summary: are you more of a coffee or tea person?
warnings: fluff, awkward conversations, unestablished relationship, workplace avoidance, semi slow burn, awkward flirting, obvious physical & sexual tension, medical themes and terminology, themes of stress, exhaustion and burnouts
notes: this takes place in between season 1 and 2, there are no spoilers. for ff reasons, your last name is Maris, can’t really have an IM doctor without a name, and I’m not using y/n. this might come in parts, don’t know how many, no promises. this happens over the course of weeks/months, hence the time jumps. (in no way is this related to the scenes involved or the season as a whole. before anyone gets confused, his name is dennis, i like calling him denny, it’s cutesy.)
The break room smelled of burnt coffee, lemon sanitizer and granola bars, the usual 7 a.m. perfume of the ER. Five hours into your shift and you’re already regretting the shoe choice, already feels like the day was pressing in on every pressure point possible. Syncope, reviewing labs, taking histories, charting. So much charting; admission, consults, discharges.
You pushed open the break‑room door with your hip, balancing a paper cup of black coffee you definitely didn’t have time to remake another hot one. You held the door open for Dana, who was busy complaining about a difficult patient who was giving Dr. McKay a hard time, letting out a quick sigh of disbelief.
And that’s when you noticed him.
Denny, standing by the counter with Victoria, both waiting impatiently for the coffee machine to pour out hot liquid. His badge is crooked, scrub sleeves rolled up to his mid forearm. Victoria is the first one to notice you and Dana, giving you both a small smile. “We’ve got a new pot brewing if you want.” She steps aside, just enough room for you to grab another cup.
Dana smirks, peeking over Victoria’s shoulder to watch the pot as it filled up. “Bless you two. You’re saving lives out here.”
Denny glances over his shoulder at the two of you, then immediately looks back at the machine like it’s suddenly fascinating. You pretend not to notice because a majority of your interactions consisted of eye tag and awkward conversation. Like last Tuesday when he stopped you in between patients to ask if the vending machine took singles. Or when you two were stuck gathering more supplies during a super busy shift and he complimented you on your pen color.
He was really cute though. So cute. In a sad, soft, wet puppy kinda way. And that new haircut didn’t help your case of subtle ogling. But every time you talked to him it felt like someone had unplugged all of his social wiring. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the stress of the fluorescent lighting to his head.
Maybe it was just because the two of you together created some kind of awkward gravitational field that affected the universe— you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he’d look at you like he wanted to talk about something real, and then end up asking about glove sizes and coffee grounds. Somehow it only made him even more cute and more frustrating at the same time.
You ignore Dana’s persistent elbow nudging, moving toward the counter and naturally standing beside him. “Morning,” you mumbled quickly, keeping it neutral as you stared at the dark brown liquid reaching the top of the coffee pot.
Denny startles like he didn’t expect you to speak. “Oh— hey. Morning.”
Victoria’s eyes flick between the two of you, subtle but amused. Dana catches it and smirks.
Victoria is the first one to try to break the ice, leaning forward against the counter. “Rough morning?”
“Rough night, rough morning. Doesn’t really get easier,” you admitted, setting your cup down and letting Victoria reach for the coffee pot once it beeped.
Denny shifts beside her, and from the corner of your eye you could see him fidgeting with the mug in his hands as he listened. He glances at you, then at the floor, then at the pot as Victoria hands it to him, decidedly more interested in the potentially conversation between the two of you than caffeine.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Um…it— it kinda does. I mean, not like… easy easy, but… you get better at being tired? I guess?”
You look over at him in obvious confusion, and he immediately looks away, ears going pink as he focuses on pouring himself a decent amount of coffee. You quickly glanced over at Dana to which she returned a quiet shrug like she wasn’t sure what he was trying to get at.
He hesitates for a moment, silently handing you the coffee pot as he scratched the side of his head. “I just mean— you start figuring out which parts of the day are gonna suck and which parts are less… sucky? And then you, uh… survive them. Better.”
You poured yourself a cup, glancing up at him as Dana whispered a surprised ‘wow’ under her breath. You thought about what he said for a moment, setting the pot back in its place before taking a long sip. Oddly enough, you were sort of understanding what he was trying to get at. Or at least, you think you understood.
You finally looked up at him, and you willed yourself to pretend not to notice that he’d been looking at you this whole time. “Huh… I guess I didn’t think of things that way. Thanks, that was kinda comforting.”
“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows raising for half a second before nodding to himself. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if it sounded… helpful or just… like I’m bad at talking.”
Victoria joins Dana on the side, tilting her head at Denny. “Why not both?” Dana nudges her with her arm, shooting her a fast look despite the amusement in her eyes.
Denny winces. “Yeah. Both. Probably both.”
Denny moves like he wants to say something else, and you takes the opportunity to take another large swig of coffee. You turned around to face the door, glancing at the clock as his fingers tapping nervously against the counter. “Um… if it helps, I used to— well, I still do— get this thing where I feel like I’m already behind before I even start. But it, uh… evens out. Eventually. Kind of.”
You look up at him again, giving him a small, honest smile. “Thanks. I’ll… keep that in mind. At least I’m not the only one struggling then.”
You nudge your arm against his own jokingly, but before he can respond, the door swings open and a nurse you’re all too familiar with pokes her head inside the room. “Hey— oh, Dr. Maris, we need you in S9.”
You glance down, savoring the look of your barely enjoyed coffee knowing you’ll never return to it while it’s still hot. Of course. Perfect timing.
You take another quick sip, ignoring the slight singe of your tastebuds before setting the mug back down on the counter. “Coming,” already moving towards the door, you quickly glance over at the other three giving them a friendly wave. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Right— yeah, of course,” Denny says quickly, stepping back like he’s making room for you to breathe. “Go. I mean— not go like go away, just… go do the thing.”
You don’t have time to linger and offer a separate goodbye, so ducking out the room, you rush down the hallway to assist your patient. The three of them watch as you leave, the door closing shut behind you before Victoria lets out a little snort. Dana pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself as she helps herself to a cup of coffee.
Victoria stares at him with a shake of her head, glancing down at her fingers. “You really are terrible at this.”
Denny blinks. “At.. what?”
“Talking,” she says simply.
Dana nods, arms crossed and a little all to eager at how that played out. “Specifically talking to her.”
His ears go pink, and he gives a slight shrug. “I—I wasn’t y’know— I was just trying to be supportive.”
“You were trying,” Dana agrees, giving him an approving nod. “The execution was… something.”
Victoria snorts. “Inspiring.”
Dana rests one hand on his shoulder, an almost pitiful look on her face. “Sweetheart, you talk to her like you’re defusing a bomb.”
“I don’t— I’m not—” he hesitates, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he points towards the door with a thumb. “I thought that went really well.”
Victoria looks at him with concern, mouth opening and faltering for a moment before crossing her arms. “On— that was a decent conversation to you?”
He doesn’t answer at first, giving her a smile of genuine pleasure. “Was it not for you guys?” Dana and Victoria share a quick, silent look before Dana interjects with a pat on his back.
Days meshed together. Wake up, eat, work, sleep. Wake up, work, sleep. Work, sleep. Three days passed by, maybe five, at some point you sort of stopped counting. After a while days start feeling like one long day, and it’s easy to forget the differences with certain patients.
Suddenly it was already Friday, you and Denny have spoken a total of six times from the whole staff lounge incident at the start of the week. Bumping into each other in the hallway, that charting mishap, sharing a long elevator ride together, and those three separate occasions of accidentally bumping shoulders crossing ways. It was like no matter what you did, you guys always found a way to awkwardly meet. The universe wasn’t particularly kind to you.
By six, the day had finally started to slow down — less frantic, thank the heavens, less work on your feet. The kind of hour where everyone was running on autopilot and caffeine fumes. You ducked into the small charting alcove near S‑wing, hoping to finish your last note before handoff.
Denny was already there. Of course he was, honestly you’re not complaining. You hadn’t had your much needed awkward conversation of the day with him.
He looked up from his tablet, eyes a little unfocused before quickly straightening up a bit once he realized it was you. You stood near the wall, glancing down the hallway before cautiously approaching him. “Oh— hey,” he said, straightening a little. “Didn’t think anyone else was still documenting.”
You leaned against the desk, putting enough weight on the sturdy wood to stretch your sore legs. “I’ve been documenting all day.”
He scooted to the side, giving you some room as he looked between you and the tablet in his hands, clearly debating on which to focus fully on. He gently set the tablet down, turning in the rolling chair to look up at you. “Yeah.. same. I think I’ve written the word ‘fatigue’ so many times it doesn’t look real anymore.”
You snickered softly, nodding at him. “I’ll probably become the next patient if I have to deal with the word ‘kidney’.”
He smiled at you — tired, but genuine.
It wasn’t until now that you realized, this might have been your first official conversation with him that hadn’t been cut off short. Of course now the worry of any interruption was stuck in your head, but you’d have to take the opportunity now and worry about the thought later. This could go way beyond just him holding the door open for you and you saying a simple ‘thank you’. It was an even bigger bonus that the entire interaction hadn’t started from a question on where the extra pulse ox probes were, even though he was standing directly in front of the cabinet that held them.
Perhaps the universe was finally gracing the two of you with an actual interaction.
“How’s your day been?” he asked, turning back to the tablet to make it seem like he wasn’t entirely waiting for you to respond.
“Long,” you sighed slightly, mirroring his own actions as you focused on getting your charting done. “Yours?”
“Longer,” he said, then winced softly. “Not— not in a competitive way. Just… you know. Long, too.”
Your lips curled up into a slight grin, looking up from the screen in between your hands.“You always clarify stuff no one asked you to clarify.”
“I know,” he groaned softly. “I’m working on it.”
You leaned back, peeking up from the screen again just to notice him doing the same thing. “It’s fine. It’s just… you.”
He blinked, obviously curious at that. “Is that… good?”
“It’s not bad. It’s cute.”
He looked down at his tablet, but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away.
For a moment, the alcove felt strangely quiet. For the first time in months, there wasn’t an awkward silence between the two of you, things felt really comfortable. Familiar. Like you’d both gotten used to orbiting each other in these tiny pockets of time.
You were just about done with your charting, but honestly you weren’t entirely ready to leave yet. So, you lingered for a moment, staring at the screen to make it seem like you were working and not just wanting to spend more time in his presence. He cleared his throat, opening his mouth, closing it and then opening it again. You turned your attention back to him at his clear struggle to say something, deciding to give him some sort of out.
“Do you need help with something?” You asked, setting the tablet on your lap as you peeked towards the dim screen in his hand. He was so close to saying something, so, so close. But the universe worked in tricky ways, because of course Dana somehow manages to show up right now, and right here, of all places.
She glanced between the two of you, immediately realizing that she could have possibly interrupted. The realization flickers across her face and she looks at you. “Sorry, but we need you to sign off the discharge for Ms. Johnson.”
You had to hold back the annoyed sigh from escaping, letting out a slow exhale, already pushing off the desk. “Okay.” As you made your way to Dana’s side, she looked over her shoulder, mouthing an apologetic ‘sorry’ towards Denny.
He stayed quiet, nodding in understanding at her and for a second he watched as the two of you inched your way towards the South wing again. He sighed heavily, knee bouncing up and down as he tried to gather the strength.
“Wait.” He called out loud enough to get your attention but somewhat quiet enough to not seem too desperate.
He pushes off the chair, tablet in hand as he jogs up to catch the both of you. You turn to look at him, eyebrows raised and a friendly smile on your face. “Yeah?”
“Are you doing anything after this?” he asks, nervously scratching at the side of his face.
You paused for a moment, turning to look at Dans before glancing down at your tablet. “Uh, I’ve got a patient in S12 with a rash on their back, and one in S2 who’s just waiting to be pushed up—”
“No, I meant like… after shift.”
That makes you pause. You take a second to think, but admitting that you were planning on having your left over Chinese from the night before didn’t really sound like a topic worth discussing. “I mean, probably just a hot shower and a movie.”
You can hear Dana sigh beside you, resting one hand on her hip. You look at her, then at Denny again, lips pursing in confusion. “Why? Oh— oh, are you asking me out?”
His face goes red instantly. “No! No? I mean, I dunno. Kinda? Is that okay? It doesn’t have to be like an actual date or anything, it can just be two uhm… friends? Hanging out?”
You raised one eyebrow at him. “Friends hanging out.”
“Yeah,” he says, voice cracking just a little. “If you want. Only if you want. If you don’t, that’s totally fine, I just—”
He stops rambling immediately.
You start making your way towards your patient, looking over your shoulder at his barely concealed surprise. “It’s a date.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “Oh, okay.” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. “Okay. Cool. Yeah. After shift.” You were already too far out of earshot, mumbling to himself, he wiped his palms on his scrubs tilting his head up with sudden confidence.
Dana lingers near the desk, casting him a lazy smirk and as if he felt her gaze, he turned to look at her. With a stunned little smile, and another breathy sigh, he finally speaks “…Holy crap.”
The tracking board is already a mess of names and room numbers when you show up, to go coffee in hand and eyebrows furrowed at the middle in preparation. You take a long sip, luckily you were able to come prepared with a hot cup of coffee on your drive in.
Dana appears at your side like she’s been waiting for this moment all weekend.
“So,” Dana says casually, too casually as she leans against the countertop, “heard you went out with a certain doctor.”
You doesn’t look away from the board, eyes scanning for a patient with higher priority. Early mornings called for simpler things, the last thing you wanted was to jinx yourself by expecting anything extra. “Yeah. You can call it that.”
Dana’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? That’s all you’re giving me?”
“I dunno Dana. You were there when he spoke to me. My weekend plans aren’t exactly good conversa—”
Before you could even finish your sentence, Perlah was already peeking up from her little cubicle, eyebrows nosily raised. At the sight of Perlah’s sudden interest, Princess turns around in her chair, all ready for you to spill the hot gossip of your weekend.
“Come on,” Princess urged, “spill. We love a little hospital romance.”
You roll your eyes, exhaling through your nose, still staring at the board to avoid eye contact with the other girls. “I’m not here to talk about Dr. Whitaker. I’m trying to figure out which patient to take.”
Dana gives you a look, clearly not buying that bullshit you just spewed out, but she knew better than to continue pressing for answers. Motioning to Perlah and Princess to focus on their tasks, a familiar voice cuts in accompanied with a pair of footsteps.
“Wait— uhh what about me?”
Denny’s walking by, chart in hand, eyes wide in confusion. He slows to a stop at the desk, looking between the four of you with an awkward smile.
“Nothing,” you speak quickly, stepping aside with another down of your coffee. “Just wanted to grab a patient but figured you’d want this one. Possible cardiac issue, S4.”
You point towards the screen, clearing your throat as you kept your gaze locked on the screen. Behind the safety of the desk, the nurses are whispering, speaking in Tagalog about the very obvious tension, you wish you were able to not notice it either. Dana turns to Perlah and Princess, crossing her arms as she jumps in to correct them. “More working, less gossiping.”
Denny looks between the four of you, more confusion painted on his pretty face. He opens his mouth to ask something, but you’re already grabbing a patient off the board.
“I’ll take… abdominal pain in S7,” you look over at Dana, who nods once and motions towards the south wing. You eagerly pat the counter in goodbye, giving Denny a polite smile. And you’re gone as quickly as you came, walking briskly down the hall before anyone can say another word.
Denny watches you go, confused, flustered, and suddenly very aware that the entire nursing station is staring at him.
“…What just happened?” he mutters.
Dana just smirks. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea… but now that you’re here, maybe you can share your weekend plans?” At her question, he quickly takes a step back himself, motioning towards the patient room with an index finger.
“Y’know, I should get to seeing my patient.” The three nurses watch as he’s all too quick to leave, sharing the same smile before Perlah breaks the temporary silence.
“Twenty bucks says they had sex.” Princess rolls her eyes at that, scooting her chair closer to Perlah as she swapped between observing you and observing him.
“Are we talking about the same people? Fifteen bucks says they didn’t even make eye contact.”
“Hey, enough,” Dana snaps at the two of them, squinting her eyes as she watches Denny tend to his patient. “I’ll take you up on that.”
You and Dana were walking back from S‑wing, both of you carrying leftover supplies you’d grabbed for the next round of patients. It was that brief lull in the shift where no one was actively crashing and you could almost pretend you weren’t exhausted. The two of you passed by Trinity, who kept eye contact with you, passing by with a smug grin.
You looked at her in momentary confusion but turned to Dana as she nudged you with her elbow. “Sooo…” she said, drawing the question out until the two of you were in the seclusion of the elevator. “It didn’t go well?”
You watched the doors close, blinking at her a tilt of your head. “What didn’t go well?”
“The date. With Whitaker. Over the weekend. Ring any bells?”
You adjusted the stack of gauze in your hands, keeping your expression perfectly neutral as you stared in front of you. “It wasn’t a date.”
“Mhm,” Dana said, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re avoiding the question, which is interesting.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” you said, stepping out of the elevator and turning around a stretcher parked in the hallway. “We hung out. It was fine.”
“Fine,” she repeated, unimpressed. “At least toss me a bone here. Did you have fun?”
You opened the supply cabinet and started restocking, deliberately focused on the boxes in front of you. Dana leaned against the doorframe stepping in to help you stock. You froze for half a second, just long enough for her to catch it before finally giving in.
“…We got coffee,” you finally said.
Dana’s eyes snapped to you, but she stayed silent for a moment. “Okay. And?”
“And nothing,” you shrugged, stocking in extra gauze. “We just… walked around a bit.”
You nodded quietly, looking up from the cabinet at her. “We were just talking and ended up at a park.”
She quickly looked away, attempting to hide the way her lips twitched up into her usual smirk. “What did you talk about?”
“Stuff. Work. Residency. It was just two coworkers hanging out.”
“Right,” Dana said, pushing away from the cabinet. “And I’m just a quiet, reserved person who minds her own business.”
You snorted despite yourself. A call light chimed down the hall before you could offer a snarky retort. Dana tossed you a pair of gloves. “Come on, lover girl. S11 needs you.”
You stepped out first, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation. “It wasn’t a date though.”
“Sure,” Dana said, following you out. “And I’m not telling Victoria the second I see her.”
She grinned, leaning in to whisper. “Relax. I won’t. But just so you know? You’re terrible at pretending nothing happened.”
You didn’t answer, mostly because she was right.
You push open the door to S11, tablet tucked under your arm. A woman in what looked to be her late thirties sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, fingers pressed to her temples.
You give her a soft smile, pulling up a stool. “Hi, I’m Dr. Maris, what’s going on today?”
She lets out a shaky breath, eyebrows furrowed in discomfort. “I’ve had this headache since last night. I thought it would go away but it’s just… pounding.”
You roll the stool closer to her, setting the tablet down on your lap. “Okay. When did it start?”
“Uh… around dinner? It got worse overnight.”
“Any nausea? Vision changes?”
She shakes her head. “Just the pain. I can’t even focus.”
You nod, already moving to check her vitals on the monitor. “Alright. I’m going to take a quick look, do you remember what you had for dinner?”
You shine a light in each eye, studying the movement of her eyes and the constrictions of her pupil. “Uh, I had orange chicken, at that new Chinese place on fifth.”
“I don’t see anything so far,” you say, lowering the penlight and tucking it away. “Have you had headaches like this before?”
“Not like this,” she says. “I don’t usually get migraines.”
“Okay,” you say, tapping notes into your tablet. “Here’s what I’m thinking, typically Chinese food carries MSG in dishes, and they tend to be pretty high in sodium and it’s easier to get dehydrated with fried foods. Soo, we’ll get some basic labs, maybe a CT just to be safe, and I’ll order something to help with the pain and nausea. But for now, drink lots of fluid.”
She exhales in relief. “Thank you. I was scared it was something serious.”
You give her a polite arm tap, grabbing your tablet. “That’s what we’re here for. We’ll take good care of you.”
You stand, pulling the curtain halfway closed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes once the meds are up. I’ll send a nurse to come and get you something to drink.”
You nod and step out into the hallway— already hearing your name being called from somewhere else. You follow the sound, quickly approaching a nurse as she ducked out from the curtain. She gave you an annoyed look, shaking her head as she glared at the patient behind the curtain.
You push open the curtain and immediately have to dodge a flying bouncing ball. “Sorry!” the patient blurts, a guy in his early twenties, sitting cross‑legged on the bed. “I didn’t mean to throw that. It slipped.”
You watch the ball roll away, turning to the patient with a smile. “Someone will probably get that… let’s start with why you’re here.”
“I sprained my ankle,” he motions to his right leg. “At a trampoline park.”
You nod slowly, approaching the bed. “How bad is the pain?”
“On a scale of one to ten?” He thinks. “Like… a solid nine. Maybe nine‑point‑five. Actually—”
“How’d you hurt yourself?” You asked quickly, crouching to examine the ankle.
“Doing a double backflip.”
“Aren’t there signs to not do backflips in trampoline parks?”
He looks personally offended, pursing his lips together like he was trying to recall. “I don’t think so.”
You looked up at him, removing the ice pack around his ankle. Obviously swollen, a little irritated but nothing serious. “It’s swollen, can you wiggle your toes?” His foot twitches once before he slowly wiggles his toes. “Well, you’re moving it, so that’s good.”
“Do you think I tore something? Because I told my friends and mom that I tore something.”
You look up at him, pressing your lips in a fine line. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugs, looking at his ankle. “Felt like I tore something.”
You clear your throat, nodding to yourself. “Okay. I’ll order an X‑ray, but it’s probably just a sprain. For now, ice it.”
He sighs dramatically, leaning back as you set the ice pack on his ankle. “Fine.”
You stand up, giving him a quick once over before turning back around. “I’ll get someone to grab that ball.”
You pull the curtain closed behind you, turning to look at the tablet screen as you walked into the hallway. Tapping the X‑ray order into your tablet, you look up just in time to see Whitaker coming toward you from the opposite direction, chart in hand.
He slows when he sees you, pausing for a second, and you naturally do the same.
“Hey.” He says, soft, a little breathless.
“Hey.” You echo, shifting your tablet under your arm. You both stop for half a second in front of each other, like neither of you planned this far.
He gestures vaguely in front of him him. “Uh… S2. Back pain. I’m, um… going there.”
You point to where you just came from. “Ankle sprain. He’s… something.”
Whitaker huffs a tiny laugh. “Oh, is that what Nurse Tiffany was complaining about?”
“He’s got a personality, that’s for sure.”
Whitaker’s smile grows, small, and crooked. You both stand there for a beat too long, the hallway buzzing around you. Then a nurse calls his name from down the hall.
He steps backward, still looking at you. “I’ll, uh… see you.”
“Yeah,” you say, turning to keep walking. “See you.”
You pass each other, heading in opposite directions, but you can feel him glance back once.
A charge nurse calls your name, peeking out from the desk with a phone in her hand.
“Dr. Maris! Can you grab S6? Just rolled in. Chest pain.”
You exhale through your nose, tuck your tablet under your arm, and head down the hall.
You push open the door to find a man in his early fifties sitting stiffly on the bed, one hand pressed to the center of his chest. He looks scared in that quiet, trying‑not‑to‑panic way. You greet him with a smile, approaching the stool. “Hi, I’m Dr. Maris. Tell me what’s going on.”
He swallows hard. “It started about an hour ago. Tightness. I thought it was heartburn but… it’s not going away.”
“Okay,” you say, pulling up the stool to sit beside the bed. “Any shortness of breath? Nausea?”
“A little,” he admits. “Mostly it just… hurts.”
You nod, already taking your stethoscope out to listen to his heart, checking his vitals. His pulse is fast, blood pressure is creeping up. Not terrible, but not nothing.
“Before this chest pain, did you eat anything?” He shook his head quickly. “You a smoker, Mr. Jackson?” He hesitated at your question, but you gave him a reassuring smile.
“Alright,” you say, standing. “We’re going to get an EKG right now, some labs, and I’m going to give you something for the pain. You’re in the right place.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Am I having a heart attack?”
You meet his eyes. “We’re going to find out. And we’re going to take care of you.”
The nurse wheels in the EKG machine. You help place the leads, your hands steady and controlled. The machine prints. You scan the strip.
Not a STEMI. But not clean either.
You tap your pen against the tablet. “Okay... I’m going to keep you here for monitoring and get cardiology looped in. You’re stable, but I want to be thorough.”
He nods, relief and fear mixing in his expression. “Thank you, doctor.”
You give him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”
You step out of the room, letting the door close shut behind you and only then, let out the breath you’d been holding.
Your shift was supposed to end soon. But this one’s yours now. You start typing the note as you walk, already mentally rearranging your night.
And that’s when you turn the corner and nearly collide with someone coming the opposite direction. Denny. Again
“Keep bumping into me and I’ll start to think you like me.” You joked, side stepping him as he peeks up from his tablet. He chuckled nervously, stops short, eyes flicking over your face.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, tablet still in hand. “53 year old, chest pain, smoker.. Not a STEMI, but… not nothing.”
He gives a small, understanding nod. “Need anything?” he asks.
You shake your head. “I’ve got it.”
“Alright,” he says softly. “I’ll be around if you do.”
You finally finish charting on your patient, your eyes burning from staring at the screen too long. The clock on the wall reads 8:20 p.m.
Your shift ended at seven.
You rub your face, grab your bag, and step out of the workroom into the dimmer, quieter evening hallway. Most of the day‑shift crowd is gone. Night shift has settled in.
You’re halfway to the elevators when you see Denny.
He’s leaning against the wall near the end of the hall, hands in his pockets, hair a little messy like he’s run his fingers through it too many times. He straightens when he sees you, like he wasn’t sure when you’d come out.
You slow your steps, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re still here?”
He shrugs, casual in the way that means he’s absolutely not casual. “Yeah. I… finished up a little early.”
You glance at the clock. “Early?”
He looks away, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Yeah. Well. Early for me.”
You suck in a slow breath, shifting your bag on your shoulder. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I know.” He says it quietly, like it’s not a big deal. “Figured you’d be stuck a while, I just wanted to talk.”
You huff a tired laugh. “You figured right,” you motion towards the exit for him to follow you. “If it’s about this morning… I didn’t mean to seem rude or anything, I just didn’t wan—”
“It’s not about that.” He reassured quickly, looking over at you as he slowed his steps just to talk in tandem. “Uh… you eaten?”
You blink. “No. Not yet.”
He looks relieved, like that was the answer he was hoping for. “There’s that place a couple blocks over. If you want coffee or a sandwich or tea?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Is this a second date?”
He quickly turns to you, eyebrows raised before stuttering. “No, no God no. I mean— I’d like that yeah, but probably not a good idea to y’know have one… after work.”
You smile despite how exhausted you are. “Okay, okay. Why there?”
He shrugs again. “It’s close. And you look like you need to sit down somewhere that isn’t a hospital.”
“Okay,” you say. “Yeah. I could eat.”
He nods, trying not to look too pleased. “Cool.”
You fall into step beside him as you head toward the elevators, the hallway quiet around you. He glances over once, just long enough for you to catch it.
“I did enjoy Saturday though,” he says softly.
You look ahead, warmth blooming in your chest. “Me too.” The elevator doors slide open, and the two of you step inside.
The night air hits you the second you step outside— cool, a little nip to it. Whitaker falls into step beside you, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s still carrying the weight of the day.
The cafe is only a block away, large windows glowing warm against the dark. The sign on the door glows OPEN LATE, though the inside is mostly empty except for a couple of night‑shift nurses and a guy studying with headphones on.
Whitaker holds the door for you, eyes flicking to your face like he’s checking if you’re still okay. “Uh you can sit,” he says quietly. “I’ll order?”
You shake your head, unconsciously grabbing him by his forearm to keep him from rushing towards the menu. “I’m not making you do that.”
He gives a tiny half‑smile, eyes flicking to the warmth of your hand against his arm, looking back at you as the tips of his ears turned bright pink. “I’m not doing it for you… not fully. If I stand still too long, I’ll fall asleep.”
Your hand falls from his arm, a quick laugh escaping your lips. Honestly, you were probably in the same boat. Instead, you join him as you both step up to the counter. The barista looks just about tired as the two of you, a slow smile of greeting on her face. “What can I get you guys?”
Whitaker glances at the menu, then at you. “You want something to eat or just a drink?”
“Food,” you look towards the menu, squinting to focus your vision because all that tiny font seemed to be swimming back and forth on the black board. “Something small.”
He nods like he expected that. “Same.”
He orders first, a turkey panini and a hot tea.
Of course. Oddly made sense
You ordered the last blueberry muffin, and hot hazelnut latte. The first hot coffee you’ve had all week.
When you sit down, the cafe is quiet enough that you can hear the hum of the espresso machine and the soft, classical music playing overhead. Whitaker sits across from you, elbows on the table, fingers wrapped around his cup as he stares at you for a second.
“You look tired,” he says softly.
“You look worse,” you shoot back.
He huffs a laugh, eyes dropping to his tea, as he takes a sip. “Fair.”
There’s a comfortable silence, just your synchronized breathing and the muted clacking of a late night study.
“You waited for me.” You say finally, and he quickly looks up from his tea to study your face. He doesn’t deny it.
“Are you annoyed that I did?”
You look at him for a moment, noticing that little nervous look on his face before shaking your head. “No.” He lets out a small breath, nodding back at you.
The food arrives, breaking the moment. You both unwrap your food, eating slowly, enjoying the moment and letting the day’s exhaustion set.
You’re standing at the counter in the break room again, pouring yourself coffee you absolutely don’t want but absolutely need. It’s barely 7:10 am, the hospital still in that sleepy in‑between state where night shift is fading and day shift hasn’t fully woken up.
You’re stirring your cup when you hear footsteps behind you, and you’d gotten so used to that specific pair that you don’t need to look over your shoulder to know who it is. He stands beside you, grabbing the coffee pot to pour himself a piping hot cup.
“Morning,” he says, voice low and gentle from sleep.
You look over at him, giving him a genuine smile. “G’morning.”
He steps closer, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “You get home okay last night?”
“Yeah,” you reassure, taking a sip of your coffee. “Thanks for… you know, waiting and all.”
He nods, eyes dropping to the counter like he’s trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah. It was nice.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Nice?”
He clears his throat. “I mean— yeah. It was… good. Talking. Eating. Not the whole situation.”
He nods, then hesitates, fingers tapping lightly against his mug. “If you want… later, maybe we can— do it again. For real this time?”
You set your cup down, leaning against the counter. “Of course.”
Before either of you can say anything else, Trinity walks in, sees the two of you standing way too close, and raises an eyebrow so high it practically hits her hairline.
“I knew it. You guys are so obvious.”
You just take another sip of your coffee, trying not to smile.
“Oh, and by the way? If you two start officially dating, I want it on record that Perlah has twenty dollars on the line that you two fucked.”
The two of you look at each other in silence, Denny rubbing the back of his head as you try not to get overwhelmed by embarrassment on the thought. Trinity approaches the two of you, giving him a friendly pat on the back.
“I have thirty on the line, so get to it.”
