Robby is poking at the food on his plate listlessly with his fork. Dennis' encouragement —"Just have a few mouthfuls, please. I know you can do it"—is kind but it makes him feel like shit. He can't do it. He's having a hard day with food.
By the time Dennis relents, Robby is in tears. He flops down on the couch with a big, shuddering sigh. Hunger claws at his belly and guilt swirls around his mind.
The first hint of peace comes, however, when he smells the sweet scent of warm milk. He peeks out from behind the cushion just in time to see Dennis approaching, carrying a bottle. "Hey," he says. "Scoot over and you can sit over my lap. I'll feed you."
Somehow it's easier to eat when all he has to do is suckle from a bottle. It's even easier when Dennis is feeding it to him. He shuts his eyes and lets his lips catch around the plastic nipple, then sighs in relief once the first drop of milk is drawn out. For the first time all day, he finally feels at peace.
It's owed entirely, he knows, to Dennis. More than the milk, it is his gentleness that helps Robby's mind drift. "Good boy," he whispers. "Oh, what a good boy. Drinking your milk so well. You're going to get big and strong. I'm so proud of you."
Robby falls asleep in his arms, full and satisfied.
Dennis is wailing. Laid out on the bed, bawling for his daddy. Reaching out for strong arms as tears slip down his cheeks, seeking, wanting, needing the comfort he can provide.
Daddy, daddy, da-addy!
It is a mantra, constant, as he wails.
But daddy is not there. He is hundreds of miles away. He cannot hear Dennis' wails, cannot see his face screwed up in anguish, and therefore, cannot comfort him.
So, Dennis continues to wail, not understanding why daddy will not come for him and comfort him.
I love him so bad actually I think he’s such a beautiful character and he makes me so sad but also he has such a safe feeling associated with him and I’m gonna eat him and I want to kiss his face
He’s just the best fictional cg ever he’s the best dada and i want to cuddle him so much
rewatching season one, but since i wasn’t very active on tumblr during the first round, i’m here and more active for the re-watch <3
(basically if robby thought dennis told langdon about his moment in pedes... but make it agere dennis and cg robby)
someone saw you in pedes. langdon's fucking voice rattled through robby's head as he stormed his way back into the ed. he ignored dana and jack, his eyes trained on the lonely boy in the middle of triage.
whitaker. robby called, his voice dropping and growing firm as he grabbed dennis by the elbow, practically dragging him back out to the isolated loading dock.
once alone, dennis gently pulled himself free, his eyes wide with growing panic and concern, dr. robby? is everything—dennis was suddenly cut off when robby grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a rough shake.
robby's voice grew loud—louder than dennis had ever heard. even if dennis had technically knew robby for about fifteen hours.
but it didn't make the overwhelming sense of fear any easier. the sudden change in volume made dennis' shoulders tense while his head felt as if it were being dunked underwater... oh god, not now. please, not now. dennis begged himself, his eyes slowly filling with unshed tears.
robby didn't seem to notice the change in dennis, only focused on shaking the younger man as the words spilled from his lips, i trusted you, whitaker. i trusted you and you tell fucking langdon?! i know you're only a student, but i expected more from you! this job isn't some fucking game show—this is people's lives and trust! and you've broken both. robby scolded and cursed, shaking dennis every few words.
b-but, robby, i d-didn't say anything, dennis managed to choke out, desperate to make robby understand before it was too late, i di-didn't say anything—i w-would never. p-please, you have to b-believe me! he sniffled, a few tears managing to escape his eyes.
dennis' words did little to ease robby. he's been lied to the entire night—the past few months because of langdon. robby didn't know what to believe anymore; but he wasn't going to allow himself to be swayed by the younger man's tears.
shut up. just shut up, whitaker. you're done. go home and we'll talk about your transfer tomorrow. robby huffed, gently pushing dennis back—the same way from pedes.
but when dennis stumbled back, his foot slipped and sent the poor man to the ground. landing on his arm, dennis instantly whimpered, quickly cradling his arm against his chest. he didn't dare move, squeezing his eyes shut as small sniffles filled the heavy silence.
shaking his head, dennis didn't stand a chance against his regression—he had been fighting the entire day, especially after the shooting.
without much warning, dennis felt light and unable to understand why his arm hurt or why robby was standing over him with a now confused gaze.
'm sworry, 'obby. 'm sworry, dennis blurted, his shoulders trembling with new cries and tears, n-not supposed to t-talk ab-about 'ou—d-didn't t-tell be-because m-made promise. he explained, remembering how he made an internal pinky promise after that moment in pedes.
remaining on the ground, dennis openly cried and whimpered. he tried to wipe his tears with a rough hand, curling in on himself whenever robby moved towards him.
d-don' wanna b-be sent 'way, 'obby. p'ease, d-don' send m-me 'way. dennis pleaded, unable to meet robby's eyes without wanting to burst into a new wave of tears.
dennis felt overwhelmed. he hated feeling overwhelmed when small. it brought unwanted memories of his pa in broken bow—how dennis was forced to sleep in the barn whenever he cried for too long. big boys don't cry over splinters, boy. and they sure as hell don't cry when putting down horses. his pa would often spit, shoving his youngest into the barn for the night.
or the same overwhelming feeling from past caregivers. the onslaught of punishments for the minor things. how isolated and hurt they often left dennis before deciding he was too much of an effort.
and now robby wanted to get rid of him. it tore dennis to shreds.
robby stared down at the frightened boy, his chest tightening when he heard how slurred dennis' speech had become. how he kept stumbling over the same words. how he looked more like a frightened boy than a man.
oh... oh. robby thought to himself, his own eyes widening at the sight of dennis on the ground, crying different apologizes and wet promises.
slowly, robby knelt down until he was beside dennis, keeping his hands visible and folded against his lap, dennis? robby gently called, using the same firmness he often used whenever a lonely little stumbled into the ed.
d-didn' t-tell l-lang'on—i p-pwomis'. dennis choked out, rubbing his eyes before he was suddenly lifted and secured on robby's lap. dennis felt that his big headspace would know what to do... but he was so small—so vulnerable and fragile. dennis couldn't do anything other than melt into robby's chest with new tears.
keeping dennis against his soft chest and tummy, robby placed a grounding hand on the nape of dennis' neck, oh denny, i'm so sorry. i'm sorry for yelling—little boys don't like yelling and i know how scary that must've been. i'm so sorry, little one. robby cooed, brushing his thumb under dennis' wet eyes.
s-scary, 'obby. d-don' like scary, 'obby. dennis sniffled and whimpered, reaching up to rub his nose when robby gently grabbed his wrist, no, no. no more wiping your nose—it's gonna be raw and all achy. you don't want that, hm? robby cooed, looking down at dennis' bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
shaking his head, dennis stared up at robby before hiding his face away once more, hi, little one, robby softly smiled, holding the back of dennis' head, i think it'd be best if you went home, ok? no, no, it's ok, denny-boy. i'm gonna call your caregiver and they'll come pick you up, ok?
b-but don' ha-have no one—l-live on, um, this floor. dennis babbled, holding up eight fingers with a proud grin. but his grin faltered when he saw how upset robby looked. not "mad" upset but sad.
before dennis could speak, robby shook his head, caressing dennis' cheek, ok, little one. how about this, would you like to come with me? we can leave right now, maybe pick up... robby trailed off, giving dennis a chance to voice what he wanted.
um, pi'za? dennis tried, his eyes brightening when robby nodded, good choice, denny. pizza it is, we'll go to my place and get this tummy filled. robby softly smiled, giving dennis’ tummy a gentle rub.
but when he tried to stand, dennis let out a small whine. robby instantly stilled, knowing what the little wanted, ok, ok, little one. no moving just yet. he whispered, chuckling when dennis tried to squirm underneath his scrubs, pressing his pale hands against robby's chest and plush tummy.
robby could already tell dennis wanted skin-to-skin. the younger seemed to be deep in his headspace, making robby bundled dennis closer until no space was between them.
oh, dennis. oh my special boy—it's ok. you'll get what you want when we're home. gonna get you everything you could ever want... just wanna keep you safe. robby cooed, listening as dennis' breathing slowed and his body gently slumped against his own.
i headcanon that when Dennis is really really little, he loves to lay all scrunched up, and after waking up really sore, Robby makes sure to stretch his legs and stuff after naps 🥹
oh bestieeeee!! you’re sooo right!!
when dennis is feeling really teeny-tiny, he spends most of his day napping in either robby’s arms or in his crib.
so it leads to robby making sure his little one has the proper time to stretch his limbs and warm his body after a deep nap. all right, baby, biiig stretch—very good. robby praised from his place on the edge of the bed.
dennis, still nestled deep in his regression, was laid out on the bed. he was dressed in his favorite cow onesie, pacifer bobbing between his lips and eyes still so sleepy. but the little one still stretched his arms above his head, flexing his legs.
very good, little one. doing such a good job at following daddy's instructions. such a good boy. robby hummed, leaning down to kiss dennis' pacifier front—just hear his sweet giggle, give daddy another biiig stretch—good boy. daddy's clever little one.
stretching his arms and legs, dennis relished in the praise, sinking deeper into his headspace with a content coo. already, his eyes began to grow heavy all over again, mmm, mm. dennis babbled, his limbs slowly lowering themselves back onto the bed.
robby watched with an amused chuckle, nap time already? but you just woke up, little one. you don't even want your bottle? robby gently teased, rubbing dennis' tummy when the little one's interest piqued at the mention of a bottle.
Aaaahhhhh I have a pregnancy pillow that is kind of like those U shaped pillows babies have and it makes me feel so swaddled up and then when I wake up and stretch it feels sooo nice. I love this sm I love him like physically pulling on Dennis’ legs to help him stretch
little!den who works himself up into fits of stress.
convinced he's been bad, done something horribly, catastrophically wrong. that he's gonna get in trouble, bad trouble, that papa will hate him because he's such a bad kid even though he doesn't mean it, he doesn't, he really doesn't—
robby cupping his baby's face with big, warm palms, forcing those watery blues to meet his fond gaze. murmuring hey. hey, denny, hey. you're okay. you're alright. you're such a good kid, you know that, don't you? papa's favorite boy in the whooole world. you're not in trouble... nothing's wrong, angel. papa's never upset with his sweet boy. never ever.
the comforting words come out in a crooning, soothing rumble until they register to poor, overwhelmed dennis, breaths shuddering out of him in hiccuped little sobs. he breaks when they do reach him, slumps into papa's arms, that safe hold he's become so dependent on. he's safe, he's safe, he's safe. papa's not upset. never upset.
oh, my precious boy, robby whispers, holding him close, rocking them a little. such a good, sweet kid. m'so lucky to have you. so lucky. my little angel. you're safe. you're safe, you're okay... you're okay... papa's right here. and you're not in aaany trouble. none at all. that's it, I gotcha... just lemme hold you, kiddo. you're okay. you're doing so good.
i headcanon that when Dennis is really really little, he loves to lay all scrunched up, and after waking up really sore, Robby makes sure to stretch his legs and stuff after naps 🥹
oh bestieeeee!! you’re sooo right!!
when dennis is feeling really teeny-tiny, he spends most of his day napping in either robby’s arms or in his crib.
so it leads to robby making sure his little one has the proper time to stretch his limbs and warm his body after a deep nap. all right, baby, biiig stretch—very good. robby praised from his place on the edge of the bed.
dennis, still nestled deep in his regression, was laid out on the bed. he was dressed in his favorite cow onesie, pacifer bobbing between his lips and eyes still so sleepy. but the little one still stretched his arms above his head, flexing his legs.
very good, little one. doing such a good job at following daddy's instructions. such a good boy. robby hummed, leaning down to kiss dennis' pacifier front—just hear his sweet giggle, give daddy another biiig stretch—good boy. daddy's clever little one.
stretching his arms and legs, dennis relished in the praise, sinking deeper into his headspace with a content coo. already, his eyes began to grow heavy all over again, mmm, mm. dennis babbled, his limbs slowly lowering themselves back onto the bed.
robby watched with an amused chuckle, nap time already? but you just woke up, little one. you don't even want your bottle? robby gently teased, rubbing dennis' tummy when the little one's interest piqued at the mention of a bottle.
(This is purely a random writing I created on a whim. I'm going with it's a 'littles are known' scenario. Dennis' main caregivers are Robby and Jack. Also making him autistic because it is a talent of mine to make all characters autistic!)
(Does contain description of a meltdown, self-injurious stimming, and restraining someone for their safety)
"No Papa! I angry!" Dennis said, not quite shouting but close.
"Alright Den. I understand," Robby replied, doing his best at keeping time, even as his little hit out.
"NO! NOT RIGHT!" Dennis was fully shouting now. Although, being little, it lacked any of the real threat it would otherwise have.
"Am mad. Am big mad! Big dumb baby. Big dumb baby." Dennis began repeating the same three words over and over, getting more and more wound up. He was unable to stop himself. All his brain was telling him was how stupid he was, how useless and pathetic, he was just a stupid little baby. Then, before he or Robby knew what was happening, Dennis was hitting himself. His fists were swinging hard into his head over and over as he wailed. He threw himself on the floor, writhing around, needing the noise in his head to stop more than anything.
Robby dropped to the floor in an instant, in a movement that would definitely have his knees protesting. He knew what he needed to do, as much as he hated, but it at least would keep Dennis safe and stop him from doing himself an injury.
"Okay bubba. I'm sorry about doing this bug, but I need to keep you safe," Robby apologised. He pulled Dennis between his legs, pulling the littles back tight against his own chest and securely wrapping Dennis' arms up in his own.
"Shh bug. I've got you. You're safe Denny, you're safe. I'm so sorry you're having these bad feelings. You're not bad, you're not a bad boy Denny. You can't help the feelings. They'll pass. Your feelings won't last forever," Robby soothed. He held Dennis tight, knowing the pressure would help. Robby also starting rocking himself and Dennis back and forth, another trick he'd seen Dennis doing before when small, and Mel had explained to him with regards to a young autistic patient.
Dennis was still letting out ragged cries, harsh sobs and screams. Robby could only compare it to anguish. Dennis' feelings were causing him physical pain, and Robby didn't know how else to help. He hated waiting for it to pass, having to see Dennis feel so bad. But beyond what he was already doing, it was now just a waiting game.
"Pa-pa," Dennis hiccupped out through his tears.
Robby kept up what he was doing. "I'm here Den, I'm here," he reassured.
Dennis whined again. "Please. Make stop"
"Oh Denny. I wish I could bubba. I wish I could take it all away more than anything," Robby murmured into the curls on the top of Dennis' head. "But it will pass Den. I promise. This feeling isn't going to last forever"
Dennis just cried harder in response. He wriggled in Robby's hold, trying to get his arms free again. But Robby held steady, trying longer motions as he rocked and started mumbling gentle reassurances to Dennis in an attempt to soothe his little.
It took close to half an hour, but Dennis' meltdown ended. He was beyond exhausted. The little had been tired already, regressing a couple of hours before his shift should have ended. There was a tough case came in, a homeless man Dennis had developed a good relationship with had been brought in having been attacked. Unfortunately, due to his health conditions, they were unable to save him after his heart stopped. Dennis was crushed. He'd done CPR for thirty five minutes until Langdon called it. He didn't remember getting out of the room, he just knew Robby was holding him and taking him up to the little care room; and then Robby leaving again with a kiss and a promise to be back as soon as his shift was over. The whole time he was there the discomfort and rumbly feelings going through him just kept getting louder and louder. But he didn't have to words to tell the caregivers at work. And he just wanted his Papa, his Papa always understood; oftentimes more than he did.
Robby, whilst he hoped it wasn't going to happen, had considered the possibility of the meltdown. He hated when Dennis got upset, but he always did what he could to be prepared for the upset itself and whatever would come after.
"Alright bubba," Robby started speaking gently. "You're okay, I've got you Den"
Dennis hummed, sighing and relaxing back into Robby.
"You tired bug?" Robby asked, hands stroking gentle patterns up and down Dennis' arms.
Dennis nodded so Robby turned him around in his hold to cradle him close to his chest. Right away the little buried his head into Robby's chest as Dennis wrapped his arms and legs around Robby like a koala.
"There you go bug, you just do what you need. I'm right here with you," Robby mumbled, now tracing the same patterns he was running over Dennis' arms up and down his back instead.
Dennis cooed and gurgled. He'd gotten even smaller, all the exertion from the meltdown leaving him at his youngest. He started dribbling, mouthing at the fabric of Robby's shirt. His brain was finally quiet. He was cuddled up to his Papa, his heartbeat beneath Dennis' ear. He was safe.
(Thank you so much for reading. I hope you all have a beautiful, gentle day! If you're somewhere currently experiencing a heatwave, please stay safe in the sun and remember to stay hydrated)
god I can't get over the softness of green fleece Robby like oh my lordddd the most dad shaped he's ever been I fear. little!den unable to stop clinging to papa because he's just so warm n soft n inviting. robby zipping up his baby in that fleece with him to keep him all snug against his chest. ahhhh
(besties, i keep posting drafts when they’re not ready.)
little dennis who scraps his knee when playing outside on his swing-set. he fell off the swing when he tried to jump off, but accidentally slipped.
little dennis who usually keep everything bottled in and doesn't bother to cry for his daddy—he was taught that men don't cry for any reason. they're supposed to be tough.
little dennis who decides that he isn't a man, but a little one—so he cries for his daddy, robby.
"daddy!" dennis helplessly cried from his spot on the ground, unable to move his knee without fear of making the pain worse.
little dennis who only cries for a few more seconds before he's suddenly lifted into robby's warm embrace.
"dada, dada." the little one whimpered and sniffled, resting his cheek on robby's shoulder as he was carried back inside.
little dennis who sniffles and whines when robby brings him into the bathroom and looks at his scraped knees. he only feels better when robby rubs ointment onto the red skin and puts his favorite elmo bandages on afterwards.
little dennis who forgets all about his tears when robby showers him in praise and kisses.
"my precious boy," robby cooed, caressing dennis' tear-stained cheeks, "my strong baby—daddy's strong baby, so brave." he praised, kissing every inch of dennis' face.
little dennis who decides to go back outside and show robby how he jumped off his swing-set; but he doesn't fall again because robby is holding his hand the entire time.
dennis doesn't drop into littlespace til his body forces him to.
it's been weeks of pushing himself to the limit, fixing things around him and Robby's house, whenever he can, almost obsessively. door hinges that no longer creak, faucets that no longer leak. he's still visiting Amy and helping out with the farm, (Robby insisting he needs to stop— Dennis arguing that he's needed) doing all the heavier labor so Amy can get rest.
all this and still working at the hospital, picking up extra shifts when he can. he needs to be needed, needs to be useful, and he needs to not think. he's doing it on purpose, working himself to the bone. it's what he's supposed to do. ever since he was a kid, it was burned into his brain, taught over and over again. earn his keep. make himself useful.
slothfulness is a sin, a slothful child is a useless child, and he needs to be a man, not a boy. help his father, start chores early, learn to love the ache of muscle, even when no one soothes it anymore, rubs the soreness out of his back. his mother's touch was gone so quickly in his life, his father accusing her of "coddling."
so he works. and he doesn't ever ask for a scrap of softness in return.
but that doesn't mean he doesn't need it. that doesn't mean it doesn't ache in his chest, constant and hollow. it seeps into his soul, fatigue etching into his skin, weighing him down. it takes more effort to control his temper, to hold tears at bay, to act normal.
pathetically, he just... really wants his papa. a papa, not the man who raised him, an unfeeling stranger. no, the papa he was supposed to have, warm and steady and tugging him into a safe lap. he never had anything quite like that.
it's a busy day at the hospital, and the combination of people dying around him and monitors beeping and orders being shouted and the ache of his feet make tears sting constantly at his eyes. he fights it all day, the tidal wave that threatens to pull him under, make him feel small. not now, not now, please, not now.
he can usually stave it off. he tries not to give into it, his littler side. deep shame sits heavy on his shoulders over it, the needs he has, the yearning for all things soft and small. he gives himself the opposite. harsh words muttered under his breath, calling him weak, calling him stupid, calling him useless. his father's words sour in his mouth.
try as he might, he can't run from it forever. it all comes to a head when he gets home that night.
something harsh didn't set it off. there was no patient death that especially got to him, no text from Amy asking for last minute help, not even anything that inconvenienced him. traffic was manageable. Robby is humming in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner.
no, something soft breaks the dam inside of him. Robby, who's always gentle, taking on a somehow even softer edge. reaching out to tenderly cradle dennis's face, brown eyes rich with concern, thumbs stroking Dennis's even darker-than-normal eyebags. Dennis breaks with a murmured oh, sweetheart, you look so tired. what's wrong, baby?
and Dennis shoves him back, body shaking, tears brimming too quick to hold back. burning at his eyes, slipping down his cheeks. he opens his mouth to shout something, fists curling— maybe a don't touch me or an I'm not a baby or don't pretend like you really care. don't act like I'm more than just a burden to you. or maybe a pitiful please hold me.
none of those words make it out. instead a sob scrapes the walls of his throat as it pushes out of him, loud and ugly as he sinks to the floor, curling up. his cries turn to wails, childish and overwhelming, so violent they hurt. they ache in his chest and burn in his throat and eyes, hiccuping and tearing their way out of him.
whoa whoa whoa, baby, sweetheart, oh, angel, what's going on?! dennis? denny, baby, ohh, oh... robby's words sound muffled in Dennis's ears, his fists beating on a solid chest as arms try to scoop him up. petulant no's sob out of him, but Robby pays them no attention, curling Dennis tightly into his embrace.
it takes a while. Dennis is pent-up from burnout and shoving his little side so far down inside of him for so long. the wails shudder to cries shudder to sobs shudder to sniffles. shaky little breaths against robby's shoulder, the fight draining out of him, fists no longer beating at robby's chest or arms. he is utterly, completely, wholly exhausted.
papa.... whimpers weakly out of his mouth, and humiliation doesn't burn through him as it usually does. having Robby here, a safe person, a warm presence, slips him deeper into littlespace than he's ever been on his own. his brain is fuzzy, his body made up of more feelings than thoughts. small. he feels so, so small.
Robby picks up on it instantly. he takes in the information and does as best he can with it. adjusts Dennis more comfortably in his embrace, starts rocking him slow, gentle. oh, baby, papa's here. papa's here, little one, it's okay... shh, you're safe. you're not alone. not alone anymore.
not alone seeps into Dennis's sensitive little mind, soothes something lodged deep inside of him. not alone, not alone, not alone. papa's here. it makes him hum soft in the crook of robby's neck, slump a little further, tension draining out.
there you go, Robby whispers, starting to pet his back in warm, rhythmic circles, there's my sweet boy. my little angel.
Dennis struggles to speak, words slurring as they come out, too fuzzy and tired for much more than that. his voice is a little higher-pitched, softer and shyer. m'sorry.. m'sorry, papa, don' wan' be a bad kid... didn' mean to...
robby's heart aches in his chest, the thought that this precious boy could ever feel like he was bad so devastating. oh, sweetie, no. papa's so proud of you for getting all those big feelings out, okay? so proud. you're such a good boy, such a good kid.
dennis nods against him, words all used up, little sniffles starting up again at the sweetness he's still so unused to. being taken care of feels so, so good, but it's still hard to process. it emphasizes how lonely he has been, how bad the ache was that forced him into regression. but as the pain comes out, it's immediately soothed, for... the first time that Dennis can remember. and that's nice. it's really, really nice.
Robby is tender and careful with him for the rest of the night. tugs him into his lap on the couch, Den's back pressed to his front as Robby hand-feeds him bites of creamy mac n cheese. an easy, comforting food to get down, easier with Robby praising him for every bite. there you go, baby, good job. can't have my little one going to bed hungry.
he bathes den, gently, uses a sweet smelling bath bomb that had been sitting unused in a cabinet for a good while. robby wants to get some bubble bath, now, let dennis pick out a scent he likes. this isn't going to be something robby lets dennis shove under the rug, this is a part of them now. he can't see pain that deep and ignore it. he can't let his baby be alone ever again.
he dresses den in the softest clothes, a pair of baggy, worn boxers, and an old, softened t-shirt. curling up around his precious boy, he cuddles dennis as close as he can, starting up soothing circles on his back again. there, there, little one. papa's here. just rest now, angel. close your pretty eyes for me.
dennis is quiet for the rest of the night, and it's more than okay. he doesn't need to speak. Robby is soothed by the sight of tension draining from his boy, the tired, harsh edges of his expression softening. and now, the slowing of his breathing, deepening as he drifts off.
oh, my little angel. I'm so sorry I didn't make it better before. m'here now, here now... always here.
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