Summary: when you wake up at 3am with a dry throat you think you can manage sneaking into Dennis’ kitchen without getting caught. However his roommates girlfriend catches you in the act revealing everything you and Dennis had been hiding.
Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!! PnV, smut, p with little plot, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), secret relationship, Santos x Garcia, oral(f!recieving), fingering, hickies, getting caught. Probably spelling mistakes but 🤷♀️
The two of you giggled as Dennis reached behind him blindly to lock his door. His full attention was on how your lips chased his the entire way to his room. The moment the door clicked his hands were all over you. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt to guide you to his bed. He tried shushing your giggles but in return it only drew more laughter from him as well. “Shh Santos will hear you.. she.. is.. awake..” You keep interrupting every other word with another kiss.
“You gonna make sure I’m quiet? Make me.” You tease before looping your fingers through his belt loops and falling backwards onto his bed, pulling him down with you. His cheeks were flushed from the sudden attention you gave him upon entering his and Santos’ apartment. His mouth clashed against yours in a playful yet needy way. Like he was fighting back a smile but craving your taste.
You push him away and quickly pull off his shirt letting it fall beside the bed. His lips were back on yours the moment the piece of clothing was gone. Your lips trail down leaving dark marks along his collarbone and chest. His hands move up your shirt leaving a trail of goosebumps where his fingers grazed.
“I want you so bad Denny, need you.” You mutter against his lips making his hips grind down against yours. A quiet whimper leaves his lips as his hand peel off your clothes. His hand dives beneath your panties letting his fingers run through your wet folds. He groans at the feeling of his fingers gliding easily along your cunt.
“God.. you’re so wet..” He whispers to himself as if he is in awe that he can make you this way. His sloppy kisses move down your jaw before reaching your neck. Lightly sucking certain areas feeling how you squirm beneath him with each suck. His fingers run up and down your folds before his middle and ring finger plunge into you. A moan rips from your lips which he quickly muffles with his own. Another messy kiss starts as his fingers slowly thrust into you.
“You’re squeezing my fingers so well.. so perfect.” He praises you between kisses. You notice the way his hips grind into the mattress with each pitiful noise you make. He moves down so his face is settled between your thighs. He looks up at you as if asking for permission to taste you. “Please Dennis..”
He pulls aside your panties and begins lapping up the juices his fingers created. Your moans gradually get louder the more his mouth works on you. His hand reaches up to cover your mouth but his finger end up on your lips. You let his index and middle finger fall into your mouth and begin sucking on them to help distract yourself from being too noisy. His hips stutter against the mattress. He ruts his hips continuously into the bed trying to relieve some tension in his pants.
Dennis moans into your heat feeling the way your tongue swirls around his fingers. He feels the way your moans vibrate against his fingers and it drives him mad. He notices the way your hips begin twitching signaling that you’re close. His free hand moves to your clit where his thumb presses quick circles against it. His tongue works meticulously to drive you over the edge practically moaning as you squeeze your thighs against either side of his head.
You wanted to speak but with his fingers in your mouth all you could do was let out pitiful moans as you release onto his chin. The sight in front of you has your eyes rolling back. His chin was glistening as he pulls away from your cunt with a satisfied grin.
He wipes off your juices before moving to kick off his pants and boxers. He pulls off your panties completely leaving both of you bare. “Please Dennis. I need you inside of me..” Your body squirms still feeling the after effects of your previous orgasm.
“Gonna make you feel good, just gotta stay quiet for me.. can you do that for me?” You nod eagerly just wanting him to be inside of you already. He lines himself up before slowly sinking down. His lips capture yours making your moans go straight into his mouth. He gives a few shallow thrusts before sinking in completely. You pull away breathlessly as you adjust to him.
“You’re so perfect.. so pretty taking me so well.” He presses kisses against your temple as he reassures you. “I’m going to move, is that alright?” He asks as you close your eyes and nod. Slowly enough he begins to set a steady pace which takes your breath away. “Oh fuck Dennis.. mm so deep.. feel so good.” Your words slur together as his cock brings you pure bliss.
“So.. tight shit I’m not going to last long with you squeezing me like this..” He huffs out as his pace increases. His hands palm at your breast needing to feel more of you. Each thrust pulls quiet squeaks and moans from your throat. He can feel it when you start to get close with how you squeeze him.
“Shit I’m going to cum.. fuck..” he curses feeling your legs wrap around him to pull him closer. He moves his hand down drawing tight circles against you flit sending you reeling. “Inside please.. I wanna feel you fill me up Denny.. please.” You beg making him whimper as he speeds up before finally shooting his load into you. The feeling drives you over the edge as your climax reaches at the same time.
He gives you sloppy kisses as the two of your work through your orgasms. Heavy breathing and faint whimpers fills the room as you both come down from your highs. “Holy shit.. god I love you so much.” He stays there for a moment still buried inside of you. Slowly he pulls himself out of you drawing a quiet and unsatisfied moan from you. “I love you too.. let’s get you cleaned up.. I think today’s shift is catching up to me”
3:24 AM
You felt yourself awake before your eyes and mind could even process anything. A low groan sounds from your throat as you shift around feeling a heavy weight around your waist.
You look down and see your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your body as his soft snores reach your ears. You would’ve taken the time to admire him but the dry feeling in your throat quickly grabbed your attention.
“Hey Denny.. Dennis..” Your hand reaches out to shake the sleeping man but your attempts prove useless as he shifts around and falls right back asleep. You look at his door that taunted you. You knew it was risky going out there alone but you couldn’t stand the scratchy feeling in your throat any longer.
You slide yourself out of bed and grab the nearest article of clothing which happened to be Dennis shirt that was disgarded a couple hours ago. You rummage through his drawers before finding a pair of shorts to slide on. Slowly you make your way out of his room to hopefully find some water.
You tiptoe to the kitchen trying to be as stealthy as possible. Once in the kitchen you rummage through some cabinets to grab a cup when the light comes on startling you into dropping the cup with a loud clatter.
“What the hell are you doing here L/n?” You quickly spin around and see Dr Garcia standing in the entryway. “Garcia? I uh.. just um..” You stand there awkwardly as she examines your clothing and the fact that none of it was your own.
“It was late and Den- Whitaker offered to let me stay here for the night.. I didn’t really have a change of clothes so he gave me this.” You quickly lie and for a moment she looked as if she believed you.
That was until a shirtless Dennis Whitaker walked out of his room with two hickeys very clearly present on his chest. He was still clearly not fully awake as he rubbed his eyes. “Y/n.. why are you up so early I-” He stops talking upon seeing Garcia “Oh shit.” He quickly retreats back to his room. His comes back out pulling a dirty shirt on his body that was clearly inside out.
“What is going on out here?” Suddenly Santos was walking out of her room into the mess that was occurring. Garcia looks at the two of you now picking up what was going on. “You’re sleeping with Whitaker?” She asks making Santos’ eyes widen as a smile reaches her lips.
She sees your flustered look and the way Dennis’ hair was unruly, his face was bright red, and he was down to an inside out shirt and boxer shorts. “It’s not what it looks like!” He quickly defends but Santos just laughs. “Really because I can see those hickies peaking out from your collar and not a single article of clothing on Y/n is theirs.”
You and Dennis share a look knowing you were officially caught. “How long has this been going on?” Garcia questioned making you avoid eye contact. “7 months ago.. we have been dating for 6..” Her and Santos share a look of disbelief.
“Does Robby know? Does Dana?” Santos immediately starts interrogating before you shut her down. “No nobody knows. Technically you two weren’t supposed to know either but I couldn’t wake him up and my throat felt like the Sahara desert… it’s a secret..”
Santos and Garcia share another look that you can’t even begin to decipher. “So you’re saying we are the only ones that know about your top tier secret that you and Huckleberry are sleeping with eachother?” You slowly nod. “Please just promise me that this stays between us?”
Santos and Garcia eventually agreed to keep the secret to the grave. However your next shift proved that someone didn’t keep that promise. Perlah and Princess interrogated you as Frank and Dana teased Dennis. Ultimately Robby had you fill out some forms to make sure that you two would remain professional if anything regarding your relationship happened on shift. Whether that be a breakup or one of the two of you getting hurt. The reaction wasn’t as bad as you had thought it would be but now you knew never to tell Santos or Garcia any secret that you didn’t want the entire day shift knowing.
A/n: This is my own original work however I do not own the characters in the story. If you want to repost my work on other platforms please communicate with me first. I’ve been sucked into the Pitt over the past few weeks and something about Whitaker just sparked something in me and rekindled my need to write. Hope you enjoyed!!
summary - you really do like dennis, even when you don’t show.
a/n - first huckleberry fic 🤭 this one is super cute. denny gets sad but then he feels better. this is not how this medical emergency would be treated btw, but plot. in my head for some reason reader has a bunch of tattoos but it’s not in the story. denny is a smitten kitten. i’m craving greek rlly bad now. enjoy!
—
Trinity was sick.
She was sick of watching Whitaker trail after you like a puppy. Sick of his heart eyes. Sick of hearing him gush.
“Did you see her with that little kid? She’s a natural.”
“She wore a bubble braid today. I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“Have you ever seen Fargo? I haven’t, but she says it's really good, I need to try it.”
“I wish I was as smart as her, did you see how quickly she clocked that liver laceration?”
Not that Trinity couldn’t appreciate an intelligent woman, but it was a liver lac for Christ's sake. There was a time when the boy would shy away from saying things like that, from opening himself up to ridicule. After growing up with three older brothers, he learned quickly what could put a target on your back, and having a crush on a pretty girl was high on the list.
But Trinity just had to push, to dig, to force his obvious feelings out into the open. Once they were, it was like a dam broke.
Because Dennis Whitaker was head over heels in love with you.
From the moment he stepped foot into the pitt, you were on his mind. Almost twelve months ago, as a fresh faced MS4 hiding out in an empty hospital wing, homesick for Nebraska, he had no one. When he caught sight of your face, a bit nervous like his, but with an edge that told him “I know more than you,” he latched.
You were an intern then, like Trinity, and the two of you became fast friends, much to Dennis’ chagrin. Dennis spent his entire disastrous first shift blushing whenever you looked at him, boiling when you started calling him Huckleberry too, and trying not to think too hard about how insanely out of his league you were.
You were strong willed, from the get go. You didn’t waste time stuttering like he did, you didn’t seem to care too much if people liked you, so long as they respected you. But Dennis did both, and he was pretty sure you had no idea.
You teased him, not quite as meanly as Trinity, but there was no way you didn’t notice the way the tip of his ears flamed each time. The way you talked to and about him made him sure you saw him as nothing more than Trinity’s annoying friend. When she sniped, you laughed along, snickering into her shoulder. When he made mistakes, you’d slap him on the back, and tell him he’d “get ’em next time, Huckleberry,” with a little smirk. The first time you’d done that, he’d let out an odd, involuntary little squeak that had Robby cocking his head.
But you had a soft side. And while you and Trinity were much like peas in a pod, you didn’t keep your softness as close to the chest like her. Trinity reserved it only for the quietest moments, the closest of friends. You, on the other hand, were confident enough in your emotional security and standing to provide people with a soft place to land, when you could tell they really needed it. And you were great at reading it.
It was calling Robby away to a quieter place away from everyone when he was about to snap. It was inviting Mel to a girl’s night when she seemed burnt out, and making friendship bracelets to give her something permanent and tangible to commemorate your friendship. It was getting the nurses coffee when patients were disrespectful. It was knocking your knee against Trinity’s and handing her a snack when she was behind on charting, or inviting yourself over after tough shifts when you knew she shouldn’t be alone.
The first time you helped Dennis, he nearly threw up his heart at the gesture.
It was just a week or two after PittFest, your first shift, when Amy’s husband died in the ICU. Everyone knew Whitaker had been holding out hope he would survive. It just didn’t seem right, didn’t seem fair. They had a good, pure, young love, one that didn’t happen to many people. And in an instant, it was gone. And Amy would birth her baby alone.
That night, he’d told Santos to just drive home without him. As he started his trek back to their apartment, breathing in the cool night air, he heard your voice.
“Hey, Huckleberry!” He whipped around. “Wait up!”
For perhaps the first time since meeting you, he didn’t immediately smile at the sight of your face. He gave a weak attempt, one that fell flat, but you didn’t seem bothered. Just fell into step beside him. He eyed you a little, unsure of your motives as you huffed and adjusted your bag.
“What’s up?” he asked.
You shrugged, glancing at him.
“Can’t I just want to walk with you?” you asked, a hint of your usual teasing hidden in a much more sincere voice. “I’m headed this way anyways.”
He didn’t fight you, even if he knew your apartment was in the opposite direction. You walked in silence for a while, letting the air be filled with distant sirens and the scraping of your sneakers against the pavement. Eventually, you broke it.
“Got any plans tonight?” you asked.
He gave an almost chuckle.
“Yeah, me and leftover takeout,” he muttered. “How about you?”
“Well, Trin promised me a ride home this morning,” you said, pretending to sound more annoyed than you were. “We were gonna have a movie night, but I got bumped by you know who.”
He did know who, unfortunately, all too well. He’d heard Garcia’s name screamed through the walls more times than he’d care to remember. He nodded.
“Why not just go home?” he asked. “Call an Uber.”
“Are you kidding? And miss this weather?” you asked, pulling some tangled earbuds out of your bag. “I love fall. October’s probably my favorite month. Didn’t you celebrate Halloween in Amish-land Arkansas?”
His lips actually twitched.
“Broken Bow, Nebraska,” he corrected gently. “And I’m not Amish.”
It was a nice night, he thought, taking it in truly for the first time. The air was crisp, but not biting, and the sky was crystal clear, and spattered with the few stars you could make out from the city. Red, orange, and brown leaves crunched under foot.
“Well, don’t worry,” you said, fiddling with your phone. “We’ll get you to a proper Halloween party this year.”
That made him nervous. He wasn’t a big drinker, a lightweight, Trinity said, and he wasn’t big on crowds, either. Especially in the dark, with free flowing alcohol lowering people’s inhibitions. But perhaps it was the idea of being close to you, in your little homemade “slutty Hannibal Lecter” costume, that made him so nervous. He’d overheard you talking about it with Trinity and Samira, like a creep. He didn’t know it would be “little”, exactly, but if it was anything like your Fantastic Mr. Fox costume from last year, that he’d seen when stalking your instagram, like a creep, he wasn’t far off in his imagination.
Before he could think of something to say, some excuse to lay the foundation for, you were handing him an earbud. He just looked at your hand, then up at your face. You quirked a brow.
“You put it in your ear, and music comes out of it,” you said slowly, hint of a smile on your mouth. “Sure you're not amish?”
He swallowed, and his lips twitched again. He took the earpiece, hesitantly, and was shocked to hear Stevie Wonder. You were watching his expression.
“Don’t be so surprised, you’re not the only one who has taste,” you said. “It’s not like I live under a rock.”
He’d smiled fully then, which seemed to be what you were aiming for. He’d gone to bed that night, still heavier, still sad, but with a nice memory to color his dreams. You had walked with him. You had shared your earbuds. You had been close enough for your elbow to brush his several times on the way home.
He’d always had a crush, but that was the night he realized he was really falling for you.
It took about two seconds for Trinity, and the rest of Allegheny General, to notice it. It took about two months for her to get him to admit it out loud.
He was just glad his brothers weren’t there the night he let everything loose. Ever since he was little, he’d had a tendency to fall at the feet of girls he could never get. Or else, in Trinity’s opinion, girls he could never bring himself to approach. Because although she’d be slow to admit it outloud, her little Huckleberry was a catch, in a lot of ways. He was sweet, genuine, and gentlemanly. Not that she’d ever looked for a boy herself, but from what she heard from her straight girlfriends, those types of men were hard to come by.
When she’d talked to you, tried to gauge interest, you’d said you “wouldn’t be opposed to it.” Which, in your language, meant you wanted to kiss him silly.
Now, almost a year after that night, she was officially at her wits end. She stared at Whitaker where he sat staring at you, head in hand, practically radiating lovesickness.
Pathetic.
You were all technically in the middle of hand off, bright and early. You’d always gotten along well with Jack, and everyone knew you were one of Robby’s favorite residents. You stood between them as they checked patients off the list, preparing day shift. Samira, Mel, McKay, and Langdon all stood clustered around the hub while Abbot’s team gathered their belongings.
Trinity watched in second hand embarrassment as Whitaker’s name was called, once, twice, thrice, before he snapped out of his trance. He straightened up to see all eyes on him, and instantly his pale skin flushed red. No one seemed surprised. On the contrary, they all appeared to have a bit of knowing tease in their expressions as he floundered. All except you, of course.
“What?” he asked stupidly.
Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re taking Mr. Gibson, in South 4,” he said tiredly. “And please, do try to listen during hand off. It’s your patient’s life or death.”
Whitaker flushed even darker, eyes flickering to you for only a fraction of a second, before focusing entirely on the tablet that was handed to him.
Robby shot Santos a look, who shrugged helplessly. You just gave Dennis a short smile, and headed off to your own mountain of work.
As everyone dispersed, waving goodbye to Abbot and the night shift, Trinity held Dennis back.
“I’m done,” she hissed, causing his brow to furrow.
“Done?”
“Done taking all your redirected yearning energy!” she said. “No more nights filled with, she looked at me today, oh, she wore a green sweater, can you believe it? She —”
He shushed her furiously, whipping his head around and scanning the area in panic.
“Would you keep it down?”
“Oh please, like everyone doesn’t already know,” she waved away.
“Everyone knows?” Whitaker asked weakly, sounding like a kicked puppy.
“I really don’t have time for this,” sighed Trinity, rubbing her temples. “You are asking her out. Today.”
All the pink drained quickly from Whitaker’s face, leaving him even paler than usual.
“I can’t do that, are you crazy?!”
“Why not?” she asked. “Look, you're not still the bumbling idiot she first met. You're an intern now, you got a haircut, you're doing great!”
He let out a humorless laugh, hand tugging at the haircut she’d convinced him to get by hinting it was your type.
“I’m still a bumbling idiot, around her, at least,” he said defeatedly.
“Yeah, but she likes you,” said Trinity.
Whitaker’s eyes lit up with something like tentative hope.
“Really? She said that?”
“Well, not — not in so many words,” said Trinity, and Whitaker’s face fell again. “But I can tell! You have to trust me.”
“Trust you,” he scoffed. “Like you’ve never steered me wrong.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’ve got to at least know,” she said. “Maybe she’ll say no, but what if she doesn’t? What if you both like each other, and you never say anything, and she moves on with someone else?”
His mouth opened as though to speak, but he just shook his head.
“I’m not exactly good at talking to girls,” he said.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He glared.
“So then help me, smartass.”
She clapped her hands together excitedly, before Dana barked at them to get to work.
Trinity found little breaks throughout the day to help Whitaker work out a strategy. Did it feel a little like high school? Yeah, but it was kind of sweet, too. One of his nails was nearly bitten off by the end of the day.
His head was swarming with pick up lines, and tips he knew he’d never remember.
Eye contact. Stand up straight. Smile. Be concise, don’t ramble. Cut straight to the point. Practice an understanding rejection face, just in case.
He ran through his “lines” in his mind as he watched you at your locker from behind the door of his own. He felt nauseous. He felt stupid. He knew Trinity would force him to do it, no matter the medical emergency he could fake. He could feel her watching him.
As he made his shaky way out through the ambulance bay, staying a careful ten feet behind you, he ran into Robby, who was of course staying late to finish up some last cases. He didn’t look at Whitaker, stayed focused on his cup of something hot, but spoke.
“You might want to be standing next to her for this,” he said quietly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You look like a stalker trailing behind her like that.”
Dennis couldn’t bring himself to string together a sentence before Robby was gone. He was caught up in the mortification of realizing his boss knew about his silly school boy crush, and he didn’t realize he was even still moving until he walked straight into you.
The two of you stumbled, and you looked around at him.
“I’m so sorry!” he said urgently, face already burning. “I — I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry. Really.”
You just smiled tiredly at him, swinging your bag back over your shoulder.
“You’re good, Huckleberry,” you said, starting your stroll again and letting him keep next to you.
His eyes never left you, wide and terrified, while his mouth opened and closed like a trout. You sent him a glance out of the corner of your eye.
“Everything okay?”
He pictured Trinity’s angry face, and forced himself to speak.
“Hey,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. You — are you… okay?”
You nodded slowly.
“Pretty okay,” you said. “Got some cramps. Nothing a bubble bath won’t fix.”
“Right,” he said weakly, swiping his sweaty hands on his pants. “Right. So…”
You were reaching the edge of the parking lot, where he knew you’d part ways.
“So,” you repeated.
He cleared his throat again.
“Are you doing — what do you have tomorrow? To do, I mean. Tomorrow.”
Smooth.
“Absolutely nothing,” you said blissfully. “I’m off work, so me, in bed, watching reality TV and ordering pizza. What about you?”
His heart was pounding painfully hard and fast in his chest. He was grateful for the dark, covering his flushed face.
“I’m off too,” he said, then he bit his tongue.
“Cool,” you said.
You were at the rusted railing now, that marked the end of hospital property, and did nothing to keep anything in or out. He could feel you preparing to turn right, nod goodnight and disappear, while he continued home to the left.
“Okay,” he said, resolute, stopping in his tracks and turning stoutly towards you.
You stopped too, confused. He swallowed. His mouth suddenly felt very dry.
“I — I was just wondering,” he said faintly. “I mean, I just — would you want to go out with me?”
He surprised even himself with how quickly it slipped out, eyes widening along with yours. There was a second you just stood together.
“Out?” you asked, slowly.
He gripped the strap of his backpack like a lifeline. If he wanted to back pedal, this was the time. Out as a group! Out to the movies, as friends! But he didn’t. He grit his teeth.
“Like,” his voice cracked and he coughed. “Like on a date.”
You still looked surprised. It wasn’t a great sign, he thought, if you couldn’t even comprehend the idea of him asking you on a date. Couldn’t comprehend the idea of him being that type of person for you. His gaze dropped to the ground.
“You’re asking me out?” you said, still moving slowly, like you were trying to process. “Huckleberry?”
Alright, so it was a bust. He tried to keep a brave face, as he plastered on the realest smile he could muster, wanting just to get home where he could nurse his broken heart in peace and solitude.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was just an idea. I don’t… expect anything, or anything. I just —”
“Tomorrow night?” you interrupted.
He blinked owlishly. He wasn’t sure how to receive the small smile sneaking onto your face.
“Tomorrow night?”
You nodded, a bit of mirth lining your pretty features.
“Because tomorrow night would be best for me,” you said. “Timing wise, I mean. Unless you want to wait a week.”
His jaw fell a bit. He was pretty sure you just said yes. He shifted his weight nervously.
“Yes, yeah, me too,” he said. “That’s — that’s what I was thinking.”
“Great,” you said sweetly, already taking steps backward. “We should try that new Greek place on Hancock. I’ll text you. Okay?”
He could only manage a small, spasming wave as you smiled and turned, earbuds fit in your ears. He watched you walk away, heart still beating like a drum, although the perceived “danger” was retreating. He might have stood there, frozen on the sidewalk, for hours, if Trinity didn’t come rushing up to him.
She barrelled into him, tugging his arm like a little kid. He just swayed, eyes still fixed on the spot you had turned out of sight.
“Well?” asked Trinity, impatiently. “What did she say?”
Dennis had to make a concerted effort to unstick his throat and form words.
“She said yes,” he said, hushed, like he still didn’t believe it.
Trinity let out an uncharacteristic squeal, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“I told you she liked you!” she said, giving him a hearty shake. “Seriously, Huckleberry, you’ve got to have more faith in yourself. But more importantly, you’ve got to have more faith in me.”
She started steering him back into the parking lot to her car. He shuffled alongside her.
“So, where are you going?”
“That new Greek place, uh — Bistro Elysium, I think it’s called.”
“Nice. What are you gonna wear?”
He stopped dead.
“Oh my god. What am I gonna wear?”
***
Whitaker kept Trinity up until 11 pm helping him pick an outfit. And simultaneously, curbing his pits of panic. Unlike him, she was working the next day, so she stayed half awake as he pulled out options. He didn’t have too many clothes, having spent the last few years completely broke, but Trinity knew some good thrifting spots.
Once she snapped, sick of his whining and second guessing, she pulled something from his closet herself, and stalked off to bed, grumbling. He was grateful all the same. A white t-shirt, some dark jeans, and a worn leather jacket. Simple. Easy.
He got into bed and tried to sleep, but his mind was buzzing. Would you like the outfit? What would you wear? He hoped you would wear the knit cardigan with the flower buttons, he loved seeing you in it. You always looked so happy, and so proud to answer “I made it myself!” whenever anyone asked where you’d gotten it. But he knew he’d be floored if you showed up to the restaurant wearing a paper bag.
He hadn’t had much Greek food, but he knew it was one of your favorites. He cursed himself for not getting it more. Then at least you’d have something to talk about should silence persist. He could impress you, ask you your favorites, tell you his in return.
The next day, he woke up to a text from you.
Goodmorning :D wanna meet there @6?
His stomach jolted. The entire history of text threads between the two of you were about plans surrounding Trinity’s birthday, work, or tiktoks. You also liked to send him movie and music recommendations, classifying him as “uncultured” when you found out he didn’t know who Orson Welles was. He’d of course done his research since then, and The Magnificent Ambersons was now one of his all time favorites.
He typed out a message with a thumbs up that seemed too forced, then one with a period that seemed too somber, before he landed on one.
Sounds good! See you then :)
Then he agonized over whether or not the smiley face was too much, though he couldn’t unsend it, because you had already seen it and responded with… a sticker he didn’t understand of a person he didn’t know. He just hearted it happily and went to make himself some breakfast.
As he ate eggs and microwaved hashbrowns, he poured over the restaurant’s menu, trying to memorize all the dishes he was pretty sure he heard you mention before. Trinity graciously agreed to late rent so he’d have the cash to get you whatever you wanted.
Of course he would need to pay for the date. It was the same christian farmboy part of him that added a light blue button up over his t-shirt as he got ready. He knew Trinity would roll her eyes, but he couldn’t help hearing his mother’s stern tone, tearing him a new one for taking a girl out in a shirt without a collar. He already wasn’t picking you up. He had tried to convince you, but you insisted walking was fine, since your apartment was “so close anyways.”
After spending the entire day rehearsing his order in his head, double checking his outfit from every possible angle, texting Trinity throughout his fluctuating anxiety levels, and practicing talking points in front of the mirror, he was shaking as he tied his shoelaces. The drive wasn’t far from the apartment, about ten or fifteen minutes, and he was unsurprised he beat you there.
“How many?” the hostess asked as he stepped inside.
“Two,” he said, suppressing a smile.
He checked his watch as he sat down at a table for two. It was only 5:45, and you’d agreed on 6:00. He’d been determined to get here before you, but now he regretted it. He wished he had brought a book, but would that have been rude? He could have looked at his phone, but he didn’t want to be scrolling when you walked in. He wanted to look engaged and excited. So he fiddled with the menu, pretending to read, though he’d had his order memorized for at least six hours.
He couldn’t help glancing at the door periodically, and by periodically, it was every two minutes. Every time someone came in, or even just walked past the door, he jolted a little, straightening. But he was always left disappointed. Around 6:28, someone with your same haircut passed by the window, and he sighed.
By 6:45, he was getting worried, and he was starting to get pitying looks from the staff. You weren’t often late, but it happened. Maybe your clocks were behind. Maybe you took a nap and slept through the alarm. Maybe there was a plumbing emergency, and you had to wait for the super. But surely, you would have texted.
He checked his phone. There was nothing. He sent off his own text, desperately hoping it came off as casually concerned, and not almost-out-of-my-mind anxious.
Hey, just checking in. Everything okay?
He stared at the little blue bubble for too long. Then the door chimed — he snapped his head up, only to be met with a sweet looking couple. He tried not to get sulky as he watched them sit across from one another, smiling, holding hands, and being happy. Good for them, he thought bitterly, picking at a grain in the wood table.
He sent another text. Then another.
At around 7, someone finally came over, to fill the empty water glass he was rotating. It was lucky the restaurant wasn’t busier, or he was sure they’d ask him to leave. But the nice-looking older woman whose nametag read “Lydia”, looked nothing but sorry for him.
“Waiting for someone, dearie?” she asked, in that too-sweet tone that clearly said poor thing.
He tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
“She’s on her way,” he said, not sure if he was trying to convince Lydia or himself. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
He hated the pitying smile she gave him. She patted his hand.
“Sure you don’t want to order anything?”
He started to say no, but hesitated. He checked his watch again: 7:07. You weren’t coming, but he might as well get some good food.
“Actually, can I order some things to go?”
He shot Trinity a quick text.
Still at work?
She responded quickly.
of course
who do u think i am someone with a work life balance?
He ordered a few pita wraps, souvlaki, some vegetarian moussaka, and some baklava. He almost forwent the spanakopita, your favorite according to Trinity, out of spite, but it felt stupid. He was mad, he thought, as he loaded the bags of food into the passenger seat. But more than anything, he was hurt.
Why? He would have understood if you had rejected his advance, but why say yes only to stand him up? The most invasive parts of his mind were convinced it was all a prank from the start. Maybe one of those little games you played. Maybe you were at your apartment right now, laughing at the idea of him sitting alone, stupid enough to actually think you’d go out with him.
The logical part of him knew that that was crazy. You could be a little mean, but you weren’t cruel like that. And even if you didn’t want to date him, he was your friend. You’d probably gotten cold feet. Said yes in the moment to make it less awkward, out of pity, but couldn’t bring yourself to go through with the date nor face him with rejection.
None of the options made him feel any better. The smell of the rich food next to him, though he’d barely eaten, was nauseating rather than enticing. He wanted to take an advil, get in bed, and forget the day ever happened.
As he pulled into the PTMC parking lot, he texted Trinity that he was outside, and to come get the food. He didn’t feel much like interacting with people, who might ask why he got the food, why he was dressed nice, what he was doing out. He wasn’t about to tell them what a loser he was. Trinity, he realized, had probably already told everyone about the date.
He rested his forehead on the steering wheel with a long suffering groan. He needed to go home. Where the hell was Trinity?
He texted her again.
Where are you???
Trin I really need to go home.
Please come outside.
I swear I will leave you here.
But he wouldn’t, and the food would start getting cold soon. So, against better judgement, he grabbed the bags and got out of the car.
He was going to kill Trinity in her sleep, he thought, as he walked through the side entrance and immediately caught the eye of three people he knew. He kept his gaze on the ground, maneuvering the turns on muscle memory until he reached the break room. He dumped the food on the table.
He tried to sneak back out the way he came, but he was spotted the second he stepped through the door.
“Whitaker!” Robby shouted.
He went over to the hub, reluctantly. Robby had his glasses perched on his nose, arms crossed, like a father about to give a lecture. Dennis chewed his thumb nail.
“I brought a bunch of Greek from that new place,” he said, averting his eyes. “It’s in the breakroom for whoever wants it.”
“You said Greek?”
Great, the night shift was here to share in the moment. Shen was rubbing his hands together.
“Break room,” said Robby.
Shen and Ellis turned right around and headed in that direction, throwing weak thanks at Dennis behind their shoulders.
“We appreciate that,” said Robby good naturedly. “Look, I’m sorry —”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Whitaker with a stiff smile, face pinkening quickly. He was humiliated enough as it was. “Do you know where Santos is?”
Robby raised a brow.
“South 4.”
Without another word, Dennis marched on, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact.
“You’d better have a good reason for ignoring me,” he said with an edge as he opened the door. “Because I’ve been sitting —”
He ripped the curtain back, but cut himself off when he saw the scene.
Trinity, Mel, and Jack were standing around the bed, and in the bed, was you.
His heart dropped down to his stomach as he took in the monitors and tubes connected to you under a gown. You were on an IV, heart rate elevated, fever, and looking a little green around the gills. You opened your eyes sleepily as he entered, and a weak smile pulled at your lips.
“Denny,” you said, stretching his name out long like you were happy to see him. “You’re here.”
His cheeks flamed instantly, an initial reaction of embarrassment. You’d never called him Denny before. You’d barely called him Dennis. No one called him Denny.
His second feeling, that hit him like a wave, was guilty relief. You hadn’t stood him up, at least, not on purpose. You’d been stuck in a hospital bed, apparently sick as a dog. You hadn’t forgotten him, or ignored him.
What anger he’d built up at you quickly dissolved into worry. He looked to Trinity for an explanation.
“Appendicitis,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry about date night, Denny. She didn’t text you?”
He just shook his head and took a seat by your bedside. He opened his mouth to say something to you, ask if you were alright, but you booped his nose and sent him melting again.
“You’re cute,” you giggled. “Like — like a ghost. A British ghost.”
“She’s also on some painkillers while we wait for surgery to open up,” Jack supplied with an amused lilt.
It made sense, Whitaker thought, as you played happily with his hands, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from flaming from a familiar fluster. Even laid up, you were the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. And any smile like the one you wore now could only prove to brighten your face more, no matter how gray you looked.
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” said Mel.
She practically had to drag Trinity from the room.
“Keep it PG in here!” she called with a smirk.
Jack chuckled, looking reluctant to leave himself, but pulled the curtain closed as he left the room. With them gone and the glass door shut, it felt weirdly quiet. And Whitaker was suddenly rather nervous to be alone with you.
You, on the other hand, seemed too content, threading your fingers through his. He wasn’t about to stop you. Your hands were soft, and he loved the heat of them close to his. It was then he realized just how long it’d been since he’d even held hands with someone.
“You gave me a good scare there,” he said softly, eyes trained on your expression.
Yours moved slowly up to his and blinked lazily. Your smile was widening.
“What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.
“I just didn’t know where you were,” he said. “You never showed up, and you never texted.”
In an instant, your pretty smile fell into a frown. He immediately regretted saying anything, he should have waited until you were out of surgery, and out of pain meds. He tightened his hold on your hand and tried to smile. You were still frowning.
“Oh, no,” you said. “I didn’t think of it. I didn’t — were you all alone? Did I leave you all alone?”
“Not all alone!” he said quickly, leaning forward. “There — um… there was a waitress!”
You started blinking faster, and your lip started trembling.
“No, no, no!” he said desperately, scooting his chair ever closer. “Don’t cry, don’t cry! It wasn’t for that long, and — and we’re together now, right?”
You sniffled, tears welling but not falling. You looked thoughtful.
“Right,” you said eventually, and his smile turned true. “That’s right. This is the date then.”
He glanced around the sterile white room, needles in your arm, and though he couldn’t see it, he was sure a group of coworkers were outside your door talking about you, and he grimaced.
“Or,” he said, being careful not to upset you any more, “we could just hang out tonight, and when you get better, we can try going to a restaurant again. How’s that?”
Your tears were now forgotten, but you huffed. You seemed to be cycling through stages of grief.
“I can’t believe this,” you said with a childish pout. “All the shitty dates I’ve been on in my life, and for a guy I actually like, I get appendicitis. Now?”
He couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at that.
“A guy you like, huh?” he said shyly.
“Duh,” you said. “I’ve never agreed to go out with a coworker before, you know. You’re just — too fucking cute!”
His whole body felt flooded with heat.
“Well,” he said, somewhat squeakily, “you’re pretty fucking cute yourself.”
You let go of his hands and pulled the sheet over your face. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d never seen you like this, and he doubted he’d ever see it again. Embarrassed, and smiley, and open. He was sure you’d regret it later, but he was enjoying it greatly. Not only did you not stand him up, you liked him.
He felt like a teenager, butterflies taking over his stomach. He reached over and gently pulled the sheet from your face, only for you to immediately throw both arms over it. He could see a small smile underneath, though.
The door pushed open suddenly, letting the bustling noise of the ER in briefly. The curtain was whipped back to reveal Garcia. When she saw Whitaker sitting so close, hands resting on your bed, and you, flustered and hiding, she raised a brow.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said smugly.
Dennis moved his hands back to his lap as you peaked out from under your arms.
“Yoyo!” you said happily, dropping them completely. “Did Trin send you in here to find out if Denny had kissed me yet? Because he’s still holding out on me.”
Garcia grinned devilishly at Whitaker, who spluttered.
“Denny?” she asked, moving over to check your stats on the monitor. “No, unfortunately. I’m here to send you up to surgery.”
“Are you doing it?” you asked, eyes going wide. “You’re so smart, Yoyo. I hope it's you.”
“You’re in luck,” she said, smiling with a touch of fondness as she looked down at you and unlocked your bed wheels. “Move over, Huckleberry.”
“Yeah, Huckleberry,” you giggled, with none of Garcia’s snap.
He jumped quickly aside to let Garcia wheel you through the door. He trailed behind as you rolled out towards the hub. As soon as he was out of your sight, you whined.
“Where’s Dennis?”
He jogged quickly ahead to walk at your side, and you calmed instantly, holding out your hand. He took it, careful not to upset the pulse ox.
“Well isn’t this sweet?” said Dana as they passed by the hub. “You’re keeping her company.”
She was standing with an impressive group, composed of Mel, Samira, Trinity, Abbot, Robby, Shen, Princess, and Perlah.
“Isn’t your shift over?” he said awkwardly, eyes darting anywhere but at them.
“Isn’t this supposed to be your day off?” said Abbot teasingly
Trinity raised her phone and snapped a photo.
“Hey, what about — what about HIPAA, or something!”
“I didn’t see anything,” said Robby.
“Goodbye!” Whitaker grumbled as they reached the elevator.
“Yeah, you go wait hand and foot, like a good boyfriend!” said Trinity as the doors closed.
He flipped her off.
Still, he was there by your bed side almost two hours later when you came to, and helped you shuffle back and forth from the bathroom. Unfortunately, not long after that, the nurses could no longer ignore that visiting hours were long over, and they kicked him out.
You were barely awake at that point, but your grip proved to be very strong still, as you clinged to his hand.
“Why do you have to go?” you whined.
“They’re making me,” he said. “I’ll come back and visit you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” you sighed, like it was a great emotional charge.
You let go, but he hovered by your bed for a second. Cheeks already heating for the millionth time that night, he leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the forehead. You practically preened, smiling wide, eyes closed.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, lingering by the door.
“Night,” you muttered, before falling into sleep. He stayed for just a second, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, before leaving.
Despite everything, it was one of the best dates he’d ever been on.
The next morning, just as he was parking his car in the lot, his phone pinged with a text from you.
I STOOD YOU UP OMFG
He just chuckled, preparing to type back, when another text came in.
Promise I’ll make it up to you ;)
His face glowed red and he choked on his coffee. He was in for quite the ride.
may i request dennis whitaker x abbot’s daughter!reader? ♡
abbott comes in early for night shift bc robby called but also to see “what’s the deal” w the boy that captured his daughter’s heart. obvi he is overly protective n has a soft spot for his only daughter but begrudgingly has to accept his two worlds (family + medicine) to collide
you can deicide if reader works at ptmc or not!!
thank you so much for all that u do!! since the pitt is over i hve been coping w x reader fics. . . u have fed me well 🙂↕️🙂↕️
your daughter calls me daddy too | dennis whitaker x fem!abbot!reader
like, reblog & comment! requests are open; refer to the pinned post
Summary: Dennis Whitaker meets his in-law with minor casualties on his side.
pairing: dennis whitaker x fem!abbot!reader
quick note: i got some requests for Trinity and John Carter and I couldn't be happier but if I got to those immediately, I would not be fair to the people that requested before them, so that's why I wanted to do this one for Dennis before I tackle next week's Trinity one :)
disclaimer: the title is a joke because i know Jack would murder Dennis if he ever said or implied that to him lmao
Wednesday morning is unraveling so slowly that it has you trying to stifle yet another yawn as you index the books in the shelf before your eyes. This bookstore job is just a way to keep yourself entertained and as a means of earning money while you do your master's program. Money is not exactly a problem with your dad being the night chief attending of the PTMC, and he had been reluctant when you had first suggested it to him. However, he had relented pretty fast; whether he wanted to recognize it or not, you were the soft spot in his old, battered heart.
The phone in your pocket buzzes with an incoming message, and you sigh, before looking left and right. It would be bad if you got scolded for being on your phone while working. Your colleague would not mind at all, and your boss was not in the bookstore today, but you didn't want to push your luck with the woman's almost supernatural way of appearing when one expected it least. Turning the screen on, you furrow your eyebrows at the handle name.
12:25 trin trin✦ isn't it your dad's day off?
12:25 you yeah why?
12:26 trin trin✦ pretty sure i just saw him talking w/ robby
12:26 you wtf do u know why
12:27 trin trin✦ wait let me ask perlah brb
Okay, so that's not good. Why the hell is your father working at the hospital in his supposed day off? Perhaps he got called in for a mass casualty similar to the Pittfest incident last year. God, that was a nightmare. However, it doesn't seem like that's the case. Trinity would not have asked you if that was the case, the ED needing every hand available. So then, what could be the reason? You pace through the small corridor back and forth so many times that it draws the concerned gaze of your colleague toward you. A quick smile from you is enough for her to pull her attention back to her phone, playing a video. It is really that slow of a day. A sudden ping has you scrambling for your phone.
12:32 trin trin✦ smth ab wanting to meet a guy?
12:32 you shit it's den
12:32 you KEEP THEM SEPARATED I'M GOING THERE
Now, that's the worst possibility. Again, your dad has a very protective streak with you, all coming with the territory of being a single parent. That used to mean absolutely no boys, whether romantic or platonic. Jack Abbot has seen too much shit in his life to trust in a guy only 'wanting' to be your friend. The situation quickly got exhausting which prompted you to draw back from your father a bit, if only in terms of your social life.
Therefore, when you met Dennis Whitaker during a karaoke party with your best friend Trinity at your usual bar, and immediately hit it off, you decided to keep it all under wraps. If not for the peace of your mind, then for the physical safety of Dennis. Fat lot of good that is now.
You rush to grab your things, and march toward your car with the blessing of your colleague, who is more than happy with closing shop. Still, you own her a favour for not telling on you to your boss.
The car drive is spent with the radio blaring some news about some traffic jam downtown, but thankfully it doesn't affect your route to the PTMC. After ten minutes that feel like an hour, you pull your car into an empty parking spot.
The ER is just as noisy as always, but you have become accustomed to its rhythms and are aware that today is a slow day here too, probably like everywhere in Pittsburgh. Walking toward the central hub, you almost bump into Dana, who smiles at you as she signals with a finger for you to wait for her to finish this one phone call.
"What are you doing here, sweetheart?" She finally says after she hangs up. "We didn't expect you today."
"I heard my dad is here?" You ask apprehensively.
"Abbot? He is. You bringing him anything he forgot? I can call him if you want."
You shake your head with panic. "No, please! Could you just tell me where Dennis is?"
"Whitaker?" Now Dana is suspicious. "Last time I saw him, he was working on a drowning victim in Trauma 1. Are you sure everything is okay?"
You sigh in defeat. "No. It's a situation of 'dad vs. boyfriend' I'd rather not see the result of."
"Oh, honey." Dana says with a smile on her face. "I'm sure it won't come to that. Your father loves you very much and Whitaker is a good boy." The next thing she says in a lower voice. "And if he gives you any trouble, you come to me."
You snort. "My dad or Dennis?"
"Both, of course."
The conversation is interrupted by yet another phone call to Dana, who points you toward the supposed direction your boyfriend is in. You make your way through the corridors, mindful of not bothering anyone doing their job. When you arrive at Trauma 1, Dennis is nowhere to be seen, but Trinity's face brightens as she spots you and makes a beeline in your direction.
"Thank God you're here." She says, hugging you. "I was being tortured with the most boring conversation ever."
"Medical student?" You smirk as the two of you walk down the hallway. When she nods, you snort. "You gotta be more patient with them, they're here to learn."
"Yeah, yeah. You don't know this guy. He's so fucking annoying. Super disrespectful with patients too." Trinity sighs. "I don't know what's wrong with students lately."
"I thought Joy was cool?"
"Joy is fucking cool. She is an exception; higher echelon, you know?"
You nod, amused with her antics. A mass of silver curls in the periphery of your vision has you freezing on the spot, any cheeriness leeched from your body. Remembering the original motive of your visit to the ER, you turn to Trinity.
"You did what I told you?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, managed to sneak Huckleberry in the break room. Figured your dad would be allergic to it."
"Hah hah. Very funny. He also needs sustenance."
"Could have fooled me." Trinity shrugs her shoulders. "Why do you ask?"
You don't answer immediately, body pulled up on your tiptoes trying to see the direction in which what you now know is definitely your dad, is going in. From this position, you can see the break room's door, and you pray he's going to the bathroom right next to it. No such luck. You yank on Trinity's hand as your dad walks through the doorway of the break room.
"Shit!" A sharp glance of a nearby nurse has you mollified but the panic is still obvious in your voice as you lower your voice to tell Trinity that her hiding spot has been breached.
"Relax, I've trained Huckleberry well. A good hiding place is one that changes all the time. What are the chances he's still in there?"
You look at her with an unimpressed glance, and she gulps nervously, before nodding and power walking to the slightly ajar door.
Entering the break room, you don't know what to expect, but it's definitely not your dad crowding on your boyfriend, who is sitting and not daring to make a noise or pull his eyes from the older man's. If one were to narrow their eyes, they might see a wolf cornering a small squirrel.
Before any debacle might happen, you rush to wedge yourself in between them.
"Dad, what are you doing?"
Jack Abbot is not a tall man. God knows your uncle Robby has at least four inches on him. But what he doesn't have in height, he more than makes up for it with his bulk. A veteran with a prosthetic leg, he should be terrifying, but he is your dad, so you know when he is bluffing.
Right now, it's not one of those times. He looks ready to rip Dennis apart bit by bit. However, when he turns toward you, both his eyes and countenance relax in a very noticeable manner.
"Hey, baby, what are you doing here?" He smiles as he hugs you.
"Trying for you to not kill my boyfriend." You suppose that now that the cat is out of the bag, there's no reason to keep hiding it.
Jack scoffs. "We were just having a civilized conversation."
"Uh-huh." You nod disbelieving, positioning yourself behind Dennis, who looks awfully relieved you're here now to defuse the situation. Your hands make their way around his neck, your chin is supported by his curly head, and he melts. You notice your dad's jaw tick in what you know is annoyance. Trinity is nowhere to be seen. Smart girl. "Does a civilized conversation involve you threatening him?"
"Just so he knows where he stands." Your dad is unapologetic about his rather childish behaviour. He puts his hands in his pockets and sighs. "Couldn't you have gotten someone that doesn't work at the same place as me?"
"You don't even work the same shift!" You protest. "Besides, who I date stopped being your business like... seven years ago."
"It is my business when it concerns my family." He furrows his eyebrows and looks in Dennis's direction. "What?"
Looking down, you notice that your boyfriend, bless his heart, has risen his hand, as if asking for permission to talk in a classroom. You nod to him, in encouragement.
"I know you might not be happy with our relationship, sir," Jack and you raise your eyebrows at the word choice. "But I can promise you I will protect and take care of her, just as much as she already does for me." Dennis swallows and lowers his gaze for a second before looking at you. "I-I love her more than myself, sir."
There is a burning behind your eyes that you know it to be the beginning of unshed tears. Such honesty was truly unexpected and you smile before moving your head from its position on top of his to his shoulder where you maneuver to kiss his cheek.
In front of you, Jack is assaulted by two pair of eyes looking straight at him, one pair belonging to his daughter's, famous for her infallible puppy eyes, at least only with him. He sighs and slumps slightly forward.
"You better keep your word." He points at Dennis. "Tell my daughter when your next day off is. Dinner is at eight."
Both Dennis and you let out a breath of relief, and you stand up from your crouched position to walk over to your dad and hug him. He returns it begrudgingly but you notice the strength behind his pulling you in toward himself.
Pulling away from the hug, you furrow your eyebrows. "By the way, who told you I had a boyfriend in the first place?"
He smirks. "Your uncle got a bit too loose-lipped last night after the shift with the beers."
Oh, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch is in for it now.
On the other side of the ER, Robby suddenly sneezes while checking on his trusty tablet.
Dennis Whitaker x Actress!Reader, The Pitt x Reader
Find My Pitt Masterlist here
Thank you to @c-est-comme-ca for the request! hope you enjoy 💐
Dennis has always been unassuming to his colleagues. Quiet and diligent with his work. And with a girlfriend that no one's ever met or seen before. His colleagues are left wondering who it might be.
Turns out you are not what they had in mind...You, who is an incredibly famous actress that most would fight for a chance to be with.
Too bad for everyone else, because your heart is taken by the sweet doctor you once met in the little town of Broken Bow.
Warnings: little bit of strong language, just two people falling in love. Meddlesome Pitt. Tooth rotting aching fluff! 💕 Dennis being a cutie-pie
Word Count: ~5.1k
As the city begins to wake.
The ER spurs on. Constant. Never resting.
The night shift crew creeps away as the day shifters fall into step.
It was for once.
On that very rare occasion.
A quiet morning.
Allowing time to savour the coffee instead of scalding the backs of their throats. No need to run around. Simply conserving their energy as they waded through the patients.
Time enough that Princess’ eyes drifted to the TV as Good Morning America filters on screen. Her attention is caught by the current segment.
The sight of you walking out taking a seat on the couch, clothes bespoke and tailored to perfection. Little lace detailing and white tulle, as pearl earrings cling to your ears.
All alluding to your current film set to be released.
The Drama.
By your side sits Robert Pattinson as you’re across from the two hosts.
Smiles wide and relaxed as you answer their questions.
Talking about the film and what audiences can expect. The romantic comedy themes while it delves into something a bit more intricate and darker than one might expect.
All leading to the little intricate details of your own outfits as part of the press tour. Making Princess swoon at the dresses.
“And why’re you so happy this morning?” Perlah asks as she stops by her side, eyes flicking to glance at what had captured her friend's attention. “Really, a morning show?”
Princess says your name, as though it were the only explanation necessary for her delighted state.
“C’mon Perlah, surely you’ve heard of her,” Donnie interjects, “My wife has been raving on about this movie because of her.”
“Isn’t it just a rom com about a wedding?” Perlah raises a brow.
Princess lightly slaps her arm, “It is going to be so much more than that. Not only is it a rom com but it is a rom com staring Robert Pattinson and Y/N L/N. She always adds so much depth to the characters she portrays.”
As others catch wind of the conversation a small group begins to form as they watch.
Her eyes drift back on screen.
“And so with the way you two have been acting you have fans in a frenzy over whether you two are secretly together?”
“The wedding themes certainly do nothing to quell the rumours, do they?” Robert quips, sending you a knowing glance. This was definitely not the first time you had to field this question. But each time you hoped it would be the last.
Sitting a bit straighter. “Look, Robert is a great guy I’ll give you that. But he already has an amazingly stunning and wonderful partner, Suki. Who I adore, and if anything I’d be trying to get with her,” you replied.
“Fair. So this isn’t your typical showmance. Perhaps you can tell us whether anyone else might have wedding bells ringing in your ears?” they continue to probe.
You internalise the sigh and roll of your eyes that you want to let out. As a graceful smile slips onto your face instead.
“Fans noticed on your recent couch session with Graham Norton that you seemed pretty cosy with the up and coming singer, Sombr. Any thoughts about that?”
You can practically feel Robert stifling a laugh beside you.
At some point the hounding questions into your dating life had become a running joke between you two. Feeling certain that he had made a bingo chart of all the possible people that talk show hosts and journalists might theorise you to be dating.
They roll a clip of the very show they were referencing.
With you wedged between guests on the iconic red couch. Supposedly very cosy beside the music guest, Sombr. As you all chat and smile, making your own little anecdotes. Laughing at Graham’s jokes. Adding your own praises for the talented artist, confessing that you at the time were listening to Dime on repeat.
The hosts send you a pointed look with grins upon their faces as though they had struck gold, “Perhaps you’d like to talk about this?”
“He is a talented singer and I enjoy his music. But I want to make it clear that I’m really not interested in dating at the moment. So you won’t be finding me on the dating scene anytime soon,” you reply, ending with a light laugh and shake of your head.
Could no one think to ask you of anything other than your love life? It was slowly becoming a drain on your energy.
….If only they knew.
That your heart was taken. Kept by the gentle, nurturing hands of a certain young man you had met years ago, in a little town called Broken Bow….
Dana looks at the screen, trying to get a gauge on what has her nurses so distracted, “Why are they asking her all these questions about her love life. Shouldn’t they just be asking her about the movie?” she asked with a deadpanned look.
“We just want to know that she’s being loved! She’s such a lovely person. If she’s not in love then there’s no hope for any of us,” Javadi explains with a slight dramatic edge to her words, while Princess nods in agreement.
“Oh she’s definitely on my hall pass list,” Santos nods.
Whitaker brows furrow at her words, “Hall pass list?”
Santos clicks her tongue. “You know a list of celebrities that you’d sleep with if given the chance, even if you’re in a relationship. I know your dating life is dry huckleberry, but surely you’ve heard of the list?”
He lets out a sigh with a small roll of his eyes.
“I told you, I have a girlfriend. We’re just doing long distance at the moment,” he said vaguely.
Santos folded her arms, “and I told you, I think you only use that as an excuse to dodge going out”
By all accounts his dating life was dry.
Throughout the months that he’d been living with her. Santos had not once seen him go out on a date.
At least none that she knew of.
To the point where everyone in the ER was fairly certain that the farmboy was most definitely single.
Even if he claimed to have a girlfriend. For all they knew it was simply a ruse to keep people off his back.
But there was little proof to show he was in a relationship.
…Little did anyone know.
That the very woman they were just fawning over.
Was the woman that held his heart in her hands.
His very own sweetheart.
A secret to the world. But simply each other’s peace and comfort. With nothing to prove.
“Why are we all standing here? We’ve got patients to see, people to check,” Robby clapped his hands, ushering everyone to move.
Snapping Whitaker out of his daze.
Away from his thoughts that drifted to you, and the memory of your hand intertwined within his.
Of the days when you had both first met almost 4 years ago.
Of that Summer where the sprawling fields seemed to glow a bit brighter.
Where the leaves felt more lush and the sky appeared more blue, as the air was laden thick with a sweetness.
How as the sun dipped down in the sky it felt like the cicadas were singing in tune with his heart. Lying in the fields side by side as you gazed up at the stars. As you confessed the dreams tightly knitted within your souls.
Words of hope filtering between you both.
He was there by chance.
Having returned home for part of the Summer break. As his nieces and nephews clung to him. Whilst he helped his family on the farm. Falling back into a rhythm, one he had come to miss while away studying.
But there was a distance.
Silences that stretched too long.
A gap that just never seemed to bridge between him and his family.
Always feeling a little misplaced among them.
As though peering from the outside in, made to feel different from.
He supposed that as the first to go to college. Let alone the first to study to become a doctor in his family. That the strain between him and his brothers would only worsen with each time he left to study.
With his parents left to feel unsure about his endeavours. Having never known this pathway before.
But Dennis’ ambitions didn’t waver.
Or at least he never showed his hesitations to his family.
Despite feeling out of place, he loved them.
And then he met you.
And he realised how much brighter the world could be. How much deeper his love could go. How much acceptance a person could feel.
Within your embrace you had given him a feeling of home he had never quite felt before. A sense of belonging washing over him as he stood by your side.
And it all began when his nieces and nephews had insisted on taking him to the movie set filming not far from the town of Broken Bow.
How they just had to see it. Eyes gleaming with curiosity.
It was very rare that a film crew would make its way to the rural town.
So rare that it had become a sort of spectacle amongst the town.
Some with intrigue and others simply waiting for the ‘city folk’ to leave them in peace.
From what Dennis had gathered it was a relatively small film. Not quite a superhero blockbuster. No starlets from vogue or actors from the covers of people’s choice.
He truly wasn’t sure what the movie was about.
Just that it was using the sprawling fields of Broken Bow, and the water ways up north as the backdrop.
And that it had made the younger kids of the town flock towards it just to catch a glimpse of the sets.
It was on this little trip, that he had bumped into you.
You were sneaking his nieces and nephews some snacks from the cast trailer, you smiled and answered their endless questions. Crouching to reach their height, nodding at their enthusiasm.
While Dennis trailed after them ready to apologise for their energetic behaviour.
Only for his words to be caught in his throat at the sight of you.
You had this presence.
Unpretentious.
Patient.
Charming.
It had bewitched him entirely.
And it seemed you had noticed. Giggling softly as you stood before him. Waving a hand in front of his eyes pulling him out of his trance.
Sticking a hand out you introduced yourself, as he shook your hand softly, but with an eagerness he couldn’t conceal.
You flashed him a smile. Bright and kindly.
Refreshed by his honest nature.
So unlike the people you met daily back in New York.
So unlike the guys that had looked upon you as though you were only there as decoration. Those men that had leered at you, never knowing when to take no as an answer. Or simply too self centred to even listen to a single word you said.
His willingness to listen, his attentive nature and humbleness made you drift towards his company.
That first meeting eventually spurred on into him showing you around town. Finding time to spend it with you. Days exploring what Broken Bow had to offer. From early morning sunrises, to sitting side by side watching as the Summer sun set in the sky, burnt oranges illuminating the fields.
You had savoured every moment together.
Together you found a balance.
In a world where all anyone had ever done was speak over you both. As they questioned your dreams, hopes and ambitions. You two had created a space for one another.
A space that allowed you both to breathe.
You made him feel as though he could come out of his shell, to peel back the layers of himself as he revealed his innermost thoughts.
The doubts he had never once voiced before.
How he loved what he was working towards. And how that didn’t stop the fears which settled alongside his ambitions.
All while you held his hand.
Steady and true. With an open ear and open heart.
You had made him feel wanted.
And he had made you feel safe.
Seen.
Desired.
From the moment he kissed you.
Under the expansive twinkling lights of the stars, on a balmy evening where the cicadas rang out. While your fingers entangled with the soft curls of his hair, as he pulled you softly against himself, arms wrapped around you.
In this town where very little happened.
With less than 4000 people.
You had found a person, a beautiful young man, who had made your heart feel full. Who had you seeing stars as he kissed you sweetly.
Then all too soon, the Summer was coming to an end.
Your movie had started to wrap up, and Dennis was due to return to college.
All too soon your world was starting to feel like it was crashing down on you. Not wanting this to end. Not wanting this romance to be a fleeting moment in your life. A passing memory.
So you had intertwined your pinky finger with his, however childish or naive it was, you had made him promise to keep in touch.
To make this last.
In response he placed a soft gentle kiss upon your intertwined fingers. Before pulling you into his arms as he hugged you tightly.
“Promise that when you become some superstar doctor you won’t leave me behind,” you had whispered softly.
As he murmured in response, with just as much conviction, “I would never. I could never leave you behind. I love you.”
Pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek with a grin, eyes full of love, “If anything, you’re going to be the superstar, with the world at your fingertips”
“Maybe someday…” you smile softly, in admiration of his belief in you.
Sighing in his arms. “I love you. And I’ll always be happy with you, kind, sweet, you.”
You make the long distance work.
With you in New York, while Dennis continued his studies. You persisted in your relationship.
Through rough patches and rocky roads. You always came through for each other.
From late nights spent talking endlessly on the phone. To being just a simple presence on the other side of the call, as you went over lines and he poured over his medical notes.
With weekend trips interspersed throughout, whether that was you visiting him or him visiting you in the city.
Savouring each second within his grasp.
He is there for all your big milestones. Supporting you every step of the way.
Words of encouragement drip from him like an endless fountain, even as your belief wavers. He never fails to make you believe in yourself.
And when that movie you had filmed all those months ago in Broken Bow finally gets released.
It became a hit.
As doors that were once closed now fly open for you. Stepping into spaces you had once dreamed about. Had once told Dennis all about.
You become a rising star.
He makes note of each big moment in your career. Filing them away for you to one day reminisce over. From magazine clippings, to interviews documented in the papers, to snapshots of you on talk shows, and photos from your press tours.
He is proud of each and every development in your career.
Just as proud as you are of him. Unwavering in your support of his work. You are the loudest to cheer as he graduates. With the widest smile spread across your face as he beams back at you.
You both felt extremely lucky to have each other by your sides. Cheering each other on.
You exchange letters. As he sends you love notes and pressed flowers. And you send him thoughtful gifts, new pens, stationary and books as he studies diligently.
You once asked him why he sent you love notes. Rather than simple texts or messages.
Without even missing a beat he had told you it felt more intimate. It felt special. Knowing that somewhere, hours away from him, in a different city, you would be there holding his words in your hands.
The very proof of his love for you.
Beating strong. Despite the distance.
Soon your fame grows more and more.
To the point where you have to be a little more conscious of what you say. Of where you go. Of how you’re seen.
As people grasped onto anything they could. Pulling theories out of thin air. Making edits of you alongside whoever else they deemed you should date. From costars to even passing figures in your life.
There was a huge focus on your personal life from your fans, to speculative journalists. All narrowing in on your love life.
The last thing you had wanted to do was put Dennis in an uncomfortable position.
In a position where he would be flooded with attention and pressure he shouldn’t be under, just because of your career. You wanted to preserve his privacy.
And selfishly you wanted to keep him to yourself.
A little slice of paradise all for yourself to enjoy and bask in. He had loved you long before you were famous. Loving you deeply, to the point where it felt there was no end to his love.
And he knew you loved him just as fiercely.
Never feeling unsure in his position in your heart. Knowing that at the end of every day he was yours, just as you were his to care for.
As he kept you to himself, a little secret that didn’t need to be shouted out to the world. Not needing approval or attention. All he wanted, no, needed was you.
“Hey love,” your words carried over the phone. Lying awake in bed as you stared up at the ceiling, the phone settled on your pillow as it was on loudspeaker.
Dennis’ soft voice echoes around your room, laced with a tiredness, “Hi sweetheart, what’re you up to?”
“Nothing much, just wanted to hear your voice”
A smile spreads across his face at your words, while you hear a faint typing come through the phone, “Are you studying?”
“Yeah, just writing up some notes from the day. Things I want to remember from next time”
“Don’t let me keep you then–”
“-No. No. It’s ok, I missed your voice too,” he cut you off, almost panicked that you would hang up. Following up quietly, “Tell me about your day, how did filming go today?”
And so you rambled on, in the peaceful hours of the evening. As he talks about his own day and all he’d done. Until soon you fall asleep from the sound of his voice. Soothed by him.
With every word of affection you had spilled to him.
From even the most mundane of things. He felt loved by you.
You had pulled him out of the shadows of his comfort zone and made him believe in himself, to become bolder. Confidence growing within him.
If only just to match your energy at times.
With more and more people chasing after you to star in their next film, their next show, project, or even stage play.
You gained more autonomy over your career. No longer having to say yes to everything. Now more able to be selective with your choices.
And with that flexibility you had also warranted yourself some time to visit Dennis, all the way in Pittsburgh.
Coming off the tail end of your press tour, having flown all across the country. Even going to London for further events, all in order to promote your film. Brushing shoulders with the stars of Hollywood, as cameras flashed in your face. Figure drenched in finely tailored looks, purposeful and pristine, all to convey the story of your film.
You were more than ready to have a little break.
To simply hold Dennis in your arms once more. Having craved him from the moment you let go of him last.
Too impatient to wait.
You leave the airport to travel straight to PTMC. Not wanting to wait a moment longer.
No longer decked in designer clothes.
Just dressed casually, with an effortless grace.
You make your way through the crowded waiting room, while everyone focuses on themselves. Unaware of who you are. Doing your very best to keep it that way.
You come up to the window, you spoke softly with a kindness in your eyes, “Hi, I’m here to visit Dennis Whitaker”
The woman nodded, “Is he expecting you?”
“No, I’m just an old friend stopping by to say hi,” you explained a little vaguely. Hands twisting a little from nerves.
“Oh, I can take her, Lupe,” A woman spoke up from behind as Lupe nodded in agreement.
Smiling, as you get brought through the doors, met by the woman from before.
“I’m Cassie,” she greeted you.
“N/N,” you stated your nickname. You didn’t need to make it too easy to recognise you.
“So you’re an old friend of Whitaker’s?” she asked. Observing you, you seemed familiar.
Like a face she couldn’t quite place. Despite the normality of your clothing or your casualness. There was a touch of something more than emanated from you.
“Yeah, I’m actually his girlfriend.” You confessed.
Her eyes widen a fraction, “So you are real”
Furrowing your brows at her words, “You didn’t think I was?”
“We hadn’t seen a photo of you before, so a few of us weren’t sure what to think of it,” she shrugged. “Not that I was one of them, but a few of the others mentioned it”
“Well I am definitely real,” you smiled. Understanding the assumption.
And then you stop in place, eyes locking onto the very man that made your heart skip a beat. Watching as he walks away from a patient’s bedside, as he looks up.
Eyes meeting yours from across the room.
And the biggest smile splits across his face. Tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you. As though the very presence of you had revitalised him.
Pace quickening, almost tripping over his own feet, hands tugging off the latex gloves tossing them away, as you walk just as briskly to meet him in the middle.
All thoughts fading from your mind. Simply just wanting to feel his touch.
Barely inches from each other, eyes locked, cheeks hurting from the way your lips are pulled into a wide smile. Genuine as it does nothing to hide your glee.
“Hi love,” your hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb gently caressing his cheek.
Leaning into your hold, he closes his eyes at the touch of your hand. “Hey sweetheart”
Biting your lip as you admire him now, how his scrubs fitted him. Hair tussled from the day, curling slightly at the edges. Honey brown strands that you reach for. Soft as you pull him towards you.
Lips catching his, feeling the plushness of his lips, the slight chapped texture as it melds against yours.
You hum in contentment. Before pulling away to simply tuck your head against his shoulder.
“I missed you,” you whispered.
Pressing a soft kiss to your head he smiled, “Missed you too”
It felt as though the movement all around you had come to a halt.
The eyes of his colleagues peering at him. At the little moment of bliss that had unfolded before their eyes.
“What the fuck?” Santos’ words sliced through the air.
Confusion crossing the features of many around the room.
Dennis’ eyes snap open from the words. A sheepish grin forming on his face, as heat rises to his cheeks. His hand intertwined with yours. “C’mon let’s go somewhere a little more private”
Teasingly you quip, “I just got here and already you want to get me alone, what would your mother say”
Your words only make his blush deepen, as he shakes his head at your accusations whilst you giggle lightly.
Your arm coiling around his, as he guides you to the breakroom. Only to be trailed after by his coworkers.
“You’re not getting away that easily, huckleberry.” Santos notes as she follows after him, while Javadi and Princess follows suit.
“Was that Y/N?” Mel asks Langdon while they stand at a nurses station. Watching as you and Dennis pass by.
Eyes flicking up to follow her pointed finger, Langdon’s own eyes widen a fraction, “Good for Whitaker,” he offers.
How he had managed to snag you was beyond Langdon’s imagination.
“Hey where’s everyone going? We’ve still got hand offs to go through,” Robby calls out with a raised brow, as Dana settles in beside him.
“Whitaker’s girlfriend came in,” Mohan replied. As she herself begins following everyone else.
“And?”
“And she’s the Y/N, as in the very famous actress everyone pines over,” Donnie whispers to them. Not wanting to alert the patients.
“And you know this, how?” Dana asks amusedly.
He purses his lips, “I told you my wife is a big fan. Do you think she’d be open to giving me an autograph? I just know my wife would flip if I got that for her”
“You might have to get in line, seems like everyone wants to meet Whitaker’s girlfriend,” Abbot slides into the conversation, jabbing a finger towards the growing crowd outside the breakroom.
“Don’t tell me you know who that is too?” Robby sends him an arched brow.
Shrugging, “She’s in some pretty cool films. The kid’s got game to pull her”
“Yeah, or he’s been bestowed some incredibly good luck,” Ellis adds as she leans against the bench.
“Good for him,” Dana replies.
“And good for me, means I win the bet,” Shen grins widely. With a cheeky glint in his eye.
They all scoff a laugh at his words. Shaking their heads at his unseriousness.
Santos stands before you both.
As you’re seated in the breakroom, his hand still entwined with yours, softly caressing the back of yours with his thumb. While you lean your head on his shoulder. Relishing being able to be by his side.
Javadi and Princess by her side as they observe the both of them.
A lovesick look adorned on both your faces. Glowing from happiness.
“Explain”
It made no sense.
How was Dennis Whitaker.
Huckleberry.
Her roommate.
Dating one of the most famous actresses at this point in time?
It made no sense at all.
Minds racing from thoughts at how this could be.
How the very person who was just on TV, supposedly in a secret relationship with whoever the media speculated about from high profile actors to heartthrob musicians.
Was in fact, dating her colleague, her roommate, her friend?
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you ask sweetly, “Do you want me to explain, or do you?”
“I like the way you tell it, sweetheart,” he murmured back. Enamoured by your presence.
Turning back to the crowd forming before you.
“I love him, and he loves me, simple as that”
Princess interjects, “That is in no way simple.”
“C’mon we have to know more, I mean this is Whitaker we’re talking about,” Javadi states.
While Dennis’ brows furrow slightly at the insinuation. Only for it to melt as you only snuggle closer into Dennis’ side. “We’ve been together for 3 years now–”
“-almost 4,” he murmurs.
Nodding, “Almost 4,” looking back at them, “There’s really not much else to say”
“Why him?”
“Why not?” you retort. “Have you seen Dennis, this man has been working on a farm since he was a boy. He is ripped with a heart of gold beneath those scrubs”
Dennis rolls his eyes at your words. With a small chuckle escaping his lips. Feeling flushed by your compliments.
Turning to gaze at him. “Besides, he’s only ever loved me for me. Not for anything else.”
“I love you too,” he replied gently. Those words he never held back in telling you.
Turning to each other you hear his friends comment, “These two are way too cute to be real”
“Surely she’s under some sort of spell,” Santos states, looking to you, “Hey blink three times if you need help”
Laughing, you reply, “I promise this is real and not just some weird stunt.”
Grinning as you add, “Dennis might’ve also mentioned some sort of list and me being on it”
Santos’ eyes widen as she shoots Dennis a scalding look of betrayal.
“I’m flattered. But unfortunately I’m happily taken”
“Well that solves that question,” Princess shrugs.
“So who do you think won the bet?-”
“Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain~” The tune of Shen singing out enters the room.
“Yeah, I wonder who,” Santos replies sarcastically.
Finally left alone you bury your head into his neck, as he holds you firmly against him. “Your friends seem nice”
“I think they were just a bit caught off guard”
“Were you surprised?” you asked.
“Most definitely,” he maneuvers slightly to press kisses upon your cheeks until they are pressed firmly against your lips.
Letting out a sigh of content, pulling apart just barely.
“How long do I have you this time?”
“Two weeks until I need to get back,” you say sadly.
Nodding, with a sad smile, “Well, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”
Loving Dennis wasn’t difficult.
Being loved by him was easy.
But being kept apart. That was a hurdle you never quite seemed to get used to.
Just waiting for the day when you could simply go back to your very own home, together.
But for now, you’d wade through the struggles of long distance. You’d dodge the prying eyes of the media.
However that didn’t mean you had to hide it from Dennis’ friends.
Slowly letting more and more people into your little bubble.
Even if they were completely baffled by how.
It was endearingly sweet to witness.
The way you were both completely besotted by each other.
Content to simply bask in each other's embrace.
As the chaos and noise of the world faded away.
Being brought back to that moment beneath the starry night skies and chirping cicadas.
Where Dennis had first kissed you all those years ago.
A moment you’d cherish forever.
Keeping it tucked within the memory of your heart.
Alongside so many other memories by his side.
Hoping to make many more.
And Dennis was all in.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought about this little story. This was a really fun idea to explore. (I may have gone overboard with fluff but whatever. I also used The Drama and put the reader in place of Zendaya, she just felt like the right vibe to emulate) Feel free to send in other requests if you have something in mind 😊
Also vaguely inspired by the song Bewitched by Laufey
Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕
Feel free to find my Dennis Whitaker x Former Army Medic!Reader Tread Lightly Series here
Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺
Or check out my overall Masterlist here
summary: you and whitaker explore the boundaries of your freshly changed relationship
warnings: spicy but not smutty, MDNI, disgusting horrific mutual pining, smooches, dual pov, dennis touches ur butt, possibly unrealistic positioning but idrc, reassurances, they don't boink yet so don't get too excited
a/n: as long as i keep rolling these out you guys will be gettin' em. and yes i do keep jumping around in the timeline... i imagine this is not their first kiss but guess what? i haven't written that yet. xD thank you for all the love you've shown that big capital L loser whitaker and his equally dumb loser roommate | beautiful divider from @strangergraphics
Your hand creeps up under the bottom hem of Dennis's scrub top to find the soft belly you've been craving to touch for months now. Months you've had to stop yourself from thinking about him too much, because it's too painful not to have him. Because you didn't think he could possibly want you back like this.
Turns out he thought the same thing.
Turns out you were both wrong.
And now you're kissing your roommate in the middle of the living room.
"Is this okay?" Your voice comes out wobbly, pressing the pads of your fingers into the delightfully firm squish of his tummy.
Dennis cups your face, and he nods, his cheeks reddening. You think he might actually fall to his knees from how reverently he's looking at you.
He kisses you then, slowly and intentionally. The hand on your cheek snakes around to stabilize the back of your neck, the other grabbing you by the hip and tugging you closer. The gasp that leaves your lips is a more salacious noise than he thinks he's ever heard you make before. Then again, Dennis thinks, there’s probably a lot of salacious noises he’s never heard you make before.
His cock flutters a little, constricting against the elastic band of his scrub pants. Crazy how you're wearing the exact same outfit, yet the sight of you in it sends reverberations all the way down to his dick.
Abandoning your lips, he murmurs your name and trails along your cheek and your jawline until he's pressing warm, wet kisses directly below your earlobe.
His hands travel abroad as well, roaming to the sensitive spot that connects your thighs to your ass. He digs his fingers in, and you jump a little.
"Is that okay?" He asks, rearing back in immediate alert to examine your expression.
A low hum is your response as your leg scrambles to try and hook around him, somehow thinking that's a possibility. Your body craves one thing: wrapping around him like a snake around a tree, and you don't care how it happens. The pounding heartbeat between your legs shoves any semblance of sense out the driver’s seat.
Dennis laughs, a little chuffing sound, then reinforces his hands beneath your rear.
"I can lift you?" He offers. You love that about him, that he seeks permission before turning your view of the whole world on its head. Another buzzy, eager hum vibrates out of you, and Dennis takes that as permission —because it is. He presses his fingers hard under you, and you hop up, legs hooking haphazardly around his hips.
You never forgot that he can hold you without much effort. In fact, you laid awake many nights recalling the time you rolled your ankle at the gym, and Dennis carried you in his arms the half-mile home.
The mere thought of him throwing you around has left you weak in the knees on more than one occasion. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. You attribute it to the farm work he grew up doing. The thought of him baling hay and corraling cows, for some perverse reason, has also left you weak in the knees on more than one occasion.
He has to jostle you around a little to secure his grip, then he's all business, marching with purpose to the wall by the sofa.
It does occur to Dennis that the sofa is right there, but the gasp that ekes out of you when your back pancakes against the wall is intoxicating enough for him to shove any pressing logic into a locked box. Your thighs hug his hips, legs folded around him. He’s been thinking of this for months, of having you, but he never thought it would actually happen.
Dreams of you were just that: dreams. Fantasy. Imagination. Impossible.
A confetti canon shoots off in his heart and his head and down to his dick, shocked and so fucking grateful that he gets to have you like this. That you picked him as much as he picked you. That you want him, too.
Whatever good deed he performed in a past life is paying off now, because holding you like this is nothing short of miraculous.
He takes his time on your neck, curly fringe tickling your cheek while his lips suck and lap you up. An unnerving contrast, you think, for him to touch you in so many places, in so many ways, all at once. His fingers knead your ass while simultaneously pinning you up to the wall.
Dennis’s cock tightens beneath his scrubs, erect and sensitive to every sensation he’s receiving from you. Fingers claw along his back, his arms, digging in just enough for him to feel, to get him hooked, to crave you even more. The pressure of this moment isn't lost on him, but your every touch whittles away at the feeling.
“Dennis,” you whine his name, dragging the syllables out, head tilted to the ceiling as he sucks the same spot on your neck.
His hyper-vigilance prevents him from ignoring you, craning back to examine your expression.
“Am I doing something wrong?” He asks through heavy breaths. Anxiety writes an epic poem across his face.
Deep, blue-green eyes form perfect, sunken-in ovals and search your expression, worried he’s already fucked this up.
The worst thing that could possibly happen, in fact, is him fucking this up.
But from your perspective, you heart stops, caught in this moment like a fish in a net.
You’ve never been to Nebraska, but you imagine this is exactly what people mean when they call it 'big sky country'. You hesitate to speak, but only because the tenderness in his sea-glass eyes temporarily paralyzes you.
“No,” you exhale finally, resting your hands on his shoulders, fingering the hair on the nape of his neck. Flushed and unable to form a coherent thought, you babble on. “No, you’re perfect, I’m sorry. You’re perfect, Dennis, please—“
“Okay,” he nods rapidly while looking down, psyching himself back up to resume his ministrations. He digs his fingers in to the generous, supple skin of the back of your thighs. “But you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”
“Yeah,” your voice is cloying, breathy, and desperate, as you feed the gold chain around his neck through your fingers. “I said your name because I had to. I couldn’t keep it out of my mouth,” you spew. “My brain is revving a thousand miles an hour, I had to.” Your mouth remains open, heavy breaths pumping through it.
Dennis’s dick throbs in his pants at the realization that he’s the reason you’re babbling on, it's because of him that nervous, bubbly laughter and shaky sighs are leaving your beautiful mouth. A jolt of pride, followed by a darkened shade of desire swoop over him.
A slow, twitchy smile erupts over his mouth, and he nods in understanding. “Okay,” he whispers, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Hungry, he thinks, to compound a list of how the different parts of you taste. Concern for your comfort, your pleasure, persists. “But you’ll tell me?” He asks again, chipping away at your resolve. “If I do something you don’t like?”
Petulance flickers out of you in the form of a needy, gravelly whine. “Yes, Dennis, please,” you start, grasping his firm shoulders and squeezing. Your nails bite through his scrub sleeves. “Where is this coming from?”
“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” Dennis explains, hoisting upward so your back slides up against the beige-painted wall. “It’s you. It’s us.”
You take pause at the sincerity of his voice, the meaning propping his words up on shaky stilts. Your neediness takes the backseat, sobering to prioritize this obvious anxiety exuding off of him like steam.
“Set me down?” You whisper softly, phrasing it as a question so he won’t spiral out even more. His forearms flex as you untangle your legs from his middle. You keep your palms over his shoulders, bracing him firmly and maintaining steady eye contact.
“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” you say definitively once your feet are planted on the ground. Dennis reaches for you, tugging you by your scrub top. Your back remains pinned against the wall but your hips jut out, searching for his. “Why do you think you’re going to fuck it up?”
He shakes his head, his mouth a tight line. You think maybe that’s shame darkening his gaze as he averts it from you.
“Dennis,” you try to coax him to look at you, but he's frozen, screwing his eyes shut, his grip tightening around the fabric of your top. "Angel?"
His gaze snaps to yours as the endearment rolls off your tongue. The way you say it is hesitant, but earnest. Blush spreads from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. Dennis's throat is lined with razors, so he just blinks those weathered eyes at you.
You squeeze his shoulders. "Talk to me," you urge softly.
Dennis's head bobs, and as his fists dig into the fabric of your shirt, his knuckles press into your torso. "You're my best friend," he croaks, and you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.
The sight rocks you, and you blink a few times to assure yourself it's actually happening. Your hands slide from the caps of his shoulders to either side of his neck.
You expect him to say more, but his mouth hangs open, as if the words are there but he can't quite get them out.
"You make everything better," he swallows. "I don't know what I'd do if…"
You tug Dennis into a hug, extending your arms so they wind around his neck. Dennis holds you tightly, fingers pressing into the small of your back. "I don't think you need to be worried about that," you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck then nuzzling your chin into it. "We just need to keep communicating, okay? While we're on that," you add, "I don't think I'm going to dislike anything you do to me."
Dennis takes a long, soothing inhale, the scent of your shampoo infiltrating his senses. He clings to you for another few moments, allowing time for his heart to slow back down, for the glass dome of disbelief that any of this is actually happening to crack a little. The tears that threatened to fall have disappeared, and the relief at your assurance lightens the weight off his shoulders.
"You had to say my name, huh?" He asks as he pulls his head back, not letting go of you but managing a sideways slash of a smile.
"Uh, yeah," you snort, drawing back your hands and reaching up to pinch his chin all in the same breath. It's hard to feel embarrassed around him —partially, you think, because you've seen him splattered in countless bodily substances at work. Instead, his presence makes you brave enough to lean into the humility. Honesty instead of excuses. "You kind of have that affect on me."
The crinkles compressing around his eyes are delectable, and you can't resist anymore. You use your hold on his chin to hold him in place, leaning forward to kiss him.
There's lots to talk about with this shift in dynamic. 'Roommates who kiss' isn't exactly an apt description, not when the care you feel for him runs so much deeper. It could be awfully messy, you think, if you and Dennis avoid talking about all of it for too long.
But then you flick your tongue against his and elicit a moan from him that shoots straight down between your legs. Heat continues to bloom when Dennis grips your hips, squaring them parallel to his. You suck his bottom lip for a long moment, peeling away to find a delicately flushed face looking back at yours.
"That's okay?" you ask, receiving an instant, eager nod in return.
"You can make the same assumption," he says.
You arch a brow.
"I'm not gonna dislike anything you do to me, either." Dennis repeats your own words back to you. You open your mouth to protest, but he surges forward to catch your lips before you can.
Summary: Dennis is crushing on another med student. Will a girls night in finally give him the courage to tell her how he feels?
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The apartment smells faintly like microwave popcorn and Trinity’s overpriced candles. Shoes kicked off by the door, textbooks stacked in uneven piles, a hoodie draped over the back of the couch that definitely isn’t Trinity’s.
You collapse into that same couch with a groan, your whole body sinking like you might just disappear into the cushions.
“God,” Victoria mutters, dropping beside you, “if one more patient asks me why everything is taking so long I’m going to pass away. Right there. In the hallway.”
You all laugh, the kind that comes out half-delirious after a shift that ran too long and demanded too much. For a moment, everything feels lighter, no monitors beeping, no charts waiting, no constant pressure humming under your skin.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Dennis Whitaker is pacing.
Actually, pacing is generous. He’s… hovering. Taking three steps toward the door, stopping, running a hand through his hair, turning around, repeating.
You’re here.
He heard your voice the second the front door opened. He’d been sitting on his bed, staring at a textbook he hadn’t read in ten minutes, and then, there it was. Soft, familiar, warm in a way that immediately made his chest tighten.
Y/N.
In his apartment.
On his couch.
Laughing.
He presses his palms to his face, dragging them down slowly.
“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Be normal. You are capable of being normal.”
He is not, historically, capable of being normal. Dennis stills for a moment, weighing out his options.
Option one: stay in his room. Safe. Dignified. No risk of saying something stupid.
Option two: go out there. Casual. Chill.
He stares at himself in the mirror.
“Chill,” he repeats.
He does not look chill.
He looks like a man about to walk into a firing squad armed with nothing but anxiety and poor decision-making.
Still, he straightens a little, adjusts his shirt, and takes a breath.
“You’re getting a snack. That’s it,” he says quietly.
A perfectly normal reason to walk into a room where the girl you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months is sitting.
Totally.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
He makes it three steps into the kitchen before Trinity spots him.
“Hey, Huckleberry!” she calls, way too loud.
He freezes.
Abort mission. Abort—
“Can you bring over the chips in the pantry?”
He nods quickly, because speaking feels like a dangerous gamble right now.
And then—
He makes the mistake of looking.
Your eyes meet his instantly.
Bright, warm, a little tired, but still so you that it hits him like a physical thing. His brain just… stalls.
You smile at him. Easy. Familiar.
Like he doesn’t feel like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.
He looks away almost immediately, grabbing the first snacks he sees just to have something to do with his hands.
Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.
By the time he walks into the living room, you, Trinity, and Victoria are already arguing.
“…I’m just saying Twilight is a classic,” Victoria insists.
“It’s a crime,” Trinity shoots back.
You sit between them, grinning. “You’re both wrong.”
Dennis sets the snacks down carefully, trying to become invisible.
He fails immediately.
“Huckleberry!” Trinity turns to him like she’s just found her secret weapon. “Tell Crash that Twilight is a terrible choice for movie night.”
“Trin, anything is better than those horror movies you like,” you cut in, leaning forward.
“Okay then, genius,” Trinity says, turning to face you, “what do you think we should watch?”
You sit up a little straighter, proud already. “Guardians of the Galaxy.”
Dennis doesn’t even think.
“Yeah,” he blurts, voice a little too quick. “That’s a good one.”
Silence.
Then—
“Yes, see Trinity!?!” you beam, like he just personally validated your entire existence.
His face heats instantly.
Trinity groans. Victoria mutters something under her breath.
“Dennis,” Trinity starts, narrowing her eyes, “stop being a suck up just because you’re in lo—OW—what the fuck?!”
His foot connected with Trinitys shin.
“I—what? I didn’t—” he stammers, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
“Wow,” you say, amused, “violence? During movie selection? Bold.”
“Desperate times,” Trinity mutters, grabbing the remote. “Guardians it is.”
You glance up at Dennis, then shift slightly, making space beside you on the already overcrowded couch.
You pat the spot.
“Sit and watch with us, Denny.”
His brain short-circuits. Denny.
“Oh—no, I have to—”
“Please?”
You pout.
It’s subtle. It’s not dramatic.
It’s, unfortunately for him, devastating.
“…okay,” he says immediately.
Of course he does.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The couch is small.
That becomes apparent the second he sits down.
Your thigh presses against his. Your arm brushes his.
Every nerve in his body lights up like he’s been electrocuted.
He sits up straight, hands awkwardly clasped, staring very intently at the TV like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Do not look at her.
Do not look at her.
Do not—
He looks.
Your face is closer than he expected. Way closer.
You’re already looking at him.
Your smile is softer now. Quieter.
And for a second, everything else fades.
“Hey,” you whisper, leaning in just enough that your voice doesn’t carry, “are you okay? You seem tense.”
He nearly chokes on nothing.
“I—uh—yeah. Just—long shift,” he manages.
You nod, understanding immediately.
Of course you do.
Your hand comes up, resting lightly on his forearm. Your thumb moves back and forth in a slow, absent motion.
Grounding.
Gentle.
Real.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “I get that. Try to relax a little, okay? You look like you’re about to snap in half.”
He lets out a quiet, nervous laugh, shoulders finally dropping just a fraction.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“There we go,” you say softly.
“Shh!” Trinity hisses from the other side of you.
You both laugh quietly, turning back to the movie.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Dennis does not absorb a single second of the plot.
Not one.
He is acutely aware of everything else, though.
The warmth of you pressed against him.
The faint scent of your shampoo.
The way your hand eventually slips away, but the ghost of it lingers.
And then gradually, you go quiet. Your movements slow. Your head tilts. And before he can even process it—
You’re resting against his shoulder.
He inhales sharply, freezing all over again.
Do not move.
He turns his head just slightly, careful, so careful, not to wake you.
Your face is relaxed, lashes resting against your cheeks, lips parted just enough to let out soft, steady breaths.
You look…
He swallows.
You look unfair.
Like something he’s not supposed to have.
Something he doesn’t even know how to reach for.
“God,” Trinity mutters from across the couch, breaking the moment, “Huckleberry, you are so pathetic.”
He startles. “What? I—what are you talking about?”
Victoria leans forward, smirking. “When are you going to ask her out?”
His stomach drops.
“I’m not,” he says quickly, too quickly. “She doesn’t—she doesn’t like me like that.”
Victoria raises an eyebrow, gesturing vaguely to the situation currently unfolding on his shoulder.
“…right.”
He exhales slowly, looking down at you again.
“Just… forget it.”
Trinity snorts. “Whatever you say. But if you don’t ask her out soon, someone else definitely will.”
That lands.
Hard.
Because he knows she’s right.
He’s seen the way people look at you. The way you light up rooms without trying. The way you care, deeply and genuinely, about everyone around you.
You won’t be waiting forever.
His chest tightens.
“…I know,” he admits quietly.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The movie ends.
At some point, Victoria had fallen asleep on Trinity’s side, and Trinity gave up on pretending she’s not invested in the plot.
But Dennis doesn’t move.
He can’t.
Not with you still tucked against him, breathing slow and even.
He doesn’t know how long he sits like that.
Eventually, you stir. A small shift. A quiet inhale.
He goes still again, like that’ll somehow stop time.
Your eyes blink open slowly.
For a second, you look disoriented. Then you realize where you are, and who you’re leaning on.
You don’t pull away immediately. Instead, you tilt your head just slightly to look up at him.
“…hi,” you whisper, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi,” he replies, just as quiet.
“You didn’t wake me,” you say.
“Figured you needed the sleep.”
Something flickers in your expression at that. Soft.
“You could’ve,” you murmur.
“Yeah,” he says. “But… I didn’t want to.”
You study him for a second longer.
Then, unexpectedly, you smile.
Not the teasing one. Not the bright, easy one.
Something quieter. Warmer.
“…good,” you say.
And instead of pulling away completely, you stay, just for a second, savoring the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. The warmth of him grounding you, familiar now, expected, like something you knew he was too shy to ever realize you noticed, or wanted. A small, secret smile tugging at your lips as you let yourself enjoy it.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
A/N ~ Haven't written a fic in a while! hoping to start writing more consistently now :) (please talk to me if you have opinions on The Pitt, no one I know irl watches it :/)
once dennis starts on something, he has to finish it..
dennis was driven, ambitious and attentive in everything he did. no matter the task he would give it his all and then some. 110% always. endlessly putting a piece of himself into any challenge that was thrust into his arms. these traits are what made him a good doctor. they are what made him fit so well with being a healthcare professional. able to advocate for his patients wellbeing without worrying about the consequences. always focused on the best possible care plan for the lives he was entrusted with.
mind focusing in when he had a goal, nothing could break him away from it until he saw it through. even more so when he someone to please, and right now he had you.
bent perfectly over the arm of your couch with both knees digging into the cushions. his large hands resting comfortably on your waist. holding you surprisingly delicately for the pace he was setting. panting into your neck as he peppered sweet wet kisses there, drawing his hips back just to slam them forward again. pulling out completely before going right back in. the thickness of him punching the air straight out of your chest. the forced exhales made you lightheaded, dizzy due to the lack of oxygen in your lungs. but that only heightened your pleasure.
each drag of his cock made you keen. every inch of him that pressed inside had tears welling up in your shut eyes. escaping past your lashes to wet your face and arms. your head resting on said folded arms dampening them with each sob. desperate moans and whines muffled by your elbows.
“sweetheart—a-are you going to cum..again?”
he gasped in disbelief feeling the way your body gradually tightened around him, little whimpers breaking through his sentence. the words coming out hushed and wispy. having already made you finish twice, he couldn’t believe you were already rearing for a third.
you could only nod not bothering to pick your head up fully. mouth working to do little else than to mumble out pleasure enduced noises. body shaking violently as it came upon you. muscles tensing almost painfully as you mutter out something that vaguely resembles his name.
the feeling was somehow relaxing but overwhelming all at once. your body finally grasping that release it desperately craved, whilst simultaneously being unable to take the effects of it. wracking sharp tremors throughout your nerves. your body as if every tendon had been pulled taut on the verge of snapping.
“its okay—i got you..”
he whispers this, leaning up to dot soft kisses over your cheek. his right hand snaking around your hip and down to pet at your clit, making you jolt. applying sweet pressure to prolong the sensation. while the other reaches for your tummy. lightly pressing down right above where he rests inside you. palm warm where his skin meets yours. making your cunt clench down involuntarily. that in turn makes the man behind you hiccup out something melodic and tender.
the overwhelming sensitivity melting you down until you’re limp against him and the couch. tears flowing freely as sobs erupt through your body. unable to even begin to fight the maddening feeling of your third orgasm hitting you like a truck.
“there we go..it’s okay. you’re so beautiful..yes you are.”
his voice ever so gentle against the shell of your ear creates something of a warm daze to overtake you.
the walls of your cunt squeeze down on dennis so tightly you almost push him out. your ears ring, everything is muffled, his voice, moans, along with yours. sounding as if your head had been enveloped in thick cotton. but he stays buried firmly inside you, fighting against the overwhelming pressure. the driving force that simultaneously pulls him in and forces him out. hips stuttering as he nears his edge, so close it makes his chest hurt.
“i think..oh christ—“ he pants, forehead dipping to rest on the back of your neck.
browns pinched together in what could be assumed as pain. lip trapping itself between his teeth. closed eyes fluttering, lashes tickling his cheeks. unlike you, this will be his second time coming. no matter the amount the hypersensitivity is there, prominent and dizzying. with having just made you come, his body—almost reflexively— begins to tremble in the beginnings of his orgasm.
it was as if him pleasing you was all he needed to finish.
as he thrusts grow sloppier, his pants grow harsher. “—c-coming!” he manages out, it was a strangled gasp if anything.
the fingers on your clit along with the hand on your tummy faltering. falling away in favor of sliding up your abdomen, gripping at your breasts while he quivers and twitches inside you. an impossibly warm wet feeling filling you up as he spills into you.
“so good..you f-feel unreal.” he hiccups out, sniffling.
once he calms a bit, the pin prick like aftershocks ebbing away into that quiet mellow. he slowly pulls up and off of you. gently sliding his softening cock from your cunt, a palm resting above your ass while he pulls out. a dual whimper coming from the two of you. sticky webs of slick and cum cling to his shaft as he frees himself. a steady gush of it leaking from your hole. dennis quickly putting a hand beneath to catch it as to not ruin the fabric of your pretty couch.
the viscous liquid pooling into his hand is just as warm as you. and he has half the mind to smear it over the folds of your pussy to fuck back in what he could. but he ignores the urge in favor of taking care of you, there would be time for that..later.
even through this he looks at your still limp, quivering form, smiling to himself. before his eyes are drifting back to how your body slowly pushes his spend out of you. hurriedly grabbing his shirt he discarded what feels like a life time ago. wiping his hand clean and puts the article beneath you as a makeshift towel.
before lowering himself to be eye level with the pretty slickness of your cunt. his hands come to rub soothingly over your thighs and ass in an attempt to calm you. his eyes fixated on how your cunt spasms occasionally. hole empty and fluttering around nothing in a pathetic display that makes his already soft cock twitch.
all the while his cum still drips from you, leaking from your entrance. sliding up to your clit before dropping in long sticky webs.
his tongue comes out to lick over the seam of his lips.
dennis fully intended to just inspect you, give you a quick once over. to ensure he hadn’t hurt you during the intimacy you shared. but with how pliant you lay before him he couldn’t stop himself. and as soon as an idea crosses his mind, he had to see it through. it was for your own good really, his mouth would soothe you—yeah, it would help to ease the ache. to quell the deep throbbing tremors he knew you were experiencing. the brunette knew so.
he was taking care of you is all, tending to the one most dear to him. this was his care plan for you. his standard of care and method to nursing you.
at the first brush of his nose you gasp. “den—denny no! please i…i-i cant..” hand blindly flailing behind you to push at his head.
but the man pays no mind. hands continuing rubbing up the backs of your thighs like the actions would quiet your protests.
“no no..it’s okay. i’m just helping..” he says before whispering, mostly to himself “i wish you could look at this mess i’ve gotta clean up..” he sighs, almost dreamily.
“it’s my fault baby..let me clean you out okay? just taking care of you..it’ll be real quick.”
thumbs moving to spread you open against your wishes. his warm tongue beginning to prod at you. it makes you crumble, each lick feels white hot, making your head spin. although your hand still swats at your boyfriend even catching a grip on his messy curls. it does little to deter him. you vaguely hear your own voice moaning out watery pleas.
“shh baby..i know it, mhm…dont i know it.”
comes his slick muffled response, completely ignoring your cries. you feel his head move, nodding as he says the words, agreeing with nobody but himself.
the tip of his tongue licking soft broad strokes all over you. between your folds and atop them, taking in any stray wetness and cum into his mouth for him to swallow down. paying no attention to how the fluffy hairs surrounding your pussy brush against his face, slightly tickling him.
thumbs still dutifully spreading you open. from how he’s positioned behind you and with the arm of the couch resting just underyour chest. there isn’t anywhere for you to run from him, to hide from the pleasure. eventually causing you to give up protesting. dropping your head once more along with the hand in his hair. body far to weak to keep up such a meaningless fight.
you’re rewarded with an almost excruciatingly satisfying lick to your clit. his lips encapsulating the still pulsing nerve to suck at it gently. while the tip his angled nose repeatedly slides ever so slightly into your entrance.
it all feels so good you can barely process it. the sweetest kind of torture is what he was gifting you. making your head swim, nothing and everything flowing through your mind slowly like molasses. with the last objections receding you fully sink into the couch, back arching down into something more comfortable. letting the overstimulation induced haze wash fully over you. surrendering yourself to the assault on your senses.
“there we go..there she is..” dennis praises, lips releasing your clit to say it.
giving her one last kiss before taking his mouth and kissing back up to your hole. licking into it, replacing the cum with his spit slowly but surely. his chest and cock swelling up with adoration for you.
“love taking care of you, o-of her..my sweet girls.”
it’s not been long since you moved here and you’ve already ended up in the er. that one visit is the start or a reunion you weren't quite ready for
1.2k
fluff - x childhood friend!reader, medical inaccuracies, there's good amount of childhood friend reader in my head rn
It’s a horrible day, even in the bustle of the ER waiting room, you can hear every drop of rain the barrels against the roof, the windows, the doors. Everyone’s shivering, despite the heating and the number of bodies compacted into the room, and everyone’s dripping rain water to the floor. Your hair is a mess, your clothes stick to your skin and the clean, dry hand towel you keep pressed against your palm feels a lot less sanitary when you think about the injury underneath it.
You feel like it’s been forever since you sat down but you seem to be one of few that hasn’t particularly minded the fact. You’ve witnessed more people than you’d like walk up to and bang against the glass between them and the healthcare workers that they seem forget are doing the best job they can with their resources. It’s a bigger pain than the split in your hand, that finally stopped bleeding but every small flex sends shivers up your arm.
Watching it happen once more, eyebrows furrowed as a larger man huffs away from the woman at the desk, you finally hear your name be called. You approach and are sent through to the ER, greeted by a friendly face before you’re taken through to an empty chair.
Dr Mckay, who smiles at you consistently throughout your interaction, leads you through the ER, pulling a stool close to your chair and sitting beside you; she’s quickly joined by another doctor. There’s a quick explanation that the student doctor, Javadi—who you’re more than happy to have join—will be performing the, apparently very simple, clean and stitches your palm will need.
There’s small talk, a few laughs and a peaceful few moments as you’re cleaned, numbed and the stitches begin. Between instructions, Dr Mckay seems genuinely interested in what you have to say.
“I moved here two weeks ago, from Nebraska, but I’m not completely surprised I’m here already. I’m so accident prone.”
“Nebraska?” Javadi looks up at you, “One of the doctors here is from Nebraska. Do you—”
“It’s a big state,” Mckay laughs, interrupting the oncoming question, turning to you with a grin “The chances of you knowing Whitaker are so small.”
“I know some Whitakers,” You cock your head at her, “Dennis did go to medical school but the chances of him being here.” Echoing her words, you laugh softly, met with a quiet that stops you quickly and look between the two of them, watching you with somewhat startled faces. “No way.” A laugh falls from you: your Dennis can’t be the person they’re talking about.
“You know Whitaker.” Javadi states, still confused and a little more shocked than she’d expected, eyes focusing back on your injury. She says it like it’s not quite true, like it can’t be true because how could her silly question—that she couldn’t even ask—actually have the answer of ‘yes’?
“I mean,” You smile softly, “Knew is probably better. I grew up with him, haven’t seen him in a few years though.” Your gaze falls to your hand, watching as Javadi meticulously stitches your palm, fascinated by the ease at which she pulls the sutures, how she ties them perfectly together and moves on to the next.
“What a small world.” Mckay mumbled, observing the student, peaking up at you slightly. “Does he know you’re here? If he’s not—"
You hear you name be called again, looking away from Javadi, just finishing up your stitches, you see Dennis heading your way with a look in his eyes so confusing you’re not sure how to read it. Is he concerned? Wondering why you’re here? You silently hope he’s not thinking you followed him after all these years—you’re not sure his family has ever mentioned where he’s working to you, or that he was in Pittsburgh when you found out you’d got the job you’d applied for.
He rushes to you and your own questions form in your mind, how he remembered you, as though you didn’t spend every day together as kids; like you didn’t sob the day he headed to medical school hoping he wouldn’t forget about you as he moved on from his Nebraskan farm life—the tears you shed when that last message was left unread. If someone told him you were here, but how could they when the only ones that knew of you acquaintance were sat in front of you.
Why he looked so concerned now you were in his emergency room, his workplace, his city.
“Hi.” You speak meekly, looking away from him again.
“Hey,” he stands close to your chair, a soft smile sent down to you, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you—“
“I’m good,” you smile, “All patched up.” Javadi let’s go of your hand just in time for you to flash your new battle scar at him.
“What happened?” Javadi interrupts briefly to let you know she’ll grab a few pain meds for you and you’ll be ready to discharge soon, her and Mckay leave the two of you together.
“I was washing dishes.” You sigh, pulling your hand to your lap suddenly a lot more shy in front of him, “Hand in water then, boom, knife in hand.” Dennis just stares for a moment, mouth slightly open as he tries to find any words to say.
“Trauma five minutes out,” An older man comes around the corner, clearly having seen Dennis standing with you, Javadi coming back between the two men with everything you need so you can free their clearly heaving emergency room. “Be ready.” Dennis nods back at the man, his eye drifting to you for a brief second but it makes you even more nervous than before, if that was even possible. You’re alone again a moment later.
“Okay,” He drums a fist against the back of your chair, looking between you and where his attending had been stood just moment before. You’re good to go, he’s needed elsewhere but he’s not quite ready to go yet. There’s years of unspoken words to be shared between you, he’s got stories of lives he’s saved he wants to impress you with.
Maybe it’s his newfound confidence, something that he’s still working on but you can definitely see blooming on his as he stands before you. More himself than he was with his brothers growing up, how different he seems greeting the nurse that walks passed him with a quick nod and a raise of a finger “1 second” as another calls his name. He’s needed, but he won’t lose this chance to show you just who he’s become.
“Well,” he pats against his scrubs, finding a notepad in a hurry. He scratches his pen against is, “This is my number,” his voice comes out in a squeak—said confidence apparently not transferring to, what he thinks is, an attempt to flirt—and he clears his throat
It shouldn’t feel so awkward, it’s just you. But you have been on his mind, more than he’d ever admit to you, since he left. He’ll see your smile in his dreams, think of you when he has a patient that shares just one small characteristic of yours, he thinks of you a lot. And now you’re here, in the ER, and he feels tongue tied at the sight of you again. “I changed it during med school but y’know,” he scratches the back of his head. “I can show you around a bit, if you want?”
You smile at him, relaxing as you allow yourself to imagine things turning back to the way they were before. “That would be nice.”
