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The vending machine loomed tall over Dennis. The light from it cast a soft glow over his face as he gazed at the numerous multicolored packages of snack foods. Nearing the end of his shift, Dennis was undergoing decision paralysis; there were way too many options.
He knew his blood sugar was starting to drop, could feel the beginning signs of fatigue, irritability, and a subtle shakiness, and he couldn’t ignore the text from Michael telling him to eat something.
Dennis had only recently been diagnosed with diabetes, so learning how to adapt had been a big adjustment, especially for a med student who thrived off minimum sleep, skipped meals, and junk food. He was extremely thankful for Michael. They had met at a coffee shop about 3 months before his diagnosis and they had quickly fallen for each other. They seemed to each perfectly fit into a gap the other needed.
Once Dennis received the news that would forever change his life, Michael was there for him every step of the way, going as far as making sure Dennis’ blood sugar monitor also sent readings to his phone, so he could make sure Dennis was okay. They had been together for about 8 months now, and it couldn’t be better.
Since Dennis had started his rotation in the Pitt with Michael, he had noticed that it was easier with someone else close by to help him monitor his sugars. Nobody else at the Pitt knew about his diabetes yet, except for Dana and Jack, as it was hard to keep dosing himself with insulin a secret when the 4 of them met up for dinner.
As for the others, he mostly kept it a secret because he didn’t want to risk being singled out or treated differently. He wanted them to get to know him as Dennis and not just be known as the med student with diabetes. Besides, Trinity already nicknamed him “Huckleberry,” he didn’t need another, maybe worse, nickname from her that would probably be based on his condition. Like ‘Sugar,’ and, oh God, if Santos ever found out he was dating Michael she would probably start having everyone call him ‘Sugar Baby.’
Dennis groaned, rubbing a hand over his face before he crossed his arms to hide the tremor in his hands. He had to focus, there wasn’t much time.
The Pitt was an extremely fast-paced, active work environment with minimal opportunities to take a break and eat something, so he had to be good at remembering to stay vigilant about his sugars over the course of the unpredictable days. Dennis still sometimes forgot to keep snacks on him, but Michael would always be there, slipping a granola bar or juice box into his pocket when the alert came that his sugar was low. However, Robby had been in meetings all day with Gloria and other hospital department heads about topics way above Dennis’ pay grade, meaning Dennis was on his own to find himself a snack.
So here he was, in front of the vending machine at the end of the dimly lit hall by the breakroom, debating between a Nature Valley bar or a Kind bar to replenish his sugars. Dennis finally settled on the Kind bar, even if it wasn’t his favorite flavor. He grumbled under his breath about the poor snack choices from whoever stocks the vending machine and about how stupid he was to forget his own snack again.
Dennis knew he could go raid Michael’s locker, presumably where his secret snack stash for him was located. He knew the code so it would be easy, but he didn’t want to risk one of the doctors or nurses questioning why he was breaking into Dr. Robby’s locker, that wouldn’t end well for either of them.
He jabbed his finger into the E3 button, listening as the machine groaned before releasing his Kind bar. Dennis slowly squatted down to grab it, not wanting to risk a head rush from bending over. Once the snack was in his grasp he stood back up and walked over to the wall, so he could lean against it as he ate his bounty.
The sound of the wrapper crinkling was loud in the dim hallway as Dennis tore off the corner of the packaging, he was about to take a bite when the PA system crackled on and someone called out, “Incoming Trauma Level 1, ETA 4 minutes, Incoming Trauma Level 1.”
“Fuck” Dennis muttered, knowing he would have to eat quick incase they needed him out there. He shoved the bar in his mouth and took a bite while simultaneously pulling out his phone to check his sugar level. 76 mg/dL, not yet disastrous, but definitely not great.
He was chewing that first bite when McKay poked her head around the corner, “Hey Whitaker! It’s not snack time, suit up and meet me by the ambulance bay.” she said before walking away to get into her own gown, mask, and gloves.
“Fuck.” Dennis swore again. He knew Michael wouldn’t approve, but he didn’t want to hinder anyone else, so he stashed all but the one bite of the Kind bar in his pocket as he made his way to put on his PPE.
Dennis knew he needed food, but that ingrained sense of duty telling him to put his patients first trumped anything else. He kept thinking to himself that it would be fine, McKay would probably only need him for 10 to 15 min before the room became too crowded with specialists coming in to consult on the patient and he could slip out and finish his snack. He’d done this before, he’d be fine. Dennis tried to stamp down this lingering thought that maybe this time it wouldn’t be fine.
He slid into place next to McKay in front of the bay doors, she leaned over with a subtle smirk and whispered in a teasing manner “Nice of you to join us Whitaker, have a nice break?”
Dennis could feel himself blush, not wanting to be known as a slacker. He rubbed the back of his neck and stammered out “Sorry, sorry, I was just –“ he was cut off by the sound of sirens and the doors slamming open as the two paramedics handed off the patient to them.
As they worked on wheeling the patient to the trauma room one of the paramedics started calling out the relevant information, “32-year old male, jet ski versus dock. Found unresponsive in the water, got ROSC after 2 minutes of CPR”
The other paramedic then jumped in, “BP 78 over 48, HR 128, suspected cervical spine injury, decreased breath sounds on the left, and deep lacerations to his torso and both legs.”
Multiple hands reached out to the gurney, including Dennis’, to aid in the transfer of the patient to the hospital bed. Dr. McKay called out an order to intubate the patient as his oxygen stats were dropping and Mel cut through the crowd to comply. McKay called out another order to have someone call Neuro for a consult on the man’s potential spine injury before she made eye contact with Dennis and said, “Whitaker, start assessing and wrapping the injuries on the man’s legs before he bleeds out.”
Dennis was handed a roll of gauze, as he started examining the injuries to determine if they would need to be stitched immediately or if they just needed a pressure wrapping. He felt sweat start to bead on his forehead, even though it was always freezing in the ER. Dennis finished dressing the man’s calf and started on his thigh, when the gauze kept slipping from his fingers. The intensity of his hands’ shaking had increased. He knew he would be unable to assist like that, he needed to call over a nurse or someone else to take over for him.
When Dennis looked up to find somebody, the other symptoms he had pushed to the side in his hyper-focused state hit him like a truck. He was lightheaded with blurred vision, his heart was beating fast, probably too fast, and his lips and tongue felt tingly. He needed sugar and he needed it now.
The distinct sound of three rhythmic chimes repeating over and over was projected throughout the Trauma room. Dr. McKay immediately took note of the warning alarm and called out “Check for a blood sugar monitor, our guy must be hypoglycemic, might be why he’s not waking up.”
Mateo moved closer with a pair of scissors ready to cut the patient’s swim trunks off to see if the monitor was on his upper thigh. Dennis’ voice broke through the chaos, “Sorry, sorry, it’s mine“
Heads turned. The room froze for just a breath.
Dr. McKay’s eyes snapped to his, her brow furrowed, he could tell that she was trying to remain focused on the patient, but now she was worried about him. She must realize that she pulled him away from his snack, prompting the drastic drop in his sugars.
“You? Are you – Dennis, are you hypoglycemic right now?” she said, splitting her attention between the wounds on the patient’s abdomen so that he wouldn’t bleed out, and Dennis.
Dennis opened his mouth to answer, but the words tangled in his throat somewhere between the adrenaline and the embarrassment. He somehow managed to stammer out “Just…low. I’ll-“
“Get out” McKay ordered, her voice was sharp but worried. “Now. Go. Eat something.”
Dennis nodded, the motion making his lightheadedness worse. He was trying to respond but felt like he couldn’t find any words. He knew he had to leave the room to stop distracting everyone in there, but when he took a step back, he felt unsteady, like his legs couldn’t support his weight.
The edges of the room were dimming, while the noise blurred into a tunnel of sound. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but he couldn’t be sure. This was bad, like really bad.
Dennis felt himself start to tip to the side and all thoughts left his brain as he lost consciousness. Gravity took over as his body headed on a course to crash into the floor.
-- -- -- --
The clang of the metal tray and instruments hitting the floor was loud. Mel was still frozen in shock at the situation, but thankfully Mateo, who was standing close to Dennis, was able to slow his fall after Dennis collapsed into the tray, preventing Dennis from suffering from a head injury if he hit the floor full force.
Mel quickly shook herself out of her stupor, Dennis needed her, she had to focus. “IV Dextrose!” she called out, much louder than her usual calm voice, needing someone to run to the storage room to grab it. She made it to Dennis’ side in seconds, kneeled beside him, and aided Mateo in searching for Whitaker’s glucose monitor, since it wasn’t attached to the back of his bicep.
Mateo lifted Dennis’ scrub top and they found it attached right above the waistline of his pants, along with his insulin pump. “Where’s his phone? It should display the readings.” Mel asked, already shoving her hand into one of Dennis’ pockets, Mateo reached his hand in the other and came out with the opened granola bar and Dennis phone. He switched it on, and right there on the home screen read ‘42 mg/dL.’
“Shit” Mateo said.
Jesse then ran back into the room with the bag of IV Dextrose, followed closely by Langdon, who came to help after hearing the commotion. Mel efficiently inserted the IV into Dennis’ arm and started administering the Dextrose. Langdon held the bag up, since they were on the floor and not near an IV pole, squeezing the bag to make it flow faster.
They all held their breath, waiting for any sign that Dennis was waking up, worried that he could have fallen into a coma from how low his sugar had gotten. Mel muttered under her breath, “Come on Dennis, stay with me.” Her hands didn’t shake often, but right now they were. She looked to Langdon, needing reassurance that her friend would be okay, but she just saw a reflection of her own worry on his face.
She looked back down. Dennis' skin was starting to regain its color, a faint pink hue, that was a good sign. Then his eyelids fluttered, and he let out a soft groan, Mel heard herself and the others all take a sigh of relief, Dennis should be okay.
“Alright, let’s get him up and into a bed, and get out of the way for the jet-ski victim.” Langdon said as Jesse wheeled over a gurney for Dennis.
Mel looked over her shoulder startled at Dr. McKay and the other team working on the injured man. In her haze of making sure Dennis would be okay she completely forgot about the trauma case being handled behind them. She met Dr. McKay’s eyes and gave a quick nod that McKay returned before they both went back to their respective patients. Mel doesn’t know how Dr. McKay was able to stay focused on the jet-ski incident when one of their own had fallen.
Mateo and Jesse lifted Dennis into the bed, while Langdon hung the bag of Dextrose from the IV pole.
“Come on, we need to get him hooked up to the monitors.” said Mel as they all began to push Dennis out of the room. He hadn’t yet regained full consciousness, but hopefully it would happen soon.
As they exited the room, all the staff’s eyes turned to them. Word spread fast that one of the med students collapsed, and they were all anxious to see if he was okay. Trinity came running over to Mel, panting and with her eyes filled with worry, “Is he okay? What happened?”
Mel took her hands off the gurney, letting Mateo, Langon, and Jesse guide Dennis the rest of the way to the empty room, so she could stay back and explain what happened. She stepped off to the side, beckoning Trinity to follow her, when Mel noticed that Dana was also approaching, a similar look of concern in her eyes.
Mel waited a moment for Dana to reach her and Trinity before she said, “He’ll be okay, he went hypoglycemic, but he’ll be okay we got to him fast.” Mel took note that Trinity looked somewhat relieved by the news that Dennis would be okay, but she also looked startled that Dennis apparently had diabetes. Dana never lost the worry on her face, her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips thinly pressed together. Mel was about to ask if she was okay, but Dana softly stated “Fuck, Robby is going to be down here any minute.”
“Why?” Santos said confusedly, she crossed her arms, “Isn’t he in an important meeting? And how would he know about it? It literally just happened.”
Dana rubbed the top of her head and sighed, “His phone’s connected to Dennis’s glucose monitor, like Hell he won’t come running down here in a panic.”
Mel had questions. And Trinity did too if her open mouth was any sign, but before either of them could ask for more clarification, Dana was already off, making her way to the elevator, probably to intercept Dr. Robby. She looked over at Trinity, without saying a word, they both knew this was about to become very interesting.
-- -- -- --
Across the hospital, Robby sat stiffly in a meeting with the other department heads, they had been talking in circles for hours. Robby was repeating his point for the third time when his phone resting on the conference table started to vibrate. A few of the doctors gave him a dirty look at the interruption, but Robby ignored them as he stopped talking and picked up his phone to check the notification.
‘CRITICAL ALERT: Dennis – 42 mg/dL’
For a second it felt like everything stopped. The other department heads had continued the conversation around him, unaware of the way his pulse spiked, his hands suddenly cold.
Then he was on his feet.
“Dr. Robinavitch,” the hospital Director called out, “Is something-“
“Emergency,” Robby said, already halfway to the door, paying no mind to the other people in the room, he needed to get to Dennis.
Robby didn’t remember any of the elevator ride, only the sprint through the corridors, the way his ID badge slapped against his chest, and the fear that kept building inside him. He’d seen Dennis push himself hard before, but this – this is exactly what Dennis promised wouldn’t happen.
He didn’t wait for the elevator doors to open fully, rather he slid through them as soon as he could squeeze through. Robby didn’t even see Dana, almost ran her over as she stopped him in his tracks. She raised both her hands, the universal sign for ‘calm down and breathe’.
“He’s okay, Dennis is okay.” She said quickly, needing Robby to not dive off the deep end, “They got to him right away and supplied IV dextrose, he’s already regaining consciousness, and you know that he’ll want you” she finished with a gentle smile, trying to further reassure Robby that Dennis would be fine.
Robby’s chest heaved as he tried to swallow the relief and panic at the same time. “Where is he?”
“Room 3” Dana stepped to the side and Robby rushed past her, anxious to see Dennis with his own eyes. Logically he knew Dana wouldn’t lie to him, especially about Dennis, but he couldn’t relax until he could verify himself. As he strode toward the room, he just barely remembered to turn over his shoulder and call out “Thank you.”
He felt numerous eyes watching him speed walk to the door of Room 3, he paid them no mind as he pushed open the door before closing it quickly behind him. Dennis lay on the gurney, paler than usual, but he was awake, staring at the ceiling tiles like he was worried they might scold him. He was hooked up to an IV and a cup of apple juice and a half eaten granola bar sat on the tray beside him.
Dennis didn’t seem to notice Robby at first, probably lost in his own mind, regretting the choices that led him to this moment. Robby knew that Dennis would need comfort after what happened, hell, Robby also needed to be comforted, however he needed to get his lecture out of the way first.
Now that he knew Dennis was conscious, Robby moved to stand at the end of Dennis’ bed with his hands on his hips and replaced the concern on his face with a look of fury, mixed with something softer that he could never hide when looking at his lover.
“Michael” Dennis whispered before giving a slight wince, “You got the alert, huh?”
“Got the alert?” Robby repeated, voice breaking on a laugh that didn’t have any trace of humor in it, “Dennis, I think I might’ve nearly broken the damn elevator getting down here.”
“I was -” Dennis hesitated, looking down at his hands where he was currently twisting his fingers, “I was just trying to finish the trauma call. McKay needed-”
Robby cut him off, “I don’t give a fuck what McKay -” he stopped himself, knowing that wasn’t the right argument to make right now. He took a deep breath and softened his tone “You needed sugar Dennis”
“I know”
“You told me you had snacks covered for today”
“I did!” Dennis exclaimed, pointed weekly at the granola bar sitting on his tray, “McKay called right as I was about to eat.”
Robby rubbed a hand over the back of his neck while his other hand gripped on the rail at the end of Dennis’ bed, “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pushing yourself this hard. You won’t be saving anyone if you are the one passed out on the floor.”
Dennis looked away, guilt clear as day all over his face, “I’m sorry, did, uh, did everyone see?”
“Yeah,” Robby said quietly, “Pretty sure the whole day shift knows, and it won’t be long before the night shift does too.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then Robby moved closer, his voice gentler, “You scared me, you know that?”
Dennis managed a small smile, “M’sorry, didn’t mean too.”
“I know” Robby sat on the side of the bed, reached out, brushed a small strand of hair off of Dennis’ forehead, and let his hand linger on the side of his face. “Next time, you eat first. Trauma can wait 60 seconds”
Dennis’ throat tightened, “Yes, sir” he murmured with mock obedience, though his voice was too soft to carry the joke fully.
Robby huffed a laugh, but his eyes were still tight around the edges, “Don’t ‘sir’ me. You’re not getting out of this with charm.”
“Didn’t think I was.”
-- -- -- --
Outside of the room, McKay and Trinity were walking side by side. The jet-ski victim has been brought upstairs to an OR, and Trinity had gone to find McKay right after she handed off the patient to try and find out more about what happened to Dennis. It was mostly because she was worried about him, but she was also too curious for her own good. Unfortunately, McKay didn’t really have any more information than what Trinity already knew, unless she counted the overwhelming sense of guilt she now knew McKay was carrying about the situation.
“I can’t believe he’s diabetic,” McKay said softly. “I can’t believe he didn’t share that.”
Trinity nodded in agreement. She and Dennis hadn’t known each other long, but they bonded quickly as friends, in a way that was only possible in a high-stress, life-or-death environment. Trinity didn’t know what else to say, hoping that her silence would be enough to prompt McKay to keep talking, maybe reveal what had her feeling so guilty. It had to be more than Dennis simply passing out while helping her with a patient.
McKay’s voice cracked a little as she continued “I called him away while he was eating. I could’ve -”
“You didn’t know,” Trinity interrupted, not wanting McKay to spiral. “He didn’t tell anyone. Probably didn’t want the attention, and besides, he’s nearly a doctor, Dennis knew the risks and chose to do it anyway”
McKay sighed. It was quiet between them again for a few moments before McKay said “Robby sure knew.”
Trinity chuckled under her breath, “Yeah, he sure sprinted down here fast. I’ve never seen him move like that. You think he’d panic like that for any of us?”
McKay smiled, faintly teasing, probably appreciating that Trinity was guiding the conversation to a lighter topic, “Maybe, but we all know that Dennis is his favorite.”
“Favorite, huh?” Trinity raised an eyebrow, “Sure feels like a little more than that.”
McKay was about to reply when they reached Dennis’ door and both stopped short, too stunned to speak.
Through the small window, they saw Robby sitting on the edge of the bed, murmuring something too quiet to hear. Dennis laughed weakly, then said something back. Robby leaned in, one hand on Dennis’s cheek, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Robby then pulled back and rested his forehead against Dennis’. They stayed there, breathing in the same air, both utterly consumed with each other.
Trinity blinked twice, “Oh,” she whispered.
Dennis tilted his head up and kissed Robby again, this time deeper than the first. Trinity could've sworn she saw tongue.
McKay’s jaw dropped, “Oh my God.”
Inside the room, Dennis caught sight of their presence through the glass mid-kiss and froze. “Uh,” he mumbled against Robby’s lips, which were still trying to kiss him, “we’ve got an audience.”
Robby turned slightly, saw the two faces in the window, and groaned softly, dropping his head to rest on Dennis’s shoulder. “Of course we do.”
McKay pushed open the door, hands raised like a referee. “Wow, okay, so this explains a few things.”
Dennis blushed scarlet. “McKay -”
“No, no, no, don’t even,” she said, half-laughing, half-incredulous. “You nearly passed out and are starting a hospital scandal all in one day. You really must be going for Employee of the Month.” She paused for a breath, letting out another laugh, “Well, I mean you are sleeping with the boss, so I’m sure you were already a shoo-in”
Robby pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cassie -”
Trinity stepped out from behind McKay, with a wide grin on her face, the tension of the day had melted into amused disbelief. “Secret relationship, huh? The Pitt’s betting pool is going to explode.”
“Please don’t start a betting pool,” Dennis muttered, covering his mouth with his palm as he couldn’t believe this was happening right now.
“Too late,” Trinity said smugly, “There already was one, Dr. Robby can’t manhandle you that much during shifts without there being some talk.”
Dennis groaned, sinking back into his pillow. “I’m transferring.”
Robby leaned over him again, placing a kiss to the top of his head and lowering his voice just for Dennis. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Trinity exchanged a knowing look with McKay while they slipped quietly out of the room. McKay with a smirk, Trinity with a soft smile.
“Guess it wasn’t just a glucose alert that made him sprint,” Trinity murmured.
“Nope,” McKay said, popping the letter ‘p’, “Love makes for one hell of a motivator. Now who put the hundred on the relationship reveal via medical emergency.”
-- -- -- --
Back in the quiet of the room, Dennis finally exhaled. The IV hissed softly beside him, the glucose drip had finished, but they were still pushing fluids to keep him hydrated.
“You okay?” Robby asked, voice gentler now.
“Yeah,” Dennis said. “Just really, really embarrassed about passing out, and now everyone will know about us, neither McKay nor Trinity can keep their mouth shut.”
“Don’t be. You scared people when you collapsed, sure, but you reminded everyone that doctors are humans too. We forget that sometimes.”
Dennis’s eyes softened. “You were really that worried, huh?”
Robby met his gaze with an intensity hard to describe, “When that alert hit my phone? Yeah. I thought-” He stopped and shook his head. “I thought I was about to lose you.”
Dennis reached out, fingers brushing the side of Michael’s face. “You won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A pause. Then Dennis added, a hint of humor creeping back in: “But maybe we should start stocking the rooms with those little tubes of frosting I like. You know, just in case I’ll need another quick dose of sugar.”
Robby laughed, a real laugh this time, and pressed a kiss to Dennis’s forehead “Deal. And as for your other concern, I couldn’t be happier that everyone will finally know you’re mine”
He had a smug look on his face, and Dennis’ face got redder, Michael’s possessive side always turned him on. “If you are so happy about it, then you can file all the paperwork with Gloria that will be needed for me to keep being yours.” Dennis said with a cheeky grin.
Michael leaned down to kiss him, “Deal.” He murmured against Dennis’ lips.
-- -- -- --