Been A While

✦　The Pitt ✦

HuckleRobby

If You Don't Beat Me To It (Roadtrip, past sibling abuse) wc: 30k ~in progress

A brother attempting suicide means Dennis needs to get back home to Broken Bow - Robby offers to drive him.

Turn The Other Cheek wc:10k

5 times Dennis gets his ass slapped at work + 1 time he slaps back

Lessons in Trust (18+, noncon, gangbang, smut) wc: 5.9k

HuckleRabbot

Anything for You (misunderstandings and stalkers) wc 26k

Dennis mistakes secret admirer gifts from Rabbot for his stalker escalating, 5+1

Should the Pieces Fit (Aro x Allo x Ace) wc: 2.5k

Angry Dennis one and two wc: 2.6k

HuckleAbbot

Got My Eyes on You

Abbot X Reader

Ace!Reader - If You Mean It (Ace get together fic + holiday oneshot) wc: 16k

fall free and sedate me (18+, somno noncon smut) wc: 19.9 k in progress

Jemma

to: My Favourite Med Student wc 2.4

So he may have gotten overly comfortable at Robby's place.

Finally having a private space where he didn't have to worry about being intruded on, means he may have made himself overly comfortable.

May have made him just a step too brazen, closing all his attendings blinds and spending half his time in the apartment naked. 

So he liked feeling free, and soft, and yeah sometimes he liked catching his naked reflection in mirrors, and the glass of picture frames.

It's not like he was hurting anyone.

Or, he wasn't, until…

Dancing and singing along to I Heard It Through The Grapevine, he cooked his morning egg in toast, loving the rush of air around him as he twirled and dipped and rolled his hips.

He didn't hear the front door open and close, or the uneven gait of Dr. Abbot approaching, or the slight gasp as he found Dennis naked in the kitchen.

It wasn't until he twirled, pan in hand, about to attempt a ridiculously high and very unnecessary flip of his egg in the hole; when he finally spotted the attending standing slack jawed a few feet away.

Watching Dennis, unblinking and spellbound.

Their eyes meet as Dennis chokes back a scream, and Jack flushes beet red, throwing his hands over his eyes.

Scrambling to dump the burning pan back on the stove top, Dennis squeaks out a series of ‘Don't Look!'s as he ducks behind the kitchen island, trying to find literally anything to cover himself with.

And somewhere behind him there's a tight, strained, “I didn't see anything!” that he believes about as much as he believes it when a patient comes in and says they fell on whatever was currently lodged in their ass.

He can hear Jack's stomping footsteps as he rushes to get out, seeming to back track, stumble, and slip.

Dennis hears the sickening crunch of cartilage about a half a second before the kitchen rattles with the heavy sound of Jack's body hitting the floor.

His stomach drops and he's on his feet, clutching a wrinkled apron as he rounds the island, forgetting about his lack of clothing and focusing on making sure Jack didn't seriously hurt himself.

“Shit,” He hisses finding Abbot flat on his ass, hands still covering his eyes for some fucking reason, blood pouring out of his nose. “Are you ok?” 

Carefully sitting him up he starts using the apron to dab away blood as he tries to evaluate how bad it is.

“‘M fine.” Jack grunts, a nasally, pained sound as Dennis probes the cartilage, feeling for a break.

“I don't think it's broken.” He gently pries Jack's hands away, ducking his head to try and get a good look at his pupils.

Blinking hard at the stormy hazel eyes staring back at him. Slightly watery from running face first into whatever it was. 

Fucking gorgeous. 

It's not fair having the full force of them unleashed on him this close up.

He finds himself lost for a moment, struggling to remember what it is he was meant to be doing.

His mouth hangs open. He was gonna say something… or ask a question maybe?

Jack's eyes trace his bottom lip, and then Dennis watches them slowly drop, down, down, down, and his pupils blow wide, nearly swallowing his irises.

Flushing lobster red again, Jack slaps a hand over his eyes with a wounded noise, accidentally clipping his nose.

Pained and accusing, “You're still naked.”

Dennis swears hard, flailing as he struggles to open the stained and bloody apron to put it on.

“Sorry, sorry, I'm decent now, I promise, you can look again.”

Jack does, pupils still fat and hungry, raking over just how little the apron covers, “I wouldn't say you're decent, but you're not naked anymore”

Dennis can't help but blush at the flirty lilt to Jack's words, thinking he must have given himself brain damage or something to be hitting on Dennis.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Fucking-” Jack gestures vaguely to… somewhere, “Robby asked me to check in on you. Make sure you didn't burn the place down.”

Oh god. 

Robby.

Jack's best friend.

Who Jack is no doubt going to immediately run and blab to this about. Finding his house sitter naked and using his apartment as a nudist paradise.

He’s never going to live this down.

“Oh god, please, you can't tell him about this.” Dennis pleads, desperately grasping at Jack's hands. “Seriously, Dr. Abbot, I won't be able to show my face in the hospital ever again. Please don't tell him.”

Jack blinks at his intensity, glancing down at the grip Dennis has on him, then up to his mouth and finally settling on his eyes.

“I won't.” Abbot murmurs, shaking his head softly, all sincerity. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Thank you,” He breathes, nearly crumpling forward from the relief. “thank you."

“But ah-” He tenses, and Jack toys with his fingers, “maybe I could take you out for breakfast? Make up for ruining whatever you were making.”

At first they keep him a little drugged and pliant in the sleeping compartment so they can take their turns with his holes for some stress relief throughout the day.

Until they get far enough on the road that the real panic sets in, because Dennis is finally with it enough to realise they aren't going the direction they promised him they would.

It makes it all the more humiliating when they only smile down at him like circling sharks when he tries to fight them and run.

Feeling weak and stupid as they easily pin him down and keep him tied in place while they fuck him into submission. Until he's been fucked empty and hollow and willing.

Dennis’s brows draw tightly together, “I can’t promise that.” frustrated with the controlling tone Robby’s taken on.

As Robby’s mouth opens to argue, he huffs, cutting him off, “I can’t! I’m always going to do what I have to do to get by, and if I end up being put in a position where I have to hitchhike or sleep rough, then I will. We don’t all have the luxury of being able to buy our way to safety.”

Robby freezes and he can practically see the pieces put themselves together in his mind. 

Sounding embarrassed and chastised when he finally grits out, “Shit, I know, I’m sorry. I do know that- I just, I really hate the idea of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation when I could have been here to help.” Face drawing together in worry, “I hate thinking of you hitchhiking alone in the dark because you had no other options. But I can’t blame you for doing what you needed to.”

That at least settles something in Dennis. That he can accept, “Good, because I don’t need you treating me like I’m a child who doesn’t understand the weight and consequences of my choices. I knew the risk I was taking on, and I also knew it was the only way I could afford to get back home. Trust me when I say I wasn’t taking those risks lightly.”

Their eyes meet, a beat of understanding passing between them.

“I do trust you. And I’m sorry that I made you doubt that. I think I’ve been trying to convince myself you were just a kid. Sweet and naive, and too young to be jaded by the horrors of the world. Which I know- I know that’s not fair of me, I know you’ve shown how capable, and knowledgeable you are. But in a lot of ways you are very young, I mean, you have so much ahead of you, god I’m twice your age Dennis. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t want you.” And then, said like it’s against all of his better judgement, “But I do.” 

Oh god, oh they’re really talking about this.

Dennis feels like he could vibrate out of his skin with the electricity that’s shooting through him, dancing through his core, thrumming under his fingertips. 

“Is that really so bad?” It's barely a whisper, he's so scared of Robby thinking it is. Of him agreeing and saying that wanting Dennis is the worst thing he’s ever done.

Michael sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair, flicking his sad eyes back out the windshield. Watching the strobe of orange hazard lights flickering and illuminating the empty fields surrounding them, “No,” then a little firmer, “no, but just- just look at this logically, Den, best case scenario is that this thing between us works. And it's great, and we have a few wonderful decades together. At best. But what I can't get around, is that I still die, twenty, maybe thirty years from now, and that leaves you all on your own. A widower at my age. How am I supposed to be okay knowing the grief I would be leaving you with?”

Before Dennis can even try to interrupt, Robby is barreling on, clearly worked up over an argument he’s been having with himself.

“Worst case scenario we have a messy breakup in seven weeks. And the rest of your career is followed by gossip of you seducing your chief attending.” His eyes widen and he raises his hands like he’s warding off outrage Dennis hasn’t even voiced. “I’m not saying that last part is what’s happening, just that gossip has a way of twisting things. And higher ups and peers have a habit of blaming the victim and keepi-”

He tentatively grips both Michael's wrists, lowering his steady hands, stopping his rant, “I don’t care.” 

“Don't.” Michael chokes, pained, shaking his head, “Don't dismiss all that like it's nothing.”

Dennis softens, "I'm not. I know, ok, I know that this is going to end in heartbreak.” Slowly he strokes his thumbs over Robby’s pulse points, “But so does just about everything that's worth having.”

He shifts in his seat, pulling his left leg underneath himself so he’s turned fully towards Michael.

“Isn’t that what happens with any good relationship? There’s always going to be grief. Look at you and Abbot. You’re not gonna die on the same day, no matter what you tell each other. At some point one of you is gonna die before the other. No matter what, someone is being left behind to grieve their best friend. That doesn’t mean you shouldn't be friends in the first place.”

Robby groans, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, pleading, “This is different, you know it’s different. There are people your age you could be with, people you could settle down with and actually spend the rest of your life with, not just the next good decade or two.”

Dennis huffs, desperately pulling one of Robby’s hands up to cup his cheek, nuzzling into the large warm palm.

“I don’t want someone else. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” He drops Robby’s hand but it stays anchored to where he left it. Staring into the dark, barely restrained hunger in his eyes, “Can you please just trust what I said before. That if I make a decision, it’s because I have weighed the consequences and decided it’s still worth it.”

He shifts forward, slowly closing the gap between them, feeling the air in the car heat till it’s sizzling along his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The world humming around them like lightning’s about to strike. 

Dennis hovers inches away from Robby’s face, watches the fear and apprehension bleed away to want. Watches his near black eyes trace down to Dennis’s lips, wrinkles softening as his face is taken over by longing.

“Michael, you are worth the consequences.” He whispers into the hazy air between them. Falling into Michael's orbit and finally kissing his attending like he’s been wanting to for nearly a year. The firm plush of Robby’s lips and the gentle scratch of his beard like an anchor pulling him down and down and down.

It’s sweet and tentative, and Dennis is a greedy, greedy man and he wants more. A shiver running through him with just how much he needs more.

Making desperate little noises at the back of his throat as he presses forward. And then Micahel is devouring him. Shifting his hand to grip the back of Dennis’s head, dragging him impossibly closer. Mouth’s slotting open as Michael’s tongue dips into his mouth, hot and claiming. 

He’s not even sure where that thought comes from, because if anything he should be hoping someone does see him. That his parents get to deal with the joy of explaining why he's not only back in town, but out at night hitchhiking.

At least the walk helps clear his head. Leaves him with nothing but time to wonder if this is him abandoning James to die.

Because he can't- he cannot be the one to support him, to be the only thing keeping James alive. It’s not fair to himself, and James needs to figure out his own life, he needs to find his own reasons for living. So Dennis has to come to terms with that, and all the potential consequences.

He’s not his brother's keeper…

Dennis’s life is in Pittsburgh. And clearly his help isn’t wanted here, even if he still feels responsible for fixing everything. He’s at least self aware enough to know it would be at the cost of his own mental wellbeing to even try. Heck he knows the toll just keeping tabs from afar through Garrett is going to bring. But at least that much he can handle.

He’s going to have to trust that, despite everything, his parents and his family will pull through and be there for James. 

Because he won’t.

Even knowing the logic of it all, his stomach still feels like it’s filled with lead. A deep sense of dread curling up the back of his neck, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop. And as much as he tells himself it won’t help anyone to feel that way, it doesn’t stop the feeling. 

So he focuses back on the pounding of his feet on gravel, the sound of crunching beneath his shoes as it eventually turns to the slapping of rubber soles on rough pavement.

At one point a lone car revs by, passing him so close he's forced to jump out of the way. Tires screeching like laughter as his heart clenches and thuds, fucking assholes.

He just needs to make it to the highway and then he's sure someone going east will pick him up. Maybe even let him charge his phone, and then he can call Trin and beg her to come pick his ass up.

She might even save the inevitable I told you so for later.

Anxiety blooms through him over being forced to hitch hike again.

He's mostly had good experiences. He looks young and unassuming enough that a decent amount of moms would pick him up. See him as a surrogate for their own kids. Inquiring but kind, and more often than not leaving him with a twenty and whatever packaged snacks they had squirreled away in their car. Leaving him deeply jealous of the kids who got that kind of mother. Followed quickly by shame and guilt for not being grateful for what his parents were able to provide for him.

There was only one time he got picked up by a driver that made his skin crawl. One time where he was actually bone deep terrified. Spending most of the ride with a white knuckle grip on his switchblade, praying he wouldn't need to use it. 

The guy who picked him up had seemed ok at first. Older and jovial, with a balding head and a beer gut. Over friendly in a way Dennis had tried to brush off before he couldn’t anymore, before the guy started testing Dennis's boundaries. A claiming hand coming down jokingly to pat his knee. Only to stay planted there, squeezing and drifting higher until Dennis was sure it was going to lead to him raped or dead on the side of the highway.

To this day he isn't sure why it didn't lead to any of that. Maybe the man just liked pushing for the thrill of it. The thrill of striking fear. Of seeing the prey part of his victim’s brain register that they put their trust in the wrong person. That they were about to pay dearly for that lapse in judgement.

The whole experience had left him deeply unsettled and with a sour taste in his mouth. Fear of that and worse forever etched into his brain when he thought of having to hitch hike again.

But here he was, eyeing up the few cars heading into town, none going his way as he walks east down the highway.

Unfortunately for him there haven’t been many cars leaving town, or at least none that would stop for him.

But he keeps walking backwards, eyes peeled for headlights, throwing his thumb stubbornly out whenever he hears a car approach. 

Ever the optimist.

Then it happens.

His stomach drops as a car driving towards town makes a quick u-turn after passing him. 

It can’t be a good sign that this person is eager enough to go back the way they were coming just to pick him up.