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The emergency lighting in the elevator cast a sickly glow, doing absolutely nothing to make the last hour of their wasted time feel any shorter. The silence was a physical weight, broken only by the occasional groan of the elevator and by their own loud breathing.
Frank was slumped against the steel wall opposite the door, his legs stretched out before him. His posture was rigid, hard-worn even. His eyes were closed, but Dennis knew he wasn’t asleep.
Dennis, for his part, was the same. His back was straight against the wall to the left of Langdon, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He’d been staring at a specific, slightly rusted panel on the ceiling for the past fifteen minutes. Anything to keep his gaze from drifting. Anything to keep it from landing on Frank, because over the past year and a bit, since the divorce from Abby had finally been finalized, since the 6-month rehab journey that seemed to strip him down to his foundation before letting him rebuild, Frank Langdon had transformed.
It wasn’t just the sobriety, though that clarity burned in the bags under his eyes now. It was the way he’d filled out. The sharp, hollowed edges of his face had softened, now with an almost perpetual five-o’clock shadow. The lean frame Dennis remembered from their first shift together, all those months ago, had been replaced by something more substantial. The black scrub top pulled across a set of shoulders that seemed to have expanded and stretched taut over a chest that was… Dennis swallowed, his eyes flicking down for a nanosecond before snapping back to the panel.
It was a dad bod. That was the term. A devilish dad bod. The kind that suggested strength and comfort in equal measure, a man who could anchor you in a storm and make you feel safe while doing it. The sight of it made something tighten in Dennis’s pants. It was swoon-worthy. It was infuriating. And he’d been doing everything in his power for the last hour to not get caught looking.
A shift of fabric. The soft sigh of a man who had all the time in the world. Dennis’s jaw clenched. Don’t look. Don’t you dare look.
He looked.
Frank’s eyes were open now, and they were fixed directly on him. Not with the weary annoyance of a colleague stuck in a bad situation, but with deep intensity. How long had he been staring? A minute? Five? Dennis felt a hot flush creep up his neck.
He couldn’t help himself. The sass was a defense mechanism that he had learned from living with Trinity. “What?” he demanded, his voice coming out higher and more clipped than he intended. “What are you looking at?”
Frank’s head tilted slightly, a slow, deliberate movement. A faint, knowing smirk played at the corner of his lips, the same smirk that had once been a weapon of sarcasm back before he had gone to rehab. He didn’t answer, just letting the question hang in the stagnant elevator air.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Frank finally said, his voice a low rumble. “Or, more accurately, I could ask you what you’ve been so determined not to look at me for the past hour.”
Dennis’s arms tightened over his chest. “I’m just not in the mood to talk, Frank. It’s been a long shift, and now I’m trapped in an elevator with my… with my colleague. I’d rather just sit in silence until maintenance remembers that we exist.”
“Sure,” Frank scoffed. He unfolded his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The movement was fluid, easy, drawing Dennis’s unwilling eye to the way his biceps filled out the scrub sleeves. “That’s what this is. You just ‘don’t want to talk.’” He air-quoted with a lazy hand. “Nothing to do with something else entirely?”
The flush that had been creeping up Dennis’s neck exploded across his cheeks. His gaze, which had been desperately trying to fix on Frank’s shoulder, was snagged by his face. The filled-out face, the strong jaw, the amused glint in his eyes. A tidal wave of heat washed over him.
“N-no,” Dennis stuttered, the single syllable cracking. He sounded about as convincing as a patient claiming they’d only had one glass of wine.
Frank’s smirk widened, deepening the lines around his mouth. He leaned back, settling against the wall with the ease of a man who’d just found the answer to a puzzle. He let the silence reign again, letting Dennis’s embarrassment fester in the most delicious way.
“So,” Frank drawled, his tone conversational, as if they were discussing a chart. “I was thinking. Over the past few weeks, Princess and Perlah have been… unusually chatty. Making bets. Whispering when I walk by. The other day, Perlah very helpfully informed me that I should be careful, because a certain someone had apparently developed a serious thing for…” He paused, letting the anticipation build. His eyes never left Dennis’s face. “‘Dr. Daddy.’”
Dennis’s mouth went dry. He felt caught and betrayed that Trinity had gone around speaking about his drunken confession that he had made last week. Cornered, utterly exposed in the harsh glow of the elevator’s light. His mind raced for a flat-out denial, a sarcastic quip that could deflect and reset the conversation to a safer, more professional ground.
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out except a strangled, pathetic noise.
He took a really deep breath, the kind that felt like it was scraping the bottom of his lungs. The confession clawed its way out, raw and unfiltered.
“Fine!” he spat, the word a surrender. “Yes. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?” He finally let his eyes meet Frank’s, a desperate, defiant glint in them. “I’ve spent the last few months watching you come back from rehab, truly a changed man. Not just sober, Frank. Whole. You’re the man you were always supposed to be, and I…” He gestured helplessly with one hand. “I really grew to love that man. Love this man.”
He saw Frank’s expression shift, the smug amusement giving way to something deeper, more focused.
Dennis barreled on, the momentum of his confession carrying him past any remaining filter that he tried to compose. A new, reckless confidence sparked in him. “And the way you’ve filled out?” He let his gaze drop deliberately, traveling slowly from Frank’s broad shoulders, down his solid chest, to the comfortable weight of his torso, before snapping back up to meet Frank’s eyes. He let a smirk of his own, sharp and challenging, curl his lips. “It’s made me wilder than ever.”
He leaned back, mimicking Frank’s earlier posture of confidence, though his heart was hammering against his ribs. “So, yeah, Dr. Daddy,” he said, the nickname falling from his lips. “I’m really into it. Happy now?”
The silence that followed was electric, charged with a different kind of tension. Frank’s expression was one of confident smugness, but it was softer now, undercut by a romantic warmth that fired in his eyes. He let out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating in the small space.
“Happy?” Frank repeated, slowly unfolding himself from the wall. He didn’t stand, but he shifted closer, his knee almost brushing Dennis’s leg. The air between them grew thick. “No,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a register that made Dennis’s stomach flip. He reached out, one large, warm hand coming to rest on Dennis’s knee. The touch was solid, grounding, and utterly devastating. “I’m not happy, Dennis.”
He leaned in, his face now close enough that Dennis could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. The smirk remained, but his eyes burned with something far more than amusement.
“I’m just getting started.” The air in the elevator had transformed. What was once thick with strained silence was now charged with a current so potent Dennis could feel it humming under his skin. Frank’s hand was still on his knee, a warm, solid weight that seemed to anchor him even as his entire world tilted on its axis.
And then Frank leaned in.
The kiss was not what Dennis expected. He’d braced himself for something hungry, demanding, the kind of kiss that matched the confidence in Frank’s posture. Instead, Frank’s lips met his with a deliberate slowness, a testing of waters, as if he wanted to savor the first taste. It was firm but patient.
Dennis’s heart didn’t just flutter. It launched itself against his ribs like a trapped bird, a wild, frantic rhythm that he was certain Frank could feel through the hand that now slid up to cup his jaw. The initial shock lasted only a fraction of a second before something primal took over.
His hands, which had been frozen at his sides, came alive. They moved with desperate greed, one palm slapping flat against Frank’s chest, feeling the solid, forgiving give of muscle beneath a comfortable layer of softness. The other hand fisted in the fabric of Frank’s scrub top, pulling him closer, closer, closer. His fingers traced the broad line of Frank’s shoulder, clawed gently at the back of his neck, and slid down to grip his bicep. Every inch he could reach, he touched, as if needing to map and memorize this new terrain all at once.
He poured himself into the kiss, matching Frank’s pace, then pushing it, his lips parting, a small, desperate sound escaping his throat.
When they finally broke apart, both men were breathing harder. Dennis’s forehead rested against Frank’s for a moment, their breath mingling in the small space between them. A slow, smug smile spread across Dennis’s flushed face.
“Well,” he said sassily, “I didn’t know Dr. Daddy felt the same way about me. At all.”
Frank let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Dennis’s palm, which was still pressed flat against it. His hand came up, fingers threading through the soft, curled hair at the back of Dennis’s neck, stroking the edge of his mullet with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the intensity in his eyes.
“Dennis,” Frank said, his voice a low drawl, “I’ve been eye-fucking you every chance I got for the past four months. I’m pretty sure Dana was about to schedule an intervention for me. You bending over a gurney? Walking down the hall with that swagger? I was a dead man.” He paused, his thumb tracing the shell of Dennis’s ear. A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features, so brief Dennis almost missed it. “That kiss… was that okay?”
Dennis’s heart, which had been racing at a million miles an hour, seemed to swell to twice its size. He beamed, a genuine, unguarded, radiant smile that transformed his entire face.
“Okay?” he repeated, the word almost a laugh. “Frank, that was more than okay.”
He didn’t give Frank a chance to respond. He launched himself back into the kiss with renewed fervor, his hands immediately resuming their exploration. One palm pressed flat against Frank’s stomach, fingers splaying wide to feel the soft, solid warmth beneath the scrub top. He let out a small, satisfied hum against Frank’s mouth as his hand traveled upward, over the comfortable curve of his torso, up to the broad expanse of his chest. He fondled the dad bod with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things, his fingers kneading, stroking, learning every contour.
In a sudden, fluid movement, Dennis swung a leg over, settling himself squarely onto Frank’s lap. The position brought them chest to chest, eye to eye, and Dennis felt a shiver run down his spine at the intimate proximity. His hands came to rest on Frank’s shoulders, thumbs brushing the corded muscle of his neck.
“Is it okay if I just…” Dennis started, his earlier bravado softening into something more vulnerable. “If I rest on top of you? The metal is killing my back, and I’d much rather be lying here. If that’s okay.”
Frank’s answer was to shift his hips, settling more comfortably against the wall, his hands coming up to embrace Dennis’s waist. His fingers began a slow, gentle exploration of Dennis’s scalp, light scratches that started at his hairline and dragged back through the short strands, over the longer mullet, repeating the motion with a rhythmic, soothing consistency.
“You can rest here as long as you want,” Frank murmured, his voice a low rumble against Dennis’s chest. “Better than that damn elevator wall. I’ve got you.”
Dennis let out a long, slow exhale, the tension of the past hour, of the past few months, finally melting out of his shoulders. He let his weight settle onto Frank, his head dropping to rest against Frank’s chest, his nose brushing the warm skin of his neck. The hand in his hair intoxicating, each scratch sending pleasant tingles down his spine.
A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by their steady breathing. Dennis’s fingers traced idle patterns on Frank’s chest, following the line of his collarbone.
“Hey,” Dennis said after a long moment, his voice muffled against Frank’s neck. “Question. Was the… all of this…” he gestured vaguely with one hand at Frank’s torso, “intentional? The weight gain?”
Frank laughed, a genuine, easy sound that made Dennis smile against his skin. “Intentional?” he repeated. “No. I wish I could claim some kind of master plan. I just… I stopped having enough hours in the day for the gym. And somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t really miss it.” His hand never stopped its gentle scratching in Dennis’s hair. “I like this version of me. The dad bod look, as the nurses so lovingly call it. It feels like I’ve become someone new. Someone I actually want to be.”
Dennis lifted his head, propping his chin on Frank’s chest to look up at him. His expression was soft, open, utterly devoid of the sharp edges he usually wielded like armor.
“Well,” he said, his voice quiet but certain, “for the record, I think you’re a much hotter man regardless. The old Frank, new Frank, dad bod Frank, scrawny Frank… you’re just…” He paused, searching for the word. “More. You look more like yourself now. And that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He leaned up and captured Frank’s lips again, softer this time. When he pulled back, he settled back down against Frank’s chest, tucking his head under his chin.
“But the dad bod,” Dennis added, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “is definitely a bonus.”
Frank’s laugh rumbled through him, and his arms tightened around Dennis, pulling him closer. His hand found its way back to Dennis’s hair, resuming the gentle scratches that had Dennis’s eyes fluttering closed.
“Good to know,” Frank murmured against the top of his head. “I’ll make sure to keep it, then.”
The elevator groaned around them, the emergency light flickering once, twice. Somewhere in the hospital, someone was probably finally realizing two of their residents were missing. But in that moment, wrapped up in each other, neither man cared.
They had time.
Time moved differently in the stalled elevator. Without windows or the usual markers of time, the minutes bled into one another, measured only by the rhythm of their breathing and the occasional squeeze of a hand or nuzzle of a nose against warm skin.
Dennis had long since stopped trying to maintain any semblance of composure. He was draped across Frank like a satisfied cat, his head pillowed on Frank’s chest, one hand tucked beneath Frank’s scrub top to rest against the soft skin of his stomach. His fingers moved in lazy, unconscious patterns.
Frank’s hand had found its way back to Dennis’s hair, the scratches having given way to gentle, rhythmic strokes. His other arm was wrapped securely around Dennis’s waist, his thumb rubbing small circles against the jut of his hipbone through the thin fabric of his scrubs.
“You know what I like most?” Dennis murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness, the words slurring slightly at the edges.
“What’s that?” Frank’s voice was a low rumble beneath his ear, a vibration Dennis could feel all the way down to his toes.
“Your hands,” Dennis said, lifting one of his own to intertwine their fingers. He brought Frank’s hand up to his face, examining it with the focus of someone fighting off sleep. “They’re ridiculous. You’ve got these big, stupid hands, but you use them like…” He paused, searching for the word. “Like they’re made for putting things back together. Patients. Me. Everything.”
Frank’s fingers curled around Dennis’s, squeezing gently. “That’s very poetic for someone who’s about to drool on my shirt.”
“I don’t drool,” Dennis mumbled, though he was already burrowing his face deeper into Frank’s chest. “Your chest is just… comfortable. That’s what I like too. This.” He patted the soft expanse of Frank’s stomach. “You’re like a really expensive mattress. One that I want to have sex with.”
Frank let out a snort of laughter, the sound jostling Dennis slightly. “A mattress you want to have sex with. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me in an elevator.”
“I mean it, though,” Dennis said, tilting his head up just enough to peer at Frank through half-lidded eyes. “The old you was all angled. Sharp. Like you were bracing for impact all the time. But now?” His hand flattened against Frank’s stomach, palm warm against the skin. “Now you’re solid. Real. Like you finally settled into your own skin.”
Something flickered in Frank’s eyes, something raw and unguarded that he usually kept locked away. His hand tightened on Dennis’s waist.
“What about you?” Frank asked, his voice rougher than before. “What do you think your best feature is?”
Dennis snorted. “My devastating good looks and sparkling personality, obviously.”
“I’m serious.”
There was a long pause. Dennis’s fingers stilled their tracing, and when he spoke again, his voice was smaller, stripped of its usual armor.
“My hands too, I guess,” he finally said. “I know I screw up a lot. Say the wrong thing at the wrong time by mistake, and make it awkward enough that people step away. But my hands…” He flexed his fingers against Frank’s stomach. “They know what they’re doing. They help. They fix. They’re the part of me that’s actually good at being gentle when it counts.”
Frank caught Dennis’s hand again, pressing a kiss to the palm with a tenderness that made Dennis’s breath catch. “They’re good hands,” Frank said against his skin. “You’re good with them. I’ve seen it while watching you.”
“You’ve been watching me use them?” Dennis’s voice had regained some of its teasing edge, but it was soft, wonder-struck.
“Told you. Eye-fucking you every chance I got.” Frank’s smirk was visible even in the dim light. “My best feature is probably my restraint. Took me this long to actually do something about it.”
Dennis laughed, a quiet, breathless sound. “Your best feature is actually your jaw,” he corrected, reaching up to trace the strong line of it. “And your shoulders. And your chest. And your… actually, can I just say everything? Everything is your best feature. I’m very into everything.”
“You’re very into everything,” Frank repeated, amused.
“I’m very into you,” Dennis clarified, his voice dropping to something earnest and serious. “Everything is just a bonus. A very, very nice bonus that I plan to explore extensively when we’re not trapped in a broken elevator.”
“Promises, promises.”
They fell silent again, the drowsiness creeping back in. Dennis’s eyes were growing heavier with each slow blink, the warmth of Frank’s body a seductive pull toward sleep. Frank’s hand had resumed its stroking through his hair, and Dennis felt himself sinking, weightless, into the sensation.
“Frank?” Dennis whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Hmm?”
“Your laugh. That’s my favorite.” He was already half gone, the words tumbling out unfiltered. “It sounds like… like everything’s finally okay. Like you finally get to be happy. And I want to be the one who makes you laugh like that. All the time.”
Frank didn’t respond with words. He just pressed his lips to the top of Dennis’s head and held him tighter, his arms a warm, secure cage around the smaller man. His hand continued its gentle stroking, a steady rhythm that matched the slowing beat of Dennis’s heart.
Within minutes, Dennis’s breathing had evened out, his body going limp and heavy against Frank’s chest. Frank stayed awake a few moments longer, watching the rise and fall of Dennis’s shoulders, the way his face had softened completely in sleep, all the tiredness washing away.
He looked young like this. Unburdened. Frank pressed another kiss to his hair and let his own eyes finally close, the exhaustion of the shift and the emotional whiplash of the past hour pulling him under.
The emergency light flickered once, twice, and then steadied as auxiliary power finally rerouted somewhere in the bowels of the hospital. Neither man stirred.
The sound came from very far away at first, a dull pounding that filtered through the thick layers of sleep wrapped around Dennis’s brain. Then it got louder. More insistent. Accompanied by a voice that cut through the haze like a scalpel.
“HELLO? WAKEY WAKEY? ANYBODY HOME?”
Dennis’s eyes flew open. For a disorienting moment, he had no idea where he was, the ceiling was wrong, the panel had blended in with the light filtering in from the open doors, and there was a very large, very warm body pressed against him that definitely wasn’t his pillow. Then the events of the past hour crashed back into him, and he jerked upright so fast he nearly headbutted Frank, who was also coming awake with a startled grunt.
“Wha-” Frank started, blinking groggily.
The elevator doors were open.
Not just open, wide open, revealing the familiar chaos of the ER floor beyond. And standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, was Dr. Jack Abbott. Behind him, Dennis could see Joy, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
“Dr. Abbott,” Dennis squeaked, his voice cracking in a way it hadn’t since high school. He scrambled off Frank’s lap so fast he nearly went sprawling, only to be caught by Frank’s steadying hand on his arm. “We…. the elevator was stuck! there was a small blackout!!! we couldn’t…”
Frank, to his credit, was faring only slightly better. He had pushed himself upright, running a hand through his disastrously rumpled hair, but there was a flush creeping up his neck that betrayed his composure. “Jack. We were trapped for…”
“Five hours,” Dr. Abbott interrupted, his face a carefully constructed mask of professional neutrality that was absolutely belied by the twitching at the corner of his mouth. “The energy blackout knocked out the elevators for about ninety minutes. Auxiliary power came back on two hours ago.” He let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “Two. Hours. Ago. But hey, glad Dr. Kwon here wanted to go to the roof for a moment.”
Behind him, Joy made a sound that was somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper.
“We didn’t hear…” Dennis started, then stopped, the realization dawning on him. They had been so wrapped up in each other, so deeply asleep, that they hadn’t heard the elevator start moving. Hadn’t heard the doors open. Hadn’t heard anything, apparently, until Jack Abbott had come looking for them.
Dr. Abbott’s expression cracked slightly, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through. “Your shift ended three hours ago,” he said, and there was something almost kind in his voice beneath the teasing. “I was about to send out a search party. Figured you’d both gotten trapped somewhere.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Abbott,” Dennis said, his face now approximately the color of a fire engine. He was on his feet now, smoothing down his scrubs, attempting to restore some semblance of professionalism. “This is… we didn’t mean to! It won’t happen again!”
Jack held up a hand, cutting off the stream of apologies. “Dennis. Frank.” He looked between them, and for a moment, the department head melted away, replaced by something more human. “Go home. Both of you. That’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. You’ve been here since six this morning. It’s now almost ten at night.”
He paused, clearly attempting to craft a joke and, by the look on his face, realizing he was about to fail at it. The attempt came out stilted, almost reluctant, as if he was forcing the words through gritted teeth.
“Maybe,” Jack said, his voice painfully awkward, “you should both just go to Frank’s house. To… continue whatever this was.” He gestured vaguely at the elevator, at the two of them, at the whole situation. “Since you seem to have already started.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Dennis’s face went from red to a shade of crimson that frankly seemed medically concerning. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, any witty retort he might have summoned utterly abandoned in the face of his boss, his fucking boss, telling him to go home and hook up with his colleague.
Frank, however, had recovered. The flush on his neck had faded, replaced by something else entirely. That slow, confident smirk was back, curling his lips as he rose to his feet with an unhurried grace that made Dennis’s heart do a little flip even through his mortification.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Frank said, his voice smooth, completely unruffled. He reached out and took Dennis’s hand, lacing their fingers together with a casual possessiveness that made Joy finally lose the battle with her composure. She ducked behind a desk, her laughter echoing off the walls. “Thanks, Jack. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dr. Abbott stared at them for a long moment, his expression a complicated mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Tomorrow is your day off,” he corrected. “I’ll see you Friday. And Frank?”
Frank paused, halfway to pulling Dennis toward the locker rooms.
“Try not to get stuck in any more elevators.”
The smirk widened. “No promises.”
They walked to the locker room in a daze, Dennis’s hand still clasped in Frank’s, their footsteps echoing in the quieter corridors of the night-shift ER. The adrenaline of being caught was finally fading, replaced by a giddy, disbelieving euphoria that had Dennis fighting a grin that threatened to split his face in half.
“I can’t believe that happened,” he said as they pushed through the locker room door. “I can’t believe he said that. Dr. Abbott. Told us to go to your house. To continue…” He broke off, making a strangled noise. “Is this real life?”
Frank released his hand only long enough to open his locker, pulling out his jacket and bag. When he turned back, his expression had softened, the smirk giving way to something warmer, more real.
“It’s real,” he said simply. He stepped closer, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from Dennis’s face, his fingers lingering against his cheek. “Unless you don’t want it to be. If this was just…”
“Don’t,” Dennis interrupted, his hand shooting out to grip Frank’s wrist. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me an out. I’ve been waiting for this… for you… for longer than I’m comfortable admitting. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Frank’s smile was like a sunrise. lighting up every corner of his face. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on it.”
Dennis grinned, bright and unguarded, and stood on his toes to press a quick, fierce kiss to Frank’s mouth. “Then take me home, Dr. Daddy. I believe we have some continuing to do.”
Frank laughed, that laugh Dennis had claimed as his favorite, warm and full and real, and pulled him close, one arm around his waist, his forehead dropping to rest against Dennis’s.
“Home,” he agreed. “Let’s go home.”
They clocked out together, their shift finally ending, and walked out into the cool night air, hands intertwined, the lingering exhaustion of the day giving way to the start of something new.
Behind them, in the ER, Joy was still trying to explain to a bewildered Baran why she had a photo on her phone of her two-day shift residents tangled together in an elevator, and why she was absolutely never, ever deleting it.