scrub off well
summary: dr whitaker thinks he has a pretty good handle on his crush on you, until he sees you out of your scrubs for the first time.
pairing: fem!reader x dennis whitaker
warnings/tags: dennis being the little nervous cutie that he is, alcohol consumption, flirting, fluff, swearing, usual medical descriptions that you'd expect from the pitt!
notes: i can't believe it's taken me this long to write for the pitt, I love it sm <3
likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!
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Growing up on a farm, Dennis Whitaker learnt early on the benefits of effectively compartmentalising things.
Like a flick of a switch, he could shut off one part of his brain when he went into work and could switch it back on when he stepped out of the PTMC doors.
It was a skill that served him well as an ER resident. A place where you were literally in sink or swim, life or death situations for 12 hours straight.
Steady hands, steady voice, steady mind. No matter how intense things got, how quickly he needed to react, he handled it.
Which is why his very manageable, very under-control crush on you had never been a problem.
He wasn't completely unaffected of course, he wasn't a total robot.
His heart rate still picked up when you smiled at him from across the pitt, his eyes sometimes lingered just a touch too long when you laughed, his pulse thrummed in his ears when you teased him and said his name coyly - Whitaker - like you knew just how much of an effect you had on him.
He noticed little things too, like the way you pushed your hair back with your wrist when you were gloved up and stressed, how you would bite your lip when you were locked in on charting, or the way you would anonymously (or at least thought you did) leave snacks in the break room for your colleagues.
But it was fine.
You and your radiant smile were completely compartmentalised.
Filed neatly away under do not open - things that will get me fired or someone killed or both if I think about it at work.
Until tonight.
Javadi's 21st birthday - organised by Princess, Perlah and Dana despite her weeks of protesting against it.
He almost hadn't come.
The clinical side of his brain warned him that mixing coworkers with alcohol and personal time was a bad move - teetering way too close to the 'friend' sphere - which would make it all the more harder for him to engage his compartmentalisation switch.
"You literally live with me, I think that ship has sailed Huckleberry." Santos had remarked when he'd confided in her about his doubts.
Amy had texted him that afternoon asking him if he was coming up to the farm. His thumbs had hovered over his phone, willing up the courage to text Javadi to say he wasn't going to be able to make it.
Then, his phone buzzed.
His heart leapt.
A message from you that simply read:
You're coming tonight, right?
An hour later, he was walking to the bar with Santos, trying to keep any thoughts of you shoved firmly in your assigned compartment.
When he stepped inside, he spotted the group instantly. Milling around in a corner clustered around a bunch of high tables, a set of slightly deflated pink balloons numbered '21' floating half heartedly above them.
A chorus of greetings met them as they approached. Dennis tried not to think about how weird it was to see everyone out of uniform, glowing in that post-shift, one drink in kind of buzz.
"Drink?" Santos turned to him.
He nodded, suddenly eager to be on the same level as his colleagues. They had just made their way to the bar when a set of wolf whistles and cheers erupted from their area.
"Watch out Pittsburgh!"
He turned to locate the source of their ruckus.
And then everything - every neatly labelled, meticulously stored thought - came crashing down around him.
You were not in scrubs.
Logically he had known that would be the case. People did not wear scrubs to bars. You were not going to be an exception. He had psyched himself up for this exact sight on the walk over.
But seeing it in person was something he could never have prepared himself for.
Your hair was down and styled, not tied back in that purely practical way he had grown so used to. Your makeup sculpted your features in a way that made you look even more angelic than usual.
Your outfit fit your body perfectly, hugging you in places and curves he had never dared to let himself think about, had trained himself very deliberately never to follow.
He found himself silently thanking the inventor of scrubs for designing them to be so baggy, because if this is how you looked all the time - he wouldn't be able to control himself.
Heck, who was he kidding, how was he ever going to control himself again now that he'd seen you like this?
He watched as you crossed the crowded bar, oblivious to the hungry looks of random men that you passed. A huge grin was on your face as you twirled around to show off your outfit to the group, causing another huge bout of cheers.
There was no clipped efficiency, no fluorescent lighting washing you out, no neat, clinical version he could pretend was easier to ignore.
This was what everyone else outside of the pitt had the privilege of seeing.
It felt almost wrong, like he was seeing a version of you that he hadn't been cleared access for.
"You might want to put your tongue back in your mouth Fuckleberry."
Dennis' cheeks bloomed violent red.
"W-what?" He stammered, finally tearing his eyes away from you.
"Trust me, I have eyes too. I get it." Santos continued, her gaze flickering over to you. "But she is so out of your league."
He huffed. "Gee thanks. Want to tell me something I don't know?" He grumbled before pressing his drink to his lips and downing it in one go.
"Atta boy Fuckleberry." Santos slapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically. "Drown your sorrows with me."
"Why, Garcia not paying you enough attention?"
Santos shot him a glare. "Watch it or-" She cut herself off as she glanced over Whittaker's shoulder.
"Oh shit - incoming."
Dennis turned to see you making your way towards the bar.
"I gotta pee, good luck farmboy." Before he could protest, Santos pushed off the bar and disappeared into the crowd.
By the time he turned back around, you had spotted him.
Your smile widened when you locked eyes.
You slipped through the crowd toward him like it was the most casual thing in the world, like you hadn’t just fundamentally altered his understanding of reality.
"Whitaker!" You called out by way of greeting.
God. It was somehow even worse outside the pitt.
"I was worried you were going to bail." You teased as you slid in beside him at the bar. You were so close he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of mascara painting your lashes, the pink sheen of your lip gloss.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He cleared his throat, motioning for the bartender to try and stop the red from creeping back into his cheeks. "Yeah. I um- yeah. Do you want something to drink?"
Smooth.
"Please, I'll have whatever you're having."
You leant an arm against the bar, angling your body towards him. You tilted your head slightly, your eyes roaming his body as he ordered for you in a way that made his pulse trip over itself.
And then you grinned.
"You know, you scrub off quite well Whitaker."
Dennis was pretty sure there was a full, tangible moment where his brain fully short-circuited.
You had to be teasing him, surely. You'd probably made the same joke to every single one of his colleagues, who had all probably laughed in a way that only you could illicit from them.
He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's uh.. that's not how that phrase usually goes."
"I know." You said easily. "I'm reinventing it."
"Right."
"I have a theory." You continued. He watched as you twisted around, pressing your back into the wooden edge of the bar.
"You either look way better in scrubs or way better out of scrubs, there's no in between."
You gestured to your table.
"Take Robby for example, can you imagine that man in anything other than scrubs? I saw him out on a run once and I can confirm, it was disturbing."
Dennis let out a genuine chuckle at that.
"Ok, I like this game." He nodded, feeling himself relax slightly without being under your intense gaze. "Javadi's an out of scrubs for sure."
Your grin widened at his willingness to go along with it. "Exactly. I never thought I'd see her part with that purple sweater."
Dennis laughed again, watching out of the corner of his eye at the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled.
"So uh- which one am I then?" He asked sheepishly just as the bartender plonked your drinks down on the sticky surface.
You grabbed your drink before you turned your attention back to him. You took a sip from your straw as your eyes flitted up and down his figure, a smirk forming on your lips.
"I haven't decided yet."
Dennis gulped.
"Thanks for the drink Whitaker."
He watched helplessly as you walked away.
All composure and restraint had flown out the window. He was a man completely undone, like putty in your gentle hands.
"What did I miss?" Santos reappeared at his side, surveying the dance floor with eagle eyes.
"She... she said I scrub off quite well." He murmured, his eyes never leaving your figure as you animatedly chatted with Mohan.
"Huh?"
"She said everyone either suits scrubs or normal clothes more, so I asked her which one I was."
"And?"
"She said she hadn't decided yet."
Santos looked over at him in disbelief. "Oh my fucking god."
Dennis' neck snapped to look at her. "What?"
"Huckleberry, she was fucking flirting with you!"
"What?" He repeated, blinking in a few times. "No she wasn't."
"Uh yeah - she was." Santos insisted. "What you just told me? That's a fucking line. She lined you!"
"No I-" Dennis stammered. "There's- there's no way she was flirting with me. Aren't you the one who said she was way out of my league anyway?"
"I did." Santos nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "But even geniuses can be wrong on the rare occasion."
She turned to face him fully, her face completely serious. "This is your chance."
"What-"
"Go flirt with her! Ask her out! Do something!"
"B-but I-" He cut himself off as he glanced up, watching you twirl Javadi around.
"If you don't Huckleberry, I will."
One look at her face and Dennis knew she was fully serious.
-
As the night wore on, people began siphoning into the 'I have work at 7am tomorrow' and the 'I have a day off tomorrow' camps.
Mohan and Ellis were doing shots off a strangers stomach. Mel and Langdon were animatedly discussion the upcoming renaissance fair. Santos was making a point of flirting with any girl within earshot of Garcia.
Dennis had found himself and you alone, clustered together on stools at one of the high tables. He tried to ignore the way your shoulder casually brushed against his every now and then, sending a shiver up his spine. He couldn't decide if it was a blessing or a curse.
"I think Javadi is going to have a headache for about a week." You remarked. "I'm also pretty sure I just saw her sneak into the bathroom with Matteo."
"We've all been there."
You raised a brow.
"What, hooking up with co-workers?"
The tips of his ears turned pink. "No-no I-"
"Relax, I'm teasing." You laughed.
He let out a breathless chuckle. "Oh, right."
The thumping bass enveloped the two of you, preventing the possibility of awkward silence.
"You're quieter than usual." You observed after a few moments.
"I-" He cut himself off before he tried to deny it as you looked at him imploringly.
Who was he kidding? You would see right through him, you were way too good at reading people. He saw it everyday at work. It was a skill he'd always admired in you, your ability to coax the truth out of patients, but right now he found himself cursing your keen eye.
"Yeah, sorry." Was what he ended up saying.
You frowned. "You okay?"
He hesitated, then exhaled.
"Yeah I think just seeing everyone and you like this kind of threw me off."
You stilled, just slightly.
"Like what?"
"Like..." He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Like not in clinical grade hospital lighting."
That earned a quiet laugh from you.
He didn't know why he opened his mouth again. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Santos' words from earlier, maybe it was the way you'd ignored every single man in here tonight who had tried to hit on you and only seemed to want to talk to him, and he couldn’t help but hold onto the smallest spark of hope that it meant something.
"You um-" He gestured vaguely to your figure, immediately regretting it. "You just look... different."
He winced as the awkward words rolled off his tongue.
But instead of the teasing look he'd expected, your expression shifted into something gentler.
"Different....good?"
He huffed a small laugh, looking down at his drink for a second before gathering himself.
"Yeah." He looked up at you, his voice quieter. "Different good."
Your smile widened.
The familiar bass of Maneater started thumping through the bar speakers.
The sound of your name being called made the two of you break eye contact.
A slightly dishevelled Javadi, apparently having been summoned from the bathroom by Nelly Furtado, was grinning at you.
“This is our song!”
You and Dennis laughed as she pointed at you, demanding your presence on the dance floor immediately.
“Sorry, duty calls.”
Dennis pressed his two fingers to his head in mock salute. “Good luck soldier.”
You grinned, giving him a salute back before going to join the small dance circle that had started to form.
Dennis’ eyes followed you all the way there.
-
As the night wore on, the herd thinned.
Santos and Garcia had conveniently left at the same time. Abbott had muttered something about sunrise yoga before vanishing. Princess and Perlah were slow dancing in the corner.
It seemed you were next in line for departure. Dennis watched from his chair as you started doing your rounds, handing out obligatory goodbyes.
Dennis turned as Robby cleared his throat this throat beside him.
“You know, she told me she walked here.”
Dennis followed Robby’s gaze, leading directly back to you.
“Lives just a couple of blocks away.”
“Uh… ok.”
“So… she’ll probably walk home.” He spoke slowly, like he was describing some incredibly complex medical term to one of his patients.
“And she’d probably appreciate it if someone were to.. oh I don’t know…” His lips quirked ever so slightly, “… offer to walk her home?”
“Oh.” Dennis balked, jerking his head over to look at you as realisation hit him. “Right yeah- that’s a great idea.” He shot up of his seat so quickly that the table shuddered, half drunk, forgotten drinks sloshed in their glasses.
“Thanks Robby.”
Robby's eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched Dennis hastily make his way towards you.
“Kids.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.
You were rifling through your purse, making sure you had everything as Dennis approached you.
“Hey.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “You heading home?”
“Yeah.” You sighed. “Figured I should try and get at least four hours sleep before my shift, I don’t think it would be ethical otherwise.”
Dennis chuckled. “Yeah I feel that.”
There was a slight pause before.
“So, how are you getting home?”
“Oh I was just going to walk. I only live a couple blocks that way.” You gestured vaguely behind you.
“Right.” Dennis nodded. A heartbeat passed.
“Would you um- would you like me to walk you home? You can totally say no.”
You smiled softly. “Yeah I’d love that, thanks.”
He shot you a tight lipped smile back as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Great ok, well we can head off whenever you’re ready.”
You glanced over Dennis’ shoulder to see Robby watching the two of you.
“See you tomorrow Robby!”
Robby raised a hand in passive acknowledgment. “Later kiddo.”
The Pittsburgh weather had decided to be kind to the both of you as you spilled out onto the lamplit street. A warm, gentle breeze lapped at the two of you as you began the short walk to your apartment.
You made small talk, mostly about work, giggling about the crazy patients you'd both had recently, until you came to a reluctant stop at your doorstep.
Things felt calmer out here, away from the loud music and the preying eyes of co-workers.
“This is me.” You gestured to your building.
Dennis felt his heart sink. He thought he would have more time. More time to build up the courage to finally say something.
How was it that he could intubate a critical patient without breaking a sweat, but the thought of saying anything remotely risky to you was enough to turn him into a quivering, spiralling mess.
You peered up at him. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Happy to.”
You observed him for a few moments.
Dennis wondered if you could tell exactly what he was thinking. Wondered if you knew the effect that you had on him. If you could tell that he was frantically flicking through a list of things to say that could stop this moment from ever ending.
“You’re giving me that look again.”
“What look?”
Your smile curved. “Like you’re still trying to get used to seeing me not under clinical grade hospital lighting.”
Dennis chuckled weakly. “Sorry for being weird tonight I…” He sighed as he looked at you.
As the soft light of the street lamp hit you, Dennis felt something unfurl beneath his ribs.
You were so beautiful, both in your scrubs and out of them. Neither one was better than the other. One would not exist without the other. Both sides made you whole, culminating in one perfect, sweet, smart person.
And now he had seen both sides, he didn't think that he could ever live without either of them again.
That feeling swelled in him, creating a tidal wave finally ready to knock down those barricades he'd held so stubbornly in place for so long.
He met your eyes then, properly, and whatever nerves he had seemed to settle into something steadier, the realisation grounding him.
"I've spent a long time trying to pretend that you don't exist outside of work." He finally said.
"Why's that?"
There was something so open about your face that made his remaining walls crumble, made him desperately want to spill all of his thoughts at your altar.
"Because... because I knew that you were someone I really, really wanted to know outside of work." He confessed.
"And uh-" He gestured to you. "I don't think I can keep pretending anymore. Actually, I think it might make me go insane if I keep trying."
You smiled softly.
"You know how you asked me earlier whether I thought you were a scrubs or no scrubs type?"
Dennis nodded, thrown off by the sudden change in conversation.
"Well, I've been waiting all night for you to ask me again. I uh- I had this whole thing planned out, I was going to say something lame like, 'I don't know, I think I'd need to see you a few more times not in your scrubs to make an assessment.'"
"Holy shit." Dennis blinked. "You were flirting with me."
That made you burst out into a fit of giggles, relieving some of the tense energy crackling between the two of you.
"Yeah no kidding. Trin said I was going to have to lay it on pretty thick for you to get it, but I didn't realise how thick she meant."
"Wait-" He stared down at you, eyes wide. "Santos knew about this?"
You nodded.
"I'm going to kill her."
"Wait no, don't be mad at her - I swore her to secrecy." You said hastily. "I only asked her for advice after none of my more subtle attempts worked. I figured since you literally live with her, she'd know you pretty well."
Dennis thought his brain was about to implode.
"What... what other subtle attempts?"
For the first time tonight, Dennis finally caught a hint of colour in your cheeks.
You chuckled sheepishly. "I don't know... I always made an excuse to consult with you, or to take a break at the same time. And didn't you think it was weird that I started bringing in your favourite snacks every time you mentioned what you liked?"
"Wait - you don't like Doritos? I thought you said you loved them."
You shrugged. "More of a Fritos girl."
Anyone who walked past them must have thought that Dennis resembled a stunned mullet.
"I'm an idiot." He stated matter-of-factly.
"You're not an idiot." You reassured him. "You're just-"
"Blind? Stupid? A combination of both?" He let out a dramatic groan, burying his face into his hands.
"I'm so sorry I- I was so focused on keeping you off my mind and convincing myself that I didn't like you that I had total tunnel vision at work."
"It's ok, really." You insisted. "I can get so emotional at work." You huffed. "But you...you're always so composed and clinical and precise." You cut yourself off before you started rambling.
Dennis' heart hammered in his chest.
"Really?"
"Really. I wish I was more like you at work."
Dennis' brow furrowed. How could you not see that you were perfect?
"What do you mean? You're a literal ball of sunshine at work. Everyone loves you, you manage to make the grumpiest of patients smile. Jesus Christ I'm pretty sure I even saw Park the Shark crack a smile once-"
"-I think he was just trying not to sneeze."
He glared at you playfully. "It was a smile...by Park's standards anyway." He insisted. "You light up every room you're in. And you just get patients. If anything, I wish I was more like you."
This time, a fully fledged blush flushed your cheeks.
"Well then…I guess we balance each other out."
Dennis smiled, "I guess we do."
"And for the record." Dennis continued, "That's one of the many reasons why I.. you know..." He bit his lip as he glanced down at his feet. "...like you."
He looked up at you shyly, his nerves making his stomach churn. There was a pause. Then you whispered your next words so quietly that Dennis almost missed it.
"I like you too, Whitaker."
You eyed each other for a few moments, like you were both trying to figure out the new energy that swirled between the two of you.
It was uncharted territory, but it was something new and exciting, something that you both wanted to explore.
You only broke your eye contact to glance down at your phone, wincing at the time.
"I really should get to bed." You eventually said reluctantly.
"Yeah, me to." Dennis studied you for a moment. "I guess I'll see you today?"
You chuckled. "I guess you will."
A small silence settled between you.
Not awkward.
Just...comfortable, full.
"Good night Whitaker." You finally said, your eyes bright despite your sleep deprivation.
"Good night." He replied softly.
Dennis waited until you were up the stairs, behind the safety of a locked door and out of sight before he started his walk home.
You didn't need to know that his apartment was in the complete opposite direction of yours, meaning he had to double back past the very bar you had just been in.
As he approached the bar, he noticed a familiar figure standing by the curb.
Robby looked up from his phone as Whitaker approached. He peered over his glasses, observing the biggest grin he had ever seen on Whitaker plastered across his face.
"You get our bundle of sunshine home safely?"
"Delivered without a scratch."
"Alright, well I'll see you bright and early."
Whittaker's grin somehow widened as he patted Robby on the shoulder as he walked past.
"Thanks Robby."
This time, Robby couldn't fight the smile that appeared on his features.
"Anytime kiddo."
-
Five hours later, you shuffled through the ED doors, clinging to a double strength red bull like it was your life blood.
Shen rounded the corner, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you.
"Well well well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
You shot him a weak smile, pressing the can to your lips.
"What? No witty reply?"
"I don't have the brain capacity."
Shen chuckled, twisting around to grab something off one of the nurses desks.
“Here. This might help.”
He watched as your eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning at the sight of an extra large Dunkin iced coffee.
You immediately threw your measly substitute in the bin beside you.
“You are a lifesaver.”
“Actually it’s pronounced doctor.”
You let that joke slide as you eagerly took a sip, resisting the urge to let out a moan. If you could, you would have this stuff injected straight into your veins.
“Thank you. Seriously.”
“Anytime. Oh and good luck today, it’s a shit show.” He called out after you.
“As opposed to what?” You called back, giving him one final wave before making your way to your locker.
You went to keypad in your code, only to realise the door was slightly ajar. You were the worst offender when it came to leaving your locker unlocked, much to Dana's despair.
You froze when you yanked open the door.
Placed unassumingly on top of your things, was a packet of Fritos.
Upon closer inspection, you realised there was a small note attached to it, fastened with what appeared to be surgical floss contorted into a delicate looking bow.
You glanced around to make sure no one was in sight before leaning forward and carefully unfolding the note, revealing scrawling handwriting.
Figured you would need some sustenance to get you through this shift. P.S I've completed my initial assessment. My findings are that you scrub up just as well as you scrub off. P.P.S To really make sure, I think I need to run some further observations. Dinner this Saturday?
You bit your lip, unable to contain the wide grin that spread across your face.
Unbeknownst to you, Dennis was peaking through the glass, scrutinising every micro expression that appeared on your features.
A smile just as wide as yours spread across his face as he watched you fold the note back up neatly and tuck it into the front pocket of your scrubs.
Dennis subconsciously filed you under a different tab.
Except this time, it was labelled something far more dangerous.
High risk, once in a lifetime opportunity - proceed anyway.
He allowed himself to stare at you for moment before making his way towards the centre of the pitt for the day shift handover.
"Whitaker!"
He turned around, his heart rate increasing at the sight of you making your way towards him.
"Morning."
"Good morning."
The two of you naturally fell into step with one another.
"Ready for another day in paradise?"
He glanced over at you to see you peering up at him.
"With you? Always."
Both your smiles widened.
Then, very deliberately, he turned off the switch.
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