Mary

I need that the Spanish-speaking fandom of “The Pitt” understand the reference (familia peluche)

A sneak peek of my current Hucklerobby project, huzzah!

For fanfiction:

"You look lonely, I can fix that "

It takes him a minute to realize that's what's happening. Of course, they all send the Dennis pics along with texts and photos of other people. Sometimes Whitaker's in a group shot, or caught in the background of a selfie. It takes Robby a beat to realize that the pattern is Dennis-centric.

It only occurs to him that it's deliberate after a pic from Dana. At first, Dana sends weekly updates about the Pitt and an occasional word of support. Lets him know the Pitt's not on fire without him there to put it out. Then, after he's been gone a month, the first week of September, she sends a shot of Dennis at the backyard barbecue she hosts on Labor Day each year. Whitaker is wearing shorts, armed with a squirt gun, laughing, a passle of little kids crawling all over him. The accompanying text just says: missed u at the bbq this year boss. Casual, like Dana didn't just send him an image custom designed to hit him right smack in the Daddy issues.

Robby almost drops his phone. 

Pretty soon, they're all doing it. Week five, McKay sends a question about some paperwork and a picture of herself, Dennis and Mateo in the park after work. Then, Dennis apparently does a week of Night Shift because Shen sends a selfie with Dennis, each holding enormous Dunkin iced coffees. Javadi sends him a group shot that so happens to have Dennis front and center of the Pittlings, captioned that they all miss him. Princess sends a candid pic of Dennis and Jack, heads together during change over. Dennis is gesturing to something on a chart and Jack is listening with a slight frown of concentration. They're standing with the same stance. They look like two of the same letters in a slightly different font. Robby is struck by how similar they are from that angle and he ignores they way his stomach clenches with suppressed desire for both of them. Mel King sends a shot of Dennis and Santos obviously doing a round of Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to do some sort of unpleasant procedure. Even Langdon, of all people, sends Robby a photo of Dennis leaning on the desk, arms crossed, caught for a split second between patients. The kid seems unaware of his picture being taken, probably looking up at the board. His shoulders and arms look absolutely magnificent. But that surely can't be the reason why Langdon sent it? 

If it were only a few people sending them, he would consider it a coincidence, but by the six week mark, it's almost everyone who is aquatinted with the both of them. Robby can't miss the pattern. It's quite clear, all his people think Robby wants to know how Dennis is doing in his absence.

He does want to know. 

Of course, he does, despite the fact that it makes him feel like the butt of a group joke. It's embarrassing actually. Realizing they all know he's infatuated with Dennis, Robby feels called out and transparent. Like everyone must think he's such a ridiculous, old perv to be pining over a young guy like that. Thinks they must be sending these texts to make fun of his pathetic "secret" crush that was apparently obvious to everyone in the ED (except maybe Dennis himself). He doesn't know how to respond to the pictures. Usually changes the subject and asks the sender how they're doing. Or sends a pic of the scenery from his road trip.

Naturally, Trinity Santos is the most egregious Dennis pic sender. Unlike the others, there is nothing about Santos's pictures that stays within the mentor/mentee bounds. Hers are far too personal to send the man's boss. She doesn't even bother to pair the pics with a question about emergency medicine. She sends a pic of Dennis singing karaoke in a bar, wearing a crop top and smeared black eyeliner. A week or so later, she sends a pic of Dennis at an outdoor concert, toasting the camera with a plastic cup of beer. The later summer sun has brought out the freckles across his nose. A week after that, it's a pic of Huckleberry hard at work out on what must be Amy's farm. He's wearing a faded blue T-shirt that perfectly matches his eyes, stained dark with sweat. Then, there's another shot of Dennis behind the wheel of the farm truck, wearing a battered, straw cowboy hat, grinning at something the photographer was saying or doing, that little gap in his teeth showing. A few days later, she sends one that shouldn't be as hot as it is, a scowling, grouchy Dennis, obviously hungover, hair a mess, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his pretty mouth, cooking breakfast while wearing nothing but a pair of dark sunglasses and some baggy blue boxer shorts. He's flipping off the camera. It makes Robby's heart do something strange when he realizes that one was taken in his own kitchen. Because of Santos, he sees sides of Dennis that he never gets to at work. 

There's nothing like that sent from Dennis himself, of course. Texts from him are a few carefully worded questions about the plants. Once, a question about working the dishwasher. Every week, he sends a picture of Robby's house plant collection, to show him they're all still alive and well. He sends occasional updates about Duke's post surgery recovery. It's all very Midwestern polite. Robby's replies are the same, professional and appropriate.

He suspects that poor, innocent Huckleberry has no clue his friends and co-workers are doing this to them. Robby wonders if Dennis would be embarrassed or angry about the photographic teasing if he knew. If he would be disgusted by Robby's inappropriate crush. It makes him cringe to think of Dennis finding out. Perhaps he should tell them to stop sending the pictures, but he doesn't. Can't quite address it directly because that would make it A Thing. 

It should be noted that Jack Abbot is suspiciously quiet during this whole pictorial onslaught. Though he's well aware of Robby's crush. In fact, Jack was the only person Robby openly spoke of Dennis to. Abbot sends no pics. Just a brotherly word or two, checking in around sunset each day. He thinks of calling Jack to say something about what the others are doing, find out if it's a prank, but just rehearsing the conversation in his mind is so awkward that he doesn't dare do it. 

After weeks of it, gradually, Robby starts to see how sweet all the messages really are. No one ever says "gotcha" or admits it's a gag. He begins to suspect it's not actually a joke, because people send him Dennis stories, too. They don't violate HIPAA by talking about the patients, but they all send little tales of Dennis's good deeds. His moments of kindness or brilliance. Robby comes to realize that it doesn't actually feel much like teasing, no one seems to be mocking either one of them. In fact, there's something endearing about the gesture.

To be known is to be loved, so people seeing his attraction to Dennis is maybe not such a bad thing after all? Perhaps this is their odd way of accepting and supporting him, inappropriate as it is to surveille his resident for him. 

They keep coming. Dennis petting a golden retriever on a coffeeshop patio. A slightly embarrassed Dennis appearing in one of Javadi's tiktoks. Dennis asleep on the too short sofa in the break room, a curling mustache drawn on his upper lip in what Robby hopes is eyeliner and not magic marker. Even Duke sends one, a shot of the two of them, both giving a thumbs up to the camera.

By the end of the second month, Robby has dozens of pics of Dennis saved to his phone, sent from atleast ten people. At that point, it feels a lot like they're all trying to lure Robby back home with adorable pictures of his favorite person. 

He starts to look forward to receiving them. Downloads each one that comes in. During lonely nights on the road, he looks through them all before sleep. The cowboy hat pic becomes his phone lock screen. Why not? There's no one out here to see it and tell on him. Or perhaps, because the "secret" is so obviously out now, he no longer feels ashamed of it, feels no need to keep hiding. There's still lingering guilt, because innocent Dennis has no idea.

But he does not turn the bike around and head home just yet. No, that comes after Jack finally sends his Dennis text. 

After they pull away from their first kiss, standing outside a seedy bar, breathing in each other’s cigarette stained breath, Dennis, leaning up, trying to chase another kiss, will mutter a desperate “Doctor Robby.”

When Dennis emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed, he found Robby sitting on the couch, glasses on his nose, a book in his hand. He was nestled into the corner of the cushions and the armrest, one elbow thrown over the back, his ankle crossed over his knee. Relaxed. Comfortable. Reading. An entirely normal activity. Mundane, even. Dennis’ face warmed anyway, because apparently he was incapable of seeing Robby just exist without blushing now. He filed this reaction away in the same place as his question of faith, amid the buzz of static and the unhurried intention to define these things eventually, just… later. 

The Car's in Reverse, ch. 28, by third_crow ( @itsfrthebirds )