly.
His embarrassed expression smoothed into a smile of his own.
McKay let out a deeply satisfied sigh beside you. “Nature is healing.”
“You’re both unbearable.”
Dennis finally made his way over a moment later, attempting and failing to look normal under the combined scrutiny of Santos and McKay.
“Hey.” His voice came out slightly softer when he looked at you.
“Hey.”
The word settled warmly between you. Different then it used to, but still easy.
His hand brushed lightly against the small of your back as he stepped around you to get to his own computer.
The touch was fleeting enough that technically nobody could call it inappropriate.
Unfortunately Santos witnessed it anyway.
You flashed her a warning glare. For once, she had the decency to stay quiet. The smug expression on her face suggested she was simply saving her commentary for later.
-
Hours later, after the chaos of shift change finally settled, you found Dennis waiting for you outside the ambulance bay.
The evening air was cool against your skin as you stepped outside, exhaustion pulling at your limbs.
Dennis looked up from his phone immediately when the doors slid open.
And there it was again. That expression. Like seeing you was still the best part of his day.
“You hungry?"
"Always."
You stepped closer until your shoulders brushed.
Then, gently, you hooked your fingers through his.
Dennis immediately relaxed at the touch.
"Robby approved my leave."
"Mine too."
Dennis squeezed your hand lightly as the two of you started walking toward Angelo's together.
“Fair warning." He said after a moment. “You are absolutely shovelling horse shit at least once.”
You faked a gasp.
"You promised."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did." Your eyes narrowed. "You're not an entrepreneur at all Whitaker."
"Oh yeah? What am I then?"
"You're a swindler."
Dennis laughed softly beside you, the sound carrying into the evening air as he placed a kiss to the crown of your head.
And as you walked, you realised that choosing him had never felt like choosing at all.
It felt like fireworks, like you and him against the world.
Like home.
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