Chapter Text
Unknown number:
Hi Dr Robby, hope this is not weird, but I overheard you talking to Dana about needing a house sitter this weekend. I would be happy to help if you still need someone.
Dr Robby:
I am sorry, who is this?
Unknown number:
Oh shit, sorry. It is Dennis. I should have led with that.
Dennis Whitaker. You probably know about sixty Dennises.
Dr Robby:
I actually only know two, and the other one is a baby, so I would be very surprised if he messaged me.
Dennis:
Well, you know it's me. I thought I would ask, do you still need a house sitter this weekend? I mean, if you have not already found someone.
Dr Robby:
I have not found anyone, so that would be great. What are your rates?
Dennis:
My rates? You mean how much I am going to charge you?
Um… I was going to do it for free. Like, it would be a holiday for me, as—
Dr Robby:
No, we are not doing that. I will pay you. But thank you.
Dennis:
Okay, if you are sure. You can just pay me what you think is fair. I really do not know what to charge.
Dr Robby:
Okay. I will chat to you about it tomorrow after the shift. Do you come past my place on your way home, and I will show you where everything is and give you a set of keys?
Dennis did not have butterflies in his stomach during the whole shift. He did not blush every time Trinity brought up, as she so annoyingly called it, his new “sleeping arrangements”. It was a perfectly normal shift, thank you very much. What was not normal was Robby coming up to him halfway through and saying it made sense for them to leave together at the end. To Dennis’s horror, Princess overheard this, and by the look she gave him, he knew half the ED would hear about the comment within thirty minutes.
The shift finally wound down, and Dennis found himself lingering by the staff exit. What was Robby doing? Why was he taking so long? Was he trying to torture Dennis? “Don’t be a fool, Dennis. He doesn’t think about you in the slightest,” Dennis thought.
Still, his mind refused to stop rehearsing every possible scenario of leaving the ED with Robby. What if he tripped over his own feet? What if he said something embarrassingly stupid? What if—he shuddered—the entire staff was watching as they walked out together? Which would be fine because they were just friends, not even work colleagues, and barely that. Robby was paying Dennis for his services… no, no, not like that.
He glanced at the entrance again and spotted Robby approaching, keys in hand, calm as ever. Dennis’s stomach did a little somersault anyway. He tried to take a deep breath, reminding himself that it was just a simple handover, just keys, nothing more.
Nothing more.
Robby finally reached him, still calm as ever. Dennis straightened instinctively, though he knew there was nothing formal about this handover.
“Ready?” Robby asked, his tone casual, but there was a faint lift at the corner of his mouth that Dennis swore was meant just for him.
“Yes,” Dennis said, a little too quickly. “I mean… yeah. Ready. I normally take the bus when Trinity is not working, so it will be nice to drive with you and not smell day-old BO.”
Dennis cringed. BO. BO. That is what you think Robby wants to talk about right now?
Robby’s eyes flicked to him briefly as they walked to his bakkie. He chuckled. “Well, here is hoping I do not have BO.”
As Dennis slid into the passenger seat, he reminded himself fiercely that this was just a key handover. Absolutely nothing else. And yet, the slight brush of Robby’s shoulder as they settled into the car made him immediately doubt his own logic.
Dennis knew Robby would have money. I mean, he was the attending in charge of the ED, but this… this was next level. This penthouse apartment was like something out of Architectural Digest. Dennis was pretty sure he was drooling.
He could not look after this place. What if he broke a glass? It would probably take him ten years to pay off the debt.
Robby set his keys down on the counter and gestured around the flat as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
“Right. So, the alarm system is by the door. Code’s already set, I’ll write it down for you. Just make sure you arm it when you leave.”
Dennis nodded. “Yep. Alarm. Got it.”
He did not, in fact, get it.
Robby moved further inside, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair with an ease that made Dennis’s brain short-circuit slightly.
“The kitchen’s fully stocked. Help yourself to anything,” Robby said, almost as an afterthought. “Seriously. Whatever you want.”
Dennis’s eyes flicked to the kitchen properly for the first time, and for a brief, shining moment, something like confidence returned. “I can cook,” he said, a little too quickly. “Properly. Not just, you know, survival-level.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Good. That puts you ahead of me.”
Dennis huffed out a small laugh, but it faded quickly as Robby stepped closer, leaning against the counter like he had every right to look that comfortable in a place like this. Which, of course, he did.
Dennis, on the other hand, was having a minor internal crisis.
“And the guest room is down the hall,” Robby continued. “Fresh linen’s already on the bed. The bathroom’s just opposite. You should have everything you need.”
Dennis nodded again. “Yes. Everything. Absolutely.”
What Dennis needed was for Robby to stop doing that thing where he stood there, sleeves slightly rolled, looking entirely at home in a space that felt like it belonged in a magazine. It was deeply unhelpful.
“Dennis?”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Yes. Guest room. Linen. Bathroom. I am following.”
Robby held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering there, before he straightened.
“Good,” he said, quieter now. “I would hate to think I am talking to myself.”
Dennis let out a nervous breath and tried very hard to focus on anything other than Robby.
Dennis left thirty minutes later, keys in hand and a list of instructions written down. Which was great, because he remembered very little other than Robby looking hot in his library.
Dennis would return the next morning, around ten, after Robby had left for the long weekend. For now, he was curled up in his bed at Trinity’s apartment. It had been his place of residence for two months now, but he was reluctant to call it home just yet. Things had a way of changing too quickly for Dennis, ever since he had left Broken Bone, and he had learned not to hold on too tightly.
Dennis settled himself into bed, curling up with the plush panda he had stolen from Trinity. Having a cuddly little friend was definitely something he could never have had growing up, and it brought him a mix of joy and guilt.
As he tried to fall asleep, he told himself that the knot in his chest had nothing to do with penthouses or soft smiles or the way Robby had said his name like it mattered.
Sleep came slowly, then all at once.
And then Robby was there.
Not in the penthouse, not in the ED, but somewhere in between. Close enough that Dennis did not question it.
Robby stood in front of him, sleeves rolled, expression softer than Dennis had ever seen it. There was no rush, no noise, no constant pull of patients and alarms. Just quiet.
“Dennis,” he said, and it sounded different here. Warmer.
Dennis opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came. Robby stepped closer instead, close enough that Dennis could feel the heat of him, steady and grounding.
A hand settled briefly at Dennis’s shoulder. Familiar. Like it always did in the ED, when Robby was talking to him. But this time, the fingers lingered, sliding slightly, brushing along the line of his neck, resting at his pulse point.
“You did well today,” Robby murmured.
Dennis let out a breath he had not realised he was holding.
Robby’s thumb brushed once, slow and deliberate, over his pulse. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Dennis’s breath caught.
Robby stepped closer, closing what little space remained between them. There was no hesitation here, none of the careful distance Dennis had come to expect. Just quiet certainty.
His hand shifted, steady at the back of Dennis’s neck, guiding rather than pulling.
Dennis did not move away.
Robby leaned in, slow enough that Dennis could have stopped it, if he wanted to.
He did not.
The kiss was gentle. Brief. Soft in a way that made something in Dennis’s chest ache rather than spark.
And then—
The sharp whirr of a blender shattered the dream.
Dennis jolted awake, heart racing, the quiet of the dream replaced by the all too familiar noise of Trinity’s morning routine.
“Are you serious?” Trinity’s voice called from the kitchen. “We are out of bananas again. How does this keep happening?”
Dennis stared up at the ceiling, breathing unevenly, one hand still curled loosely around the plush panda. For a moment, he did not move, his other hand drifting up to his neck, slowly rubbing where Robby’s hand had been in the dream.
“Dennis, if you used the last banana, I swear—”
“I didn’t!” he called back, his voice coming out slightly strained. He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t me.”
There was a pause.
“…you sound weird,” Trinity said.
Dennis dragged a hand over his face, willing his heartbeat to slow. “I just woke up.”
“Mm, right. Sure,” Trinity muttered. The blender roared back to life.
Dennis let his arm fall back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling again.
Just a dream.
A completely normal dream about his boss.
The flat felt different with Robby gone.
Dennis stood just inside the entrance hall, keys in hand, like he was waiting for something to happen. For someone to tell him he was not supposed to be there.
Nothing did.
“Right,” he muttered to himself. “Completely normal.”
He kicked off his shoes by the door, then hesitated, glancing down at them like they might have already done damage to the floor. After a second, he nudged them neatly to the side, dropping his bag next to them.
The place looked exactly the same as it had the night before. Immaculate. Controlled. Like something out of a magazine.
Dennis exhaled slowly and forced himself to move.
He started small.
A glass of water.
Then opening the fridge.
That was a mistake.
It was full. Not just stocked, but organised in a way that made Dennis instinctively want to fix his posture: fresh produce, labelled containers, actual ingredients.
Robby had said to help himself.
“Seriously. Whatever you want,” he had said.
Dennis stared at the shelves for a long moment.
Then, slowly, something in him shifted.
“Alright,” he said under his breath. “We can work with this.”
An hour later, the kitchen looked very different.
Not messy. Never messy. But used.
Dennis moved easily through the space now, sleeves pushed up, music playing softly from Robby’s sound system as he baked. He had just meant to make himself something for lunch and then prep something for supper, but the urge to bake had taken over. Robby had everything he needed to make so many of his favourites.
There was no way Dennis would eat everything he was baking, but leaving something behind for Robby to come home to filled him with a quiet, giddy sort of joy.
Dennis had just pulled the second tray of sugar cookies out of the oven when his phone buzzed against the counter.
He glanced at the screen.
Robby.
His stomach dropped anyway.
Dennis wiped his hands quickly on a dish towel, his mind already racing. Had he missed something? Forgotten a rule? Used something he was not supposed to? He looked around, trying to spot if he had broken anything or made more of a mess than just the baking.
He stared at the phone, letting it ring longer than he should.
“Hi,” he said, a little too quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I was just, um, in the kitchen.”
There was a brief pause on the other end.
“Dennis,” Robby said, steady as ever. “Why are you apologising?”
Dennis blinked.
Right.
“Sorry,” he said again, then winced. “I mean—right. Hi.”
If Robby noticed, he did not comment on it. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” Dennis said immediately. “Everything is exactly how you left it. I have not moved anything important. I just—” He stopped himself, aware he was rambling. “It is all fine.”
Another pause. Not tense. Just quiet.
“Dennis,” Robby said, a little softer now, “I am not calling to check up on you.”
Dennis swallowed. “Oh. Right.”
“I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”
The words did not quite land the way they were supposed to. Dennis leaned back against the counter, eyes flicking over the kitchen, the neatly arranged trays, the cleaned surfaces.
“I am fine,” he said, more carefully this time. “The flat is… very nice.”
“I am aware,” Robby replied dryly, and Dennis could hear the faint hint of a smile in his voice.
Something in Dennis eased, just slightly.
“I may have been baking since I got here at eleven thirty. I hope you do not mind?”
“Dennis,” Robby said, a touch of amusement creeping in now, “you are allowed to use the kitchen.”
“I know. You said that. I did not realise how much I would…” He trailed off, glancing at the rows of baked goods. “…commit.”
Robby huffed out a quiet laugh.
“I will take that as a good sign,” he said.
Dennis smiled despite himself, the tightness in his chest loosening a fraction.
“I will clean everything,” he added quickly. “Properly.”
“I am sure you will,” Robby said. Then, after a beat, a little quieter, “You do not have to be careful with everything, you know. Things are not going to break just because you look at them.”
Dennis’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
“Right,” he said.
They lingered there for a moment, the silence stretching just a little longer than necessary.
“Anyway,” Robby said, slipping back into something lighter, “I will let you get back to your baking.”
Dennis lay on Robby’s comfy leather couch, watching reruns of Parks and Rec. He had eaten his weight in cookies and pastries he had baked and had experimented with Robby’s coffee machine, and now he was completely tuckered out. His panda plushie made a perfect pillow as he slipped off to sleep.
Dennis’s eyes fluttered shut, and the apartment blurred into dream-light.
He was in the kitchen, but everything felt sharper, more vivid. The smell of coffee, the warmth of the oven, the faint hum of music—it all wrapped around him, heavy and intimate.
And then Robby was there.
He didn’t enter through the door. He was simply… there. Leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled, eyes dark and unreadable.
“Hey,” he said, voice low, casual, but there was something in the tilt of his head, the way his gaze lingered, that made Dennis’s chest tighten.
Dennis swallowed. “Hi.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Robby stepped closer. Just close enough that Dennis could feel the warmth radiating off him. A hand brushed against Dennis’s arm, lightly, teasingly, as if checking for a reaction. Dennis shivered.
“You’ve been busy,” Robby murmured, eyes flicking down at the trays of cookies still cooling. “I think you deserve a break.”
Before Dennis could respond, Robby’s hands were at his waist, fingers brushing the small of his back, guiding him gently toward the counter. He leaned in, a whisper against Dennis’s ear: “You always work so hard. Let me show you how much I appreciate it.”
Dennis’s stomach flipped. He tried to tell himself it was a dream, that none of this could happen, but his body betrayed him.
Robby lifted Dennis as if he weighed nothing. He settled him on the counter, closing the space between them. His hands remained firm but gentle at Dennis’s waist, holding him close.
Dennis’s heart was hammering. He tried to remind himself it was just a dream, but the warmth, the pressure, the way Robby’s presence filled the space—it all felt too real.
Robby leaned in, lips brushing against Dennis’s, teasing at first. Dennis froze, then tilted slightly, letting the kiss deepen. It started soft, exploratory, but quickly grew more urgent, more consuming.
Dennis’s hands instinctively went to Robby’s shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Every brush of lips, every press of their bodies sent sparks through him.
Robby’s hands roamed confidently, driving Dennis further into a whirl of sensation. A moan escaped his lips as he fought to keep himself grounded, to stay tethered to reality, craving only to be closer, to taste every inch of Robby.
Then, just as Robby’s hand brushed lower, Dennis jolted awake, his phone blaring beside him.
Before he had time to right himself, the phone call cut off. Dennis blinked, bleary-eyed, and saw it was an unknown number.
Reeling from both the dream and the sudden wake-up, Dennis trudged to the guest room.
Dr Robby:
Good morning, Dennis. I hope you slept well. Just letting you know, I’ll be back tomorrow around 16:30. You don’t have to be gone when I get back, but if you are, just leave the keys on the entry hall table and pull the door shut when you leave.
Dennis:
Morning, Robby. Don’t worry, I’ll be gone when you get back. Everything will be clean and in order, just like you left it.
Dr Robby:
I’m sure it will be. Also, the bagel shop on the corner of my street does an amazing breakfast bagel. You should check it out this morning. I left a little extra cash in the drawer in the entrance hall, just for that. Don’t say no, take the money and eat the food. Let me treat you.
Dennis stared at the message, his stomach twisting. Did I do something wrong? No, he wouldn’t be upset that I was in the kitchen too much yesterday. But then… how did the money get there? Did he plan this, a way of getting me out of his space?
He blinked, shook his head, and told himself to calm down. It’s just breakfast. Just a bagel. Stop overthinking.
Still, a small smile tugged at his lips. Dennis typed quickly, fingers a little shaky.
Dennis:
Thanks, Robby. I’ll grab one. That’s really kind of you.
Before putting his phone down and starting his morning, Dennis noticed two missed calls from the same unknown number as last night… strange.
Forty minutes later, Dennis tried not to overthink as he sent Robby a photo of himself holding the giant breakfast bagel, grinning from ear to ear.
He almost dropped the bagel when his phone rang immediately afterwards. It was Robby.
Dennis fumbled with the phone, nearly dropping the bagel again. He took a deep breath and swiped to answer.
“Hi,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though it came out a little too high.
“Hey, Dennis,” Robby’s calm, warm voice came through immediately. “That bagel looked impressive in the photo. One of my favourites. What do you think?”
Dennis’s cheeks heated. “I… I haven’t yet. I just… I wanted to show you I got one, did what you said, you know…” He trailed off, flustered.
Robby was quiet for a little longer than Dennis was comfortable with. He was about to fill the silence when Robby finally spoke. “Look, kid, I’m glad you’re having the bagel, but it wasn’t an order, you know. You could have taken the money and gone somewhere else. I just thought you might enjoy it. That’s all.”
Dennis blinked, heat rising in his chest.
“You still there, Dennis?” Robby asked.
“Oh shit, yes, sorry. Um… thanks, Robby. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing. Thank you,” Dennis said lamely, cringing at how awkward he sounded.
“See you tomorrow, kid,” Robby replied.
Dennis felt brave after his breakfast and decided to bake even more. He thought he would try making some classic Jewish baked goods. He had never attempted them before, but he figured it might be something nice for Robby to come home to.
He wanted to keep it a surprise, but when the challah came out looking perfect, at least to him, he couldn’t help himself and sent off a quick picture to Robby.
Dennis had barely put his phone down when it started ringing again. He froze for a split second, heart skipping a beat. It’s Robby. He’s calling again! That has got to mean something, right?
He swiped to answer, smiling already, ready to gush about how proud he was of his own baking.
“Hi,” he said, trying to sound casual but a little too eager.
“Dennis,” a voice said. It was cold, sharp, filled with dark memories of the past. Not Robby.
Dennis froze. His stomach dropped. It can’t be… it can’t be…
“Mom?” he whispered, dread coiling in his chest.
Dennis swallowed hard before answering, his fingers trembling around the phone.
“Dennis,” his mother said, voice sharp and cold, dripping with authority. “Have you renounced your evil ways yet?”
His stomach turned. “Mom, I—”
“You will not speak unless I am finished. You are walking straight into hell, Dennis. Do you understand that? You are sinful and unworthy. Every choice you make drags you closer to fire.”
Dennis felt his throat tighten. “I am… I am living my life. I am not hurting anyone.”
“Hurting anyone?” she hissed. “You are hurting yourself and disgracing your family. And you think you can hide from God? From me? You are still the same boy who needed correction. Do you remember the punishments that kept you safe and pure? Perhaps we should remind you what happens to those who stray.”
Dennis’s hands shook violently, gripping the phone as cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Memories he had buried for years surged back, the fear, the pain, the helplessness.
“I… I am not that person anymore,” he whispered.
“Do not speak to me in excuses. Sinful thoughts must be broken. If you do not submit, if you do not repent, then the consequences will come. You will be punished again, Dennis, and you will know fear the way you did before. That is the only way to return to the path of righteousness.”
Dennis’s chest tightened, his vision swimming. “I… I cannot. I will not. I am not…”
“You will, Dennis. You will obey. You will suffer if necessary. You are nothing but a disgrace, and your soul is forfeit unless you bend and repent. If you need a reminder of the pain that comes from your sin, look at your back. I am sure there are marks still there, those marks that were the beginning of your redemption, and you threw that all away.”
Dennis stared at the phone, his hands trembling uncontrollably. When his mother finished speaking, something inside him snapped. With a sharp cry, he hurled the phone across the room. It bounced off the counter and clattered to the floor, screen cracking slightly.
He stumbled back, heart hammering, and ran to the guest room. He didn’t look at the mess he had made. He barely noticed the broken phone lying on the floor.
Shaking, he crawled into the closet and pulled his knees to his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around his panda plushie, the one small comfort he had allowed himself.
His breathing slowed, but only just. The world outside the closet felt impossibly loud and cruel. His eyes squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corners.