#moonyswritinq

“You’re gonna do fine,” Trinity was saying, steering you into the ER—or the Pitt, as they referred to it as—with her arms on your shoulders. “Don’t worry.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “You know I’m not worried about that.”

“Even so,” she chirped. “You’re gonna love everybody.”

“Even Whitaker?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Especially Huckleberry.”

You hummed. “I don’t know, he did steal my spot at your place.”

Now it was Trinity’s turn to roll her eyes. “He didn’t steal anything and it wasn’t even your spot to begin with. I didn’t know you were gonna come study here in Pittsburgh!”

You both knew that you had found a respectable place to live at, although it couldn’t beat living with your sister, and you had decided to exploit that fact as much as you could.

You sent her a wry grin. “Tomatoh—tomahto.”

She shook her head with a dry laugh as you entered the Pitt together.

It was your first day there, transferred from the hospital you had spent your first two years as a medical student when you moved here to Pittsburgh. Partly, it was because of the great things you had heard of the Pitt from your sister, Trinity, and partly it was because you desperately needed to get away from your parents. Changing schools and hospitals gave a much needed excuse to move out of their house.

Trinity’s steps were confident as she led you to what you could only assume was the nurse’s station, weaving between the different nurses and doctors that were rushing back and forth. You glanced at her and couldn’t withhold a small smile. She seemed so secure in her place here, as if she’d finally found a place she could belong to, and you felt nothing but pride for your sister. All those years she had struggled to keep you safe from your parents, sacrificing her own relationships and friendships for your well being and you were glad she was no longer held back by that.

However, you suspected she still felt some sort of obligation for you. If not by the way she was currently introducing you to everybody, then by the way she was still texting you every night and every morning to check in, just like she had done the past six years. You couldn’t blame her, knowing how much she had struggled and that she didn’t want you to go through the same things.

It had took a good while to actually get her to move out of your house in the first place because she hadn’t wanted to leave you alone. You had been forced to assure her that you would be fine without her and could handle your parents by yourself. To her, you would always be her little brother, as she loved to remind you, despite that you had now grown into a fully functioning adult. It had given her great relief now that you were out of the house, though, even if you couldn’t live in the same apartment.

You nodded in greeting to your new attending, Dr. Robby, when he introduced himself. He held himself with a casual confidence, his arms crossed, when he spoke to the rest of the assembled residents. You had already heard a lot about the people here, so it was nice to finally put a face to the names.

“Santos!”

You and Trinity turned your head in unison, only to see that the voice belonged to an older lady whom Trinity had told you was the charge nurse, Dana. She waved her hand and shook her head with a motion that seemed like annoyance.

“Older Santos,” she said.

Trinity gave you a tight lipped smile. “Guess that makes you younger Santos. What about Baby Santos?”

You grimaced. “I don’t like that.”

“I’m needed. I’ll see you later. Robby’ll take care of you.”

With a small salute, she turned on her heel and walked off to the nurse, leaving you standing with the rest of the residents and med students assembled around Robby. You took a quick glance around the faces, seeing one curly-haired blonde already staring at you.

His eyes were flitting all over you, from your face down to your figure, in the same way you were looking over him. When he saw that you were staring at him as well, his eyes widened a fraction and looked away with a haste that made you narrow your eyes. He was biting his lip in a way that could be a nervous tic, but he didn’t look that nervous. He seemed quite sure of himself as he gazed at Robby, though you could imagine that you saw a faint dusting of colour on his cheeks.

On account of you analysing this particular resident, you didn’t notice that Robby had stopped speaking and was currently staring at you.

“So,” Robby said and you startled. “Baby Santos, huh?”

Inwardly, you cursed your air-headedness. “Just Santos is fine.”

“We gotta separate you two somehow.” When he smiled, you noticed the edges of his eyes crinkled, not quite unhandsomely.

“Maybe I could be Cool Santos.”

He let out a snort he didn’t quite manage to smother before looking away. “Alright. You’ll start with Doctor Whitaker over here. We usually have the med students jump around with the residents and attending so you get a good feel of the place. Sound good?” He asked the question as if you had a choice in the matter, which you knew you didn’t, so you nodded.

“Yeah.”

The resident who had been staring at you earlier stepped forward while the rest scattered to get started on their rounds. “Maybe you could start with the aortic dissection in trauma two. Heard the night shift had a blast with that one.”

Whitaker nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Eyes that looked weirdly open and honest, you noted, as you could imagine almost knowing exactly what he was thinking only by looking through them. “Sounds good,” he said.

Robby clamped a hand on your shoulder as he started walking away. “See you later, kid. Hope you can keep up.”

You gave him a weak salute when Whitaker then turned to you. You hummed as you crossed your arms and tilted your head to the side. This time, Whitaker’s smile shone in his eyes just as clear as on his lips. It made your own lip want to quirk up but you managed to school your features into a light scowl as you took him in. You weren’t supposed to like this guy, after all.

“So you’re the famous Whitaker?”

He let out a small laugh at that, a bit shaky at the edges, as if he was nervous. “Uh, famous?” His brows pulled into a frown. “Don’t know about that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit your lip in thought. “Maybe infamous is the better term.”

“What do you mean by that?” Whitaker looked more confused than ever, his shoulders tensed.

You cocked your head at him. How dense was this guy? “Y’know, stealing the only available spot at my sister’s place isn’t the best way to get into my good graces.”

Whitaker’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. His finger lifted to point at you. “You’re Trinity’s brother,” he realised.

A wry smile made its way to your lips. This guy seemed to be an even bigger air-head than you were. “Didn’t you listen earlier?”

“Listen, man—”

You saw him start to wind up what would no doubt be a long explanation that you had neither the desire nor the energy to suffer through, so you held up your hand to stop him. “Don’t worry,” you said and he closed his mouth again, looking a tad deflated. Not unlike a sad puppy, you noted. “There’s no hard feelings, Whitaker. I’m only pulling your leg.”

His shoulders relaxed as he blinked in relief and you saw how the corner of his mouth tilted into a smile again. Despite what you had told him and Trinity, you really couldn’t hold it against either of them that he had gotten the room before you; especially when Trin had had no idea you were coming to Pittsburgh and Whitaker didn’t even know who you were. Besides, looking at Whitaker right now, the way he was shifting from foot to foot and looking at you with a weirdly sweet expression, you would be a monster to base your opinion of him on that. Was that just his normal face or was it because he looking at you?

“I’m starting to see the family resemblance.”

You could feel your lips tug upward in an involuntary motion. “Better get used to it,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “I’m a part of your life now.”

Whitaker made a show of letting out an annoyed groan, but it was negated by the grin he sent you. Combined with the glint in his eye, it looked almost playful, which had something in your stomach flipping in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. That was when he cocked his head, already beginning to turn in the direction of the trauma room Robby had directed you to, beckoning for you to follow him.

He moved seamlessly through the chaos of the ER as he explained everything you two passed, swivelling between the other residents and avoiding to crash into anyone with masterful precision. It seemed that the Pitt was a dance you had yet to learn, but would soon do. If you didn’t drop out, that was.

The thought had been gnawing at you for two years now, always at the back of your mind when you listened to professors drone on about the different medical diagnoses and their side effects, suffering through countless of hours of trying not to fall asleep. It was ever present during the long hours you and your fellow students had stayed up revising difficult medical terms, quizzing each other on things when the ever-present pressure of your memory being the difference between someone’s life and death.

You hadn’t been the same as the other students, you knew. It was painfully obvious when they talked about what they wanted to specialise into, what they were looking forward to, which hospital was their dream, and other questions to which all your answers boiled down to a simple, ‘As long as I can get out’. You didn’t care about the prestige or the status that came with being a doctor, only about the pay check that would inevitably allow you to get away. Where the other students were driven by a passion to get into the medical field, you were driven by a desire to get out of your city.

Trinity had moved out a few years ago when she started studying in Pittsburgh and you, desperate to follow her lead, had figured that going down the medical line was the best way to do so. You were slowly starting to regret that decision, however. The pressure from every day having to put yourself through the process of making yourself into someone that could save lives when all you could really think about was the rhythmic tap of a pen against the desk, the sound of footsteps falling in tandem, or the melody of voices overlapping into an overarching symphony throughout the ER.

You had an affinity for that, to find music in whatever surrounded you, and you realised that you were drawn to whatever you could find a melody in. If we were talking about passion, that’s where yours lied without a doubt. But the way Trinity had looked at you when you told her you were gonna be a doctor, just like her, would have had you believing you hung the moon. She, who rarely showed emotion outside of through her sarcasm, had been so happy and so proud of her baby brother. Now that you were here, there was no way you could disappoint her.

No, you were going to see this thing through, even if it was going to kill you.

The rest of the shift was spent with you alternating between following Whitaker and jumping on different cases with the other residents, and one with the attending, Doctor Robby. It was hectic, busy work and you found yourself getting lost in the flow of it. On one of the cases, you and Whitaker joined up with Trinity to help a teenager who had trouble breathing and pains in his chest. It went smoothly, but Whitaker stayed unusually quiet—unusually from what you had observed so far, as he had been more than happy to ramble on about any of the residents—and opted to observe as you and Trinity traded jabs and comments at each other.

It was refreshing seeing Santos so relaxed, Dennis thought. Of course, during the ten months he had lived with her she had opened up much more and would usually be relaxed around him, but never like this at work. You seemed to bring that out of her, something that pulled her back to when you two were just two kids who didn’t know how to show your love for each other through anything other than bickering. She thrived in the medical setting, Dennis knew, with her casual confidence and assuredness in her own abilities. This, however, was something warmer than he had seen before and he couldn’t help but admire the cheeky smiles you sent her in between the medical jargon.

It was during the early afternoon when he noticed you started slipping. You had just went to help Mohan with a case of hers while he dealt with an elder mother and her daughter, when he noticed you going to the break room with your feet dragging behind you. He bit his lip as he glanced between you and his patient, before quickly shooting them a quick apology and hurried after you.

Inside the break room, the chaos of the ER couldn’t reach you, offering a silence you had taken for granted only a few hours before. You glanced up at him from your spot at the sink when he walked in and shut the door behind him. He stepped forward towards you but caught himself when he saw the glassy look to your eyes. It was such a stark contrast to when he had seen you with Santos just a little while ago that he hesitated.

“Hey, you, uh, you okay?” Dennis asked, still on the other side of the room, uncertain if he should step closer or not.

You gave him a brief smile that tried and failed to mask the way you seemed to be seconds away from breaking down. “You don’t have to pretend like you care just ‘cause you’re my sister’s roommate,” you muttered, focusing on a piece of dried blood under your nail so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

“No, I was just—” Dennis paused, uncertain how to formulate himself. He didn’t want to outright say that it looked like you were so sad you were going to cry. He barely knew you, that would be too forward. Instead he settled on another adjective. “I saw you looked a bit tired?”

That gave you pause, as your hands stilled. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s just that I recognise the signs.” You chanced a glance at him, but he wasn’t looking at you with any open hostility, only a kind sympathetic gaze. Your head tilted to the side that was awfully similar to Santos’, though your motion looked much more gentle than her usual sharp gestures. “Stressed out from med school?” he asked.

You grimaced, looking away before meeting his gaze head on. It was surprisingly heavy, and Dennis found himself trying to memorise every detail of your eyes. Gone was the glaze over your eyes, and instead of looking like you were going to cry you looked suddenly determined. “Please don’t tell Trinity.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t want her to worry about me,” you said, eyes jumping to the door on the lookout for anyone else coming in. This was really bothering you, Dennis could tell, despite the limited time you had spent together. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t doubt it, but—” he started.

“But what?”

Dennis scratched the back of his neck and stepped closer so that he also leant against the counter, side to side with you. “It’s not really healthy to go on until burn out,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “If you need a break you should take it before you crash.”

The corner of your mouth turned upward as your brows raised in a question. “Who says I’m gonna burn out?”

“No, uh, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Dennis cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your eyes swept over him and he felt a weird itch as you scrutinised him, suddenly feeling awfully pit on the spot. “What do you recommend then? As a break?” Thankfully, you adverted your eyes shortly afterwards, relieving him of your piercing gaze.

He huffed a surprised laugh. He wasn’t prepared to be asked about his own interests by you. “Oh, I like going out to the country,” he said. “Y’know, I grew up on a farm, so being out on one again always makes me relax.”

“Hm. I’m more of a city guy, myself.” This time, your gaze was more calculating than the last time, as if that information had changed your view of him.

Hopefully for the better, Dennis thought. Then he found himself wondering why he wanted you to think well of him? He had just met you and so far you had mostly made teasing comments that had him playing catch-up with you. Still, he felt drawn to you—whether it was the way you looked at him so intently, like you wanted to note everything he did and said, or if it was the way you spoke to him like you actually cared what he had to say.

Too often, Dennis felt overlooked by other people. Growing up, his brothers usually took the spotlight and he was considered the least out of the four of them. That had improved greatly since he had received his official residency status, but still his soft appearance often made people underestimate or discard him. Patients tended to trust him because he looked nice, but outside of the ER it was difficult to have people take him seriously. You looked at him as if that wasn’t even a thought in your head and he felt oddly naked under your perceiving gaze, suppressing a shiver when you kept staring at him.

“I like music. That’s what makes me relax,” you said finally, pulling Dennis out of his thoughts.

His brows raised in surprised. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Mostly indie,” you shrugged. “A bit of rock. But I like most genres. As long as there’s a nice chorus for me to sing along with.”

Dennis was already nodding before you finished your sentence in a manner he hoped didn’t look too lame. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said, rather lamely.

“You know,” you started, shifting to lean your hip against the counter so that you were facing Dennis, “I’m in a band. We have a gig tonight. You should come.” Your smile made it impossible for Dennis not to return it.

“Really? That’s cool.” He mentally berated himself for not coming up with something better to say, but your words had surprised him. “I’ll, uh, be there.” 

You pushed yourself from the counter, walking backwards towards the break room door. “See you later, Huckleberry,” you said with a wink at him.

If he wasn’t so distracted by your use of the nickname, he would have blushed. Instead, he groaned. “Not you too.”

Your knowing smile turned into a frown when you paused at the door. “Thanks, by the way,” you said. “For the talk.”

“Of course, anytime.” Dennis nodded, licking his lips as he tried to process that whole interaction before going back to work. Suddenly, his evening looked much more appealing.

After a few more hours of gruelling work, you were finally free. It was almost with a run that you went to the lockers to change out of your scrubs and grab your things. After the talk with Whitaker, you had felt better, but the pressure of today had still been weighing on you. You couldn’t wait to go take your long awaited ‘break’ with your band that night.

Just as you were about to walk out of the doors, Trinity stopped you with a hand on your arm. “A few of us are going out for post-shift drinks,” she said, cocking her head. “You coming with?”

You gave her an apologetic smile as you shook your head. “Nah, I got a gig tonight. I’ll come with next time.”

She gave you a knowing glance. “Alright. Good luck with that.” She knew how much you loved your music and your band, despite refusing to ever come watch one of your gigs. Something about not wanting to watch all the teenage girls thirst over her brother, she had said with a laugh. Instead, she turned to the person walking out behind you. “Huckleberry?”

“Oh, uh, no,” he said. “I have, uh, something. Else.” Whitaker’s eyes shot to you before quickly going back to her, his smile uneven. It was amazing how bad he was at coming up with an excuse, you thought with a small smile.

Trinity’s head tilted to the side as she looked between you two and then she shrugged. Whatever the reason why Whitaker acted so weird she frankly didn’t care to find out. “Hm. Right. See you at home, then.” Whitaker nodded as he separated from the group.

He had a little time before your gig was supposed to start, only enough for him to get back home and take a quick shower. You had texted him all the information when you had asked Santos for his number, so he had time to prepare for tonight. Why he felt he needed some time to prepare or get ready, he wasn’t sure. It was just a gig, something that you had mentioned because you wanted more people there, not because you wanted him personally there.

Still, he found himself fussing with his hair. Changing between three different outfits before settling on one good enough. Choosing carefully which cologne to put on. One part of his brain told him he was ridiculous for worrying about all of this. Another told him that you had invited him out of everyone and that had to count for something. Right? And the fact he wanted to fix himself—to essentially make himself pretty for you—he refused to acknowledge.

By the time Dennis finally made it to the bar you had sent him the address of, your band had started making its way onto the stage. He couldn’t see you, but by the sound of the many people crowding the locale, you were about to step out any moment. Hastily, Dennis started weaving through the people to get as near the stage as he could, ignoring their mutterings or cursing when he bumped into someone. He threw a quick apology over his shoulder but it was drowned out by the sudden ear shattering applause around him.

When he turned his eyes forward, he forgot about anything else as that was the moment you stepped on stage. There was something about the way you carried yourself, how you smiled and winked at the audience, that was so different from the person he had met earlier that day in the ER. It was like you were a whole different person. Gone was the guy who stressed out because of school or who was worried about what his sister thought of him, and instead all Dennis saw was a guy who was confident in his skills to entertain a whole crowd this evening and planned on delivering.

And deliver you did, alright. Dennis watched you sing your heart out, dancing all over the stage and with your bandmates in a way that both looked so natural and so impressive. He could do nothing but lamely applaud at the end of every song, too wrapped up by the sight of you on stage to even have a coherent thought. At one moment, you were beckoning for the audience to sing with you, leaning lower on stage to make closer eye contact with the people at the front—you knew the audience loved that, and loved you for it—and you had found Dennis’ eye in the crowd. He didn’t think he was imagining the wink he had seen on your face, especially not as a chorus of screams had erupted after the gesture, but with the way his heart was acting up, he couldn’t be too sure that he wasn’t seeing things.

Dennis had to agree with the rest of the audience when they kept screaming compliments and professing their love in between your songs, even though he couldn’t voice those thoughts. There was something so attractive about a guy looking as casual on stage as you did: like you belonged. And the fact that you knew you were hot up there probably helped as well. Dennis didn’t have long to contemplate over those thoughts because when you heard everyone yelling at you to take your shirt off and your laugh echoed through the mic, he could swear that his heart actually stopped. He really was no better than these other teenage girls, he thought grimly.

Luckily, your set was almost finished, and with one last song you and your bandmates bid the audience farewell and goodnight. Dennis could finally breathe normally, safe from the overwhelming presence of you. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to look at you tomorrow, knowing that the med student he had thought you were was actually a guy fit enough to be a rock star.

He decided to hang back for a bit, letting everyone else stream out of the bar to the wardrobe. Instead, he made his way to the bar for a much needed drink and to get some space. It wasn’t a long respite, however, as you soon had made your way to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder as a greeting.

Instantly, Whitaker’s face lit up with a big grin. “Hey!” he greeted and you thought you could see a faint dusting of red on his cheeks. In fact, he looked overly hot and bothered, and you were suddenly worried that something was wrong with him.

“You good there, Whitaker?” you asked. Your eyes jumped from his eyes to his cheeks and you decided against checking his temperature with the back of your hand. “Looking a lil flushed.”

He ignored your question with a wave of his hand as his eyes stayed trained on you. “You were amazing up there! You didn’t mention you were the singer!” he said, holding up an accusatory finger in your direction.

You laughed, leaning against the counter of the bar that he was sitting at. You shot an easy smile to some passer goers, whom immediately broke into whispers and giggles, but thankfully did not come up to interrupt you. When you turned back to Whitaker, your smile had turned slightly bashful. “Oh, thanks,” you said with a wave of your hand. “That was nothing.”

“If that was your nothing I’d like to see what your all looks like,” he replied, rather cheekily if you could say so yourself.

“Really?” A smirk formed on your face, not being entirely able to keep the glee from your face.

“Really.” His eyes were wide and looked to be full of wonder and you were quite taken aback by the honesty in both his gaze and his words. It shocked you to feel how your stomach flipped from something as simple as Dennis Whitaker gazing at you with such an open-hearted expression. It felt weird and yet you weren’t displeased by the fact.

You had to clear your throat to again be able to speak—such an impact did Dennis have on you. “Heard you just recently got your resident status. Congrats.”

Dennis immediately perked up and leant closer to you. “Yeah, uh, thanks! You’ll get there soon.” You couldn’t keep the wince from showing on your face and Dennis’ head tilted to the side. “Something wrong?”

Your teeth found the edge of your lip, biting down on it as your eyes strayed away from Dennis’ face. “No. Well, maybe.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

A smile formed on your face at the question. Ever so considerate, Dennis was. “I’m just not that sure about med school,” you said.

“No?”

“I mostly applied because Trin did it, because look at how well she’s doing!” you said, eyes going back to Dennis. You missed the way he grimaced at that, but he kept his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. You clearly needed to get something off your chest and he’d be damned if he was the reason you weren’t able to. “I don’t know if you know, but we don’t have the greatest parents.”

He nodded hesitantly at that. “I’ve heard some things about them, yeah.”

“Well, I needed to get away as well.” You shrugged and Dennis resisted the urge to reach out to you then. “Med school seemed like the easiest option.”

“You thought med school was gonna be easy?” he asked with a snort he wasn’t quite able to smother. The humour in his tone made your smile turn soft.

“Ironic, I know.”

Dennis sobered up then, his eyes doing that captivating thing again where you felt you could be falling through them forever. “What do you want to do, then?” he asked thoughtfully.

You opened your mouth to answer but paused. The easy answer of ‘medicine’ was all too ready to slip off your tongue, the way it had done so many times before when you had been asked. But the way Dennis asked you, like he knew you, and the way he looked at you, like he could see right through you. Whatever you saw in his eyes, it made you want to tell him the truth.

So, you did. “I’ve always wanted to be a singer.”

“No surprise there.” He huffed a laugh. “But, if you’re not enjoying med school, why are you still here?”

You bit your lip again in that nervous habit of yours and saw how Dennis’ eyes followed the movement before shooting up as soon as you began speaking. “Trinity was so happy when she heard I was following in her footsteps and I can’t possibly give up and let her down now.” You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep yourself steady. “It’s just.. I’m under so much pressure, I’m not sure how much more I can take before I crack.”

One side of Dennis’ mouth quirked up. “Santos would start calling you Crack if you did,” he said.

“Not funny.” You settled him with a glare that you couldn’t entirely muster up the displeasure for. 

“Sorry,” he grinned wider.

You shrugged helplessly. “And not to mention all that student debt I’m in.” You slumped against the counter, holding your head up with one of your hands. “I’m not sure I can get out this late in the game.”

Dennis swallowed thickly when he saw you look up at him through your eyelashes just so and he had to remember to keep his eyes on the upper part of your face. He forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand, and not let his thoughts go wandering of how you could look up at him like that in other situations and positions.

“There’s always time to get out,” he said, clearing his throat. “Listen, being a doctor is a lot. My professor used to say that it will ‘chew, swallow, and spit every one of you out’.” He let out a small laugh at that and your lips lifted, watching the scene with a fond amusement. “He liked to be dramatic. But the point stands that if you don’t have the burning passion you will not make it in this line of work.”

You nodded absentmindedly, but knew in the back of your mind that Dennis was right. You weren’t in med school and on the way to become a doctor out of a passion you had but out of necessity. That was no way to live your life. Looking at Dennis then made you realise that, seeing him be so sure of himself and his decision for a future. You wanted that for yourself as well, to be happy and proud of what it is you’ve done with your life. Of course, you would have been proud to be a doctor, but you also suspect it would have been killing you slowly to not pursue what you wanted to do.

Despite his good advice, you couldn’t help but tease Dennis, raising your brow into a sceptical frown. “Are you saying I’m weak, Whitaker?”

His mouth immediately formed into an ‘o’, and his expression shifted with a quiver of his brows. “What—no, absolutely not!”

“Relax, I’m joking,” you interrupted, taking hold of his drink and taking a sip from it. Dennis watched the gesture with an appraising glance but he refrained from voicing any thoughts that could be running through his head. The only give-away to what those could be was the way his eyes kept glancing between your eyes and further south, to your lips. “And anyway,” you continued, “that is just a distant dream. Not sure I would even make it.”

“I think you could,” Dennis said.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m being serious.” You looked into his eyes and true enough, there was nothing but his usual honesty there. Weirdly enough, you trusted it without a second thought. After a moment of hesitation, he continued. “You were amazing and, like, a whole different person up there! I don’t know, it just seemed like you were really being yourself.”

It was your turn to hesitate, the words pausing on the tip of your tongue as you smiled at him. When you reached out to squeeze his arm, you could feel his muscles tense under your touch. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The faint dusting of red was back on his cheeks and this time it seemed to extend to his neck. He ducked his head as if it would prevent you from seeing any of it. “Of course, uh, anytime!” he said with a grin.

It made your tilt your head, the way he was so unashamedly himself when talking to you. It was refreshing, to say the least, and something that made you want to lean even closer to him. “So,” you drawled, “you really think I could make a career out of it?”

“Definitely.” His grin seemed to light up his entire face as he spoke. “I saw the way these people looked at you. I bet some would show up to your concerts just to get a glimpse of you.”

You couldn’t help the snort that came out of you, nor the warmth that suddenly rushed to your cheeks. Had Dennis just confessed to what you thought he had? Some small part of you wished you read him right, but the way he was leaning towards you and looking at you with eyes that basically said ‘fuck me please’, you thought you were right.

“I’d rather they showed up because they liked my music,” you said, letting a smile form on your lips. “But good to know you find me so attractive, Whitaker.”

Dennis was in the middle of taking a sip from his drink, one which he then choked on upon hearing you say those words. He held one hand out in front of him as he tried to gather his breath, voice still croaking when he spoke. “I, uh, didn’t mean it like that.”

Had you read him wrong? You glanced between the way he was leant forward on his elbow, almost as far as he could, and how his own eyes kept jumping all over your face. Almost as if he was afraid that if he concentrated too hard you would disappear, not unlike the way an optical illusion was only there until you focus too much on it. The urge to grab his chin and force his eyes to stick to yours, the way they had earlier that evening, was almost overwhelming. Your blush deepened as your thoughts turned down that route, but it was already too late to stop them.

And it was with thunder in your ears and fire on your cheeks that you said the next words. “Hmm. Shame.”

Dennis eyes’ widened a fraction and finally stayed on yours, though you he knew wanted to stray south by the way he was licking his lips. You would be lying if you said you weren’t having the same thoughts he was probably having. It was difficult to tell underneath the dim light of the now almost empty bar, but you thought you could see his cheeks get darker. Then, with one deep breath he leant forward and downed the rest of his drink. Your eyebrows raised at the motion, but your lips quirked up when Dennis spoke again.

“You know,” he started, “I’ve always had this thing for musicians. Especially singers.”

You tried to school your features into a casual grin despite the way your heart was thundering in your chest at his words. “You don’t say?”

Now that Dennis had leant closer, you could be sure of the furious blush that was coating his face. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Huh.” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You ever acted on it?”

“No, hadn’t had the chance,” he said and you thought you could detect a hint of hopefulness in his words. He was looking at you through his lashes in a way that made it very hard not to start your wishful thinking.

Your eyes dropped to Dennis’ lips, the way they were parted slightly in a silent gasp, his tongue peeking out to wet them, and your brain all but short circuited. “Maybe this could be that chance then,” you said carefully, watching for his reaction.

Dennis’ breath caught and he tried not to get ahead of himself as you slowly leant closer. You pushed off the counter and stepped in between Dennis’ parted legs, looking down at him. It was with a bated breath that he watched your hand come up to cradle his face and his head tilted towards the touch, sending shivers down your spine. When he made no resistance, you leant down and saw his eyes flutter shut as his hands reached for your waist to pull you closer to him.

When your lips met his, he let out a small noise of surprise that you swallowed with your mouth. His hands gripped you tighter and the sensation made you moan into Dennis’ mouth. He moved against you, eager and excited for every touch of your skin against his. His lips were soft but the way he was pressing them against yours was bordering on bruising. Your other hand reached up to run through his curls and he melted into the touch, embracing you even further. When you felt his body even closer, a deep warmth started to form in the pit of your stomach.

You pulled away from Dennis with a dry chuckle, knees bending so your forehead could lean against his shoulder. The kiss had made you lightheaded and you felt like a little schoolboy with a crush. “Trinity would give me so much shit if she knew I was hooking up with her Huckleberry right now.”

Dennis tilted his head down to look at you, an incredulous expression on his face that made you want to burst into laughter. “Her Huckleberry? Does she really refer to me that way?”

“No, but you’re her roommate,” you hummed. “Can’t really refer to you as mine, can I?” Your eyes stayed trained on his face as your mouth moved against his skin, kissing your way from his chin down to his throat. His throat moved as he audibly swallowed beneath your lips.

His lips opened when a low moan slipped out and the noise made blood rush straight down. “Hu—ohh, um, mmph—no—uhh.” His words were shaky and interrupted by the low noises made from the back of his throat.

Your lips quirked up in a sly smile. “Maybe not yet, at least.”

Dennis’ hand pushed against your chest and you backed up, a question written all over your eyes. He looked almost pained to do so, as if the gesture to push you away required any actual strength from him. If you looked anything similar to how he did at that moment—lips red from kissing you so hard, cheeks flushed and a dopey smile to accompany the joyful glint in his eyes—then you understood the difficulty to do so.

He cleared his throat while his hands squeezed your waist softly. “Santos would also give me so much shit if she knew I kissed her brother.”

Your head tilted to the side, grimacing. “I’m more than just her brother, you know.”

“Yes, well, of course, but you know what I mean,” he said, grinning at you.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. “You might have to show me what you mean.” You shot him a wink that got him rolling his eyes before you pressed your lips to his throat again. Dennis immediately melted against your touch and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. Dennis had such an effect on you that gone were the troubling thoughts of your doubts around being a doctor, and he seemed to be relishing in being able to touch you so intimately. “And let’s make sure Trin doesn’t find out about this, then,” you whispered against his skin.

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ could potentially do a part two where the reader and Santos bond over not doing so well and get even closer. Santos would also then find out about Dennis and him and give them soooooo much shit lol