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 made 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.

And then during one unremarkable shift, Robby finds some of his staff...lingering outside one particular room. Some of them cast sideways glances at each other, and then quickly disperse when Robby lopes into view. He stares at them as they scatter, and he decides that he's not going to let this one rest.

The patient they were loitering around is a sweet young man, mumbling and flushed red when Robby gently enquires as to the mechanism of injury. Dennis haltingly reveals that a partner was stupid with the handcuffs they were using and ended up dislocating his shoulder and accidentally scraping off a good layer of skin while trying to course correct.

Robby feels bad for the kid - Dennis' - clear embarrassment.

"Oh, I don't even think this is the strangest thing we're going to see in the next hour, let alone this week. Don't worry, nobody here is judging you."

He fucking hopes to god he hasn't misjudged his own staff, because those few lingering stares and whispers bother Robby more than he'd like to admit. It isn't like his team.

But then Dennis beams such a grateful, sweet smile up at Robby, like his one stupid, throwaway line (one that he's used hundreds of times before on other embarrassed patients, and he suddenly feels guilty about that for some reason) was a lifeline thrown to him while the waves threatened to drown him. Robby returns the smile awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortable with the overwhelming gratitude.

It isn't until Jack comes and Robby hands over the day's work, that light is shed on his team's behaviour.

"Listen, you may wanna keep an eye on south sixteen."

"Why? Combative?"

"Him? No, he won't give you any trouble, he's a sweetheart. It's just that some of the crew here have been - I dunno, man. Off. About him."

He briefly introduces Jack to Dennis as he hands over the case - tries to ignore Dennis' disappointment when Robby says he's leaving, and then equally tries to ignore the little blush that appears on his cheeks when Robby promises he's in good, steady hands with Jack.

Jack is polite and professional as ever, reassuring the kid he'll be back to check on him as soon as the results of his x-ray are back in.

"He's a sex-worker." The door to the empty breakroom is barely shut behind them before the words are leaving Jack's mouth, low and to the point.

"Okay?" He sounds stupid, he knows, but his brain hasn't quite caught up with what Jack is trying to say to him.

"He does porn, brother. That's probably why some of the staff are acting out. Anything that needs a write-up on your end?"

"Wh - no. No, it's not been anything more than some gossipy stares, but it needs nipping in the bud. I'll have a word with them - if they can't fix their faces after that, we'll go from there."

Jack nods, hands resting easily in his pockets.

"I'll do the same with my guys if it comes up - I'll let you know if we have any issues but I hope they can all be fucking grown-ups about it."

"If they're old enough to watch it, they're old enough to not be weird about it."

Jack huffs a laugh, pauses when he sees Robby eyeing him with something approaching a smirk.

"Having said that - you recognised him pretty quickly there, Jack."

Jack quirks and eyebrow, nothing more than a quick, sardonic little flick that never fails to get a smile out of Robby.