warnings: semi-established relationship, first official kiss/makeout, awkward!dennis, sexual tension, mutual pining, mentions of sex/stress relief, mentions of burnouts/mental stress, super awkward, medical terminology
w/c: 4.6k
notes: sorry it’s taken so long for me to do a pt. 2. you can find part one here. not related to season 2 or the plot in any way. (@uzmacchiato for dividers)
4 pm
The hallway felt like it was vibrating, nurses running back and forth, patients groaning from their pain, monitors beeping in the background. Nurses weaved around each other, stretchers rolled past you in quick blurs of reds. You pressed your back against the wall for half a second, making way for two stretches pushing past each other to the next available trauma.
You rub the back of your head, trying to ease the tightness building the before sliding your hand under a nearby automatic sanitizer dispenser. The cold foams in your palm as you briskly rub it in, making your way to your patient in room three.
A thirty‑year‑old woman with a headache. Should’ve been simple. But her labs and CT scan didn’t really come out perfectly.
You gently knock on the door before slowly opening it with a small smile. “Hi, so sorry about the wait,” you close the door behind you, quickly approaching the bed as the woman looks up. “How do you feel?”
She presses one hand to her temple, letting out a heavy sigh. “These lights are killing me,” you do a quick 180 back towards the door, dimming the lights with a flick of your wrist. “That’s—thanks, much better.”
You nod, pulling the chart closer as you approach the bed once again. “The results came back, I don’t see anything dangerous, but I think it would be safe to take another look at you.”
You push through another quick physical exam, checking the way her pupils reacted, checking her vitals. You slip your stethoscope around your neck, tucking your hands into the pockets of your scrubs. “Can you turn your head side to side?”
She blinks once but slowly turns her head from left to right, you gently press two fingers to the side of her neck. Feeling the tension in her muscles, you lean back again, crossing your arms over your chest. You do another quick double check on her reflexes, but she winces with every movement.
“And you’re sure you haven’t fallen in the last week? Maybe moved your head too quickly? Rollercoasters? Anything like that?” She hesitates before shaking her head slowly.
“No, no way. I hate rollercoasters, but I don’t even get migraines like this.”
You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you tap your pen against the clipboard once as you think. No bleeding, no mass, not benign. You rub the side of your head, smacking your lips together. “Okay, I will be right back. Don’t worry, we’re going to figure this out.”
She nods, relieved just to be heard. You turn back to her, grabbing the clipboard from the computer desk. “Would you like ice water?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll let your nurse know.” You slip out of the room, letting the door slowly close behind you. The hallway noise hits you immediately, carts rolling, voices overlapping, a patient yelling to be seen. You take a shaky breath in, pinching the side of your arm as you think of your next steps.
More labs.
Possibly cervical artery dissection?
You inhale slowly, steadying yourself, before sanitizing your hands again. Your head is still reeling from the last patient, but the next chart is already waiting for you on the rack.
Shoulder injury. Possible dislocation.
Great.
You knock on the door, waiting a second before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
A man in his late twenties sits hunched on the edge of the bed, cradling his right arm against his chest. His face is pale, jaw clenched so tight you can literally hear the grinding of his teeth.
“Hi,” you say gently, stepping closer. “I’m Dr. Maris, I’ll be taking care of you today. What happened?”
He lets out a shaky breath, scooting back as you slipped on some gloves. “Uh, football. My asshole brother slammed me into some light post.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, already assessing. His shoulder is visibly lower on one side, the arm held protectively in internal rotation. “I’m just gonna take a look, I won’t move anything without warning you.”
He nods, sweat beading at his hairline as you feel gently around the joint, before nodding to yourself. “It’s dislocated. We’re gonna get you some pain medication and then put it back in place.”
His eyes widen, leaning back quickly. “Is that gonna hurt?”
“A little, but it probably won’t hurt as much as getting body slammed into a pole.”
He let out a shaky laugh, watching as you discarded your gloves and stepped out briefly to return with a nurse. The nurse administers the pain meds, lingering by the patient’s side with a cup of water. You return to your patient once the meds have kicked in, pulling up a stool to sit in front of him.
“Alright,” you roll your shoulders back. “I’m going try to be as gentle as possible, you’ll feel some tension and pressure, and then there’s gonna be a loud pop.”
He nods quickly, sitting up straight as you position his arm carefully. Supporting the elbow, you guide the humeral head back toward where it belongs. You feel the resistance, the moment where the joint is almost ready to slide back. “Wait wait. Can you count to three?” He stumbles quickly, looking up at you as you hesitate.
“Are you sure? Your body natural tenses itself as countdown for preparation of potential pain, so it could hurt more.” He blinks rapidly, immediately shaking his head as he takes a deep breath.
“Okay, deep breath.” You coax softly, waiting until he sucks in a slow breath before quickly applying steady gentle traction.
POP!
The joint slips back into place with a clean, satisfying shift. The patient yelps in surprise, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline before letting out a small relieved sigh. “Ow! Oh— oh that feels so much better. Wow.”
You smile down at him, giving him a quick nod as you push the stool back into its original position. “Told you.” You check his range of motion, slowly lifting it up before securing his arm in a sling.
“I’ll get imaging to confirm alignment, but you’re already looking much better.”
He laughs awkwardly, scratching his scalp as he sighs again. “You’re good at this.”
“Just try not to play football nearby streets for a while.”
“Yeah, no. I’m definitely milking this.” You snicker at him, shaking your head as you step out the room. Your smile immediately falters, one hand coming up to wipe the coldness from your forehead before looking up as a nurse rushes past with a chart in hand.
“Dr. Maris? We’ve got a new one in.” You glance down at the chart she shoves in your hand before sighing softly. You flex your hands a few times to shake away the faint tremble.
Room nine. Tachy. Hypotensive.
You close your eyes for a second, quickly opening them again as you sanitized your hands. Knocking on the door, you pushed the door open. The man on the bed was in his forties, drenched in sweat, chest heaving like he was trying to pull air through a straw. His skin was pale, his fingers trembled where they clutched the sheets.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Maris. I’m going to help you, okay?” He nodded weakly, unable to speak.
You moved fast, checking his vitals first. His heart rate was too high, bp too low, oxygen not stable. You grabbed the nasal cannula and slipped it over his face. “Deep breaths for me.”
He tried, but each inhale was strained and shallow. You listened to his lungs. Crackles everywhere. Fluid. Way too much fluid.
“Have you ever had heart problems?” You asked, already reaching for the chart.
He shook his head, breath hitching. “No—no—just… started today…”
You checked his legs, carefully rolling the gown up to study the swelling there. His neck veins were distended. His skin cold and clammy. You looked up at him with a reassuring smile before patting his arm. “I will be right back.”
You quickly turned out the room, looking for a nearby nurse. “Hey uhh— John. With me,” the nurse quickly looks up, looking around for a second before standing up, nearly tripping over himself. You sighed softly, staring up at the ceiling as you stepped back towards the room with John trailing behind. You turned back around, John nearly bumps into you but quickly steps back. “IV access. Oxygen. Full set of labs, portable chest X-ray.”
John nods quickly, turning down to run down the hallway. You turned back to the patient, opening the door and stepping into the room. Lowering the head of the bed slightly, you helped him adjust his position to ease the strain on his lungs.
“You’re doing great.” You said, even though he very much wasn’t.
The door swings open as John rushes inside to hand you the IV kit, awkwardly looking between the patient and you. “Do you want me to do the—”
“I got it.” You look over at him before motioning for him to give you room. You’re already sliding the rubber band around the patient’s arm, struggling to find a vein. You press against his arm, cleanly slipping the catheter in and tapping it down gently.
“Start a line of Lasix. Forty milligrams IV.”
John nodded and moved quickly. You stayed at the bedside, one hand on the patient’s shoulder, grounding him as his breathing hitched again.
“You’re okay,” you reassured, guiding him in slow breaths. “It’s okay.“
His eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling as he took a sharp breath. The oxygen hissed softly, but the Lasix had barely started dripping when you noticed the subtle shift in his breathing. You stepped closer, gently patting his shoulder as his eyes unfocused for half a second too long.
“Hey. Stay with me,” you nudged him slightly, looking up at the monitor before doing a quick double take as he choked out on another strained breath. “Mr. Riverson?”
You glanced at the monitor again, eyebrows furrowing at his stats. His heart rate was too fast, and his oxygen was still too low. You wiped your clammy hands on your pants, leaning over him as you patted his shoulder. “Mr. Riverson, can you hear me?”
His head lolled to the side limply, you stared down at him before snatching the oxygen mask from John’s hands. John helped you switch the nasal cannula to non-rebreather, adjusting the seal as you checked the patient’s pulse. “Come on, come on.” You muttered repeatedly, tilting the bed back as you listened for breathing sounds.
“Suction catheter.” You held a hand out towards John as he quickly fumbled for it, stepping back as you cleared the patient’s airway. You quickly looked over your shoulder as the door swung open, but you’re unable to register the monitor beeping faster.
John rushes aside as another nurse pushes a crash cart at full speed. The monitor flatlined into a jagged, chaotic rhythm.
“Pads on. Charge to 200.” John quickly turns to tear open the patient’s gown as the other nurse clasps the defibrillator pads onto his chest. The machine charged, the rising whine filling the room.
The nurse steps back, motioning to John to approach the machine. John quickly hits the button, but you’re halfway into fixing the patient’s position. A sharp static shock runs up your arms, jolting back as you yelp in surprise. “Ow! What the fu—” You immediately look up at John whose fingers are still lingering on the button, face bright red. The nurse beside you has a hand clamped over her mouth.
“I’m— I’m so so sorry—” You wiggle your fingers at the tingling feeling, but despite the fact that it feels like you just touched an electric fence with a sopping wet hand, you shake your head.
“Again. Charge to 200. Say ‘clear’ before you hit the button.” You glance over at the nurse beside you, who quickly nudges John aside to take his place by the machine.
You pressed two buzzing fingers to the patient’s neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing. You pull your hands away as the nurse nods.“Clear!”
Another shock. Another flicker on the screen.
This time, the rhythm stumbled, then caught, then steadied again. You exhaled shakily, your shoulders dropping half an inch. The patient’s chest rose, shallow, but there.
The room was still humming with leftover chaos, the crash cart half‑open, the monitor beeping in a rhythm that finally sounded like a heartbeat instead of a pacer test. You kept your hand on his wrist, fingers pressed lightly over the pulse point.
The nurse adjusted the oxygen mask. “Pressure’s coming up. 94 over 58.”
You nodded, exhaling for what felt like the first time in minutes. “Good. Keep the fluids slow. I don’t want to overload him again.” You curled your shaking hands into fists at your sides until it stopped.
The man on the bed shifted, barely but enough to notice. His eyelids fluttered once. Twice. Then slowly, they opened.
You leaned in slowly. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay. Just a small little— scare.” His gaze was unfocused at first, drifting across the ceiling before landing on you. Confusion flickered there, then fear, then something like recognition as he reached out to touch the mask.
“What happened?”
“Your heart wasn’t pumping the way it needed to. We had to shock you to bring it back, but…you’re safe and stable and doing really well now.”
He swallowed hard, chest rising in a shaky breath. His eyes darted from you to the other nurses before looking up at the ceiling. “Thank you.”
You gave him a small smile, his breathing steadied as the nurses quietly cleaned up around the area. The monitor beeped in a slow, reassuring rhythm, leaving the room in a mainly peaceful quiet. You stayed at the bedside, adjusting the blanket, checking the monitor again before stepping out of the room.
The hallway lights felt brighter than before, the noise of the unit rushing back in like someone turned up the volume to 100. You inhaled slowly, hands still trembling and aching. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving this hollow ache in your chest. You could barely get a second breath in before a nurse passed by with a quick smile. “Good job in there.”
You nodded silently, watching as she walked away before making your way to the nurse’s station. You rubbed your forehead with the heel of your hand, trying to push the pain away. You exhaled slowly, wiping the exhaustion from your face.
Your chest felt tight in that familiar weight of too many hours, too many patients and too many moments where you had to be the calm one even though you weren’t. You straightened your shirt, and forced your shoulders back into place, stepping down the hallway.
You sanitized your hands again, knocking, waiting and opening the door. A middle aged woman lay curled on her side, one hand pressed to her stomach.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Maris, I’ll be helping you today. I’m just gonna take a quick look at you, okay?” You approach the patient quickly, waiting for his nod before carefully starting your exam. Your hands moved automatically, muscle memory taking over as you checked for rigidity.
“Does it hurt more here,” you pressed lightly against the side of her stomach. “Or here?” You pressed towards the middle of her stomach, pulling your hand back as she winced.
“Yes. Yes, right there.”
You nodded pulling away from the bed to jot down some notes. You blinked hard, trying to clear the fog creeping in around the edges of your focus. You stepped back, rubbing your forehead with the heel of your hand.
“You okay, doc?”
You flinched in surprise, looking up at the nurse who’d been watching you quietly as she was adjusting the IV. You weren’t sure what was worse, the fact that she was looking at you with concern or the fact that you hadn’t even noticed she was there. You straightened quickly, grabbing your clipboard. “Yeah. Fine.”
She didn’t push, but her eyes shifted down to your clammy hands on your chart before turning back to the patient.
You looked down slowly. Your hands were trembling again, enough that the pen in your fingers quivered and the notes you took were all slanted like your handwriting was permanently italicized.
The nurse stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “You want me to grab Patel?.”
You shook your head immediately. “No. I’m fine.”
She studied you for a beat, then nodded slowly. “Alright.“
You turned back to the patient, forcing your shoulders to square, your voice to steady. “Okay. I’m concerned about your abdomen. I’m going to order some imaging and labs so we can figure out what’s going on.”
You stepped out of the room, getting a moment of deja vu as you entered the hallway again. You pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to quiet the pounding in your head before making your way to the computer station. The words blurred, the labs blended together, and your brain felt like it was moving through molasses. You blinked hard, trying to force your focus back into place.
It didn’t work.
You rubbed your temples, breath shallow as you crossed your arms. Your legs felt heavy, like you were walking through wet sand, but you kept moving.
“Hey,” you straightened a little as Dana slid up beside you, a cup of water in one hand and a look on her face that said she’d been watching you longer than you realized. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Thanks.” You said sarcastically, turning to face her.
Dana handed you the cup, tilting her head at you. “When’s the last time you took five?”
Your eyes drifted back to the screen, taking a sip of the water before shrugging. “I don’t even know.” She leaned her hip against the counter, crossing her arms, studying you with that sharp, nurse‑intuition stare.
“Are you ever going to take five?”
You quickly turned to her, eyebrows furrowing as you glanced towards your current patient. “Yeah, when I get home.” You laughed slightly, but Dana didn’t laugh with you. You awkwardly took another sip.
“Cool. Take five.”
“Alright.”
7 pm
By the time you finally signed your last note, the unit had gone quiet with the shift to night. Your ears were permanently clogged in this state of pressure, and you were sure your head was two seconds away from imploding. Your body felt heavy, like you jumped into a pool fully clothed.
You peeled off your gloves, tossed them out, and leaned your hip against the counter. You couldn’t even count on two hands how many patients you had today. And half of those were such close calls. You had about enough emotional ups and downs for the year.
You were reaching for your bag when you heard footsteps behind you, taking your hair out of the clawclip it was in. You looked over your shoulder as Dennis hesitantly approached, one hand knocking absentmindedly against the countertop.
“Hey.”
“Oh, hey.” You nodded at him, running your fingers through your hair to soothe the tension on your scalp. “You heading out too?”
He nodded quietly, biting down on his bottom lip as he watched you pour yourself a cup of water. “Yeah, I, uh… saw you were done. Wanted to check on you.”
You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow as you quickly downed your little paper cup of water. “Oh, that’s sweet but I’m fine.”
Dennis hummed quietly, glancing out the side of his eyes as you tossed the cup into the garbage. “You sure? Because I heard Dana talking to Perlah abo—”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, eyes searching his as he quickly shook his head.
“Dana was just worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Honestly. I didn’t even need to take a break, I just— thank you, Denny, but I’m fine.” You gave him a quick smile, rubbing the heaviness of your eyes as you stepped out of the break room. You pulled your bag over your shoulder, walking down the hallway as he mindlessly followed you.
The two of you walked in silence before he finally caved in after two minutes. “I just wanna say, you can talk to me about this stuff y’know? I got a lot better at motivational speeches since last time.”
You peeked over at him, nodding slowly before blowing a raspberry. “Well, I don’t really need a motivational speech. I need to sleep.”
You paused, the doors of the building sliding open and smacking the two of you with cold night air. The night air hit you like a shock, instantly rejuvenating you from the funk you were in. You tugged your coat tighter around you and started down the sidewalk. Your legs were still heavy, brain foggy in that way that meant you were instantly passing out when you got home.
“Right, sleep,” he glanced down at his watch, looking up at you as he nudged his shoulder against yours. “I can help with that.”
You quickly gave him a triple take, cheeks burning slightly. “What?”
At the look on your face, he hesitated, mouth dropping slightly as his eyebrows raised up. “What? No—no not like that. I meant more like a…a I’ll-give-you-a-recipe-to-a-tea-I-like, way.”
“Right, and you didn’t mean sex?” You teased lightly to which he rolls his eyes, giving you a little grin.
“No, of course not.”
“Of course not?” You repeat with a small tone of fake offense. He falters slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to answer without offending you or sound like the world’s biggest pervert.
“Uhh,” he looks away, quickly diverting the conversation somewhere safer. “You walking home?”
“Yeah.”
“Mind if I come with?”
You hesitated. He was already walking beside you, and it’s not like it was a long walk. “Sure.”
The two of you walked in silence for a minute, the only sound the clack of concrete under your shoes and the distant hum of traffic. Your shoulders slowly loosened, the tension bleeding out with every step. Dennis glanced at you, looking both ways at a crosswalk before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“Yes,” he says suddenly, looking away as you look up at him for him to elaborate. When he realizes you didn’t understand his sudden response, he closes his eyes tightly. “Your question earlier.”
You swallowed the little lump in your throat, clearing your throat to actual casual. “Yes you meant sex or yes you didn’t mean sex?” The two of you turn a corner of long buildings, rapidly approaching your apartment building which loomed down the block eerily.
He didn’t answer, just nodded his head to himself as he looked down at his feet. He kicked aside a stray rock, licking his lips as he looked over at you again. “I feel like… is there a wrong answer?”
You slowly shake your head, rubbing your hands together to sneak some warmth back in. “No answer is the wrong answer.” He let out a short laugh, huffing slightly before shrugging.
“The first one.”
You immediately looked towards the street to hide the warmth in your face, eyes following a well timed car as it drove down the semi-empty street. You didn’t have a witty response for that, so you just kept walking until the two of you reached the steps of your apartment building.
You rocked on the balls of your feet, turning to him with a small sigh. You leaned against the railing of the stairs, crossing your arms over your jacket. “Thank you for walking me.”
He smiled, small and warm. “Of course,” he looked up the building, looking through the dozens of apartment lights for its owners. You stared up at him as he looked away before looking over at the front door as someone stepped out.
You pressed your lips together, looking back at him as he cleared his throat. “Text me before you go to sleep.” You nodded slightly, taking one step up the concrete stairs before turning back around. He had taken approximately two and a half steps away from your building.
“Do you want to…come inside?” You leaned against the railing, hands clutching the metal for emotional support. He quickly turns at the sound of your voice, tilting his head slightly.
“In—inside?”
“In the house, Denny.”
“Oh, right! Yeah, sure.” You laughed despite yourself, stepping up the steps as he quickly followed after you.
8 pm
The two of you were very well behaved when you got into your apartment. Dennis kicked off his shoes, neatly setting them aside as you wriggled out of your jacket. Closing the door behind him, he looked around with a lack of subtly. Taking it the comforting decor and the warmth of your furniture, he stepped in after you.
The first stop was the kitchen, you offered him a glass of water to which he gulped down in two greedy gulps. You plopped onto your couch with a pleased sigh, feet throbbing after finally being given a chance to actually relax. Your body practically melted into the comfort of the couch, stretching out with a small smile.
You weren’t sure what happened. It was the weirdest thing ever. One minute you’re just relaxing with Denny on the couch, the next you’re somehow in your bedroom. Soo weird.
His lips molded against yours in a slow, languid mess. Your hands were wrapped around the back of his head, his own hands fumbling behind you as the two of you plopped against the bed in a tangle of limbs. You stumbled up onto your elbows, lips mashing together in desperation.
His hands hesitantly inched down to your hips, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. You breathed heavily as he broke the kiss, his lips quickly pressing against your jaw. Your eyebrows furrowed together, eyes fluttering slightly as his lips sucked lightly against a particularly sensitive spot. A wave of butterflies washed over you, tummy numbing with the first flutters of pleasure.
“Wait, wait, that tickles.” You mumbled breathlessly, licking your bottom lip as he placed another kiss under your jaw. You could feel the uptilt of his lips at your response, inching back up to press another quick kiss on your lips.
“Where else are you ticklish?” He asked against your lips, pressing another kiss, and another and another as he gently guided you to lay on your back. You rested one hand on his shoulder, lifting your head up to chase after his lips as he pulled away again.
His hands roamed further and further down until he was grabbing at the soft flesh of your thighs. You hesitated for a moment, letting out a slow exhale as you leaned your head back. “Are you only asking to ask or are you interested in finding out?”
His eyes quickly snapped up to you, chest heaving at the thought of merely seeing more of you. His hands dragged along your thighs with a reverence, sliding back up to rest against your ribs. “I wanna find out.” He breathed out, tilting his head slightly to focus his lips on your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access, eyes clamped shut as he mouthed over your pulse point.
At the slight pinch of his teeth against your skin, you felt a shiver run up your spine, clenching your thighs together. By the time you finally opened your eyes, he was already looking down at you with a glazed look in his eyes. He inched his body further down, hooking his arm under one of your knees, carefully guiding your legs apart. “Denny, what are you—”
the 4 times dennis hurt you and the one time he couldn’t look away from it anymore
dennis whitaker x fem! reader (one shot) | the pitt ★
wc 9.9k genre hurt to comfort warnings intended lowercase, established relationship, ‘baby’ used as a pet name, jealousy (coming both from dennis and the reader), talks of wanting to break up, arguments, suggestive, swearing, alcohol, reader doesn’t work at PTMC (she’s in college and works part-time as a barista in a coffee shop, major unspecified), whitaker lives with reader instead of santos
summary after treating a patient who later passes away, whitaker grows closer to amy, the man’s widow, a farm girl soon to become a mother. he decides to help her, and your relationship begins to change. you try to be understanding, but over time your unhappiness grows, and dennis continues to overlook it until it becomes impossible to ignore.
author’s note part of this fic is inspired by this fic written by @bitchinbarzal make sure to check it out !! i really liked the setting of that fic and wanted to add my own twist to it. : )
EDIT: part 2 of this fic is in the works, however since it was intended as a oneshot initially, you can still read this story on its own : )
after dennis came home from his first shift at the pittsburgh ER, he was devastated. you welcomed him with a tight hug and let him sink into you on your shared bed.
he had called you from the hospital, saying he’d have to stay longer because of the pittfest shooting, and the entire time you waited, you kept hoping he’d be okay, that the day wouldn’t break him completely.
by the time he finally walked through the door, his expression alone said more than a thousand words ever could. so that night, you simply held him, gently playing with his hair until he fell asleep in your arms. you let him process it all without asking questions. you were there if he needed to talk, but by now you knew him well enough to see when all he really needed was to be held.
the next morning, you woke up a little earlier and went to make him an omelette, his favorite, along with coffee. as you were still preparing everything, you felt two arms wrap around you from behind.
“morning, sleepyhead. you okay?” you murmured softly as he rested his head against your shoulder.
in response, he just nodded, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck, which made you let out a quiet giggle.
“just a few more minutes and you’ll get to eat. if you feel like it, you can tell me about… yesterday,” you whispered.
“i’d like that…” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before letting go and moving to sit at the table.
and then he told you everything. after resting and eating, his cheeks still full of food made with love, he opened up about the patient he lost, about how many times he had to change his scrubs, the rats running around the emergency room, how out of place he felt among all the confident, skilled doctors, and then the tragedy at the end of the day. you just listened, letting him get it all out.
it was also the first time he mentioned amy, though at the time you didn’t think much of it.
he said he was glad he could soothe her, even just a little, but that it was heartbreaking knowing she was carrying the child of someone who would never get to see their baby’s face.
still, it was one of the rare moments he felt truly helpful and useful during the shift, especially when he offered to help her at the farm and her entire demeanor seemed to calm down a little.
you nodded along, thinking it was just something he said in the moment to comfort someone, especially a grieving woman, but as the months passed, you slowly realized that his promise to amy had never been empty at all.
꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺
the first time you were left feeling hurt by your sweet dennis was during a weekend.
a lot of time had passed since his first shift, and dennis had changed in a lot of ways. he had grown a mullet, picked up a bit of sass from his colleague trinity santos, who you got along with pretty well whenever you visited dennis at the hospital to drop off lunch or something he had forgotten that day, and overall, it seemed like he had finally found his place in emergency medicine, but with that came more responsibility and less time for the two of you.
if it wasn’t him who was busy, it was you, juggling college classes, assignments, and your part time job all at once. so your dates with denny usually ended up indoors, curled up watching a movie that faded into the background as you either fell asleep or, on better nights, got distracted by each other. dennis always seemed far more interested in your lips and the soft warmth of your body than whatever storyline was playing on the tv anyways.
but this weekend was supposed to be different. for once, both of you were mostly free, and he had promised to take you somewhere fancy. you deserved it, he said. you deserved to be taken care of for once, after all the days you spent taking care of him.
“doll yourself up and leave everything to me. i have to stop by somewhere in the morning, but by four i’ll come get you and we’ll spend a lovely day together, okay?” he had said earlier, while you looked at him with a sleepy smile. he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, lingering just for a second as he admired you, beautiful even like this, soft and unguarded in the morning light, before heading out.
that was hours ago.
now it was already thirty minutes past four. you were sitting in your shared bedroom, your makeup done, your hair styled, dressed in one of your prettiest dresses. it hugged your figure perfectly, always earning you that soft, stunned “wow” from dennis, even though he had seen you wear it countless times. it was his favorite.
but he was nowhere to be seen.
you had called and texted him, but every call went straight to voicemail, and your messages stayed on delivered.
when you thought about it more, a quiet unease settled in your chest. denny hadn’t even told you where he was going. the thought made your stomach twist. did something happen to him?
the longer you waited, the worse it felt. the dress, that made you feel pretty just a little while ago, now felt too tight, pressing against your ribs as your anxiety crept in. your makeup started to feel heavy on your skin, suffocating, and your perfectly styled hair pulled at your scalp until it began to ache.
when you glanced at the clock again, it was already almost six.
and just as you were about to call trinity, ready to fully freak out, you heard the door softly open. you hurried over, only to see dennis by the door, calmly taking off his shoes like nothing had happened.
“hey… sorry i’m late,” he said quietly, his voice a little uneven. then he finally looked up at you.
you just stared at him, trying to process it. this wasn’t like him. he had been late before, sure, but he used to be the one to panic, rushing in, apologizing over and over like the world was ending. now he just stood there.
“you look really pretty,” he added after a second, quieter than usual. no soft “wow” no hint of that familiar warmth. he just sounded kind of tired.
“i’ll take a quick shower and we can still go somewhere. i’ll find a place, i’m sure something’s open…”
“dennis,” you cut in, your voice tighter than you meant it to be. “where were you?”
he paused, clearly not expecting that.
“i told you, i’m sorry. i just got held up—”
“you didn’t respond to me. not once,” you said, stepping closer. “i called you like five times. i had no idea where you were or if something happened. do you get that?”
he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know, i know. i should’ve texted. it just… got busy.”
“busy where?”
there was a small pause before he answered. “at the farm. with amy.”
you blinked, thrown off. “amy?”
“yeah. she needed help. i thought i’d just stop by for a bit, do something small, but…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “her baby’s only a few weeks old and she was really overwhelmed. i didn’t feel right just leaving her there like that.”he said it like it was obvious, like it made perfect sense.
“so you stayed. for hours,” you said slowly.
he didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough.
“are you serious right now?” your voice rose before you could stop it. “you stood me up, didn’t pick up your phone, and you’re telling me it’s because you didn’t want to leave another woman alone? and not just a woman, but the widow of your deceased patient? do you hear yourself?”
“hey, i said i’m sorry,” he replied, a bit sharper now. “what was i supposed to do? just walk out when she’s clearly struggling?”
“you could’ve texted me,” you shot back. “you could’ve told me anything. i’ve been sitting here for almost two hours thinking something happened to you.”
he sighed, like the whole thing was exhausting. “okay, yeah. i should’ve texted. i get it.”
“no, you don’t get it,” you said, shaking your head. “this wasn’t just ‘you forgot to text.’ you made plans. you promised.”
he looked at you for a moment, then shrugged slightly. “i mean… it’s not like you’re dealing with a newborn right now, unlike her.”
the second the words left his mouth, the air shifted.
you just stared at him in disbelief. “wow. okay.”
he ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer. “that’s not what i meant. i just… look, i miss nebraska sometimes, okay? being out there, helping like that… it feels familiar. it feels like i’m actually doing something that matters.”
“and this doesn’t?” you asked quietly.
he hesitated. “that’s not what i said.”
he let out a breath, softer now. “i’m sorry. really. i should’ve handled it better. it won’t happen again.”
you looked at him for a moment before averting your eyes, taking a slow breath, then another, trying to blink the tears away before they could fall. this just… didn’t feel right. just this morning, dennis had looked at you with so much love. it would be unfair not to accept his words now, wouldn’t it?
but it still hurt. it really did.
you had tried so hard to look pretty for him, and now all you felt was stupid. stupid for wasting your time, stupid for sitting there for hours, stupid for feeling like you had turned into something he had to squeeze in after spending his day somewhere else. like you were just another thing waiting for him at the end of it.
you didn’t want to be jealous. not of her. she had lost someone she loved, had a newborn to take care of and a whole farm. you kept telling yourself dennis was just being kind, that he had always been too kind for his own good.
he wouldn’t… cheat on you with a grieving woman.
right?
it must have shown on your face, because before you could fully spiral, before the tears could slip past your control, dennis stepped closer and gently placed his hands on your shoulders.
“hey,” he said softly. “look at me.”
you hesitated, but slowly did.
“i said i’m sorry. you told me what was wrong, and we talked it out. everything’s fine, okay?” his voice was calm, almost too calm. “you don’t need to cry.”
you were already too overwhelmed to argue. you just nodded, swallowing hard.
“just… touch up your makeup, yeah? give me a minute. i’m here.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before stepping away and heading towards the shower.
you went back to your shared bedroom and sat in front of the vanity mirror. your eyes were red at the edges, still glossy from tears that hadn’t fully fallen, mascara slightly smudged under your lower lashes. as you carefully fixed it, you kept replaying what had just happened in your head.
this was… so not like your denny.
he didn’t usually brush things off like that. he didn’t usually decide that “you talked it out” and then move on like nothing happened, especially not when you were still clearly upset.
but maybe you were overthinking it. you had to be. one bad moment with your otherwise caring boyfriend didn’t suddenly rewrite your entire relationship, right?
still, your chest felt tight as you stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to smooth out the expression on your face like that could fix what you were feeling inside.
in the shower, dennis just stood under the running water, unmoving for a while. he couldn’t tell if he was trying to wash off the sweat from a long day outside in the sun, or something heavier he didn’t want to name.
guilt, maybe.
not even fully guilt, just… that uneasy feeling sitting under his ribs that he hadn’t handled things the way he normally would have.
he didn’t really understand why he had spoken to you like that. usually, he was the one over-apologizing, even when you weren’t asking for it. but lately, something had shifted in him. a new kind of confidence, or maybe just a different way of justifying things to himself.
he didn’t think he needed to feel bad about amy. not really.
he was helping her. he was doing the right thing.
that was what he kept telling himself as the water ran over his face, louder than the thoughts he didn’t want to fully face.
and somewhere in the background of it all, without him really saying it out loud, your sadness became something he pushed aside to make room for that belief.
꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺
the second time happened a few weeks after that. by then, you were already a little worn down.
you didn’t work in the ER, but your job as a barista still drained you in its own way. you weren’t saving lives, but some customers surely did act like you were actively ruining theirs if their latte wasn’t perfect, even when the issue had nothing to do with you.
and lately, it had been one difficult shift after another.
you couldn’t tell if it was the summer heat making everyone more irritable, but it didn’t help your mood either. especially when you kept checking your phone for any notifications from dennis and there was either nothing at all, or messages like:
behind on charting, won’t be able to pick you up :(
there was an accident on the road and it’s all coming to us, sorry love, don’t wait for me for dinner
you’re working, right? amy will pick me up after my shift, she needs help with building some furniture for the nursery, don’t know when i’ll get home yet. good luck!
any time amy’s name appeared, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. you wanted to be understanding, you really did, but did she not have anyone else? no friends, no family, anyone at all?
it started to feel ridiculous.
and by now, you knew you weren’t the only one who thought so.
once, when you mentioned it to trinity, she had scoffed and called it weird, saying it wasn’t professional at all, that if anyone else at the hospital behaved like that, they’d be reprimanded immediately.
you didn’t really disagree.
but at the same time, you felt almost silly bringing it up again when you and dennis had already “talked” about it before. sort of.
you leaned against the cash register, exhaustion settling into your bones as another shift dragged on. your eyes drifted over to the pastry display, where an apple pie sat neatly behind the glass.
dennis really liked apple pie.
he always said it reminded him of home, how his grandma used to bake the sweetest ones.
you smiled a little at the memory and made a quiet mental note to bake him one soon.
it seemed like your relationship was lacking something sweet these days, and you didn’t want it to turn sour. after all, aside from the amy situation, everything else still felt like it was working. when you were doing your assignments, he would still kiss your temple on his way out, leaving a bowl of fruit on your desk so you’d have “something in your system.” he still held you close when you fell asleep, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
you just needed to focus on the good things a little more.
as soon as you clocked out, you went grocery shopping, feeling inspired to make the best apple pie in the world.
when dennis came home later that day, the sun already long gone, he found you waiting for him.
“surprise!” you said brightly, bouncing slightly on your toes, apron dusted with flour still tied around your waist. the whole apartment smelled warm and sweet, like baked apples and cinnamon.
he paused in the doorway for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “what is this?”
you grabbed his hand immediately, pulling him towards the kitchen. “just come see.”
his eyes landed on the pie sitting on the counter. “woah,” he murmured, more genuine now. “baby, you didn’t have to do all this. weren’t you working today?”
“yeah,” you said, smiling as you watched his reaction, “but i don’t know. i just wanted to. i know how much you like it.”
that softened him. he turned to you right away, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your lips, then another to your cheek like he couldn’t decide where to land.
“you’re sweet,” he said quietly.
you smiled into him, letting yourself lean into the moment.
“let me wash my hands first,” he said after a second, already loosening his grip. “and then i’m going to absolutely destroy that pie. can’t have your effort going to waste.”
he laughed as he said it, a bit lighter now, and before you could respond, he spun you around once in his arms.
it was new. a little unexpected. stronger than before. now that you thought about it, ever since he started going to the farm more often, he did gain some muscle that he didn’t have before.
you let out a small laugh, steadying yourself against him. “okay, okay.”
while dennis was getting changed into his comfortable home clothes, you cut the pie and made him a cup of tea with two sugar cubes. he liked everything sweet.
when he came back, he kissed your cheek again and immediately dug in.
you watched him closely, waiting for his reaction.
“mhmm.” he let out a satisfied hum with his mouth full, which made you laugh, a small spark of pride warming your chest. “it’s so sweet, baby. thank you, i love it.”
he reached for his tea, still chewing. “though it would be nice if you used whipped cream too. amy did it when i was at hers and it tasted like a dream.”
he said it casually, like it didn’t mean anything at all, like it was just a passing thought he decided to share.
but your expression shifted immediately. happiness dropped into something tighter, disbelief and hurt mixing in your chest.
“are you comparing me to her?” you frowned.
dennis paused, eyebrows pulling together like he genuinely didn’t understand the question.
“no? i just said it’s a tip for next time. don’t take it so personally.” he gave you a small smile, already moving on, like it was nothing.
then he continued talking about something from his shift, completely slipping back into his day, like the moment had already passed.
but you hadn’t.
you stayed still for a second too long, trying to figure out if he really didn’t see it or if he just didn’t care enough to. neither option felt good.
“i’m tired. i’m going to bed.” you said quietly, cutting through his sentence as you took off your apron.
he blinked. “oh. okay. night, baby.”
and then he went right back to eating.
you walked into the bathroom and turned on the water, letting it run loudly so it could cover the sound of your sobs. you just sat on the cold floor, knees pulled in, tears slipping down your cheeks faster than you could stop them.
so much so for wanting to do something sweet for your boyfriend.
꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺
the third time dennis hurt you came pretty quickly after that. by then, it didn’t even take much to make you feel sad.
over time, as dennis kept shining brighter, his job clearly fulfilling him, combined with all the farm visits and the confidence he had grown into, something else started happening too.
you wanted to be happy for him. you really did.
but the more he seemed to step into the light, the more you felt like you were being left somewhere behind in the dark.
at first, it showed in small things. forgetting to turn in your assignments. being late to your shifts at the café. then it got worse. you couldn’t sleep properly anymore.
the only times dennis was home, he was usually exhausted, barely able to do more than kiss you hello before collapsing into bed. your movie nights disappeared. your time together shrank into almost nothing. and somehow, the quiet moments became the hardest.
when he was asleep beside you, snoring softly, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist, that was the only time you still felt like you belonged in his world. like you still had a place there.
and even then, it didn’t last.
because the second you tried to fall asleep, a thought would creep in, heavy and persistent.
what if you let go for too long and he just… drifted away?
so you stayed awake.
and then there was the faucet.
it started dripping one night, a steady, uneven sound echoing through the apartment. and if your thoughts weren’t enough to keep you up, that quiet, repetitive tap of water hitting the sink made sure you wouldn’t rest at all.
by morning, you felt completely drained.
when dennis was getting ready for his shift, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his socks, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back.
“baby…” you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion. “the faucet’s dripping. can you fix it? i can’t sleep because of it…”the dark circles under your eyes had only gotten worse over the past few days.
“oh,” he said lightly, like it hadn’t even crossed his mind before. “i didn’t notice.” he turned slightly towards you, gently taking one of your hands off his waist and pressing a quick kiss to your palm.
“yeah, of course. i’ll take care of it when i get home. you’re not dating a farm boy for nothing.” he gave you a small smile, easy and reassuring, before standing up to finish getting ready for his shift.
as dennis left for work, you were left alone in the apartment with that… sound. the quiet space only made it worse, the steady dripping echoing through the rooms like it was filling every corner.
but it was okay. denny said he was going to fix it.
you took a deep breath and made yourself a light breakfast, then sat down to study and work on your assignments. you tried to focus, really, but the grating sound of the faucet kept pulling you out of it. over and over again.
at some point, you weren’t even sure if it was the sound itself that was driving you mad, or if it was everything else piling up inside you, finally starting to crack.
you texted dennis around the time his shift was supposed to end, but once again, you were left on delivered. you rolled your eyes, already knowing what that meant.
but it was okay. maybe amy just needed help with groceries or something small, and he’d be home soon. after all, he promised he’d fix the faucet for you.
and still, nothing.
by midnight, dennis still hadn’t shown up. his dinner sat untouched on the table, wrapped in foil, long gone cold. you didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore. you just sat there, staring at the sink, at the constant drip, your chest tight as your thoughts spiraled.
you couldn’t live like this.
2am passed. still nothing.
eventually, you went to the bedroom and lay down, staring at the ceiling, waiting. and waiting.
dennis finally came home at 5am. he moved quietly through the apartment, like he didn’t want to wake you. or maybe like he didn’t want to deal with you being awake.
unfortunately for both of you, you hadn’t slept at all.
“where the hell were you?” you said the moment you saw him, your voice flat from pure exhaustion.
he paused for a second before answering. “i’m so sorry, baby. i swear i wasn’t ignoring you. i left my phone at work by accident, and by the time i realized, i was already at amy’s. the storms this week caused a lot of damage on the farm, so i had to stay and help. and then it got late, and she didn’t want me driving back when i was that tired. but… i’m here now.”
you let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
“yeah. to get clean clothes. you’re not here for me.”
he frowned slightly, like that wasn’t fair.
“you promised you’d fix the faucet, dennis. i haven’t slept in days. why are her problems always more important than mine?”
he stepped closer, gently holding your face in his hands like that would calm you down.
“it’s not like that, baby. i promise i’ll fix it today, okay? actually promise. it just slipped my mind.”
he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. you didn’t kiss him back, but he didn’t seem to notice.
he glanced at the time right after.
“after work, okay? i’m already late and robby’s gonna be on my ass if i don’t show up. bye. love you.”
and just like that, he was already moving again, grabbing his things and heading out, leaving you standing there in the same apartment, with the same dripping sound still echoing in the background.
you took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself, but it got harder the moment you realized your own shift started in three hours.
great.
you could barely handle customers on a full night of sleep, let alone like this, after nights of barely resting at all. you already felt it in your body, the heaviness behind your eyes, the way everything seemed just a little harder.
you groaned quietly, frustration bubbling up. at yourself, at amy, but most of all at your boyfriend. all the apologies, all the promises that never really seemed to reach you anymore. it felt like those only meant something when they were directed at her.
you pushed yourself up anyway.
slowly, you got ready, moving through everything on autopilot. you made yourself the strongest cup of coffee you could manage and forced it down before heading out.
to say the shift dragged would’ve been an understatement.
everything felt off. you kept making small mistakes, ringing up hot drinks instead of iced ones, spilling milk on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you poured coffee. even the simplest things felt like too much.
you were just so tired.
during a quieter moment, when the line finally died down, your coworker approached you. mark. you didn’t know him that well, just small talk here and there, but enough to know he was a year older, also in college, and had really nice hair.
“hey… you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. “you don’t seem like yourself today.”
you let out a dry laugh, glancing at him. “you can say it. i look like shit.”
he gave you a small, almost amused smile, but didn’t argue.
“thanks for asking though,” you added, shrugging lightly. “i just… couldn’t sleep. there’s this faucet in my apartment that won’t stop dripping, and i can’t fall asleep with it. and i don’t even know how to fix it myself, so…”
mark nodded, listening. then, after a second, “are you free after your shift?”
you looked at him, a bit confused.
“i mean,” he continued, leaning slightly against the counter, arms loosely crossed, “i’m pretty handy. i could take a look at it for you. probably fix it pretty quickly.”
for the first time in what felt like weeks, something in you lifted. just a little.
“really?” you blinked. “that… that would actually mean a lot. are you sure you don’t mind?”
he smiled easily. “i wouldn’t offer if i did.”
then, a little softer, a little more playful, “besides, i’ve been meaning to get to know you better anyway.” he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “don’t tell anyone, but you’re kind of my favorite here.”
you couldn’t help it, you giggled, the sound feeling unfamiliar but nice.
he winked, then straightened up again as another customer walked in, already slipping back into work like nothing happened.
after that, the rest of your shift felt a little easier. anytime you got dazed or lost, mark would quietly slide in and take over for you, telling you to take five and go easy on yourself.
it felt… nice. being seen, being taken care of, even in such a small way. even if a part of you kept insisting it was probably just politeness, nothing more.
when you got back to your apartment with mark, you actually got to know him a bit better. he told you he was majoring in sculpting at one of the fancy art colleges in pittsburgh, joking that being handy was probably the only reason he got accepted. he talked about playing basketball, about his two younger sisters, and somewhere along the way, the conversation just… flowed.
you found yourself laughing more than you expected. it was nice, talking about things that had nothing to do with dennis for once.
you liked trinity, you really did, but she always circled back to him. and right now, you just couldn’t handle thinking about any of it.
you ended up making a quick pasta as a small thank you, insisting he stay for at least a few bites before leaving. after that, you walked him to the door, exchanging a quick, easy goodbye.
once the apartment fell quiet again, it didn’t feel as heavy as before. not as suffocating. and the second your back hit the couch, exhaustion took over. you fell asleep almost instantly, finally getting the rest your body had been begging for.
dennis came home hours later.
you only stirred when you heard dennis’ keys, your body too tired to fully wake up.
he stepped into the living room, his voice low. “hey…”
you barely responded, just a small nod before turning onto your side, your back facing him. you didn’t have the energy to talk to him. not now.
he sighed quietly and went to change, but then paused.
something felt… off.
the apartment was too quiet.
he walked towards the kitchen, glancing at the sink, and froze for a second. the faucet wasn’t dripping anymore. but there were two plates sitting there, neither of them his.
he stood there for a moment before speaking.
“hey… what happened to the faucet?” he asked, his voice careful, though there was something tense underneath it.
you stirred slightly, pushing yourself up just enough to look at him.
“oh. yeah. that,” you mumbled, still half asleep. “my coworker fixed it. i was a mess at work, didn’t sleep, so he offered…”
you stretched a little, not thinking much of it.
dennis, however, did.
his expression tightened just slightly, a strained kind of smile settling on his face as he stepped closer.
“your coworker?” he repeated. “like… a guy?”
you frowned, confusion mixing with irritation as you sat up more properly.
“yeah. why? does it matter?”you pushed yourself off the couch, already exhausted again. “whatever. i’m going to bed. i need sleep.”
you tried to walk past him, but he caught your arm, stopping you.
“i don’t like you inviting other guys into our place to fix things,” he said, his tone firmer now. “that’s what you have a boyfriend for.”
for a second, you just stared at him.
“do i?” you said, your voice sharp despite how tired you felt.
you pulled your arm out of his grip.
“because i haven’t seen him in a while.”
his jaw tightened, but you didn’t stop.
“i asked you to fix it first. you brushed me off for amy. you don’t get to play house at a farm with some other woman and then get mad at me for accepting help from someone else. that’s not fair, dennis.”
dennis looked at you for a moment, clearly deciding what to do next. if it had been the dennis you first fell in love with, he probably would’ve dropped his gaze, stumbled over his words, and started muttering multiple apologies, though the dennis you started dating wouldn’t have let things get this bad with you in the first place.
but now he wanted to use his newfound confidence. to show you he had become better, not just for himself and his coworkers, but for you too.
so instead of backing down, he closed the distance between you and kissed you.
it was sudden, passionate, catching you completely off guard. your eyes widened, and before you could react properly, he pressed you back against the nearest wall, his lips moving down to your neck, slowly sucking at your sensitive spot.
your breath got caught in your throat, your body reacting before your mind could catch up, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.
for a brief moment, it felt like everything else faded. like things were normal again.
dennis pulled back just enough to look at you, something almost smug flickering across his face.
“you don’t need other guys for this,” he said quietly, as his hand slowly slipped into your pants, his lips returning to your neck. “could that coworker of yours do this to you, huh?”
and for a moment, you did feel it. the warmth, the closeness, the pull. and it would’ve been a lie to say you didn’t get wet from his touches, because you did. however it was his fault you were this needy in the first place. months of distance, of being tired, of him barely being there or only half present when he was. you don’t even remember the last time the two of you got intimate.
and just like that, something in you snapped back. because as quickly as your body responded, your mind caught up as well.
the missed calls. the empty apartment. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling. the sound of the faucet. amy. always amy.
your hands pushed against his chest.
“stop. stop!” you raised your voice.
dennis stepped back immediately, actual fear in his eyes. he had never forced himself on you, and this was the first time you had ever fully rejected him like that.
you stood there, breathing uneven, and then it all came out at once.
“you can’t do that. you can’t leave me hanging for months, walking away from me when i need you, choosing some other woman who should be relying on literally anyone else but you, and then come back and act like this fixes it.”
your voice shook, but you didn’t stop.
“waltzing back in here to try to do some jealous power play on me? saying how you can make me feel things that my coworker can’t? when’s the last time you even did anything like that for me, dennis?”
a bitter, exhausted laugh slipped out of you as you ran a hand through your hair.
“i love you, dennis,” you said more quietly now, voice breaking a little at the edges. “i still do. but i deserve better than this.”
you looked at him for a second longer, then turned away.
“i’m going to bed.” you walked past him, heading to the bedroom, leaving him standing there in silence. he couldn’t react in any way, because deep down he knew you were right. he just didn’t want to accept it.
didn’t want to admit that everything he thought was making him better, stronger, someone you could be proud of, was slowly pushing you away instead.
that night, he stayed on the couch.
he didn’t dare come into the bedroom. not after everything.
and as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the faint scent of your perfume still lingering on the couch pillows from your nap, he realized how far away you suddenly felt.
꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺
the fourth time dennis hurt you came the next morning.
you woke up with a headache worse than any hangover you’d ever had, and instead of feeling well rested after finally getting the sleep your body desperately craved, you just felt awful.
you didn’t even want to get up, knowing you’d have to face dennis again, face that difficult and weird situation he put you into.
you just wanted to stay in bed. sleep the whole day away, maybe even the next one too, but unfortunately, you couldn’t.
you glanced at the empty side of the bed, the one dennis usually slept on, the cold bedsheets showing that he didn’t sleep there at all.
with a heavy sight you got up from the bed and carefully navigated your way through the hallway into the living room. you took a deep breath before you opened the door and then carefully stepped inside, bracing yourself for what was yet to come.
dennis was still there, which by now, was rather unusual. he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his eyes tired, but they lit up a little when he saw you in the doorway.
you two just looked at each other for a moment, awkward silence filling the room. after another beat of silence, dennis opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his phone started ringing.
he glanced at it, hesitating for a second, clearly unsure if he should pick up.
“amy?” you asked, your voice flat, already knowing the answer.
“y-yeah, but uh let me just take this, it’ll be quick, and then we can finish our conversation from yesterday, okay?” his voice wavered slightly.
you let out a quiet, humorless breath.
“bold of you to assume i want to finish that conversation,” you said, your tone tired more than anything. “i said everything i needed to, so go ahead. pick up. wouldn’t want to leave poor amy hanging, right?” you rolled your eyes and turned away, walking out of the living room.
you meant to go back to your bedroom, to get dressed and leave, just get out of the apartment for a while.
but you didn’t go far.
you stopped just behind the door in the hallway, your chest tight, your curiosity and anxiety keeping you there.
you needed to hear it. needed to know how he talked to her. what he sounded like speaking to other woman than you.
you heard him click his tongue before picking up the call, the tension in him slipping out in that small sound.
“uh, hi amy. what’s up?” he said, his voice a little gentler now, like he didn’t want her to hear that he was stressed.
“oh, theo’s teething? is that what’s making him act up? i’m sorry to hear that.” after a pause, probably listening to what else she had to say, he responded with a light laugh in his voice. “you’d like me to come on sunday?” he repeated, glancing at the calendar hanging in your living room.
sunday was marked as your anniversary date. officially three years together. dana had once joked that even some marriages don’t last that long.
you tensed at the mention of that, waiting for his answer just as much as amy.
“y-yeah, i don’t know…” he started, clearly aware he was busy. with you. he was supposed to be busy with you.
but he didn’t finish, as amy probably started insisting. at least that’s what you assumed.
dennis ran a hand over his face before responding. “okay, sure. i’ll come. probably in the morning, because—”
and the moment you heard his defeated “okay” you didn’t even for him to finish the rest of his sentence. you had already heard enough.
you rushed to your bedroom and shut the door behind you, louder than necessary, making sure it made a sound.
you didn’t even know what came over you in that moment. probably all the pent up sadness, the anger, the constant feeling of being pushed aside finally spilling over. the more you thought about it, the more worse you felt.
you did everything for this man. you were there when he had nothing, when he was struggling financially, when he didn’t even have a place to stay. you welcomed him into your home and made it a home for both of you. you supported his decisions, tried your best to build up his confidence, to make him feel like he was enough.
and now he was using the widow of his dead patient, which was insane in itself, to boost his ego?
for what?
were you never enough?
was it because you were a city girl, while amy could give him that quiet life he always talked about? the white fence, the baby, the farm?
you couldn’t do this anymore. you just couldn’t.
so with shaking hands, you pulled out a suitcase and started packing. quickly, carelessly, not even looking at what you were grabbing, just throwing clothes in, one after another.
the moment dennis heard the loud thud from the bedroom, he ended the call with amy almost immediately and rushed in.
he froze for a second when he saw you.
“what are you doing?” he asked, frowning, already stepping forward.
then he moved closer, panic kicking in as he started pulling your clothes back out of the suitcase.
“what are you doing?” he repeated, more urgent now.
“what are you doing, dennis?” you snapped back, your voice rising as you yanked your sweater out of his hands.
“i’m tired of this. i’m tired of feeling like the other woman in my own relationship.”
your chest was heaving now, emotions spilling out faster than you could control.
“you’re going to her place even on our anniversary? seriously? grow a backbone. why couldn’t you say no to her for once, the same way you keep saying no to me?”
the words came out sharp, unfiltered, driven by everything you had been holding in.
and something in dennis… snapped.
he didn’t mean it. not really.
he was just angry. mostly at himself, honestly.
but it all came out wrong.
“yeah?” he shot back, his voice tight. “you know what? i always thought you were a good person, but now it just feels like you simply liked me better when i was at my lowest.”
you froze.
“yeah,” he continued, words spilling out faster now. “when i was that broke, clumsy med student with nothing. no money, no place, nothing. and you got something out of that.”
your heart dropped.
“you used it. you used me to feel better about yourself. and now that i’m not beneath you anymore, now that people actually see something in me, even another woman… you just can’t handle it.”
the room fell silent after that.
you just stared at him, like you didn’t even recognize the person standing in front of you anymore.
“if that’s what you really think,” you said quietly, your voice shaking but steady enough, “then i don’t understand why you’re even here.”
you swallowed, forcing the next words out.
“it’s over, dennis. i want you to leave. right now. and if you won’t, i will.”
your eyes were glossy, but your tone stayed stern.
for a moment, he just stood there, blinking, like he didn’t fully realize what he had just done. then, without another word, he turned and walked out.
the door closed behind him.
and suddenly, it was quiet again.
you sank down onto the floor of your bedroom, the suitcase still half full, clothes scattered everywhere around you.
little pieces of your life together, now just painful reminders you didn’t know what to do with.
꒰𐔌 ★ 🩺
time moved on, but neither did you and dennis. it had been almost a week since he left the apartment, and unfortunately for both of you, today was that fateful sunday.
you decided to stay in, considering all the plans you once had for that day were long gone. you bought yourself a big tub of ice cream, a bottle of wine, and planned to spend the entire day inside, rewatching your favorite show, not even bothering to open the blinds.
dennis, on the other hand, picked up a shift. it was a convenient excuse not to go to amy’s, and at the same time, he needed something to distract himself. he figured if he focused on his patients, maybe he wouldn’t have to think about everything else.
unfortunately for him, his coworkers had other plans.
the first one to bring it up, as expected, was trinity. he had been staying at her place for the past few days. at first, she gave him space, knowing when to leave things alone, but patience had never really been her strength, and she had clearly had enough.
“so, when are you planning on fixing your fuck up, huckleberry?” she said bluntly, her tone sharp as they both sat down to do charting.
“what fuck up?” he replied, not even looking up, like he didn’t know exactly what she meant.
“oh, don’t play dumb,” she scoffed. “just a few days ago you were going on and on about how you were gonna treat your ‘queen’ on sunday, and now you’re here instead. and don’t think i didn’t notice the fifteen cans of beer in my fridge. if you drink all of that and throw up in my apartment, i swear…”
he exhaled, rubbing his face, clearly not being in the mood for this conversation.
trinity just shook her head. “to think you threw it all away for that farm girl…” she muttered.
that was enough to set him off.
“look, i really don’t want you bringing that up, especially here, okay?” he said, his voice lower now, but tense.
trinity raised her eyebrows, her tone immediately turning more biting.
“wow. look at that. acting like a victim,” she said, a sarcastic smile creeping onto her face. “as if i haven’t told you multiple times how weird this whole thing is. you kept telling me how your girlfriend is this perfect, understanding angel, and i kept thinking, who in their right mind would actually be okay with that? now look at that, she wasn’t okay with that.”
he stayed quiet.
“for fuck’s sake, amy was picking you up from work more often than your own girlfriend at this point. everyone saw it. and you didn’t seem to mind back then,” she added, her voice sharper now, as she she stood up, grabbing her things.
“i’m saying this because i actually care, huckleberry. fix it today, or you’re going to regret it.” and with that, she walked off.
dennis sat there for a moment, then dropped his face into his hands.
after a second, dana leaned slightly towards him.
“she’s right, kid. harsh, but right.”
“you too, dana… don’t even start.” he muttered, already ready to get up and grab another case just to avoid the conversation, but she stopped him.
“look, i know it’s not my business,” she said more gently, “but that girl of yours… she seemed really sweet. and she loved you. that was obvious.”
he didn’t respond.
“people mess up. trust me, i’ve had my fair share with my husband. but if the love is real, it’s worth fighting for.”
then she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice.
“and it’s definitely not worth losing over… whatever this is with a patient’s family.”
she gave him a look before going back to her work.
dennis stayed there, shoulders slumping as he processed everything that was said to him just now, because well, they were right.
all of them.
and you… you had been right from the start.
he had seen it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. the way you held onto him a little tighter in the mornings, the way your smile slowly faded over time.
somewhere along the way, he had lost the balance between taking care of himself… and forgetting to take care of you.
before dennis could dwell on it any longer, a trauma was called in and he was needed immediately.
dennis quickly pulled on protective eyewear and a sterile gown, falling into the routine as he joined the rest of the team rushing to receive the patient. it was serious enough to require a trauma surgeon and immediate transfer to the OR, which meant everything had to move fast.
garcia was the one called in, and at that, dennis couldn’t help but roll his eyes. she had never really spared him when it came to snarky remarks, and now, knowing trinity, she probably knew everything already.
“oh, if it isn’t the funky music,” she said when she spotted him, her tone light despite the situation. “i know you’ve been going around breaking hearts, but don’t break this one too, okay?” she shot him a teasing look before turning back to the patient.
dennis huffed quietly under his breath but didn’t respond, focusing on what needed to be done as the team worked to stabilize the patient.
unfortunately for him, robby had been there the whole time too.
once things finally settled and the patient was stable, robby motioned for dennis to step aside, leading him towards the ambulance bay doors.
“you alright?” robby asked, arms crossed, studying him for a moment.
dennis frowned slightly. “yeah. why?”
robby raised a brow. “because you’ve been off all day. tired, distracted. not like you.”
dennis exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’m fine. just didn’t sleep much.”
robby didn’t seem convinced. he leaned back slightly against the wall, still watching him.
“that all?”
there was a pause.
dennis hesitated, glancing away for a second like he was debating whether to say anything at all.
“it’s just… stuff at home,” he admitted finally, quieter now.
robby didn’t interrupt.
“i messed up,” dennis added after a moment, his voice low. “with my girlfriend. like… really messed up.”
he let out a short breath, shaking his head slightly.
“i don’t even know how it got this bad.”
robby hummed quietly, not surprised. “that explains the mood.”
dennis let out a tired laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“yeah.”
there was a short silence before robby spoke again.
“you gonna fix it?”
dennis didn’t answer right away.
he just stood there for a second, the question settling heavier than he expected.
“…i don’t know if i can,” he admitted.
robby shrugged slightly. “then figure it out. because whatever’s going on, it’s clearly getting to you.”
he pushed himself off the wall, giving dennis a small nod.
“get your head back in the game. we still got a shift to finish.”
and just like that, robby walked off, leaving dennis standing there with his thoughts again, only now he couldn’t ignore them as easily.
the end of the shift couldn’t come soon enough. dennis rushed through handoffs with the night shift, barely listening as perlah and princess exchanged knowing looks, whispering to each other in a language he didn’t understand, but he could guess exactly what it was about. at this point, it felt like the whole hospital knew about his fuck up.
he didn’t even bother changing out of his scrubs. he just grabbed his things and hurried out, stopping by the nearest flower shop and spending almost all the money he had left, which wasn’t much, considering he had only just started getting paychecks, on the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers.
then he drove to your place.
he still had the key.
dennis stood outside for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before unlocking the door and quietly stepping inside.
the apartment was dark, except for the soft glow coming from the living room, along with the familiar soundtrack of your favorite show. one he had gotten to know pretty well over time. he remembered you rewatching it during breakfasts back when he was still in med school. he used to tease you about how you could probably recite every line by heart, and you never denied it. he had grown to love it too. mostly because it reminded him of you.
he swallowed and slowly made his way towards the living room.
when he stepped in, he saw you curled up under a blanket on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine next to you. your eyes were puffy and tired, like you had been crying for hours.
his chest tightened at the sight. he hated himself for letting it get this far. for being the reason you looked like this.
“hey…” he whispered softly.
you looked at him, taking a second to fully register his presence, before a small sniffle escaped you.
“get out,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your voice shook. “i don’t want to see you.” you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your face completely.
dennis stepped closer, careful and hesitant.
“darling… baby, please just hear me out,” he started, his voice already shaky. “i know you said everything you needed to that day, but i didn’t, and i… i’m sorry. okay? i didn’t mean any of the things i said at that moment.”
he swallowed hard, his voice threatening to break.
“you are a good person. you always have been. and i should’ve been grateful that you stayed with me when i had nothing, when i was… pretty useless, honestly. and then i go and treat you like this…” he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i’m a fool. i know i am.”
his voice cracked despite his effort to keep it together.
“you’re the best thing in my life, and i don’t want to lose that. i don’t want to lose you.”
he took another small step closer, still not touching you.
“i’ll cut amy off. completely. i swear i never thought of her in a romantic way, not once, but i should’ve realized how it looked, how it felt for you. but i didn’t. i messed up. badly.”
he ran a hand through his hair, his words coming out more rushed now.
“i just… i felt good for once. at the farm, i know what i’m doing. i feel useful there. like i actually stand out. in the hospital, there are so many people who are better, stronger, more confident and then there’s you…” he let out a small, almost breathless laugh. “you’re the strongest, most amazing, most beautiful person i’ve ever met. and i think i just… lost myself trying to prove i could be something too.”
his voice softened again.
“and in the process, i pushed away the most important person in my life.”
there was a pause.
“i regret it. more than anything.”
he finally stepped closer to the couch, slowly lowering himself down in front of you, but still keeping a small distance, giving you space.
“can you… just give me a chance to fix this?”
after a few seconds, you pulled the blanket down, your face still tear-streaked, your eyes red. you had listened to everything. every word.
but you didn’t know what to say.
you loved him.
you really did.
but was that enough?
was it right to let him back in after everything?
as if he could read the doubt in your expression, he spoke again, quieter this time.
“you don’t have to forgive me. not now… maybe not ever,” he admitted. “but if there’s even a chance… let me earn it. let me prove to you that i can be better. that i can be the man you deserve.”
he swallowed, then carefully got down on his knees in front of you, placing the bouquet beside you before gently reaching for your hands. this time, he waited, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to.
“i, dennis whitaker, promise that i’ll take care of you,” he said softly. “i’ll fix every stupid faucet, anything that bothers you. i’ll take you anywhere you want to go. i’ll do all those dumb things like putting my coat over puddles just so you don’t get your shoes wet.”
a faint, sad smile tugged at his lips.
“i’ll rub your neck when you’re studying, and in return i just… want to be the one who gets to wake up next to you. the one who gets to eat your pies and whatever you bake until i’m old and annoying.”
his grip on your hands tightened just slightly.
“please. just one more chance. you’re the only one for me.”
there was a beat of silence, as if you were still weighing everything he had said, still deciding what to do with it.
then you let out a small sniffle.
“if i ever hear about amy again,” you started, your voice shaky but holding onto that familiar edge, “or if you ever dare to say my pies aren’t perfect, i’ll sell your clothes on ebay and come to the hospital to show everyone your donald duck boxers.”
a quiet, broken giggle slipped out of you.
dennis let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, a soft, relieved laugh escaping him as he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours.
“yeah… that’s fair,” he murmured. “that’s definitely what i deserve.”
he smiled softly before looking at you properly again, his expression warmer now, but still careful.
“thank you. for letting me try again. i love you.”
you sniffled once more, your lips pressing into a small, tired smile.
“you’re lucky i love you too.”
“i really am.” he whispered.
that night was finally the first one in a while where you actually slept a little peacefully.
dennis took the bottle of wine away from you, putting it back into the kitchen cabinet and making you tea instead before gently tucking you into bed.
for a moment, he hesitated.
he wasn’t sure if he deserved to lie next to you yet. part of him thought he should just take the couch again, give you space, not assume anything.
but then you reached out for him. your hand searching for his without even opening your eyes.
that was enough to convince him. he slipped into bed beside you, and the moment you settled, resting your head against his chest, something in him softened completely.
he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting carefully against your back as he felt you slowly drift off to sleep.
he stayed like that for a while, just holding you. making sure you were really resting.
and once your breathing evened out, he carefully reached for his phone.
he stared at the screen for a moment before typing out a message to amy, that he was going to focus on building his own family now. with you. and that if things got too overwhelming, she should reach out to the hospital psychologist, but that he couldn’t be there for her anymore, because he was needed somewhere else.
he sent it, then turned his phone off completely.
when he looked back at you, you were still curled up against him, your chest rising and falling softly with each breath.
his expression softened, but his eyes stung. a few quiet tears slipped down his cheeks as he brushed his thumb gently against your arm.
“i’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this to you again. promise.”
“just the tip, baby, please.” his face was burrowed in the crook of her neck. his plush lips kissed and sucked at the soft skin there. she hadn’t moved since he left her that morning, her body laid bare atop their blankets and ripe for the taking. so he pounced the second he walked through the door.
she groaned, “denny, no.” but he gently rolled his hips and his denim clad bulge grazed her bare clit. an aching pleasure trickled down her spine. a ragged gasp tore from her throat. she dug her nails into his shoulder blade, “just the tip,” she mumbled, nodding insistently.
he grinned against her neck. his warm breath fanned against the shell of her ear. “you’re not gonna fight? too needy for me?” a wiry hand slid between their bodies. the pad of his thumb found her clit. he traced tight, small circles against the sensitive little bundle of nerves. her back arched off the bed against his body. he kissed her neck, down to her chest, lips ghosting over her body until he reached the hilt of her sex. he removed his thumb and placed a gentle kiss against her pussy.
her hips jolted at the contact. he forcefully pushed them back into the bed. he hurriedly spread her legs further and haphazardly pulled down his jeans with his boxers. as the waistband slid down his thighs, his thick cock slapped his stomach.
dennis carefully lined up his leaky tip to her entrance. he shot her a quick look, “you’re so wet down here.” he began to drag his tip through her slick folds, watching her face closely, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. she moaned, wincing in that way that let him know she was desperate as he grazed her clit. “it hurts,” she whispered. “what’s wrong? need me to make you feel better?” she only hummed, mind fuzzy with lust.
“say it, baby.” he wrapped his hand around her jaw, making her focus on him. her face was pouty and flushed. “i need you to make me feel better,” she mumbled. he grinned, pressing himself against her entrance, “say please.” her eyes narrowed beneath her nodded brow, “don’t push it,” she warned.
he snapped his hips, hitting the back of her pelvis in one violent thrust, stuffing her full. she whimpered as her gummy walls molded around his thick cock. dennis stroked her hair, “i know it.” his hand trailed down her body, between her breasts and rested on her tummy, pressing down to feel the outline of his dick. “i know it,” he cooed, “it’s so big, isn’t it? doesn’t it feel so good though. all better now?”
she shook her head, hips jutting instinctively. he feigned concern, “no? what do you need, baby?” she huffed frustratedly, “y - you know what,” she groaned. dennis furrowed his brows, “what is it? c’mon use your words.” she only whined again, wiggling her hips. he groped at them, holding them in a vice grip that was sure to leave little bruises.
“fucking move,” she hissed. dennis’ face twisted into a scowl, “stop being so bossy.”
Summary: She’s the light of the ER, one who pushes through what no one expects her to. However, when you’re only human, that’s not sustainable.
Warnings: Description of having a panic attack and experiencing burnout.
Notes: established relationship.
Word count: 1,467
Dennis looked down at his watch, checking the time on this ever slow-moving shift. It was 3 p.m., a time when usually the chaos of the ER would begin to pick up, but today seemed to be a rarity of simple treatments and routine procedures.
The calm wasn’t the only strange thing. He realized that it had been far too long since he had last seen you. You were the light of his life, and he didn’t think he could survive going through a shift without hearing your witty comments and the soft laugh that followed. The ER needed people like you. You had a way of bringing joy into each room like it belonged there.
Dr. Robinavitch stopped in the hallway near Dennis momentarily to apply hand sanitizer, so Dennis turned to ask if he had seen you lately.
He paused for a second, seeming to consider what to say.
“Oh, uh…I told her to take a break,” he said, his tone detached enough that Dennis didn’t quite know how to take it.
His brow scrunched. “A break? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take a break.”
It was rare that you were ever able to, but even when others suggested it, you brushed it off and kept moving. Taking a break, to you, just meant that you were helping fewer people, and that never sat right with you. Thank God for the invention of protein bars.
Robby exhaled. “Yeah, me neither, but I told her she needed one.”
Instantly, Dennis knew that something had to be very wrong. He had always believed you were nearly invincible, the way you moved through the hospital even on the most stressful days with a smile glued to your face.
“Is she okay?” he asked, quiet enough that others around couldn’t hear.
Robby didn’t respond immediately, which only furthered Dennis’s concern.
“She’s strong. She’ll be alright.”
Dennis had a few follow-up questions, but before he could ask, Robby was swept away by Dana.
So immediately, Dennis went to check the lounge, and to his dismay, he couldn’t find you. However, it didn’t take long for him to think of where you might be if you truly needed to get away.
The closed wing of the hospital, the perfect place for a crisis.
He moved quickly toward the elevator. When he reached the right floor, he swiftly navigated the halls, checking each room. That was until, up on his right, he heard the muffled sound of gasping, and Dennis hurried to the door.
Peeking in, he saw you, and the sight nearly broke his heart.
You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, breath heaving, the idea of it stabilizing seeming impossible. Tears streamed down your face, hot and unforgiving. This room, meant to give you space and solace, seemed to do nothing of the sort.
Dennis was quick to your side, sitting in front of you on the hospital bed.
When you felt the pressure dip, you opened your eyes.
The tightness in your chest only seemed to constrict further.
Dennis looked at you carefully, like he didn’t quite know what to say but wanted more than anything for you to feel better.
“Baby,” he breathed, his hand wrapping around your back.
“Dennis,” you choked between sobs. “I’m…I…I’m sorry.” You could barely breathe, but you wished he would go he couldn’t see you like this.
But here he was, and you knew he wouldn’t leave. Your Dennis would never. As much as that thought should have comforted you, it didn’t. He was witnessing the mess you had become, and that made your chest tighten even more.
You cried harder, leaning your face back into your hands.
“I need you to breathe,” he said, his voice warm and steady as he began to rub slow circles into your back.
“I—I can’t,” you gasped as your mind continued to spiral. You couldn’t remember another time you had felt such unmoored terror, like the ground had been ripped out from under your feet. Your whole body felt out of your control.
“I know you can.”
You shook your head.
He lifted his hand to your chin, directing your gaze to his.
“Just follow me. Just try, okay?”
And you did, because you had yet to master the art of saying no to the kindest man you knew.
You tried your best to copy his breathing patterns, though your breath stuttered and sped up a few times before finally synchronizing with his.
“You’re okay,” he affirmed.
When Dennis believed your breathing had fully stabilized, he pulled you into a tight hug. You immediately tucked your head into his neck and clung to him like a lifeline.
How this man had the miraculous ability to make you feel better, you had no idea. Mere seconds ago, you had wanted him to leave, but now, as he held you, that idea alone felt terrifying.
“Everything will be alright,” he spoke softly into your hair. The words felt so gentle, a stark contrast to the storm that still rattled in your chest.
“I’m here. I love you.”
You felt like a boat being guided back to shore.
“I’m so sorry,” you murmured, your words muffled against his chest.
“No, don’t be.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumbs warm as they brushed away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.
You gazed into his eyes, and echoing through the stillness was a realization.
You sat up straighter.
“No, no—I should be working. I have to—” You tried to get up, but Dennis held you in place with a firm grip on your shoulders.
“You’re not working. Not now, okay?”
“But—”
He cut you off with a firm shake of his head.
“Take another deep breath.”
You did.
His hand remained gentle on your cheek, and he gave you a nod of approval after each steady inhale.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
A shaky exhale left your throat.
“I don’t…I don’t know exactly. A patient yelled at me, said I seemed confused and that they wanted a real doctor.”
You tried desperately to stabilize your breathing before continuing.
“This shit happens all the time. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
You avoided his eyes.
“Do you hear me? Nothing.”
Your throat tightened, a shaky breath slipping past your lips. “I tried to keep it together,” you admitted quietly. “I really did.”
“I know you did,” Dennis said without hesitation. “You always do.”
“You push yourself so hard. At some point, the human body can’t take it anymore.” His grip around you was soothing as his thumbs rubbed gently against your side.
“I should be stronger than this.”
“No—no one expects that,” his voice was firm, a tone that suggested there was no way you could argue against him.
“You need to go back to work, Dennis,” you whispered, guilt filling your chest that you had kept him here.
“I will, once I know you’re okay.”
You nodded before leaning back into his embrace. He held you with one hand at the nape of your neck and the other at your lower back.
“I’m going to call you an Uber.”
“What?” You leaned back, puzzled.
“You’re going to go home and rest. I’ll talk to Robby, you know he’ll understand.”
“Dennis…” you trailed off.
“Please. Please just do it for me.”
He looked at you with a steady expression that left no room for doubt or pushback.
Your body resisted the idea, heavy with exhaustion and guilt, but your heart knew that going home was the right thing to do. Plus, you loved him too much not to listen and trust him.
“Okay,” you finally replied, and you saw the tension release from his shoulders.
He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your lips, an action that said everything all at once: I love you. I’m sorry. Thank you.
⸻
He closed the door gently, an attempt not to wake you if you had fallen asleep.
He crept through the front hallway and into the living room, where he saw you fast asleep on the couch in his favorite blue hoodie. The sight made his heart swell.
He knew he should leave you to rest, but he also desperately wanted you close. So after slipping off his shoes and changing, he returned to the couch. He lay down beside you, then shifted you ever so gently so you could rest on top of him.
You stirred for a second before muttering, “Dennis?”
“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, brushing his hand gently over your hair.
“I love you,” you murmured, your voice quiet, velveted with fatigue.
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
A Suspicious Huckleberry 2.0 (Dennis Whitaker x Reader)
Summary: Dennis Whitaker has seemingly had a glow-up in the past few months and it has left the entire Pitt wondering (and making bets) as to what is the cause of his glow up
Warnings: takes place during 10-month gap!, fluff!, Whitaker's glow up, our Huckleberry is in love, mexicana!reader, Reader and Dennis are the same age!, reader is described as having short, layered hair
Series Masterlist
"Are you sure this is how it's done?" Dennis asked with a furrowed brow as Y/N scrunched his hair.
"Yup", she grinned with a peck to his cheek. "Your curls are gonna be so cute."
She had worked product into his freshly washed, wet hair and was now scrunching it with a towel.
"We're lucky my sister has curly hair", Y/N giggled as Dennis sat on the stool.
Dennis watched from the reflection in the mirror, sitting patiently as Y/N stood on a small stool to make sure she reached all of his head. Y/N had somehow convinced him to start growing out his hair a bit and now, she had him sitting down on a stool getting his curls styled.
Dennis hadn't thought all those months ago he'd gain a girlfriend, one that packed him lunches and lathered him in love (something he was still getting used to considering the way his family was, but something he melted at each time).
He spent most of his time now with her at her house; the only thing that he didn't do was sleep over and that was because her parents had a strict rule about that despite how much Y/N said they loved him.
"And why are we filming it?" Dennis asked.
"To show my followers how cute my Victorian ghost guerito is", she said, grabbing the diffuser next. "Plus don't pretend you don't like it after a hard day over in the ER."
It was true.
"You wouldn't believe the kind of day I had at the Pitt", Dennis voiced. "I got peed on 4 times again! Every time Robby or one of the other residents have a hard case, they call me!"
"My poor baby. How dare they make you get covered in bodily fluid", she cooed, putting down the diffuser. "But look at how cute you look with your curls! One month left and you'll be the most stylish resident on the floor."
Dennis didn't really see the difference, but his ears felt hot as Y/N began to rain lip-gloss sticky kisses all over his face and well, what kind of boyfriend would he be to ruin her happiness over her work?
"There! Now we're ready for our date!"
~
Trinity Santos liked to think of herself as a observant person. She was trying to become a doctor after all. She had to be observant so when she first noticed Whitaker constantly on his phone, she thought nothing of it.
Maybe he had finally found more friends.
Then he suddenly began to pop up with sticky lip gloss to his cheeks or lips, the occasional lip stick smeared on him.
But the damning thing was the lunches he started bringing one day.
Grand spreads that put five-star restaurants to shame that ranged from different Mexican dishes to even simple sandwiches that came with more than a big of chips with fruit salad, dessert and other things she knew Whitaker didn't have time to do.
And whoever was giving him the food knew what they were doing as Whitaker's face had begun to fill out from the food and even his hair had begun to grow into a stylish curly mullet. He was beginning to slowly look less like a Victorian ghost and more like just a sad ghost of the modern time.
"I'm not the only one noticing this, right?" Santos asked her fellow co-workers one day.
"Maybe he has a girlfriend", Javadi suggested, "you did say he's gone a lot now."
Currently, they watched as Whitaker ate a massive lunch when they also noticed Robby settling down next to Whitaker with his own fucking massive lunch.
"Okay, what the fuck?" Santos said, baffled. "What is going on here?"
"Let's just focus on one thing at a time", Mohan said with a shake of her head. "Robby's been in a hell of a good mood, he hasn't even called me Slow Mo and whoever is responsible for that is a saint."
Trinity Santos was observant, yes.
"Hell yeah to that statement", Cassie said as she passed by. "Not even Langdon being at rehab is bothering him."
But she still had no clue what the fuck was going on.
Which is why Ahmad and the others had begun a betting pool as to what was causing their Huckleberry to blossom.
Princess, Perlah and Dana had all put their money on a secret inheritance.
Donnie and Jesse had put their money on him having sold his soul, somehow.
And Mel and Robby (an odd combo in the betting pool) had gone on the conservation route: he found a girlfriend.
And her being said roommate to Whitaker, she put all her money into where Donnie and Jesse put theirs: he sold his soul.
Because this was Huckleberry they were talking about.
~
It was nearly 9 PM when Dennis finally left the ER; his body heavy and tired with exhaustion. He stunk like hospital and student debt as he gathered his things.
“Heading home, Whitaker?” Lifting his head, he saw Robby with his own bag slung over his arm.
Home?
His heart felt like it melted at the thought of his beloved, Y/N.
Those dark, sparkly eyes, her soft brown skin, her smile that felt like he was shot by Cupid’s arrow each time.
His mom was right about pretty city girls.
He was their perfect victim.
“Yeah”, Dennis dopily sighed with a love stricken smile. “I’m heading home.”
As he headed out to the bus stop (since Trinity’s shift went for another hour), he pulled out his phone and scrolled to her number.
It rang for a second before her voice rang to him, “Hi Denny! How was your shift?”
Summary: When (Y/n) is taken to the Pitt emergency room, a lot of mis-communication causes a big scene. All she wants is her husband to help her; but no one understands.
Enjoy.
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PTMC.
Those letters stood out to (Y/n) like a beacon; a sign that sparked a glimmer of hope within her burning chest.
The Pittsburgh teaching hospital; the place (Y/n) had heard so much about within the last year, but somewhere she had never been or ventured to before. Somewhere she had never needed to go before, somewhere she didn't want to be today either.
This was where Dennis would be. If he was here then (Y/n) would need him, she would need him to help her.
The feeling of her heart thumping against her chest made her ribs ache and (Y/n) grimaced and felt a rise of bile at the back of her throat. She wanted to be sick, she felt like she was going to pass out again. Her breathing was starting to become shallow and strenuous to keep up with.
Such bright lights beamed down upon (Y/n) the moment the stretcher wheeled through the ambulance bay doors. It felt like she had been blinded, her eyes scorched by the sun and she squinted, lolling her head back against the gurney she really didn't want to be on.
The last thing (Y/n) remembered had been her journey back home. The screeching of tyres, the sight of cars speeding past and the feeling of something whacking into her and sweeping her legs far from the ground.
It had taken her a lot longer than it should have to realise that she had woken up in an ambulance. That news only just seemed to sink in when the paramedics wheeled her down from the ambulance, then she finally realised what was happening.
Why was it so blinding in here? Did no one wish to see what they were doing or where they were going? Why was the gurney moving so fast? Why were they rushing about like headless chickens? Why weren't they acknowledging her and acting like she wasn't even here?
"Who have we got here?"
Princess advanced towards the medics, looping her stethoscope around her neck as she put on one of her best charming smiles and curled her hands around the rail on the gurney. They were all hands on deck this afternoon, although things were slowly starting to simmer down and they weren't as overwhelmed as they had been an hour ago.
"Young female in her twenties, unconscious when we got to her. Woke up on route, wouldn't give us a name. Starting to get aggressive."
Oh, so it was going to be one of those days.
Trembles set in throughout (Y/n)'s system as she finally managed to get her eyes to blinker open for longer than a split second squint at her surroundings. The gurney had stopped. Alongside the paramedics, there was now a rather short, plump woman with a rather sceptical look on her face as she observed (Y/n). It put her on edge; she was looking at (Y/n) like she had done something horrid.
She tried to lift her head up when her eyes locked with this young woman, (Y/n) might be able to get through to her and ask her for help. She might be able to get them to go and find Dennis for her.
But trying to sit forward seemed to be a mistake because her body ignited with hot flames that sparked through her nerves and licked at her skin in a shuddering, skin-splitting way. She wanted to be sick, but her stomach was refusing to comply, keeping her in a queasy state that wouldn't dissipate.
She felt a hand pushing at her shoulder until she was pinned back against the bed and her knees jolted at the sudden intrusion. When a hand suddenly tried to grapple for her left wrist, (Y/n) coiled both arms to her chest and she tried to curl in on herself, but being compact only sufficed to make her feel worse.
A hand- a different one this time- pressed against her temple and suddenly her head was being pressed back into the gurney and a horrible white light pierced across both eyes like she had been blinded by fire. The action caused a vibration to roll through (Y/n)'s chest and her right arm flung out behind her to get rid of the touch.
What were they doing? Why were they grabbing at her like that? Why was no one trying to communicate with her? Were they always this rough and crude with all their patients? No wonder they suffered with patient satisfaction scores.
The gurney was moving again and the lurching motion made (Y/n)'s breath catch in her throat. She was sure she was about to throw up, but the feeling never arose.
(Y/n) tried, she tried her best to get her eyes in focus to see who was around her and try to communicate with them. Her sight was precious, it was one of the most precious things about her because it was her way of interacting with the world. Without her sight, (Y/n) would be isolated and alone.
Her head began to spin in slow, lazy circles like someone was slowly twisting her head around and around or winding her up like a doll.
It was difficult to work out what they were doing, these people surrounding her who were taking her somewhere. All of them acting as if she were a prisoner that they were transporting, someone who didn't deserve one kind word or to be told what they were about to do to and with her.
Their lips were moving at a fast pace. Their heads were turned at an angle so that (Y/n) could only see one half of their faces; one corner of their mouths. There was no way for her to work out what words they were uttering, and besides, they were talking too fast for her to try and catch one word of their conversation.
She was completely cut off, confined, isolated and ignored.
Where was her husband? Why wasn't he here? Why hadn't he walked by yet and seen her?
Trembles set deep in (Y/n)'s bones as she tried to uncurl her arms and hold her hands out in front of her. With unfocused, blurry eyes, (Y/n) held her left hand out palm-upwards and with her right hand as straight as a ruler, she bashed the side of her hand and pinky down into her palm.
Stop.
She wanted them to stop. She wanted them to stop moving, stop chatting and talking over her like she wasn't here, and stop ignoring her. They couldn't keep doing this, they had to help her, they had to do something to help not to ignore her.
Either they didn't pay any attention to her or they didn't care, and (Y/n) couldn't keep repeating the sign because her left wrist was throbbing. The joint had doubled in size and swollen up like a balloon. Bending her fingers was near impossible and moving her hand was an obstacle.
How was she going to sign if her wrist was broken or in the least, badly sprained or with a pulled tendon or muscle?
"Santos, are you free to help?" Princess looked ahead to where Trinity was slotting an Ipad back in place on the desk. They could use a doctor over here, and an extra set of hands if this patient was going to start getting aggressive with them.
With a nod, Trinity aimed their way just as they got the gurney into the room and the door closed behind them all.
"We're here to help, let us help you." Trinity smiled and held her hands out as if to show that she had no weapon and she was only going to help, but it didn't make much of a difference. (Y/n) still looked hesitant and frightened and she was staring at her as if none of her words had actually registered.
Shockwaves tore through (Y/n)'s skin when a set of hands settled on her shoulders, easing her back on the gurney she didn't want to be on. But then suddenly the rails were pulled down and she was swiftly yanked to the right.
(Y/n) hadn't realised she had been lying on top of a sheet, but then again, when the paramedics had gotten to her, she hadn't been conscious. She didn't know how long she had been out of it for before she woke up just as they got here. The sheet slid easily to the side and (Y/n) landed with a bump onto the bed, but the shock settled deep in her bones and had her quivering on the spot.
A slither of dread crept into her heart when the two paramedics took the gurney and suddenly they were gone. The door closed once again and it felt like bars to a cage had slammed shut around her, locking her in with an iron clad lock and chain.
With a shake of her head, (Y/n) coiled her arms to her chest again once someone tried to reach out for her. Their touch might have been soft and slow, but (Y/n) didn't want it. She wanted some form of communication, whether it was them speaking slowly so she could read their lips, or them writing down on paper or a computer to say what they were going to do.
She needed something because this wasn't working and she wanted to go home. (Y/n) wanted to be safe. She wanted to be with her husband.
Agony blasted up her left arm from the pain in her wrist but (Y/n) tried to swallow it down and push the feeling aside.
Her left palm held out in front of her again and she curled her right hand into the thumbs up position before she started tapping her fist down on her left hand. Again. And again. And again. But none of them took any notice to what she was doing or what she was trying to sign for.
Help.
Tears trickled down her face and she felt her throat vibrating with sound when her wrist throbbed and ached and it felt like her hand was about to drop off.
No one seemed to be paying any attention to what she was doing so (Y/n) tried to raise her trembling arms higher. She pushed her hands towards the young woman she presumed was some kind of doctor or healthcare worker, but her head snapped up at the intrusion.
Before (Y/n) could repeat the sign, a large pair of hands clamped around her arms but although they weren't touching her wrist, stabbing pains coursed through her arm nonetheless since her entire arm was starting to swell. Her arms jerked back towards her chest and she screeched, jaw clicking as her lips parted.
The hands curled around her arms pulled them away from the girl she was trying to interact with, whose attention and focus and help she was desperately trying to seek. They yanked her arms back and held them down towards her thighs until (Y/n) began to writhe when they didn't let go.
"Calm down."
Donny pushed the girl's arms back down towards her lap and gave her a stern look, but it washed over her completely. If she was going to try and whack them or hit Trinity then they would have to restrain her, and none of them wanted to do that.
With wide eyes, (Y/n) shook and writhed until she got out of the man's grip. He was tall with an imposing frame and stern features hidden behind the thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Her knees coiled up as she pushed herself back towards the pillows, scuffling to the head of the bed so she could curl up and make herself as compact as possible to be out of their reach.
Hands reached for her again but (Y/n) batted and pushed them away; they needed to listen to her before they did anything else to her.
Her right hand held up this time as she tried to do a sign that was more universal and simple for them to see. Her index finger pointed up while the rest of her fingers curled into her palm along with her thumb.
D.
Then she curled her thumb and pinky into her palm, leaving her three middle digits stuck up.
W.
Slowly, methodically, she repeated the two letters to try and get them to look and understand. D. W. Dennis Whitaker. (Y/n) wanted Dennis Whitaker. She wanted her husband here. He would know what to do, he would talk to them, he would explain and talk to (Y/n) and make everything better. He would make them all stop.
She tried to repeat the sign towards the young woman she had tried to interact with earlier, but then there was suddenly a touch on her left side and she shrieked.
Princess tried to hold her left arm and lift it for inspection, but then her focus shifted to the growing patch of blood on (Y/n)'s shirt on the lower left side of her chest. They would have to keep an eye on that. She tried to pull at the shirt to lift it up and reveal the wound but (Y/n) started leaning the other way, clearly growing agitated once again.
With the monitor turned on, Princess reached for the stickers and turned towards (Y/n). They needed to check her vitals and keep an eye on them, her blood pressure was probably sky high by now.
As soon as her hands were hovering over (Y/n)'s chest, trying to pull her collar away to attach them to her skin, (Y/n) slapped her hand to bat her away.
"Deep wound to the left chest, it'll need stitches. And an X-ray on the left wrist."
Panic surged through (Y/n) in horrid waves that brought bouts of sickness and breathlessness and her heart felt like it was about to give out with how harshly it was pounding against her ribs. The younger woman was wheeling over a tray set with needles, thread, pre-filled injections and a dark blue elastic band that looked like a child's belt.
I want Dennis! Where's Dennis?!
"Try and stay still, we need to stop the bleeding-"
A groan seethed through Trinity's gritted teeth when the patient tried to shuffle further up the bed and whack her good hand out at her.
Why was she being so uncooperative? Why wasn't she letting them help? She wouldn't speak, wouldn't interact and she kept trying to push and lash out at them. They might have to go and find Robby and get his advice if they couldn't get her to stop. She might need to be sedated if she carried on like this.
"Do we have any restraints?"
For a moment (Y/n) wondered if they were finally going to listen to her, if they were about to try and find someone who could help, who could make this better. Because all three of them stopped trying to reach down for her and they leaned back, giving her the air she needed to breathe and (Y/n) made the terrible mistake of closing her eyes for a few seconds too long.
When her eyes opened again, her lips parted into silent terror and white hot agony seared through her veins like poison.
They had ties- no, straps, just like belts in their hands which they were beginning to attach to the rails on the bed which they pulled up and locked into place. They were going to tie her down.
Oh God, what kind of a hospital is this?!
Tears starched her cheeks like acid rain cementing into her face and without thinking, without caring or taking the time to try and calm down, (Y/n) lashed out.
Her arms flung in all directions, despite the lightning bolts of pain that coursed through both her arms, ignited in her chest and lurched down to her toes and up to her head that was spinning in horrid circles. Her left wrist collided with someone's arm and a screech burst past her lips and made her blood tingle and curdle in her veins.
Her legs whacked, kicked and pummelled into anyone trying to push her down. They weren't going to pin her to this bed, she wouldn't allow it.
Her right hip collided with the rail and shocking vibrations rolled down her hip to her toes as she scrambled over the edge and flung herself to the floor. Her feet braced and took the impact but her knees soon crashed down when she couldn't hold herself up or support her weight properly.
Whoever had the displeasure of standing to her right got (Y/n)'s hand against their sternum, using her strength to push them back so she could bolt for the door.
Her sight, which was normally imperative and easy at noticing the little details, the unusual things and the mundane pieces of life, zoned in until she had tunnel vision, seeing only the door and the glistening tiles in the expansive hall that provided her means to escape.
She was sure that hands reached out for her. Fingertips brushed her skin, rough pinching grips tried to curl around her upper arms and pull her back. Someone managed to hang onto her shoulder and caught her hair in their attempt to yank her back and pull her to a stop, but (Y/n) didn't give them chance.
Her body ached and screamed and fire seared at her chest until she could scarcely take in any air and thought she was about to pass out. She couldn't. If (Y/n) passed out then they would get their hands on her and she would wake up strapped to a bed with no way of communicating or getting them to listen to her. They wouldn't help her. They were going to keep her as some kind if prisoner.
"She's bolting!"
"Stop! Stop- Ahmed we've got a runner." Donny waved his hand towards Ahmed, the security guard and then pointed at their patient who was skidding and tripping down the hall like she was a penguin on ice.
(Y/n)'s skin tingled a mixture of hot and cold and goosebumps tried to rise on her skin, body clearly confused at what was happening. She couldn't carry on like this for much longer, she was surely going to pass out. Stars were already twinkling in her vision along with the tears welling up in her eyes.
Oh no.
They had called for security. They were telling lies. (Y/n) had no way of knowing what they had said to the security guard who was aiming her way with determination in his eyes and a harsh expression on his face. Was he going to tackle her to the ground? Would he pin her down? Would they handcuff her- even with her damaged wrist? Would they lock her in a room and hide her away?
She was sure some kind of wail or screech left her lips, her throat vibrated and scratched as if she made a sound, but it didn't really matter.
Her legs felt like they were being filled with cement, they were growing heavier by the second and (Y/n) knew without a doubt that in less than ten seconds, she was going to be done for. She would either collapse or that guard would catch her because she was stumbling and he was pelting fast and steady on unwavering legs with a body that wasn't rattled with shock and trauma. He had the upper hand here and she wasn't going to win.
Just then, as it happened when she arrived and saw those four letters stamped onto the side of the building like an angelic sign from Heaven, (Y/n) saw another sign.
A mop of dirty sand-coloured hair with crimped curls and tiny waves came into view. A slender frame with tough shoulders and a body that was rocking back and forth from the heels to the toes in the same manner that (Y/n) had grown accustomed to watching and admiring.
His back was to her, but that made no difference whatsoever because he was there. Here. Right in front of her. The person she had been crying and aching to find. The only one who could make any of this better and sort everything out for her.
Dennis.
"I'll go schedule you for an MRI and get your labs-" Dennis backed out of the tiny make-shift cubicle that was separated by dark blue curtains pulled across for a small sense of privacy.
His smile reached his eyes and he nodded at the lady perched on the bed who he was going to try and squeeze in for an MRI before the day was out.
He had no time to finish his sentence or give her any more reassurance because just as Dennis turned his body to the right, something whacked him like a bowling ball striking down the last pin in the lane.
A gasp burst past his lips and his lungs ached as all the air was forcefully punched out of them by something. Not something, someone. A body.
Despite the agony that rippled and burst to life within (Y/n), she launched herself at her husband until she was sure she had fused their bodies together for good. Her front slammed into him, causing Dennis to stumble onto his back foot, and then another two paces backwards until he managed to regain his sense of balance just before they both went toppling to the floor.
Her arms locked like bars around Dennis's chest until her hands were clutching at his back and her fingers pushed so forcefully into him that her nails seemed to cut right through his scrubs and latch into his skin like teeth. Her head thrust down into his chest, nose pressed up against his sternum and lips smashed against his scrubs that were already turning damp from each shallow, coarse breath she tried to take.
"Oh God," Dennis muttered to himself until he was chanting those same two words on a repeat under his breath.
His large eyes seemed to grow even wider and his pupils dilated until there was nothing but black holes visible on his face. He breathed like he had been shot, scrambling to intake oxygen again and again until his lungs finally stuttered back into working order.
Dennis found himself shaking as his left arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist, pinning her to him as if someone was going to come by and try and rip her out of his grasp. But his right hand immediately moved to cup the back of her head, fingers weaving into her hair as he clutched her in a viper's grip against his chest.
"Oh God, oh baby." Dennis realised he was starting to dig his fingers into her waist and scalp almost as tightly as she was clutching him and he froze up when it clearly caused (Y/n) to whimper into his scrubs.
Why was she here? Why was she running like she was being chased by a murderer? What had gotten her into such a state? When had she gotten to the hospital? Was she hurt or was she here to see him specifically?
"Hey, Whitaker caught her."
As quick as lightning Dennis found his head snapping to the left and his wide eyes narrowed into slits that were shooting daggers in Trinity's direction. If looks could kill she would have needed a crash cart by now.
He could feel his skin heating up and burning like he was set out in the desert sun and a horrible shade of red blistered across his neck and took over his whole complexion. But it was the way that his lips parted into a glowering, upcurled snarl that made him look frighteningly dangerous, despite the confusion that was dwelling deep within his gut.
"Caught her?" He hissed, his arms instinctively tightening around (Y/n) before he seemed to implode. "Caught her?"
He echoed again, harsher this time with a razor sharp edge to his voice that seemed to cut through the air and gather the attention of every passing worker in the ER. All heads turned in their direction, watching the interaction with confused, eager eyes while patients tried to look and see if some drama was about to begin and keep them entertained during their wait.
"What the Hell are you doing to her?"
If he had caught her then that implied all of them had been chasing her, and Dennis did not like the thought of that. Not one bit. He wanted to know what on Earth they had been up to, frightening his wife into such a state like this and it better be a good explanation or Dennis would unleash terror on them all.
"She- she was fighting us, then she bolted. We were trying to stop her." A deep scowl etched onto Trinity's features and she shook her head while her hands found her hips in defence.
A patient had fled, she needed medical attention and they didn't know why she had run. She could have hurt someone or been involved in some kind of accident that was her own fault, she might have thought they would call the police. They had to stop her from hurting herself or causing harm to any other patient too. They couldn't have people running through the ER.
A growl rumbled in Dennis's chest, something very unlike him and which caused all his colleagues to want to take a step away from him. Their little farm boy turned doctor wasn't the kind of person who got angry, not even when he had every right to. Seeing him this disgruntled and riled up was like watching a bomb begin to tick and count down.
He looked between the three of them who were caught between wanting to walk away and wanting to step closer and try to diffuse the situation.
But he hurriedly glanced down to his wife when her nails finally released from puncturing into his skin. Her trembling arms slid from around his chest and she leant back just enough so that there was two inches of space between them, but Dennis knew better than to think she was about to let go of him entirely. She wanted to talk.
He watched, concentration fully cemented on her as she held out one hand palm- upwards while her other hand was curled into a fist with her thumb sticking up. She then brought her fist down onto her palm, repeating the motion again and again with more vigour each time until she was wincing and crying from the pain it caused in her wrist.
Help.
Sliding his hands around to her elbows, Dennis gave a tight squeeze and pulled her back into his chest as he nodded vigorously, uttering "Okay," under his breath.
He curved one arm around her waist again, hand splaying out on the small of her back as he kept her tucked into his chest. When (Y/n) burrowed her face back against his sternum and started to breathe fast and shallow against his chest, Dennis perched his chin on top of her head.
Part of him was relieved when he saw Robby jogging towards them with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, but then again, Dennis didn't want a crowd or a big commotion.
"Guys, what are we all doing over here?" Robby edged closer to Dennis and scanned his eyes up and down (Y/n), trying to figure whether she was a patient or a relative and work out why they were all arguing and forming a hostile crowd over here.
"The patient, she was erratic-"
Dennis felt his chest vibrating with another growl that clearly made (Y/n) shiver in his arms. "She's deaf! She couldn't understand you, and now you've all petrified her."
A stiff tension like a settling fog formed in the ER as eyes exchanged glances and hollow jaws began to drop. Dennis felt like rolling his eyes and scoffing at each of them as they stared at him with growing horror and tension that made them twitch and shift uncomfortably.
So they should all feel bad, they should feel ashamed and horrified. (Y/n) had asked them for help, she had clearly been crying and pushing and fighting for them to stop or take a moment to try and interact and communicate with her rather than simply frighten her. None of them stopped for a second to think that there could be an underlying issue here.
"Deaf?" Both Princess and Trinity echoed with such mellow voices and big eyes like they were children who had wandered into a grown up situation.
"Yes, she's deaf." Dennis spat before he stretched his arms out in front of him so (Y/n) was still huddled against his chest but his arms were straight out behind her.
He held his hand out and slammed his fist into his palm with his thumb sticking up with such force that a slapping sound echoed off the walls and everyone was shivering at the sound. He signed it again and again, towards Princess, then Trinity, then Donny who was stood to one side with his hands out in front of him like he was surrendering to Dennis's wrath.
"This is the sign for help, it doesn't mean you harass the patient and chase them through the corridors."
"Alright, enough. Whitaker, you know sign language, yes? Then you could take over the patient's care, it seems she trusts you."
Stepping forward, Robby held one arm out in Dennis's direction to stop him from reprimanding his colleagues. They had done wrong and they knew it, but this wasn't the time or the place to be giving each other lessons and teachable moments.
If the patient was deaf and Dennis knew sign language then clearly they had a solution here. He could care for this patient and hopefully make her feel calm and settled again so they could patch her up and look after her.
But when Robby turned towards the patient, she seemed to shake like she thought his outstretched hand was going to slap her or grab and restrain her. Her hands clutched at Dennis's scrubs until the collar was digging into the back of his neck and she was pushing herself into his chest for some sense of safety and protection.
"Of course she trusts me she's my wife."
A round of wide eyes stared back at him like he had teleported right before their eyes with no explanation or reasoning.
It wasn't common knowledge that Dennis was married. He wore his ring on a silver chain around his neck because he had heard far too many stories of rings or even chains getting snapped, getting caught in equipment or sliding right off and compromising a patient's treatment. No way would Dennis risk his most precious item by losing it at work or having it slide off from all the antibac they used before he put on a pair of gloves.
If anyone bothered to ask, then Dennis would have openly told them he had married the love of his life. And if they probed deeper they would have learnt that his wife was deaf and he had studied sign language every night since he met her so he could ask her on a date and make sure he could understand her.
But no one had asked; no one bothered or cared enough to take an interest and now they had petrified his wife because they lacked people skills and couldn't understand why she was so frightened and defensive with them.
A sigh left Robby's lips and he nodded, moving one hand to scratch the back of his head as he took a look up at the screen above the desk.
"Alright, well room four is free, take her in there and get her checked over and assessed. King can assist you."
Mel, who had been stood at the side of the main desk with her hands tightly bound in front of her, lifted her head in surprise. There was a shocked, wide-eyed look on her face as if she had been told she was now the head of the ER. But she swiftly replaced the look with a bright smile and nodded eagerly.
"We didn't know… I can still assist-"
"You three just chased her through the ER, I don't think any of you treating her is a good idea. Santos go to triage, and try to remember your people skills."
The sharp look Robby gave them all made each of them look away in shame, furious blushes tainting both Trinity and Princess's faces. Robby wasn't going to let any of them near (Y/n) after they had petrified her like that, running after her through the ER after God knows how much miscommunication and terror in the assessment room.
They would scar (Y/n) for life if any of them went back to trying to care for her and Robby couldn't have that. He could also sense that Dennis being around those three colleagues would make him hold a grudge and become snappy with them. A bit of distance between them all would be a good thing.
With a deep breath that wracked his chest and made his ribs tense and ache, Dennis carefully unwound his arms from around (Y/n) so he could lean back and look down at her properly.
He did his best to smile, although he was aware that it didn't reach his eyes and there was still a glimmer of anger shimmering across his face.
"It's okay now."
His right hand held out at his side with his thumb, index and middle fingers pressed together forming an O shape before he then pressed his thumb up against the centre of his middle finger with his index finger pointing upwards. The sign for okay.
(Y/n) nodded, but it felt like her body was still filling up with cement that was trying to lock her in place and prevent her from moving in any direction or from even lifting her arms up.
A light tap to her arm caused her to flinch forward into Dennis out of instinct while her head jolted to the left.
Mel retracted her hand and held both hands in front of her, clearly somewhat anxious because of the way she was pinching her fingers and constantly flexing them. But she had a rather vibrant way of smiling so that it reached her eyes and looked nothing less than sincere.
(Y/n) watched the blonde point to the wall where there was a square plaque outside of each room with the numbers plastered in the centre, along with braille underneath. Then she held up four fingers and motioned ahead.
Room four. That was where they were all going.
"This way."
Finally. Someone who looked directly at (Y/n) when they spoke and punctuated each word slow enough that (Y/n)'s frazzled mind could comprehend what formations their lips were making.
(Y/n) stayed huddled into Dennis's side as they walked across the hall towards room four. Her head bowed down to look at the floor, not wanting to lift her eyes and stare at any of his colleagues. She felt embarrassed enough with the crowd that had formed and the scene she had made. Not to mention how angry Dennis was now, which was clearly something his co-workers had never seen before.
Everything finally felt calmer when the three of them entered the room and the door was closed behind them. It didn't feel like (Y/n) had been trapped in a cage with an iron lock barricading her inside. She had the one person she had been aching to see, the only person she was comfortable with looking after her. And someone else who seemed to understand how to communicate with her effectively.
When Dennis patted the bed, (Y/n) clambered up but she didn't want to lie down. Her legs swung lazily back and forth on the edge until Dennis suddenly stepped forward and merged himself between her thighs.
"What happened?" His voice was quiet, the way it usually was at home because the world was always so loud until he stepped through those doors and that comforting, mellow atmosphere enveloped him. He kept up eye contact while he waited for (Y/n) to explain why she was here.
Dennis had clocked the blood on her shirt and registered her left wrist which was clearly causing her pain. She hadn't come here to find him, she was definitely a patient today.
He noted out the corner of his eye that Mel was switching on the monitors and getting everything set up, and he was grateful.
When he looked back down at (Y/n), he realised just how badly she was shaking even though she had started to calm down.
She pointed to herself, then held one palm out and tapped her middle and index fingers along her palm in a walking motion. Her hands then held out straight at her sides, parallel to one another as she moved her hands back and forth like she was cutting something with her palms.
But when Dennis watched her hands curl into fists and move up and down in the imitation of a steering wheel, he could feel his skin prickling with heat. His stomach lurched when her silent words dawned on him and he realised what had happened.
"A car hit you?" With blown pupils, Dennis clapped his hands sharply before pointing at (Y/n) to sign his question.
She nodded.
Crossing the road had never been an issue or a danger before. (Y/n) barely made it halfway across the crossing before the car came speeding down the road, and there wasn't enough time to sprint and flee from the path. She knew she had been lucky, a pedestrian being hit by a car usually came with catastrophic injuries. She had gotten away lightly, all things considered.
"Oh baby."
A chaste kiss puckered to her temple before Dennis held his hands out in front of him, his fingers and thumbs curled into his palms with only his index fingers sticking out. He held his hands opposite one another like parallel magnets, the tips of his fingers touching before he pulled his hands apart in opposite directions and repeated the sign again.
"Where are you hurt?" He uttered softly with such tenderness in his eyes that (Y/n) found herself overwhelmed with tears.
She knew he had seen the wound to her left side, he was constantly looking towards the blood like he was expecting a river to start gushing down her side at any given moment. But it was her wrist that was causing the most grievance, so (Y/n) held her trembling hand out for him to see.
His touch was ever so tender, fingertips barely inflicting any pressure as he squeezed her fingertips to check for feeling and blood flow before starting to tap and press as lightly as possible around her wrist.
Her head lifted when she caught movement out the corner of her eye, and her attention shifted to Mel who was stood with that tender smile. And in her hands were two stickers attached to wires that Mel held close to her own chest so she didn't unsettle or frighten (Y/n). She didn't want to just attach the monitors without her permission or understanding first.
Mel motioned the stickers to her own chest, signalling where they would go. "To check your heart and vitals." She sensed from the way Dennis talked that (Y/n) could read his lips if he was careful and pronounciated.
(Y/n) nodded, holding her breath when the stickers were attached to her chest, feeling rather like safety pins had poked through her skin but she tried to ignore the sensation. She stayed still and kept her eyes on Mel who now had the stethoscope in her hand which she gently pressed against (Y/n)'s back to hear her breathing.
When she felt Dennis carefully lay her hand down on her thigh, finished with his exam of her wrist, (Y/n) leant back now that Mel was also done with the stethoscope. And she pulled the hem of her shirt up until it was bunched near her bra so Dennis could see the gash to her left side.
The pain was coming back to her in flickers like a candle was slowly moving closer and closer to her side and now the flame was starting to sear and scorch her skin.
Reaching out behind him, Dennis grabbed a stool from the corner and wheeled it closer so he could sit down comfortably and assess her. He stayed in between her thighs, her knees lovingly pressing and squeezing into his hips and the dip in his torso while he checked the wound.
The way (Y/n) flinched caused him to trail his hands higher and start pressing on her ribs, counting each one and feeling for any break or sense of weakness.
His lips pursed as he turned his head and looked up towards Mel who was stood, patiently waiting to be told what Dennis wanted her to do. (Y/n) was his wife, therefore his patient and Mel would take his lead and be here for support, she would never dream or pushing in and taking over (Y/n)'s care and treatment.
"Can you get the portable X-ray please?"
"Sure."
(Y/n) grimaced when she watched Dennis bring over a tray with equipment in, some of which caught her eye and she recognised needle and thread and a lot of cotton swabs and antiseptic. She watched him lift the needle and thread, moving it back and forth as he softly uttered "You need stitches."
He suddenly realised how tired (Y/n) looked; she was wiped out and he wouldn't be surprised if she started to flag and laid down soon in utter exhaustion. He wouldn't blame her after what she had been through today.
He put the needle down, wanting to exchange it for some cotton swabs so he could clean the wound before he attempted a neat row of stitches, but the look in (Y/n)'s eyes made his heart throb and ache in his chest. He reached a gloved hand down to squeeze her thigh as a look of sorrow bubbled up within his eyes.
"I'm sorry they scared you." His free hand curled into a fist and rubbed in circles around his chest before both hands moved to hover in front of his chest and shake back and forth.
Both (Y/n)'s hands held out palm-up in front of her and she began to squeeze her fingers to her palms like she was clutching something, and then she pointed at Dennis.
'I wanted you.'
"I know," he nodded, heartache prominent in his chest as he pushed forward, both hands curled around her thighs while he sealed his lips over hers in a deepened kiss. "I'm here now, I've got you."
Hello! Could you write something with Dennis Whitaker (she/her reader) where the reader calls him in the middle of the night because she's stranded somewhere and doesn't have anyone else? Like a fluffy / sweet vibe, please? 💙💙💙
Knight in shinning armor
Dennis X Fem!Reader
Warnings: bad friends (not Dennis), fluff, mild swearing, minor injury (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, friends with feelings, mutual pinning, Santos makes an appearance, reader is a barista, soft ending
Word count: 2.2K The Pitt masterlist
It was official. You had the worst friends ever.
You probably should’ve dumped them a long time ago, but they were basically the only people you had in Pittsburgh—people you’d met during college, people you’d thought you’d keep in your life forever. That illusion had been cracking for a while now, but tonight? Tonight was the final straw.
You stood outside the bar, rubbing your hands together as you tried to ward off the cold. You were supposed to have left with one of the girls you’d come with. It had been arranged. Promised.
Apparently, that hadn’t meant a damn thing.
You’d gone to the bathroom, and when you came back, scanning the crowd for her familiar face, she was gone. Your stomach had dropped as you pulled your phone out, eyes landing on a string of messages.
Sorry!!! Met a cute guy. Going home with him. You understand, right?
You let out a humorless laugh. She’d left you for a hookup and hadn’t even bothered to check if you had a ride home.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered.
You opened the Uber app, fingers hovering over the screen—only for your phone to shut off completely.
“Fuck,” you whispered.
You hadn’t brought your charger. You hadn’t been paying attention to your battery. You hadn’t thought you’d need to. You’d been promised a ride home.
Apparently, promises didn’t mean shit anymore.
You dragged a hand over your face, letting yourself feel defeated for exactly five seconds before forcing yourself into problem-solving mode. That’s when you noticed the phone at the back of the bar—old, clunky, straight out of another decade.
You asked the bartender if it still worked. When he confirmed it did, you dug a quarter out of your purse and fed it into the slot.
There was only one number you knew by heart.
The phone rang three times before you heard his voice.
“Hello?”
“Denny—hey. It’s me.”
That was all it took.
You currently found yourself standing in the cold, eyes glancing down the road as you waited for Dennis’s car to pull around the corner. The headlights finally cut through the darkness, and your chest lifted a little. Relief surged as the car slowed, pulling up to the curb.
Dennis leaned out the window, already scanning the street for you, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips when he spotted you shivering on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” he said softly as he stepped out. “Cold?”
“Freezing,” you admitted, trying to hide how rattled you actually felt.
Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders. The warmth hit immediately, and you couldn’t help but breathe a little easier, the tension in your shoulders melting just a bit.
“You okay?” he asked again, eyes studying you like he wanted to make sure nothing had happened while you waited for him.
You nodded, though your lips quivered. “Yeah… better now.”
“Good,” he murmured, offering a hand to help guide you to the car. “Get in. Let’s get you home.”
The drive was quiet, the city lights blurring past, but it was the kind of quiet that felt safe, not awkward.
You’d known Dennis for a couple of years. You had first met when you’d stumbled into the ER with a large gash on your hand—the knife had slipped while you were making lunch, and before you knew it, you were bleeding.
Dennis had been helping in the chairs when you walked in, his eyes moving from your slightly panicked expression to the red-stained cloth you pressed to your arm.
He had moved immediately, weaving his way through the room until he was beside you. You jumped slightly when he spoke, but relaxed almost instantly when you realized he was a doctor.
“Can I have a look?” he asked, his hand moving to hold your arm.
You nodded, removing the cloth from your wound so he could examine it. Your eyes trailed over his features as he gently moved his fingers against your skin. He looked about your age, and he was… very handsome. That was the first thing that came to your mind.
“Oh, it’s not so bad. Nothing a couple of stitches won’t fix. Come with me—I’ll get you patched up.”
You still remembered how gently he had stitched you up. You still remembered the way your heart had fluttered when he finished, covering your wound with a soft smile and a quiet, “All done.”
You’d left the ER that day hoping to see him again, but knowing it would probably be unlikely.
It turned out that sometimes, you do get what you wish for—because about two days later, he walked into the coffee shop you worked at.
You started with your usual greeting, focused on the screen in front of you as you spoke, but when you finally raised your gaze to look at the customer, your eyes widened slightly as you caught sight of him. His expression shifted into one of recognition as well, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through you.
“Hey,” you let out, a little too breathy.
Dennis smiled. “Hi.”
You both just stared at each other for a moment, until you remembered you were at work and that there was a line of people waiting behind him. You shook your head and snapped out of it.
“So… uh, what can I get for you?”
“Oh, uh, yeah—” Dennis’s eyes moved from yours to the menu above his head, scanning quickly. “I’ll have a cappuccino and a black coffee.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
You put his order in, giving him a soft smile as you watched him step away to wait for it. It was only when he was already at the pickup counter that he realized he hadn’t given you his name. He was about to walk back to the counter when someone called out his name.
He made his way over, sure he was probably mistaking himself for someone else, but there on the counter lay a cappuccino and a black coffee.
You had remembered his name.
The smile that spread across his face was soft and genuine.
He wanted to say something to you, but the line was already huge, and if he didn’t get going now, he was sure to be late for his shift. So he just let the feeling linger in his chest, hoping he would have another chance to talk to you.
He made his way over to where Santos stood waiting for him. He handed her the black coffee and took a sip of his cappuccino as they began making their way to the ER.
A few blocks from the ER, Santos tilted her cup, squinting at the writing on it.
“Huh… I think you messed up our orders or something,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.
Dennis frowned. “What do you mean?”
Santos held up the cup, revealing a scribbled phone number along the side. She smirked.
“Looks like someone put their number on my cup. Maybe the cute barista had a little crush or something. I can’t believe she thought you were a black coffee drinker… Unless she meant this for me, which, you know…”
Dennis blinked, a little flustered. “Pretty sure she didn’t mean it for you.”
“Hey,” Santos said, nudging him lightly, “you never know.” She grinned, obviously enjoying teasing him.
When they arrived at the ER, Santos handed the empty cup back to him, her grin widening.
“Make sure to save it on your phone, Huckleberry.”
Dennis shook his head at her, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He took a quick picture of your number before tossing the cup in the trash and diving into his shift.
By the time they got home, both of them were exhausted. Dennis glanced at the clock, a frown forming as he realized it was probably too late to send you a message. Santos, as usual, seemed to be able to read his mind.
“You should text her,” she said, smirking. “You already kept her waiting all day. The poor girl probably thinks she scared you off.”
Santos was right. It was probably best to say something, even if it was late. After all, you knew he worked at the ER—it was where you’d met—so you wouldn’t be surprised by a late-night text.
He pulled out his phone, saved your contact, and sent a simple, “Hey, what’s up?”
And the rest was history.
“How was your shift?”
Your words pulled Dennis’s attention away from the road for a moment, his eyes moving to you in the passenger seat, his gaze softening at the sight of you in his jacket.
“Long,” he admitted, a small sigh escaping him. “Busy, like always.”
“Any interesting cases?”
Dennis rubbed his eyes with his hand, trying to remember if anything had stood out during his shift. His brain was tired from all the hours of work, but he wanted to keep the conversation going.
A small yawn escaped his mouth before he could stop it, the sound making you glance over at him.
You felt bad all of a sudden—he had probably just gotten home when you’d called him. Shit. You hadn’t even stopped to think about that.
“Actually… there was this one case today that reminded me of something. A chef came in—still in his uniform, with a deep cut on his hand. He was worried about getting back to the lunch rush, kept apologizing for the disruption. It made me think… about the day we met. His gash was worse than yours, though.”
He smiled softly as he said it, and your chest tightened even more. From the moment you’d met, Dennis had always been the one you knew you could count on to come to your rescue.
You swallowed, a little ache of guilt creeping in.
“Sorry for calling you. I didn’t even think about the time… you’re probably exhausted, and I just made you come out here to get me.”
Dennis shook his head immediately, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he reached over to gently grab your hand.
“Hey. You can always come to me, you know. Doesn’t matter what time it is. You’ve always got me in your corner.”
You felt warmth spread through your chest at his words.
“Thanks,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand back.
He smiled at you again, glancing briefly at the road, and the rest of the drive passed in a comfortable, easy quiet.
When you finally pulled up to your house, Dennis killed the engine, and before you could tell him he didn’t need to, he was already stepping out of the car to open the door for you. You accepted his hand as he helped you get out.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Even once you were standing on the sidewalk, Dennis didn’t let go of your hand right away. You stared at him for a moment, your heart fluttering with that familiar feeling that always lingered whenever he was around.
“I need better friends.”
The words escaped before you realized it, maybe because the quiet was making you nervous.
Dennis let go of your hand and ran it through his hair, and you already missed the warmth of his fingers.
“I could introduce you to some of mine, if you want.”
Your eyes widened at the offer. It was such a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about how much Dennis wanted you in his life.
“The girls from the ER are really cool. I’m sure you guys would get on great,” he said, giving you a sincere smile. “And they’re really reliable too.”
“I guess being reliable is kind of a need when you work in the emergency department,” you said, a small laugh escaping you.
Dennis chuckled, making you smile in return. You let out a sigh, eyes drifting toward your building.
“Well, I should probably let you go. I’m sure you need to rest before your shift tomorrow.”
Before you could think much of it, you shifted forward, placing a soft kiss on Dennis’s cheek.
“Thanks for rescuing me… again.”
Dennis flushed, his cheeks stained pink. He hoped you couldn’t see it in the moonlight.
“Anytime,” he said softly.
You turned, making your way to the door. Dennis stood by his car, watching you go. When you paused before heading inside and gave him a small wave, he returned the gesture.
You closed the door to your apartment and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a sigh and smiling softly to yourself. What would you do without Dennis Whitaker? You hoped you’d never have to find out.
Something told you you wouldn’t.
You pushed yourself off the door and headed inside, the apartment quiet and warm around you. Your phone sat on the counter, still dead, but for the first time that night, you didn’t feel unsettled anymore.
Because no matter how bad the night had gone, no matter how unreliable people could be, you knew one thing for certain. If you ever found yourself stranded again—cold, overwhelmed, unsure—you had someone who would always answer.
