Chapter Text
To be honest, Robby had had terrible days before…terrible weeks or even months. But nothing could have prepared him for the breaking point. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment where he would look at himself in the mirror and see his reflection staring back at him with that dark gaze of pure misery. Yeah. That was the exact moment he realized he really wasn’t fine.
He had med-students howling outside for his help and patients baring their wounds at him and asking him to make it all better. But truth was? He had no fucking clue.
He was up since 6 in the morning running on 100% dark coffee and pure mechanism. His gestures were not even his, they were years of experience at his fingertips. He could barely think or stand straight.
He needed a break. He needed to get out and cry his eyes out at home with a big bag of chips. That was what he needed to do. That—and maybe fuck the wide-blue-eyed-mouse-like man who had been messing with his head since they had met.
Yeah. That would certainly fix him.
He chuckled mockingly at himself and shook his head. “I…am going insane.”
He stared at his reflection for a moment longer. The fluorescent light above the mirror flickered faintly, tinting the hollows under his eyes an ugly yellow. There was something foreign about the man looking back at him—the pale skin stretched too tight, the stubble coming in uneven, the dirty scrubs. He barely recognized himself anymore.
Someone knocked at the door.
He didn’t answer.
Another knock, softer this time. “Dr. Robby?” The voice was weak and cautious. It was him—Dennis. The one who smiled like he was afraid it might offend someone.
Robby closed his eyes. “What?” His voice cracked on the word.
Dennis shuffled outside the door. He felt awkward standing in front of the bathroom while trying to talk to Robby. “I, uh…I just wanted to check if you were alright. You’ve been in there a while.”
Robby huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. “Define ‘alright.’”
There was a pause on the other side. “You should probably sit down for a bit. You sound—” He hesitated. “—tired.”
Robby turned the tap on and let the cold water run over his wrists. “I’ve been tired since med school,” he muttered. “This is just the advanced level. You’ll get there someday.”
The man gave a small, nervous chuckle. “Still, maybe eat something? Or ask someone to take over for a bit so you can rest?”
Robby chuckled bitterly. “You offering to babysit my patients, or me?”
A pause—then the softest, breathy laugh. “Whichever you need more.”
Robby turned off the tap and finally opened the door. The hall light bled in around the small figure waiting outside. The boy glowed like a literal angel and had the most innocent doe eyes Robby had ever seen. He leaned into the door frame, arms and legs crossed, and looked down at this wide-eyed mouse-like creature standing in front of him. He had a baby-face, soft features and a nervous smile. Yet, for all his soft appearance, he was sturdy and strong—as shown by his impressive performance as a rat catcher.
His eyes looked at Robby with concern—as if he was a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any minute. Which, in all honesty, Robby really was.
He sighed. His shoulders dropped with fatigue. He felt about seventy.
“Sir?” Dennis asked—his fingers fidgeting nervously as he looked around for…what? A more responsible adult to take care of the situation? He wasn’t sure…
Robby couldn’t help the small scoff that escaped him. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the greasy texture as he ruffled it. He was a mess and he knew it. He probably smelled like coffee and despair. A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. He felt so tired. So, goddamn tired. A sharp headache started behind his temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dennis took a step forward, his eyes darting over Robby’s face as if searching for clues.
Robby felt his shoulders relax slightly despite his mental protest—calmed down by the young man’s presence.
He forced a smile on his face and clasped a hand on the back of the Dennis’s neck.
“Everything’s fine, kid. Don’t worry about me. Worry about your first week instead. Got a lot of people looking at you.”
Dennis chuckled softly, his cheeks taking on a faint pink hue at the touch. He seemed unused to physical contact; his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, although he didn’t pull away. Dennis then chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating if he should push or back off. “Are you…sure, sir?”
Robby nodded and gave him a weary smile. “No need to look so concerned, Dennis. Just having an…an off day. Happens to the best of us.”
Dennis nodded and looked down at his shoes. Gosh. Why did he have to be so awkward? “Yeah. Sure. I just…wanted to…make sure. Anyway, if you want to talk or…someone to listen or…anything really…I hum…I guess you could talk to me.”
Robby chuckled softly at the young man’s fumbling words. And yet, something deep within him stirred at the offer.
This young man…Dennis. He meant the words he spoke, that much was obvious. He genuinely cared—not because it was his job, or to get favors, but because it was part of his character.
He gently patted the man’s shoulder, hoping it came off more reassuring than patronizing. “Thank you. But like I said, I am fine. Get back to work, Whitaker.”
Dennis nodded, but the skepticism was clear in his eyes. He lingered by the door, like he was about to say more, but ultimately seemed to think better of it and gave Robby a small wave before disappearing around the corner.
Once he was gone, Robby sighed and slumped against the wall, feeling…he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was exhausted, that was for sure. His head was pounding, and the fluorescent lights above him buzzed loudly. The constant beeps and whirrs of medical equipment seemed to drill into his skull.
But he shook his head and got back to work. He had no time for a breakdown.
*An hour later*
Later, Dr. Robby had to type something in the new computer of the hospital and felt frustrated when he couldn’t find the file he wanted.
Thankfully, Dennis noticed and decided to help him.
It led to both men bent over the computer—bare inches from each other—as Dennis was trying to explain the new technology to Dr. Robby.
“Okay. So you just…press that button. Then you go to the X-ray files on the right. Past files and then click on the search bar. Finally, you search for the patient’s name. Last name. Not first name. The computer doesn’t recognise those for some reason…”
Robby nodded along—his eyes following the arrow as Daniel worked his magic. He felt even more like an old man as the boy tried to explain the not-so-complicated ways of the computer. He knew he was supposed to be the experienced one, but here he was getting a crash course on how to use the hospital’s latest technology from an intern.
He leaned in closer and squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of it all. The screen made his headache even worse and the letters swam before his eyes. He closed them for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Dennis’s fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, his tone patient but apologetic—as if he was himself feeling sorry for having to explain something to the greatest man he knew. “See? Once you hit enter, it should pop up right here. There it is.”
The file blinked open, and Robby exhaled through his nose. “Of course. Last name. Naturally.”
Dennis gave a small laugh. “Yeah, the system’s a bit…weird. Don’t take it personally.”
Robby leaned back in his chair, staring at the monitor like it had personally offended him. “I used to be good at this,” he muttered.
Dennis tilted his head, smiling a little. “At computers?”
“At everything,” Robby said, half to himself. “Now I can’t even find a damn X-ray without a translator.”
Dennis hesitated, then leaned a little closer, his voice dropping into that careful, soft tone he used when he wasn’t sure if he was crossing a line. “You’re just tired, that’s all. Happens to everyone.”
Robby’s lips twitched—a faint, humorless smile. “How come you always know what to say?”
Dennis shrugged. “Maybe I’m just good at listening.”
That got an actual laugh out of him—low, worn, but real. “Yeah? Dangerous skill in this place.”
Dennis smiled at that, eyes bright under the harsh light of the monitor. “Guess I like danger.”
Despite his exhaustion, Robby found himself amused. It was strange—there was something so attractive about how genuine this kid was. There was no bullshit, no hidden agenda. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his muscular forearms over his chest. His eyes were half-lidded as he chuckled softly. "Is that so, Whitaker? You’ll find me surprised."
Dennis shrugged, his chin propped on his hand as he met Robby’s gaze with a level look. “Surprised? Why? Think I don’t look risky?”
Robby arched an eyebrow, studying the wide-eyed, mousey face in front of him. The kid looked about as dangerous as a newborn baby. "Yeah, you look about as risky as a bowl of pudding, kid. I mean, no offense, but you look more likely to trip over your own feet than start a bar fight."
Dennis shrugged, the corner of his lips tugging up in a half-smile. "Yeah, well…appearances can be deceiving."
Robby smirked, his gaze drifting over the leanly built man, taking in the sturdy arms and the slender hips. There was something undeniably pleasing about his soft, yet sturdy figure. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His voice dipped lower. "Can they now? I guess we should all be careful then."
Dennis held his gaze for a long moment, the faintest hint of color staining his cheeks. He then looked away, clearing his throat. Robby seemed to realise he might have sounded too flirty and looked away. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The hum of the computer filled the silence, and Robby found himself watching the younger man’s reflection in the dark screen. He seemed to be holding in a smile. Or maybe was it his imagination?
He caught himself staring and turned back to the matter of the file, clearing his throat. “Right. Back to being functional.”
Dennis chuckled softly. “Do you need more help or…? I could show you again if you want? Just in case you forget?”
Robby shot him a look, but it didn’t have any bite. “Careful, kid. I still remember where the scalpels are.”
Dennis only grinned wider. “Guess that’s why I’m being extra nice.”
Robby grumbled under his breath, pretending to be more annoyed than he was. It was surprisingly easy to relax around this kid, like the constant tension he carried in his shoulders decided to take a break.
He focused back on the screen and smiled.
*Half an hour later*
The hospital had quieted down—that eerie, post-shift silence where the hum of fluorescent lights felt louder than any voice. Robby was halfway through his walk to the parking lot when he noticed the chart still sitting on the counter. Dennis’s name was signed at the bottom.
Except…Dennis hadn’t clocked out.
Robby frowned. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he was still finishing up a note or waiting for someone. But curiosity made him turn back. He eventually found him down the east wing, past the unoccupied patient rooms. The door was cracked open just slightly, light spilling out in a soft rectangle across the floor.
Robby paused, then pushed it open a little further.
And froze.
Dennis was there—headphones on, bare-chested, stripped down to his boxers, curled up on the narrow patient bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. His ID badge hung from the corner of the bedside lamp. The way he’d laid his folded uniform neatly on the chair said this wasn’t a one-time thing. Robby then noticed the soft, pale expanse of Dennis’s bare back, the broad muscles shifting beneath his skin with every movement. Then his gaze fell to the smooth, sharp lines of his shoulders—a work of art carved from white marble.
Dennis didn’t notice him at first, music leaking faintly from the headphones. He looked young in the soft light—younger than usual—his expression unguarded, peaceful in a way Robby had never seen during the day.
Robby took a step closer, and the floor suddenly creaked.
Dennis jerked awake, startled, yanking off the headphones. His eyes went wide when he saw Robby standing there, every trace of color draining from his face. “Dr. Robby—I—” He scrambled upright, reaching for his uniform. “I can explain—”
Robby lifted a hand. “Don’t.” His voice was quieter than expected. “Just…don’t.”
Dennis froze, his mouth still half open. The boy looked like a panicked fawn.
Robby glanced around the room—the crumpled blanket, the empty water bottle, the patient wristband he’d clearly been using as a bookmark on the nightstand. Everything about it screamed routine.
“Dennis,” Robby spoke up finally, running a hand down his face, “how long have you been sleeping here?”
A long pause. Dennis stared at the floor—ashamed. “…A while.”
Robby’s jaw tightened. “You don’t have anywhere else to go?”
He shook his head, eyes flicking up nervously as he tried to justify himself or to explain. “It’s fine. I—I shower before shifts. I don’t bother anyone. I just—”
“Stop.” Robby’s voice cracked on the word. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite process it. “You’ve been pulling twelve-hour shifts and sleeping in an empty patient’s room all this time?”
Dennis gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Better than outside.”
Robby felt a cold, dark anger pool in his gut. The kid was what—26, maybe 27? And he’d been sleeping on goddamn hospital chairs and cots for who knows how long. It made Robby’s stomach turn. He could still remember his own medical school days, but even back then he had had a place to crash. To imagine this kid just…not having a place to go at night…
He clenched his jaw. He then rubbed the back of his neck. He should report it. He really should. “You should’ve said something.”
Dennis smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, because that always goes well.”
Robby opened his mouth—then stopped. What could he even say to that?
The silence that followed was deafening. He couldn’t stop picturing the kid lying in some cold, empty bed, trying to catch a few hours of sleep before his next shift. He wanted to say something reassuring or helpful or supportive, something that would somehow make everything better. But the words got stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. So instead, he just stood there, feeling completely useless.
After a moment, he stepped forward, lowering his voice. “You can’t stay here, you know. Security will throw you out if they find out.”
“I know,” Dennis said softly. “I just needed…somewhere to stay.”
Robby sighed, glancing at the door, then back at him. He then took a decision. “Get dressed. Come on.”
Dennis frowned, confused. “Where—?”
“My place,” Robby answered quickly before the young man could finish his question. “At least for tonight. I got enough rooms—more than enough.”
He expected the kid to argue. To point out all the many, many reasons why this was a bad idea. Instead, there was only a long pause and then…Dennis gave a small nod, his hand gripping the uniform tightly.
Robby jerked his head towards the door in a silent motion to follow and Dennis nodded before quickly getting dressed.
They walked down the silent halls, footsteps echoing. Robby led them to the back entrance, past the nurses station where the few night shift nurses were busy chatting over cups of coffee. He gave them a nod in greeting, and then they were out.
The late night air was cold. Dennis tugged his jacket tighter around himself, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. Robby noticed. Before he could question it, he took off his own coat and wordlessly draped it over his shoulders. Dennis stared up at him, surprised, as the warmth and weight of the coat settled over his shoulders. He gave Robby an uncertain look, then adjusted the length. The sleeves hung down past his knuckles.
The sight made Robby smile in spite of himself.
*A few minutes later*
When they pulled into the driveway, the house loomed in the headlights—tall, quiet, and too tidy, the kind of place that looked like it had once expected laughter and never got any. The porch light flickered on automatically as the car shut off.
Dennis sat still for a moment, clutching his backpack like it might disappear if he let go. “You, uh…live here alone?”
Robby killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, eyes on the house. “Yeah.” His tone was even, but something in it sounded hollow. “Always thought I’d get a dog or something, but…” He gave a small shrug. “Didn’t seem fair to trap another living thing in my schedule.”
Dennis managed a faint smile at that. “Could probably train it to fetch charts.”
Robby huffed a laugh and stepped out of the car. “Come on. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Dennis hesitated for just a second before getting out of the car.
Dennis followed him up the driveway, the porch creaking under their combined weight. The sound of crickets chirped from across the street—the only sign of life in the dead silence of the neighborhood. Inside, the house was cold and dark. Dennis hovered awkwardly by the door, watching as Robby switched on lights and went through the motions of getting comfortable.
It was a nice house with dark wooden floors and high ceilings. The inside of the house was neat, almost painfully so. No clutter, no family photos—just clean lines, books, and the faint smell of coffee that had probably soaked into the walls years ago. The living room had two armchairs and a couch that looked barely used.
Dennis hovered in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. “You weren’t kidding,” he murmured. “You could fit a family in here.”
Robby dropped his keys into a ceramic bowl by the door and glanced back at him. “Yeah, well. Guess I forgot to order one.”
Dennis let out a small, nervous laugh, setting his backpack down carefully near the couch. “It’s…nice. Really nice.”
*Empty, is what it is.*
The thought surfaced in Robby’s mind before he could shove it away. This place wasn't a home—it was a museum. Cold. Sterile. Unlived-in.
But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Want me to take the coat back? I could…make some tea."
Dennis looked down at the coat again, rubbing his thumb over the heavy fabric. It was warm, and it smelled like…like clean laundry and coffee. It was a lot better than the smell of antiseptic that usually stuck to him. He lifted his head and met Robby's gaze with another nervous smile. This was…awkward. He didn't really know what to do with himself around the older man, in this big house, at this hour of the night. He was more used to—
He stopped himself from finishing that thought. "I…guess I could use some tea."
Robby nodded. “Guest room’s down the hall, first door on the left. Sheets are clean.” He hesitated before adding, “Bathroom’s next to it. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”
Dennis blinked. “You’re just—letting me stay? Like that?”
Robby gave him a tired look. “Dennis, I’m too exhausted to make a moral dilemma out of basic decency.”
That earned a smile—small and genuine. As Dennis disappeared down the hallway with his bag, Robby lingered in the quiet, staring at the empty space around him. The house had always felt too large, but tonight, for the first time, it didn’t feel empty.
He shook his head and prepared the tea.
…
While the water boiled, he found himself staring at the clock on the microwave. It was almost 2am. For a moment, he wondered if this was a bad idea. Of course, it was a bad idea. Helping out your exhausted coworker after a 12-hour shift is one thing. Inviting him into your house is another matter.
And yet. He knew he couldn’t have let that boy sleep on that hospital bed another night.
By the time Dennis reemerged, still in his coat and scrubbing his eyes, Robby had a pot of tea and two chipped mugs sitting on the counter. The younger man looked as exhausted as Robby was—his hair in messy strands over his forehead, eyes bleary, the oversized coat almost dwarfing his frame. If there was an opposite of threatening, it was Dennis, in that moment.
Robby watched him take a hesitant step into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes before reaching up to grab a mug.
He cleared his throat. “Milk or sugar?”
Dennis glanced up, blinking. He seemed a little more at ease in this setting. His eyes flicked over the mugs—he knew the answer to this one.
He gave a small, tired smile. “Both, if you have it. Please.”
Robby nodded and turned to rummage through the fridge, pulling out a carton of creamer.
After it was done, Dennis sipped the tea, trying to ignore how much his hands were shaking. It was almost three in the morning. He looked just about ready to collapse.
They drank their tea in silence, leaning side-by-side against the counter.
Robby watched as Dennis tried to keep his eyes open. He had dark circles under his eyes and he kept rubbing his eyes. In the harsh lights of his kitchen, the kid looked like a walking corpse.
Eventually, Dennis’s head started to droop. He jerked himself awake, blinking blearily as he took another sip of tea.
Robby finally took the empty mug away from him. “Go to bed, kid.”
Dennis almost protested, then shut his mouth. His eyes were unfocused, and he couldn’t stop yawning. He looked like a second away from passing out.
He nodded blearily and mumbled a murmured “Thanks for the tea,” before turning to drift towards the hall.
Robby watched him go before cleaning both mugs and going to bed himself.
*Later…*
Thunder rattled the windows again, a deep, rolling sound that vibrated through the walls. Robby lay awake, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open in the dark. He’d given up pretending to sleep an hour ago.
The house creaked in the wind—old pipes, old wood—the usual noises he never noticed until someone else was under the same roof.
Then he heard it.
Soft at first. A stifled sound, almost like breathing—no, whimpering. He frowned, pushing himself up on his elbows, listening. It was coming from down the hall.
*What the hell?*
He pushed himself out of bed in one, smooth motion, grabbing his pants from the ground and sliding them on. He didn’t bother buttoning them as he padded down the hall, heading towards the guest room.
The sound was clearer now. Soft, low, desperate, stifled. It sounded—like someone crying.
When the next thunderclap hit, there was a sharp, muffled sob.
Robby hesitated — just a heartbeat — then pushed the door open.
The bed was empty. The blanket was missing.
For a second, he thought Dennis wasn’t there at all. But then he noticed the edge of the blanket trailing down the side of the bed, and when he crouched slightly, he saw him. Dennis was curled up on the floor, underneath the bed, wrapped tight in the blanket like a cocoon. His headphones on his ears, his face buried in the fabric. His shoulders trembled with every quiet sniffle.
*Oh.*
Robby froze. It didn’t take a genius to recognize a panic attack when he saw one. But the sight still took him off guard. Dennis looked like a scared little kid. So small and terrified, curled up against the wall in a room he didn’t know. It broke some part of him, and for a moment, he just knelt there, watching the younger man shiver.
Robby’s chest tightened. “Hey,” he called out gently.
Dennis jerked, eyes wide, the kind of terrified reaction that came from memory, not surprise. He blinked rapidly, realizing who it was, and scrambled to sit up. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you—”
“Stop.” Robby knelt, keeping his voice low. “You didn’t. It’s fine.”
Dennis wiped at his face quickly, embarrassed. “It’s stupid, I just—thunderstorms—”
“—aren’t stupid,” Robby finished for him. His voice was gentle in a way that made Dennis’s throat tighten again. “You’re fine.”
“I just…can’t sleep when they’re loud.” He confessed.
Robby nodded. “You want to come out from under there?”
Dennis looked like he wanted to shake his head, but after a beat of hesitation, he nodded.
Robby reached out, gently tugging the blanket. He had to bite back a laugh at the way the kid was bundled up like a caterpillar and started worming himself out from under the bed. Dennis let himself be pulled out, sitting up and scrubbing at his face again. Thunder rumbled, rattling the windows. He flinched despite himself.
Robby sighed and sat down beside the bed. “Alright then. I guess I’ll just sit here for a while.”
Dennis blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Can’t sleep anyway.”
For a long moment, they just sat there next to each other, the thunder rolling and fading in the distance. Dennis fidgeted with the corner of the blanket. Meanwhile, Robby kept his eyes closed, listening as the younger man shifted around, trying to get comfortable.
Finally, Dennis spoke, his voice soft. "You, uh. Probably think this is dumb."
Robby didn’t open his eyes. He just raised an eyebrow and kept his voice as neutral as possible. "Why would I think that?"
That earned a tired chuckle from the young med-student. "C’mon. I mean—a twenty-six year old college-educated man is scared of thunderstorms. That's dumb."
Robby kept his eyes shut and shrugged. "I don't think it's dumb."
Dennis glanced up at him, unconvinced. "You don’t have to lie to be nice."
"I'm not." was Robby’s fast answer. He truly wasn’t trying to be nice. Everyone was scared of something. And thunderstorms did kill people. It wasn’t an unreasonable fear…But his answer did catch Dennis off guard. Robby didn't open his eyes, but his mouth had a slightly amused twitch. He couldn't stop himself from adding, "I think you're a lot of things, kid. Overworked, tired, a people pleaser, slightly too skinny...But dumb isn’t one of them."
A beat of silence. Dennis stared at him for a long minute, trying to decide if he was being made fun of. But the older man was still perfectly relaxed, not looking back at him.
After a while, Robby spoke again. “You hide under beds often?”
Dennis gave a tiny, embarrassed laugh. “Used to, when I was a kid. It felt…safer.”
“Yeah,” Robby murmured. “I get that.”
Silence again, except for the rain hitting the windows.
When the next rumble came, Dennis flinched again—and Robby, without thinking, reached down, resting a steady hand on Dennis’s shoulder. Just enough pressure to remind him he wasn’t alone.
The trembling eased.
Neither of them said anything after that. The storm went on outside, but inside the small, quiet bedroom, the world finally felt still again. Dennis found his eyes getting heavy again. The warmth of the blanket and the soft, steady beat of rain against the window made him sleepy. He was slowly starting to doze off, just a little. His head started to droop, but he jerked it up, trying to stay awake.
Robby noticed and smiled. "You can get on the bed and sleep, kid. I’ll make sure no thunderstorm gets you, okay?"
Dennis’s face flushed again—part guilt, part embarrassment—but at this hour, and after everything, his exhaustion quickly won over his pride. He pushed the blanket aside, climbing onto the bed. He was shivering slightly from the cold, even though the room was warm. He curled up on his side, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.
Thunder rolled through the air again. Dennis shuddered, burying his face into the pillow.
Robby crawled after him and tapped his shoulder. “It’s okay. Ssh…”
Robby then started praying in Hebrew.
Dennis lifted his head slightly, looking over his shoulder in the dark. Even though he didn’t understand a word, there was something so…soothing in the sound. As if the words could protect him from harm…Before he knew it, he was drifting off, his thoughts growing hazy and slow. Something about the steady tone and the hushed words made him feel calmer than he had in months.
He let his eyes close. The pillow was soft under his head, the blanket warm around him. With the steady drone of Robby’s voice in his ear, the world suddenly didn’t seem so frightening.
Before long, he was slipping into sleep, still listening to Robby murmuring prayers in the dark.