Huckleberry's era

Robby: Jack:

Like, Robby tells Jack something that happened at work?

“Dennis, honey, come here, you have to hear this too.”

Jack makes a joke that makes Robby smile after a bad shift?

“Hey, Den, listen to this—”

They make plans to go somewhere after their shift?

"Dennis, do you want to come with us?"

But let's just say all this didn't come out of nowhere, but from something that happened a few months before.

Jack and Robby are sitting at the table over breakfast, talking about their college years, giggling as they talk about all the stupid things they've done.

“What are you laughing about?” asks Dennis, entering the kitchen in Robby's T-shirt and Jack's shorts.

“Oh, nothing, honey,” says Jack, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You wouldn't understand.”

And Dennis's face went from calm to completely destroyed, because he'd heard that phrase his whole life: his brothers excluding him because he was the youngest and the black sheep, his classmates, from elementary school to high school, asking him to step away from the group for a few minutes because they had to talk about things he had nothing to do with.

And every time he stood there, his hands clasped in front of his body, waiting for someone to notice him, waiting for the moment when he would be the first choice, waiting—

"No, no, hey, Denny, we were just talking about when we were in college, we didn't mean to leave you out."

He was brought back to reality by Robby's hand on his thigh and Jack's on his shoulder.

He had the face of a beaten puppy, his shoulders slumped, as if trying to make himself as small as possible.

"No, it's okay, I mean, it's your business, you're the married couple, I understand if you don't want me to be a part of it." He gave a tentative smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"But we want to, we want you to know everything, we want you to be in our business."

Jack planted a kiss on his cheekbone, while Robby ruffled his hair.

"You'll always be the first one we think of to share our thoughts with."

First, first choice, mh, that sounded good.

"No." He said, dry and incisive, pulling his shirt back on quickly.

Robby and Jack exchanged a look, understanding each other without having to say a word. The silver-haired man sighed, running a hand over his bare stomach and stroking his husband's calf with his foot from across the bed.

"We're not saying we have to tell the whole hospital, but you know, at least Dana, Samira, your friends, damn it, Trinity already knows."

"We don't want to love you in secret. It breaks my heart every time I get to kiss Robby in front of everyone to say goodbye, while I have to nod to you."

Dennis sighed, feeling that familiar heaviness in his chest as he pulled Robby's baggy shorts back on, finally turning to face the two still half-naked men.

“I don't care, you know it. I don't understand why you're making a big deal about it.” He reached for his phone, hoping to find an excuse to leave, but Robby was quicker, taking the object in his hands and snatching it out of his reach.

“No, we don't understand why you're making a big deal about it.”

He groaned, almost a growl, trying to grab the phone from Robby.

“If it's something about—something about religion or sin or whatever, then—” Jack began, and Dennis finally exploded.

“You think I'd like to be called the Pitt's whore?!” he screamed, finally managing to grab his phone.

He froze, realizing what he'd said.

“What?” Robby asked in a small voice.

One breath, two, three.

“Oh, come on.” He said, cursing himself when he realized his voice was cracking.

“What do you think everyone's going to say? People talk, you know. Look, there's Dennis Whitaker, the one who only managed to become a doctor by sucking the dicks of not one but two attendings.”

Jack tried to touch him, but he moved away.

“It's just—ah, I don't know, I know I shouldn't care what anyone thinks, I just worked my ass off to be here, and it bothers me to think that if we were to come out, everyone would think it's because I'm a—”

“Hey, hey, calm down now, there's no need for all this self-flagellation.”

Robby had approached, slow as a cat, and started wiping the tears from Dennis's cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Damn, he hadn't realized he'd started crying.

“We’re sorry you feel that way, and we’re sorry we pushed you, but if anyone ever dares to assume these things about you, I’ll kick their ass.” Jack had moved too, gently caressing Dennis’s clothed shoulder before planting a kiss on his neck.

“I’m not ashamed of you, I’m not ashamed of being gay, not anymore, but—”

“We understand.” Robby pulled him close, resting the boy’s face against his chest, inhaling the scent of the citrus shampoo he loved to use.

“When you’re ready, not before.”

He felt Jack’s hand, warm and large, caressing his back, slipping under the fabric to remove his shirt.

And even if only the walls of that house knew their love, for now that was enough.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me!” the older man exclaimed, as he removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and pinched it between two fingers, wanting to be anywhere but there.

“It's a pleasure for me too, Michael. I was hoping not to see you until Friday when you were going to pick up Emma for the weekend, but apparently I'm an unlucky man.”

Dennis finished his speech with a dramatic shrug, still dressed in his scrubs, as he looked at his ex-husband lying in bed, his leg in a cast and his arm in a sling.

After the divorce (or as Trinity liked to call it, “the day Huckleberry pulled his head out of his ass”), a lot had changed: they'd split all their jointly purchased possessions, signed joint custody papers, torn up wedding photos, and cried in secret like kids.

Robby thought he'd completely eliminated Dennis from his life (except for Emma, ​​of course), and yet he always had the feeling that he had forgotten something, and now he had finally discovered what it was:

He had forgotten to remove Dennis's number from his emergency contacts.

“Listen, you don't have to—”

“Try to imagine how happy I was when my boss ran to tell me my ex-husband was in the hospital after an accident on his damn motorcycle. Do you even know how fast I drove to get here at the Pitt? I think I got a few speeding tickets.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Were you worried about me?” he asked, his tone a mix of sarcasm and amusement.

“Don't you dare to—”

“Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think I should update you on Mr. Robinavitch's condition.”

Dana entered the room, her clipboard clutched tightly and a small smile on her lips.

Broken leg, dislocated shoulder, bruises on his face and palms.

“—and we're lucky you were wearing a helmet. Anyway, there's no way you're going home alone, so either you get a caregiver for a few weeks, or—” Dana lowered her glasses, looking at Dennis.

They both widened their eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Robby exclaimed, hissing and cursing when he moved his arm too much.

“Don't be such a baby, Robinavitch, it's up to you: a stranger in your house while you're incapable of peeing alone, or your ex-husband, who, I might add, is the only one who can stand you.”

She didn't wait for either of them to say anything, then left the room and gave them some privacy.

They looked at each other, unspoken words lingering in the small room before the silence was broken by Dennis's sigh.

"Don't think I'm happy about this, I'm only doing it because Emma will be happy to have her dad home for a while."

He took his phone from his pocket, calling his boss to let him know he wouldn't be able to return to work.

Robby threw his head back, gently bumping the headboard and biting his tongue to keep from swearing again.

It was going to be a very, very long cohabitation.

Dennis who, unable to confess his feelings to Robby before he leaves for his sabbatical, decides to give in to the compliments of Abbot, the best friend of the man he has a crush on, and begins a relationship with him full of sex and "no" feelings.

They fuck everywhere: in Jack's car, in Dennis's apartment, in the bathrooms at the Pitt.

And yet, Jack's favorite place to fuck seems to be Robby's bedroom. There, he pushes Dennis's head against the mattress, or pulls his hair and makes him look at the bookcase on the wall. He shoves his cock in his pussy, his ass, his throat, calling him his "good boy" and his "pretty whore."

When one night, after they've fucked, Dennis asks Jack why Robby's room, the man shrugs, saying something about the man having a really comfortable bed.

So he forgets about it.

But oh, if only he had noticed the little camera hidden in one of the many books in the library, and if only he knew how much Robby enjoys hearing his moans.

Emma had come into their lives like… the meteorite that made the dinosaurs extinct came for those big green lizards.

Jack and Robby had made an agreement, decades earlier, when they were still college students, and their relationship was just blossoming: no children, whether adopted or anything else, they wouldn't have time for them, and besides, two alphas raising a child wasn't well-liked in their day.

So they lived a life without pups, worrying only about each other.

Until one morning in May, they met him.

Dennis Whitaker was from Nebraska, from a family of all betas, he was the last born, a little omega who had never quite managed to feel like he belonged.

Robby fell in love with him when Dennis gently quoted a Bible passage to him, and Jack did the same when the boy put a hand on his shoulder while they were on the roof.

It was only a matter of months before their friendship became something more, and no one seemed to have anything to say about it.

But then, one April morning, Dennis came to them, his hands shaking and his eyes shining, clutching a small plastic stick.

Two red lines

“You can get rid of it,” Jack said instinctively, without thinking, looking at Dennis’s belly, angry at that creature, still nameless and shapeless, that had disrupted their plans.

As if he had been stabbed, Dennis pulled back, clutching his stomach.

“We don’t… we don’t want pups, Dennis,” Robby said, clasping his hands behind his head.

Dennis said things that would have made his poor mother have a heart attack before slamming the door behind him as he left the apartment.

And so it ended, a little less than a year after it began, but it was only right. Dennis wanted puppies, of course he did, and Robby and Jack didn't. It couldn't last, they just had to swallow that bitter pill and move on.

Dennis didn't look at them, he didn't say a word, he pretended they weren't there. His friend Trinity was the same, if not worse, giving them death stares and (on purpose) spilling a cup of lukewarm coffee on Robby, saying a halfhearted apology before leaving.

It was easy, at first, to pretend it had never happened.

But then Dennis's little bump became a full-blown belly, everyone complimented him, everyone put reassuring hands on his shoulders and palms on his back.

and Robby and Jack realized they hated that, and the realization that they considered Dennis their omega, the same omega who was carrying their kid, hit them like a train.

They tried to talk to him, asking how he was and if he needed someone to take him to visits. They asked him if he had already bought everything, if he needed money, a crib, bottles, or diapers. They even told him he could move back in with them if Santos's apartment wasn't big enough.

And every time, the answer was always the same:

"Go fuck yourself."

One morning in mid-November, Emma Whitaker was born with the loudest scream the PTMC birthing ward had ever heard.

They waited two days before plucking up the courage to go visit them, praying that Dennis would agree.

He didn't let either of them pick her up, he just let them look at her over the small crib, while she clenched her little fists rhythmically.

Jack and Robby thought that maybe that was heaven, and that their angel had chubby, rosy cheeks, no teeth, and a strong desire to babble even though she wasn't understood.

And as they watched that scene, with Dennis lying in bed, his eyes tired but happy, as he reached out to the crib to stroke his little girl's nose with a finger, a thought crossed their minds:

We're idiots.

Angst, but it's Robby who finds Jack under the table on the night of the Fourth of July, his hands pressed tightly to his ears, so tightly the marks will remain for hours. He keeps his eyes closed, knees to his chest, mutters incomprehensible words and cries long after the fireworks have stopped.

Angst, but it's Dennis who finds Robby on the roof, staring into space, an inch too far over the railing. The wind ruffles his short hair, he sees his hands clenching in his pockets, his teeth biting his cheek as if he's thinking this is the only way.