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He knows it’s wrong, they both know it’s wrong, but there’s something about how quick and dirty and unspoken it is that leaves a burning need in Dennis’ chest — specifically when he makes the right call in Trauma 2 that saves a patient’s life under Robby’s watch.

He still gets a little shaky with adrenaline when that happens, so before his next patient he slips into the break room to lean against the counter with a steadying little breath, closing his eyes to focus on slowing his racing heart before allowing a tiny smile to grace his face. He did it.

He hears the door open and close, doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is, not when he feels a warm and tall body suddenly pressing against his back. Robby can’t wear cologne at work, he doesn’t even know if Robby wears any at all, but Dennis still knows the scent of him, especially this close.

“Good call, Whitaker,” Robby murmurs, his voice so soft and deep, so full of pride it makes Dennis melt a little. Or a lot.

But, the hands on his waist make his cheeks turn pink, especially when they squeeze the small of it before sliding up, hot palms pressing through his scrubs like a brand, the touch so quick yet lingering as Robby grabs both of his pecs in his hands and gives them a slow squeeze.

Dennis swallows down a moan, his throat thick and slow, keeping his eyes closed as he feels those hands slide down, back to his waist, squeezing his hips, leaving a trail of warmth and pride before Robby’s grabbing his ass, digging his fingertips into the fatty muscle there with both hands.

“You did so good,” Robby hums his praise, his lips brushing Dennis’ ear, makes heat pool low in his gut as Robby reaches one hand around, cups his dick and balls and squeezes both, like he can’t help it.

Dennis breathes out slow, the sound bordering on a whine, wanting to press back against Robby—

But, as always, it’s over before Dennis wants it to be. Those large hands are suddenly gone and then Robby is, too, slipping out of the break room with the softest click of the door.

Dennis opens his eyes, the want in his body throbbing so hard that his eyes line with tears, still feeling the warm trails those hands had made across his body as he wonders if Robby is torturing him on purpose. Maybe he’ll never know.

he collapses and sobs until he gags, he cries and he hits things, denting the wall in places and smashing a glass all over the kitchen tile. he sees dennis there, standing close and looking upset, in the corner of his eye as he falls to pieces. if he had the capacity, he'd feel remorseful that he's putting his favourite intern through this, that such a kind and pretty boy was having to see him crash and burn in the worst way possible. but he doesn't have the strength.

he mourns the fact that dennis will surely run, take his leave, report his lack of stability to the hospital. his grief at losing this young man in his life only adds to his cries and his anger and his upset, and he ends up curled in a ball and catatonic, gasping for air as he spasms from all the crying. it's left him dehydrated and with a migraine, and eventually he passes out on the hardwood floor. he can see a blurry image of dennis's feet in his vision as he blacks out, and he hates that that's the last he'll ever see of the boy. he's ruined every last thing.

he wakes up fourteen hours later, confused and weak. he's exhausted from the sobs and his hands ache from the bruises from his destruction of the wall. he doesn't understand how he's in his bed or how his jacket is gone, or how his knuckles have been cleaned and bandaged. there's water and painkillers on the side table, and the mess has been cleared up.

there's a knock on the door after a while, and robby's eyes widen and he's frozen when dennis walks through the door. he looks a little tired, but he's dressed comfortably and holds warm toast and soup on a tray. he smiles at robby, and its a sad smile.

robby can't help but feel tears blur his eyes again, reasoning with the fact that dennis saw it all- saw him screaming and swearing and punching, saw him sobbing until he couldn't breathe and passed out, saw him so unbearably ugly, and stayed. he didn't run and tell or judge. he tucked robby into bed, treated his wounds, and cooked him warm food.

hucklerobby makeout sesh (with tongue) | request for anon (I'm still taking requests! Send me an ask!)