#tw choking

Your stomach buzzes as Ellis approaches you, a smug look on her face, tablet tucked beneath her arm. Her eyes flick past you, making sure that Dennis is within earshot, stifling a laugh into her hand. 

“Hey,” She greets. You casually look up from your computer, giving her a smile. 

“Hi,” You say. 

“No makeup kinda’ day, huh?” She says. You let out a wavering exhale, keeping yourself from breaking before responding. 

“Oh, uh, no,” You say. “I’m wearing makeup.”

“Seriously?” She asks, sounding as agog as possible. “Damn, rough night?”

From behind you, Dennis looks towards the interaction, his brows furrowing at the out of character comments coming from Ellis. He frowns when he realizes that she’s talking to you, watching as you lean away from her and defensively cross your arms over your chest. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to act offended. “Does it not look nice?”

“I mean…” She trails off, purposefully looking at Dennis again, just for a split second. “You’ve definitely had better days.”

Dennis waits for your response, knowing that you can take care of yourself, but also having to fight the anger that grows in his chest. Ellis is your friend, is she not? Why the hell is she talking to you like this?

“What the fuck, Ellis?” 

You recognize the voice without needing to turn around, but even if you couldn’t, the look on Ellis’ face would be a dead giveaway. Her eyes widen, and she ducks her head towards you. 

“Say nice things at my funeral,” She mutters. You actually laugh, just in time for Jack to make his way over, aggressively setting a hand down on the counter to stop Ellis from going anywhere. 

“Shouldn’t you be focused on handover?” He asks, the veins in his forearms popping, a probing look on his face. Your eyes go wide, face heating up as you try to hold in another laugh when Ellis turns to you. “Don’t look at her.”

“Jesus, Abbot, it was just-”

“I heard you’re applying for an ultrasound fellowship next year,” He says, lowering his voice, cutting her off. “I’ll be keeping the way you speak to your colleagues in mind when you ask for a recommendation letter.”

“Oh my god,” You say, laughing through the words, your jaw dropping at the end of the sentence. “We were just fucking around, Jack, I wanted to mess with Dennis a little. You weren’t even supposed to hear that.”

His head snaps to look at you, brows still furrowed threateningly, but they slowly relax as he takes in your words. 

“What?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, looking at Dennis. “You hearing this, Whitaker?”

Dennis clears his throat. “Uhm, yeah, yes. I thought it seemed out of character, but-”

“But what?” Jack asks. “You were gonna’ let someone talk to her like that?”

“Jack!” You exclaim, standing up, setting a hand on top of his. “You kinda’ stepped in before he had a chance.”

He squints, looking back at Ellis. “You didn’t mean it?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” She asks. “She’s who I think about whenever I hear ‘Lips of an Angel.’”

You snort. “You’re an idiot.”

Dennis is standing behind you now, his hands on the back of your chair, his shoulders back slightly as though good posture will somehow convince Jack to not be mad at him. You sit back down, and his hands slip onto your shoulders, fingers tapping against you. Jack gives you and Ellis a final glare, then walks off to check on the most recent trauma patient. 

“You almost got me killed,” Ellis says, laughing, jabbing a finger in your direction accusatorily. “The only person I thought would be getting mad at me was your fiancé, and at least I could take him in a fight.”

“Sorry, you think you could take him in a fight?” You ask. “You know I love you, but you’re losing that one, babe.”

“Oh, why, cause he spends his free time carrying hay?” She asks, sarcastically, lifting her arm up and flexing, her bicep bulging against her scrub top. “You’re going down, funky music.”

“Luckily we don’t have to find out,” Dennis says. “But now Abbot thinks I’m a wimp, so, thank you for that.”

You look over your shoulder, smiling innocently. “He’s just protective, he actually really likes you.”

Dennis scoffs, smiling back at you. “Sure seems like it.”

Later that night, long after the dayshift has gone home, Ellis checks her phone between patients, tapping on a notification from you. She can’t figure out what the picture is at first, but then she turns her brightness up, realizing it’s Dennis’ arm, bicep flexed and veins pressing against his skin. 

Around your fucking neck. 

‘Still think you could take him?’

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