TheConfessional

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:

07:00 P.M.

He was not getting off this shift on-time.

Robby had gathered everyone around for an ER-wide huddle five minutes earlier to brief everyone on the incoming wave of patients headed for the ER. Multiple-vehicular collision, at least ten cars, estimated thirty patients, ETA five minutes.

“If you have any calls to make, I suggest you make them now,” Robby said, grimly. “Once the first few patients arrive, we’ll be overrun within the minute. No time for calls then.”

Dennis exhaled shakily as he dialed your number and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Dennis!” you greeted him from the other end of the line. “Is everything okay?”

He couldn’t help but smile softly at the sound of your voice. After the headbutt incident, you’d seen each other a total of three times. For your jobs, that was a lot but the quick smiles and glances whenever you passed by each other could only do so much. It was safe to say that he missed you.

“Hey, doc,” he said, softly, dreading having to tell you what he was calling for. “I think we’re gonna have to do a rain-check for our date later. I’m really sorry, I’ve been looking forward to it all week bu–”

“No, none of that,” you said, reassuringly. A kitchen timer goes off in the background, your scramble to turn it off heard loud and clear on Dennis’s end. “I saw the pile-up on the news. I understand, please don’t apologize.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that the overtime and cancelled plans came with the job and he knew it wasn’t his fault. But the thought of you going through all the trouble of cooking and getting ready for a dinner date that was never going to happen made his stomach twist with guilt.

“I just want you to know that this date was all I thought about this week,” he said, sadly. “I really did want to come over and spend time with you.”

“I could still go and see you?”

Dennis’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I c–”

“First two arrivals! Twenty-three year-old male and twenty-four year-old female!”

He swore before bringing the phone back to his ear. “I’ll call you again later,” he said, quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He hung up before you could wish him good luck.

-

When you saw the news of the accident on the news, wishful thinking kept you going. Of course, you knew better but maybe, just maybe, your favorite resident had already clocked out and was on his way to your apartment.

You got the call just as the oven went off.

You didn’t hold it against him. It was his job, after all, and it was out of his control. But he just sounded so sad on the phone, it didn’t seem right to just eat the food you made and pack the leftovers for tomorrow.

So, now, you were staring at the food on the counter wondering if you had enough to-go containers to fit everything. Were you overstepping and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of him and the entire ED staff? Maybe.

“A risk I’m willing to take,” you muttered to yourself as you carefully loaded the containers into your car. “For true love, I guess.”

08:00 P.M.

Everyone could sense the miserable energy radiating off of Dennis. Like, even more than usual. Everyone knew why, of course, it was the only thing anyone in the ER talked about in the last few days. Shy mousy farmboy Dr. Whitaker scoring a date with the cute PT on the day they met? It was news to everyone.

If they had gotten off on time, Trinity had enlisted the help of Samira and Javadi to help Dennis get ready for his big date, much to Dennis’s embarrassment. He secretly appreciated it, but they didn’t need to know that. They’d tried inviting Mel but she’d politely declined, saying she had to take care of her sister, but not before making them promise to tell her about everything.

“Hey, farmboy,” Trinity said, quietly, coming up to him after they’d just stabilized a patient. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“Huh? Oh, right,” he replied, clearing his throat. “It’s alright, really. No big deal.”

“Right. Does that explain why you’ve been miserymaxxing for the past hour–”

“Okay, first of all, never say that again,” Dennis said, holding a finger up to stop her. “And, second, fine, yes! I feel shitty about cancelling.”

“I’m sure she understands,” Trinity said, giving him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “She wasn’t mean about it on the phone, was she?”

He laughed humorlessly. “The opposite, actually. Made me feel even worse.”

She laughed, making Dennis send her a small glare. “You’ll live, Huckleberry,” she said with a small grin. “She likes you. I’m sure she’d be more than down to reschedule.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, tiredly. “Is it going to be like this forever?”

Trinity had to stop herself from full-on cackling at her roommate’s expression. “C’mon, Huckleberry. We’ve got some more lives to save.”

09:00 P.M.

The wave of patients eventually turned into a trickle before things were back to normal in the ER. Dennis sighed as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked alongside Trinity out of the double doors into chairs. He clicked on your contact and pressed his phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he greeted, surprised you picked up after one ring. “Just got off my shift. I’m sorry again about c–”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep saying sorry.”

“Do you want to reschedule? I’m off this Wednesday.”

“Oh, we don’t have to reschedule.”

Dennis swore he felt his heart fall out his ass. Maybe you didn’t like him as much as Trinity thought. “Oh. Um, okay.”

You heard the change in his tone and panicked. “No, Den, I didn’t mean it like that!” you squeaked, quickly rolling down the window of your car. “We don’t have to reschedule because I’m kind of… already here.”

The small beep from your car quickly caught the attention of the two residents. You locked eyes with Dennis and gave him a small wave as the two of them jogged over.

“What are you doing here?” Dennis asked in disbelief. “Did you drive all the way here? Even with the acc–”

Trinity elbowed him in the shoulder, making you laugh. “You can lecture me all you want later, Dr. Whitaker,” you said, chuckling. “But, I came to see you, of course.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his eyes softening.

“I wanted to and, besides–” you pointed your thumb at the backseat “–brought enough to feed a few residents.”

“Oh, you’re the best,” Trinity said, her eyes widening. “Hey, guys!”

Trinity called the rest of the day-shift over as you got out of your car and handed them the containers. You must’ve heard a hundred ‘thank you’s before they eventually walked over to the park across the PTMC. Leaving you and Dennis with the last two containers of food.

“Hey, hotshot,” you said, giving him a small nudge. “Want to help a girl out and find a nice bench away from your co-workers?”

“Gladly.”

-

“Was your shift okay?”

You saw his shoulders sag before he shook his head. “Not exactly dinner date topic material but, no, it was not okay,” he winced. “The first two patients that came in… the EMTs said their car was in the worst shape out of all of them.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He thought about it for a bit before shaking his head. “I don’t want to bum you out with the details,” he said with a sad smile. “Besides– oh, I think right here is perfect.”

He gently brushed the leaves from the tabletop before setting down everything he was carrying on it. This was not how you expected your weekend to go. You thought you’d be watching a movie with Dennis on your couch by now but instead he was pulling your chair out for you on a random chess table in the park. The soft glow from the lamps and the soft breeze that blew through the park did little to calm both Dennis’s and your racing hearts.

“How much food did you make?” he asked, incredulously, as you cracked open one of the containers. “Didn’t you already give away five of these?”

You shushed him as you pushed a loaded plate in his direction. “Doesn’t matter,” you said, making him chuckle. “Just eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled fondly as he basically inhaled his plate with the speed of a resident who probably only had an energy bar for lunch. He must’ve noticed because he flushed and wiped his mouth before chewing his food more slowly.

“This is really good, by the way,” he said, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, smiling back. “I didn’t spend hours cooking just to come up with something that tasted like shit.”

The mention of the time you spent cooking makes Dennis’s stomach twist in guilt again. “I’m really sorry today turned out like this.”

You sighed and reached over to grab his hand, running your thumb back and forth over his, reassuringly. The little jolt of energy that ran up your fingers surprised the both of you.

“Hey, I’m just glad I get to spend time with you, okay?” you said, smiling. “This is more than enough.”

“You deserve a real date,” he said, a little sadly. “Not saying this isn’t a real date! But you deserve more than this.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on. “I just don’t want to mess this up, you know?” he said, with a sad laugh. “I really like you and it would really suck if this didn’t work out.”

“Well, you said you had Wednesday off?” you asked, smiling softly. “I heard there’s a new coffee place downtown.”

He smiled back and gave your hand a small squeeze. “Maybe we could grab some coffee together after you clock out? The pastries are on me.”

“It’s a date.”

You both smiled and reluctantly let go of each other’s hand to get back to eating. The two containers of food eventually emptied and you grabbed a beer from the six-pack you brought, setting it in front of him.

“Also… you like me?” you asked, grinning.

You’d never seen anyone turn redder than Dennis was at that moment.

“Shit, I did say that, didn’t I?” he said, laughing nervously. “Is it bad that I do?”

“I don’t go around bringing dinner to guys I don’t like, Dennis,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “So, no, it’s not a bad thing. That was the best case scenario, actually.”

He laughed as he took a sip of beer. “You still shouldn’t have driven here, by the way,” he said, trying to be serious. “You know, with the accident and all. I’d hate to see you in the ED. Again.”

“Aww, not even for consults?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, trying not to smile too wide. “Stay home next time.”

“I couldn’t help it. You just sounded so sad.”

“You can just say you missed me.”

You scoffed as Dennis smirked a little behind his beer can. “You’re pushing it, hotshot,” you warned, feeling the warmth on your cheeks. “So, what if I did? I could say the same about you. Just ten minutes ago, you were seconds away from grovelling–”

“I was not!” he said, laughing in disbelief.

“You so were!

The playful banter continued, both of you completely oblivious to the small crowd of three peeking from behind one of the bushes.

“Ugh, barf,” Trinity whispered. “They’re so in love with each other, it’s gross.”

“Apartment walls are pretty thin,” Javadi said with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe you and Garcia have some competition.”

“Eww, can we not!” Samira said, her nose scrunching at the thought. “I don’t need to hear about my co-workers’ sex lives.”

Pictures of you and Dennis were taken, I fear. Perlah and Princess would be eating this up in the morning.

10:00 P.M.

Despite the protests, you gave Dennis a ride home. The poor guy fell asleep as soon as he finished typing out his and Trinity’s shared address on your phone. You made sure to drive extra carefully to not wake him. Your favorite resident deserved the rest.

Dennis’s small snores slowly ceased, blinking awake just as you pulled into his apartment complex’s parking lot.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” you hummed, slowly coming to a stop. You smiled fondly as you took in the sight of him: messy hair, bleary eyes, and a small smile on his face at the nickname.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “I owe you.”

“You really don’t,” you said, chuckling as you shook your head. “I had fun tonight. Thank you.”

Silence washed over you two.

“So, um…” Dennis swallowed. “Goodbye, I guess?”

You laughed, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Bye, Dennis,” you said, softly. “Have a good night.”

None of you budged, waiting for the other to make the first move. Dennis was now suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you two were alone, all the sleep in his system now gone. You also noticed the way his eyes were darting from yours to your lips. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that you were doing the same.

As if on cue, both of you rushed to lean forward, causing both your foreheads and teeth to bump into each other. You both hissed, clutching your own foreheads and laughing a little as you checked each other for any injuries.

“We should really stop with the almost-concussions,” he said, laughing as he scanned your face one last time. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I sent you to the ER.”

You laughed, leaning in closer. “Do you want to try that again?”

The two of you slowly leaned towards each other until your lips touched. He slowly brought his hand up to rest on your cheek as you deepened the kiss. Dennis let out a muffled groan before you both pulled away to breathe.

“Whoa,” he said, breathing heavily. “You’re good at that.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you said, giving him a shove to hide how flustered you felt. “Get out of my car, you’re making me feel all icky and gooey inside.”

He laughed and slung his bag over his shoulder, slowly getting out of the passenger seat. “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will. See you this Wednesday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He stayed by the apartment complex entrance waving until your car was completely out of sight. Sighing contentedly, he turned around and entered the building. He’d entered the apartment only to be bombarded with questions from Trinity and… Javadi on FaceTime?

He’d told them about most of the date, leaving the part where you kissed out. Dennis wanted to keep that to himself for now. As he was getting ready for bed, he heard his phone ding. A text from you.

from: doc headbutt sent: 10:38 p.m.

just got home!! thank u again for today <33 good night and get some rest xx

He smiled. Maybe today wasn’t so bad.

(a/n): hope you guys enjoyed the third installment of PT Notes !! thank you for all the kind words on the last two. off to disappear again for a week to focus on school but please feel free to blow up my ask box with reqs or ideas for future fics 🫶 may be posting request guidelines in the near future so please look out for that !! + ideas for a langdon x reader are floating around in my primordial brain soup but no promises !!

taglist: @bubiblossom, @amart-e, @lov3r-1, @mayemperess, @lunadi1una, @accountforreading123, @sweetpeachrings, @darling-289, @aliibat, @loverbyfate, @literallysuestorm, @xoxo-aubs, @kissesofstars, @automaticpatroltragedy, @crazzzyyyy, @love4lando

Dennis knows you’re hot, obviously. Everyone with eyes knows that you’re hot. He still sometimes can’t believe the fact that he gets to date someone like you, even though you’ve been together for years at this point. You were working in a clinic that he did one of his first medical school rotations at, and for whatever reason, you had liked him. 

You got a job at PTMC a year later, and you absolutely loved the fast-paced chaos that was the ER and ICU. 

When it came time for Dennis to spend a few months at the trauma centre he decided to set some ground rules, not wanting anyone to give him special treatment because they knew he was dating one of their best respiratory therapists. No, he wanted to establish himself as a good student on his own, and he didn’t want to risk anyone making fun of you for being with him, not that he told you about that reason. 

You had agreed, hesitantly, but ultimately thought that it made sense to keep things at work strictly professional. 

At first, that had been fine. You actually spent the vast majority of your time in the ICU, since the patients up there typically needed more oversight regarding ventilation settings, and most of the doctors in the ER were more than capable of handling emergent intubations on their own. The two of you didn’t even cross paths for the first couple weeks that he was working in the ER, which was different from when he was doing internal medicine and admitting patients to the ICU frequently. 

October 30th, 2024

“Fifty-eight year old male, severe SOB and throat swelling, sats eighty-eight on non-rebreather,” The paramedic says, wheeling a gurney thorough the ambulance bay doors. 

“Whitaker!” Samira calls, and he races over, holding his stethoscope so it doesn’t fall as he moves. 

“Temp thirty-nine, difficulty swallowing, HPV,” The paramedic continues. “History of type two diabetes, hypertension, and obstructive sleep apnea.”

The patient is propped up on the gurney, not laying fully back, likely because he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he did so. Samira counts down when they make it to the trauma room, hands moving the patient onto the hospital bed. She asks the patient for his name as Whitaker starts his exam, shifting between nurses as they try to figure out what’s going on. He shines his penlight into the man’s mouth, swallows some mild panic, then speaks. 

“Drooling, significant submandibular swelling, limited mouth opening,” He says. “Unable to visualize the posterior pharynx, reduced neck extension.”

Mel has her stethoscope to the man’s back, listening carefully. “Lungs sound clear, but we’ve got significant stridor.”

Dennis takes a piece of gauze to wipe away some drool from the patient’s mouth. “Unable to handle secretions.”

“Sats decreasing,” Princess says. “Down to eighty-two.”

“Okay, we’re gonna’ need to intubate, and fast,” Samira says. “Mel, you’re up.”

Mel orders ketamine and rocuronium, then positions herself by the patient’s head. It becomes extremely obvious that this intubation won’t be easy, but Mel attempts it anyway. 

“There’s a lot of swelling,” She says. 

“Where’s Robby?” Samira asks, and one of the nurses leaves to go find him. The video laryngoscope is inserted, but Mel genuinely can’t see anything on the screen. Sedation starts to kick in, and the patient goes limp. 

“I can’t visualize the epiglottis,” Mel says, her voice still calm, but Dennis can see a small amount of panic in her expression as she attempts to insert the tube. “I can’t get it in.”

“Okay, first pass failed,” Samira adds, keeping everyone in the room up to speed. She takes a closer look at the screen, shaking her head. “Page respiratory and surgery, stat.”

Samira gives the intubation a try, but she can’t pass the tube either, and the patient is desatting quickly. “Where the hell is Robby?”

“Stuck with another patient,” Mateo says, replacing the bag over the patient’s face, squeezing it every few seconds. 

Rushed footsteps echo across the linoleum floors from outside, and Dennis looks up just in time to see you push the door to the room open, the badge that reads your name and ‘RT’ over a purple background swinging back and forth from your sprint to the department. Dennis sees the way the room relaxes, thanking god that you’re the responding respiratory therapist.

He also sees how good you look. 

You don’t have an undershirt on for once, and the slight v-neck of your scrubs shows off a bit more skin than usual. You somehow manage to make hospital issued scrub pants look amazing, and if he didn’t know any better he would think that they had been tailored to your body. The fabric shows off the curve of your ass perfectly. 

“What’s up?” You ask, grabbing a pair of gloves, slipping into them as you move to the head of the bed. 

“Fifty-eight year old male, severe mouth and neck swelling, two failed intubation attempts,” Mel explains. “Sats down to seventy.”

You do a brief exam, hands feeling up the sides of his neck and jaw, then you look inside his mouth, nodding. 

“Okay, I need more pillows under his head, prop him up more,” You say. “Ears to sternal notch alignment, please.”

You take hold of the mask that Mateo was keeping pressure on, using both hands to seal it around the patient’s face as he continues to squeeze the bag. Garcia opens the door to the room, taking in the situation. 

“What’s up, party people?” She asks, looking at the patient’s face. “Yikes, we should crike.”

“You know me better than that,” You counter, shifting your arms out of the way as Jesse packs pillows and blankets underneath the patients head. “Can’t let you surgeons have all the fun.”

“What’s your plan here, hot shot?” She asks, an emphasis on hot that makes Dennis look up. 

“Let’s add a PEEP valve, ten centimetres,” You say, and Mel jumps into action, grabbing the piece that you’ve asked for and fitting it to the mask. “I need someone on suction, too.”

“Yep, got it,” Dennis says, scrambling a bit with the tube, his hands shaking ever-so-slightly. You’re calmer than everyone else in the room. 

“Sats up to ninety-two,” Princess says, eyes flicking over the monitor. 

He doesn’t miss the way you look at Garcia, a small smirk on your face as she holds her hands up, letting you work. 

“Okay, let’s try intubation again with a bougie,” You say. “Don’t stop with that suction, Whitaker. Princess, can you take over for me?”

The nurse takes your place, positioning her hands over the mask exactly how yours had been. Jesse hands you the laryngoscope, which you toy with for a second, turning the light on and making sure you can see the monitor. Princess pulls the mask off once you’re in place, and you slide it into the patient's mouth. 

“Dr. Mohan, can you put some pressure right here.” You put your free hand on the patient’s neck, and Samira moves to copy the action. “Good, right against the thyroid cartilage. Press towards the spine.”

Samira follows the instructions with ease, doing exactly what you’ve asked. 

“Up and to the patient’s right a bit,” You add, keeping your eyes on the monitor as you hold steady. Samira adjusts. “Okay, perfect, hold it there. Bougie.”

You take the bougie in hand, and Dennis keeps the suction going, trying to keep the field clear of fluids. You don’t look at the screen for a moment, sliding it past the tracheal rings on feel alone, and then you glance back over, confirming the placement. Jesse hands you the tube when you reach your hand out, and you slip it over the bougie, inserting it into the airway. Dennis watches it on the monitor, a rush of pride swelling over him. 

“I’m in,” You say, pulling the bougie out. Mateo attaches the bag to the end of the tube, and the monitor’s beeping comes to a stop as his sats hold steady. "Yellow on end-tidal."

“Sats up to ninety-eight,” Mel says, turning to look at you. “That was awesome.”

She raises her hand, giving you a high-five, which makes you grin. 

“Thanks for the assist,” Samira adds, the sentence punctuated by your last name. The door between the trauma rooms open, revealing Robby, who’s eyes instantly land on you. 

“Robby,” You greet. 

“Oh, good,” He says. “She got your airway, I assume?”

“Sure did,” Samira says. 

“She always does,” Robby says. “What’s going on?”

Dennis doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail up and down over your figure. Mel can’t look away from you either, eyes snapping between Robby and your chest. He watches her squeeze them shut for a moment, shaking her head lightly to bring herself back to the case. You pull your gloves off as you walk over to the door, turning to Garcia before you leave. 

“When will you learn to stop underestimating me?” You ask, teasingly. 

“Never,” Garcia shoots back, a flirtatious smile on her lips. “Keeps you sharp.”

You roll your eyes, then leave the room without a second thought, tossing your gloves into the garbage outside. Dennis stares at the doorway until he hears Robby ask Samira what she plans on doing next. 

After that it became extremely clear that everyone in the ER thought you were hot, which Dennis couldn’t blame them for, but it still bugged him. Peoples eyes lingered on you a little too long whenever you were around, movements a second delayed because they were too busy thinking about you. It didn’t matter if you were just checking on a ventilated patient or trying to intubate a critical case, people were always watching. 

They also talked about you. 

Like, a lot.

It was driving Dennis insane. 

And after ten months he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You were elated when he landed an emergency medicine residency at PTMC, as was he, but it also meant that he had to keep watching people pine after you. 

The Fourth of July—a dreaded day in the emergency room, one that both of you were working. One of the boarders who had been waiting for an ICU bed desatted an hour into the day, resulting in your subsequent page and arrival to the department. Dennis comes out of a patient’s room, Ogilvie and Joy behind him, to you leaning against the nurses desk, laughing at something Dana had said. 

He almost stops walking at the sight. 

Your hair isn’t fully pulled back, the lower half out and styled perfectly around your jaw and shoulders. The top half is tied up, slightly frizzed. You’re wearing the typical navy blue scrubs with a white long-sleeve underneath, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, your forearms tensed as you brace yourself against the desk. 

“Oh, Whitaker and friends,” Dana says, gesturing for him to come over, then she says your name. “These are some of our new med students.”

Ogilvie moves so fast it makes Dennis’ head spin. 

“Hi, James Ogilvie,” He says, outstretching his hand for you to shake, an obviously flirtatious smile on his face. “MS4.”

You raise an eyebrow, shaking his hand as you say your name. “Respiratory. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, this is Joy,” Dennis says, and she gives you a wave. It might be the most enthusiastic thing she’s done all morning. 

“She’s one of our best RT’s,” Dana adds. “Can intubate pretty much anyone.”

“Very good to know,” Ogilvie says, still smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smile back, completely friendly, no undertones. “Our entire team is great, don’t ever hesitate to page. We’re happy to help out. I have a patient, but again, nice meeting you.”

You turn away from them, your badge colliding with the desk, unclipping from your shirt and clattering to the floor. You huff in annoyance, bending over to pick it up. You’re flexible enough to not have to bend your knees much at all, a fact that Dennis knows very well, but the back of your shirt rides up just as your scrub pants shift, and he catches a glimpse of your hot pink thong. 

Yolanda emerges from one of the rooms behind Dennis, a low whistle leaving her lips when she sees you, not hesitating to walk over as you stand back up. 

“Nice thong, hot shot,” She says, and your hand collides with her shoulder in a playful push. You pull the waistband of your pants up, tug your shirt down, clip your badge back on and walk away. Trinity appears in Dennis' peripheral, a smirk on her face and arms folded over her chest as she looks to where you just were. Even Dana’s eyes are wide, and she takes a second before speaking. 

“Show’s over,” She says, referring to the handful of people who look like they just saw a ghost, frozen in place. 

“Holy shit,” Ogilvie mumbles, and Dennis can finally move again, hands reaching for a tablet so he can pull up a patient’s chart—any chart. “Please tell me she’s single.”

Dennis isn’t sure if the question is directed at him, but Dana answers before he can open his mouth. 

“Unfortunately not, Ogilvie,” She says, eyes now focused on her computer, glasses on. 

Trinity pipes up. “Yeah, you’d probably be the five hundredth med student she’s rejected if you asked her out, trust me.”

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t single,” James insists. “Maybe she just wasn’t interested in those other med students.”

Trinity clicks her tongue behind her teeth. “Nah, she’s in a relationship, trust me. No one turns down that many people without so much as a stutter unless they’re already spoken for.”

A trauma comes in a few hours later, a smoke inhalation patient. They’re coding upon arrival, one of the paramedics straddling the gurney as they’re wheeled in, instantly gaining Robby’s attention. 

“Whitaker, with me,” He says, which means Ogilvie and Joy follow as well. “Page respiratory.”

“We don’t mess around with smoke inhalation,” Dennis says. “Always get RT down here as soon as you can, those airways swell like crazy.”

“As long as it’s that RT from earlier,” Ogilvie says. 

Dennis says your name, followed by “and listen when they introduce themselves.”

“How was I suppose to listen when she looks like that?” He asks. Dennis wants to punch him. 

“You’re disgusting,” Joy says. 

“What?” Ogilvie asks. “You thought she was hot, too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t hear me talking about it.”

The trauma room fills up quickly, and you arrive just as they move the patient onto the mattress, still doing compressions. Dennis doesn’t miss the way Ogilvie looks at Joy when you walk in, completely oblivious to the small interaction. 

“Talk to me,” You say, gloving up. 

Robby gives you the summary, finishing up just as Dennis takes over on compressions. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your breath catching in your throat for half a second. His biceps push against his scrubs, his chain dangling in front of him, the way it does when he’s fucking you. 

“We—we should intubate right away,” You say, turning back to Robby. 

“You read my mind,” He says, and you move quickly. The intubation goes relatively smoothly, all things considered, but the patient remains in asystole. 

Robby says your last name, making you look at him. “Switch with Ogilvie.”

You nod, letting Donnie take over with the bag, positioning yourself over the patient and pushing into their chest hard. The arterial waveform spikes sharply on the monitor, dipping as you allow the chest to recoil, then peaks again when you push back down. 

“Now that is how you do chest compressions,” Robby says. “Ogilvie, Joy, take notes.”

“Gladly,” Ogilvie whispers, happy to have an opportunity to stare at you. 

“Rhythm check,” Dennis says, glancing at his watch. You stop, lifting your hands off the patient’s chest, looking towards the monitor. 

“V-fib,” You say, at the same time Dennis does, too. You don’t look at him, but a small smile forms on your face, which makes his heart jump. 

“Charge to two-hundred,” He says, picking up the paddles and placing them on the chest. “Clear!”

Normal sinus returns after the shock, making the room collectively exhale. Dennis steps back, putting the paddles away, just as you try to squeeze past him to get to the exit, your services no longer needed. He finds himself taking a small step forward, leaving you with a smaller gap than anticipated, resulting in your ass brushing against his crotch. 

“Sorry, ‘scuse me,” You murmur, but you don’t really mean it. Dennis has to stop himself from grabbing your hips. “Page if you need me.”

“Oh, we will,” Robby says. 

By the time the patient is stabilized you’re back in the department, just to check on something, but you’ve been roped into a conversation with Samira and Victoria by the water fountain. You’re playing with the cap on your water bottle, fingers flicking it open and closed repeatedly as Dennis walks out of the trauma room. 

He’s sanitizing his hands when your water bottle decides to protest the action, a stream of water shooting up and out of the straw as you pull it open again, landing all over the front of your top. Victoria and Samira gasp, as do you. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Ogilvie asks, and Dennis feels like he’s rooted to his spot as the med student steps closer to you, assessing the damage. Your entire shirt is soaked.

You let out a slightly humiliated laugh, waving him off. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just…cold.”

Your fingers grip the bottom of the shirt, yanking it over your head, revealing your almost equally wet undershirt. You frown when you look down, accepting a handful of tissues from Samira and starting to blot at the fabric. 

Everyone in the immediate vicinity comes to a halt, eyes landing on you, his girlfriend, who’s standing in the middle of the room with your nipples on full display. Dennis is pretty sure you’re not wearing a bra, or at least not one of much substance, and that fact is obvious to those around him, too. Robby and Dr. Al-Hashimi stop mid conversation, both of them craning their necks to see what’s going on. Mel drops the pen she’s holding to the ground, the clattering sound ringing in his ears. The patients that line the walls are watching, unable to look away as you scrub the front of your shirt with tissues, completely unaware of what you’ve just done. 

The nurses go silent. Cassie comes out of a patient’s room, feet stopping instantly, and Frank almost runs into her. 

Something between possession and protection override his jealousy, forcing him to move towards you, stepping directly in front of your chest as he puts his hands on your biceps. You look up at him, then you glance over his shoulder, noticing how quiet everything has gotten. 

“Come on,” He says, plucking a few more tissues from the box and holding them against your barely exposed cleavage and chest. You don’t react at all, as though his hand has been there a million times—because it has. 

He pushes you towards the bathroom, locking the door behind the both of you. Trinity is the first to speak. 

“She’s dating Huckleberry?”

This seems to snap everyone else out of their daze, and people scramble to get back to work, acting as though they didn’t all just collectively lose their minds over a wet t-shirt like a bunch of twelve year olds. 

Your cheeks are hot, but you still find yourself making a joke. 

“Guess they know we’re dating now,” You say, smiling. He exhales, a tiny laugh escaping. 

“Or they think I’m a creep,” He counters, and you laugh this time. He takes his own scrub top off, revealing the tan t-shirt he has underneath and his silver chain, the one that you bought for him on his most recent birthday. “Arms up.”

You listen, raising your arms and letting him pull your shirt off, revealing your lace bralette. He swallows, passing you his scrub top before moving towards the hand dryer that sits on the opposite wall, sticking your shirt underneath it. 

You grab a few paper towels, dabbing at the spots on your pants. Dennis frowns at the practically non-existent flow of air from the dryer, shaking his head. 

“Pass me your scrub top,” He says, hand outstretched. You do, dropping the ball of fabric into his palm. “I’ll be right back.”

He unlocks the door, pushing it open, stepping back out into the department. Things have mostly returned to normal, but Dennis doesn’t miss the way the small group of people at central go quiet when he reappears, quickly trying to act as though they’ve been working this whole time. He sighs, walking over to the scrubs machine, unclipping your badge and tapping it to the sensor. 

He inserts your old top, then dispenses a new one. He raps his knuckles against the bathroom door, smiling when you pull it open, letting him back inside. You, begrudgingly, give him his own shirt back, sliding the navy blue top on while he does the same with the black one. 

“Thank you,” You say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would…”

You trail off, exhaling sharply, your lips curving up in a disbelieving smile. “Be such an issue.”

Dennis shakes his head, grabbing you by your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

“Not your fault,” He says. “But…maybe wear a better bra from now on, hey?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely a good idea,” You agree. 

Everyone has moved on by the time you open the door, and you walk towards the exit, pager already going off again. Dennis watches you go, so do a few others. 

“See you at home!” You call over your shoulder, and Dennis’ cheeks turn pink.