punching above his weight...or is he? - dennis whitaker x f!reader
summary: once your relationship is no longer a secret, the emergency department starts to see just how perfect you and dennis are for each other, and they realize that you may not be as far out of his league as they initially thought.
aka dennis can fucking PULL okay.
pairings: dennis whitaker x RT!reader (respiratory therapist) word count: 4.2k cw/tags: swearing, no use of y/n, typical pitt warnings (blood, intubation, depictions of a motorcycle crash victim), you're (affectionately) nicknamed 'hot shot' by most of the department, dennis is obsessed with you, you're obsessed with him, what more could you ask. you have hair long enough for the top half to be tied back in a nondescript way. light inappropriate conduct in the workplace but it's all in good fun and no one's feelings are hurt!
more dennis x hot shot guys i told you i couldn't be stopped! inspired by this ask and @libbyqypu :)
secure chat for anyone who doesn’t know is basically a messenger system that is patient privacy compliant and integrated into the charting platform!!
MASTERLIST
OTHER PARTS HERE :)
TAGLIST(S)
Victoria’s killing a bit of time in the main foyer before her shift starts one day when the two of you arrive.
Dennis pulls the door open for you, as usual, holding it while you walk inside. He does the same with the inner door, despite having to speedwalk in order to get there before you. She notices that he’s carrying your backpack, the strap slung over the opposite shoulder from his own. He reaches out as you walk towards the elevators, fingers pinching the side of your shirt, gently pulling you closer to him. It’s subtle, and Victoria’s certain she’s the only one who notices that your hands now brush against eachother’s as you move.
“You coming up?” You ask, reaching forwards, hitting the button.
He checks his watch, then nods. “Still got time.”
You bite back a smile as you step into the elevator, doors closing behind you, blocking you from Victoria’s probing eyes. The ICU floor is much quieter than the ED, especially since it’s still early, most of the patients still sleeping as the hospital starts to wake up. You swipe your badge against the sensor, and then step through the double door together, like you always do.
Dana’s standing at the central desk when you come in, talking to the charge nurse there, trying to get some boarders moved before dayshift officially takes over. She clocks both of you immediately, her sentence coming to a stop when she hears your soft laughter. She turns around, watching as you approach, smiling at her.
“Dana,” You greet. “Are you finally leaving the ER to join us up here?”
“You wish,” She says, looking past your shoulder, where Dennis is waiting a half-step behind you. “Whitaker, fancy seeing you here.”
The ICU charge scoffs, laughing a bit. “What do you mean? He’s up here every morning.”
Dana raises an eyebrow, a tiny smirk on her face. “That so?”
He shrugs, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink, both bags on his back lifting with the motion. “Pretty much, yeah.”
You, wanting to save him from any further embarrassment, turn around and give him an opening. “I can take my bag, you can head downstairs.”
He frowns, shaking his head. “I got it, I’ll be right back.”
He walks over to the locker room, his figure disappearing through the door. One of the nightshift RT’s comes out of a room, and Dana doesn’t miss the way his eyes light up at the sight of you. He ignores everyone else at the desk as he approaches, saying your last name with way too much enthusiasm for six-thirty in the morning.
“You should’ve seen this patient last night,” He starts, diving into the story as soon as your eyes are on him, a small smile on your face as you genuinely listen.
Dennis comes back out of the locker room just as he takes your wrist in his hand, turning your arm so your palm faces the ceiling, gesturing to your forearm as he explains the IV situation the patient had. He mimes the action of fluids spewing, retelling the moment it came loose as he was in the middle of intubating.
Your face scrunches, but you’re still smiling, and he’s pretty sure you say ‘oh, gross!” before slowly pulling your arm away, tucking both hands into your pockets. He comes up behind you, setting your stethoscope and water bottle on the desk. The other RT loses all steam at the sight of him, and he immediately takes a step back, stuttering over his words for a second. You feel a single finger twist into your waistband, making you look over your shoulder, seeing Dennis and your belongings.
“Thank you,” You say, fully spinning around. He drops his hand back to his side, nodding.
“Yeah, uh, no problem,” He says. “I’ll see you later?”
“Hopefully,” You say. “Good luck down there.”
“You too,” He says, then he heads back through the doors and down the hallway. You loop your stethoscope over your shoulders and put your water bottle by your workstation before returning to the nightshifter, a tablet in hand now.
“Catch me up,” You say, the rest of his story long forgotten.
Dana follows Dennis out, still smirking, putting both hands on his shoulders as she comes up beside him.
“You’re a sweet kid, you know that?"
Around eleven that morning, the higher-ups send donuts down to the ED as a ‘thank you’ for all their hardwork. Robby’s in the breakroom when Dennis walks in, admiring the spread, trying to decide if he actually wants one or not.
“Anything good, boss?” He asks, stepping closer to the tables, looking for something specific.
Robby shrugs. “Would be nicer if they could just pay my staff what they deserve.”
“Oh, definitely,” Dennis says, spotting what he’s looking for, grabbing one of the napkins nearby. “Gotta’ take advantage though, right?”
He picks up a donut, setting it neatly on top of the napkin and putting it down on the table. He opens the fridge, pulling out his lunch and unzipping the bag. Robby watches as he places it on top of whatever’s in there, then puts it back in the fridge, brushing his hands off and closing the door.
“Worthy of saving for later?” Robby asks, slightly teasing. Dennis lets out a small laugh, already halfway out the door.
“Yeah, uhm, trying to be optimistic about getting a break today,” He jokes, stumbling over the words. He’s still getting used to joking around with his boss.
Robby shakes his head, following him back outside. “Oh, you know better than that by now, Whitaker.”
They step out just as the ambulance bay doors open, revealing two paramedics wheeling a gurney in. They both rush over as Dana directs them to an open trauma room, examining the patient while one of the paramedics gives handover.
“Twenty-three year old male, motorcycle versus guardrail,” She says. “Helmet off at the scene, significant facial trauma, breathing on his own for now, but it’s not pretty.”
They swing the door to the trauma room open. Nurses flood in behind them, taking their usual spots around the room, clicking monitors on and hooking them up to the patient.
“Hey, can you open your eyes for me?” Dennis asks, shining his penlight into them when he gets no response. “Pupils equal and reactive, GCS six.”
“Sats eighty-seven and falling,” Mateo says.
“Bag him,” Dennis instructs, setting his stethoscope against his chest, moving it around. “Decreased breath sounds bilaterally.”
“This is gonna’ be a complex airway,” Frank says, having come in a moment after them. “Let’s get respiratory down here.”
You’re adjusting some vent settings for one of your patients when your pager goes off, making you pluck it off your scrub pocket, glancing down at the tiny screen.
EMERG. DEPT. TRAUMA #3 - STAT PAGE
You shove the pager back into place, already running out of the room, calling for the other RT on shift to finish with your patient as you fly by. You take the stairs down to the ED, shoving the door open at the bottom, gripping your stethoscope in your hand so it doesn’t fall. You grab a pair of gloves before opening the trauma room door, trying to assess the situation as best you can in a few seconds. You can’t even see the patient from how many people are in there, crowding around the bed.
“Sats down to seventy-nine,” Perlah says. Garcia already has sterile gloves on, holding her hands up and shaking her head as she looks over Dennis’ shoulder. He’s holding the laryngoscope, watching the monitor, trying to get a good view of the anatomy.
“We need to crike,” She says.
“Woah, hey, I’m here, what’s going on?” You say, grabbing a gown, shifting towards the head of the bed. You look towards the patient’s face, or what’s fucking left of it, exhaling sharply. “Jesus.”
“Motorcycle versus guardrail,” Frank says. “His jaw’s completely unstable, we couldn’t get a seal with the mask, he’s bleeding like crazy.”
“Move, please,” You say, kind but firm, needing to get a closer look. Dennis pulls the tool out, stepping back, his hands up so they don’t get caught on any of the IV lines. Mateo holds the suction as you do your exam, running through options in your head. He’s already using the biggest suction that he can, and the patient's sats are still falling.
The room seems frozen around you as you think, everyone waiting on your next move. You nod to yourself when you decide on the best course of action, a small way to hype yourself up.
“I’m going in through the nasal passage,” You say.
“Blind?” Frank asks. “That’s-”
“No, not blind,” You correct. “I need a lubricated three-point-five.”
The tube is placed into your hand five seconds later. “I’m gonna’ try and advance just past the tongue, see if I can use it as a guide.”
You glance up, making eye contact with Frank, then Robby, waiting to see if either will object to your plan. Robby gives you an affirmative nod.
“Do it.”
You look to Dennis, who’s already watching you. “Could you listen for breath sounds please, Dr. Whitaker?”
“Oh, Dr. Whitaker,” Garcia repeats. “Is that what you call him in the bedroom?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You shoot back, smirking.
“Behave,” Robby says, but you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s fighting a smile. Dennis gets into place as you use your free hand to put your own stethoscope in, settling the diaphragm against the patient’s neck, moving it around until you hear what you’re looking for. Then, you slowly advance the tube through the nostril, eyes flicking towards the chest every few seconds to check for rise.
You start to get some resistance at fourteen centimetres, and the chest twitches. You hear a small amount of air pass.
“Minimal movement,” Dennis says, focusing on what he’s hearing.
“Bag it,” You instruct, and Jesse does, squeezing. The patient’s chest rises again, and Dennis looks back at you, nodding, confirming that he can hear at least some remnants of breath sounds.
“Sats up to eighty-five,” Perlah announces.
You shine your penlight into his mouth, studying the passage that the nasal tube is barely revealing, committing the location of his tracheal opening to memory each time the suction clears enough blood for you to see it.
“I can intubate now,” You say.
“Are you sure?” Frank asks, taking a look himself, seeing nothing but blood and a small clearing where the tube sits. “You still can’t visualize most of the landmarks.”
“I don’t need all the landmarks,” You counter. “Do you want a real airway or not, Dr. Langdon?”
Dennis’ breath catches in his throat, eyes wide. You’re looking at Frank expectantly, waiting for a decision. He steps back, nodding. Garcia smirks, speaking before he can.
“Blade to hot shot, please.” You take the tool in your hand, turning on the light and sliding it into place. You don’t bother looking towards the monitor, knowing that you won’t be able to see where you’re going.
“Seven tube,” You say, reaching for it once it’s passed over, positioning it where the nasal tube already sits. You wait for the suction to expose the clearing again, not hesitating when it does, sliding the tube into the airway. You’re almost certain that it’s in the right place based on how it feels as it clears the epiglottis. “I’m in.”
The cuff is inflated, and Jesse moves the bag from the nasal tube onto the new one, nodding. “Yellow on end-tidal.”
“Good breath sounds bilaterally,” Dennis adds.
“Sats up to ninety-four,” Perlah says. The tension in the room fades as you look at Dennis, failing to contain a grin when you make eye-contact. He gives you a tiny, proud smile and a subtle nod, silently saying ‘nice work.’
You don’t realize that everyone else catches it, too.
“I’ll get him up to CT,” Garcia announces. “Glad you were here, hot shot.”
“Excellent work,” Robby says, followed by your last name. The patient is wheeled out of the room, and you’re all left behind, pulling off gowns and gloves.
“Thanks,” You say. “It’s what I’m good for.”
Dennis holds the door for you as you leave, exhaling once you’re out. Frank holds his fist up.
“Sorry for doubting you,” He says. You smile, tapping your knuckles against his.
“No harm, no foul,” You insist, waving him off. The adrenaline of the trauma starts to wear off as you move towards one of the computers, wanting to get the charting out of the way before you go back to the ICU—as long as none of your patients crash. Goosebumps splinter over your arms, despite the long-sleeve you’re wearing under your scrub top, making you shiver.
Dennis is shrugging his fleece off before you even sit down, handing it to you, already focused on the board to figure out where he should head first. He’s about to walk away when he remembers, spinning back around and leaning towards you over the desk.
“Oh, hey, there’s something for you in my lunch,” He says, voice quiet, but everyone in the vicinity hears him. They started watching the second he passed you his jacket without a single word. “You can grab it before you head back up, if you want.”
You close your hand around his fleece, trying to get your brain to function again. All work is abandoned by the people around when, for the first time possibly ever, you’re speechless. Not because this is unusual behaviour, just because he’s never done it so…publicly before.
“Okay,” You finally say, the single word breathy and faint. “Thank you.”
Everyone is staring at the two of you like it’s their favourite TV show.
“Yeah, ‘course,” He says.
He walks off, you take a seat, pulling the fleece over your head and sticking your badge to the front pocket before logging on to the computer. Your heart is racing, but you do your best to hide it from your colleagues.
“You ever wonder how they ended up together?” Frank asks, watching the interaction from afar, the question aimed at Mel, who has no idea what he’s referring to.
“Who?” She asks, barely looking up from her tablet.
“Whitaker and Hot Shot,” He clarifies. Mel looks up now, still confused.
She says your real name like it’s a question. Frank nods.
“Yeah, Hot Shot,” He emphasizes.
Mel shrugs. “I didn’t know everyone called her that, I thought it was just Garcia.”
“Doesn’t matter,” He says, moving on. “Labs back for twelve yet?”
Trinity comes back into the department twenty minutes later, having gone outside for a breather, stopping just behind your chair as she walks by. She squints, realizing that you’re definitely wearing Whitaker’s quarter-zip, the one he wears pretty much every single day once it starts getting colder. She goes straight to Victoria, who’s talking to Cassie while they wait for one of their patients to get back from CT.
“He gave her his fucking fleece,” She says, eyes drifting towards you. Victoria and Cassie look over.
“Oh my god, that’s so cute,” Victoria says, pouting slightly. “He’s so sweet to her.”
“Have you seen her?” Trinity asks, rhetorical. “He’s got to be in order to keep her around.”
Cassie raises an eyebrow. “I think it’s probably just because he loves her.”
“Or he knows he’s punching above his weight,” Trinity counters. “I love the kid, but she’s practically a supermodel.”
“Well, maybe that’s what drew her to him,” Victoria suggests. “You know, she’s so used to people tripping over themselves to impress her, maybe she liked the fact that he doesn’t make a fool out of himself to get her attention.”
Trinity thinks about that for a second, cocking her head slightly as she looks at you. “Huh. Never thought about it like that.”
“Has no one considered the idea that she just thought he was attractive?” Cassie asks. “He’s a good looking guy!”
Victoria shrugs. “Doesn’t matter either way, they clearly love eachother.”
You barely even realize that your head’s starting to hurt before a pill cup and your favourite donut are placed on your desk. You tug your eyes away from the screen, almost done with your charting, blinking a few times to clear your fuzzy vision. There’s two ibuprofen tablets in the cup, and you see Dennis standing beside you, holding his water bottle out. Robby watches from his workstation a few feet away, smiling, remembering how he watched Dennis set that donut aside a couple hours ago. It wasn’t for him, it was for you.
"Headache?" He asks.
“How…?” You ask, taking the bottle from him and opening the lid.
“You’re blinking more than usual,” He says, as though anyone would’ve picked up on it.
“Oh,” You say. “Yeah, it's not too bad, though. Thank you.”
You take the pills and a few extra sips of water before passing it back to him. He sets it on the counter, folding his arms over his chest as he leans back.
“You should eat something,” He suggests.
You nod. “I’ll eat this in one second, thank you so much, Denny.”
Robby looks towards Dana, mouthing ‘Denny?’ to her, and she mouths ‘I know!’ back.
Dennis nods, taking a seat at one of the computers across the hub. You finish your own charting a few minutes later, standing up and walking over to one of the nearby sinks, washing your hands thoroughly. You pick up the donut when you get back to the desk, tearing it in half, holding one side out towards him.
He’s so wrapped up in his work that he barely glances up when he takes it, then he does a double take, brows furrowing before he looks at you. He’s about to protest when you give him a look, one that let’s him know that you’re well aware he hasn’t eaten since his shift started. He keeps his half raised up, tilting it towards you, and you tap your own portion against his. You both take a bite at the same time, and Princess raises an eyebrow.
“Did they just…cheers with a donut?” She asks.
“You haven’t seen ‘em do that before?” Dana asks. “They do it with everything—granola bars, apple slices, sandwiches. It’s sweet.”
“I saw them do it with goldfish once,” Mateo says, spinning around in his chair to face them. “Pretty sure they made them kiss.”
You stretch your arms above your head a few minutes later, leaning against the back of your chair. A few people glance over, hoping to get a glimpse of something, but Dennis’ fleece keeps everything covered. You gather a portion of your hair in your hands, reaching towards your wrist for a hair tie.
It snaps when you go to loop it around, making you frown.
“Ow,” You murmur, dropping your hair. Victoria goes to offer you a new one, but she’s cut off by Dennis pulling one off his own arm, slingshotting it across the hub, a solid twenty feet or so. You catch it in your palm like it’s second nature, sticking it between your teeth, smoothing your hair back again.
She malfunctions for a second, trying to see if anyone else witnessed that. Most people have gone back to work, eyes focused on screens or notepads, including Dennis.
“I…how did you do that?” She asks.
Dennis doesn’t even look over. “Do what?”
“The—the hair tie thing,” She stutters. He shrugs.
“She’s always losing them,” He says, as if that remotely answers her question. She’s close enough to see his screen, catching a new secure chat rise to the top of the list that he’s working through answering. It’s your first and last name followed by ‘RRT,’ the profile photo you in scrubs, standing against a white wall.
heading back up
She glances over at you, still sitting across the hub. You’re looking at your computer, scanning some new orders for your ICU patients, face neutral as you mess with your necklace. She looks back at Dennis’ screen.
He signs the note he's working on before opening the conversation.
Come here a second
You log off of the computer, pick up your stethoscope and walk over to him. It’s casual—comfortable. His hand lifts from the keyboard once you’re close enough, reaching over and flipping the collar of his fleece out from where it’s folded in on itself. You raise an eyebrow as he pats it twice, the simple touch of his palm to your collarbone intoxicating.
“How long has that been bothering you?” You ask, teasing and quiet. The volume has picked back up in the department, so Victoria shuffles a bit closer to try and hear the conversation.
He pretends to think, glancing at his watch. “How long ago did you put it on?”
You laugh under your breath. “I didn’t realize I was causing you such distress.”
“Yeah, you should probably be more careful,” He says, the corner of his mouth twitching up, but his eyes are wide with concern. “Are you warm enough? I think I have a long sleeve in my bag if you want it.”
You do want it, but not because you’re still cold.
“No, I’m okay, thank you,” You say, trying to get your feet to move, but his presence is sucking you in. You’re tempted to wedge yourself into his side, knowing that he’d probably respond automatically, arms wrapping around you and his lips brushing your temple like they would at home.
“Okay, just come grab it if you change your mind,” He says. Your pager beeps from your pocket, and you grimace, face scrunching up in disappointment.
“I will,” You say, checking it quickly before putting it back. You’re still hesitating, not taking a step away from him. He smiles.
“Go,” He insists, softly. “They need you.”
You look at him for another second, pursing your lips. “Yeah, alright, going now, Dr. Whitaker.”
Victoria’s eyes widen as she rereads the same line on her tablet for the millionth time. A blush blooms on Dennis’ neck, and he brings a hand up to try and cover it immediately, his blue eyes following you as you get closer to the doors, filled with adoration.
He gets another secure chat five minutes later. Victoria squints to see what it says.
made it :) don’t work too hard while im gone
He types back right away.
Yes ma’am
Victoria gasps. Dennis glances back at her.
She brings her elbow up to her face, pretending to cough a few times, clearing her throat once she’s done with the performance.
“Sorry, dry in here today,” She says, trying to give him a reassuring smile. He nods once, unconvinced, but he doesn’t press her on it.
Her own secure chat lights up.
TRINITY SANTOS, MD smooth, crash
Seven finally rolls around, signalling the end of your shift. You go back downstairs, waiting outside the ER, like usual, backpack on and changed out of your scrubs. Dennis comes out ten minutes later with Trinity and Victoria trailing behind, his eyes softening when he sees you.
“Hey, ready to go?” He asks, making you look up from your phone. You nod, greeting his friends before falling in step beside him, bumping your shoulder against his.
“Oh, gross,” Trinity says, frowning at the heavy rain that’s pouring outside. “You want a ride, Crash?”
“Yes, please,” Victoria says, already bracing herself as Trinity opens the door, turning back to you and Dennis for a second. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” You both say, giving her a tiny wave as they step out into the rain, running to Trinity’s car.
Dennis pulls his keys out of his backpack, squeezing your wrist quickly. “Stay here.”
You smile. “I know.”
He goes outside, rounding the corner and speedwalking away from the doors. You stay inside, waiting, until you feel someone stop beside you.
“Waiting for Whitaker?” Robby asks. “I swore he left a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, yeah, he did,” You confirm. “He went to grab the car.”
Robby hums, chuckling. “Of course he did.”
You laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs, hands in his pockets. “He just really loves you, is all.”
Your chest and neck start to heat up, making you look towards the ground, scuffing your shoes against the floor. “Yeah, he does.”
“Well, have a good night,” He says.
You smile. “Goodnight, Robby.”
He walks off just as Dennis pulls the car in front of the doors, shifting it into park as he leans over, gripping the inside handle of the passenger side door. You tense up the moment you’re outside, rain pelting against you, thankful that you still have his fleece on as you run to the car. He opens the door right before you make it so you can just jump inside, slamming it shut behind you, wiping some water off your face.
You’re both soaked, him more than you, obviously—but he doesn’t care. He leans over the centre console, hand looping around the back of your neck and pulling you close, kissing you. You kiss him back, smiling into it, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. He kisses your forehead after, then pecks your lips again for good measure.
“Love you,” He says.
“I love you,” You echo, still smiling.
A/N - i love that u guys love dennis and hot shot bc i think about them constantly
tags:
@libbyqypu @thenormreedus @sinoxima @serrendiipty @celiaisacaterpillar @xoxoloverb @lulusa27 @navs-bhat @momdancingtomcr
