Huckleslut

When he approached and asked you to go out for drinks tonight with the team, you were surprised, mainly because you're an R1 and haven't interacted with him much since working there. You nodded and stumbled over an eager, “Yes, please!” You were sure he thought you were a desperate loser, a silly girl with a crush. 

Fast forward to now, you’re sitting at the bar on your 6th drink, swirling your straw around as you feel your stomach churn lightly. You look over to the dance floor and see Santos wrapping Whitaker in a faux scarf like a Christmas tree, both giggling like babies. You chuckle to yourself and suddenly stop. SOS by Rihanna begins playing, and you instantly stand up from the stool.

 “Ommmiii godd it's my song.” You mumble to yourself. 

Chugging the last few sips of your drink, you pull down your shorts and begin swaying your way over to the dancefloor. You swing your hips in a circle and raise your hands as you sing. 

What you don’t see is Abbot watching you, eyes carefully raking over your figure, catching your dishevelled hair and sweaty makeup. He thinks you look absolutely stunning, as always.

“Staring again?” Robby chuckles to him, taking a sip of his Whiskey. 

Jack rolls his eyes, “Be quiet.” He huffs.

You get lost in the music, barely able to notice the vomit beginning to rise in your throat. You cup your mouth and run into the bathroom, puking on the floor as you slide onto your knees. You take a deep breath before groaning and puking again, messily scooping your hair behind your head. You hear the door open behind you, and Trinity’s voice echoes, 

“Holy fuck, you massacred the bathroom.” She chuckles, staring at the v=chunks you blew across the tiles. She squats beside you and holds your hair. 

“Yup.” You mutter roughly before puking again. The floor looks like a mosaic of your dinner, which consisted of two double cheeseburgers. 

“You know I love you, but maybe we should move to the toilet. I’ll get Dennis to clean this up,” she gestures, grabbing your arms and gently guiding you to the toilet.

 You kneel and instantly start puking again, whining and heaving as you lay your head on the toilet seat.

 “It’s okay, I can clean i-” You start before puking again. 

She shakes her head lightly, “I doubt it. You really went hard, huh? Couldn’t stop thinking of abboooot,” she laughs.

“Shutup.” You groan.

You both go quiet as you hear the door open again, and heavy footsteps padding over to the stall door. 

“Hey, are you alright in there?” Jack’s voice calm and steady. 

Trinity opens the door and steps out, first making sure that you have a grip on your hair, 

“She’s okay, she just had waayy too much to drink. And as you can see.. she painted the floors very generously.” They both look over at the mess, and Trinity doesn’t miss the worry settling in his eyes as they continue to hear you retch. 

 “I think we should get her home. I still have to take Whittaker and Javadi. Could you take her home?”

He nods instantly, “Of course, I’ll tell the staff about the mess, hopefully they can get someone to clean it. Since she’s still puking, I can sit with her and make sure she’s okay. Thank you for staying with her.”

“Of course….Are you sure? If so, thank you, but also, one sec.” Trinity dips back into the stall and whispers, “Hey, are you okay if Abbot takes you home and sits with you?”

You feel your heart begin to race, stomach dropping. “Yeah, that’s okay, go have fun. Thank you for helping me, Trin.”

She smiles gently, “Of course, text me in the morning. Try not to shit on the floor next.” She nods at Jack before walking out of the bathroom, careful to avoid the splatters of your vomit.

Jack gently opens the door, "oh, sweetheart.” He mumbles, sitting beside you and rubbing soft circles into your back. You almost whine at the touch, looking up at him softly, “I’m okay, just had a bit too much to drink..” 

“No kidding sunshine,” he chuckles lightly, “do you need anything? Some water maybe?” 

You shake your head, “mm I don’t think so, I just wanna sit..I think I’m done puking.” You mutter, sliding to sit beside him, the alcohol giving you just enough courage to rest your head on his shoulder.

He smiles and leans into your touch, “Not as shy anymore now that you’re drunk?” He quips, watching your cheeks puff with a soft blush.

“I’m not that shy..” You murmur, burying your head in your hands. 

He chuckles at the sight, “You’re adorable, you know that?” His arm resumes its gentle rubs into your skin.

You feel your drunk thoughts forming words through your tongue, the very small amount of critical thinking you have left flying out the window when you get a slight whiff of his cologne. Your nose nuzzles into his shoulder, and you mumble out a quiet plea,

“They say you have a soft spot for me..that you like me….is that true?” 

Your eyes look hopeful as they beg into his, and you see his gaze soften. He cups your cheek and rubs it carefully. "‘Course I do sweetheart, always have. I’ve heard from Princess that you like me quite a bit too, is that right?” 

You feel your heart pounding in your chest, your brain finally sewing the pieces together as best you can in your state. All of the pet names and sweet words of encouragement weren’t just in your head. Your cheeks grow red again and you nod,

“Yes.” You say quickly, “I like you a lot. Too much.” 

His smile widens, and he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead,

“You’re still pretty drunk, sunshine. We should get you home.” He gingerly pulls you up, wrapping an arm around your waist as you lean on him, drunkenly processing your shared confession. You make your way out of the bathroom, and you wave goodbye to Santos and Dennis, reassuring them that you’re fine. 

You vaguely hear Santos tell the staff about your incident in the bathroom, and they roll their eyes and send an employee to handle it. You mumble out a soft, “Sorry.” That they definitely can’t hear. 

“It’s okay, it happens,” Jack murmurs, rubbing your waist. You step outside and feel the cool air pinch your skin. You instinctively curl into Jack's chest, smiling softly as he wraps you in his arms. 

“My apartment is a two-minute walk.” You mumble, looking up at him. 

He nods, “Okay, but I’m not sure you’re able to walk like this.” He laughs, smiling down at you. 

“Carry me.” You say, bracing yourself for rejection.

His eyebrow quirks, “Carry you, are you sure sweetheart?” 

You whine in return, “Please? I’m cold.” 

“Just had to make sure you were comfortable, pumpkin.” He grins, scooping you up in his arms, cradling you against his warm chest. He feels you smile against him and continues rubbing your back

“Do you really like me?” You mutter, too dizzy to care about sounding desperate. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “more than anything, don't ever doubt it.” 

You shift slightly in his hands, pressing your face into his neck, breathing him in like you’re trying to memorize his scent..

He glances down at you, voice quieter now.

“You with me, sunshine?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes half-lidded. “You smell good.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, “yeah? Is that your professional opinion?”

“Very.” You mumble, completely serious, which makes him smile a little more.

When you reach your apartment building, he adjusts his grip before setting you down gently, his hand staying steady on your waist, like he doesn’t trust you to stand on your own. He’s right, you stumble and press against the door. 

He smiles and pulls you back against him, “keys?” he asks.

You fumble for a moment before handing them to him, watching lazily as he unlocks your door. The second you step inside, the warmth hits you gently. You both take in the messy, domestic atmosphere of your apartment. You walk in and almost take out a lamp as you trip over your feet. 

“Easy sweetheart,” He catches you instantly, hands steadying your arms with a smile.

“I’m fineee.” You mumble, immediately leaning your full weight into his chest.

“uh huh,” He nods, guiding you over to your room slowly. He sits you down on the edge of your bed, crouching slightly in front of you.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your knees and tilting his head so you actually look at him, “do you feel like you’re gonna be sick again?”

You shake your head slowly, fighting back a smile at the sight of his soft eyes, “You’re taking care of me.” You giggle.

His eyes wrinkle sweetly as he smiles, “Mhm, I am.” 

His fingers carefully brush a piece of hair away from your face, “Let’s get you comfortable, okay pumpkin?”

You watch him for a second, heart picking up again in your chest as you hear that nickname again

“You’re staying? y-you really don’t have to stay,” you stammer out, rubbing your nose as you feel the alcohol wear off a bit. 

His eyes quickly soften, “I know I don’t need to, but I want to. Want to know you’re okay.”

You lean into him, wrapping him in a hug. He instantly returns it, big arms cradling you and keeping you steady. 

“Thank you,” You whine, nuzzling into him.

“Hey Whitaker,” You smile sweetly, entering the locker room and putting your bag inside your locker.

His eyes immediately soften when he sees you, and his lips curve into a gentle smile, “Hey, how was your night?” 

“Honestly not too bad, ordered some takeout and watched reality TV.” You hum back, gently touching up your hair in the mirror.

He chuckles gently and leans against the lockers, “Sounds pretty nice, Santos kept me up all night making me watch musicals.” He sighed, a hint of a smile on his face.

“I would not have expected that from Santos. I’m assuming she’ll rip my head off if I mention it?” You tease, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He lets out a soft breath at your touch, “Yeah…she’d never rip your head off, you know? Only mine.” He grins sheepishly.

You nod sarcastically, “I’m not sure if I believe that, I am not gonna test my luck.” You begin walking with him towards the door, 

“Shall we?” You smile, squeezing his shoulder as you both walk out. He stops at the door, “I forgot something, I’ll catch up with you.” He mutters quickly and walks back inside the locker room.

You shrug and continue into the ED. 

He pushes his back against the locker and sighs, feeling his scrubs grow tight and that same feeling swell in his stomach. How is it that the smallest interaction with you made him feel like he was on fire?

“Fuck..” He murmurs, rubbing a hand over his face, “quickly..I have to do this quickly.” 

He hates what he does whenever you get him so hard, but he can’t help himself. Your soft fingertips and beautiful smile always make him feel so special, even if you touch everyone like that. This has been going on for months. You’d touch him or whisper a quick, sweet message in his ear about the patient he saved, and he’s gone. One more trip to the ‘bathroom’ and the staff would probably think he had an STD.

It always goes the same, he thinks of your hands on him, mouth on him, you everywhere all at once. The shame he feels never fades. It lingers in his mind, and he convinces himself he should at least try to stop.

He shuts himself in a stall and slowly reaches into his boxers to cup his aching cock. He groans in pleasure as he pulls it out and begins lazily stroking it, mumbling your name quietly under his breath. Sighing as he remembers he doesn’t have time for this, imagining you so perfect beneath him, whispering those sweet, poisonous praises….no. He checks his watch and quickly speeds up. 3 minutes.

His hand presses against the wall as he imagines your hands on him again, ruining him. You’re so perfect, how could you not know you practically kill him with every touch? That every skim of your fingertips makes him feel like he's on fire? He whimpers quietly and quickens his pace, rubbing sloppy strokes over his cock, panting weakly.

 “fuck ..mm fuck..” He gasps, “oh god-” gently right before he cums, white strands splurting out onto the ground below. His cock twitches for a few seconds, and he shamefully wipes himself up, still thinking about you. As fast as he can, he cleans the floor up and exits the stall. He checks the mirror and mops the sweat off his brow. 

30 seconds to spare, perfect.

 As he steps into the ED, his eyes quickly catch you, rubbing circles into McKay's back, you being the only person she lets touch her. 

He sees you spot him, say something to McKay, then start walking over. His eyes are glued to the careful sway of your hips, and he swallows as you approach, 

“Hey, got a patient for you, if you’ll have it.” You smile

He can barely get a word out with how fast he’s agreeing, “Y-Yeah, yeah of course.” 

Your lips snake into that sickenly sweet smile, the one that makes his heart skip a beat, 

“Perfect, Dennis, thank youuu.” You hum and begin to walk away, not before giving his arm a soft brush with your hand. He smiles to himself and tries to ignore the heat pooling between his legs. He watches the curve of your ass and thighs as you walk away, perfect, soft, and incredibly gorgeous.

Later, about halfway through your shift, you hear Santos and Robby talking outside while you sit to grab some fresh air. You overhear Santos as she rambles, “I can’t get him to shut up about her. Oh wow she did this! Oh, wow, did you see her necklace! He says he’s not interested, but he’s literally obsessed at this point! Can’t I just catch a break?” She whines and pinches the bridge of her nose.

 Robby looks unsurprised, “Kid’s got it bad, what can I say?” A smile curls onto his lips as he walks backward into the ED, “Don’t you have charting to catch up on?”

Santos groans, “Don’t remind me.” She makes her way back into the ED. You wonder who she was talking about, then think back to how Dennis had complimented your necklace earlier that week.

 It couldn’t be you, could it? The girl he was obsessed with?

You shake your head and make your way back inside. He was always acting weird around you, leaving after almost every conversation. You’re like 80 percent sure he sniffed your hair last week. You don’t want to admit that the thought of little Dennis Whitaker having a perverted crush on you didn’t turn you on. It definitely did. You decide you wanna play with him, why not? You unclasp your necklace and smile to yourself.

As you make your way through the hall, you spot Dennis catching up on his charts. “Hey, Denny.” You call out, sending his head instantly whipping in your direction, feet almost tripping over themselves to get to you. “Y-Yeah?” 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favour, my necklace came undone, could you put it back on in the locker room?” You smile innocently, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He nods quickly, “for sure,” he mumbles, eagerly following you inside. You hand him the chain, and he gently brushes your ponytail to the side, pressing the jewelry to your neck as his hands work on the clasp. 

You press yourself against him a little more, to test the waters. You hear him murmur a soft, “shit,” under his breath. He finally clasps the necklace after about 30 seconds of fumbling it between his fingers. You smile, turning and cupping his cheek, rubbing it for a second. Awe floods into his expression, a pretty smile eliciting from his soft lips. 

“Thank you Denny.” You hum once again and leave the locker room. You pause outside the door, waiting for him, but he doesn’t come out. 

A minute passes, and you decide to go back in. You quietly push open the door, and you begin to hear something. It sounds like soft panting, and your eyes widen at the realization. 

You walk on the pads of your feet, silently approaching the stall. You hear muffled whines and sticky slapping coming from the other side, and the unmistakable sound of your name. 

You feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of him touching himself to you. 

“Dennis.” You blurt out.

The locker room goes completely silent, and you gently knock on the door, “Can I come in?”

You hear the sound of scrubs rustling, then the door opens.

 Dennis looks sloppy and out of breath, pants roughly pulled up.

 “Uh, yeah?” He murmurs weakly, looking miserable.

 “Were you touching yourself to the thought of me?” You mutter, stepping into the stall and locking it. 

He just stares at you for a moment, waiting. “Dennis?” You plead carefully. 

“Yes. I-I do that sometimes.” He admits weakly.

Your eyes widen, “So you’ve done it before.” 

He stammers what feels like a few hundred apologies before he finally takes a deep breath. “Every time you touch me..I get turned on in a way I’ve never been before. You drive me fucking crazy, and I can’t take it when you touch or look at me, so- Yes, I come in here and relieve some of the tension. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes soften, and you notice the outline of his bulge still peeking from his scrubs. 

“Poor baby.” You hum, stepping toward him, cupping his cock through his pants. 

“W-wha- fuck-” He whines, melting into you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, gently sucking and kissing whatever skin is available. His hips already start rocking into your hand, greedy for whatever touch you’ll allow him.

You smile at his kisses, revelling in how cute he looks, all needy for you. “Let me help you, yeah?” You coo, and he nods pathetically, “Please.” He pants.

Your hand sneaks down his pants, planting gentle strokes over his sensitive skin. “Please don’t tease me.” He groans, but quickly shuts up as you slide onto your knees, beautiful eyes peering up into his. You give him that tender smile again, and he mewls a soft, “fuck,”

He gasps as you take him in your mouth, tongue drawing teasing circles over his leaking tip. 

His hips buck and he lets out the most pathetic moan you’ve ever heard.

 “You really like this, hm?” You tease, sucking carefully, watching every pretty little twitch in his face, every stutter of his hips. His hands begin gently stroking your hair, touch kind and loving. “Yes..god yes..” He whimpers, hands gripping the handle on the wall like it's a lifeline. 

‘I’m gonna cum- I-I can cum right? Please?” He pleads, chest heaving and body almost going slack. 

You smile as you continue your slow, yet perfectly torturous pace. “You can cum, cum for me, Dennis.” 

That’s all he needs. His knees buckle, and he whines your name like a prayer as he fills you. You feel the thick ropes of cum paint your mouth, and you swallow them eagerly. He gently lifts you to your feet and gives you the sweetest hug you’ve ever received.

 “Thank you..thank you..can we do this more often?” He murmurs into you, breath tickling your neck. 

“Of course we can.” You chuckle, “I really like you, Dennis, especially the perverted parts of you.” 

He smiles hesitantly, “Are you sure I didn’t freak you out?” arms pulling back, eyes begging into yours.

He makes his way home from an awful shift in the ED, body aching and mind begging to be home with you. He misses you so much when you’re apart. There’s nothing he wants more than you wrapped in his arms, safe and happy. He gets out of the car and groans as his body discovers new pains radiating from his back.

The walk from the curb to your apartment feels like an eternity, his hands fumble with the keys and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he enters. 

The familiar sight of your cozy, warmly decorated apartment always makes him smile, and his smile grows when his nose is met with the smell of his favourite food, butter chicken. He loves buying it from this one place near the hospital, but ever since you made it for him you completely changed his mind, the way you make it is unlike any other. He sets his bag by the door and slips off his shoes, taking quick steps to the kitchen. 

His eyes immediately soften when they find you, wearing his shirt and your fuzzy pajama pants. You're softly swaying to the music you have playing, humming as you watch the stove. His hands quickly cup your hips, head resting on your shoulder. You smile immediately as you feel him press against you, noticing a weariness in his stature.

“Baby, how was your shift?” You ask softly, flipping around and wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. You press a quick kiss to his lips.

A subtle sigh leaves him, arms encircling you in a hug, “Hard.” He mumbles breathlessly into your skin.

Your hand rubs his back and you nod understandingly, “Talk about it? Or cuddle and watch a movie?” 

His lips curve into a sweet smile, and he picks you up into his arms, holding your thighs and kneading the soft skin, “Movie sounds great, but you sound better.” He chuckles, peppering kisses on your neck as he places you on the counter.

 “You’re adorable.” You laugh, “The food's gonna burn Denny, I made your favorite.” 

 His smile widens, and his hands continue their soft squeezes into your thighs, “Okay..okay, I’ll set you free, for now.” He murmurs cheekily, pressing a final kiss to your lips.

He sets you down on the floor. His hands rub your sides again as you watch the stove, “Thank you for cooking, you really didn’t have to.” He smiles, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head. 

“I felt like cooking, and I know you’ve been craving butter chicken.” 

His eyes widen and he laughs, “How’d you know that?”

“You’re kinda always craving butter chicken.” You smile. He gives you another soft kiss, this time on your lips, and leans in to give one on your cheek, “You know me so well, I missed you.” He whines, pulling you into another hug from behind. 

“I missed you too, always.” You mumble softly. You let him hold you for a moment before gently pulling away and plating the food. You hand him a big bowl and plop on the couch beside him, wrapping both of you in a blanket.

He groans as he takes the first bite, “Fuck, I love you…this is so good.” he hums in pleasure.

You laugh and ruffle his hair, “I love you too, you’re so cute, you know that? 

He smiles sweetly, mouth full. He swallows and says, “And you look unbelievably amazing in my shirt.” He leaves a tender kiss on your forehead, putting his bowl down and lying in your lap, head nuzzling into your chest. 

You giggle and smile, “Gonna finish your food later?” 

“Mhmmm,” He whines gently, wrapping his arms around you and smiling against your skin. You can feel as he inhales your scent, gripping your side just a bit tighter as he does so.

You pause your music and put a movie on, playing with Dennis’ hair as he continues resting upon your chest, gently drawing patterns across your waist.

"You've been so needy lately" You chuckle, cupping his cheek.

“So perfect, so pretty,” He says gently, eyes wandering over you with adoration, fingers now rubbing circles into your needy clit. 

You moan and writhe into his touch,

“Don’t stop. Fuck. Dennis.” 

He smiles at that and places a tender kiss on your forehead

Arousal pools around your skin and thighs, and Dennis is quick to lap some up with his fingers and greedily suck on them, humming at the sweet taste of you. 

“I missed the way you taste,” He whines eagerly, hands already pressing into your plush thighs and lifting them up. He peppers greedy kisses across your thighs, using soft bites and sucks to elicit more pretty noises from you.

“Denny..shit” You moan out, fingers clenched into the sheets and back arched into oblivion as his mouth finally reaches where you need him most.

His tongue dips into your folds with eager need, circling your clit and sucking on it carefully.

Your hand finds its place in his hair, wrapping around the soft curls and pulling him closer.

He whines in response and rubs gentle circles into your thighs, mumbling soft praises under his breath as he devours you. 

“I’m close” You cry out in pleasure, and he rubs your legs in response, 

“mh i know sweetheart, cum for me” He mumbles into your pussy, breath making you moan and wriggle. 

“F-fuck!” Your orgasm washes over you in a blissful wave, making your legs shake and eyes roll back into your head. 

His lips plant soft kisses over your sensitive clit, tongue licking his lips as he wraps you in a hug.

You hum in pleasure as nuzzle into his chest, “I love you Dennis”

You step inside and make your way through the clinic, giving small smiles and hopeful eyes to the people you see. A sigh escapes your chest as you walk through the doors, handing out coffees and taking a large gulp of yours. 

“I love you, you saved me,” Trinity groans as she greedily snatches her iced coffee.

You chuckle softly and hum, “Love you too, Trin.” 

Your eyes search the ER for Dennis, the only drink left being his. 

“Hey, Dana, have you seen Dennis?” You ask softly.

She glances up at you from a chart, “Matter of fact I have sweetheart, he's having a bit of a moment in the breakroom.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you bite your lip gently, “Do you think it’s alright if I go check on him?”

“Course’, but we’ll need you back out here soon, two traumas 15 minutes out.” She states carefully.

You nod and walk over carefully to the breakroom, opening the door gingerly and peering in. 

Dennis is sitting quietly, head buried in his hands.

“Denny?” You ask carefully, “You okay?”

You shut the door and sit across from him as his eyes meet you with gentle hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay..” He mutters pathectically.

Your gaze remains the same, but your eyebrow quirks, and he glances up at you before saying, “Alright, fine, I’m not okay. I basically killed a patient.”

“Tell me what happened,” you murmur, voice gentle and inviting. 

Dennis exhales shakily, pinching his nose and sighing before starting, 

“I-I missed something,” he says, voice cracking. 

“It was stupid, it was right there, and I just… I didn’t catch it in time. And then everything went downhill and-” He swallows hard. 

“They coded. And I just stood there for a second too long.”

Your expression softens, but you don't interrupt him.

“I just can’t stop thinking.” He slides his hands through his soft curls, “If I had been faster, smarter, better, I could’ve-” He covers his face again. 

“Denny,” You say softly, “Look at me.”

His eyes meet yours, a cluster of tears begging to surrender from them. You cup his cheeks tenderly, “It was not your fault, okay? You’re not perfect, you made a mistake because you’re human, not because you’re careless.”

He shakes his head a little, like he wants to believe you but can’t quite get there.

“But what if-” 

“No, Denny. You can’t torture yourself with the what-ifs. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

You slide the coffee over to him and walk over to the microwave to heat the cookie.

“Thank you, I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” He mutters, hands relaxing against the warmth of the coffee cup. 

You smile softly, brushing some messy strands from your face, “You don’t have to be sorry. I was sobbing earlier because I lost a patient, and Robby screamed at me, so who am I to judge?” I chuckle lightly. 

“You were? I’m sorry.” He says while glancing at your hair.

“Don’t apologize. I kept thinking it was my fault, too. The weight is so heavy, trust me, I know.” You sigh, scrunching your eyebrows. 

He nods, gentle understanding painting his features, “No kidding. My brain can’t stop obsessing over every little detail. It's torturing me.”

“It will torture you for as long as you let it, and you might let it torture you for a while because you feel like you should be punished.” You sigh before continuing, “But you should know that the more you let it wear you down, the less you’ll be able to help the next person, so try your best to keep going, okay?”

His expression softens, “Yeah…yeah, of course. You’re smart. Always smart.” He shakes his head with a smile.

“I got you a gingerbread cookie, those are your favourite, right?” You chuckle, pulling it from the microwave.

A subtle confusion flickers over his face, “How’d you know that?”

“You mentioned it once.” You hum softly, handing him the warm cookie.

He stares at you for a few moments, eyes tracing your features to ensure himself that they’re real, like he’s trying to memorize the person who showed up when he needed someone most. 

He stands up and hesitates for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you in a soft embrace.

Your breath catches, and your arms coil around him carefully, rubbing comfortable circles into the soft material of his scrubs. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, too.

“Thank you.” He mumbles into your neck, voice quiet and soft.

For a second, you just stand there with him, feeling the way his shoulders rise and fall unevenly against you, like he’s still trying to steady himself. His grip isn’t tight in a desperate way, just..grounding. Like you’re the only solid thing in the room right now.

Your hand moves slowly up his back, fingers brushing lightly over the nape of his neck.

“I’ve got you, Denny, always,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

Dennis exhales shakily against your shoulder, the tension in him loosening just a little more.

“I don’t usually...” he starts, voice muffled, “I don’t usually do this.”

You smile against him, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, I figured.”

That earns a quiet, breathy huff of a laugh from him.

After a moment, he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, though his hands hesitate before letting go completely, like he’s not sure he wants to yet.

You notice red flushing along his ears and neck, a smile curling on your lips as you stare.

He clears his throat, “Sorry,” he says again, quieter this time.

You tilt your head, giving him a look. “If you apologize one more time, I’m taking the cookie back.”

His eyes widen just a little. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

That gets a real smile out of him, small, a little shaky, but real.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, shaking his head. He glances down at the cookie in his hand, then back up at you. “Seriously, though. Thank you. For the coffee. For this.” He gestures vaguely between you.

You shrug lightly, leaning back against the counter while redoing your ponytail, “You’d do the same for me.”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah,” he says, softer now. “I would.” 

Your eyes meet, and for a second, the noise of the ER feels far away again, like it’s just the two of you in this tiny breakroom bubble.

He puts the cookie in his mouth, and you watch as his eyes brighten at the familiar sweet taste. “You’re the best.” He hums sweetly.

“I knowww,” You smile cheekily.

There's a knock on the door, and you hear Dana's voice echo throughout the ER,

“Trauma incoming!”

You both flinch slightly, reality snapping back into place.

You push off the counter with a small sigh. “Duty calls.”

Dennis nods, running a hand through his hair, the soft curls falling perfectly back into place. He looks steadier now. Not okay, not fully, but standing.

As you reach for the door, his voice stops you again.

“Hey.”

You glance back.

“Can we..” he hesitates, glancing across the room as he searches for the words, “Can we talk later? After shift?” 

Your lips curve into a gentle smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He nods, like that answer alone gives him something to hold onto.

“Okay, see you then,” he says, a glimmer of hope in his soft eyes.

And for the first time all day, the weight on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.