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Friday night, not long after their shift in the ED ended, saw both Dennis Whitaker and Trinity Santos traipsing into a bar. They sat across from each other in a booth, fairly early in the night still, the music and chatter surrounding them not yet loud enough for them to need to shout to be heard.
Trinity had suggested they go out, not for the entire night, but just to get a few drinks, some subpar, greasy bar snacks, to hopefully decompress after what had been a very, very long week.
The fact that they also had no alcohol in the apartment, nor the will to cook anything, probably helped make the decision for them.
Desperate as they were to shake off the weeks’ fatigue, as soon as they’d gotten home, Dennis had beelined into the shower, Trinity doing the same in her own bathroom, grateful that the apartment was modern enough that both could be run at the same time and still have hot water.
He had stood under near scolding water for as long as he could stand, skin turning pink at the heat, before sighing and turning the dial to a more normal temperature to finish getting clean.
As soon as he jumped out of the shower, somehow again having taken longer than Trinity despite having far less hair to wash, Dennis saw that his friend had left him an outfit on his bed. She had been saying ever since they met, and he’d moved on that first day, that he couldn’t be trusted to dress himself outside of work.
Trinity had many strong words to say about his sense of fashion and had firmly advised that for them to be seen together in public, he would need to submit to her will and be dressed up however she pleased.
Not that this was a bad thing. In fact, Dennis was usually quite pleased with what she picked, even if the shirts were terribly revealing and the pants wider than he’d ever considered normal. He’d never felt more confident, or more on display, but it was a good feeling for the most part.
Then after a few months she had given him a new, trendier haircut, he’d filled out some with the constant work and a secure supply of food, and suddenly he was getting attention. Romantic attention. Dennis had received more numbers and date offers in the last couple of months than he had in his entire teenage and adult life put together.
Not that he particularly wanted the attention, at least not from anyone but the one person he did want it from.
He blushed as he thought about that on the way to the bar: the steady hands on his shoulders, warm looks from across the ED, or the way he would be enveloped in a crushing hug as soon as they were alone.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trinity giving him a suspicious look. The kind of look that said ‘I can read your mind right now, and you need to get a hold of yourself’. It was scary how easily the woman could read him, and Dennis shook the thoughts away, desperate to avoid questions he didn’t know how to answer.
Dennis knew he should have known however, that Trinity would start an inquisition the second they sat down with their drinks, food order already made.
“What’s going on with you and Robby?” She asked, face straight, eyes entirely focused on his face, unblinking. Clearly, Trinity was looking for an answer and wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied.
Seeing her conviction didn’t take away his need to dodge the question however. Dennis looked down at his hands, asking in a quiet voice, “what do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Huckleberry.” She barked back, aggressively sipping her drink. “Spill. Now.”
“I’m really not,” he protested, face hot again. Soon the heat he felt in his cheeks would make its way down to his chest, a shiny red beacon beaming how he really felt to anyone that cared to look.
“You are. Shall I tell you how I know?” Anxiety bubbled beneath his ribs as she spoke. They hadn’t even known each other a year yet, and the woman could read him better than his own mother.
Dennis didn’t answer, gaze shifting to far off place in the bar.
“First thing. The touching.” She said it like it was obvious, and if he let himself think about it, it really was.
“Touching?” He muttered back, still unwilling to look her way.
“Yes, the touching. That old man is handsier with you than absolutely anyone else. And that includes the women we know he’s had relationships with.” Dennis grit his teeth at the reminder, knowing that his friend was right.
In the beginning - from the first day even - Robby had used any opportunity to get his hands on Dennis. A guiding hand on his shoulder, fingertips nudging the bare skin of his neck. A lingering clap to the back, or notably a hand on Dennis’ lower back to move him out of the way.
He hadn’t thought much of anything about it initially. He had assumed that Robby was just an extremely tactile person, or perhaps so desperate for human contact he would take it anywhere he could. And it’s not like Dennis didn’t enjoy or appreciate the attention.
Then Dennis had noticed that it really was only him that Robby touched in that way. The older man had never touched Victoria like that; he had never guided her out of the way, or comforted her with a steady touch. Their chief attending had never once been like that with Trinity, Samira or any other students or residents.
Dennis had entertained that maybe Robby just didn’t want to risk putting hands on his female colleagues and making them uncomfortable. Then, with some more late night thought, Dennis had determined that Robby also didn’t touch the other men that they worked with.
Langdon should have been treated much the same way, being Robby’s unofficial favourite, the protege that ended up falling off the wagon. Donnie, Jesse and Mateo; none of them received any physical attention.
That just left Dennis. Dennis was touched, and guided and comforted. He was clearly being singled out by Robby even then and that was before they’d started getting closer.
“He’s not that old…” he mumbled eventually.
“That’s what you focus on?”
“Okay fine! He touches me a lot,” he tentatively agreed, voice high “and?”
“And! Huckleberry, that shits weird!” Trinity cried.
“No it’s not,” he cringed as he protested, the heated defence behind the words far more than he had intended. He hadn’t realised it before he spoke, but he knew now that it was very important to him that she understood.
Trinity stared back at him, wide-eyed shock written across her features. “Right. Even if we ignore…whatever that was,” she gives him yet another pointed look. “Then what about the looks? The silent communication?”
“Huh?”
“The looks!” Trinity put extra emphasis on the words as if that made her meaning any clearer. She flung her arms wide, and continued. “It’s like, we’ll be in the middle of a trauma and all of sudden you’re moving, just one look from him and you get what he wants. Or you’ll both meet eyes from across Dana’s desk and a whole conversation is had without a single word being spoken.”
“Trin…”
“It’s spooky. I’ve never seen anything like it, like you’re so in sync you must have spent way more time together than even we have.” Little did she know but Trinity was right on the money.
“But-”
“-and we live together, Huckleberry!” She quickly cut him off. “You can’t tell me you haven’t spent time with him outside of work, I absolutely won’t believe it. Not to mention how often you disappear.”
“Disappear?” Dennis probed. He didn’t want to admit to anything she didn’t already know. He’d had enough of dropping himself in the shit to last a lifetime.
“After work, when you tell me to go ahead so you can walk and think. Or the weekends you’ll be gone all day, then come home all smiley and whistling like a dumb, white-collar husband in a stupid, old-timey cartoon.”
“Right…”
“So?”
“What do you want me to say, Trin?”
“The truth!” She implored, leaning across the table and eyes locked with his as if the added proximity would make him more likely to spill his guts.
Dennis hated how much it was working, but he still couldn’t bring himself to respond. He looked back at his friend, eyes wide and mouth down turned but firmly shut.
“Okay, if you won’t tell me yourself, I’ll ask questions. You can say yes or no, and if the spirit urges you, you can expand on it if you want. How does that sound?” Trinity was clearly irritated, tongue sharp.
Dennis rolled his eyes but nodded anyway, reluctant to acquiesce to the request but feeling that if he didn’t give her something she would never let them move on from the topic.
Satisfied for now, Trinity sat back into her seat, cleared her throat and began. “Has Robby ever made you feel uncomfortable?”
“No,” he quickly and firmly responded. It was the easiest question she could have asked. As far as Dennis was concerned, Robby actually made him more comfortable than he really should.
Eyebrow raised, seemingly surprised at the speed of his answer, the woman continued with her questions.
“Have you ever hung out with him outside work?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I can’t be specific.”
“I don’t know, as in you haven’t kept count? Or I don't know as in it’s too many times to know.”
“Too many times to know.”
“Dennis!” She hissed, geering up to chastise him.
“You asked!”
“I didn’t think you’d actually answer!”
Huffing at her judgement, Dennis took another sip of his beer, shoulders hitching up to his ears.
Trinity didn’t immediately take up her questioning again, taking a big gulp from her glass then remaining silent. She was letting him stew, hoping to break down his defenses.
Dennis let her have her time, familiar with her usual tactics. She’d done much the same when trying to get him to open up about his family, his background, and what his college time had been like.
The woman cared deeply but desperately didn’t want to show it, instead choosing to be overbearing and even annoying in an attempt to make you forget that she was actually showing you affection.
They were silent for a while longer before Trinity turned to look at him face on. “Do you like him touching you?”
“Yes,” Dennis whispered. “Too much.” With that answer, everything he wasn’t saying was plain as day, and Trinity finally seemed to understand.
“Oh, Huckleberry.” Face burning, Dennis whined into his hands, refusing to look back at her. “Explain it to me.”
“I really don’t know what to say.”
“How did it start?”
“You promise not to say anything?” It was important to get this clear now, or he’d risk fucking everything up. Dennis trusted Trinity more than pretty much anyone else he knew, but that didn’t mean he could risk it all the same.
“As long as you’re not being hurt, or in danger, then no, I won’t say anything,” she assured. “I won’t even make fun of you.”
At that Dennis raised his own judgemental eyebrow, somehow finding that hard to believe from his acerbic friend.
“Okay,” rolling her eyes, she huffed a laugh, “I won’t make fun of you tonight. Tomorrow is all mine though, got it?”
He nodded, accepting that Trinity would likely never let him forget how pathetic he was being. Dennis was pining after a man so far out of his league after all, he may as well be playing a different game altogether.
“The day we started in The Pitt, I saw him in a vulnerable moment, I guess. Helped him out of it and we…bonded over it after.”
“Vulnerable moment?” She asked, sounding skeptical. He knew it was vague and she would be curious. Robby was generally such a stable character, especially when it came to work; in her eyes the older man was more likely to snap in anger when under pressure, not crumble and cry.
“I’m not saying anything more than that, it’s not my story to tell, so please don’t ask.” Obviously this only made her want to ask more, but she seemed to push away the urge to press.
“But you helped him?”
“Yes. I helped him.” And he really had. It still surprised Dennis to this day, ten months later that it was him that helped Robby back then, and even more surprising was that he was still able to give support now.
“And now you… what? Let him manhandle you like a stress ball and like it? Jump at his beck and call like a sad-eyed puppy?
“I would protest that description.” He grumbled, then jumped as a waiter appeared at his shoulder with their food.
Both sides of the booth remained quiet as the plates were placed on the table between them, Trinity glaring straight into Dennis’ soul, before they both thanked the poor waiter that had to interrupt the conversation.
The second the man had turned tail and fled, the woman across from him hissed, “don’t deflect, Huckleberry.”
“Hmmph.” Messily plonking a fry into his mouth, Dennis put off answering by focusing on the food, suddenly realising how ravenous he had become.
Trinity did the same, eating quickly, and letting the moment hang until they had cleared away at least some of the plates. The food was hot and fatty and just what they both needed.
Dennis wiped his hands with a paper napkin, desperately wishing he could wash his hands instead and maybe delay the end of the conversation for maybe forever. The look in Trinity’s eyes however, told him he would never escape.
“So. You have,” this is where she paused, trying to find the right words to say. “Feelings?” Her voice ticked up on the last word, the question there clear.
“Everyone has feelings, Trin. Even if you pretend you don’t.” Dennis couldn’t resist the joke.
Irritated, she slapped the top of his arm across the table, huffing as he laughed and winced. He rubbed the spot she’d tapped, and smiled, happy to be able to get at least one point against her.
“Feelings for him,” she clarified, grinning back at him as the smile dropped instantly from Dennis’ face.
He sniffed and responded, “I don’t think he’d ever see me that way.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Trin…”
“Dennis.” He was glad that he hadn’t ever told her his middle name, or the force of her stern tone combined with it may have actually killed him.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel. He’d never think of me like I do him.”
“Are you sure about that?” She asked the question, tone earnest. His heart picked up pace at the fact that his friend clearly didn’t think it was too wild of an idea that the man Dennis wanted would be into him back.
It hurt to think about it too hard, but Dennis had to be honest with her now. “If anything, I think he’s just lonely.”
“Lonely? I don’t know what family he has, but he definitely has friends.”
“It’s not the same. Sometimes the loneliest I’ve ever been was in a crowded room. There can be hundreds of people around, but if they don’t see you? In the way you need to be seen?” It was perhaps too honest, revealing way too much of himself.
Trinity paused, assessing him before she could speak again. “And you see him?”
“Yes. And I feel sometimes that…he sees me for who I am. More than any other person I’ve ever met.”
Robby always seemed to know when he was struggling: when he would silently pass Dennis a cereal bar, or pull him out of a spiral after a fumble. He knew more details about Dennis’ upbringing, his crisis of faith. The older man knew all of that because he could keenly relate, something that they only knew about each other by accident.
Would they have ever willingly dumped their problems on each other, if Dennis hadn't seen him that day in pedes? It was a question Dennis couldn’t, and didn’t want to answer.
“And you’re still sure he doesn’t like you like that? Because it sounds to me Huckleberry, that you have yourself a man that could very well be infatuated with you.”
“Don’t feed my delusions please.”
“I’m not! Even if I didn’t know you both, if you’d told me everything you have I’d still say the same.”
Dennis swallowed at that, throat tight at the possibility. Tentatively he asked, “you really think so?”
“Yes, my dearest Huckleberry.”
It was almost sweet the way she was reassuring him, until she followed it up with, “so when are you going to tap that old man?”
Dennis could only groan and thunk his head on the table.