GoldenBerry

#Hucklerobby When Dennis collapses onto the emergency room floor, he is made to put on a hospital gown and shed his clothes, or at least most of them. Trinity has taped a sign to the door of his room, declaring him a "super special" patient and instructing all staff to disregard his complaints: "If he says he’s fine, don’t believe him." Even Dana has confiscated his clothes until she’s certain he’s alright, but the wait is proving to be incredibly dull. Finally, Robby arrives, wearing a smile, only to point directly at his socks. "So... avocados?" "Trinity gave them to me. I probably shouldn't have put them on this morning." Dennis says, looking embarrassed as he tucks his feet under the blanket. Robby shakes his head, handing him a tablet with his test results. "Well, I think they’re cute," Robby remarks, as Dennis feels his ears turn bright red. Fortunately, the results show that everything is fine. Still, they might need to perform an electrocardiogram; his heart is racing, and Robby can tell just by glancing at the monitor.

#Hucklerabbot Omegaverse! Dennis is experiencing hyper lactation. It’s as if his body has dedicated itself entirely to producing milk for his newborn pup. His chest is already aching, but he detests plastic breast pumps—they just don’t feel right. His omega hates them. Consequently, he has to settle for relieving the pain by nursing his baby... and his alphas. It’s late, and his baby is sleeping peacefully in the nursery—completely oblivious to the rest of the world. Dennis is on the sofa, watching television, while Robby lies against him, nursing from his left nipple. The pressure eases, bringing him a moment of relief, and Dennis feels the stubble of Robby’s beard grazing his skin—it’s impossible not to feel a tickle. On the other side is Jack, latched onto his other nipple, seemingly vying with Robby for his place at the omega’s chest. It doesn’t matter, though; he has more than enough for both of them—and his baby.

#crashberry Dennis somewhat regrets having tried the night shift. Having lived his entire life on a farm, he was a creature of the day; he would never get used to this. Luckily, the shift is fairly quiet, so he decides to step outside for a cigarette. As he lights it, he notices a violet sweater—one that looks all too familiar. Victoria is sitting on a chair outside the ward entrance, her legs pulled tight against her chest. "Everything okay?" he asks, tucking away his lighter and exhaling a cloud of smoke. Victoria quickly wipes her face and lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry," Dennis says, trying to give her some space. "No, it’s fine. It’s just... my mother." Dennis sits down beside her, weighing whether he should say anything. He takes another drag from his cigarette and exhales. "She used to look at me with a certain pride... now, she looks at me as if I have a terminal illness or something. She can’t stand seeing me work in psychiatry." Snow falls slowly onto the sidewalk, beginning to pile up. It is a surprisingly peaceful night, despite the young woman who seems to be filled with regret. "I’m sorry to hear that," Dennis says, dropping a couple of cigarette butts onto the ground. "I know what that’s like." "You do?" "Hey, I have a degree in theology. What more proof do you need?" Dennis laughs. Victoria manages a smile, followed by a stifled laugh, leaving behind the restlessness and sadness she had felt just moments before. "How do you live with it?" she asks, moving a little closer to him. "You just live. They’re the ones who have to live with it." Victoria nods, resting her head against his shoulder. She sighs, joining Dennis as they watch the snow falling over Pittsburgh. A warmth floods her cheeks as she catches the scent of his hair. She needed to know what shampoo he used. "Thanks, Den..."