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blushweddinggowns · 5 months
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Steddie Drunk Dialing Fluff
Steve Harrington-Munson was probably one of the happiest men to be alive in the modern era. He had the perfect life, against all odds. Because apparently having your late teens and early twenties ruined by demons equated to a fantastic adulthood.
He had it all. A loving family, the best friend/surrogate sister he could ever ask for, and he was married to the love of his life. And okay, yes. That had included some extremely embarrassing revelations and internal meltdowns and... a pretty brutal disownment. But he had figured it all out in the end. And here he was, a decade later with a ring on his finger and a nice hyphenated name. Not to mention how he was basically a trophy husband.
Eddie hadn't wasted a moment of the last decade. A symptom of almost dying it would seem. He went for the GED, gathered the band back up, moved across the country to chase his dreams and play in every shitty dive bar he could until they were discovered. All while dragging Steve along for the ride.
As much as Steve had believed in him, neither of them had been prepared for his music career actually taking off. Especially not to the level it did. It was undeniable that his husband was an A-Lister, despite how universally hated he was by half the country. You don't get many out and proud metal front man who loved parading around his high school sweetheart at every social event he could. But Europe loved him, as did the entirety of gay, rebellious youths world wide.
It was so stupid. There Eddie was, painted as an insane freak who was fake-married. With tabloids running story after story about his secret children, his drug addiction, a wife from another country, anything that they could think of. All while Eddie spent every free moment at Steve's side, always opting for a night in with his baby when given the choice. And when he wasn't doing that, he was busy playing surrogate fun uncle to the kids, who were definitly not kids anymore. But that didn't stop them from all getting together for Dungeons and Dragons once a month, hundreds and hundreds of campaign hours on everyone's belts. And that was his life. Spending time with his family, forcing them on hikes and runs, volunteering, working occasionally to help Robin with her translating work, all while coming home to the sweetest thing that ever existed.
God, did Steve love that man. Reminiscing about the love of his life while he was on tour was not helping his fretful sleep. He just... really had given him everything. He loved him so much in fact that he was only slightly pissed when he was woken up at three a.m. from the phone ringing off the hook.
Steve reached for it blindly, still half-asleep when he mumbled, "Mm-Eds?"
"Steeeeeeeeeevie," Eddie's voice slurred back at him, "Baby booooy. How's my baby boy? I miss my baby boy."
Steve smiled despite himself, yawning into the phone. Eddie was lucky he was so cute, considering how the love of his life who could not remember what time zones were, "He misses you too. And he's a little tired right now babe. What's up?"
"Day drunk," Eddie sighed, "Guys, morning show, mimosas, hotel room to sleep it off. Missing you."
"You won't be missing me for long," Steve softly laughed. Though... hearing his voice was quite the reminder of how cold the bed suddenly felt, "Just... one more week. That's not too long right?"
"Too long!" Eddie groaned, dramatic, "I miss you now. Why can't I see you now? Wait-Can I see you now? Cause planes and trains and-"
"And no," Steve interrupted with a chuckle, "You'd only get me for a few hours before you'd have to leave again."
"Worth it," Eddie mumbled out, his voice a little muffled as he tumbled around in his hotel bed, "Want my baby."
The pathetic tilt to his voice was enough to make Steve's heart clench. God he was too precious. Suddenly a red-eye in the middle of the night for a two hour make-out session didn't sound like such a bad idea. But he could be the strong one for tonight, "You have me sweetheart. Want me to stay on until you fall asleep."
"Yes please," Eddie sighed, "Love your voice. It's so... nice. Like... audible perfume. Like poetry or something."
"Oh baby you are wasted," Steve said as he laid back down, nestling the phone to his ear, "Please tell me you drank some water before laying down?"
"... maybe?"
"Babe."
"I knoooow. Keep nagging me though. I missed that too."
"Is my bitching your bed time story?"
He could hear Eddie nodding, rusting against the fabric, "And it's the best. Keep going?"
Steve rolled his eyes, but he did what he was asked. Saying every silly little grievance he could think of. He whined about how cold it was in bed without him, how Eddie had promised to take out the trash before he left and forgot. Again. How he hated how quiet it was without him, how much he missed hearing his voice trailing in and out of every room.
And Eddie listened, mumbling out a few sleepy m'sorrys and I love yous along the way. Until all Steve could hear was the slow, steady sound of his breathing. But he didn't hang up. Not when that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. And the perfect thing to fall asleep to.
Steve smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, a little amazed that Eddie could still make him feel so loved, from hundreds of miles away.
But one thing was for sure. He still had to be the happiest man on earth.
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moonstruckme · 4 months
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Poly!EMT!Marauders x reader where they are in an established relationship and she gets really hurt… I’m a slut for hurt/comfort and protective bfs
Thanks for requesting!
cw: bike accident, injuries, concussion
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words
You don’t remember getting out your phone, but Remus answers on the second ring. 
“Hello?”
“I…um…”
The woman who’d stopped to help eases the phone out of your grasp, putting it to her ear. “Hello?” 
She starts to fill Remus in on what’s happened. A car moved into the bike lane, probably by mistake. They didn’t see you. You’d panicked, throwing yourself away from it and out of the road. You’d hit the ground hard. The car had kept going. You’re not sure you can move. 
Your body, the entire left side, is in agony, stinging and burning and throbbing all at once. The ground is cold, seeping through your clothes. Your head is warm, though. Fuzzy. 
“Dove?” There’s an insistent tapping at your cheek. “Dove, come on, lovely.” 
Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. Something pushes against a sore spot on your head, and a whine escapes you. 
“There you go, just open your eyes.” Remus’ face is in front of yours, his eyes flitting between your eyes and something else. “Good job. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?” 
You make a sound somewhere between a hum and a moan. 
“Do you know where you are?” 
You squint up at him. The sun filters through your boyfriend’s hair like a halo. “A car almost hit me.” 
Remus’ eyebrows draw further together. “I heard, honey. Can you tell me what day it is?” 
“Mhm.” 
He waits a second. “What day?” 
“What?” 
“It’s Tuesday,” the woman says helpfully. 
Her voice comes from over by the road. You try to turn your head to find her, to say thank you, but Remus stops you with a hand on your jaw. 
“Thank you,” he calls to her. “I’m just testing her for a concussion, though.” 
You think you see him roll his eyes when he turns back towards you. 
“Okay.” He sets a hand on top of your head, warm and weighty and reassuring. You close your eyes, savoring the touch. “Hey, eyes open.” There’s a gentle stroke at your cheek, then a hard tap. You look at him. “Sorry, love, you’ve gotta stay awake. James and Sirius are on their way, okay?” 
“They…” You feel your eyebrows pinch. “They’re at work.” 
“I know. They’re coming in the ambulance, to help.” 
You feel the beginnings of a groggy sort of terror. It chills your blood and clogs your airways. You don’t want to go to the hospital. You want Sirius and James, but you want them to take you home. You want the soft warmth of your bed, not needles and prodding and the harshness of all those sounds and lights.
“Hey,” Remus says. His thumb strokes at your temple. You hear a shrill wailing in the distance, coming towards you. “Hey, look at me—you’re safe, honey.” His eyebrows press close together as he looks into your eyes, imploring. “It’s going to be okay.” 
The ambulance gets there quicker than you can respond, or maybe you just sit in silence until it arrives. Time is moving oddly. Your breath seems to take ages to pass through your lungs, but in a blink Sirius is hopping out of the van, jogging to your side. 
“She’s got a concussion, definitely dislocated shoulder and likely broken wrist,” Remus calls as he approaches. 
“Got it.” Sirius crouches in front of you. “Hello, gorgeous. Rough morning?” 
“A little.” 
He grins, lopsided and a bit strained. “Looks like it. Well don’t worry, our first order of business is getting you on some pain meds.” 
“I don’t want a needle.” 
Sirius’ smile slips a bit. “Sure you do, dollface. Trust me, it’ll help.” 
“You’re going to be in so much less pain with an IV,” Remus reasons, still stroking your hairline. “You won’t even know it’s there.” 
“I don’t…” 
James comes over with a gurney. “How’s our girl doing?”
“Great.” Sirius takes the hand on your uninjured side, giving it a little squeeze. “We’re gonna need a splint and a sling, but she should be okay to move.” 
The boys don’t need much talking to coordinate, and a second later you’re being transferred onto the gurney. Remus and James hold your injured arm tight to your side, and still a muffled groan tears from between your teeth. 
“I know, sweetheart.” James kisses your forehead as they stand the gurney up. “I know, I’m sorry.” 
He’s holding something to your head. You try to look up at it, but you can’t. “What is that?” 
“This? It looks like, uh…a dish towel? Rem?” 
Remus shrugs, crawling up into the ambulance. “I knew she was bleeding, and I took what was on hand.” 
Bleeding. You had been bleeding, you remember. You wonder how much you’d lost. You feel a bit less foggy now, though still a bit dazed. 
“How bad is it?” you ask James quietly. 
“Not bad,” he tells you, looking at you as he says it so you’ll know he’s being honest. He helps Sirius lift you into the ambulance. “You’ll need a couple of stitches, but it won’t be horrid.” 
You must pale at the mention of stitches, because Remus gives you a sympathetic look, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “Don’t worry about it right now, dove. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not on shift, so I can stay after the boys drop us off.” 
“Fuck that,” Sirius says, lifting the dish towel from your head to get a look at the cut. “I’m staying too.” 
“It’s been a slow day,” James agrees. “If they need us for anything, we’ll go back out.” 
Sirius huffs. “We’ll see.” He presses some gauze over your cut, taping it down. 
James goes to the window at the front, telling the paramedic driving that you’re good to go. You feel something cold on your arm, and look over to see Remus cleaning the crook of your elbow with a wipe just before Sirius blocks your view with his hand. He tilts your head back towards him. 
“Look at me,” he instructs. “You’re okay, baby.” 
You try to look back towards Remus, but Sirius’ hand is firm, keeping you still. 
“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he offers. “We’re going to give the pain meds a few minutes to kick in, then put your wrist in a brace. Our best bet for your shoulder is just to keep it still until” —You hiss as you feel the small needle pierce your skin, and Sirius’ brows twitch together commiseratingly—  “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll keep your shoulder still until we get to the hospital, and there, they’ll set that, stitch your head up, and give you a cast for your wrist. Sound okay, doll?” 
“Yeah,” you manage. 
He presses his lips to your forehead, letting them sit there for a second before pulling away. When he moves his hand, Remus has just finished taping down the IV. 
He runs his thumb over the delicate skin of your forearm fondly. “You’re doing so well, dove.”
“Thanks,” you squeak, and your vision blurs frustratingly. You press your lips together. 
“Hey, what’s up?” James’ tone is light, but you can hear the worry behind it. “Is it the pain?”
You shake your head, closing your eyes as tears slip down your face. You’ve got no good hands to wipe them with, an IV in one arm and the other limp and useless. 
“You’re alright.” Remus rubs your good shoulder. His voice is low and tranquilizing. “Take a breath.” 
“I—I can’t stop.” Your breath comes in embarrassing, ragged gasps. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, angel,” James says. “Just breathe.”
You try, filling your lungs as best you can with your eyes still squeezed shut. The hot tears remind you of the feeling of warm blood on your face, and that only makes you cry harder. Remus rubs your shoulder, murmuring quiet assurances. 
After a while, Sirius speaks tentatively. “The meds should be working by now,” he says. “Do you feel any better?” 
You sniff. You hadn’t even noticed the pain fading. “Yeah, I—I think so.” 
“Okay.” He thumbs at your tears almost apologetically. “We’re gonna use this blow-up thingy to stabilize your wrist.” 
“It shouldn’t hurt too badly,” James says, taking your hand in his, “but if it does, just give me a squeeze, okay?” He smiles. “You can break my hand a little if you need to. Then we’ll really be in this together.” 
You do your best to smile back at him. He looks like he appreciates it. 
“Deep breaths,” Remus reminds you as they pump up the splint. 
You tear up again and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of James’ hand, but it’s over quicker than you expected. Sirius kisses your hairline. 
“Now we’re just waiting,” he reassures you. “We can’t do anything else until we get there.” 
You’re relieved. “Hey, what happened to that lady?” 
“Who?” 
“The lady who was…she was there.” 
“The woman who helped you call me?” Remus asks. “She left.” 
“She did?” 
“Yeah, honey. Just before James and Sirius got to us. You don’t remember?” 
“Wait, was that the driver?” Sirius asks. “She didn’t stay?” 
“No.” Remus’ tone turns sour. “The driver didn’t stop.” 
You don’t have to look at Sirius to feel his ire. It comes off him like waves of heat. “Fucker,” he seethes. 
“Sirius,” James says warningly. 
“I think it was an accident,” you say, trying to calm him. 
“Hitting a biker is an accident.” Sirius’ voice is low and dangerous. “A careless, idiotic accident, but leaving them, without even knowing what happened, is fucking—”
“Sirius,” Remus says sternly. “Not the time, love.” 
Sirius looks at you, softening. “Sorry, doll, you know I’d never leave you. But after we’re done here, I’m quitting my job to hunt that prick down.” 
“Full time?” James asks curiously. “Like what, Liam Neeson or something?” 
“Exactly like that.” 
“Doesn’t seem like a great way to make money.” 
“You won’t cover my portion of the rent for a couple months while I avenge our cruelly maimed sweetheart?” Sirius is aghast. “Have you no sense of justice?” 
“Am I maimed?” you ask, part joking but part genuinely alarmed. 
“Of course not, love,” Remus assures you quickly. He shoots Sirius a vexed look. “Maiming implies a permanency that doesn’t apply here. You’ll be fine.” 
“I was really just talking about the injustice part of it,” Sirius admits. 
“I’d rather not be avenged,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it if we got to keep you, and you didn’t hunt anyone down or get thrown in prison or anything.” 
“Mmm, I’ll consider it.” He kisses just above your eyebrow. “Say I abandon my vigilante life, what could I do instead that would make you feel better?” 
“A hug?” 
“Let me see what I can do.” 
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mysterycitrus · 15 days
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there’s a pattern of behaviour in emergency services wrt police — meaning if emts or firefighters report police misdemeanours or unlawful actions against civilians then police might retaliate by not answering emergency calls from said teams that reported them. this is an established thing, at least among people i know.
reworking nightwing 96’s cop plotline (beloathed) to be dick grayson taking on the role as an emt to investigate a number of suspiciously timed murders and the police who are trying to cover up is a lot more interesting to me than just…. him being a cop. he’s still doing tangible good in bludhaven. he’s able to directly witness how the system has failed the people it’s supposed to protect. it adds an actual, proper investigative element as dick is forced to tactically gather evidence and build alliances. his ability to lead and think rationally during a crisis is a lot more valuable when performing life saving medical care vs kicking down a door with an assault rifle. let him drive an ambulance!!!!
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so, for all the firefighter!yuuji aus that i adore, i never see any ems!megumi, which feels like a crime
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hornedqueenofhell · 8 months
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Steddie Sick fic pt. 3
Pt 2
When they make it to the parking lot Steve is clearly having a time freeing himself from octopus Eddie who has decided to latch onto Steve with a single-minded determination. Gareth wishes he had a camera.
He can’t see what Harrington does to make Eddie let go but whatever it was was very effective as Eddie finally releases his grip and allows Steve to lay him down in the backseat. Dustin hands his keys back and accepts a hug from Steve before the freshman trots back over to them as Jonathan pulls into the parking lot. The boys wave to each other and then Steve is gone, taking Eddie with him.
“You think he’ll be okay?” Grant asks worriedly, they did just hand Eddie the Freak Munson, weak as a kitten, off to King Steve. The enormity of what just happened starts to hit them all and they start to panic.
“Oh fuck, oh god what if he kills him?”
“He wouldn’t do that right? The kids wouldn’t have called him if he would, right?!”
A sharp whistle cuts them off and they all turn to Lucas who pulls his fingers from his mouth, he gives them all a disappointed look, his hands settling on his hips like a small, angry soccer mom. “Steve is getting certified as an EMT. He’ll keep Eddie safe.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Gareth explodes, he was ready to tear his hair out worried about his friend.
“Steve doesn’t know that we know.” Mike says as he hands Dustin his backpack, Will is already off to go talk to his brother.
“Huh?” The band collectively replies.
“He’s scared he’ll fail. Doesn’t want to tell anyone until he’s sworn in, like there’s any chance he won’t be top of his class. He doesn’t know that we all know already, we’re planning a big party for him once he graduates. Of course Dustin has all the subtlety of a brick to the face so how Steve hasn’t figured out that he knows yet is the real surprise.” Lucas explains, giving Dustin some major side eye.
“Hey!”
Well that was kinda reassuring, didn’t people who did medical stuff have to take a vow to not hurt people or something like that?
“What’s going to happen when Eddie wakes up?” Oh boy.
~O~
Munson was scary light as Steve got him through the front door and onto the couch. He’d mumbled a few things into Steve’s neck when he got jostled as Steve kicked the front door closed behind them but settled down again shortly after.
“What was that?” He asked as he pushed Munson’s sweaty hair off his forehead.
“Had… dream…like this.” He mumbles and yeah Steve needs to get his fever down. He walks into the kitchen and finds a frozen bag of peas he used to use for sports injuries and after wrapping it up with a towel from the stove he plops the bag on Munson's face.
"Blindfolding me 'lready, sssso bold."
“You really never shut up do you?” He rests one arm on the couch arm, chin propped on the other with a slight smirk. He leans over Eddie and watches as the older boy drags the bag of peas to his chest to hold against his overheated core and blinks up at him with foggy, wet bambi eyes.
“C’n think… a feww ‘ays.” Munson tries to give him a flirty look back but his fever makes him uncoordinated so it looks more like his face just scrunches up uncomfortably. It makes Steve chuckle softly and Eddie lights up in response.
“Pretty… pretty boy.” He tries to reach up but Steve catches his hand and gently places it back on the pea ice pack. Munson was smart, pressing his wrists against it to help cool him down. 
“I know I’m gorgeous Munson but let’s get you feeling better before you try to kiss me okay?”
“Promise?” Well, Steve feels like he should be surprised but considering Eddie has been basically spilling his sexuality in his fevered state, he’s just going to wait it out and see if Eddie remembers any of this later. And if he doesn’t then he will keep the older boy’s secret.
“We can talk about it when your fever breaks. Do you think you could keep some food down for me or would you rather take some Nyquil and sleep?”
Eddie looks queasy at just the mention of food so it’s not a surprise when he asks for sleep. Steve stands and goes to dig through his medicine cabinet, he knows he stocked up when Dustin had a cold from all the stress after Starcourt. After filling up the little cup with the medicine he fills another glass with some gatorade mixed with ice for him to wash it down.
Eddie’s breathing is still a little shallow when he returns, but hopefully the medicine will help with the fever breaking. He is able to haul Eddie up enough to get him to drink the medicine but struggles with getting him to sip the juice. Eventually Eddie places his hand over Steve’s to steady him so he’s not feeling waterboarded. 
“Spose it’ss too late t’ ask, you di’n’t poison me right?”
Steve sets the glass aside since it seems like Eddie is done drinking. “No Munson, I’m not that jealous of you stealing my kids yet.”
“Nooo, not jel’uss. Kids luv you.” His slurring started to get worse as the meds kicked in.
“We can debate that in the morning, for now let’s get you in a bed.” He takes the melty bag of peas and sets them aside before scooping Eddie up again. Getting up the stairs leaves Steve huffing a bit, Eddie is light but he isn’t weightless. He says as such and gets a bite to the shoulder for his trouble.
“...u callin’ me fat?” He pouts and weakly tries to squirm away.
“No Eddie you’re the prettiest princess at the ball I assure you. I will search the whole kingdom to find out who could ever fit into your scuffed up Docs.” Steve snorts but Eddie looks pleased as punch at Steve’s proclamation.
“Damn straight.” Eddie sighs tiredly, his head lolling against Steve’s shoulder. “Don’ wanna wake up.”
“Wake up from what Eddie?” He asks as he lays Eddie in the guest bed, he kneels down to tug off Eddie’s boots and set them aside. Talking to Eddie is like conversing with a sleep talker at this point.
“Dream, you bein’ niccce.”
“What would you like me to say in this dream of yours then? Before you wake up.” He asks, looking up at Eddie from where he’s kneeling in front or the other, hands gripping his shins to keep his balance. He’s not expecting Eddie to reach out and touch his cheek with icy fingers.
“Ssssuch a crussh on you…school.” 
Steve’s cheeks explode with color at that admission and he quickly stands up to lay Eddie down and tuck him in. Eddie is out as soon as he hits the pillow. Steve runs a hand through his hair and sighs as he watches Eddie Munson curl around his pillow in his sleep and let out a loud snore.
Shaking his head he leaves the door cracked open and heads back downstairs to clean up and watch some tv before bed.
Pt 4
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chiquilines · 2 months
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Silly togachako uni doodles since I havent drawn them in a minute
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ty-the-trainwreck · 3 months
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fire fighter robin buckley in her little firefighter pants with the suspenders and she just walks around the station like that while EMT nancy watches with heart eyes and a little drool
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milimeters-morales · 30 days
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FINALLY… MORE SPIDEY (SPECIFICALLY MILES) + MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS INTERACTIONS
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TAKE CARE OF HIM !!! YESSSS!!!!!
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theriu · 11 months
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I learned recently from family members that EMTs and paramedics are having trouble right now with people in accidents refusing to say whether they are biologically male or female, stating it’s “none of their business” and “doesn’t matter.”
Friends, IT DOES MATTER! Male and female bodies ARE biologically different and can exhibit similar symptoms for different reasons, and if the EMT doesn’t know which you are, THEY MAY NOT BE ABLE TO TREAT YOU because they can’t be sure what’s wrong! This is not a matter of gender politics, it is a matter of life and death! PLEASE, be honest with your healthcare provider, especially in an emergency! THEY DO NEED TO KNOW!
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zmickmilk · 1 month
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If mickey can get out of prison in less time than his original sentence after literally breaking out, Ian can get his emt job back
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audhd-nightwing · 1 year
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steve: yeah i’m a government employee
eddie: i fucking hate cops
steve: good thing i’m an EMT then
eddie: …
eddie: *starts twirling his hair* so… are you free tonight?
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moonstruckme · 1 month
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Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊
Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3
cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words
You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 
Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 
“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 
“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 
“I, um—” 
“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 
“I broke my finger,” you admit. 
Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 
“Shut it in my car door.” 
James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 
Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 
You nod meekly. 
“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 
“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 
“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 
Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 
James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 
“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 
“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 
The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 
You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 
Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 
“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 
He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 
“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 
Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 
“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 
Remus tuts and lets his hand against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 
You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 
“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 
“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 
You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 
“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 
“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 
“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 
“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 
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dragonpyre · 28 days
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Medical drama but the hospital part is given as much attention as the jobs in FRIENDS. Yeah they work at a hospital, but mostly they sit in the cafeteria bitching about interpersonal drama. One of them gets a Disese. It’s barely touched on.
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hornedqueenofhell · 8 months
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Steddie Sick fic pt. 1
Pre s4 - Eddie is sick but doesn't want to miss Hellfire, until he collapses from his fever and the kids in a panic call Steve. Steve taking care of Eddie who while delirious calls him pretty and says he had a crush on him.
Eddie had been feeling off since he woke up, his throat was dry and scratchy and his body ached like he got hit by a bus. But he needed to maintain some level of attendance at the school and he was already pushing his limits so he downed some painkillers with a cup of coffee and grabbed his books and keys before heading to school.
He doesn’t remember if he managed to take notes or not, even if he did they probably wouldn’t be coherent. His head feels stuffed full of wool and he barely managed to keep down two of the crackers and the water Gareth insisted on nudging his way. When the last bell rang he trudged towards the Drama room to start setup, because of course he couldn’t just go home when he felt so awful, they had Hellfire tonight. He kept his head down, waiting for the halls to mostly empty before moving, and if he had to occasionally lean against the wall to get there that was his business.
A lesser DM may have canceled or postponed but he knew little Will Byers would be leaving them soon for California and that Wheeler, Henderson, and Sinclair were trying to spend as much time together as possible. Honestly it felt a little codependent the way that the others clung to Will, all of them insanely attentive to the smallest flinch the smaller boy let out. There was clearly a story there, one Eddie wasn’t in the mood to hear today. 
He got the minis set up and all but collapsed into his throne, everything hurt and the room was swimming a bit around the edges of his vision. He was breathing hard and shallow too, he needed to get it together. Gareth showed up earlier than everyone else, Eddie was fairly certain his friend could tell that he was under the weather. This was confirmed when the drummer pressed more painkillers into his hand and passed him a still warm cup of tea.
“You break into the teachers lounge?” Christ, was that his voice?! He quickly downed the pills and took a quick sip of the tea.
“You sure you’re up for this man?” Gareth asks instead, Eddie waves his worries off as he takes another sip.
“Yeah man I’m fine, just a frog in the throat is all.” It’s pretty clear neither of them were convinced by that but before his friend could protest or make him cancel the children arrived and the other boy was forced to retreat.
This wasn’t Eddie’s best game he’ll be honest. Between trying to sip the tea as little as possible in order to make it last and all of his npc voices still coming out weak and raspy he just wanted this session to be over. The kids were arguing and Eddie barely had enough strength to smack a hand on the table to shut them up instead of shouting at them. Will kept staring at him, intuitive little fucker he was, could probably tell Eddie wasn’t all there. Okay it was time to end this.
Eddie stood from his throne and tried to make it look like he planned it when he had to splay his hands across the table to stay upright. Black spots danced across his vision and he blinked hard several times to try and clear them. He shook his head when that failed and oh shit that only made it worse, now with spotty vision and vertigo Eddie had to swallow hard as bile climbed up the back of his throat. Just two more minutes damnit.
“Alright everyone, tha-,” he cleared his throat, why did it feel like he was swaying in circles, he wasn’t was he? “That’s all forrrr…” His knees started to buckle so he locked them, fat lot of good it did when they already felt like jelly. He straightened up to his full height and realized too late that was a very bad idea.
“Shit.” Was the last word that slipped from his lips before everything went black.
Pt 2
Follow the #Steddiefic Chronicles tag to keep track of this story
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yeahimcal · 2 months
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Bad News (Terry McGinnis)
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“Terry McGinnis is bad news, you don’t want to mess with him.” was the first thing you heard about him.
“He’s a bad boyfriend. Skips dates, flakes on plans, always has weird bruises is and really tired. None of his partners have ever caught him cheating, but he definitely does.” Was the next several things, all said in a hushed whisper as you were ushered past the black-haired boy in question.
He certainly didn’t… look like bad news. You’d dated guys who were bad news before, and very few of them had looked like Terry. Acted like him, either.
He was nice. He had helped you with your homework when you cried at the study tables in the library, smoothing a soothing hand over your shoulder blades almost unconsciously as he walked you through your chemistry exam study guide. He’d given you some gum, a smile, and a pat on the back before he promptly fell asleep on the table in the back corner of the library, snoring softly.
You’d slid your number into his hand when you left, and that was it for a while. He didn’t text. You saw each other in passing, and he’d smiled and you’d smiled, but nothing more.
Until you’d gotten the call.
“Hey.” He breathed into the speaker, his voice sounding oddly pained. “I’m sorry to call at this hour, but, uh, this… this isn’t really something I can call my mom for.”
He’d given you the address of an abandoned warehouse, begged you not to be freaked out when you got there, and hung up.
You went.
You didn’t really know why you went, for all you knew it was a really elaborate booty call or kidnapping scheme, but ten minutes later you parked next to the warehouse and slipped inside.
There, leaned up against a wall, bleeding and bruised, was Terry.
“You’re- you’re studying to be an EMT, right?” He asked with a pained smile that was supposed to be charming, gesturing to his wounds. “I figured you’d appreciate some hands-on experience.”
“What the hell?” You’d breathed, giving him a shocked look as you rushed to examine his wounds. “Terry, why didn’t you call the police?”
“Not the sharpest, are you.” Terry grunted in what might have been amusement, hissing as you poked and prodded him to see what was hurting. “Can’t call the police, they’d arrest me.”
“Arrest you?” You’d echoed, and then you took in his outfit. All black, with a red bat on the front. A cowl was clutched in his hand, the ends sharpening into little points. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, I’m Batman.” Terry chuckled, but it was more at the look of shock on your face. He moved to sit up and then groaned, cringing and covering his wound. “Can you patch me up before I die here, please? Kinda called you for your specific set of skills.”
“You are so stupid.” You chided, but reluctantly dug around in your bag for hydrogen peroxide and bandages.
“And you’re old school, doc.” He breathed, smiling up at you cheekily. “You don’t carry those fancy little kits that heal people up on the spot?”
“They don’t sell them to anyone other than certified medical personnel.” You said, giving him a pointed glare and dousing his wound in hydrogen peroxide. “And I’m not a doctor.”
“Ah-” Terry hissed, tipping his head back and gasping in a little breath. … he was pretty. He was really pretty, and it was a little distracting. The voices of your friends rang out in the back of you head, warning you that he was trouble, but you couldn’t find it in you to listen when he swallowed thickly and turned to look at you, a lopsided smile on his pale face. “Same difference.” He breathed, chuckling.
You looked back at his wound, face flushed and feeling dizzy from the laps your brain was having to do to see Terry- scrawny, ‘bad boy’, Terry- as Batman. It seemed ridiculous, but his muscles were right there underneath your hands, tensing as you bandaged him up. He looked bigger than he did when you saw him in passing, stronger- when you saw him, he was always wearing bigger clothes that nearly dwarfed him, making him look smaller than he was. His hair was damp with sweat that ran down his face and made him look a little bit red, his lips parted as he breathed in air. He was gorgeous.
Suddenly, it made a little more sense why his exes had kept on giving him chances.
You worked quietly and efficiently, only sparing a few looks at your accidental patient before you finished patching him up.
“You should get that checked out at an actual hospital.” You said, helping him to his feet. “And I still don’t understand why you called me. We aren’t… friends.”
Terry shrugged, cupping your face in his hand and grinning a toothy smile at you. “Yeah, well, we definitely are now, doc.” He teased, tapping your nose and pushing away from you to head towards the doors opposite of where you’d parked. “Text me sometime and we can go out and get some drinks. I feel like you’ll be better company when you’re not crying over your study guides.”
He slipped the cowl on over his head and you could very nearly feel his stupid smile, which you already knew was going to get you in more trouble than you had bargained for, as he slipped out the doors and into the Gotham night.
When you walked back out to your car, it had a flat tire, and the window was broken.
… okay, maybe Terry was bad news.
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jtl-fics · 11 months
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Fluent Freshman - Part 22
PREVIOUS
Y’know how sometimes you have something that you need to do or something that you know is going to happen but you just keep…putting it off? Like you know at some point it is going to happen but you put it off over and over and over and over again? You’re getting increasingly anxious every time you put it off because you know it has to get done but you also know that the longer you wait the worse it is going to get. Finally, FINALLY, the anxiety is just a little too much and you end up having to deal with it.
You finally deal with it and the whole ordeal takes maybe five minutes tops and it was in no way shape or form worth the level of anxiety that you put yourself through. Like you worried about this for a good and long while and it wasn’t even that bad?
That is currently how FF feels about being stabbed by Andrew Minyard.
This is what he was so worried about that he had lost sleep, had nightmares, had lost weight, and had exacerbated his stress ulcers over.
Getting stabbed wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he had thought it was going to be. Maybe it was the fact that it was just a single stab wound instead of the Psycho levels that he had been imagining (Wow, showers were going to be so much less stressful now that he didn’t have to confirm Andrew Minyard’s location before triple checking the lock). Maybe it was the fact that he is PUMPED full of adrenaline from his fights against Jackson and Romero but the stab wound didn’t even really hurt at the moment.
This isn’t even the worse thing that had happened to him this year!
That honor still goes to the joint winners of when his Step Family and mother found out that he had a full-ride to Palmetto and when he had tripped up the same step on the stairs at school three times in a row as people watched and laughed.
(Maybe also the solitary congratulations from his Grandma in regards to his graduation but FF doesn’t let himself think about that, won’t think about it.)
He wouldn’t necessarily call being in a state of ‘stabbed’ a pleasant time but Andrew was being so NICE about it.
“Stop trying to sit up you fucking idiot!” Andrew shouts at him.
Well….Andrew’s version of nice.
(This is the same version of nice that he had misunderstood for months at this point. Maybe FF is just enough in shock from the stab wound in his stomach that he’s starting to grasp the basics in the difficult language of Andrew Minyard’s niceness.)
Andrew had gotten off the phone with 911 and then started pulling off his own jacket before draping it over FF’s upper body, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and then Andrew started to apply pressure to his stomach wound.
Ow.
That is not a great feeling. This stabbing may eke out past the great triple trip of March 2010.
“No, take back your jacket. You’ll get cold if you don’t have it on.” FF argues because his own jacket is barely doing the job. Maybe it’s the cold pavement of the alley, maybe it’s the blood loss, or maybe it’s the cooling sweat he’d worked up but he is shivering pretty badly.
A thought occurs to him as he feels the weird wet stickiness of his own blood sticking to Nicky’s shirt. “Can you help me get my jacket off?” He asks looking pleadingly at Andrew, “It’s my dad’s. I don’t wanna mess it up with my blood.” He clarifies when Andrew looks at him like he’s a lunatic.
Except his second call must connect right then because Andrew’s answer is non-sensical to what FF had asked, “Neil, let Roland know the police and ambulances are en route.” There’s a brief pause and the pressure against his stomach increases as a muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumps. “Smith got stabbed.” He says and he looks angry, angrier than FF had ever seen Andrew when he’s talking to Captain Neil. There is another pause, more than likely Neil saying something or asking a question, “No, it wasn’t them.” Andrew grits out and the pressure on FF’s stomach hurts, “Just get out here, I need help with smith and making sure these two assholes don’t go anywhere before the police come and grab them.” He says before he pulls one hand away from Smith’s stomach (wow he really is bleeding isn’t he?) to hang up the phone.
Andrew’s gaze turns back to him fully, “You’re not moving an inch Smith, your jacket can be cleaned.” He hisses. “Now stay still and don’t fall asleep.” He orders.
Andrew seems stressed so FF complies. He can’t help but notice how Andrew’s hands seem to be shaking as the press down on his stomach. He kind of wishes he had a pillow or something for his head because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. Andrew’s jacket would be safer from his blood if it was a pillow instead of a blanket. Still, FF would sooner die than spit on any of Andrew’s current efforts to make him more comfortable.
He looks at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Well, he might die regardless of whether or not he spits on Andrew’s efforts.
He needs to take his mind off this.
“Should we take it out and pretend the Dundee knife stabbed me instead??” FF asks letting his mind go to the first thought in his head so that he could be distracted from his own mortality. “I think it’s still under the dumpster over there.” He moves to point one of his hands towards where the knife had remained throughout this entire ordeal.
Andrew’s knee pinned his arm before he could move it, “Stop moving Smith.” Andrew reminded him before moving his knee. “We have to leave the knife in. You’ll bleed to death otherwise.” Andrew reminds.
“I guess that’s true, so do we just say that Romero got a handle on your knife and stabbed me?” He asks fighting his own shivers since he’s a little worried that any shaking on his part would just make the stab wound worse.
“I stabbed you Smith.” Andrew says looking at him with a furrowed brow.
“Yeah, I know,” FF agrees, “but we’re not going to say THAT to the cops.” He says and shock really is one HELL of a drug because he thinks he might have actually given Andrew Minyard an incredulous look with his atrophied face muscles. It’s either Shock or the knowledge that even if he irritates Andrew, what’s Andrew going to do about it?
STAB HIM?
“You’re going to lie to the cops?” Andrew asks, “I STABBED you Smith.” Andrew repeats.
“Yeah, I know!” FF repeats back, “You stabbed me on ACCIDENT.” FF makes sure to use the same intonation that Andrew had used to emphasize the word Stabbed. “Jackson wanted to stab me on PURPOSE. You saw that knife Andrew.” He tries to gesture towards the knife again but again Andrew’s knee pinned his hand.
He could use his other one but the reminder to stay still is enough.
“I still stabbed you.” Andrew says removing his knee again when it’s clear that FF wasn’t going to try and gesture again.
“Well, if I was going to get stabbed by anyone, I guess I’m glad my first time was with you.” Andrew let’s out a bark of a laugh that sounds more like it was punched out of him than anything, “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson would have given me his jacket afterwards or try and help me keep my blood in my body.” He says and it feels like a victory (not a both hands in the air victory cry level victory but it was close) when Andrew’s face settled into one of faint amusement.
“Probably not.” Andrew agreed, “He doesn’t seem big on Aftercare.” He says.
FF doesn’t know what that means but nods like he does, “So, Romero got a hold of your knife during our tussle and he’s the one who stabbed me. Okay? That’s the story I’m going to stick with no matter who asks me.” He looks Andrew in the eye.
“Alright Smith,” one of Andrew’s hands leaves his stomach and clasps around his shoulder and FF can’t help but notice how neither of Andrew’s hands are shaking anymore. “We can lie to the police.” He squeezes FF’s shoulder.
“Nice.” He says and lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He hears a siren in the distance and hopes it’s coming for him.
They sit in silence for maybe 30 seconds before the door slams open and only Andrew’s hands on his stomach and shoulder keep him from shooting straight up in a panic. Captain Neil seemed to take in the scene at lightning speed but it was Andrew who spoke first, “You left Aaron and Nicky with Roland?” He asks.
“Yeah I did,” Captain Neil confirms and FF can see the moment that his eyes land on the knife handle jutting out of FF’s stomach, “Andrew, what are we going to tell the police?” Captain Neil asks and FF could already see Neil crafting a lie to cover Andrew. That’s one of the things that FF likes about Captain Neil and Andrew’s relationship. He thinks it’s nice that both of them have someone who no matter the circumstances would be there with a shovel to help bury a body. He even thought it was nice when he thought it’d be his body!
“The second guy stabbed me.” The lie comes out smoothly which is good because he is planning on committing to it and Captain Neil blinks and looks at him, “He got hold of Andrew’s knife during the tussle.” He adds.
Captain Neil looks to Andrew, “You said it wasn’t-“
“I guess Smith can lie to a liar.” Andrew interrupts.
Captain Neil’s eyes widen before a wicked grin spread across his face that made FF just a little uncomfortable but only because Andrew’s grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and his nostrils flared the way they did before the two usually started speaking in Russian.
He can handle being stabbed, he cannot handle being in shock and pretending that he doesn’t know what the two of them are saying to one another.
“Can you tell Nicky I’m sorry I got blood on his clothes?” He asks and both Captain Neil and Andrew’s gaze snap away from eye-fucking each other. He looks down and the clothes are black and they haven’t moved the knife so the wound is plugged still but yeah there’s definitely blood seeping into the shirt, not to mention the hole. “Could you tell him I’m sorry about that?” He asks.
“You are going to tell him yourself Smith.” Andrew hisses, “You are going to be fine. Do you understand me?” He asks before turning to Neil, “Can you bunch your jacket under his legs, it’s better to keep them higher than his head and heart?” He asks.
Aw.
Andrew is just so nice.
He can’t BELIEVE he thought Andrew wanted to hunt him for sport.
He’d apologize for thinking that but he thinks it’d be better to just let that particular misunderstanding go unmentioned.
Captain Neil bunches his jacket up and puts it under FF’s legs before he goes over to check on Romero and Jackson. In the corner of his eye he sees Captain Neil pause at the sight of Romero before moving over to Jackson.
“Why is he in these?!” Neil asks baffled.
“It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” Yeah he’s definitely going into shock. The sirens are getting closer though so he’ll probably be okay.
***
The cops all have a bit of a laugh about Jackson’s cuffs until Neil tells them exactly who they are taking into custody. Neil could admit that he’s a little irritated with Andrew that at no point did the man clarify that the people who FF and Andrew were dealing with were Romero and Jackson.
Those are his father’s goons.
“They were here for me.” Neil says to the police officer and Andrew’s hand tightens in his, “They tried to take Smith because he’s my friend.”
They had decided on their story before the cops came. FF had no idea who any of these people were and was just defending himself. He’d gone out to catch his breath in the alley when Jackson had shown up. Neil had asked how in the world FF had handled Jackson on his own but FF must have been getting kind of loopy from blood loss because all he said was, “He told me to sing so I did.”
Neil can find out the full story later.
The important part is.
“Jackson went after Smith but Smith won the fight.” Neil says looking at where the cops are trying to decide how to get the fuzzy pink handcuffs off of Jackson to get him in the far more secure police issued handcuffs.
“Your friend said that you and he took out Romero together. That Romero is the one who stabbed him with your knife.” He says.
“Yes.” Andrew answers simply and Neil squeezes his hand as a reminder, “I went out to grab a smoke and Romero followed after me. Romero got hold of one of my knives in the struggle and stabbed Smith.” Andrew says with his usual deadpan affect.
“Yeah that’s what your friend Smith was saying too.” The officer says. “Well, I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you all further but for now it’s a pretty clear cut case of self defense and no one but your friend has any serious injuries.” The officer pats Neil on the shoulder and Neil manages not to shirk away from the touch. The officer retracts his hand, “You guys are free to go tonight.” He says and turns back towards the car where a dazed Romero is in the back seat.
“Where did they take Smith?” Andrew asks since they’d been shepherded away from Smith the moment the ambulance had come. They hadn’t been able to ask which hospital Smith was going to be taken to so they could go and get updates.
“Lexington.” The cop answers, “Go on and see your friend. He seemed pretty loopy he kept talking about some beauty contest thing when he was getting loaded into the ambulance. I’m sure he’ll be a riot on painkillers.” The cop goes for a joke but it twists something in Neil’s stomach to think of FF so out of it that he’s talking nonsensically.
He feels Andrew’s hand stiffen in his and knows he’s not alone.
“Thanks.” Neil says before they head towards the front of the club. The club had been emptied out when the cops had come so Roland was babysitting Aaron and Nicky for them while they talked to the cops and FF was loaded out to the hospital.
In a way it’s almost a blessing that Nicky and Aaron are both so blasted that they aren’t comprehending any of what’s going on. They’ll have to drop them off back at the house before they go to the hospital. They’ll beat Wymack there easily even after the interrogation and drop off.
FF had asked them to call Wymack to let him know what was going on “I gave him the rights to make health care decisions for me if I’m incapacitated.” FF had said so Neil texts Wymack the hospital and the address after Andrew rattles it off for him.
“I don’t like that you hid it from me.” Neil says in the car.
“They wanted to kill you.” Andrew won’t apologize.
They still hold hands on the drive back to the Columbia house.
Andrew takes care of getting Aaron into bed while Neil helps Nicky.
Nicky who looks at Neil with a loopy smile and Neil hurts knowing that tomorrow when Nicky finds out about tonight and how he was too blasted to do anything to help FF.
Andrew and Neil reconvene in the Maserati and make their way to the hospital before either of them realize the issue.
“What is the name of the patient you’re looking for an update on?” The receptionist asks.
Both Andrew and Neil freeze.
Fuck.
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