Chapter Text
Dennis, admittedly, has made a terrible mistake.
It took until six hours into his shift for him to realize as much, (now that he’s dead on his feet it’s quite obvious.) But he really should have packed something for lunch last night.
When the company-wide email that the vending machines would be gone Monday morning In preparation to be replaced with new, actually functional ones came through; he’d filed it away for later in his mind. Tucked it kindly right behind the reminder to buy more Avocado, and feed Seymour, and bring sweet ol Mrs. Myers her Tupperware back. By the time he’d sashayed his way down that list, it slipped his mind. He’d cozied right up on the couch and continued his rewatch of Stranger Things season one.
The problem, though. Was that Trinity had reminded him no less than three times past that point to do so. Once when she came through to throw her clothes in the washer, then again when she slipped them in the dryer, then a final time when she’d smacked him upside the head for still being on the couch at 11 pm while she was getting ready for bed.
Usually, he’d make do with a protein bar and a sandwich in the break room fridge for when he got particularly peckish. But, guiltily, since he’d started making actual money near the start of his Intern year he’d fallen into the bad habit of indulging in a few snacks from the machine every shift to get him through.
The thing was busted, hardly ever worked in a timely and orderly manner. And Dennis had gotten used to his routine of breaking any bill in his wallet into change to spend on the damn thing (since it only registers change reliably, for some reason. He’d lost too many dollar bills to it with no food in return.) So it makes sense that they’d finally replace it after all the staff's complaints. Still, it sucks. Because now Dennis hangs in the midst of it all. Hungry.
And that’s how he’d ended up standing alone in the break room. Deflated and loitering in front of the vacant spot where the vending machine once stood. It’s empty, and discolored. According to the frustrations of staff who’d been there much longer than him, the vending machine hadn’t moved from its spot in years. And, apparently, it was reliably shitty for a good majority of that time. So it makes sense that the room feels odd and barren without it. He’s unsure of what he’s even doing here to begin with. Staring and willing it back into existence won’t do much to cure his all consuming hunger, afterall.
As he stands with crossed arms and an undeniable air of defeat, he definitely does not jump in surprise when someone burns rubber turning the corner into the break room.
“Fucking incompetent.”
They mutter, and Dennis glances over in meek confusion to see Robby shaking his head as he stops in front of the coffee pot to pour himself a (frankly) outrageous mug of caffeine. Dennis frowns.
Robby seems annoyed, to put it mildly. And when Dennis rocks back on the heels of his feet to glance out into the E.D. He catches sight of Gloria huffing as she makes her way past the nurses' station. Which tracks, honestly. Though his harmless curiosity fucks him over when he doesn’t notice the pair of eyes on him until he’s been caught investigating, to which he promptly flattens back out on the floor and gives his best impression of a deer in headlights.
Robby is squinting at him, lowering his mug after taking a reliably hearty gulp of coffee. It reads “#1 Girl Dad.” Chipped at the corner, and stained. Dennis had watched Trinity buy it from the dollar tree, wrap it terribly, and hand deliver it to Robby for his birthday last month. A gesture he himself found genuinely mortifying. Though Robby had tossed his head back and laughed so hard at it that Dennis heard his neck crack; He drinks from it daily.
Robbys lips smack, and Dennis breaks out in a cold sweat. Robby has always been.. sweet on him. For lack of a better description. Overly kind to him in a way he never is with the other interns, or residents for that matter. But even he still fears being on Robby’s bad side when the older man is pissed off. It’s times like this he wishes he could better read the attending.
“Sir,” Dennis says in greeting. Smiling awkwardly as his lips thin into a line, he nods.
Robby raises a brow before he speaks.
“Whitaker,” he says, tilting his head up toward the empty spot in front of Dennis. “Feelin’ sentimental?” He asks, amusedly.
Dennis flushes as a nervous grin plasters its way on his face. He laughs all wobbly like before uncrossing his arms to shove his hands in his pockets. “Oh, no, uh— just… thinking is all.” He says, shrugging. And humiliatingly, as if on cue, his stomach makes the loudest sound he’s ever heard it produce.
They stare at each other in silence for a long moment. Robby’s brows drawn up in surprise and Dennis’s face scrunched in embarrassment. He meekly pats his stomach and clears his throat.
“I.. forgot to bring lunch, actually.” Dennis says, laughing softly. The silence is killing him. Robby hums, biting back a very obvious smile. At least someone is finding joy in his terrible situation.. And Robby’s bad mood hasn’t seeped into their interaction. Robby just smiles, shaking his head in delight and setting his mug down. He reaches over to swing open the fridge.
“Mm, bad practice kid. You’re gonna have to eat more if you’re gonna keep those muscles.” He says, pulling out a glass container. There’s a sticky note plastered to the top with “Robby” scribbled in black ink. He holds it out, smiling. Dennis’s chest swells at the mention of his newfound muscular frame.
Dennis hesitates for a moment. Eyeing the container warily, a bowl of what seems to be fried rice. It looks plain, the bare minimum. But it’s food. It’s surprising to him that Robby of all people has brought himself lunch to work, perhaps therapy’s doing him good. Either way, Dennis’s starved stomach jumps for joy at the prospect of a meal.
“I couldn’t possibly take this sir—“
Robby clicks his tongue, pushing the container against Dennis’s chest and shaking his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We need you fueled up and ready,” he says, raising his brows. “Eat it.”
Dennis sucks in a sharp breath. Staring up into Robby’s warm, brown eyes. He can feel his fingers itching to take the container. The sound of Robby’s tutting rings in his ears. With mass amounts of reluctance — and a little lingering humiliation — he takes the glass and swallows thickly. “Yes sir.” He mumbles. Robby smiles.
“Atta boy,” he says, patting Dennis on the shoulder rough enough that it makes the intern feel like a fumbling MS4 on his first day of rotation all over again. Dennis swallows, his skin feels warm under his scrubs where Robby’s touch lingers. The older man turning to slink out of the break room with ease. Before he goes, he pauses. Knocking on the door frame and eyeing Dennis with a heavy gaze that he couldn’t begin to unpack then and there.
“Eat quick, be back out soon.” He says, nodding once. Dennis nods back in confirmation. Lips tucked in on each other as he squeezes the rubber lining on the lid. Robby snorts, adding a final word before he leaves. Dennis feels his legs get a bit weaker when he hears it, a little disbelieving. “Huckleberry.”