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“That was really fucking stupid.”
Robby doesn’t turn his head. He mutters to himself, something Dennis can’t make out, muffled and swallowed by the inhale of his cigarette.
He’s sitting on the curb outside the bar, head hanging low and eyes fixed on the road in front of him. Dennis folds his arms over his chest as he hovers on the sidewalk, hearing the door of the bar behind him swing open and shut as a pair of laughing girls spill out and stumble their way down the street.
Ten minutes ago, Dennis was sitting at the bar, smiling politely and desperately trying to catch Trinity’s eye while being talked at by a man who was inching further and further into his personal space by the second. He hadn’t really wanted to talk to him in the first place, but a free drink was a free drink and he was content enough to make light conversation for a little while until Trinity was ready to go.
But the guy- Simon, maybe, or Sam? -had started to catch on to his waning attention, and nudged Dennis’s forearm, drawing him away from where Trinity and Garcia were leaning increasingly on top of each other across the room. He asked Dennis some mundane question, and by the time he had given him a lackluster answer with a tight smile, his beer was pretty much finished and he was ready to collect his roommate and make a polite exit. But he looked up, and Trinity was gone.
He frowned before he could stop himself, craning his neck for any sign of Trinity- or Garcia -and felt a strong arm on his shoulder pulling him closer.
“Someone else got your eye, sweetheart?”
Dennis had recoiled immediately, what little passive interest he had in the guy fading swiftly away like dust in the wind at the slimy pet name.
“My roommate,” he had said, downing the last of his beer and giving the guy another polite smile. “She’s- I think I gotta go, we’re gonna walk home together, and we’re-”
“Your roommate’s fine, huh?” He said, and Dennis realized far too late the sharp, mean edge to the way his eyes narrowed when he smiled. He shifted his shoulder, attempting to shake loose and step down from the stool, but the guy’s grip only tightened. His hand slid down to Dennis’s bicep, fingers curling around the muscle as he grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dennis shook him off properly, stepping down from his stool, only for the guy to reach out for his wrist and grab a tight hold, nails digging into his skin. Before he could respond, tell the guy to fuck off and book it outside so he could call Trinity and tell her to get her ass in gear, he heard a voice behind him.
“I think we’re done here.”
It was Robby, who Dennis thought had left eons ago. Half the ED had all wandered over to a pub down the block from the hospital, beat after a long shift and looking to unwind. Robby usually didn’t even join them at the pub in the first place when they did this, let alone stay for more than one drink.
“Look, man-” the guy had started, trying to tug Dennis in his direction, but failing when Robby held him still with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Let go of him,” Robby said, voice steady and low, “and close out for the night. It’s time to go.”
Dennis pulled his arm away, finally shaking the guy loose, and took half a step back into Robby. He was a solid presence behind him, millimeter of space between his front and Dennis’s back radiating heat.
“Listen, asshole,” the guy had started, reaching for Dennis once again, but in the blink of an eye, he was on the ground, Robby shaking his hand out.
Before Dennis could even catch up to what had happened, Robby was gone, the guy moaning and shouting something about a lawsuit as other bargoers appeared around him to see what was going on. The bartender was eyeing him suspiciously, and it seemed like as good a time as any to make his exit.
And now, here he is. Standing on the sidewalk with his arms folded, waiting for the back of Robby’s head to reveal all his secrets as smoke curls up from in front of him.
Dennis steps forward, dropping down next to Robby on the curb, pretending that he sits too close by accident and trying not to revel in the way their knees bump. He says nothing else, but reaches out his index and middle finger, biting back a smile when Robby puts the cigarette between them. Their index fingers bump, just along the edge, practically unreal and in a way that Dennis probably wouldn’t notice if it was anyone else, if sparks of electricity didn’t pulse through his hand.
Dennis takes a long inhale, and Robby finally turns to meet his gaze. His eyes flit, for an everlasting millisecond, to the way Dennis’s lips fit around the smoke. Dennis says nothing, and they watch each other for a drawn-out moment.
“Smoking kills, you know,” Robby finally says, and Dennis coughs a laugh as he exhales, passing the cigarette back. Robby takes it, and as he slots it into his mouth, Dennis holds out both palms.
“Let me see,” he says, and Robby acquiesces, offering the back of his hand. Dennis takes it, forcing himself not to think about how just one of Robby’s hands is the same size as both of his, or else his ability to form sentences is going to pack it up for the night.
He brushes a thumb over Robby's reddening knuckles, skin splitting ever-so-slightly in two places, and looks up with raised eyebrows when he hears Robby suck in a sharp, painful breath at the contact.
“Stupid thing to do,” Dennis repeats, and Robby rolls his eyes. He holds out the cigarette, and Dennis takes it with one hand, other one not letting go of Robby. Robby doesn’t pretend not to watch his mouth, this time, and the neon sign outside of the bar illuminates the hungry glint in his eye. Dennis shivers, in spite of the June heat.
Robby meets his eye once again, and Dennis exhales out of the corner of his mouth. He passes the cigarette back, and stands, offering out a hand to help Robby up.
“Come on,” he says, and Robby quirks an eyebrow.
“Come on?”
“Come home with me,” Dennis says, wincing momentarily at the phrasing. “Like- just come with me. It’s only two blocks from here. I’ll clean you up, and you shouldn’t ride home right now, anyways. That thing is enough of a death trap when you’re sober.”
“I’m sober,” Robby says, and Dennis’s expression flattens.
“Let me clean you up,” Dennis repeats, more insistently. He’s not sure where this confidence came from, but it’s been brewing for months, sharpened by every slip-up he catches from the med students, every sly glance he shares with Trinity when they both hear something that’s going to be discussed ad nauseum on the walk home that night.
Every time he turns to look at Robby and finds him already pretending not to stare.
“Whitaker-”
“Dennis,” he says. At the hospital, it’s one thing, but he’s asked Robby before to call him by his first name when they’re… doing whatever it is that they do.
“Dennis. Sorry,” He says, and shakes his head. “Dennis. I’m not hanging out in Santos’s apartment, it’s-”
“Santos is long gone,” Dennis says. “Garcia won’t stay at our place anymore, and they left together ages ago.”
Robby weighs this, taking another long inhale of smoke.
“Stay for a few hours, at least,” Dennis says, and then, because it’s possible that he’s insane. “Please?”
Robby raises his eyebrows, but Dennis can tell immediately that it works. He wraps a hand around Dennis's forearm and lets him pull him to his feet, stumbling ever so slightly.
“You want this?” Robby asks, and though he holds up what’s left of the cigarette between them, Dennis doesn’t really think that’s what he’s asking about.
He nods.
Robby turns the cigarette in his fingers, gripping it just above the filter, and wordlessly holds it to Dennis’s mouth. Dennis parts his lips slightly, taking it in, and inhales, staring up at Robby through heavy lashes.
Fuck, Robby breathes, and tosses the butt to the pavement below them, grinding it out under his shoe.
Dennis takes a wide step back, and reaches his hand out without thinking. He’s about to recoil in embarrassment, turn away and go silent for the next three minutes until he can push the memory down enough to hold a normal conversation, until he feels strong fingers thread with his.
“Let’s go,” Robby says, and Dennis is already pulling him down the empty street.