Fics like death is nothing at all

Whenever Robby enters the trauma room Dennis is in, he straightens his shoulders and lets his eyes drop to the nylon tiles. He only ever looks up when he is sure the older man is busy inspecting something else, like doctors are supposed to, like their job is to save lives and not stare down their colleagues. Sometimes, Robby catches him in the act, and it sends something straight from his gut to somewhere lower. Usually, they hold that eye contact for a few seconds, not moving or saying anything. He feels like he is on trial, seen and evaluated by something greater than himself. There is no air inflating or deflating his lungs when this happens. It feels like pain, feels like salvation. The momentary bliss of being the sole focus of his God after yearning for it all day. As if his prayers have been heard. Then Robby blinks and looks away, so Dennis can breathe again. Dennis stops Robby from going on his sabbatical. Things get complicated.

Fics like death is nothing at all

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