Sage -- 19 -- Hello and Welcome! I post poetry, fanfic, and anything else I feel like. I am an Ethel Cain and Animal Jam enthusiast. And very autistic. Feel free to message me for requests, or just to say hello. Feel free to share so long as I am properly credited! Have a wonderful day, much love ⚛
Autistic masking does not necessarily mean “pretending to be allistic/neurotypical," although you’d definitely be forgiven for thinking it does.
Non-autistic researchers have been referring to it as “camouflaging” for years, framing it as an intentional choice to suppress autistic traits and replace them with allistic ones in order to “blend in.” Doing an internet search on the term will return several similar results.
But now, Autistic researchers are in the game, and their take is much more nuanced and comprehensive than that. (Funny how that happens, isn’t it?)
They’ve found that:
- It CAN be intentional but is often subconscious and involuntary
- It is a protective response to trauma and feeling unsafe
- It is often about suppressing more than just autistic traits
- It is about identity management and being able to predict how people will treat you, not just “blending in”
Some people will lean into being “the bad kid” because they know that’s what people expect of them. Some people will even act “more autistic” because they know that’s what people expect of them. Others still will do things to attract attention in controllable, more “acceptable” ways to avoid attracting attention in unsafe, more stigmatizing ways. Not because they WANT to be that way, but because it lets them predict people’s responses better, which feels safer.
Also, there are Autistic people who can’t “pass” for non-autistic no matter how hard they try. That doesn’t mean they’re not masking. They may actually be working hard to suppress A LOT, they just can’t do everything to neuronormative standards.
None of these people will be accused of “blending in,” yet they are still masking their hearts out. When we assume they are not, we miss all the harm that masking is causing them. But they are suppressing themselves and suffering the consequences of that just as much as any Autistic person whose mask successfully says, “Hey, I’m just like you!”
(For more on this, please see the work of Dr. Amy Pearson and Kieran Rose.)
I cannot ever say this enough. The way many of us mask is unique and does not always look like perfectly blending again. This user said it best, in that in my experience, it's about predicting and controlling the way people will treat you.
As an autistic/adhd person going through the job search process I’ve learned to phrase my autistic/adhd traits as corporate friendly things. Here’s some examples:
I have trouble reading between the lines and picking up on implicit information? Actually, I’ve learned the importance of giving and receiving precise, specific instructions in order to avoid time consuming miscommunications.
I’m easily bored with only one task? Actually, I have a curious mind and thrive in places with a wide range of tasks as I prefer dynamic environments where I can contribute to many projects.
I have trouble with white lies that are merely social niceties? Actually, I prioritize a transparent work environment where we can tackle issues head-on.
This way I don’t have to lie, but rather just spin my truth in a way that’s palatable to them.
i've seen ppl joking about how frank is now all therapized and zen and healed and doing sooo much better mentally than everyone else in the pitt, and i'm a little confused because, so far this season, he's lied to mel's face about his addiction "never affecting his work", ignored the clear boundary that robby set to try to make himself feel better and ended up getting shaken so badly by robby's (very predictable) reaction that he could barely do his job, tried to make a pretty major financial decision without consulting his wife yet again, lied by omission to baran to keep her on his side, and retroactively fucked up his already lackluster apology to trinity by throwing himself a pity party when she made a true statement about him getting off easy after what he did. not to mention him asking dana to do emotional labor for him when she's dealing with her own shit (just like in s1!!) seriously, if anyone is the mascot for good mental health in the pitt, it's either joy or donnie
i love you porn i love you smut i love you intricacies of human sexuality i love erotica i love you freak nasty walls of texts i love you analyzing the subconscious through the lens of sexuality i love you bdsm i love you weird fetishes . u move me
Gay!Dennis Whitaker x Wife!Reader (secret wife...) and also Hucklerobby <33
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Summary: Ongoing small series where Whitaker's secret wife from the village back home in Broken Bow ends up in the Pitt. Whitaker is suddenly confronted with his old life crashing into the new one he's just started to grow.
CW: Nothing really. Medical inaccuracies out the wazoo because I'm lazy. Not proofread. Religious trauma/guilt/Bad upbringing as well as medical neglect. Lavender marriage/marriage of convenience. There is a child lol so get ready for that. Mostly soft and sweet stuff about living your truth and getting away. I am a long-time Tumblr user and very new Tumblr poster... I'm new to Tumblr tags so pls help me out if I missed anything important.
PT3 WC: 1.3K
This is part three. Read part one and part two. I will add the other parts as soon as they arrive :)
A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the love. Shorter part here because I am swamped with work rn! Hope to expand more on their story in the next part. Juicy stuff ahead when they finally get to talk... next time :)
“Who would’ve thought?” Santos’ voice rang high and clear, despite being hunched over her charting next to Javadi. “Not only is Huckleberry taken, but he’s married. And to a babe!” She stuck her thumb out behind her, to where you were lying and fiddling with the bedsheets, waiting for Dennis.
“It definitely begs the question of why he didn’t say anything.” Mel piped up from behind the two of them.
“And here I thought you didn’t condone gossip.” Santos asked.
“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but I am still going to be curious. I mean it’s only natural and I-”
“I’m fucking with you, Mel, I don’t care.” She turned back to Javadi. “Did you find anything online?”
“Not a thing.” Javadi huffed in disappointment, eliciting a noise of surprise by Mel. “He already never posts anything on his Insta. I wonder if she even has one. I’ve got nothing.”
“You dug through his social media?” Mel’s tone lifted with the surprise she couldn’t hide.
“Shhhh. C’mon, it’s not like she went through his phone. He knows we all follow him. She just did some… fine-tooth combing.” She and Javadi both gave Mel a sheepish smile. Mel opened her mouth as if to reply, but ended up shutting it again, shaking her head a little.
“I don’t know, it just feels-”
“Do we have any idea where he went?” Santos cut her off, letting Mel work through the moral implications of the situation. It was beyond time to get some theories on the table.
“Not sure. I did feel bad when he scurried off like that. There’s gotta be some kind of story. Some kind of… event, I dunno.” Javadi wrinkled her eyebrows before reaching up to smooth them out with her fingers.
“Maybe he’s got a whole brood of kids.” Santos proposed, a devilish smile creeping onto her face.
“That would be insane. How would he even manage? I mean with the schedule-” Mel bit her nail, doing the mental math.
“Dunno. McKay does it. Not like it isn’t possible.”
“In all honesty I thought it was his sister when she told me her name.” Javadi said, embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. “I mean, he’s cute! Sweet guy, hardworking, smart, it’s not like him having a girlfriend is completely out of the question it’s just-”
“Handome and smart? Do you have something to share with the class, Crash?” Santos teased. Javadi crinkled her brows again.
“What?”
“You secretly burning a torch for our Huckleberry?” She let a laugh follow the joke as Javadi’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“Oh my god no. Can you even- you shouldn’t say stuff like that!” She looked back and forth between the other two, silently begging them to fill in the rest. Santos got herself together, while Mel offered her an empathetic smile.
“Relax, Crash, I know you’ve only got eyes for our curly-haired nurses.” Javadi opened her mouth to protest, but Santos continued on, “And I hear what you’re saying. We all agree he’s great, but he squats in my free room. He lives on ramen. He’s Dennis. Him being married just doesn’t… doesn’t fit in the equation.” She cast another look over at you, with your long hair, bright skin, and big watery eyes. You were like a mirage. Some figment of fiction that had stepped out and into their ER. Try as she might, she just couldn’t fit you two together in her head.
“We should probably get back to work.” Mel piped up. Javadi and Santos both gave a tired nod, the excitement of the mystery fading as the long list of patients requiring their attention came back to the forefront of their minds. They started to disperse just as the double-doors to the hallway came open.
There he was, bug-eyed and slouched over, being towed in by Dr. Robby. He flitted his gaze over to the three women briefly, before casting them back to the ground. Robby gave his shoulders a final squeeze as they entered, before leaving him for the workload he had no doubt amassed in the time he was gone.
Javadi and Mel scurried off to their patients as Santos watched him get ready to face… whatever it was you were. He smoothed down his hair, rubbed his face briefly, and started pulling on his sterile gloves. She meandered over slowly, giving him time to compose himself. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as she neared.
“Santos I can feel you hovering. I’m not in the mood.” It didn’t come out snappy, just dry. Tired. Like a man on the way to the gallows. It twisted her gut. No matter how much she liked to kid, she didn’t like seeing him like this. And even more so, it got her gears turning. What could the story possibly be, to have him shaking through the floor like this?
“You can put the claws away, I didn’t come to tease you.” Her tone was soft. He lifted his head, looking at her. The eyebags that he sported every day were somehow even more pronounced. “I just wanted to ask if I can help, somehow. Anyhow. If I can keep people away or take some of your patients or…” she trailed off, trying to think of something better to say. This conversation was quickly getting away from her. “Sorry. I’ll back off. Just, you’ve totally got that. In there.” She gave him a painfully awkward pat on the shoulder, but despite it all, a chuckle escaped him.
“Thanks, Trin. I’ll… yeah. We’ll see.” He reached an arm around to scratch at his shoulder. He was so twitchy, it disquieted her. “I wasn’t expecting everyone to scatter like they did. Or maybe I was, I don’t know. Just thought there’d be more… fanfare. I guess it’s coming.” His facial features started to swim as he said it, twisting into anxiety. “God I don’t- I don’t know how I let this happen.” He put his face in his hands. “I know you have a million questions but I-”
“Answer them later. Or don’t. Relax, Dennis. Seriously.” She crossed her arms, lowering her face to try and catch his eyes. “We’ll help you figure it out, whatever it is. We got you.” It was the most tender he’d seen her in a long time. Maybe since they’d met. He took a moment to let it sink in, smooth him out. He’d be okay. He would move through this. With her. With you. Nothing could take him back. No matter how irrational he knew the fear was, he couldn’t stop it from gripping his stomach. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t.
“Thank you. Really.” He replied. She gave his arm a squeeze, and then cocked her head towards your room.
“You should get in there. Robby talked with her for a bit before going to get you and… well, she’s fine, she’s fine of course but… well-” she couldn’t quite find the words. He nodded. He understood. You needed him, and he needed to be there for you. “Do you want me to come with you?” She offered. He thought it over for a second. There was something safe, something empowering about having her there. He wouldn’t say it for fear of what it would do to her big head, but Santos had weaseled her way into his heart and found a way to make him feel big. Capable. He certainly needed to feel capable right now.
But there was a smaller part of him, shameful, that didn’t want to admit he needed the help. He shouldn’t need to be brave to see you. Speak to you. Face you.
“No. I mean, in a minute. But… I have to talk to her.”
She nodded.
“I get it. Just… holler if you need us.” She walked backwards for a second, keeping her eyes on him, as she went to fill Dana in at Central. Whitaker would be busy for a little while. He took one more breath and crossed the hallway. He rested a hand on the metal of your door-
pairing: dennis whitaker x reader x trinity santos
summary: after a nasty breakup with yolanda garcia, trinity loses much more than love, she loses her confidence. good thing she has you and whitaker to help her take it back
word count: 12.1k
warnings: smut, 18+, language, reader and dennis are in an established relationship, bisexual trinity (?), peeping tom behavior from trinity, unprotected sex, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, handjob, mainly porn without much plot, pet names like 'baby' i'm sorry i know some people hate it but it came to me organically, this is a smut fic im not coming up with a witty nickname, nipple play, honestly it's pretty regular, good old sex there isn't anything too wow, no hard kinks in this fic, minimal cum play i guess, do i have to add that there's lesbian sex if its a fmf threesome(?), well there you have it just in case
a/n: you know that shift in hormones that has you acting a little crazy? yeah, well i went through that early this week. the worm in my head whispered a really outrageous and horny idea and then proceeded to scream 'feed me!' nonstop
so ladies and gentlemen, get your pearls and get ready to clutch them. yes i know this is ooc not only for the characters but myself as well, but i couldn’t stop thinking about it, sue me. i am not proud but it had to.
i am done. don’t expect any smut from me in the next 6-8 months. i’m at my limit. im only good at writing smut twice a year. i need to chug holy water after this
isa if you’re here, don’t read i beg you.
Dennis Whitaker kept you all to himself at first. He wanted to get to know you and give you the opportunity to get to know him, without any remarks from his friends or colleagues clouding your judgment. You held yourself with such confidence, and he wanted to match that energy. You didn't act like he was out of your league, in fact, you had been extremely kind and that attitude only made him want to try harder. He couldn't fumble the chance to have you be his.
The support he’s received at Pitt has made him much more confident than he was as a med student or even an intern. At the same time, he’s no stranger to the remarks about him being clumsy or having shit luck or being awkward. A lot of it came from his roommate, who he now considers his best friend.
So when he started dating you, he carried the calm, quiet confidence he gained in the ED and left the insecurities at the door. He had to, or else you would see him as the others did, and he liked you too much to screw his chances up. For a while, it worked, but like all things, his true colors showed, and that’s when you truly fell for him. Sad eyes and shit luck included. It simply gave you so many more opportunities to cheer him up and brighten his day. It didn’t take away from the fact that he’s a hard-working man, brave enough to work in a trauma center. He saves lives on a daily basis, and that’s more than enough for you. The struggles Dennis faced in the past made him the person he is now. They never made him give up on his dream of becoming a doctor. That determination and drive made you fall over heels for him, so he had nothing to fear.
With time, he introduced you to Trinity Santos, the snarky roommate who took him in once upon a time. You and Trinity hit it off pretty easily. You earned her respect when you so subtly defended Dennis with a jab towards her. Trinity accepted it gracefully. There would be occasions where you and Dennis would be joined by Yolanda and Trinity in double dates. Other times, it was simple hangouts at the bar with Victoria, Trinity, Mateo, and whichever medical student had earned their respect. Slowly, he integrated you into his world, and neither of you has looked back.
You were the first call Trinity made when Yolanda broke it off with her. She allowed you to be there with her as she cried on your shoulder repeating the cruel words the surgeon told her. She is too much. Too intense. It was fine as a casual situation, but she doesn't see a future with Trinity. Too impulsive. Yolanda felt suffocated by her constant presence.
Trinity would instantly deny it if you were to mention her vulnerable state to anyone. Very few people had the opportunity to see her in such a way and she would very much prefer if it stayed that way; luckily for her, she had you and Dennis on speed dial. Or across the hall in some instances.
Trinity continued acting like her usual self, masking her pain with sarcastic humor and awful nicknames. Her job remained flawless, but beneath it all, on a personal level, her confidence had been damaged. Yolanda really hurt your friend and Trinity lost a piece of herself in the process. Getting it back has been far from easy. So every chance you got, you tried to cheer her up and encourage her to get back on the market. Visits to pretentious coffee shops, gay bars, bookshops, music festivals, and any place that had a space for someone like Trinity.
She was approached constantly by beautiful women of all kinds. She could choose whatever flavor she preferred that day, yet it never went far because in the back of her head Yolanda's words kept replaying, getting louder each day she spent alone.
Trinity didn't get any action but she did get a good laugh as gay men approached Dennis, promising sexual favors while he choked on his drink. It basically forced you to station yourself in his lap or between his legs as he held onto your waist. “I gotta protect my man,” you would say, throwing your arms over his shoulders while he rested his head on your shoulder, shoulders shuddering with laughter and embarrassment.
In one of those bars, late into the early hours of the morning, is when she finds out you swing both ways, or used to. A friend who you haven’t seen since Uni approached you, drunk out of her mind, “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you since forever!! Come dance with me, let’s revive old memories.” She said with a splitting grin and lust-filled eyes. She looked you up and down, briefly stopping at your exposed legs.
“I’m here with my boyfriend, Taylor,” you laugh awkwardly, waving her off. Dennis would lightly squeeze your shoulder, finding humor in it.
“Oh pity, you’re still into men,” she stomps, but then she’s quickly swooped away by her friends, who offer apologetic smiles.
“Wait, you’re bisexual?” Trinity laughs, shaking off the shock of the interaction. “Huckleberry, did you know?”
“Mhm, she told me during one of our first dates,” Dennis nods, playing with the strap of your sparkly blouse.
“I wouldn’t call myself bisexual,” you say over the pounding of the bass. Trinity stares at you as she takes a drink of her vodka cran, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“I’ve only ever been in relationships with men; I’ve been with women, but mostly in a casual setting. I guess I was exploring when I was in Uni.”
“And your catholic self isn’t scandalized by that?” She throws the questions at Dennis, who shakes his head, baffled.
“There’s a reason I moved away from home, Trinity. Besides, I live with you. I’d say you desensitized me to all of that,” Dennis admits, to which Trinity accepts.
The Santos + Whitaker apartment had become your home. You were so familiar with the space that you could navigate it in the dark, knowing Dennis had left his bag by the coffee table and that Trinity almost always left her sneakers by the couch. All because you were thoughtful and didn’t want Dennis driving all the way to your place when he was exhausted after a grueling shift.
There are moments where hormones are acting crazy, and you retreat to your apartment, where you can enjoy Dennis and his skills without inhibition. You didn’t quite care as much about your downstairs neighbor hearing you as you did about having Trinity go through that. She would never let either of you live it down, even if in the past you had to experience her and Yolanda's rendezvous through the thin walls of the apartment.
That being said, when duty calls, you answer happily. You just have to bite the back of your hand, or preferably any part of Dennis you can reach, to keep quiet. The little sneak enjoys it too. Pittsburgh has corrupted the Nebraska boy he used to be. The feeling of your teeth on his bicep shouldn’t have him cumming that easily.
“Shh, baby, we can’t have Trinity hearing us,” he pleads, pressing his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss. Your hands are intertwined with his as his hips press yours to the bed. As he finds the sweet spot, you gasp and bite down on his shoulder, a soft squeak and a grunt being the only sound. “Dennis,” you whine, riding out your high. His sweaty forehead pressing against yours, his hot breath on your skin.
Everything shifted one Fall night. Trinity was supposed to be out on a date, so you and Dennis desperately retreated to his bedroom. You were careless not to acknowledge that the door didn’t fully shut. Dennis had teased and edged you for an hour on the couch alone; if Trinity knew, she would’ve murdered you both and forced you to get a new couch. Now, you’re naked, sitting fully on Dennis's lap with his cock deliciously nestled inside of you. You grind your hips, loving how your clit rubs on the blonde patch of hair on his pelvis. Dennis lets you use him to your pleasure as he sucks bruises on your chest and plucks your nipples into his mouth.
Grabbing onto his shoulders, you begin riding him properly, moaning at the sensation of his cock nearly sliding out of you completely before he fills you back up. “I love your cock, Dennis, love how it’s all mine,” you pant into his ear. You lean your head back in pleasure when he bucks up to meet your pace, but as you open your eyes, you notice the door slightly open and green eyes peering in from the shadows.
“God, Baby,” Dennis moans when you unconsciously clench around him, grinding in his lap. It shouldn’t turn you on to have your friend watching like a peeping tom, but in your lust-filled haze, it thrilled you. Like a peacock you spread your feathers, you arched your back just a bit more, undulated your hips seductively, and made sure she heard about how good Dennis was pleasing you.
Trinity is frozen by the sight. It’s so fucking wrong, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her. Her date stood her up, so she stopped at the convenience store to get snacks and food to share with you and Dennis when she inevitably hijacked the TV to play Love is Blind.
She mainly looks at you, enjoying yourself in the throes of pleasure. For the first time, she also sees Whitaker in a different light. There’s curiosity bubbling up along with guilt. She’s not upset she got stood up. The sick part of her is happy about it because she got to see that spectacle. The logical part is begging her to stop and look away, it's wrong in so many levels. She eventually listens, tearing her eyes away, leaving the apartment again with a soft click of the door like she never came back early.
You debate on not telling Dennis, what good will it do? You promised him full honesty, though, and this should be a warning to be more careful. “Hey, Den,” you softly speak. You’re still naked in his bed, head resting on his chest as you trace patterns on his pale skin. The door has been closed for a while now.
He’s drowsy, but still he hums in acknowledgement, brushing your arm with his hand in a soothing manner.
“Trinity might’ve caught us red-handed,” you blurt out, picking yourself up with a hand to his chest.
“Don’t worry, I replaced the sour patch kids.” Dennis misunderstands your worry, thinking back on the other day when you ate the sour candy. Trinity is very serious about her Sour Patch Kids, often arguing with Whitaker when he dips into her stash.
“No, Den, earlier when I was…riding you,” he blushes with a smile, remembering, “Yeah?”
“Focus,” you huff, slapping his chest, “We accidentally left the door ajar, and I caught her looking at us mid-action.”
Dennis' smile falls, sitting up. Cortisol levels rise, and his heart races with worry and embarrassment, “Why didn’t you say something?”
“One, my judgment was clouded because you were hitting the spot, and two, I thought she would leave, but she just stared. She was probably in shock seeing his sweet country boy acting all innocent,” you try to come up with an excuse.
“You were the one riding my cock!” Dennis shoots back.
“Yes, but you were the one to tease me for over an hour!” You point at him with a pout.
Dennis sighs and grabs your pointed hand to kiss your finger. He thinks about it as logically possible, “It was probably an accident, and she definitely left cause she hasn’t made a single sound all this time. Do you want me to talk to her?”
Trinity always has something playing in the background. Music, reality TV, old reruns. The woman can't stand the silence in her apartment. She would never admit that having Whitaker live was a way to help with the stillness in her apartment.
You shake your head, declining his offer. “I think it’s best if we just forget about it. If she brings it up and curses us out, then we own it. Let’s not make it a big deal; we’re all adults. I’m embarrassed, and she probably is too.”
“You’re right. You’re always right,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you to him and kissing your swollen lips. You moan into the kiss, giggling when he places his hand back on his half-erect dick. He’s still a man on his day off with his very naked, hot girlfriend next to him.
“If only they knew you’re really trouble, Dennis Whitaker,” you click your tongue, chastising him. Your grip on him unrelenting.
“They wouldn’t believe you,” he moans, tilting his head back and giving you the perfect opportunity to leave a pretty mark on his neck and ruin his reputation just a bit.
Dennis is a man of science, so it’s logical that he would conduct an experiment. Something didn’t settle right with him when you told him Trinity stared. Not that she just caught you, but she stopped and stared. She’s one of the sharpest in the ED, always jumping on surgical opportunities and incoming traumas. Diagnosis and management spilling from her lips in seconds. It seems strange she would be in that type of shock by a simple act of lust between him and his girlfriend. Hell, she’s the one always starting raunchy conversations to make him blush.
Weeks later, Trinity hadn’t made one joke about the situation. No snarky remark. No humiliating comment. It was not addressed once and that was strange. So Dennis left the door cracked open to see if it would happen again. Trinity casually mentioned she had a headache and retreated to her room. He knew she would come out to look for some ibuprofen any time now. Not telling you about his plan, he swoops you over to his bedroom, seducing you and promising he’d be quiet.
He wanted to be proved wrong. It was all an accident, and Trinity decided that she wasn’t going to humiliate him for once. He had been mortified about Trinity catching him in the act, but the longer he thought about it, the more his perspective changed. He didn’t know what it was, but the prospect of being watched excited him as well.
It started organically, making out, tongues sliding as hands explored bodies they’ve memorized. In a few moments, your panties were off, and Dennis was two fingers deep in you, talking you through it. “You hear how wet you are, baby?” His voice was quiet, raspy, his tongue licking his lips, wishing they were on you instead. Sinful squelching filled the room; it would make a pornstar blush.
“Dennis,” you gasp, trying to hold his wrist, get him to ease up before the knot in your stomach dissolves.
“No, baby, come on, you can give me one like this,” he says, mouth pressed to your cheek as your hair clung to your sweaty skin.
“I want your cock,” you moan, you wanted to cum with him inside you, filling you up. His fingers were great, but you were craving so much more. You needed his weight on you, your legs wrapped around his hips and his cock spreading you open till there wasn't any more space.
“You’ll get it after you cum on my fingers. I promise.” Dennis kisses your jaw.
He had forgotten about his experiment until he noticed a slight change in the shadows. It was momentary but enough to catch his attention. Discreetly, he looks over, and there she is again, Trinity. He gives her a chance. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. She doesn’t flinch. Dennis catches his lips on yours, kissing your cheek till his lips are on your ear, “You’re going to show her how good I can make you cum?”
“Denny!” You cry out, but it’s enough to have you spasming. His fingers are abusing your sweet spot repeatedly. The sound of his hand slapping your skin is getting louder. Dennis makes a show of taking his fingers out and bringing them up to the light, where she can also see, pretending to observe your arousal before he brings them up to your lips, where you greedily suck them clean.
He doesn’t exactly know why he does it. It’s like he has something to prove after years of insecurity. After years of being seen as less than by many people. Dennis wanted to be seen as capable in all aspects, including pleasing his girlfriend.
Trinity is gone moments later.
On a casual coffee date, you bring up the idea to Dennis. If she’s so captivated by you guys having sex, why not have her join once? She’s probably lonely. Yolanda really did a number on her. She needs the confidence to go back out there, and perhaps you and Dennis can give it back to her by making her feel wanted and sexy and like being too much isn't actually too much.
“I don’t know,” Dennis grimaces, playing with his half-empty coffee cup. “Trinity doesn’t seem like the type to be in that scenario, especially with me in the mix.”
“All that Peeping Tom energy has me thinking the opposite,” you say thoughtfully, then you reach for his hand. “Also, maybe she teases you so much because it’s a habit. From what I know, you’re not the same person she first met three years ago."
“Would you really be open to a threesome with Trinity?”
“It wouldn’t be my first time with a girl, and it’s Trinity. It’s no secret she’s hot,” you shrug, drinking your matcha that admittedly tastes like grass, “I don’t know. That time she caught us, both times, it…turned me on.” You admit the last part as your ears and face warm up. You’ve always been open with Dennis, and there’s no one else for you but him, but it would be fun to have an adventure like a threesome.
“I felt like I had something to prove, and it made me feel good,” Dennis admitted as well, playing with the lid of his coffee cup.
“Have you ever felt any attraction for Trinity?”
“First time I met her I thought she was attractive—and mean—but finding out she liked girls I just locked it up and never thought about it again…until now.”
“So should I ask?” You ask, not wanting to cross any boundaries without Dennis consent. This is his roommate and coworker. If you don’t approach it carefully, you could fuck everything up.
Dennis was too curious now. The idea is eating at his brain; it’s no good that you appear to be so into it as well. “Subtly, ease her into it in case it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
“Thinking about it is turning me on,” you confess with a shuddering breath, looking out the big display window.
Your boyfriend is silent for a split second before he bursts out. “Want to go to your apartment?” He was also feeling a certain tightness in his jeans.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” you mumble, picking up your purse and throwing away the matcha cup.
One night Dennis has a shift in the ED, you knock on Trinity’s door, bags of food in your hand. The door opens not a minute later, and you lift the bags with a smile, “I got Thai.”
“Since when do you knock? I thought Huckleberry gave you a key?” She says curiously, but is grateful at the sight of food. She was just contemplating what to eat, menus scattered on the coffee table.
“It’s common courtesy, Trin,” you chime, taking out the containers as she looks for plates and utensils.
Comfortably, both of you settle on the worn couch that has seen too much and put on a movie. Challengers plays in the background, the scene where Zendaya kisses both boys playing.
“They are so out of her league,” Trinity comments, washing down the food with a Coke Zero.
“It’s somewhat realistic. If all three were hot, it would be a different kind of movie,” you muse, eyebrows wiggling.
“Have you ever had a threesome?” You ask, staring only at the screen. It’s not odd for you to talk about sex; it’s a normal conversation between two friends of the same sex. Especially when Trinity used to be very vocal about her sex life.
“In Uni,” Trinity grins, remembering those nights of wild parties and lots of alcohol. She admits she got out of control for a while there.
“Was it like strictly women, or did you dabble with guys?”
“I knew who I was by the time I got to college, still, a guy would slip in there now and then,” Trinity blushes with a cheeky smile as she takes another bite of the food, remembering those days.
“Trinity! You naughty girl,” you exclaim, pushing her shoulder.
“Dennis and I were thinking about it…” You say it shyly to gauge her reaction.
“Having a threesome? You and Huckleberry? Now, that’s shocking.” Trinity snorts as the movie plays. A moment passes before she says, “Who would you even ask? Oh my god, are you making a Tinder profile to look for a third? Can I see?”
“Ew, a stranger? No thanks,” you grimace before your eyes flick to her and then back to your food, “Actually, I was thinking about you.”
Trinity chokes on a piece of chicken. You run over to her, slapping her back and handing her the can of Coke Zero. Trinity goes absolutely red in the face, both from choking and your offer. “What the fuck? Are you trying to kill me?” She wheezes, holding her chest, her eyes are wide as she stares at you, bewildered.
You offer her an innocent smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were mid bite.”
“Joke's not funny,” Trinity whines, leaning back on the couch to calm her heart. She doesn’t think much of the question or why you’re asking her specifically.
Your quiet voice makes her snap at you, “I wasn’t joking. It’s an honest question, Trinity.”
Trinity's mouth opens and closes, not knowing what to say. From you, she can understand the question, but does Huckleberry know?
“You can say no. It won’t change anything between us. I won’t be offended. It’s totally low stakes,” you offer her a way out, nervously fiddling with your rings.
“Why me?” Trinity asks, mind still reeling at the bomb you dropped, not knowing she would be in deep shit with the next thing you say.
“Well, Dennis and I noticed how recently you’ve been watching us in some quite intimate moments,” you blush, looking at her through your lashes, avoiding direct eye contact.
Trinity nearly turns green, nausea forming in the pit of her stomach, “W-What are you talking about?” The tone of her sentence is higher than usual.
“Hey, it’s okay! We were careless and left the door open; if anything, it’s our fault. Still, we couldn’t help but notice that you were…enjoying the show so to speak,” you purse your lips to hide the nervous smile threatening to break out.
“I-I don’t, no, I didn’t mean to,” Trinity stutters, hiding her face in her hands, refusing to look at you. "I swear it's not what you think. I'm not some sort of pervert." Except, she kinda is.
“Trinity, look at me,” you urge her, grabbing her hand to pry it off her face. She barely meets your eyes, “We’re ready to forget about it if you are. We just thought you might like to have some fun. You’ve been struggling since she-who-must-not be-named hurt you, but if it doesn’t sound like fun, then it’s not, and we move on, and we never talk about it again. You’re a really good friend, and I don’t want that to change.”
“I have to think about it. Let’s just finish the movie,” Trinity clears her throat, piping up ten seconds later, “Wait, the movie choice was a device to bring up a threesome?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” You say sheepishly.
“You’re sneaky and terrifying,” Trinity mumbles.
The rest of the movie plays quietly with no more chatter to drone out the noise, and the food is left untouched. When the credits roll, you decide to go home to give Trinity the space to process and think of a decision. It’s only fair, you bid farewell with another reassurance and apology, squeezing Trinity’s hand goodbye. You take it as a good sign that she didn’t kick you out instantly.
Trinity just about has a panic attack when you leave. She leans against the door and curses herself out. She’s so fucking stupid. Why would she think you and Huckleberry wouldn’t notice? She really didn’t mean to be a creep, but something about the two of you just caught her attention. It turned her on in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. Fuck. FUCK. How dare you just suggest a threesome? With Huckleberry? Dennis Whitaker? Can his catholic guilt even handle that? Is it all a plan to turn her straight?
Trinity thinks he must have had a traumatic brain injury because finding you hot is normal; she’s always voiced how attractive you are, but to find her roommate attractive as well is a new low for her. She didn’t even realize she felt that way until she found Huckleberry sucking on your tits. He was different around you, more confident, and confidence has always been something that she’s found attractive.
She can’t go through with this. She won’t, it’s totally insane. Also, since when does Whitaker want to fuck her? A girl does a nice thing, and there’s a man wanting to fuck them. Except, it’s Whitaker, and he’s not that type of person. Trinity tosses and turns most of the night, barely sleeping a wink. Her alarm is futile in waking her up because she’s already awake when it starts vibrating and ringing.
Her morning routine is automatic. Get dressed, make coffee, pack the backpack, and slip on shoes. A dance she does every morning. Walking into the Pitt and seeing all of the occupied seats brings her peace. She can do this; this is her job, and she’s damn good at it.
Leaving her stuff on her locker and changing into the mandated scrubs, she joins the rest at handout. Whitaker gives her a tired smile, acting as if his girlfriend didn’t just do one of the most fucking brave things in the world. She ignores him for the rest of the handout, and he approaches her after with a tired look, “Careful with the kid in 8, he’s a screamer,” he tells her, expecting a laugh at his expense. When she doesn’t respond and scans her badge to enter the system, he frowns.
“What’s up with you?” He frowns, poking her shoulder, knowing well he shouldn’t annoy her too much before she explodes.
Trinity whips to glare at him, “What’s up with me? What’s up with me? Last night your girlfriend dropped a fucking bomb on me,” she whispers as she looks around to make sure no one’s listening in.
“What?” His face twists in confusion. “You found out she doesn’t like Love is Blind?”
“She what?” Trinity gasps again, “You’re both trying to kill me.”
“Trinity, I just worked a 14-hour shift. Just tell me.” He wonders what has Trinity in such a state. His girlfriend and her get along like two peas in a pod.
Trinity surveys the room again before she pulls him to whisper in his ear, “The fucking threesome.”
Dennis pales, “Oh, that.” He’s doomed. Yup, he’s moving in with you by the end of the week.
“Yes, that,” Trinity hisses, sitting straight when Robby appears.
“Whitaker, go home and sleep. Santos, trauma incoming, you’re with me,” he states, expecting Trinity to be right behind him when the door slides open with a gurney and a blood-soaked patient.
“So, is that a no?” He scrunches his face in confusion.
“It’s an ‘I’m thinking about it still’ because what the fuck?” She whispers-shouts at him, avoiding a man in a wheelchair and finding a pair of gloves on the wall.
Dennis is too tired to stay hung up on the fact that you chose last night to tell her and didn’t prepare him, knowing he would be going home to Trinity. He changes and picks up his bag before heading home and crashing. He’ll worry in the afternoon when he wakes up.
Trinity puts her head down and tries not to think of your proposition. She works all day, focusing on her patients and the traumas that come in through the sliding doors. Her focus is shifted when she sees Yolanda Garcia flirting with one of the new nurses; something twists in her stomach. Hurt. That woman has ruined Trinity. She took something that Trinity had cherished for so long. Turning in the opposite direction, she continues working, the awareness that she's changed has her considering your offer, for real.
Her charts are done when the handout comes back around. Whitaker walks in much more refreshed, his eye bags not as severe as this morning. There’s a coffee cup in his hand that she’s confident he must have gotten with you before his shift. He stands nervously next to her during the shift change, shifting his weight and twiddling with the badge.
“Relax, Whitaker, I don’t bite,” she tells him with a smirk, “Or, I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
Whitaker looks horrified, not expecting that answer, but then he clears his throat and nods. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He shoves the thought of Trinity biting him deep down. The ED is not the time or place. Perhaps, later during his shower.
From an outside perspective, Trinity looks cool, calm, and collected, but inside she’s shitting herself. She can’t believe she said yes to a threesome with you and Whitaker. What has the world fucking come to? She lowkey expects to see pigs flying when she walks out to the dimming sun. Fishing her phone from her pocket, she texts you a simple:
TrinTrin
Alright, let’s do this. You only live once 8:05 pm
You take charge of planning everything. It doesn’t happen instantly; rather, it takes three weeks for your schedules to align. You pick a bar to meet up in, and from there, all three of you will head to Trinity's and Whitaker’s apartment. You figured she’d be more comfortable there than in your place.
You set down the drinks on the table: a vodka cranberry for Trinity, a beer for Dennis, and a gin and tonic for you. You all three stare at each other with nerves that have been festering for weeks. Excitement is mixed in with the shaky hands and fleeting glances. You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, Dennis, a testament to that.
“Just to check in,” you begin asking both roommates, “You’re cool with his right?”
“I never thought I'd be in this position, but yes,” Trinity says, tipping back her cup, “Huckleberry?”
“What she said,” he says, his throat dry from nerves. It’s not like he’s been intimate with many women, and bringing another person to your bed is daunting, even if he’s been looking forward to it.
“Breaking the ice here,” you speak, looking at Trinity, “Why were you watching us have sex?”
Trinity chokes on her drink and glares at her as Dennis pats her in the back, “You really have to stop with the questions when there’s food or liquid around.”
You roll your eyes, “Answer the question, Trinity, and don’t say because the door was open.”
Trinity scoffs when her snarky response is shut down, “Why should I?”
“Considering we’re going to have sex after this, it would be nice to know what about us caught your attention,” Dennis replied instead of you.
Trinity looks down at the table and shrugs, “Listen, I really don’t know. The first time, I had just gotten home after being stood up and heard a noise, so I went to investigate to make sure Huckleberry here wasn’t dying and then—.”
“Then what?” He prompts, urging her to keep talking.
Trinity glares at him, poking her tongue in her cheek in annoyance, “I saw you with him, and I thought you looked beautiful, and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I enjoyed seeing you both together, it’s a different side of the two of you, and I was attracted to it.”
“I liked that you were watching.” You add, offering an olive branch. She doesn’t have to be ashamed of it. “Not that I’m telling you to keep sneaking on us.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Trinity says, offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Whitaker?”
He’s gotten more comfortable with expressing his deep, dark desires thanks to you, but it’s odd to include someone else. Fair is fair. Everyone is opening up. “I kept the door open on purpose. I knew you’d come around, and I wanted to prove it was not an accident.”
“Shit, never could’ve imagined,” Trinity blows out her cheeks with an exhale, “We’re all a little fucked aren’t we?”
“It’s why we’re friends,” you beam, putting your arms over their shoulders to bring them together in a hug.
Your confessions did break the ice. After a second drink, you walk over to the apartment. That’s when Trinity’s hands start to shake; she feels like the odd one out, and it made her nervous. Trinity stands by Whitaker’s door, unsure of her next move. She’s a step closer to the past, both physically and literally. You and Dennis share an intimate kiss, your hands splayed on his shoulders, reaching to tug on the hair in the back of his neck. He’s been letting it grow out into this faux mullet, and you love it for that exact purpose. Dennis presses one hand flat on your back while the other palms your ass.
There’s a soft moan on the back of your throat that has Trinity taking another step forward. Yearning, wanting that closeness. Breaking from the kiss, you smile at her and beckon her over with a tilt of your head. Another step forward, and yet she’s still holding back. You untangle yourself from Dennis, approaching her and cradling her cheek with your hand. “This okay, Trinity?”
Trinity nods, “Yeah,” pressing her forehead against yours, noses brush, and suddenly you’re kissing her. Her hands plant themselves on your hips, squeezing. A testament that this is real. She’s not dreaming anymore. Dennis comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder, observing how his roommate kisses his girlfriend. His lips trail up your neck, feeling your pulse thrum with excitement.
“Is she as good as she boasts?” Dennis has listened to Trinity boast about how good a kisser she is for years. She’s constantly tying a cherry stem into knots to prove a point. Today, he’ll learn if it’s true.
The kiss breaks with a string of saliva between you, and you nod, staring into Trinity’s eyes, pupils blown out, green eyes nearly black. You brush your thumb over her plump lower lip. “She has the right to brag.”
“Didn’t realize all my boasting made you curious,” Trinity says, her eyes briefly flicking over to Dennis. There’s something there she’s reluctant to explore.
You laugh and kiss her again. It’s sloppy and messy, her tongue gaining the confidence to explore your mouth. Dennis's hand explores your skin, undoing the zipper of your dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. His hands stumble with Trinity’s, and it’s like a shock to his nervous system.
He cups your bra-covered breast as his palms glide down your stomach. Fingertips lightly dip into the waistband of your panties, teasing, creating anticipation. Soon, his fingers search for the proof of your arousal, and he quickly finds it. It's warm and sticky, clinging to your skin and the fabric of your underwear. “She’s so wet,” he tells Trinity, who breaks the kiss to find his hands already touching you. You moan against her lips when his fingers trace over your clit.
He takes his fingers out, glistening, and brings them to his lips. He sucks on them, looking straight at her. “You should’ve offered to our guest first," you scold him.
“She’ll have the chance,” Dennis says, and Trinity can’t help but notice how it’s going raspier, lower.
“Are you okay with that, Trinity?” You ask to include her as she simply stares, overwhelmed by the situation. You’re clearly testing the waters, giving her a chance to back up again.
“Yeah, yes,” she breathes, with a soft nod of her head. Lust is quickly invading every cell in her body; it clouds her judgment, making her impulsive.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you suggest with a hum. Dennis takes a step back as you tug on her shirt, prompting her to raise her arms. You trace the outline of her breast and smile.
Next, the chunky belt she wears with those tight jeans. You caught Dennis checking out her ass earlier today at the bar. Trinity laughs, almost embarrassed at how she has to really shimmy out of them, but you enjoy it. It’s real.
Dennis sits back on the bed, leaning on his hands as he watches. Trinity's gaze flickers to Whitaker. She’ll be damned, she never expected to be doing this. Somehow, the table has flipped, and it’s him and his girlfriend corrupting her.
“You’re so pretty, Trin,” you gasp, kissing her lips briefly, then her cheek, down the slope of her neck, to her shoulder, where you teasingly push her bra strap. “Let’s get this off.”
You cup her breast with your hands, feeling their weight and how her nipples harden with your touch. Your fingers roll her nipple, and Trinity moans. “They’re sensitive,” she tells you. This situation has turned her lower abdomen into a molten pit. She’s now shaking both from nerves and arousal.
You touch her thighs and ass, admiring how firm they are. Years of hard work in gymnastics are paying off. You wonder how flexible she still is. When you brush the pale scars on her thighs, she tenses. “It’s okay, I got you. Nothing to worry about,” you reassure her, kissing her cheek. It serves to steady her as she reaches to touch your skin.
Lastly, you hook your fingers on the skimpy panties she decided to wear, snapping them back against her skin. The purple lace contrasts with her fair skin. “These are cute.”
“You can borrow them if you want,” she raises an eyebrow, trying to come back onto her sarcastic confidence.
“Hear that, Denny?” Looking back at your boyfriend, he’s discarded his shirt, and his hand is visibly pressing on his cock, “Think they would look good on me?”
“I’m more of a visual learner,” he responds, eyes taking in a nearly naked Trinity Santos. His pupils dilate at the vision of his girlfriend and roommate touching each other. His cock throbs almost painfully in his pants. The air in the room is suffocating him in a good way, pushing pheromones into his lungs.
You push the flimsy garment down her legs, and she lets them fall, pushing them away with her foot. You kiss her again, and slowly she begins to relax. You grab her by the waist so she’s flush against you. The skin on skin has her tingling all over; she swears she feels her arousal on her thighs now.
“Let’s get on the bed, yeah?” You grab her hand, leading her to the bed. As she kneels on it, you return to Dennis, kissing him. Trinity can’t help but notice how firm his grip on your body is, without an ounce of uncertainty. She can understand why you’re so hung up on him. Being touched like that is addictive.
Whitaker swiftly unclips your bra, a sign he’s done it hundreds of times, and pulls off your panties. It’s calculated, measured. He doesn’t just pull them down; he pulls you to him with them, dragging them on your skin. His kisses down your chest, catching a nipple in his mouth. You moan and catch her staring. “He’s really good at that.”
Trinity has to touch herself, or she will combust into flames. Her fingers tentatively slide down her stomach and between her legs, just a touch. You watch her with a wicked smile, undoing Whitaker’s jeans and taking out his cock. Trinity gasps as she shamelessly looks down to look properly for the first time. The first time he’d been balls deep in you.
She can’t say she’s ever thought about Dennis Whitaker’s penis, but it surpasses her expectations. He’s blessed to have a good-looking one. Good length, maybe an inch above average, perfect girth to have her squeezing her thighs. A bead of precum forming on the tip.
You grab his hair and pull him away from your chest to join Trinity on the bed. Dennis watches you go with one last squeeze to your ass. He’s still trying to find his place in this threesome. Playfully, you push your friend down, and she laughs, getting into it. You lean down to kiss Trinity, your thigh between her legs, your breast pressed against hers as your hand caresses her warm body. She moans when her clit drags against your skin. “I like hearing you moan. I want more,” you whisper, kissing down her body. Trinity's body is a mix of soft and firm, and you’re enjoying learning that fact as you kiss her soft stomach.
“No,” Trinity shivers, her hand running through your scalp.
“No?” You tilt your head, stopping your descent, lips pressed on her lower abdomen where a healthy layer of chub has accumulated.
“I believe I was promised a taste first.” Her eyes pierce into yours, and she smirks at your surprise.
Your cheeks heat and nod, kissing her stomach one more time before sneaking a glance at Dennis. He’s watching the interaction fully concentrated, his skin turning pink. Your mouth has already been watering at the prospect of eating her out. You would have your chance, you’d make sure of it, but who are you to deny Trinity? It's all about her getting her confidence back, right? Getting on your back, Trinity kisses your neck, softly sucking on the shell of your ear as she looks over to Whitaker, who has a hand around himself. His strokes are sporadic, unrushed.
Trinity’s fingertips draw a straight line from your sternum to your mound, lightly tracing. Still, looking at Whitaker, she spreads your legs and his eyes instantly flick down to your slick center. Trinity huffs, amused as she settles between your legs, bending at the waist to get a taste.
Whitaker chokes a moan at the crude pose in front of him. His wide eyes are trained on his roommate's pussy as it spreads for him. The sight is compelling, he stands next to you guys on the bed, hand reaching to dance on the skin of her back. They go up the back of her neck, down the curve of her back, until he grabs a hold of her ass.
Trinity shivers at his touch, her skin on fire. You run your fingers through her hair, encouraging her to keep going. You were all about touching her first, and she declined. Now, she’s distracted by your boyfriend, but surely not so much as to forget how to please a woman.
She sticks out her tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit, taking a raw taste of your essence. Trinity quickly goes for seconds and thirds, zoning in on the sensitive nub atop. “Ah, Trin,” you gasp, back arching, but Trinity has a good hold of your thighs. She continues her torturous ministrations until she finally starts sucking your clit, smooth tongue caressing the underside. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, closing your eyes tight.
“Trinity, making you feel good, baby?” Dennis appears at your side, cupping your cheek as you nod, “So good.”
“She likes it when you use your tongue to tease her entrance,” Dennis tells Trinity, who, for once, is quick to listen. Her mouth was sticky with saliva and your juices.
“Oh,” your eyes roll, reaching for Dennis, urging him down to kiss you, swallowing every moan and plea that threatens to fall from your lips. You always did have an oral fixation.
His hand finds yours, and he pushes it down to his pelvis, where you grab his cock. You’re torn between the two of them, flushed face looking down at Trinity, who is focused on your pleasure, ass up in the air, and hand on Dennis’ length, which you pump as he moans, forehead knocking against yours, and hips tittering against you.
Dennis has one hand on your tit, squeezing, and Trinity on the other. You catch her gaze as she gives you a wink. With a wicked smile, she parts your slit with her fingers. You feel the pressure of her fingers threatening to slide in; you’re needy, nodding for her to go ahead. Dennis watches attentively.
It slides right in wet and warm. A second one quickly follows, “I never thought I’d be knuckle deep in your girlfriend, Huckleberry,” Trinity boasts, watching how you’re taking her fingers so well. You’re good at keeping your legs spread for all to watch.
“Don’t get used to it,” Dennis quips, rubbing a hand on your abdomen comfortingly.
You’re too busy chasing that pleasurable sensation to intervene, undulating your hips on her fingers. “I can tell why you like her so much. Doesn’t she sound so pretty?” Trinity says when you moan her name.
It makes something tick in Dennis, but he has no time to explore it. “Shit, babe,” Dennis hisses when you squeeze a little too hard on his cock. It only makes him harder.
Trinity is slow at first, feeling, analyzing until she curves her fingers to find that spot and offer real pleasure, “Right there,” you suck in a whine, hips bucking.
“Right there, baby? Like this?” Trinity talks you through, curving her fingers over and over. Beckoning your orgasm closer and closer.
“Just like that? Don’t stop.” Your hand reaches for Dennis. You needed something to ground you, to stabilize you. Dennis leans next to you, both arms resting on the bed. He tilts his head, watching you bite your lips, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to cum over Trin's hand?”
“Yes, please,” your head turns to look at him, pleading as if he has a say. He could have a say, but he lets Trinity have her fun. Some lines haven’t been crossed yet.
“So polite,” Trinity is smug as she speaks, her confidence trickling in little by little. There’s a stubborn short strand of hair covering her eyes. Whitaker reaches out without thinking, tucking it behind her ear.
“Go on,” he rasps.
Trinity bites back a comment about him acting bossy and ducks down again to suck on your clit. She doesn’t quite understand how Dennis bagged such a woman like you. You can’t stay still as you reach for that precious orgasm Trinity is promising. Dennis helps you, pressing a big hand on your abdomen while the other holds your thigh, giving it a squeeze. He has a first row seat to Trinity’s work. Dennis doesn’t mind the lack of attention; just watching his girlfriend and roommate has him leaking.
You give a silent scream, tensing, your legs shaking, before you relax back on the pillows, panting, a smile breaking out as you look between the two of them. Dennis lies next to you, kissing you with Trinity joining your other side, grabbing your chin so you kiss her instead. Dennis kisses down your neck, sucking on your perked up nipple. His hand dips between your legs, exploring. Your hips jerk lightly when his finger tips brush your sensitive clit, then he traces over your messy hole, wet and clenching, and slides two fingers in. Promptly retreating and smearing it on your chest as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.
Trinity keeps noticing how possessive he seems to be of you, even though he agreed to share the bed. It's carefully measured, the good kind.
There’s a pause. A moment of reprieve as you gather yourself. Dennis and Trinity lock eyes before looking away, still too reluctant and shy despite being at their most vulnerable. “Having fun there?” Trinity says lightheartedly, finger dipping lightly on your belly button, which makes you tense and breathlessly laugh.
“Just a little,” you muse, sitting up in bed as you throw her a look over your shoulder, “But now I’m eager to reciprocate, and you can’t stop me.”
“Sure, you don’t need a minute,” Trinity bluffs, knowing she just rocked your world.
“I can multitask,” you chastise her. You’re slotted between her legs, kissing her pouty lips. Your eyes lock, and she gives you an easy smile. You’re glad she eased into it fairly quickly.
You go slow, taking more time than Trinity thought you would. You make a deal of kissing her sweaty skin, memorizing every centimeter of it. Your lips suck on the spot on the swell of her left breast, a light red mark blooming that will purple by the end of the night.
Your fingers touch her scars, and instead of feeling embarrassed, she simply watches you admire them and kiss them. Then, the inside of her thighs, going as far down as her knee, all while Dennis pets your back, the arch of your lower spine, he grabs your hair away from your face when you kiss her pubic mound, admiring the landing strip she shamefully did for you, both of you. She panicked a couple of days ago. Typically, she doesn’t care; a trim is more than enough, but then she started doubting herself, which, no pun intended, landed her on a landing strip.
“Be patient with me, it’s been a while,” you mumble shyly, kissing the crook of her thigh, lightly licking at the spot.
“You’re, um, you’re doing great so far,” Trinity reassures you, the anticipation making her antsy.
She should’ve known you were trouble. Your lips kissed all around her thighs, mound, pussy lips, except where she needed you most. Your sneaky self was teasing her. You topped it off with a small kiss to her clit, which did nothing but have her voice a small complaint in the form of a whine.
Finally, you start tasting her, all while looking up at her with eyes full of mischief. “Ah, baby, what?” Trinity keens, fisting the dark blue sheets on Whitaker’s bed. You sucked and licked till she dripped on your bed, and only then did you really stimulate her clit, pushing back on the hood, “Holy sh-“
A big, strong hand came to her knee when she tried to close them around your head. She looked indignantly at Huckleberry, her eyes tracing up a strong, veiny hand to bulging biceps, and her pussy clenched. You stifled a laugh, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her. The fact that Trinity shared a fair amount of nights with men, but she strictly preferred women, still didn’t mean she was fully immune to their charm.
You insert two fingers into her warm pussy, and an embarrassing moan spills from her lips, completely whiny and pathetic. She covered her mouth, but the hand on her knee moved to her wrist. Dennis shook his head, lightly chastising her.
“I don’t believe it’s been that long for you.” Trinity is baffled by your oral skills. For someone who mentioned not having done this for years and not regularly either, you’re quite talented.
“What can I say, it’s like riding a bike,” you smile, biting your lip.
You take your time with her, memorizing in equal measure what has her pressing against you and jerking away from stimulation. You bring her to the edge only to bring her back down by kissing her thighs. You’re enjoying the experience of edging Trinity. Of having her beg for you to make her cum and then have her whine out your name when you decide not to. You liked being in control of someone like Trinity.
Trinity’s voice nearly goes raw. “Whitaker, do something about your girlfriend before she kills me,” she tells your boyfriend, a truthful plea as you edge her one more time. Her legs are shaking.
You roll your eyes at her but continue. Dennis, who had been sitting back, admiring how you please his roommate, stands to come behind you. Seeing Trinity like this has him aching for some pleasure of his own. His hands grip your hips as he lines his cock against your pussy. You gasp as he pushes in inch after inch. You’re so wet from eating Trinity out, you need no preparation to receive his length. “There we go, baby,” Dennis grunts.
You moan his name against Trinity’s pussy, which makes her gasp and inch slightly closer to you. She wonders how Whitaker fucking you will get her to cum, yet she’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t admit it was doing something for her. Huckleberry isn’t built with tons of heavy muscle, but he keeps in shape, strong arms and shoulders, pecs lightly defined with a lean abdomen, and the fucking cock that hangs from him. No wonder you go dumb when he starts giving you deep thrusts. “Come on, baby, make Trinity cum.”
“Not yet,” you whine, sloppily making out with her cunt. You enjoyed having the girl who loves control under your hand.
“You want to cum you have to make her cum first,” Dennis promises, slapping your ass to prompt you. Trinity is surprisingly honored that he’s defending her in a way.
You don’t respond, getting a better hold of her thighs as your lips wrap around her puffy clit. Your fingers promptly return, trying to keep the same pace Dennis has you on. The sound of skin slapping, along with the squelching of her pussy is erotic. Trinity leans fully back, teasing her nipples and squeezing her breasts. Your moans send ripples through her.
Suddenly, Dennis stops. He leans over you to whisper in your ear, “Go on, baby, make Trin cum all over your fingers. Make her feel good, just like she did to you. I promise you’ll get to cum on my cock after.” Had Trinity not been so pent up, she would’ve gasped.
You’re selfish in the sense that you’re needy and would do anything for an orgasm. With the opportunity for one seconds away, you nod with glassy eyes. Dennis keeps slow, shallow thrusts as you pick up pace and relocate her sweet spot to bring her over the edge quickly.
“I’m so close,” Trinity nearly sobs. Every push and pull had Trinity sucking your fingers in. Dennis pets your hair as you do, supervising that you do as told. Finally, you add more pressure and Trinity titters over the edge, tensing up and nearly screaming out from the pent-up pleasure. You slow your fingers, carrying her through, soft kisses over her pulsing clit. “Oh my god,” she gasps, fisting the bed sheets.
“Just me,” you hum, with one last kiss to her thigh. “Are you okay?”
“I think so?” She hasn’t orgasmed like that in what seems like forever. Her toes and fingers are tingling for some reason. Propping herself up on her elbow, she catches how you straighten up, wet fingers sliding out of her, and Whitaker takes your hand, pulling it up to his mouth so he can clean them off and taste Trinity for the first time. He maintains eye contact through it all. He’s come so far from the homeless med student he used to be.
Trinity’s head is in a daze as she watches him suddenly start fucking you properly, deep and fast. Your eyes close with pleasure. He holds you upright, hand coming to your clit to run over it with tight circles that have you gasping. She’s transfixed with the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way you moan and smile into it, enjoying the controlled attention to your body. Finally, she hears Whittaker’s grunts and gasps as he fucks you, clearly enjoying it. It’s not what she expected, but it’s pleasant. Her pussy, still twitching with the aftermath of an orgasm, drips at the sight.
“I’m gonna cum, Denny,” you gasp, turning your head to catch his lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips.
Four deep thrusts and pressure on your clit have you gasping. You bend forward, and Dennis carefully places you down right where he picked you up, between Trinity's legs. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths falling from your lips, but still you smile at her.
Dennis is too concentrated on not cumming, but thoroughly enjoying how your pussy molds against him. There’s a ring right at his base from your arousal. Carefully, he pulls out, and you whine at the sensation. He lovingly thumbs your clit, admiring how your hips jerk from overstimulation.
You climb over Trinity to rest atop of her, her chest rising and falling against yours, and kiss her pouty lips. “Did I do okay?”
Trinity raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think you need me answering that.” Her hands naturally come up to rest on your back, thumb swapping back and forth. “I gotta thank Huckleberry over here, or you would still be torturing me.”
“But it’s fun,” you sing, playing with her hair, brushing the ends of it on her collarbone.
“Your definition of fun is different from everybody else’s,” Dennis says, playfully spanking your ass.
“Hey!” You exclaim, swatting his hand away. “You haven’t complained.” Dennis chuckles and shrugs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“You know Trinity,” you say in a tone that means trouble. Trinity hums, cupping your cheek. She wants to kiss you again. “We haven’t made Dennis cum yet.”
It’s an offer you’re making. There’s an unspoken tension in the room. Dennis and Trinity have barely interacted. When you first thought of a threesome, you believed all three would have equal participation and interaction. Dennis is not going to push for it—despite wanting it— but you will for him. “Do you want to give it a try?” Dennis shuffles next to you, a brief movement that reveals his shyness.
Trinity’s eyes widen as she takes in your words. Her breath was stolen away. “We can end here, no pressure. I’ve had fun, and I want you guys to be comfortable. I just thought I’d throw it out there, but if you think it’ll strain your relationship, we should stop here.” You make it clear that Dennis and Trinity are in control, too. You might’ve taken the reins at first, but you won’t be the instigator who will force something unwanted.
Trinity angles her head to look at Whitaker, and maybe it’s the dim lighting or the nudity, but in that instance, he’s not the same person. She wants Whitaker to have sex with her. She’s curious about how it will feel and whether it’s as good as you make it seem. More importantly, she knows he won’t hold it against her or make it weird afterwards. He’s one of the people she trusts most in this world.
“I want to try,” Trinity says, and Whitaker’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect that, sure, she joined them in bed, but he thought she’d be put off by the idea of a man fucking her.
You beam at her answer, “Yes? You want him to fuck you as good as he does me?”
Trinity nods more confidently this time, sitting up along with you. You turn to your boyfriend, who has been silent his whole time, “What about you, Denny? Don’t you want to fuck Trinity?” You know the answer, you knew it since he decided to make his experiment before he had admitted it to himself. Men are easy to read.
“Come on, Dennis. You have to admit how pretty our Trin is,” you purr, kneeling between the two of them in the bed. You touch her breasts, rolling her nipples between your fingers till they are erect. You continue down to her pussy, “She’s still so wet, and her cunt is so warm, I know you’d like it.”
Trinity moans when your fingers dip to swipe over her clit. She decides to look at Huckleberry then, his chest heaving as he watches. His eyes have darkened, and he has a bruising hold on your thigh. She lands on his cock and moans at the simple thought of having him inside.
You redirect your attention to poor Trinity, who has been painfully teased tonight, “Right, Trinity? You’ve seen how good he fucks me; he’s really talented, and it’s shaped so perfectly. Look, it’s the perfect length and heavy, don’t you want to be fucked by something other than silicone? Where you don’t have to do all of the work?”
The tension is too high, breaking suddenly with Dennis and Trinity smashing their lips in a rushed kiss. It takes a moment to be processed, but within seconds, Dennis melts into the kiss, slowing it significantly. You push on their backs so their fronts are pressed flush. Trinity feels his cock pressing on her lower abdomen, warm, heavy, and throbbing. You take her hand on his shoulder and guide it down, encouraging her to touch him.
Dennis is going to hell. This is a different level of sin and impiety. He’s been consumed by lust, and he refuses to go back. Dennis's hands feel big against her skin as he presses them on her back. She’s surprised when he licks at the seam of her lips and opens her mouth. Soon, she remembers who she is, licking the roof of his mouth instead. Her nipples are pressing on his front, and he gathers the courage to palm one of her breasts, squeezing and testing.
He breaks the kiss with hooded eyes and rediscovered drive, kissing down her cheek to her neck. Just as his mouth finds her nipple, his fingers explore her cunt. Trinity hates that you were right; he was good at it. He sucks at her breasts, teeth grazing, squeezing, teasing, but never biting. His tongue soothes over her nipple right as it begins to be overwhelming. It has her reaching a hand to the back of his head to pull him closer.
Dennis grabs the hand wrapped around him and pushes it back; he doesn’t need it. He’s far too focused on Trinity and what he can do for her. He gives a throaty moan at the patch of hair atop her cunt and the smooth slickness of her clit. You lean your head on her shoulder, saying dirty things that she hadn’t even thought of. It has her bucking her hips on Whitaker's hand.
Dennis took advantage of the product, his fingers curious as they poked and prodded. Index and middle finger parting her lips, rubbing the sides of her clit, and lightly dipping into her hole that weeps for him. Dennis straightens up after leaving a light marked on her right breast, opposite to yours. He looks at you for confirmation. Confirmation that you’re okay with his doing this. You smile, silly, it was your idea, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.
Dennis cups Trinity’s face, giving her one short kiss and then another, before he pushes her back to lie on the bed. He’s having trouble recognizing this is the same Trinity that works with him in the ER. Hair loose, skin exposed, skin blushing.
You give her a kiss of your own, spreading her legs to present her to Dennis, you have her bend her legs, folding them upwards, so she’s completely exposed to him. Still flexible. Dennis kneels right between them, touching her legs, giving them a reassuring squeeze. For a moment, he hesitates, aware of the line he’s crossing.
Trinity observes and notices how his cock is leaking for her. Glad she’s not the only pathetic one in this situation. You’re the only one holding on to your dignity. “Go on, Denny, don’t get shy now,” you lightly quip. You were excited to witness your boyfriend fuck his roommate.
The hesitation dissolves into nothingness because right in front of him is a gorgeous woman, wet and spread for him. Dennis splays a hand on her tummy, touching her, warming her up, and Trinity’s hand comes up to clutch his. “Start slow.” She’s nervous; it’s been a long time since she’s been with a man, and quite honestly, she’s forgotten how different or similar it might feel. Not to mention Huckleberry is surprisingly well-endowed.
Dennis nods, but before he slides his cock inside, he leans down to kiss her. Sweet Huckleberry, the sensitive boy, Trinity thinks not wanting to admit to herself that it helps her relax, too. She jumps when he rubs his cock through her folds, making it slick as he notches his cock on her entrance. You watch entranced by it all; you were a filthy liar if this wasn’t turning you on immensely. You wish you had your dildo to fuck yourself while you watched your boyfriend fuck another girl. Trinity Santos at that.
Slowly, he inches in until he’s buried to the hilt. Trinity hisses and gasps. “Okay?” Dennis asks Trinity through gritted teeth. “How does it feel, Trin?” You follow up, caressing her cheek.
“Fucking full—fuck.” There is an ache deep in her, besides the stretch of his cock on her gummy walls, and Whitaker is going to take care of it.
“It’s okay, he’ll take it slow, right, baby?”
“Yea-,” he curses when Trinity purposefully clenches around him. She’s so fucking warm and snug around him. He’s been pent up too long. He needs to control himself. The last thing he needs is to cum before he makes her cum, and you know that.
Santos would never let him live it down.
You reach to the tight circles on her clit, telling Dennis to start fucking her. He starts off slow, gauging her reactions. “Don’t worry, Huckleberry, I won’t break,” she moans, getting cocky.
Dennis has heard her moans before tonight coming through the walls, but hearing her moan his name live and clear did something to him. Made him feel in control, powerful, like he could do anything. His hands plant themselves on her soft curves, giving him the leverage to push deep.
Trinity forgets about being shy as she moans at the sensation of his pelvis smacking against the most sensitive areas. The slickness between the adding another thick layer of stimulation.
You stop rubbing her clit to give her some reprieve. A moment to be purely in touch with Whitaker. Trinity couldn’t close her eyes for long; she had to pay attention to everything going on. She had to look at Whitaker as he took charge of her body.
“Tell him how good he’s making you feel.” You order Trinity, licking your fingertips and pulling gently at her nipples. Her body reacts to your touch by milking Dennis's cock.
“Making me feel good, Huckleberry,” Trinity mumbles, biting her lips when he gives a particularly hard thrust.
“Try again, Trinity, you can do better than that,” you lightly chide, holding your hand on her sternum. Gentle pressure that grounds her.
Trinity is overwhelmed, her eyes watering with each earth-shattering thrust, “I love the way your cock is fucking me, Huck-“
“No, Trinity, that’s not his name,” you say firmly, gripping her chin to look at you for just a moment, “Look at him and tell Dennis how good he’s fucking you,”
“You gotta be kidding me,” she puffs, face turning redder.
“If you don’t, I’ll tell him to stop,” you threaten, looking over at Dennis. You don’t think he’s quite involved in the conversation between you and Trinity. There’s a layer of sweat on him, making him look very handsome. “He’ll listen to me.”
You’re proven wrong when Dennis adjusts his hold, hiking Trinity’s hips higher. It’s a position you know well, and that will get Trinity to say his given name. “Ah,“ Trinity gasps when he adjusts her position, hitting that spot nearly perfectly. Her ass off the bed, atop of his thighs as he pushes right into her spongy spot. “D-Dennis!”
Dennis bites back a smug smirk, “Yeah, Trin?”
“You’re fucking me so good, fuck, please make me cum, Dennis,” Trinity begs, finding his hands and clutching onto them. She’ll have bruises tomorrow.
You lock eyes with Dennis and smile, nodding, you pick yourself up from Trinity’s side and kneel behind your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his waist, encouraging him to make her cum. You throw in dirty comments while kissing his shoulder blades, your voice offering him a familiarity he’s so obsessed with.
Trinity is holding tightly onto his arms, begging and mumbling things you don’t quite understand. Dennis cock is messy with their arousal, Trinity’s clit swollen, ready for release. He feels when she’s close by how her thighs shake. Putting her out of her misery, he rubs her clit to make her cum around him.
“AH!” she screams, “Yes, yes, yes,”
Dennis grunts, ”Fuck, you’re choking my cock such a pretty, tight pussy,” Her walls clench and the small gush that flows around him has him ready to bust. With sheer will and a slight pull from you, he pulls out, and you pump his cock so he ejaculates over Trinity's stomach.
Dennis slowly relaxes, leaning back on his haunches and softly releasing Trinity from the tight hold he had on her hips.
They are both breathless, muscles going slack as endorphins and oxytocin flood their bodies. Dennis slowly lies back in bed, exhausted but pleased. You step back between Trinity's legs, leaning down to lick at Dennis spent on her skin. You lick all of it, swallowing most but leaving some in your mouth as you search for Trinity's mouth, where you pinch her cheeks for her mouth to open, as you let some of it drip down to her mouth before you kiss her and force her to swallow.
“Fuck me, you'll be the death of me,” Dennis groans, watching.
There’s a lull where you all pick yourselves back up. The post nut clarity of everything you did settling in. You giggle, and both look at you weirdly, “That was so much, much. I gotta go pee though,” you chirp, standing and leaving the room.
Trinity and Dennis are left alone in the bedroom. The realization of what they did settled in the silence.
“We’re good, right?” Dennis questions.
“Yep, Yup, this changes nothing, Huckleberry, don’t worry,” Trinity blurts instantly, going back to the nickname he’s had from the first day they met.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” He timidly asks, reverting to the person she's always known. Sweet, caring, and slightly insecure Dennis.
Trinity laughs, not out of mockery but disbelief, “You don’t get to ask me that after you fucked my brains out.”
Dennis' eyes went wide, but a small, pleased smile broke out on his face. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I really didn’t expect you to be so…” She tries to express what she’s trying to with her hands, but comes up short.
“So what?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, already waiting for a backhanded compliment.
“Dominant, I guess,” Trinity presses her lips together, further adding, “That sounds bad, I just mean that you’re firm and easily take control. In a good way!”
“You thought I’d be pushed around all aspects of my life,” the accusation is there, yet he says it so casually.
“Well, no, I guess not.” It’s not confident by any means. “You stopped being like that after intern year.”
You come back into the room, a large t-shirt covering your frame. “You guys debriefed? All good?”
“Yeah, we did. Did you have to put on clothes, though? We’re still vulnerable here,” Trinity waves over her and Whitaker, who are still very naked. She should’ve known you left to give them the space to talk. You’re hyper-aware like that. It’s something she likes about you, you know when to pull and push.
“Take it off and come join us, we’re not ready to get up yet,” Dennis calls out with a flick of his head.
“You guys just want to look at my tits,” you mumble, but comply and get back on the bed.
Dennis is right in between the two of you. Flinching when you decide to poke his side, prompting Trinity to do the same. He halfheartedly scolds you both, flinching when you try to tickle him again. A soft conversation arising as you and Dennis reassure Trinity that she's hot and smart and capable and everything someone with good taste could wish for.
When morning comes, everything falls back into place. Trinity retreats to her room to complete her rehearsed routine before work, and you take off for the gym with a kiss on his lips.
Everything settled comfortably. No awkwardness. You, Dennis, and Trinity fell into the good old routine. You even went with them to the bar a couple nights later to find Trinity a date, which went very successfully. The way Trinity carried herself was different, relaxed and confident. No more thinking about Garcia or the hateful words she spewed.
Their erotic night is only brought up once, months later. “I never properly thanked you for that night. It really helped.”
Dennis is deep in charting when Trinity brings it up. It takes him a moment to register what she means. “Oh, no problem." His face heats up, vividly remembering that night.
Trinity can’t handle the serious atmosphere, so she does what she does best. “You’re lucky you got to her first, Huckleberry.”
“Or what you would’ve dated her?” Dennis scoffs, leaning back on the chair.
“Hell yeah,” Trinity exclaims, “A girl that hot and talented,” she whispers, ducking down to make sure no one hears.
“I don’t think so,” Dennis shakes his head with a grimace.
“I wouldn’t be so confident she was dripping for me,” Trinity purses her lips, typing in an order for a patient.
“I’m confident in my abilities to please her.” His voice is steady and confident, and he looks away from Trinity to continue his charting.
Trinity flicks her hair over her shoulder, waving him off, “Okay, I wouldn’t get too cocky.”
Dennis takes a beat, deciding if he wants to respond to that. “No? I kinda remember someone going ‘Oh Dennis, fuck yeah, make me cum, yes yes yes.’”
Trinity thanks whatever god exists that the ED is loud and everyone is busy. “HUCKLEBERRY!” She exclaims, raising a hand to slap whatever part of him she can reach first, but he’s already running, grabbing a tablet from a nurse. “I’ve created a monster.”
enjoyed the fic? leave a comment or a reblog, id love to read what you thought even if its just a key board smash, if not...a heart is good too
i'm probably gonna say very little about fandom discourse around this ep because spring break starts next week and i'm running out of sanity but actually. i love everyone on the pitt being flawed and fucked up and nasty sometimes. i love robby being a hypocrite and repulsed by samira's anxiety because he's repulsed by his own. i love that, alternatively, samira is repulsed by her mother's loneliness because she's repulsed by her own, too. i love santos blaming langdon for her ostracization at the ED and her unwillingness to see that, separate of the langdon issue (however separate you can make it), if you go around being an asshole to your peers all the time, some people are just not going to fucking like you. i love that its garcia specifically who checks santos for the lack of decorum she's displaying in front of their patients in this ep because garcia herself could arguably stand to have a bit more decorum when talking about patients and she's also treating santos like a dogggg right now. i love that mel is overstepping boundaries with becca and coddling her in a way that doesnt allow becca the space she deserves to be an autonomous adult with autism who should be respected on her own terms because mel's also struggling with what it means to be an autonomous adult with autism who should be respected on her own terms. i think there's a difference between a show depicting characters behaving badly and cosigning their bad behavior. i think a good character and a good person are separate categories. i love that this is a show that isn't so obsessed with likability that it keeps its characters from behaving badly.
frankly, i hope these characters keep fucking up, and i hope they keep getting checked by their fellow fuck ups, because that's life, brother. there is no divine priestly class of sinless people who exist to tell the "bad" people off for their missteps. and i hope that, as the show progresses, we see robby, santos, mohan, langdon etc make more mistakes and better mistakes. and i love that this show, for all its flaws, is (imo) still holding true to its premise that people are not wholly defined by their best moments or their worst. no matter how uncomfortable it is to sit with that nuance or how tense that makes an episode of television lol.
I need Al-Hashimi to be briefed about what happened between Santos and Langdon because her speech about Robby's behavior with Mohan and how it's affected by him being her superior(!!) is so fucking important for understanding what happened between Santos and Langdon and I need EVERYONE (INCLUDING GARCIA!!) to get their heads out of their asses and stop treating Santos like she's being a crybaby about a really fucked up situation with her white, male superior who, and she's correct, should have been FIRED for what he did and she SAVED HIM from that
Sometimes I forget theres actual people out there that read my fics and its not just me sitting here giggling over some dumb idea I had about Jack and Robby
Gay!Dennis Whitaker x Wife!Reader (secret wife...) and also Hucklerobby <33
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Summary: Ongoing small series where Whitaker's secret wife from the village back home in Broken Bow ends up in the Pitt. Whitaker is suddenly confronted with his old life crashing into the new one he's just started to grow.
CW: Nothing really. Medical inaccuracies out the wazoo because I'm lazy. Not proofread. Religious trauma/guilt/Bad upbringing as well as medical neglect. Lavender marriage/marriage of convenience. There is a child lol so get ready for that. Mostly soft and sweet stuff about living your truth and getting away. I am a long-time Tumblr user and very new Tumblr poster... I'm new to Tumblr tags so pls help me out if I missed anything important.
PT2 WC: 2.4K
This is part two. Read part one here. I will add the other parts as soon as they arrive :)
A/N: Hello all! Part two has arrived. Apologies for the lack of Dennis, but we have to do some establishing work before we can get to the juicy stuff. I promise, your Whitaker content is on the way! Apologies to any Nebraskans reading this. My family is from Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa, so I'm working with what I know.
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You reclined on the gurney, fluorescent hospital lighting streaking across your sensitive eyes. There were so many people. So many words. And it was so cold. You pushed yourself back into the bed and blanket as much as you could, willing it to swallow you. Oh my god, they’d cut your clothes off. This was a disaster.
Like a reflex, you found your mind slipping into prayer. To please take you away from the sterile-smelling tile and the beep of your heart on the monitor. Take you back.
You knew it would not oblige. You didn’t even know what you were praying to. You’d stopped knowing a long time ago.
What were you thinking, coming to Pittsburgh? Well, you knew what you had been thinking. A simple clear plan put together in a fevered haze. But it all seemed so stupid now. Of course he wouldn’t want to see you here. This was his new life, his new beginning, and you’d put yourself right in the middle of it. Mosey’d on up and knocked it over. Literally. According to… someone…though you couldn’t remember which doctor it was that had told you, your definitive lack of grace and swimming head had landed you on the train station floor. Even with the pain between your ears making every thought a labor, you could still catch the words floating between the doctors and nurses all around you. Some were directed at you, and you did your best to answer. Some were certainly not, but you still did your darned best to listen.
“Did I hear her right?”
“When she came in she was asking for-”
“-paramedics said no ID”
“Can we focus on our patient’s status, please!” A loud command broke through the whispers, and they obeyed.
You knew you should probably be jumping in to help. Say more, do more, fill in the gaps. You tried to focus on the voices and the mouths they were coming out of, but every time your mouth opened to speak, nothing came out. Your throat felt as if it were growing hairs like summer corn. Husky, heavy, dry. You let out a long trail of coughs just at the thought. “Let’s make sure we add a chest x-ray to that-” you searched for the source of the authoritative words, eyes straining against your headache. You found them in the beard of a handsome older doctor, with a tall face and grays streaking his beard. You watched him point and gesture to the other doctors orbiting around him. He must be in charge, you thought.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, Sir?” You hoarsed out. The doctor stopped his instructions to bend down to you.
“Hello, Ma’am. I’m Doctor Robinavitch. You can call me Dr. Robby.” He smiled at you kindly, eyes crinkling. “Do you know where you are?”
“Hello, Doctor Robby. I think so. I’m in the hospital. An ER.”
“That’s right. The medics brought you in after you took a spill in the train station. Hit your head pretty good, and broke a bone in your chest, here.” He reached up to his own collarbones to demonstrate.
“Okay. Okay, yes, I remember someone telling me.” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to quiet the way your brain felt like it was pulling itself apart.
“You’ve got a nasty cough too it seems. Are you in a lot of pain?” He asked, the clinical tone in his voice making you smile. It was so unfamiliar to you, but it sparked memories of Dennis practicing for his boards over the phone. Dr. Robby’s voice didn’t shake the way his had, though.
“Um, I’m okay I think. My head… I’m just feeling very… this is PTMC, right?” Every part inside you was fighting to say its sentence first. Somewhere in you, there was a part saying that you made no sense and should probably sleep for the next week, but the one that desperately needed to know what you’d gotten yourself into? That was the one winning.
“Uhm- Yes, this is- are you from Pittsburgh, Ma’am?” Dr. Robby’s strong, gloved hands gently felt around your skull as he spoke. You shut your eyes again, trying desperately to pull your thoughts to a single stream.
“No. Nebraska. I’m from Nebraska.” A full body shiver went through you as you said it. You had so much shit coming when you got back. But right now, there were bigger fish to fry.
“Really?” There was something choking Dr. Robby’s tone, and you had a good guess what it was. “We have a doctor here from Nebraska… as well.” He cleared his throat, punctuating his point.
When you opened your eyes, you saw the two younger ones—Dennis’ fellow students, they must have been— looking at you with eyebrows up. They had that distinctly “worker-bee” look about them. For a moment, you thought the taller one was Dennis, but as your vision focused, you could clearly see the differences. This one was lankier, with a sharper face. You looked between him and the woman. She had a ring in her nose. Kinda like with Pa Whitaker’s bulls, you thought.
Dr. Robby cleared his throat again, and they resumed their tasks quickly, shuffling out of the room. On their way out, they passed two other young women who were at the very least pretending not to poke their heads in. “Santos, if you’re just going to stand there, at least flip the lights off for our concussion patient, please?”
The doctor in question straightened, giving Dr. Robby a sheepish thumbs-up as she flicked the switch. She and the other young woman rounded the corner… but not far.
Once it was just the two of them, Dr. Robby rolled a stool over and took a seat. He took a moment to get himself settled, which gave you an opportunity to watch him. He was so fluid in his movements, so absolute. It made you feel calm, the way he smoothed down the front of his cargo pants and laced his fingers in front of him. You needed that calm, considering you knew what was about to come out of his mouth.
“Doctor, before you…say anything, can I ask a question?”
“Of course.” His brown eyes were large, pupils almost overtaking the iris in the low light of your room.
“Is Dennis alright?” you squeaked out. You knew it was the wrong one. You knew you should get a grasp on your own situation, how hurt you were, and how much they knew about him here, but you couldn’t help it. Even in your pre-morphine pain-filled haze you had seen those signature sunken eyes you’d fallen for. You’d been turning the image over and over in your mind as they poked and prodded you but any doubts that pushed through were nothing more than you fooling yourself. You were at PTMC. Of course it was him.
“Well, I’ll go check on him myself in a bit, but I think he’ll be alright. Just seemed to have a… bit of a shock.” He offered you a smile, which you found you could return.
“I was hoping to see him, he’s a very good doctor.” You tried to sound confident. You were supposed to be confident. Dennis was good at everything he did. And you had a duty to support him in everything. You’d taken a vow.
But the thought that you may have broken that vow was coursing through you.
“He is. One of my best. Reminds me of me.” You watched the way the doctor’s face flushed with life as he spoke. It was… awfully affectionate. But Dr. Robby didn’t give you a chance to think on it too long. “But before I go find him, I want to make sure you know what’s going on with you.” He brought his hands up, the warmth of a friend fluidly making its way into the professionalism of a doctor. “You seem to have gotten through your fall alright. We’ll send you for a head CT- do you know what that is?” He paused.
“Uhm-” you wracked your brain. It sounded familiar. You’re sure Dennis had mentioned it at some point. Some kind of machine… but the more you tried to find the answer the harder the blood seemed to beat behind your eyes, so you shook your head.
“It’s a type of scan, it’ll tell us how bad you hit your head. However, just as things stand right now, and the fact that you’re talking here with me, I think you’ll be okay. But we’re also going to make sure you get an x-ray. That way we can figure out how to best help that collarbone heal. That was a stroke of bad luck, I’m afraid.”
“Seems to not be my day.” You offered him a weak smile.
“Do you know what made you pass out? Miss-” he stopped himself, eyes darting down to the rings on your left hand.
You nodded.
“Mrs.” You corrected him. He nodded. “I think so.” You took a deep breath as you continued. You’d come here to tell Dennis, but at the end of the day, you just needed help. If these were the people teaching Dennis, then it was really just like jumping a rung on the ladder… right? It was fine. They were safe. They would help you. “I’ve been feeling pretty sick these past couple of weeks, and I haven’t gotten better on my own. I spend a lot of time outside, and the kids are always catching things, so I figured I’d just picked something up. But it’s been getting pretty bad… as I’m sure you hear-” you cut yourself off with a string of coughing that you brought your arm up to cover. Once it settled down, you tried to finish your story. “A few days ago, I was feeling real sick, sick like I’ve never been. I had planned to come see my… well… I came out here to get some help.”
Dr. Robby nodded, putting his words together in his mind.
“That’s a long way to come for a check-up. Even if your symptoms are pretty serious.”
“Yes. It is.” You whispered. You twisted the blanket around your fingers. You knew what he was getting at, and you’re sure he just wanted to understand… but you’d caused enough of a fuss. You couldn’t lay out any more of Dennis’ dirty laundry. Not before you got to see him at least, that’s for sure. “Medicine is an… interesting matter back home.”
“I see. Well, when we scan your bones, we’ll also make sure to get a good view of your lungs. Your temperature was pretty high when you showed up, so I don’t want to lie to you. This has the potential to be serious.” His words landed heavily between you, and you swallowed. You’d known that, of course you’d known that. You’d felt it. Why else would you run all the way out here?
You tried to calm the fears that were trying to take the reins in your mind. The foundation of what you knew, the soil of your mind, was screaming at you to cut loose and leave. The sins you were committing, the punishments that you were opening your arms wide to. God was meant to heal you. God was meant to heal all.
But the newer seeds, the ones you and Dennis had worked so hard to grow together, were reminding you that this was the right decision. X-rays were safe. Hospitals were safe. The doctors were here to help you. God had given you the two feet to take you to the doctor, hadn’t he? He’d dropped you to the floor and hand-delivered you to Dennis.
But at the end of the day, convincing yourself is always more work than you can handle. Even without the concussion, you’d wanted to hear it from him. He’d make it better. He always did. Dennis would walk you through the night.
Or at least, he always had.
Your throat got tight at the thought. What if he wouldn’t see you? Tears threatened your eyes as you let yourself spiral a touch.
“Miss? Did you, did you hear me? Dr. Robby rubbed you lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh- yes. Yes. X-ray. That’s… that’s a good plan.” Your breathing picked up involuntarily as you tried to staunch the incoming wave of emotions. Robby continued his sooth motion along your arm, making sure not to jostle your injuries.
“I’m going to make sure we get you seen as quick as we can, but it might be a while.” He stood, placing the bar at the side of your gurney up. “There’s a button right here that’ll call a nurse if you need anything.” He pointed to a small blue button on a thick-wired remote to your side. “We also have an amazing social worker named Kiara who can talk to you about any-”
“No.” You cut him off. “No social worker. Please.”
“Okay.” He put both hands up. “No social worker.” You nodded, and released a shaky breath. “I’ll be back to check on you soon. I’m sure some of my fellow doctors will be ‘interested’ in how you’re doing.” He sighed at the thought. “I’ll do my best to keep them at bay.” He gave the bar to your side a pat, sticking his hands in his pockets as he backed away slowly to the door. He lingered for a moment by the door, before swallowing whatever he’d been thinking about, and turning to you one more time.
“I’ll see you soon Miss-”
“-Whitaker.” You interrupted. You watched as all of the small thoughts you were sure had been taking root in Robby’s mind suddenly bloomed to life, all over his face. Every muscle coming alight with the new information. You took a deep breath, not letting it throw you. Instead, you pushed a small smile. “Mrs. Whitaker.”
Dr. Robby pushed the door open behind him, pulling his face into a soft gaze, despite his mind still visibly racing.
“Sounds like I should go find your husband.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Just hang tight for me.” Dr. Robby made his exit, passing by and shooing off the small cluster of doctors lingering around the entrance to your room. You put your head back on the gurney and looked up at the paneled ceiling.
It would be okay. Your husband would be here soon.
I finished Heated Rivalry (books) and went into the AO3 to see what was out there, and there was a fic with a tag, in reference to Shane, that said something like, “I’m sorry you were written by that woman.” And I’ve seen a similar sentiment a decent amount, stuff that basically from fans of this story that says that the show undeniably improved upon and perhaps redeemed a deeply flawed source material by an author we don’t need to respect. There was a post going around with a quote from Rachel Reid about the surrealness of being asked to speak at an event that had featured like Nobel prize winner and shit, and so many of the tags were like “I don’t respect her but this is funny.”
Is there a reason there seems to be such a constant background radiation of disliking the author of the source material? Genuinely, am I missing a controversy of some kind? Basic googling suggests much of the criticism is based on the question “can a woman who seems straight write these characters?” And people concluding that she did a bad job doing so. I’m coming from the place of being a woman who is not straight if that matters and I think Shane and Ilya feel queer. I think The Long Game did a good job of portraying the weight and burden of being closeted. I think there’s a balance in romance between Real Issues vs Romancelandia Genre Expectation, and the books did a fine job threading that needle.
If there’s some context I’m missing about this situation, I genuinely want to know. I saw some people talking about how she handles Shane’s race. As a Wasian from a family of Wasians, Shane felt fine to me. I can’t say anything about how Ilya and the portrayal of Russia, but I’m curious if the tv show does anything substantially different. Maybe when I watch more than one episode of the show, I’ll be really amazed by the adaptational choices, but so far it seems like a faithful adaptation. So like the tv show IS the story of the books. If you like the tv show, shouldn’t you have some basic level of respect for the foundation of it?
Frankly it feels like another case of “it’s cringe when a woman did it, but it’s amazing now a man did it.” Like a decade ago when Ryan Adams covered an entire Taylor Swift album, and critics were like “he really turned this piece of pop fluff into Art.” Why? What’d he do? Why’s it art now? Why wasn’t it art before? And if Reid is the person who should be writing this story anyway, it seems bizarre for your answer to be a firm “No, she shouldn’t”and then be fucking obsessed with that exact story anyway? If you like it, she wrote it! Why are you clowning on her for having written it? Even with the context of the showrunner being a gay man—which I think is great! And adds depth!—why are we like “thank god a man got a hold of this work”? Is that what makes it finally respectable?
You and your picky four-year-old daughter, June, become frequent faces in the ER, where the devoted Dr. “Rabbit” works. 1.3k
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“Alright, listen up. Trauma inbound. Highway pileup. One critical, three moderate behind. ETA four minutes. First patient is a female, intubated in the field, possible chest trauma. Let’s set up for rapid transfusion.”
“On it.”
Jack can't help but think of you. He knows you take the highway to work and that you'd be on it about this time. But he's also in charge; he has a job to do. His therapist would tell him to let go of what he cannot control.
He claps his hands together and instructs, “John, Katie, you’re with me. Ellis, cover the other three with Joy.”
“Got it.”
“Lena, what’s open?”
“Trauma one.”
Jack shimmies his arms into a paper gown, but doesn’t get a chance to knot it before the back doors fly open with their intubated woman on a stretcher.
“What happened to four minutes?”
“Got to keep you on your toes, grandpa,” the EMT teases.
Jack walks alongside as they drive the patient inside. He's glad it's not you, but guilty that it had to be someone else. He would normally have some quip for his EMT buddy about his lack of grandkids— or kids for that matter— if it weren’t for this woman’s distended belly turning black and blue.
“GCS was six on arrival. Intubated on scene. Seven-five tube, secured at twenty-two at the teeth. Bilateral breath sounds initially, diminished on the left about five minutes out.”
Jack’s eyes flick to the patient’s chest. “You decompress?”
“Needle decompression left side en route. Brief improvement in sats.”
“Pressures?”
“Started at ninety systolic. Dropped to seventy-eight despite a liter of fluids.”
“Any blood given?”
“Negative.”
“IV access?”
“Two eighteens.”
Jack nods once. “Alright. On my count— one, two, three.”
After the chest tube goes in, a rush of dark blood comes out. Massive internal trauma, what Jack feared. They push blood through the rapid infuser, and somebody starts compressions when her pressure crashes. The OR is alerted, but she codes before she can be moved.
Jack calls it. He chucks his gloves into the bin, fingers raking back the curls plastered to his forehead. It’s been a shit show of a night. He naively believed it couldn’t get worse before the end of his shift. His shift that ended thirty-five minutes ago.
While Jack loves what he does, some days it’s simply less forgiving than others. He wishes Robby were here to run the post-mortem debrief, to be the leader Jack’s residents deserve. But he buckles up his boot straps and breaks the somber silence in the room.
“We did good. There was nothing else we could’ve done. Night shift, go home. Get some rest.”
He’s retreating back to his favorite corner of the ED, to rinse his brain of the last thirteen hours and grab a drink of water from his bag, when he overhears Santos say, “Isn’t that Abbot’s lady friend?”
He’s quite perplexed because, for one, he’s single, and he knows what her tone is implying, and second, because he’s pretty sure Santos is into women and could not care less about his relationship status. But his gaze trips across the room to where you’re sitting, scrunched over yourself on a gurney in the hall.
His heart plummets right into his stomach. He’s still wearing the aftermath of the woman in trauma one on his gown when he rushes to you.
“What happened? Were you in the accident?”
You blink up at him like you’re surprised to see him in his own place of work. “I’m okay.”
"June?"
"At school."
“Have you been looked at? I sent Ellis over to— shit, let me see you.” He can’t breathe. And his brain is tumbling through words faster than his mouth can get them out.
“Some kid came by. Oger-bee, I think?”
“Ogilvie?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t trust Ogilvie with you, not for a second.
“He said I have a concussion,” you continue slowly. “But I dunno. I feel fine.”
Jack doesn’t waste any time arguing. He moves into your space carefully, forgoing a new pair of gloves.
“Hey, look at me for a second.” He slots your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting gently so your face catches the fluorescents. “Eyes open," he says, voice low. He checks your pupils first. Penlight out of his pocket like muscle memory. One eye, then the other. Watching for constriction, then for asymmetry. “Any double vision?”
“No.”
“Follow this.” He moves his finger slowly. Up. Down. Left to right and back. “Headache?”
“I told you, Jack, I’m fine.”
His eyes return to yours, pressing for the truth. He’s so pretty up close. Lashes dark as night and stubble like snow flurries.
“Barely,” you lie.
“Nausea? Dizziness? Light sensitivity?”
“No.”
He cups his palm across the base of your skull, your hair catching between his fingers.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “Neck pain?”
You shake your head. But when his fingers palpate along the knobs of your spine, you tense.
“Where’d you hit?”
You gesture vaguely to the strip of gown between your neck and chest. He feels up your arm instead, from your fingers to the ball of your shoulder, like some sort of weird massage. But it’s nice— his touching you. His hands are warm and heavy in a way that’s soothing. But then his thumb presses into your clavicle, and you flinch before you can help yourself.
Jack pauses and warns, “Again,” before pushing more deliberately. You squirm away from his touch with a wince.
“Lift your arm,” he asks, fingertips grazing the underside of your wrist to spot you.
You can lift it, but not fully. It's an immediate and shooting kind of pain.
“Okay. We’ll do an X-ray.” He lowers himself until he’s at eye level. “How many fingers?”
“Three.”
He nods. “What’s the date?”
You hesitate for half a second but answer correctly.
His jaw tightens visibly. All the stress he must keep there, you think.
“Do you remember what you had for breakfast?”
You think about it for an alarming amount of time. And he has no idea if you’re telling the truth or not so he considers it wrong.
“Any back pain?” His tone is serious but still warm, still Jack.
You say no much too quick for his liking.
He leans closer, palm sliding up against your mid-back. It’s nice. It’s almost like a hug.
“Where?” he asks, applying some pressure. Some more when you don't answer.
“There.”
He hums dissatisfactorily. “We’re imaging that too.”
“I’m okay, Jack. It’s probably just a bruise.”
“Better safe than sorry," he reasons. And he gifts you his first real smile of the day. He wants nothing more than for you to feel better and he hopes his pearly teeth will do the trick. Selfishly, he wants to hug you, too, to make himself feel better more than anything. He thinks you wouldn't mind, but you’re too injured— he’s afraid he’ll do more damage than good. Your arm gets a little rub in compromise. “Glad you’re okay,” he says, not as your doctor but as something more.
You grin back, masking the fatigue and the steady pulse of pain. “Me too.”
“I would’ve come first thing if I knew you were here, sweetheart. I wish somebody told me. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t be.”
“Let me run and grab you a sling.”
He turns the other way, but you grab his arm before he can get too far. “Wait, can you just… stay? Do you have a minute?”
He deflates like a big balloon. You have him wrapped around your finger, whether he’s willing to admit it or not. “Of course, I do. You need something, just say the word, okay?”
A wave of relief. “Thank you.”
He perches on the edge of your cot, and you lean into his shoulder despite how much it hurts. He feels a dozen eyes on him the second he takes your hand in both of his, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. Not with you and your gorgeous face pressed into his arm.
Gay!Dennis Whitaker x Wife!Reader (secret wife...) and also Hucklerobby if you squint. <33
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Summary: Ongoing small series where Whitaker's secret wife from the village back home in Broken Bow ends up in the Pitt. Whitaker is suddenly confronted with his old life crashing into the new one he's just started to grow.
CW: Nothing really. Medical inaccuracies out the wazoo because I'm lazy. Not proofread. Religious trauma/guilt/Bad upbringing will be mentioned. Lavender marriage/marriage of convenience. There is a child lol so get ready for that. Mostly soft and sweet stuff about living your truth and getting away. I am a long-time Tumblr user and very new Tumblr poster... I'm new to Tumblr tags so pls help me out if I missed anything important.
WC: 1.5k
This is part one. Read Part 2. I will add the other parts as soon as they arrive :)
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It always does tend to be some random Tuesday when your life comes crashing down.
Dennis liked PTMC. More than anyone there thought he would, and a hell of a lot more than he’d expected to. He’d expected it to be just like everything else. Fine. Passable. Good enough. That was how he’d gone through most of life, doing just enough to get a pat on the head, without affording himself any real attention. That was how he liked it. How he needed it.
But PTMC didn’t let him stay that way.
The new feeling he’d found in Pittsburgh… At first he didn’t know what to call it. Pride was too strong. Abbot and Robby were proud. Confidence too loud, too much. Trinity and Langdon were confident. Dennis was… comfortable. It was the strangest way to describe an emergency department, what with the constant bustle and stress, but the more he let it roll around in his mind, the more he knew it was the right one. He was comfortable now, like he’d never been. Standing taller, bigger, brighter.
It should only be natural then that the moment he’d decided he was comfortable, that God should pull the rug out. That was what he’d done Dennis’ whole life, and it turns out you can’t outrun God’s sense of humor by crossing state lines.
“Young woman, mid 20s, blunt head trauma, likely clavicle fracture. Barely responsive!” That was how it began, with the paramedic’s clear voice ringing out across central. Dennis jumped to his feet, chart forgotten. He was already at the trauma bay by the time “Whitaker, Ogilvie, and Joy- with me.” Had left Dr. Robby’s mouth. The attending afforded him a smile, one second, before they threw themselves through the doors and into the task at hand, ducklings in tow.
“She take a fall?” Joy asked, running around taking care of GCS.
“Must’ve been off a bike or something. Unless she has the bone integrity of a 75 year old. Who breaks their collarbone on a walk?” Ogilvie chimed in. Dennis scowled, but bit his tongue.
“Good samaritan called from the train station. Said she passed out and hit the tile too hard.”
After the day was over, he’d berate himself for taking so long to recognize her. Even with all the chatter. I mean seriously. Someone you love is on a gurney, bleeding and beeping, and it takes you a full five minutes to forget about taking off her shoes and focus on her face and–
“Oh fuck.” Everyone’s head snapped to him, and his horrified look.
There you were, exactly the same as you lived in his mind, now clad in nothing but the clothes they’d cut off you and the tubes coming in and out of your bare body. He looked away quickly, but he wasn’t sure why. He knew you wouldn’t mind. He’d seen it all before.
“Whitaker? Whitaker, you good? Talk to me.” Robby’s voice was inconsequential as Dennis’ breaths came heavier.
He bent over, staring at the floor. He might as well have been on another planet. It was too much. You were here. Here in his hospital. In Pittsburgh. Over a thousand miles from where you were supposed to be. Where you said you’d always be. In the train station? What were you doing at the train station? Hair mussed, face red, and eyes bleared with tears and most likely a severe concussion. Oh fuck, what if you were really hurt? What if he needed to call your parents? Who would take care of-
“Whitaker!” Robby’s hand on his shoulder was the final jolt. He bolted.
He wasn’t even sure where he was going. Just away. Away from you. Away from your blood soaking the sheets, from the empty look in your eyes. Away from the questions he knew were coming.
The wind coming off the roof was the only thing putting air into his lungs. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent there. Nothing seemed to move anymore.
He knew this wasn’t how he should be handling things. He should be calming himself. Grounding. Getting it the fuck together. But then again, he’d always been a sissy.
No. He didn’t need to think that way anymore. He knew that. In and out. That’s what he needed to do. He could do that. In. Out. The skyline was shining with midday sun. In. Out. The clouds were drifting softly through blue skies. In. Out. In. Out.
He stepped back from what he realized was much too close to the edge. He ran a hand through his ever-growing mullet. Oh god, what would you say when you woke up? Saw him like this? Logically he knew he probably didn’t look that different… but Trinity’s scissor-razor handiwork was surely not all the rage in Nebraska as it was here. You’d have some quip, that’s for sure. Probably something about him fitting right in with Ma’s hairy goats. Billy, Shitty, and Dennis. A right trio.
He didn’t even realize he was smiling at the thought until a voice broke through.
“Didn’t expect to see you smiling up here.” Robby stood in the doorway, propping it open with his foot. “You plan on rejoining the party with that good mood?” When Dennis didn’t move, he let the door fall shut behind him, shuffling out to meet him.
“Sorry- sorry Dr. Robby I- there’s something I have to-”
“I respect a good mid-workday freakout as much as anyone, kid, but I can’t have my doctors running off mid-trauma.” Dennis watched the emotions swirl through Robby’s big brown eyes, like the morning coffee being poured. You always made such good coffee. No one in Pittsburgh could replicate your touch. “Kid! I lost you again already.” Dennis snapped back to it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, stop being sorry. Start being here.”
“I will. I will.”
“You ready to come back down? Or is there something you still need to
sort out up here?” Robby looked around, the wind tussling his hair softly.
Dennis could watch something playing out in his mind in the moments he gave Dennis to answer. Something Dennis wasn’t a part of. He could hardly blame Robby for it. There was a whole lot that Dennis wasn’t a part of these days.
“No, no I’m okay. I swear.” He said it with a gulp, swallowing any other stupid qualifiers that might want to follow it. Robby turned back to him with a small jump.
“Good.” He clasped his hand around Dennis’ shoulder, giving him a little shake. “Can’t have my best doctor off the floor for long.”
“The best?” Dennis echoed with a little laugh. He tried not to let his nose
get red. Robby gave him that patented shrug of his, but another smile was tugging at his lips. He began walking backwards. Oh well, Dennis could blame it on the wind. Or a cold. Maybe he could go home early and pretend this never happened. Yeah, abandon her twice. That’ll fix things.
“If anyone asks, I never said it. Certainly not after they all watched you jump ship.” Robby joked. That successfully snapped Dennis to attention.
”I suppose everyone’s already…”
“Big time. She didn’t even give you a chance. Santos is all over it. Javadi was pretending to chart when I came and got you but…” Dennis groaned to that.
“Just give me a second, I need to throw my phone off the roof first.” He made a half-step back, but couldn’t bring himself to commit to the joke any further. Not that it was much of a joke. He knew the notifications would be racing in as fast as his thoughts if he didn’t get back down there.
She’s asking for you, y’know.” Robby almost whispered it, kneading one of his strong hands in the other.
“Santos?” He asked, voice rising in confusion.
“What? No. Our patient.” Robby pushed the door open, beckoning Dennis with his head. Dennis obeyed. It was time to face the music. They made their way into the stairwell, an unspoken question filling the air in the tall passage. Dennis took a big breath in, unwilling to let it choke him.
“She’s awake?”
“Thank goodness.”
“And talking?”
“Enough.”
Dennis could feel his hands get clammy. He knew the answer. He knew what Robby was going to say but he needed to hear it. Before Santos’ quips and Javadi’s sideways smirk. Before Joy’s silent calculations and Ogilvie's jaw on the floor. He needed it to be Robby to help him accept this new truth. The truth that now, starting today, he knew. That they all knew now, about you.
“Did she tell you her name?”
Robby stopped his descent, but to Dennis’ surprise, when Robby turned his face was soft. No judgement, no fear. That was all Dennis. He knew Robby could see it. It was practically vibrating off him.
“She did. I got to welcome one Mrs. Whitaker to The Pitt.”