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thinking about mcvadi and ‘i accidentally called my teacher mom’
cassie had always said things before thinking them through. it had gotten better as she’d grew older. motherhood, sobriety, medical school, all tempered her into someone with much more tact.
she couldn’t think straight around victoria.
granted, cassie had been in a life defining dry spell. it had been…years at this point. that type of sexual deprivation had to come with side effects. that was what her thing with victoria was. a side effect.
there wasn’t even really a thing with victoria. cassie would never let anything actually happen. but sometimes, cassie found herself making wildly inappropriate and suggestive comments to this sweet coworker literally half her age.
in a crowded trauma room, cassie couldn’t just tell victoria she was behind her, no! cassie had to slip by unannounced. when victoria shifted her weight to unknowingly step back into cassie, she had to lay a hand on victoria’s lower back as she brushed past her, whispering a low, “just give me a second, sweetie.”
cassie literally had to do all that. she didn’t have any control over herself.
she ruminated on it as she scarfed down her protein bar. what the fuck was that?
it was like every time she was within two feet of victoria, the universe populated cassie’s brain with exclusively dirty double meanings and lustful thoughts.
victoria was in the captain morgan’s pose and there were some trauma shears cassie just absolutely needed to grab at that very moment. before the group could start the maneuver, cassie patted victoria’s calf and said, “let me get in between your legs for a second.”
the tool was retrieved. cassie’s dignity was lost when the room seemed to uniformly buffer at the exchange.
it kept going. even innocuous things like you need my help, hun? or what got you all wet? were laced with a tone, and usually accompanied by a touch, that didn’t quite feel work appropriate.
cassie felt so guilty about it, but it all slipped out anyway. something a touch patronizing, but too intense, too caring, to come off as anything besides overly-involved. cassie would even call it maternal if the thought didn’t make her heart drop.
victoria never even gave a particularly big response to it. maybe some wide eyes or a stuttered redirection back to whatever matter was at hand. the ambiguous responses left cassie in a constant state of hope and self loathing.
one day, victoria fucked up. maybe it was the way she was arguing with her parents, maybe it was that her love life was a joke, but she made a stupid, absentminded mistake.
cassie was her resident that day. she cornered victoria in an empty patient bay, stepped in her space, crossed her arms and declared, “i’m not mad, i’m just disappointed.”
victoria’s eyes burned. her voice wobbled as she automatically, “i’m sorry, mom.” her body locked up in embarrassment. “oh my god. no.”
“it’s fine, it’s fine.” cassie went to grab victoria’s, but the girl squirmed away and practically ran back to the crowded hub.
(In which Dennis starts collecting clips of Robby's voice to use as audio porn)
'Hey good job kiddo - that was incredible.'
Dennis didn't MEAN to record it.
He was making a voice memo to himself, because he kept losing his grocery lists when he wrote them on paper. And it just so happened to that he'd just finished a trauma case and done his first solo trache, which was amazing.
And apparently Doctor Robby thought so too, because he grabbed his shoulders in passing while Dennis was debating if he actually needed fabric softener this month, and said...that.
Which sort of accidently got recorded. And saved.
He didn't really mean to listen to it back. But...not many people had ever told him he was doing a good job. Especially not at something he cared about as much as medicine. So it meant a lot.
And it didn't hurt that Robby sounded kind of breathless and gravelly from helping with compressions and calling out stats for the long, long time they'd worked on the patient together.
He kept playing it to himself, just when he was tired or had a bad day.
When he was in bed, last thing at night.
OK so that part was pretty fucked up.
(nsfw below)
But it just...made him feel so good, hearing Robby practically panting into his ear while he frantically jerked off - collapsing against the mattress in a sweaty mess and hearing 'Hey good job kiddo - that was incredible.'
Sure, he should probably erase the clip and...stop.
Or...he could just...record a few more.
Just for...morale reasons.
Robby yelling 'Fuck!' so loud it made Dennis jump even though he'd seen it coming and quickly hit record.
Come here, Whitaker - you're with me.
Nice work today Kid.
See, that's why you're my favourite.
Good catch, Dennis.
And finally - the one he listened to so often that he could swear he starts to hear it in his sleep - Robby getting a little sarcastic with him when it took him a little too long to notice he was calling him.
Yep, come on over here....good boy, now pay attention.
He didn't mean to basically Pavlov himself into getting a little hard every time his boss compliments him, but there wasn't really a way to undo that now. Other than stop which...he doesn't think he can. He's started to...need it. To get off. He tries a few times, without the little clips on his phone and he just gets frustrated and can't quite finish.
So the day he can't find his phone at work is...a little concerning.
After tearing around for an hour hunting for it between cases and working up a cold sweat, Dennis heads to the breakroom to catch his breath. He's even used Trinity's phone to call his but the goddamn thing is on silent and there's no sound of it vibrating anywhere.
He pushed open the door and his stomach clenches tight because of course Robby is the only person in there, sitting at the table, glasses on and scrolling his phone.
No...not Robby's phone.
"This yours?" Robby holds it up. "I guessed from the pictures. There's no passcode on it...might want to change that."
"Yeah...I will. I absolutely, will," Dennis stammers.
"Good...rounds in ten."
He got away with it. Dennis promises himself that he's going to erase all the recordings and stop whatever this thing is.
But when he gets home and checks the folder where he keeps them, innocently named 'Work Notes' he finds that instead of seven files...there are eight.
Is he gonna listen to it in the break room? Absolutely not. He has no idea what's in the message but it's not for public consumption. As far as Dennis knows, it's Robby telling him he's fired. Though why he'd do that in a voice message in THAT folder is beyond him.
Dennis rushes to the bathroom, shuts himself in a cubicle and puts the speaker on his phone against his ear.
So....I'm not sure why you have all these saved but...I'm guessing it's because you like hearing that you're doing a good job, hmm?
The words 'good job' settle into his belly all warm and weighty and Dennis tries to ignore how they make him feel even now that Robby knows how much of a freak he's been.
Which you are, Dennis...you're always impressing me. Honestly I'm...proud of you. Really proud.
He can hear Robby breathing, too loud with the phone against his ear.
He doesn't mean to close his eyes, but he does, the better to listen to each shallow breath. Robby was proud of him?
His dick twitched and Dennis' face went hot. Not now. Here. Damn it. He pressed a hand down on himself.
For the record, I like having you here, under me...I'd have you any day of the week. Because you are so...good...
A shiver runs down his spine and he can feel himself getting hard, helplessly, at the low voice in his ear.
Such a good doctor...and so eager and...obedient...
Dennis can't hold back a whine as he squeezes himself through his scrubs.
Does that make you feel good, Dennis? Robby's voice murmurs in his ear, husky and slightly strained in a way that Dennis can't quite pinpoint but which makes his whole body tighten.
He nods. To no one.
I'd like if it did. In fact, what I'd really like...is if I could make you feel so good, that you wanted to touch yourself...right here at work.
Dennis's eyes fly open and he looks up but no one is watching him over the cubicle walls. It just felt for a second as if someone was...as if Robby was looking down on him, unblinking, seeing everything.
Would you do that for me? Hmm? It'd make me very proud...if you made yourself come, right now...for me. You want to make me proud, right?
He nodded again, more desperately.
Touch yourself.
His hand was in his scrubs, in his underwear without him pausing to think. A little dry but he squeezed his eyes shut and imagine it was Robby touching him, taking any chance he could, lube be damned.
See, I know you'll do it - because you're my good by, aren't you kiddo?
Dennis pressed his lips together and tried to contain and whine. His hand was moving fast, in tight, punishing jerks. He was so desperate. Felt so gross and needy and turned on and dumb - sitting in the bathroom jerking off and trying to stay quiet, while Robby - Robby's voice, just his voice - purred in his ear.
Do you like it when I call you that? Kiddo. Kid...boy...
The three words made his heart skip.
I wonder if you'd like to call me something...I mean, I am so very proud of you...maybe that kinda makes me like your dad...which fits, because...you're daddy's favourite boy.
Oh God he was disgusting, he was awful...he was completing incapable of stopping. It felt too good. The best. Dennis whimpered and bucked his hips up helplessly, pathetically, fucking his hand, imagining that he was sitting on Robby's lap and not a cold toilet lid, legs held open on his thighs.
And you wanna be daddy's favourite, don't you Dennis? Want to make me so, so proud of you - want to show me exactly how good and obedient you are.
Dennis sobbed softly, nodded again, he was so close. So fucking close.
I want you...to come in your underwear - and leave them in my locker. So I can see you followed my instructions perfectly, like I know you can.
Oh shit. Oh Jesus...Dennis stuffed himself back into his underwear just in time to soak them in his come, shaking and shuddering as his body clenched tight. Leaving him embarrassingly breathless and flushed, his scrubs slipping down to his ankles. He tipped his head back and it hit the wall with a dull thump.
Fuck. Oh Fuck...
And if you do that for me - I'll have to find a way, to reward you. My combination is 7561. I hope you don't let me down.
Dennis's legs were still shaking and his face was on fire as he rushed to the locker room and opened Robby's locker, stuffing his wadded up underwear inside and closing the door before anyone could see.
His heart was thundering. What the fuck had he done? What was he going to do?
He caught Robby's eye as he crossed the hub and immediately felt dizzy.
"You OK, Kid?" Robby asked, peering over his glasses.
"..yeah," Dennis squeaked, so very aware that Dana was also looking his way. "Just...need some water."
"Here." He held out his own water bottle and Dennis almost tripped over his own feet going over to take it. As Robby let go his eyes found his and didn't let go until he'd finished drinking and handed the bottle back.
"You want any more?" Robby asked.
His chest felt tight, body simmering with heat. "Maybe...later."
"Later works," Robby said softly. "Back to work now - there's a good boy."
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thinking about alpha parker bitching beta trinity….
(these brainworms are brought to you via @puppyjavadi)
trinity was a beta. she had a light, citrusy scent, little to no true nesting instincts, and a regular-degular vagina that didn’t produce copious amounts of slick.
parker treated her like an omega.
a beta’s weak nose couldn’t possibly pick up on all the alpha pheromones that were imbued in the hoodies parker gave her. it was purely for others to smell the claim on her. same with the aggressive scentings. it didn’t make her head fuzzy the way it would an omega’s, but the intent behind it was the same. ownership. complete and total ownership.
“tell me you’re mine,” parker told trinity. parker’s thumb rubbed at trinity’s clit while she continued her even, steady pace fucking in and out of her. “say it.”
“yours!” trinity easily acquiesced. “‘m yours.” she could barely slur it out. it was like the thoughts were being fucked out of her head. her insides felt syrupy and hot, like nothing she’d ever felt before.
trinity usually got wet for parker. how could she not? this time, however, she was dripping onto the comforter as soon as she was touched. the noises as their bodies met each other were thick and obscene.
parker groaned, overwhelmed with how trinity’s scent was throwing itself in waves across the room. the citrus warmed into a tingly caramel smell. parker just wanted to get her mouth on every part of her pretty little beta.
“getting so slick for me, baby.”
trinity wanted to say she didn’t get slick. she got wet! but she couldn’t talk coherently in between the whines and moans.
through the haze, trinity’s mind wanted one thing.
knot me, knot me, knot me.
she must’ve mumbled it, because parker chuckled and cooed in her ear, “you want my knot, honey?”
trinity nodded. “please, alpha,” she begged.
and parker couldn’t think clearly, feeling the hot, wet rush between trinity’s thighs, smelling a type of arousal that had never emanated from trinity before. her hindbrain knew before her conscious mind did. parker thoughtlessly murmured, “i know, omega. i know.”
I LOVE YOUR DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE FICS AAAA. Also you got an audible laugh from me with the Dennis isn’t allowed to use a knife but he CAN use a scalpel bit. Thank you for feeding us
you're so welcome and if you like it i'm officially posting a longer series on ao3 because of course i am whatever no one gets me i can't be perceived and dont want to be okay bye
we as a fandom deeply underutilize the fact that there is a fucking shower in the pitt. a big fucking shower! where multiple people can fit! like we could have canon compliant on-company-time shower fics. everyone get more insane about decontamination showers rn…
also uhhhh tw dubcon and slight kidnapping vibes perhaps
dennis deeply appreciated environmental services, especially when it was a hazmat job. they worked incredibly hard and he would insist it was completely his fault. the chemical was left partially open on the edge of a cart, but really, dennis should’ve been paying attention. apparently the cleaner was caustic, only to be used with rubber gloves for the most deadly of pathogens. it was usually heavily diluted. and it was now all over dennis’s front.
robby, of course, walked over the moment dennis gasped loudly. “what happened?” he checked the safety label of whatever was currently on dennis’s skin. “shit, OPA. whitaker, you gotta strip and rinse your skin for a couple minutes or you could get chemical burns.”
dennis froze. “it’s fine. i’ll just wipe off in the bathroom and shower as soon as i get home.”
“don’t be a martyr, kid.” robby grabbed onto dennis’s shoulder and pushed him to the shower right off the ambulance bay. “your body is a temple and all that.”
dennis pulled his clothes away from his body, already feeling a bit itchy from the irritant. he let robby walk him into the tiled room. robby turned on the shower and immediately pushed dennis, clothes and all, into the stream. he made a strangled gasping noise at the cold. “fuck, robby!” it was practically a squeal.
dennis stood there, getting pelted with water, having just accepted his fate of chattering teeth and wet socks.
“clothes off, whitaker,” robby ordered from the doorway. he crossed his arms, staring his intern down.
dennis eyed the open door that faced outside. “can you…go?” he shouted his request of the water hitting the ceramic.
robby crooked his head to the side. “are you really going to scrub the whole fifteen minutes if i leave?” and like…dennis wasn’t, but that didn’t mean everyone just got to watch him shower now! dennis tried to argue that point, but robby cut him off. “ah-ah! i can’t have my most productive intern out because his skin is sloughing off.” robby pointed a finger up and down dennis’s body. “strip. all of it.”
“can you at least shut the door?” dennis wiped the water stuck to his eyelashes. “and don’t look!”
“fine, buddy. but you gotta get out of those wet scrubs before you do damage.” a smirk overtook robby’s face when he turned to close the only exit and vantage point into this room.
there was no sexy way to take off wet clothes. robby pretended to avert his eyes while dennis struggled with taking off his scrub top and undershirt in one fell swoop. god, the kid was clumsy and cute and a little fucking helpless. literally anyone else would’ve told robby to fuck all the way off, but here dennis was, just showering in front of his much older boss because robby insisted.
dennis almost tripped as he took off of his socks, nearly tripping again with his pants and boxers.
“you need a hand?” robby asked, his own clothes and skin feeling a little damp from the humidity, even if he was avoiding the stream.
dennis glared at him. “no. i don’t.”
robby raised his eyebrows, non verbally telling dennis he needed to fix his attitude. he blatantly looked up and down at dennis’s naked body. “scrub,” he ordered.
dennis resisted for just a moment, before bringing his hands to his collarbones and shoulders following the instruction. robby didn’t pretend to not watch anymore, instead making sure dennis touched every inch of himself.
after dennis was made to lean over to get the backs of his knees, he hesitantly asked, “has it been 15 minutes yet?”
robby looked down at his watch and realized he hadnt even looked at the time when they’d started. whatever, that felt like a thorough rinsing. “yeah, you’re good.”
dennis gratefully turned off the water, thinking it would make him feel warmer. it didn’t. he also felt weirder about being naked with the shower off. he cupped his hands over his genitals. “i need a towel. and clothes.” dennis glanced at the pile of what used to be his outfit. “fuck, my shoes! i need shoes.”
robby nodded like it hadn’t occurred to him. “i can scrounge some stuffup.” he paused, with the door open, to joke, “don’t go anywhere, i’ll just be one second.” it was long enough for dennis to feel the breeze, certainly long enough for someone to walk by and see. robby reveled in the humiliated yelp dennis let out.
dennis stood there, naked and shivering, just waiting for robby, absolutely at his mercy.
robby took his time as he gathered everything, content with the fact dennis couldn’t go anywhere without his help.
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robby tugs dennis to his neck, crooning in delight when he begins to lap at his skin. "c'mon, puppy," robby says. "go bite for me. be a good boy for daddy."
he knows that he will be teased for this; that jack will see his new bruises and howl in laughter because you keeping a mutt, mikey? and it is exactly because robby knows that will happen that he keeps egging dennis on, using dennis' fixation to hook jack in—trying to see how much of dennis does robby need to dangle in front of jack until he breaks.
robby's always known that jack likes dennis, after all. that jack likes seeing what dennis does to robby. that he'd been jealous but the jealousy has now turned tepid, churning it into desire. so how much more could jack take? how much teasing and marks and bruises does robby need to show off until jack comes crawling to him, asking for a taste of dennis? of the two them?
Jack keeps accidentally ruining Robby's relationships. And it's not like he means to! They're just never prepared for how present Jack is in Robby's life.
It isn't his fault that he arrives at Robby's after work only to find Katie- the current girlfriend of the seven week period- making pancakes and it isn't his fault that the first thing out of Jack’s mouth is "But there’s no lemon in the house." He's tired and his leg is killing him and there is no lemon in the house. Jack knows the contents of Robby's fridge better than his own at this point.
"Lemon?" Katie asks, looking confused and glancing between them. Jack supposes that maybe she didn't know that he came over after work if Robby had the day off.
"Yeah, lemon. Robby likes his pancakes with butter and lemon juice like an insane person." Jack points out. Surely she should know this by now. It's week five.
"I like it without, too!" Robby tries to insist, but Jack already is pulling up a delivery app so one can be obtained.
"No, you don't." It's a statement because he doesn't.
He's seen Robby turn down pancakes more than once if a restaurant doesn't have lemons. Jack’s seen him ask for some for his pancakes at hotel buffets and not even nice hotel buffets. The lovely people of the Holiday Inn Express in Dallas are still probably perplexed by the man who brought his own lemon juice on vacation, but Jack likes to be prepared and does not like listening to Robby whine while eating rubbery scrambled eggs two hours before Jack is set to give a presentation.
"Robby ate them with syrup last week." Katie insists and Jack actually laughs.
"She's got jokes!" Jack says, not realizing yet that he's stepped in it because he's tired and his leg hurts and he's not even sure why she's here- Robby never schedules his girlfriends to be here during Jack's mornings. Those are supposed to be dedicated bro-times.
He pays extra for an expedited delivery and tucks his phone back in his pocket, satisfied now that it's on it's way. When he looks up, he finds that Katie is looking dejected by the stove and Robby is glaring at him. The penny drops.
"You ate syrup?" Jack asks, much in the same way one would say 'you ate battery acid?'
"I eat syrup." Robby tries to save it, but it's utterly unconvincing. "The pancakes were really good, I swear." Somehow, that manages to sound even less convincing, which Jack has to marvel at.
He needs to prioritize a tactical exit.
"I'm gonna shower. My crutches still by your bed?" Katie's eyes are wide, her mouth open in shock, and Robby's turning a horrible puce color. A tactical exit is out the window, all that's left is a rapid, inglorious retreat. "I'll find them myself. 10 minutes until lemon."
By the time Jack's out of the shower, Katie is gone and next to the bowl of pancake batter is a single perfect lemon. Robby's huffy, but Jack knows that once he cooks the pancakes, slathers them in butter and a drizzle of juice with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar and fresh zest on top, Robby will have forgiven him. It really isn't Jack's fault, not at all when you think about it. She shouldn't have interrupted bro-time.
thinking about robby who has been vanilla for literally half a century vs gen z dennis who grew up watching gang bangs and jerking off to twitter femboys in cat ears
if robby needs a visual aid at all, robby watches raunchy scenes from movies to get off. he has a couple downloaded on his laptop, but will occasionally find one online. sometimes whatever is on hbo will catch his fancy (because he still surfs fucking channels instead of streaming).
all and all, it’s pretty standard stuff. a lot of it isn’t even actual sex or nudity. the freakiest thing he revisits is the salma hayek foot scene in from dusk till dawn. (he doesn’t even have a thing for feet but…come on.)
dennis, on the other hand, watches X-rated material with esoteric kinks nearly every time he gets off by himself.
the cnc step-dad, electrostim, dumbification video dennis accidentally left open in his tabs should never have been robby’s introduction to it all.
thinking about robby who has been vanilla for literally half a century vs gen z dennis who grew up watching gang bangs and jerking off to twitter femboys in cat ears
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Dennis Whitaker disappears after his first shift at PTMC, and a few nights later, Robby tells Jack that the kid has been involved in an accident, and his left leg has been amputated.
---
Jack only met Dennis Whitaker once, and he only feels a little bad in saying that with everything happening in the aftermath of Pittfest, he didn't really remember the kid that well. He had a vague memory of big, fearful eyes, a competence fitting of an MS4, and nothing particularly loud or remarkable about the kid.
He didn't think too much of it, beyond a vague and academic concern, when Robby greeted him with a frown a couple of nights later at handoff.
"Are you gonna tell me or do I need to guess?"
"Whitaker hasn't shown up for his shifts the last few days."
Jack blinks, taking a moment.
"The med student? Brother, maybe the MCI got to him. That shit was trial by fire, and the reality of what we do isn't for everyone. Maybe he's just taking some time, thinking about his options."
Robby nods, but Jack can tell he's not convinced.
Turns out, he's right not to be.
Jack has never seen Robby's face look as fucking haggard as it does when he takes Jack aside a few nights later, and breaks the news with as much gentleness as he's still got left in him.
Major traffic accident, car vs pedestrians. Multiple crushing injuries. They'd taken Whitaker to Presby because it was closer to the scene.
Amputation of Whitaker's left leg. Below the knee, Jack hears Robby say, and he knows realistically that it's a good thing. Lucky.
He can't bring himself to say it out loud, and neither can Robby.
---
The decision to take Whitaker under his wing is made without much conscious effort from Jack. It happens like a simple math problem, the outcome consistent and expected.
He goes to visit the kid at Presby, doesn't get offended when he has to introduce himself and then jog the kid's memory about where they've met before.
He lets the kid be numb, then sad, then angry, then sad again. He drives him to the support groups, and lets the kid be bitterly jealous over Jack's control of a vehicle.
"You'll have this again. But in the meantime you get to be pissed about it."
He gets his care transferred over to PTMC, and promises the kid that the ortho and rehab teams won't go spreading rumours or talking about him to his colleagues.
"They're not even my colleagues anymore."
Jack snorts, and tries to hold back another one at the kid's angry, puffed-up kitten scowl.
"Hate to break it to you kid, but those pricks are persistent, and most of them have made a real nice ass groove for themselves in that department. Like it or not, those fuckers will be waiting for you when you get back. Robby's practically salivating."
Jack knows this whole process well enough to know that the uptick of the corner of Dennis' mouth is a win.
He takes the kid to hydrotherapy, and he pulls some strings so that their first session is just the two of them, gently splashing around in the pool. Jack's not a physiotherapist, but he does understand the tightness around Dennis' eyes at the thought of exposing his new body to yet another perfect stranger.
He stands in the water and holds his arms out, waiting patiently for Dennis to be ready. Lets the kid cling to his arms, huffs a quiet laugh at the small sound he makes the instant he's submerged in the warm water.
"Yeah? Takes away some of that aching, huh?"
Dennis nods, quiet in the way that someone is when they're surprised that a promise has been kept. Jack slowly inches backwards in the water, only a couple of inches, stops when Dennis makes a gutteral, unsteady sound.
"I got you, I got you." The kid's fingers are leaving livid white marks on his biceps, but that's not important. "I'm not gonna let you fall. You remember what we talked about before? About what to do if you start to overbalance?"
"I know how to swim. I lost a leg, not my memory."
"Oh yeah?" Jack grins, gently bobs them both a little in the water. "Well if you remember how to swim, and you remember your piss-poor attitude, why don't you stop doing your best bubble impression and take some baby steps for me?"
Dennis scowls, and the indignation and curiosity almost cancels out his hesitation and fear.
"Shut up. What the hell does that even mean?"
Jack is so very glad he asked.
"Your bubble impression?" He shrugs, deliberately looking away from Denns' legs making their first hesitant shuffles. "Floating there looking pretty, but not doing much else."
"Oh, fuck you."
He's there when Dennis gets his first prosthesis, ready to catch him when the inevitable frustration and disappointment set in at the realisation that the freedom of mobility doesn't come without adjustments.
"Dennis. Look at me." The kid's face is blotchy and red, and he's been studiously avoiding Jack's eyes ever since they got back.
"It's okay to be frustrated. I know it hurts. It's a completely new piece of equipment being attached to a part of your body that never expected to have this attached. There's new pressure, new sensations, and it's all happening to new, sensitive skin, and muscle and bone that are still adjusting. Give yourself some grace, kid."
"I'm - I'm lucky to have this." Dennis spits out. That word again, the tricky sticking point that even Jack never quite got to grips with. "I shouldn't be complaining. There are people far worse off than me."
Jack hums, handing Dennis the antibac wipes and offering no further guidance on cleaning.
"Sure. There are definitely people who are worse off." He sees Dennis' head jerk upwards, finally gets that eye contact he'd been chasing.
"But I'm not talking to them, I'm talking to you. Other people have it worse, and you've still been dealt a shitty hand right now. Both things can be true. You're lucky to have access to the prosthesis and the rehab teams. This -" he gently pats the prosthetic limb like it has its own nerves "-is going to be the thing that gives you your freedom and mobility back. But right now, it's new and it hurts, and it'll take adjustment. Both things can be true."
He shows Dennis his own prosthesis, his own stump, and how the two work together. He was surprised at how intimate and vulnerable it felt, letting Dennis see him remove his leg and care for his stump at the end of a long shift. He was interested by his own tenderness at the process, as he'd long thought he was over any feelings of particular vulnerability where observation was concerned.
But he shared all the small things he'd learned over the years with Dennis. All the little things that nobody without a prosthesis could possibly be expected to know, despite their qualifications, because they were the kind of things you only learnt by living it. He softened when he saw Dennis' face set in such concentration as he told him about tips for dealing with hot weather, felt something in him ache a little tenderly at the expression on the kid's face when Jack talked openly about the need for hygiene and the reality of 12-hour shifts and sweat and residual limb care.
He was there the first time he saw it in Dennis' face; the realisation that different did not negate okay. He was there when the kid met with Robby (and really, it was supposed to be a meeting with administration first, but Jack wasn't stupid) to discuss returning for the rest of his rotation.
He was definitely there when the kid started to look at him with something dangerously close to admiration and worship and - if Robby was to be believed - little tiny hearts in his eyes.
"He's too fucking young for me."
"He's twenty six."
"Too. Fucking. Young. He's all caught up with looking at me as his saviour right now."
"Pretty sure he's seen you at your least glamourous. I don't know if you think you've been some kind of perfect, Florence Nightingale figure with endless pools of patience and grace, but let me tell you that you've been cranky, difficult, downright fucking belligerent, and I've heard you tell the worst fucking jokes in your reportoire. The kid still laughs at them and gives you cow eyes."
theartofmadeline
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
sugurugetos
origamiaround
