Auggie

Daddy, daddy, da-addy!

It is a mantra, constant, as he wails.

But daddy is not there. He is hundreds of miles away. He cannot hear Dennis' wails, cannot see his face screwed up in anguish, and therefore, cannot comfort him.

So, Dennis continues to wail, not understanding why daddy will not come for him and comfort him.

Daddy. Daddy, please.

⋱ ― ♱ . MEDICAL REGRESSORS MIGHT LIKE... ♱ request from anon.

cute bandaids

plastic doctor toy kits

lollipops and suckers

scrubs with fun prints

lanyards with lots of pins and stickers

customizing mobility aids

helping pack care packages for people who are sick or not doing well

asking 'big' doctors all sorts of questions

vanilla icecream, particularly in a cone

putting together/setting up pill carriers and pill organizers

get well cards with silly puns on them

singing a song while washing their hands

doc mc stuffins series and toys!!!

(basically if robby thought dennis told langdon about his moment in pedes... but make it agere dennis and cg robby)

someone saw you in pedes. langdon's fucking voice rattled through robby's head as he stormed his way back into the ed. he ignored dana and jack, his eyes trained on the lonely boy in the middle of triage.

whitaker. robby called, his voice dropping and growing firm as he grabbed dennis by the elbow, practically dragging him back out to the isolated loading dock.

once alone, dennis gently pulled himself free, his eyes wide with growing panic and concern, dr. robby? is everything—dennis was suddenly cut off when robby grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a rough shake.

robby's voice grew loud—louder than dennis had ever heard. even if dennis had technically knew robby for about fifteen hours.

but it didn't make the overwhelming sense of fear any easier. the sudden change in volume made dennis' shoulders tense while his head felt as if it were being dunked underwater... oh god, not now. please, not now. dennis begged himself, his eyes slowly filling with unshed tears.

robby didn't seem to notice the change in dennis, only focused on shaking the younger man as the words spilled from his lips, i trusted you, whitaker. i trusted you and you tell fucking langdon?! i know you're only a student, but i expected more from you! this job isn't some fucking game show—this is people's lives and trust! and you've broken both. robby scolded and cursed, shaking dennis every few words.

b-but, robby, i d-didn't say anything, dennis managed to choke out, desperate to make robby understand before it was too late, i di-didn't say anything—i w-would never. p-please, you have to b-believe me! he sniffled, a few tears managing to escape his eyes.

dennis' words did little to ease robby. he's been lied to the entire night—the past few months because of langdon. robby didn't know what to believe anymore; but he wasn't going to allow himself to be swayed by the younger man's tears.

shut up. just shut up, whitaker. you're done. go home and we'll talk about your transfer tomorrow. robby huffed, gently pushing dennis back—the same way from pedes.

but when dennis stumbled back, his foot slipped and sent the poor man to the ground. landing on his arm, dennis instantly whimpered, quickly cradling his arm against his chest. he didn't dare move, squeezing his eyes shut as small sniffles filled the heavy silence.

shaking his head, dennis didn't stand a chance against his regression—he had been fighting the entire day, especially after the shooting.

without much warning, dennis felt light and unable to understand why his arm hurt or why robby was standing over him with a now confused gaze.

'm sworry, 'obby. 'm sworry, dennis blurted, his shoulders trembling with new cries and tears, n-not supposed to t-talk ab-about 'ou—d-didn't t-tell be-because m-made promise. he explained, remembering how he made an internal pinky promise after that moment in pedes.

remaining on the ground, dennis openly cried and whimpered. he tried to wipe his tears with a rough hand, curling in on himself whenever robby moved towards him.

d-don' wanna b-be sent 'way, 'obby. p'ease, d-don' send m-me 'way. dennis pleaded, unable to meet robby's eyes without wanting to burst into a new wave of tears.

dennis felt overwhelmed. he hated feeling overwhelmed when small. it brought unwanted memories of his pa in broken bow—how dennis was forced to sleep in the barn whenever he cried for too long. big boys don't cry over splinters, boy. and they sure as hell don't cry when putting down horses. his pa would often spit, shoving his youngest into the barn for the night.

or the same overwhelming feeling from past caregivers. the onslaught of punishments for the minor things. how isolated and hurt they often left dennis before deciding he was too much of an effort.

and now robby wanted to get rid of him. it tore dennis to shreds.

robby stared down at the frightened boy, his chest tightening when he heard how slurred dennis' speech had become. how he kept stumbling over the same words. how he looked more like a frightened boy than a man.

oh... oh. robby thought to himself, his own eyes widening at the sight of dennis on the ground, crying different apologizes and wet promises.

slowly, robby knelt down until he was beside dennis, keeping his hands visible and folded against his lap, dennis? robby gently called, using the same firmness he often used whenever a lonely little stumbled into the ed.

d-didn' t-tell l-lang'on—i p-pwomis'. dennis choked out, rubbing his eyes before he was suddenly lifted and secured on robby's lap. dennis felt that his big headspace would know what to do... but he was so small—so vulnerable and fragile. dennis couldn't do anything other than melt into robby's chest with new tears.

keeping dennis against his soft chest and tummy, robby placed a grounding hand on the nape of dennis' neck, oh denny, i'm so sorry. i'm sorry for yelling—little boys don't like yelling and i know how scary that must've been. i'm so sorry, little one. robby cooed, brushing his thumb under dennis' wet eyes.

s-scary, 'obby. d-don' like scary, 'obby. dennis sniffled and whimpered, reaching up to rub his nose when robby gently grabbed his wrist, no, no. no more wiping your nose—it's gonna be raw and all achy. you don't want that, hm? robby cooed, looking down at dennis' bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

shaking his head, dennis stared up at robby before hiding his face away once more, hi, little one, robby softly smiled, holding the back of dennis' head, i think it'd be best if you went home, ok? no, no, it's ok, denny-boy. i'm gonna call your caregiver and they'll come pick you up, ok?

b-but don' ha-have no one—l-live on, um, this floor. dennis babbled, holding up eight fingers with a proud grin. but his grin faltered when he saw how upset robby looked. not "mad" upset but sad.

before dennis could speak, robby shook his head, caressing dennis' cheek, ok, little one. how about this, would you like to come with me? we can leave right now, maybe pick up... robby trailed off, giving dennis a chance to voice what he wanted.

um, pi'za? dennis tried, his eyes brightening when robby nodded, good choice, denny. pizza it is, we'll go to my place and get this tummy filled. robby softly smiled, giving dennis’ tummy a gentle rub.

but when he tried to stand, dennis let out a small whine. robby instantly stilled, knowing what the little wanted, ok, ok, little one. no moving just yet. he whispered, chuckling when dennis tried to squirm underneath his scrubs, pressing his pale hands against robby's chest and plush tummy.

robby could already tell dennis wanted skin-to-skin. the younger seemed to be deep in his headspace, making robby bundled dennis closer until no space was between them.

oh, dennis. oh my special boy—it's ok. you'll get what you want when we're home. gonna get you everything you could ever want... just wanna keep you safe. robby cooed, listening as dennis' breathing slowed and his body gently slumped against his own.

oh bestieeeee!! you’re sooo right!!

when dennis is feeling really teeny-tiny, he spends most of his day napping in either robby’s arms or in his crib.

so it leads to robby making sure his little one has the proper time to stretch his limbs and warm his body after a deep nap. all right, baby, biiig stretch—very good. robby praised from his place on the edge of the bed.

dennis, still nestled deep in his regression, was laid out on the bed. he was dressed in his favorite cow onesie, pacifer bobbing between his lips and eyes still so sleepy. but the little one still stretched his arms above his head, flexing his legs.

very good, little one. doing such a good job at following daddy's instructions. such a good boy. robby hummed, leaning down to kiss dennis' pacifier front—just hear his sweet giggle, give daddy another biiig stretch—good boy. daddy's clever little one.

stretching his arms and legs, dennis relished in the praise, sinking deeper into his headspace with a content coo. already, his eyes began to grow heavy all over again, mmm, mm. dennis babbled, his limbs slowly lowering themselves back onto the bed.

robby watched with an amused chuckle, nap time already? but you just woke up, little one. you don't even want your bottle? robby gently teased, rubbing dennis' tummy when the little one's interest piqued at the mention of a bottle.

convinced he's been bad, done something horribly, catastrophically wrong. that he's gonna get in trouble, bad trouble, that papa will hate him because he's such a bad kid even though he doesn't mean it, he doesn't, he really doesn't—

robby cupping his baby's face with big, warm palms, forcing those watery blues to meet his fond gaze. murmuring hey. hey, denny, hey. you're okay. you're alright. you're such a good kid, you know that, don't you? papa's favorite boy in the whooole world. you're not in trouble... nothing's wrong, angel. papa's never upset with his sweet boy. never ever.

the comforting words come out in a crooning, soothing rumble until they register to poor, overwhelmed dennis, breaths shuddering out of him in hiccuped little sobs. he breaks when they do reach him, slumps into papa's arms, that safe hold he's become so dependent on. he's safe, he's safe, he's safe. papa's not upset. never upset.

oh bestieeeee!! you’re sooo right!!

when dennis is feeling really teeny-tiny, he spends most of his day napping in either robby’s arms or in his crib.

so it leads to robby making sure his little one has the proper time to stretch his limbs and warm his body after a deep nap. all right, baby, biiig stretch—very good. robby praised from his place on the edge of the bed.

dennis, still nestled deep in his regression, was laid out on the bed. he was dressed in his favorite cow onesie, pacifer bobbing between his lips and eyes still so sleepy. but the little one still stretched his arms above his head, flexing his legs.

very good, little one. doing such a good job at following daddy's instructions. such a good boy. robby hummed, leaning down to kiss dennis' pacifier front—just hear his sweet giggle, give daddy another biiig stretch—good boy. daddy's clever little one.

stretching his arms and legs, dennis relished in the praise, sinking deeper into his headspace with a content coo. already, his eyes began to grow heavy all over again, mmm, mm. dennis babbled, his limbs slowly lowering themselves back onto the bed.

robby watched with an amused chuckle, nap time already? but you just woke up, little one. you don't even want your bottle? robby gently teased, rubbing dennis' tummy when the little one's interest piqued at the mention of a bottle.

(This is purely a random writing I created on a whim. I'm going with it's a 'littles are known' scenario. Dennis' main caregivers are Robby and Jack. Also making him autistic because it is a talent of mine to make all characters autistic!)

(Does contain description of a meltdown, self-injurious stimming, and restraining someone for their safety)

little dennis who scraps his knee when playing outside on his swing-set. he fell off the swing when he tried to jump off, but accidentally slipped.

little dennis who usually keep everything bottled in and doesn't bother to cry for his daddy—he was taught that men don't cry for any reason. they're supposed to be tough.

little dennis who decides that he isn't a man, but a little one—so he cries for his daddy, robby.

"daddy!" dennis helplessly cried from his spot on the ground, unable to move his knee without fear of making the pain worse.

little dennis who only cries for a few more seconds before he's suddenly lifted into robby's warm embrace.

"dada, dada." the little one whimpered and sniffled, resting his cheek on robby's shoulder as he was carried back inside.

little dennis who sniffles and whines when robby brings him into the bathroom and looks at his scraped knees. he only feels better when robby rubs ointment onto the red skin and puts his favorite elmo bandages on afterwards.

little dennis who forgets all about his tears when robby showers him in praise and kisses.

"my precious boy," robby cooed, caressing dennis' tear-stained cheeks, "my strong baby—daddy's strong baby, so brave." he praised, kissing every inch of dennis' face.

dennis doesn't drop into littlespace til his body forces him to.

it's been weeks of pushing himself to the limit, fixing things around him and Robby's house, whenever he can, almost obsessively. door hinges that no longer creak, faucets that no longer leak. he's still visiting Amy and helping out with the farm, (Robby insisting he needs to stop— Dennis arguing that he's needed) doing all the heavier labor so Amy can get rest.

all this and still working at the hospital, picking up extra shifts when he can. he needs to be needed, needs to be useful, and he needs to not think. he's doing it on purpose, working himself to the bone. it's what he's supposed to do. ever since he was a kid, it was burned into his brain, taught over and over again. earn his keep. make himself useful.

slothfulness is a sin, a slothful child is a useless child, and he needs to be a man, not a boy. help his father, start chores early, learn to love the ache of muscle, even when no one soothes it anymore, rubs the soreness out of his back. his mother's touch was gone so quickly in his life, his father accusing her of "coddling."

Dennis and Robby had fond their groove when it came to Dennis regressing, they had been dating for a while and Robby was finding his feet as the Caregiver, as daddy. At first Dennis would be shy, reluctant to do the things he did alone like using a pacifer, a sippy cup, or even watching his cartoons. He also referred to Robby as 'Wobby' the first few times but as the trust was built, and Dennis showed more of himself, 'Wobby' became 'Daddy'.

Something about having Dennis calling him daddy and reaching out to him when he was needy fixed something in Robby's heart. Now the townhouse was full of cuddly toys, colouring books and baby supplies, Robby couldnt have been happier.

What Robby didnt expect though was how much of big Dennis appeared in Little Dennis, the tendencies he assumed were something he just did not a character trait. Dennis always cared for others, he always put other people first, including his boyfirend Robby. Little Dennis also put people first, he liked to care for his daddy the best way he could. It surprised Robby at first, he would say he got used to it but he never actually did.

Robby was in the kitchen cutting up peppers for their stir fry, a sure way to get little Dennis to eat his vegetables, when he slipped, cutting his finger and swore in pain. he sucked the blood and began to cut again as Dennis appeared from watching his cartoon in the lounge and pulled at Robby's arm.

"Daddy swear."

"Sorry Dennis, i just cut my finger, i'm ok."

"Den see?"

Robby couldnt say no to is big puppy eyes and dropped the knife to show Dennis his finger with a faint red cut. Dennis grabbed his hand with both of his, dropping the pig stuffie he had dragged with him and inspected it with intense focus. Dennis then pulled the injury to his both and kissed it before wandering off back to the lounge, Robby smiled but went back to preparing dinner. That was until Dennis had returned with his toy medical bag Robby had gotten him as a joke when they first started exploring this. Robby watched as little Dennis checked his fingers heartbeat, injected it the pretend syringe and then put a bear plaster on it and kissed it once more.

"Dr Dennis fix the boo boo."

Robby laughed in reply and thanked the doctor before his doctor walked back to the lounge to watch his cartoon. Robby finished preparing their dinner, he couldnt stop smiling at the childish bandaid.

They were playing on the floor with Dennis's tractors when Robby could feel the beginning of hunger attack him, he was on the floor though and didnt feel like getting up right now. His stomach must have made a small growl as Dennis sat up straight away.

"Daddy hungry?"

"No im fine Den, we can play till lunch time ok?"

He continued to roll his chosen tractor across the carpet, his eyes caught Dennis get up and walk to the kitchen and returned with a bag of soft chips from his snack basket. Dennis sat back down next to Robby and began to eat his snack, Robby watched from the corner of his eye confused.

"Den hungry now."

"That's ok baby, its good you got a snack."

Dennis turned to Robby and ate slowly, repeatedly glancing at Robby and he couldnt figure out why.

"Mmm, really good daddy."

"Thats good."

"very yummy."

"Im glad?"

"Daddy try?"

"No, I'm ok, Dennis, they're yours."

"Daddy say ahh."

Just like that Robby ate over half of the bag left fed by his baby boy who smiled the whole time. Once the bag was finished, Dennis screwed it up walking it to the trash, talking to himself.

"Daddy not hungry now, Den fix."

After a long shift and playing with Dennis all evening, Robby was tired but Dennis still had a load of energy to get out, he wasnt tired. They were watching the Lion King and cuddling on the sofa, Robby repeatedly had to shake himself awake every few minutes. This time as he woke up Dennis was gone, Robby began to panic a bit.

"Dennis!"

To reply to his call, Dennis walked back to the sofa with his arms full of a blanket that he placed over Robby and shoved his pig stuffie under his daddy's arm.

"Den, what are you doing."

"Shh daddy, storytime."

He had a book that was in their bedtime rotation about a kangaroo looking for his mommy, Dennis shuffled closer to his daddy and opened the book. Dennis focused heavily on the book but mostly showed the pictures to Robby instead of reading it.

"Look daddy, baby Kangaroo met Koala bear."

"Now he meet a crocodile daddy, they go snap snap."

"theres his mommy, do you see daddy?"

Robby pretended that he was doing the best job and reacted at the right parts still confused what was happening. It was only when Dennis climbed up and placed a kiss on his dads forehead that Robby recognised the bedtime routine he performed on the younger man.

"Daddy sleep now."

"Ok, thank you baby."