Chrysanthos @forget--thyself - Tumblr Blog

ᴹʸ ᴮᵒʸ, ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴿᵉᵈ. ᴬ ᴮᵒʸ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴮˡᵘᵉ

ᶜʰᵖ. ²: ᴾᵉᵗᵉʳ ᴿᵃᵇᵇⁱᵗ

Inspired by Jailer - Kevin Atwater

You and Dennis were best friends. You were more than friends. No one knew; until everyone knew. When your family kicked you out, you thought maybe Dennis would help, he would explain it to them, but he shunned you liked the rest of them. Let you take the blame because Dennis Whitaker could never be gay.

Years later, you find yourself in Pittsburgh. In Pittsburgh, you find Dennis, and his... Boyfriend.

ᶜʰᵖ. ² ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ: After taking a fall installing cabinets for your neighbor, you run into Dennis at the hospital, and a few other people.

TW: Reader gets a injured (shoulder dislocation, and sprained wrist), implied medical neglect from Reader's & Dennis's family (anit-vax, improper bone setting), needles (reader gets an IV)

CW: Reader and Dennis make no progress together, not angsty, but not like not angsty, you know?

Dennis and Reader are 26 present time, Reader got kicked out at 16, so there's a decade time gap. js wanted to put that here

ᶜʰᵖ. ¹ ✶ ᶜʰᵖ. ³

A/N: Yes, Reader does have to know, and be connected to everybody in the Pitt 👺 You're lucky I didn't make him related to somebody /j/lh

“You don’t wanna ride Robby- Ride with… Sorry,” Trinity snorts, glancing at Dennis from the corner of her eye. “You two were hitting it off. Looks like you were finally getting out of the mentoree-zone.”

“Trin, stop,” Dennis huffs, shoving her towards the buildings they pass. She refuses to walk by the street with Dennis; something about ‘the sidewalk rule’, whatever that is. “I’ve gotta make sure your drunk ass doesn’t pass out on the sidewalk, and so Javadi doesn’t wander into the streets.”

“I’m not a puppy,” Victoria whines, trudging slightly in front of Dennis, her hoodie sleeve gripped in his hand. “Do nooooot tell my parents I got this drunk, pleaseee.”

“You’re twenty-one, remember?” Dennis rolls his eyes, pulling her back slightly. “You’re not going to get in trouble.”

“You obviously don’t know them. Doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-one, they’ll still ground me,” she groans, wobbling side-to-side in her stride. “Jus’ take me home.”

“We are taking you home,” Dennis reminds her, tucking her to the side, closer to Trinity.

“No! You can’t take me home, my parents are going to kill me!” Javadi gasps, setting a hand over her mouth, eyes slightly glassy like she hadn’t just said that.

“Our home, Crash. So you can… Crash,” Trinity cackles at her own joke, draping an arm around Javadi, resting their head together as they fumble steps.

“Right, riiiight. That’s good, you guys are the best-est-ist,” she giggles, wrapping an arm around Trinity’s waist.

“I don’t think that’s a word, Vic,” Dennis laughs softly, herding both of the girls into the apartment building, balancing them into the elevator.

“It’s a word if she says it,” Trinity retorts for Javadi, dumping herself on the couch, shortly followed by Victoria who flops on top of her.

“Exactlyyy, Trinny gets it,” Javadi drawls, nodding slowly. “I’m so sleepy,” she whispers, nuzzling against Trinity’s chest, holding her like a giant teddy bear.

“Me too. Let’s go sleepy-time,” Trinity mumbles, petting Javadi’s head. “Wait- wait! Huckleberry! What happened to yer friend? Did you get his number?”

Dennis pauses at the entrance of the hallway, turning back around to face the pair of idiots. “No.. No, he was gone by the time I got out there. Sorry.”

“Aww, that sucks. You think he’ll get hurt and needa come into the ER- AH! That’s horrible to say, sorry,” Jadavi stammers, squealing in shame. “He was nice, we wanted to hang out with him.”

Nice, yeah… That’s you. Nice, sweet, and funny. Even nowadays, apparently. Dennis is happy to know that hasn’t changed any. Despite… Well, everything. “Maybe you guys’ll run into him at some point.”

“Aren’t you sad? You found an old friend, and you lost him again,” Javadi sniffles, lifting her head up to frown at Dennis. “You don’t miss him?”

All the time. He missed you all the time. He hasn’t- not recently, at least. Now, all those feelings have dredged up, floating uncomfortable in the back of his mind. He flicks the lights off, standing in the hall for a few more moments, just until he hears their breathing even out slightly. He can’t wait to have to nurse them back to health tomorrow during shift.

“Ughhhhh, never let me drink again,” Javadi gripes, forehead dropped against her work station. “My head is spinning, and I feel like I need to puke.”

“Welcome to the world of hangovers, Dr. J,” Joy twirls in her chair, looking over at Dennis with a raised brow. “Are you feeling it?”

Dennis peers up from his folder, shaking his head. “Took Advil for the headache, fine otherwise. I didn’t drink as much as those too,” he huffs a quiet laugh, pointing a pen at Javadi, then Trinity who has her head in her hands, sunglasses low on her nose.

“That means you have no excuse to be lolly-gagging, Whitaker,” Robby’s hand lands on his shoulder, giving it a strong squeeze, and a small smirk. “Glad you didn’t go too hard last night, yeah?”

“Y-yes sir- Dr.. Dr. Robby, I’ll get a move on,” Dennis straightens his posture, returning Robby’s smirk with a sly smile, his cheeks heating up slightly. “Yeah, I am. Thanks to you, and your god awful choices in whiskey.”

Robby bumps Dennis, making him smile. He’s glad that everything that happened last night didn’t put him off, or anything. He wonders what Robby thinks of you, however little you guys ended up interacting. Could he tell there was something between you two? Does he care if he did? Does Dennis care if Robby cares?

You stand on a ladder, drill and bag of nails balanced in your hands. Your neighbor had knocked on your door this morning, asking if you could help her install cabinets; you couldn’t say no, you figured it’d do you good to make friends. You also didn’t have anything to do, so… here you are.

“I really appreciate you doing this,” Cassie says, reappearing dressed in scrubs. “My son is coming over this weekend; I’m finally back to fifty-fifty custody with my ex, and I’ve been meaning to get these cabinets installed, but I’ve been so busy with work, so I haven’t been able to get to these. Again, I really appreciate this.”

“Ah, no worries. Work has been… Not busy! So, I’m happy to have something to do,” you laugh awkwardly, blindly reaching down to grab the level. “I’m sort of between jobs, and education, and well… Everything. I needed something to do to keep my mind off it all.” Including last night.

“I get that. It’s crazy around here. I-i could pay you!” She says, walking over, and leaning against the counter. “I don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to get free work just because we’re neighbors.”

“You’re good, I promise. I’m more than happy to do this for you,” you promise, waving a hand through the air. “I’ll try not to be in here too long after you’re gone.”

“Take your time. I’d rather you do then have one of these collapse after one of us tries grabbing a bowl,” she shrugs, putting her hands into her pockets. “Thank you, and if you need anything, feel free to raid the fridge- except for the lunchables, those are for Harrison.”

“Is Harrison your son? Or the ex?” You question, looking back at her with a grin.

The stool wobbles beneath you, and the locking mechanism caves, sending you tumbling. Cassie gasps, hands held out in front of her like she can stop you from falling with The Force. You hear a pop from your shoulder, and pain shoots up your wrist.

“Shit, are you okay?” She asks, grabbing you by the bad arm, making you yelp.

“Fine,” you say, recoiling from her touch. Your good arm grabs the one you landed on, wincing as you press on it. “Just sore, I think.”

“I heard a pop, I think you should probably come with me to work,” she insists, helping you up. Cassie brushes cabinet dust from your shirt, grimacing slightly.

“I promised to do the cabinets for no charge. I’m not doing hospital work for free,” you joke, gently pushing her off. Obviously, her mother-henning runs strong.

“I mean to get checked out, silly. I think you dislocated your shoulder, at the very least,” Cassie tells you, herding you out the front door. “Let’s goooo.”

“What about the cabinets?” You question, stumbling along as she pushes you. “I can’t fix them for you if I’m in the hospital.”

“Cabinets, shmabinets,” she dismisses, weaving through the parking lot with you in tow.

Begrudgingly, you get in the passenger seat, sitting there silently the entire drive. Cassie tries to initiate conversation, and you try to keep it going, but it keeps falling flat. She clearly feels guilty, and you… feel weird about this entire thing.

“McKay! Who’s your friend?” An older blonde lady with a Pittsburghen accent asks. “New boyfriend?.. New kid?”

“None of the above,” Cassie cackles, bringing you over to the desk. “This is my neighbor, he was installing cabinets for me, I distracted him, and he fell off the ladder. I think he dislocated his shoulder.”

“Well, find him a bed, get him fixed up” she jabs a pen over her shoulder down a corridor. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Dr. McKay will get you fixed up in a hurry, and you’ll be out in two shakes… And a half, maybe,” she addresses you, smiling tightly, though not without kindness.

The bed you sit on is firm, and the paper crinkles under your butt. You sit on the edge of the bed, peeling off your hoodie with a deep groan. Your shoulder screams at you, and your wrist aches. “Do you need me to take my shirt off?”

“No, you can keep it on. Now, I’m going to press on your arm, tell me when it feels tender,” Cassie orders, snapping gloves onto her hands, approaching calmly.

“Dr. McKay! Can you come help Trauma one?” Somebody bursts in, pulling the curtain aside. “It’s urgent, sorry.”

“It’s fine, go. I’m not dying,” you assure her, nudging her towards the door. She happily takes the cue, getting out the door.

“Oh! Langdon, could you help my friend there? Probable shoulder dislo, possible wrist frac,” Cassie tells someone just outside of your purview.

Shortly after, a man swerves into the room, smiling politely at you. “Hi, I’m Dr. Frank Langdon, do you mind if I take a look at your arm?”

“No, go for it, Dr. Frank Langdon,” you confirm with a nod, pressing fingers against your shoulder stupidly.

Frank laughs, hair flopping slightly. “Just Dr. Langdon is fine, or Dr. Frank,” he says, rolling forward in his stool. “You mind if I..?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, exhaling slowly, then inhaling deeply when he presses his palm against the back of your shoulder blade, and the side. “Mother.. Of Je-..”

“Definitely dislocated,” he mumbles, looking up at you. “How far did you fall?”

“Uhm… Four feet, maybe five? I was on a stepstool installing cabinets,” you explain, head tilting back slightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Did you hit your head?” Frank asks, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I caught myself with my arm. Hence the shoulder, and my wrist,” you tell him, flexing your wrist for him.

“Not that it’s impossible, but it’s not common to dislocate anything with such a short fall,” he says, grabbing your arm gently, squeezing it with two fingers, slowly working down until your face scrunches up. “I’m going to order you an x-ray, just to make sure it isn’t broken, and some morphine to help with the pain.”

“I’ve dislocated it before… If that changes anything,” you inform him, watching him move about the room.

“Thaaat.. Does change things, actually. After you dislocate your shoulder once, it’s a lot easier to do it again,” he explains, setting up an IV beside you. “I’m going to get a morphine drip started for you, and once that kicks in, we can get your shoulder popped back in, and an x-ray for your wrist.”

“Okay.” You nod, grimacing at the needle. You’ve never been great with needles. “Do you know how long that should take?”

“The morphine will take anywhere from five to ten minutes to kick in, and I can pop your shoulder back in a jiffy… X-rays may take a little longer- pinprick,” he warns, setting the IV in place. “We’re pretty busy today.”

“From what I understood last night, you guys are always busy,” you mumble, earning a weird look from Frank.

Frank leaves you to yourself, thankfully you aren’t left alone with your thoughts. It’s loud in here: machines, screaming from patients and doctors, a million people running back and forth. It’s hard to hear in here, let alone think. Your fingers tap against your knee, counting the rhythm of whatever is beeping.

Somebody stops in front of you, notepad up to her nose. “Hi! Dr. McKay asked me to come check on youuu--” The woman looks up, face breaking into a smile. “It’s you! Hi, we met last night!”

“Javadi, yes, hi!” You cheer, smiling back at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible,” she laughs, taking the rolling stool Dr. Langdon left, spinning to your bedside. “How are you? W-why are you here?”

“I fell helping Cassie--or Dr. McKay, you said?--install cabinets,” you tell her, slowly leaning back on the bed.

“Oh no, that sucks. It’s cool that you were helping her install cabinets!” Javadi says, looking you over with doctoral scrutiny. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Before I forget, I neeeed your number, and I’ll give it to Trinity- and Dennis!”

Dennis. Right. He’ll so obviously want your number because he’s your friend. Your friend. You wish. “Here,” you take her phone which she’s been dangling about, inputting your number.

“You’re the best, I’ll talk to you later,” she sing-songs, grabbing your shoulder in excitement. “Ah! I am so sorry. Shouldn’t have done that, I need to go. I hope you feel better!”

At the very least, the pain meds have kicked in… That’s good. You rest your head back, shutting your eyes to try and-

“You know Dr. Javadi?” Frank reappears, snapping gloves on. “Has the morphine kicked in yet?”

“Based on the fact that I hardly felt anything when Javadi grabbed me? I’ll say yes,” you confirm, bending your arm at the elbow. “And I met her last night at some club.”

“Oh… Yeah, some of the day shift went out last night,” he hums, firmly gripping your upper arm.

“You weren’t invited?” You ask, warily allowing him to move your arm. There’s still a twinge, but it’s so much more bearable.

“I was, but just because you get invited to something doesn’t mean you’re exactly welcome,” Frank laughs awkwardly, pushing your shoulder right back into socket.

“Mother--” You hiss, knee jerking up. The pain is gone quickly, followed by relief. “O-ho.. Phew.”

“Better?” He asks with a smirk, head tilting slightly. “Sorry, I didn't want you tensing up. Had to take you by surprise.”

“Had too?” You grimace, though there’s no actual annoyance behind it. You can’t blame him.

“Had too,” he promises with a laugh, poking his fingers along your shoulder. “Now we’re going to get you an x-ray to make sure your wrist isn’t broken.”

After the x-ray, Dr. Langdon disappears again, so you lay back down. The bed next to you receives a new patient, and: “Hi, sir. My name is Dr. Whitaker, and these are student doctors Ogilvie and Joy, we’ll be helping you out today.”

His back is turned to you, thankfully. You watch Dennis closely, listening to him go through the same questions Dr. Langdon did with you. It’s like it’s second nature for him… You suppose maybe it is. You’ve never seen him so sure of anything, even on his family’s farm.

Obviously, he knew how to do things, and there were even a few things he enjoyed, but never like this. He’s confident. That’s new. Dennis asks a few more questions before patting his student doctors on the shoulder, disappearing around the corner without a glance back.

“Alrighty!”

Dr. Langdon’s voice startles you out of your tunnel vision, head whipping back straight. “Back already?”

“Yep, Dr. McKay asked me to make sure you’re not stuck in here all day,” Frank says, wheeling the computer closer. “So your wrist is fine, but…” He trails off, biting the inside of his lip.

“But?” You repeat, preparing for whatever he’s about to tell you. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Aha, not quite, this is your x-ray, right?” He brings up an image of what you can only assume is your arm. “These two are a little.. Crooked,” he says, pointing at the two bones, “this is the ulna, and this one is the radius; they’re both supposed to be practically straight lines. Yours aren’t. Were you aware of this? Oooor…? Any idea what it’s from?”

You lean in, and there is, in fact, a slight crick in your arm. “I… I, jeez, broke my arm as a kid. I was eleven, startled one of our horses and the dumbass reared. It was just a foal, thankfully. Still broke my arm damn near in half.”

“You didn’t--may I?” He gestures at your arm, turning it back and forth, “You didn’t get a cast, or anything?”

“No, I did,” you affirm, groaning quietly. “Just… Modern medicine isn’t super modern back home. Small town, even smaller medical system- had one doctor… We had more vets than doctors; he was one of them.”

“Glad he didn’t put you down then,” Frank jests, adjusting a brace. “Since you usually put down horses if they break their legs?… Dad joke, sorry,” he snorts, velcroing the brace onto your wrist. “So… Doctor-vet.. Where are you from?”

“I got that. The joke was funny; I liked it.” You tell him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I’m from Nebraska.”

“Oh, you might know--”

Dennis taps his pockets, huffing in annoyance when he realizes he doesn’t have his notepad. He must’ve left it with Mr. Gold. When he goes around the corner, he’s shocked to see you in the bed beside Mr. Gold, laughing with Dr. Langdon of all people. He says your name quietly, earning the attention of both of you.

“Dr. Whitaker! We were just about to talk about you,” Frank says, looking all too happy in Dennis’s opinion. “And you just answered my question, actually. You mind reader, you.”

“Right… And what’s happened here?” Dennis asks, looking at your braced wrist pointedly- or more so Frank’s hand gently touching your arm.

“I fell.” You tell him, staring right at him. “And Dr. Langdon was just telling me about my x-ray results. My arm is apparently crooked from when Peter kicked me.”

“Your horse’s name was Peter?” Dr. Langdon asks you with an amused smile that grates on Dennis’s nerves for some reason.

“After Peter Rabbit.” He answers for you; you guys named the horse together after reading Peter Rabbit at school. “He hated you.” Dennis recalls quietly, biting his lip.

“Probably because you named him after a rabbit,” Frank snickers, looking between the two of you; Dennis can’t tell if Frank is being entirely ignorant to the room, or if he’s actively ignoring it.

“Yeaaah, he really did hate me. Kicking me wasn’t even the worst thing he did to me,” you tell Frank. Frank. You don’t even bother acknowledging Dennis. Which is rude, in his opinion. He’s standing right in front of you.

“Remember when he bit you?” Dennis extends the olive branch, trying to spark any sort of conversation between you and him. “You wanted to take me out on a ride, and when you went to put the saddle on, he chomped right down… I cried so much, I got sick thinking you’d get rabies. You laughed at me so hard, you got sick.”

You do remember it, you’ve got the scar right by your elbow to prove it. You also remember Dennis worrying himself sick, and your cackling that startled Peter and sent him galloping away, saddle still half on him. It only made you laugh harder, and it drew watery giggles from Dennis. You remember the way the morning sun hit his glassy eyes, and the small smile on his lips.

You remember the way your heart skipped twice for the first of many times looking at him that day. You blamed it on the anxiety of having to tell your parents that Peter ran off; you found him in a field of wildgrass just before sunset.

“Yeah, I remember.” You mumble, moving your gaze from Dr. Langdon to Dennis. The fluorescent lighting glares against his eyes, casting a shadow, and deepening the blue shade of them. “Why’d you bring it up?”

“B-because.. I don't know! We were talking about Peter, it’s just something I think about,” Dennis shrugs, face scrunching up like you just accused him of something heinous. “When I think about Peter! It’s something I think about when in.. When in correlation with Peter.”

You and Dennis hold eye contact, the beeping and voices around you fading to a low buzz. He thinks it- when he thinks of Peter, obviously. Does he think about Peter often? Does he think of you often too?

“Right! So a horse named after a rabbit. Crazy, I got my kids a goldendoodle that they named goldfish,” Frank claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Kids and their wacky names for animals, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh politely, scratching the back of your neck. “… Am I good to go?” You ask, shifting around on the bed.

“So eager to get away from this place, huh?” Frank teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Yeah, you’re good to go. I’ll go grab your discharge papers. Keep our friend company, Dr. Whitaker?”

“Sure,” Dennis grits out, eyes following Frank as he walks off again. They land on you again, and you feel like sinking into the bed. “Are you okay?”

The question hits you sideways, tilting the axis on your train of thoughts. He’s asked you the question so many times before, but the clinical detachment throws you. He sounds like a doctor: polite, and even kind, but distant. Strangers passing each other in greeting.

“I’m--”

“Dr. Whitaker,” a voice draws out his name, and the man from last night sets a hand on Dennis’s shoulder. “Are you too busy?… We could use your help in Trauma Two.”

Dennis’s eyes brighten, his tight-lipped smile shifting to reveal his canines. “No, I’m not busy, this is Dr. Langdon’s patient.”

“Aaand your friend! From last night, right? Hello again.” The smile Robby gives you seems sincerer than Dennis’s, and it’s… Grating. “How are you doing? What brought you in?”

“I fell.”

“He fell.”

“‘He fell’, got it,” Robby repeats to you both with a laugh, squeezing Dennis’s shoulder. “I’m glad it wasn’t something serious. You don’t mind if I take Dennis along with me, right?”

“He’s all yours,” you concur, head dipping to avoid eye contact with either of them. Dennis is, in fact, all Robby’s. “Dennis?…”

Dennis pauses abruptly, making Robby’s hand fall from his shoulder. His eyes are slightly wide, waiting for you to finish. “Yeah?”

“How’s Peter?”

The horse. You’re asking him about the horse… Of course. “Still kicking- the last time I was at home, at least. O-or not at least, I don’t know why I said it like that. He’s only sixteen. He’s got a few hateful years left in him.”

The last time Dennis was in Nebraska was four years ago. His parents somehow guilt tripped him into travelling home for Christmas. His family spent it with yours, like always. All Dennis noticed was an empty spot on the mantle in your house. When he snuck to the stables sometime after the fathers were a few drinks in, he found Peter curled into the corner, nickering at a blanket you’d gotten him.

He’d realized maybe Peter missed you. He realized he missed you too. He’s since then refused to go home for Christmas. Dennis frowns slightly before shaking his head, physically snapping himself away from the memory to go catch up with Dr. Robby.

“Was wondering when you two were going to join us,” Trinity smiles upon their entrance to Trauma Two. “Open head wound, and major road rash. Probably a few broken ribs.”

“Car vee pedestrian?” Dennis inquires, snapping on gloves as he approaches the unresponsive patient who seems overly dressed for anything, ever.

“No, no, get this: dude was riding a horse. I think he’s Amish,” she cackles, pulling the guy's eyelids open. “Equal and reactive, so good news. Maybe you’re related, Huckleberry. You know, Amish people.”

“I’m not Amish,” Dennis scoffs at her, glowering at her. He’s not Amish, or Mormon, or a virgin! Not that the last one is related, but still! “I was raised Protestant,” he mumbles, the cross on his neck warm against his skin, sweat prickling his skin.

“Yes, yes, I know. Not catholic, not christian, protestant,” Trinity rolls her eyes, more focused on jabbing at Dennis then what she really should be. “It’s all the same god, so… Neener neener.”

“You’re so mature.” Dennis very maturely, and professionally pulls a face at Trinity.

“Well, that is what your mother told me last night,” she retorts, wiggling her eyebrows to suggest lewdness. “After she hopped on my shit crazy style, obviously.”

“I don’t want to know who hops on your what, ever. Like at all. I already know too much about aaaall of that,” Dennis grumbles at her, shuddering at the many times he’s overheard, and overseen Trinity with Dr. Garcia, and more lately, Dr. Ellis. Which Dennis can’t complain about.

“Maybe if you were getting laid more often--”

“I do get laid, I just have the decency not to do it in our thin-walled apartment!”

“Dr. Whitaker.. Dr. Santos, maybe have this spat outside of this moment?” Robby suggests, but Dennis swears the tips of his ears are red.

Dennis smirks, poking the tip of his tongue out, “Yes, Dr. Robby. Understood,” Dennis nods, playfully bumping against Robby. “We’re not in trouble, are we?”

“Tck, watch it, Dr. Whitaker,” Robby tuts, doing nothing to help Dennis focus on the patient. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Robby whispers to him, leaning over his shoulder to ‘attend’.

“Yo, homos, patient’s waking up,” Trinity barks, pulling a knowing face. “Sir, my name is Dr. Santos, you’re at the PTMC. You had a little accident.”

“A-am I dying?” The man stammers, panickily trying to clutch his chest. “What happened?”

“Your horse threw you, and no, you’re not dying,” Dr. Robby steps in, using his firm, undeniable voice to assure the patient. “You’ve got a few staples in your head, and a few broken ribs, though.”

“You didn’t give me any vaccines, did you? I don’t care about anything else, I just can’t get any vaccines,” he says, voice raising alongside his heartrate. “I can’t do vaccines, they’ll give me cancer, or autism.”

“I.. uhm… Actually, no vaccine is proven to cause either of those,” Dennis says, feeling his skin crawl with an uncomfortable sense of deja vu. He swears he’s heard the exact same thing from his parents: vaccines, autism, cancer, against God. “You wouldn’t be given vaccines for injuries anyway, you’d be given antibiotics.”

“Yeah, well,” the man huffs and puffs, unable to finish his sentence. “Just don’t be giving me any vaccines.”

“We won’t.” Dennis rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth. Like his parents, he can’t try to convince them to vaccinate for anything.

Dennis exhales slowly as the trauma is steady, ready to wait for a few hours to go up to neurology. He flicks his gloves into an open can, clasping his hands behind his head. “I don’t get it,” he says as he drops into his chair again. “People who are against vaccines. It’s just.. Ugh.”

“Me neither… Granted I had like eh-vah-ry vaccine under the sun by the time I was two,” Javadi shrugs, busy editing videos on her phone. “Doctor parents doing doctor-y parent things, you know?”

“… Not really,” Dennis admits, rolling his neck. “I was twenty the first time I finally got vaccinated. I couldn’t afford it before then, but they provided vaccines before my first rotation.”

Javadi slowly sets her phone down, an awkward smile on her lips. The one that screams ‘I just put a foot in my mouth, didn’t I?’ “Riiiight. That sucks… Uhmm… Yeah, no. Crazy. Religious nuts, am I right?”

“You are right. It’s stupid; I don’t understand it, and I was raised that way. The medical neglect is literally batshit,” he throws his hands up, smacking them onto his cheeks. “Seriously, he’s got a fucking crooked arm because of them.”

“Who’s got a crooked arm because of who?” Javadi’s owlish eyes sparkle with confusion, blinking slowly at Dennis.

Dennis pauses, brain trying to catch up with what Javadi just asked, and what he said to begin with… You, he’s talking about you. He mumbles your name like that explains it all, waving behind him in the direction you were in. He should go check over there on you- Mr. Gold. Not you.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Javadi, meandering over to beds.

Dennis rubs his left shoulder, rubbing out knots from the muscle. Dennis stands between the empty beds, lips pursed slightly. Langdon got you discharged like he promised… Shocking. Ogilvie must’ve gotten Mr. Gold. He’s not going to complain about that.

“I sent your friend home, he was all good, man. I think he’s talking with McKay, though!” Langdon manifests at his side, politely smiling at him. “He’s really nice, I like him. And I can definitely see why you like him.”

“W-what?” How can Langdon see anything about you? Why does he care? Dennis’s ‘like’ of you is none of Frank’s business. “I don’t… What?”

“The way you looked at him,” Frank laughs, raising his hands in surrender to Dennis’s defensiveness. “It’s how I used to look at Abby… Back when we first got together, when I was too scared to approach her because I just thought she was sooo beautiful.. Maybe I should’ve looked at her like that more often.” Oh, woe is Frank Langdon with his divorce.

“No, no. I’m not--” I’m not gay. He is, though, and he’s out about it. He takes pride in it. “He’s not… I don’t like him like that, we haven’t seen each other in a decade. I doubt he even considers me a friend… I wouldn’t.”

“What’d you do?” Frank asks, clearly trying to initiate some sort of banter that Dennis couldn’t care less about reciprocating. “There’s always something… Like buying a goldendoodle for a kid that can’t make his own breakfast.”

Dennis gives Frank a blank look, unamused by his joke. “I’m not your therapist… So save your marriage problems for your counselor,” he grumbles, shuffling away from Frank.

“I wasn’t… Sorry, just trying to connect, you know?” Frank laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Relationship trouble bonding, and all that.”

“I’m not having relationship troubles, there is no relationship,” Dennis scoffs defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so pissy at Langdon, all he’s doing is talking about you. “He’s a friend from forever ago. He left town. That’s the end of it, and our friendship.”

“The one who got away, huh?”

The one he let get away, maybe.

“I’m getting away. Goodbye, Dr. Langdon,” Dennis shakes his head, disappearing to the hub.

Dennis jerks to a stop when he hears your laugh, soft and bright. You’re propped next to Dr. McKay, and Javadi, laughing at whatever was just said. You look annoyingly relaxed for someone who’s in the ER. He slowly comes up, trying to creep in and out without being noticed.

“I can’t believe you and Dr. McKay are neighbors, that’s so crazy! You can come to game night this weekend!” Victoria smiles, scribbling on her notepad. “Are you heading home?”

Game night… You’ve been to a few with strangers or acquaintances , it’s not a foreign concept. With people you consider friends? A little more baffling. Can you even consider Victoria, and Cassie friends? You think they consider you friends, or at least Victoria does. She’s nice, you like her. You know Dennis likes her too. They’re all friends; Trinity is even his roommate, according to Victoria.

“That’d be cool, and yeah, I’m going to head back to my apartment. Just gotcha figure out if I want to call an uber, or if I’m walking,” you click your tongue, rolling out your nerves through your neck.

“Beeecause I drove you here, riiiight… I can pay for your uber if you need me to,” Cassie laughs, her smile brightening her entire face.

“You’re good. I’m probably going to walk around town anyway. I hate being cooped up in the apartment,” you wave her off. “I could always finish those cabinets for you, if you don’t mind me being in the apartment alone.”

“You are not finishing those cabinets,” she squawks, lightly swatting you on the back of the head. “Doctor’s orders. Are you sure I can’t get you a ride home?”

“Blah,” you squint at her, annoyingly endeared by the head slap. “I’m sure, you don’t need to spend the money on me,” you assure, gingerly setting a hand on her arm to give it a squeeze.

You really don’t want to be back at the apartment; it’s… empty, lifeless, just the place you sleep. The city is better, overwhelming in a good way, or at the very least it’s not silent. It’s the silence that always gets you, the kind that bounces off undecorated walls, and rings in your ears.

Cassie and Victoria get pulled to different places, so you decide it’s time to take your leave. You speedwalk through the area you were brought to, keeping your head down to avoid eye contact with anybody. You collide with a solid wall that you quickly realize is a warm body, and not just a randomly placed podium of plaster. Warm, calloused hands grab your arms, keeping you steady.

“Shit, sorry, Dr…” You see the concern in his eyes as you look up to see who you just ran into, just as you see the recognition harden them quickly after. “Dennis. D-dr. Dennis- Whitaker. Dr. Whitaker.”

“‘Dennis’ is fine. I wasn’t treating you,” he mumbles, thumbs pressing into your upper arm before he seemingly realizes what he’s doing, retracting his hands like your shirt’s burst into flames. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, leaving. Didn’t figure I should stick around if I’m fine, this place seems crowded as is.” You say, discretely gesturing at the people lining the halls. “Dr. Langdon discharged me.”

“Right, yeah, no, yeah. Obviously,” Dennis nods his head several times, making the curls at the base of his neck bounce; he grew his hair out. That’s the first time you’ve actually realized that… “So… You know Dr. McKay?”

“Sort of, I live in the apartment next to her,” you explain, flexing your fingers in the brace. “She asked me for a favor this morning; she was the one that brought me to the hospital, aha.”

“I know- No, I.. uhm… I heard.” Dennis looks awkward when he admits that, lips drawing into a thin line. “Not that I was eavesdropping, or anything, I just.. You know… Was passing by. You guys were talking, I was hearing. I heard. You need a ride. Do you need a ride? I have a friend I can call.”

“I’m good, thank you. Like I told Cassie, and Victoria, I’m going to walk around town some,” you tell him; you’re not going to make Dennis call a friend to take you home. That’d be weird.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re still on morphine, you should probably rest,” Dennis not so discreetly argues, brows furrowing slightly.

“I’m fine, Dennis.”

“You need rest.”

“I sprained my wrist.”

“You--”

Dennis slaps his hands over his mouth, dragging them down his mouth. You’re as stubborn as ever. At least that hasn’t changed. You’re on morphine, you can’t ‘walk around town’; god forbid you get loopy, and smacked by a car trying to cross the street.

“You.. You can’t.” He groans, running his fingers up, and through his mullet. “Go home.”

“You gonna drive me there, and drop me off a block away, so nobody sees?” You ask, and Dennis freezes.

You’re right. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering. He doesn’t need to drive you home, or even care, so he won’t. He doesn’t.

“… Fine. Have fun downtown.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

Dennis exhales sharply as you swerve around him, taking what he finds to be an incredibly dramatic step around him to make sure you don’t collide with him again. Trinity appears at his side, smacking her hand down onto his shoulder, physically forcing his body away from the direction you just went.

“Are you excited to hang out with him on Sunday? He’s coming to game night at McKay’s!”

Dennis’s heart stops, just for a moment, pausing before it kicks into high gear. “What?”

Ten years. He hasn’t seen you in ten years, and now, suddenly, you’re invading every nook and cranny he has left to fill in. Game night of all things. “… Can’t wait.”

“Hey you guys, come in!”

Cassie holds the door wide for Dennis and Trinity to come in; Dennis can hear Harrison’s laughter coming from the kitchen. Javadi must’ve gotten here a little early, she always makes him laugh- sometimes on purpose!

“Hold the door!”

Javadi’s voice comes from not the kitchen, and as the three of them step into the apartment, you’re there. Harrison is doubled over, and you’re smiling so brightly it twinkles in Cassie’s kitchen lights. Dennis suddenly feels a little sick- at the change in lighting. He hasn’t eaten all day.

“Is Mateo going to be here?” Harrison jumps from his chair, coming over to swing his arms around Javadi, who stiffens in embarrassment.

“He’s working the night shift, so not tonight,” Javadi awkwardly pats his head, trying to peel the teenage boy off of her.

“Aw,” Harrison pouts, quickly returning to your side in the kitchen, grabbing you, and pulling you into the hallway to join the group. “At least we have a replacement!”

“Careful, careful.” Dennis watches your shoulders draw up to your ears, face scrunching slightly. “But I’m happy to be here, dude.”

Your shoulder must still be sore, he figures. Dennis hovers behind the group as they huddle into the living room, Trinity and Harrison already arguing about what to play first because Harrison isn’t the only child in the room. They both whip over to you, shoving their choices into your face for decision because ‘new guy should get to decide’.

Dennis laughs softly as you stare at them both awkwardly, eyes darting between the catty pair then Javadi, McKay, before landing on him. Dennis stops laughing, stuck staring back at you. “Don’t pick Trinity’s game; she only picks it because she always wins that one,” he suggests, moving into the living room to punch Trinity’s shoulder, which she does back.

“So not true,” she gripes, tossing the board game away with amusement thinly veiled as begrudgement.

“So very true,” Dennis retorts back, sticking his tongue out at her.

Game night goes from ten to a hundred incredibly quickly. You figured that picking Harrison’s game would be a little more chill, but three rounds in, and you’d think that WW3 was happening in the apartment. Victoria is busy scheming with Cassie, Trinity is plotting everyone’s downfall, and Dennis is quiet, squinting at his cards in concentration.

Six and a half games, several snack breaks, and a very dramatic cheating argument between mother and son later, everyone decided it was time to chill with a movie. You sit in front of Cassie, on the floor, head resting against the arm of the couch. Your face is focused on the TV, but your thoughts drift slightly.

Tonight was fun, actually fun. You’ve never had a game night like tonight: a family game night. Or family game night, and Dennis- who shockingly dominated most of the night, it was entertaining to see. You wonder if Trinity was the one telling the truth early about her game.

Cassie’s snores wake you, and it takes you a moment to recognize the fact that everyone must’ve passed out during the movie. You get up as quietly as possible, extracting your shoulder from someone's leg hook. The light from the tv illuminates the room just enough, allowing you out of the living room without stepping on stray limbs or game pieces.

The kitchen is much less lit, so you’re stuck blindly tapping the counter to try and find your keys. You’re too busy trying to find your keys, you don’t notice someone sneaking into the kitchen until they pull the fridge open, spilling light across the counters. You freeze when they look up at you, and they freeze too.

Dennis looks incredibly guilty, hand half into the fridge like a kid being caught sneaking into the cookie jar. He straightens back up, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m just getting a drink.”

“Oh… Kay?” You grimace slightly, managing to snag hold of your keys at last. “I’m not going to stop you, or anything.”

“You’re leaving?” He asks, eyes drawn to the jingling keys.

“I’m going back to my apartment, next door, remember?” You laugh softly, jutting your head at the door. “Figured I’d get out of everyone’s hair.”

“Pretty sure Trinity was the one in your hair,” he points out, dimly illuminated by the fridge he still hasn’t closed. The light glows blue around him, softening his edges. “You’re not going to stick around until morning? McKay is probably going to make pancakes.”

“Not tonight,” you whisper.

“Okay.”

Neither of you move, just for a second, then the fridge starts beeping, clearly annoyed Dennis has left it open so long. He startles, shutting the door, and you take the moment to head to the front door. Dennis calls your name as you twist the door handle.

“Did you have fun, at least?”

“… Yeah, I did.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too, Dennis… Me too.”

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