“Really?” he asked, surprised and yet not.
“Someone in each new rotation,” Steph drawled, glancing at the patient board, chewing the end of her pen cap.
“That’s…”
“…a lot of crushes,” she finished, eyes sparkling with amusement. “The nurses have a whole betting pool on it. Donnelly doesn’t know, or Samuels. Walsh figured it out last year and started betting on it, too, the devil. The nurses were too scared to tell him no.”
Wyatt nearly laughed. He’d only ever met the night doctor, Dr. Walsh, once in passing. He had heard the rumors, though, that he was a bit unhinged, unfiltered. He figured someone would have to be a bit mad to work the night shift in the emergency department.
“Like I said, it’s normal,” Steph said with a shrug. “Donnelly sometimes figures it out, sometimes he doesn’t.”
“What happens when he figures it out?” Wyatt asked, throat tightening.
“They get rotated to the night shift with Walsh, or to a different hospital.” Her eyebrows arched at his expression, which he couldn’t hide unless he covered himself with his hoodie. “Don’t worry, hon. Your secret is safe with me, handsome. Besides, I always thought betting on impressionable young pups was wrong.”
She tapped her flashy red-painted nails on her digital black tablet, letting the phone at her desk ring. “Hey, I forgot to mention, it’s Dr. Williams’s retirement party tomorrow. The whole crew is invited. We’re meeting at the Hot Dog Palace. It’s a place we sometimes go for happy hour—well, more like midnight hour.”
“Dr. Williams?” Wyatt asked.
“Cardiology. Rarely comes by these days, and now even more so with the whole retirement thing. Starts at eight sharp, kid. Bring Reyes, or better yet, bring a date.”
Wyatt studied himself in the mirror for the millionth time before letting out a frustrated sigh. He was going to be late. This was his tenth outfit change before settling on his nicest pair of dark blue denim jeans, his worn but comfortable black cowboy boots (the same ones Donnelly had commented on), a plain white undershirt, and his favorite tanned leather jacket. He even put some of Jin’s fancy hair product in and slicked his hair back a bit. He got a haircut after his shift, trimming the sides and top.
He closed the door to his room, hoping to sneak out before Jin saw him, but halted with his hand on the front door of their apartment when he heard a low, catcalling whistle.
“You can salt and burn my ashes any day, Dean Winchester,” Jin drawled.
Wyatt pivoted on his boot heel, exhaling slowly. Jin had been walking from the kitchen to the living room when he spotted Wyatt in the hallway. He was cradling a large bowl of popcorn, wearing a blue silk kimono, and the sounds of people laughing from the television in the living room told him Jin was having a movie night instead of going out.
“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” Jin asked, almost offended.
“It’s a work thing,” Wyatt said in a rush. “A retirement party.”
“Please tell me it’s Donnelly’s party and you’re his Dean Winchester candygram?”
He snorted out a laugh, “No. Do I really look that generic?”
“Maybe add a bit of flair?”
“Flair…?”
The bar door swung open, and the scent of beer and hot dogs wafted over him. He heard the boisterous laughter and classic rock drifting over the packed bar. The red, green, and yellow glow of last year's Christmas lights adorned the stained-glass windows. The Hot Dog Palace slogan was painted in slanting white block letters, on a forest-green wall above the bar:Fresh beer, booze, and hot dogs! Come and get it!
He smiled, charmed by this oddball place.
“Hey! You made it!”
Wyatt turned and saw Reyes coming at him for a bear hug, holding a beer. Wyatt gave him a one-armed shoulder hug and patted his back before motioning to the bar, needing alcohol to take the edge off. He was nervous as a new pony, and he blamed it entirely on letting Jin convince him to wear his cowboy hat. Normally, he tried to blend in with the LA crowd, especially amongst his peers. But Jin, as always, managed to talk him into questionable things.
“Damn, Lawson, you clean up good. I should introduce you to my sister. She needs to date someone that doesn’t suck,” Reyes teased, taking a long swig of his beer.
“Thanks, but uh,” Wyatt hesitated, and shook his head, deciding he wasn’t about to tell a half-drunk Reyes that he was gay in a public bar, filled with their co-workers. Some other time, he thought and patted his back. “I’m gonna grab a beer, you want another?”
“Damn straight,” Reyes pointed to the back of the bar. “I got a table with Emily and Ava in the back.”
Wyatt hid his cringe. Ava was the last person he wanted to be sharing a table with. She was in her first year of residency and was the biggest gossip in the ED. Ava was the type of person to see a hornet's nest, kick it, film it, and share it with everyone. He despised people like that. Luckily for her, she was a good doctor, and so far her antics on the team had gone unnoticed. But it was only a matter of time before her true colors showed.
Emily was cool, though. He really enjoyed working with her and Reyes.
