#consequence of diabetes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poppadom0912 · 4 months

Text

Excuses

Warnings: Mentions of fainting, diabetes, canon-typical injuries

Summary: You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

A/N: First fic of 2024!!! I had plans that I was going to post weekly in the new year just like last year but things went downhill. This january and february has had its very good but also really bad moments and even writing this was a struggle. I've found myself in a weird place of wanting to write but struggling and all of a sudden not being able to balance my schoolwork and writing. So I took a lil step back to solely focus on my work but looking at everything now, my fic updates will be much less frequent but hopefully just as or if not, more fun to read.

I feel bad for not saying or posting anything since the new year but I'm here now and hopefully will be more alive. I've got lots planned for you beautiful people, several series and way too many fics in my drafts that I cannot wait for you all to read. This wasn't as long or as juicy as I intended but my brain completely failed me so I hope this is good enough. I initially wanted to post this at the beginning of March but I finished the final editing today so here you go!!

Final note before we start, I have general knowledge about diabetes but that's all from my grandma. I have no idea if it's the same for teenagers so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Happy reading!!

Your biology teacher had been on maternity for three weeks now and you were seriously contemplating life.

Because of the crappy rules surrounding maternity leave, when your teacher refused to return before her three months ended, your school had a supply teacher fill in for her till she came back.

Since day one, you knew you hated her.

It was mid lesson and you knew as soon as you started feeling sluggish that your sugar levels were dropping. Your thoughts were only confirmed when your Dexcom receiver let you know of your decreasing glucose.

This wasn't a usual occurrence. Will and Jay always made sure you had eaten enough and you had the means to maintain the needed glucose levels so that nothing happened.

Alas, you were up late revising and you were stressing about keeping up your good grades. Jay was rushing you out the door because he needed to go to a scene he'd just been called to and Will was out walking Kol and hadn't seen you leave.

In conclusion, it'd been a hot minute since you last ate something.

The school were well aware of your diabetes. It was one of the very important things your brothers stressed them about when you first started.

Most students knew about it actually, having seen your Dexcom and not understanding since a diabetic child apparently wasn't common according to them.

So, when you randomly pulled out a snack from your bag mid class, no one questioned it and instead would make sure you were okay. There'd never been a problem before in school and everyone wanted it to stay that way.

However, this new teacher, Mrs Byrne was apparently completely unaware of your medical condition.

"Y/N. You know the rules about eating in class." She said strictly, pulling away all the attention from the board onto you.

She stopped you in the middle of opening the packet of fruit gummies. You frowned, looking at her confused along with your classmates.

"I have diabetes." You said bluntly, continuing to open the packet. "I don't eat this and I'll pass out."

Mrs Byrne only rolled her eyes, smiling at you condescendingly. "I've heard that excuse hundreds of times, give those to me."

You scoffed at the audacity, refusing to hand over what was yours.

It was when she started walking towards your desk with a pep in her step that the entire class got involved. Their raised voices overlapped, some angrier than others over what was happening.

However, you too were Stubborn alike to your brothers so you kept as firm of a grip of the packet. You turned a blind eye to the anger fuelled cover teacher. You continued to smile as she spewed threats of all sorts.

Due to your frustration and annoyance over the teacher who wanted to take your gummies away, you didn't notice how everything started change; how hard it was to move your eyes and lips, your limbs getting heavier and you thoughts slowly getting muddled up.

Lost in a daze, you were no longer able to fight back when she pulled harder, successfully snatching the small packet out of your hands. It was now that the class got furious, your friends were already up and at your side but now they were verbally attacking the teacher.

Fed up with her petty behaviour, you were going to get up and go to the nurses office who would take care of you but getting out your seat was harder said than done.

With one of your friends help, you weren't too sure who was helping you from your hazy sight that cleared when you blinked too many times.

You were wobbly on your feet, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom but before you could leave, you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

*****

It turned out that supposed crime scene that he was imminently needed at was nothing but a prank by a bunch of college boys resulting in a grumpy Hank putting them in cuffs and having them fined for a very reasonable reason.

That's how the rest of the unit found themselves finishing up paperwork, catching up about life in general as they debated what they were getting for lunch.

Jay was smugly sitting back, eyes flickering between Kevin and Adam who were bickering over something trivial when his phone rung, catching everyone's attention.

They were all so bored and normally when one of their phones went off during work hours, it meant something came up and they were needed.

In interest, everyone turned their heads towards Jay and waited for him to tell them they got a crime scene.

Picking up his phone, Jay's brows furrowed at the number, confused as to why your school was calling him in the middle of the day. They'd only call him if two things happened: You'd gotten in trouble or you got hurt.

"Hello. Is this Y/N Halsteads brother Jay?" A voice he couldn't recognised asked, most likely some lady from the main office.

"Yeah, that's me." Jay confirmed, sitting up in preparation for whatever he was going to be told.

"So sorry to interrupt you sir but Y/N collapsed in class." The lady said with guilt laced in her words. "Your other brother didn't pick up the phone. We called to let you know we had to call the paramedics and they've taken her to Chicago Med."

"Uh yeah." Jay said, collecting his jacket and keys. "Yes, thank you."

Not waiting for a reply, Jay hung up and quickly knocked on Hank's office door frame.

"Sarge, I gotta get Y/N-"

"Go get her. We're done here."

*****

Wanting to pull his hair out, Will rubbed his eyes in frustration, glaring at his patients scans that only confused him further. He was tired and was coming to half way through his twenty four hour shift.

"Dr Halstead- Uh, Dr Rhodes in T4." Maggie stumbled, looking down at her brick and making sure she read it correctly.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, confused as to why Maggie changed her mind which she usually never did.

"It's Y/N."

Now fully awake, Will followed Connor towards the ambulance bay where you were being rolled in. You were groggily sitting up on the stretcher, you hair a mess and a few scratches around your face and hands from when you fell.

"Sylvie, what happened?" Will asked the blonde paramedic while looking you over. He desperately wanted to check you over himself but let Connor do his thing. He really did not need Ms Goodwin on his case today.

"Teachers didn't tell us much but her classmates said she collapsed after not being able to eat." Sylvie relayed the minimal information she knew, shrugging her shoulders when the two doctors looked at her weirdly. "No one would tell us anything more."

"Y/N, it's Connor. Can you hear me kid?" Connor said while pulling out his penlight. He was like another brother to you, his concern just as high. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You groaned, mumbling nonsense with your eyes screwed closed. Your words were mostly unintelligible but Will understood them mere seconds later.

Fixing the problem you complained about, Will turned down the lights and let Connor continue fussing over you.

It didn't take long to find out the cause of your collapse, Will sighing at the news when he read the numbers from your tests.

"I thought she was always on top of her sugar levels." Connor said, closing the room door so you could sleep in peace.

And what he said was completely true but they weren't aware of why you couldn't today specifically of all days.

"She is." Will said, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Maybe her dexcom malfunctioned or something."

Connor hummed, agreeing with his friend.

"Hmm, maybe."

*****

Arriving at Med, Will gave Jay a detailed rundown of everything he new about your medical state but also the events pre your hospital arrival.

Getting a good look at you, holding your hand in his and kissing you on your forehead, Jay was more than happy to leave you in your oldest brothers safe hands while he got to the bottom of this entire ordeal.

He noticed Sylvie was still at Med, Foster mentioning they were running low on a few supplies so they needed some stocking up. Jay took this opportunity to interview the two paramedics and try to get further understanding on this situation that wasn't making much sense to him.

Arriving at your school, Jay had some thoughts in mind but they weren't very concrete and his confidence wasn't as strong as he'd like it to be.

Walking into the school, Jay immediately noticed an entire class sitting and standing around in the corridor waiting in front of the principals office.

One of the girls who had been sitting in a chair had caught sight of Jay, her eyes widening before she smiled, gently nudging the girl next to her and pointing in his direction. The girls reaction was the exact same.

This created a sort of domino effect as the boy next to her noticed Jay and everyone was telling the other of his sudden arrival. The once silent corridor was now beginning to fill with murmurs and whispers, all their eyes glued onto his figure that moved down the corridor, their shocked faces quickly changing into smiles and smirks.

It seems that Jay had a reputation of sorts.

"Why are you making so much noise? What did I just say about talking-"

The principal cut himself off from his scolding when he suddenly noticed Jay's presence, his face blanching as all the pieces clicked into place.

"Detective Halstead! What a surprise, we weren't expecting to see you so soon-"

This time Jay cut him off, not too bothered about his lack manners. "My brothers with Y/N at the hospital so I thought there was no other perfect time."

The principal remained silent.

"Now, why don't you explain to me why my sister fainted under your watch?"

The students behind Jay couldn't help but snicker knowingly.

#onechicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #halstead sister #jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagine #will halstead x sister!reader

450 notes · View notes

autisticadvocacy · 3 months

Text

"There are powerful consequences of this kind of tokenization. In reality, most amputees are more likely to be poor, belong to a marginalized identity group, and have chronic conditions like diabetes that reduce their mobility than the general population."

262 notes · View notes

vastderp · 14 days

Text

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

#death #gofundme #donate if you can #i had a baby brother

132 notes · View notes

ed-recovery-affirmations · 11 months

Text

I've been talking a lot about chronic health conditions and how they affect peoples' experiences of food, and I think that there's an important discussion that needs to be had about how two things can be possible at once. Somebody's specific health needs re: food can cause them to have serious, unpleasant symptoms if they do not carefully monitor their diet. This sucks, it affects their lives significantly, and their experiences are very real. It also doesn't make that food universally evil. When these experiences make their way into mainstream conversations around the "right" way to eat, it comes to blow up into this major diet-culture house of mirrors where every food is potentially the next inflammatory carcinogen out to kill you. So here's the thing: multiple truths can exist at the same time.

Diabetics need to carefully monitor their sugar consumption and blood sugar levels AND that does not make sugars evil or bad.

Celiacs need to avoid even trace amounts of gluten touching their food or else they will experience dire, lasting health consequences AND the use of gluten as a buzzword has contributed to a great deal of disordered eating AND gluten is not an inherently evil component of food.

Lactose intolerant people may have some pretty unpleasant experiences with dairy AND dairy-containing products are a perfectly adequate way to get calories and nutrients into your body.

Some people experience allergic reactions to food dyes AND food dye is not inherently the root of all health disorders.

It's really important to practice eating intuitively with the foods that work for YOU - and, if need be, with the help of qualified medical professionals who are familiar with your health history and your needs.

#chronic illness #diet culture #orthorexia #food mention #food purism #diet industry

234 notes · View notes

saltymongoose · 9 months

Note

Streamer player who got into the game with their phone and aren't exactly behaving the way the employers expected them to at first💥

Auditor goes on his little monologue about you being important to this entire reality and how you being locked up in here is non-negotiable and how you can't just leave! They finally got you here and they're so excited-

Player is giving no visual reactions but he keeps on talking (he. Is acting a bit out of pocket now that the player is finally here! You can't blame him!!!)

Then suddently they just kinda.

Player is now visibly irritated and typing up a longgg post abt them having to stop streaming for now and how they love their fans and won't stop interacting!!! It will just take longer to post significant content! And apologising profusely to their followers.

As they're doing this they start a very upset rant about the situation they're in

Like they go all the way off💥💥 going from how badly planned their kidnapping was and how if they really wanted the player to stay in this bland little concrete room the employers should have at the very least let them grab a charger. Did they even know if humans could breathe in this atmosphere?? They could have died! Did they even take their medication with them? No? Of course not. God, can it even get any worse? Oh! And just so you know, being locked in a small boring enviroment is very detrimental to any human's mental state! Do they even know if food in nevada can fit their dietary requirements?? If the auditor didn't go on that rant about the importance of the player, they'd assume they were captured to get tortured! If this is the level of planning the employers were capable of, then they could see why they couldn't catch Hank yet.

40 minutes after being left in the room by themselves the player gets out and they apologize for getting so mad.🫡

(What the rest of the employers see after the auditor leaves the player's room)

Omg, it's something the Employers never expected to see. The consequences of their own actions. 🤯

Yes, we love to see the Player sticking it to the Auditor (and the rest of the Employers), and they do have a point. Besides the observations they made over your webcam, they had no other source of information on humans, and it's not like watching someone play video games and go about their business in their room can tell you about all their needs. Your biology is completely unfamiliar to them, and who knows if you need any specialized medical care to deal with any disorders or ailments you have? Like if you were diabetic, how the hell would you get insulin? Do they even have insulin in Nevada? What about food? Or enrichment? Humans are social creatures, and it's not like talking only to the four of them would be sufficient for that. And that's just a few things in addition to the arguments you gave in your ask as well.

I like to think that the Player is just so done with the situation that they're the one who orders the Auditor to leave the room while they type out a message to their followers. I mean, they just woke up in a whole other dimension/world after being kidnapped. It's not like they'd be all that comfortable with just chilling in the room with the Auditor after giving him the verbal lashing they did lmao.

Meanwhile, the Employer is just beside himself, because he can't exactly weasel his way out of responsibility here or argue against what the Player said - because they're right. The Auditor took a major gamble by really just assuming they would be able to survive there off of some similar details in their surroundings, and if he were any less impulsive, he'd have done some further tests to see if such a thing was really feasible.

What makes it worse for him is that I'm also willing to bet that Stygian or one of the other Employers suggested doing just that, but he didn't listen to them because he never listens to them lmao. (Also I love that picture of the Auditor, it's one of my favorite things in the world now, no joke.)

And it's not like they're going to comfort or support him once he steps out of the room either. In fact, they'll probably chastise him (Stygian totally would at least), and then insist that you were entirely right and they don't think you should apologize at all.

Maybe they're doing it for extra brownie points, as the Auditor's clear fuckup in your eyes provides a very good opportunity to make themselves look good (even if it's extremely hypocritical lol). But then you reference their own work to help the Auditor's plan and throw it back in their faces because you just know he could never do this whole operation alone. (And you're still important to other people besides them regardless, like your beloved fans who're gonna have to deal with the fallout of their selfishness.)

However, fortunately for the other three, your scolding is far less harsh than it had been on the Auditor. That doesn't mean you won't still make a point of it when necessary though.

#omg the Auditor's face #it's the 🥺 for me #Player: Damn. If you think “Auditing Nevada” is hard #ask #chat tag #cuch1 #other's art #fav #madness combat x reader #self aware m:pn au #samau

164 notes · View notes

lifewithchronicpain · 1 year

Text

Tapering patients on long-term opioid therapy results in more emergency department visits and hospitalizations, according to a large new study that found reduced opioid use was particularly disruptive to the healthcare of pain patients with diabetes and high blood pressure.

The study by researchers at University of California Davis is the latest to document the “unintended negative consequences” of policies that limit opioid prescribing. A previous study by the same research team found that tapering raises the risk of an overdose and mental health crisis.

In their latest study, UC Davis researchers analyzed health data for over 113,000 patients who were on opioid therapy for at least 12 months, comparing those who were not tapered to those who had their dose reduced by 15% or more.

Their findings, published in JAMA Network Open, showed that tapering significantly increased hospitalizations and ED visits, while at the same time reducing the number of primary care (PC) visits. Researchers think the latter is at least partially due to “ruptures in relationships” with primary care providers (PCPs) due to patient dissatisfaction with tapering. (Read more at link)

#chronic pain #disability #ableism #opioids #forced tapering #chronic illness #spoonies #article

417 notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 11 months

Text

Sweet confections

Oneshot Summary; Price brought the pastries to 141 as you asked him to, who could’ve thought sweet confections would spur the thoughts of sweet confessions?

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4k

Warnings; relationship-angst, fluff, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: This was originally 2k🙃 Buuuut, I got carried away with delving into Price after seeing a post theorising about his previous dating life and just couldn’t help myself but write a snippet of the morning after their liquor-tasting date when sunshine!reader asked him to bring pastries to the 141 squad from Price's perspective.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

On your first date, you'd brought him to 'the little coffee shop on the corner' you so endearingly called it. It wasn't as much a coffee shop as a bakery, Price remarked then. He even mentioned it the second time you'd come here to buy some bread together for dinner at your place. The third time, he'd shaken his head as he drove and spoke with you over the car's built-in phone, 'I've been working in the little coffee shop on the corner, I can wait for you here and we can go together to mine'.

Most of the space belonged to the bakery, stone ovens and counters to assemble the pastries. The rest was a quaint sitting area, with soft couch-looking seats compared to wooden-legged chairs and tables. Indeed, it was charming, gentle in a sense, concerning the neutral colour schema and warm bakery air.

Now Price stood in the same space smelling like newly baked bread and confectionery. It was early, before seven. Hence, the ovens were on full blast, loaded with loaves of bread and danishes. On the baking counter, cold sweets awaited completion, his presence suspending the process.

"Is that all?" Price's eyes focus on the cashier. According to you, she's the owner. She opened the place a few years ago to keep working with her passion after the official year of retirement, at her own pace and with her own ideas to fulfil a childhood dream.

His eyes fall on the things before her.

The usual for him and the rest of 141 on days likes these, coffees to everyone's taste and something to chew on. None favouring breakfast served on base since Price had brought something from his local place. He could scoff that a single prompted decision turned to habit on days like these when they would gather for meetings ahead of missions.

Usually, he would say yes. But this time, Price's eyes flickered to the right. 'Bring them something sweet in my name', your voice echoed from just 30 minutes earlier.

"I'll take some of those", he nods towards the colourful pastries behind the viewing glass.

"Any particular?" The woman asked. His eyes glide over the confections, some seemingly with a base of berries or other fruits, some with chocolate.

Price isn't too fond of sweets. Consequently, neither invested in what's good or not. Thankfully, he recalls which ones you'd pointed out as your favourites. 'Always taste the new ones when they come', you said when you'd visited the place together. Even if that hadn't been the case, Price would've trusted your tastebuds over his.

"Hm, I'll take two of each", he pointed to three different sweets, not attempting to pronounce their name even though in English. What he knew, or rather remembered, was your description of them. The pink one had a base of pomegranate with some curd, sweet but refreshing. The orange one contained peaches and syrupy cream, honeyed but with a delicate fruitiness. The tan one was some brownie fusion, if you ever want to taste diabetes. He'd chuckled when you explained the taste differences.

"Buying them for your girl?" Price's eyes jumps to the woman, who barely spared him more than an amused look between picking the pastries he'd directed her towards and packing them into small cardboard boxes.

"What?"

"Did your girl make you sleep on the couch after some argument? That's why you're trying to win her over with this?" She nodded to the first box of sweets she placed amongst his order.

You, she was talking about you. Price dipped his head, shaking it with a slight chuckle.

He wasn't startled, per se, that the women recognised him. He'd been here a handful of times in the last few weeks.

If it would've happened in the regular place he usually stops by on the way from his home, he wouldn't have even reacted. It was local, small, an everyone-knew-everyone case sooner rather than later. Although quaint for a city with its cosy inside, this place was still strategically placed on a corner between the juncture of two streets. And that's why Price isn't surprised the woman recognised him but tied him to you in the way she had.

"No, ordered me to bring some to my mates". He knew the woman had scanned him today, taken in his hard-to-misplace attire. Where there earlier only been a question mark, he'd now been placed in the box reading soldier within seconds of turning to face him from where she stood further inside the bakery after having called 'one minute' over her shoulder.

"Smart women, know you boys probably deserve it". She commented in passing, bending down to pack up the second sweet. Price hummed in return. "Hopefully, they'll like them, though I don't second her taste", the woman chuckled more to herself even though Price listened.

From how the woman dearly greeted you by name each time and a short conversation if it wasn't too hectic, he'd quickly gathered you were a regular here, your knowledge for someone who tasted but didn't bake the confectionaries giving it away as well.

"That'll be all?" She repeated the question from earlier when finally boxing up the last pastry. The three boxes were now effectively tied together and pushed together with the rest of his order.

"It'll be all", Price returned, reflecting the woman's smile as he reached to pay.

"Tell her I said hi and that I've got something new on the way for her to look forward to". He raised his elbow in an attempted wave, nodding a goodbye as he exited the bakery.

Not until Price stood at the curbside, a tray of coffees, one letter scribbled in neat handwriting on each cartoon cup, and two rather than one takeaway boxes of something to chew on did he realise he hadn't corrected the women once.

Your girl.

Price looked back inside through the windows lining the wall of the bakery. He couldn't see the women, probably already set off to complete the morning routine he'd interrupted.

Did she take it for granted that you bringing him here meant he was something more than just a date, someone you casually met? Because this wasn't neutral ground but a special place to you?

He faced his car, looking at his reflection.

His girl.

Price huffed, shaking his head and opened his car, placing what he'd bought in the passenger seat. He could only speculate why the woman had assumed you were a couple. But he knew why he hadn't corrected her, why he barely even had cringed at the notion of someone calling you his.

...

When arriving at the base, Price wasted no more time than to gather the mission files he'd had delivered to his office before heading to the scheduled meeting room.

When he pushes the handle down with his elbow, the door to the meeting room swinging open, he finds the rest of 141 inside. With his added appearance, whatever conversation they had halted.

"Morning, Captain", Gaz greets him, to which he nods his silent hello, clearing his hands by placing the things from the bakery on the table they sat around.

"Help yourselves to your usual", Price gestured to the things he'd brought. "And a mission file", he continued as he put down the folders he'd kept beneath his arm when not juggling the other things around.

His men reached forth, each taking the coffee cup with their initials along a sandwich wrapped in plastic foil. At first, their eyes were only swiftly shifted to the added boxes with intrigue until Soap dared to unwrap them, catching a look at what was inside.

"The place from yours gotten sweets now as well, Price?" The Scot looked over with a cocked brown, opening the rest of the boxes without taking more than a swift look down. Of course, Soap would be the one to inspect the boxes standing out from the team's usual orders.

"No, stopped at one in the city". Price shrugged, reaching for his cup of coffee but waiting with his sandwich. He would eat it, knowing you would give him a disapproving look if he didn't, though only later, when the coffee kicked in and made him hungry. The first visit back at base after a leave always does wonders of curbing his appetite.

As the black bitterness of coffee bit his tastebuds, he eyes Gaz as he lean forward, inspecting the boxes Soap opened and picked a pink pastry from. As his sergeant's eyes fell to the contents of the packages, he found the variety the Scot inspected seconds earlier.

"Why the hell the detour?" Gaze's eyes met Price, who took another drink of his coffee before he answered.

"No detour. I was in the city already".

Soap, who'd tasted the sweet he'd picked out and whose eyes rolled, accompanied by a content hum, leaned back in his chair as his attention travelled to Price. "What-", he began, eyes widening a wee bit as they locked with Price's. He doesn't know what the Scot saw, but whatever it was, it stopped his sentence abruptly with a rise of brows, a straightening of his back and a curl of his mouth's edge. "It's the lass, ain't it?"

Price didn't know why he stalled, why the takeaway cup halted in mid-air, why he didn't just say yes.

It wasn't that his men didn't know. It was impossible for them not to. They'd been there the night he met you at the bar. They, or Gaz and Soap, having encouraged him to talk to you when he'd hesitated because why would you be interested in him. Ghost hadn't said anything on the matter, but Price bet he found entertainment in how the Seargents' jabbed at their Captain at something so trivial. And much like pushing his first step, their reaction to seeing the two of you leave together followed the same characteristics.

So no, it would be hard for them not to know about you. And there went one of the reasons Price would hesitate to answer.

"S'pose it can't be anyone else", Price relented. The biggest reason he wouldn't indulge the rest of the fact a dispensed reasoning of keeping you hidden meant safety.

It made Gaz whistle, leaning back with one of the orangey sweets in his hand. Soap drummed his hands against his thighs after inhaling the rest of his small pastry. Ghost shifted in his seat, head cocking, eyes sweeping to inspect the confections the other two men had indulged in fleetingly before his attention returned to Price.

"How's it goin' then? Asked the lass out since last we saw the two of ya disappear in the sunset?" Soap asked, his question prodding for two answers rather than one. But rather than levelling the Scot with a look, something that silently would confirm his suspicions of what happened the night Price drove you home, he leaned back in his chair with a tip of his head.

"We've talked some, met a few times as well". Price took a sip of his coffee as if it would do anything else than exacerbate his nerves upon you being the subject of conversation and the memory you'd more than just talked after some of your dates. "Got those from one of the places we went, some of her favourites".

"Old romantic, you are, Cap". Gaz's comment made Price clear his throat. It was followed by a 'yeah, yeah' muttered under his breath almost bashfully.

"Well, I'd say the lass is rubbin' of good on ya", Soap steered the conversation in his ever-present direction of jest on topics like this. "Ain't all time our dear Captain spoils us with such sudden acts of kindness", the Scot reached forth, picking one of the chocolaty treats this time with a smug look and a glint in his eyes towards Price.

He can't help but roll his eyes at the jab. "It's her spoilin' you, not me. Ordered me to buy some for you lot as a greeting".

That made Soap's signature grin form. "The lass orderin' you around already, Price?"

"The real question is why he's accepting it. He doesn't like us bossing him around and barely any higher-ups as well", Gaz stated, lightly elbowing the Scot at his side with a chuckle, the latter joining in agreement.

"Did the request come this morning?" Ghost pulls his attention away from his snickering Seargents.

With his eyes settled on the man who'd been quiet until this moment, Price knew his Lieutenant didn't ask the question because he needed the answer, only the confirmation. If anything was Ghost's forte, it was gathering the scattered pieces of information dropped throughout the chat, what’s between the lines, enough to build a picture of what went on behind the scenes.

Price clocked that for the veteran, who'd nursed his coffee with sparing sips and lifts of his mask, there'd been enough details throughout the conversation for him to flesh out the parts left untold. The knowing look reflected in Ghost's dark eyes exposing it as well.

"We went out yesterday, stayed the night", Price brushed off. Knowing Ghost, he'd say there's a smile hidden beneath the mask, equally as smug as those visible and directed at him from the other two men.

"Starting to think you don't want to indulge us, Cap", Gaz pointed out. "It seems to be going very well between you two".

"Aye, Price, when will we meet ya lass again?" At Soap's question, the morning flashed before Price's eyes.

He'd woken up before you. No need for an alarm that Price was scared would wake you up in the process and he would hurry to shut off. The military had since long engrained the early hours in the back of his mind.

He'd woken with a blink of his eyes rather than a slow descent from slumber, immediately noting that during the night, the two of you had shifted to something more comfortable for sleeping than the previous cuddling. Your back was towards him, a little gap between you. Even so, his arm draped over your waist, and your warmth reached his front angled towards you.

Price had dragged his hand lightly down to your hip, feeling the skin beneath the oversized shirt you'd gone to sleep with, but his hand managed to sneak beneath nonetheless. When his palm settled on the curve of your hip, your skimpy panties beneath his skin, he'd pushed up on his elbow.

His eyes had travelled over your face, or what could be seen of it as your arm partly covered it, checking if you were awake even though your breathing already suggested you weren't. Noting your stillness, Price made his way out of bed slow to not stir you.

Dressing into his jeans and shirt felt wrong as he watched you continue to sleep soundly. He wanted to stay for a few more moments, press close to your back, bury his head in your nape, and linger in the moment. But he knew his willpower to go to base and hold the meeting he was supposed to would wain if witnessing you slowly coming to in his arms.

Price had debated how to leave your flat and fetch the things in his car without getting locked outside. He just brought your keys with him in the end, deciding against leaving the door ajar behind him, concerned for your safety despite the second gate out to the street.

He didn't meet anyone as he went down to his car and up again, allowing Price to wallow in the lingering warmth of your body close to his as he pulled his jacket tight around him in solace. Despite being summer, it wasn't warm in the mornings, crisp and slightly chilly until the rays peeks over the edges of roofs.

A feeling that hadn't been present in a long time, not a genuine one, at least, settled in his bones as he walked through your home with his bag slung over his shoulder. Domestic, his thoughts supplied a label to the feelings growing in his bones, muscles and every fleshly part of him as he slowed his pace past your bedroom, the door open enough that he spotted your sleeping figure beneath the covers.

It lingered as Price had taken a shower, using the towel hanging beneath yours on the rack when done. He'd stopped asking what towel to use just a week before, as a second joined your smaller one near the sink and one by your body towel.

He'd felt something warm enter him when he first noticed the newly added additions, even more so when he'd asked about it to be entirely sure and your head had popped into the opening. Explaining almost shyly you thought he should have his own from how often he's been staying overnight, and so he doesn't need to ask every time.

And since then, Price had become used to moving around your apartment without you by his side. Something about you giving him permanent things at your place erased that 'stranger' feeling one had before getting comfortable in someone else's space.

That's why, when he'd crouched by the side of your bed this morning, dressed in clothes portraying such a different reality to what he felt like this fever-induced daydream was, Price couldn't wait for you to prove that this wasn't just a morbid fantasy created under the influence of morphine taken to ease the pain of a nasty wound, one he was too incoherent to remember.

You'd shown him a part of yourself, your most intimate space, your home, to him, making him comfortable here. He could relax when stepping over your threshold. Knowing he stepped into your world. And yet, everything feels tied to you, not him. That's why he invited you over to his place, wanting not only to see your reaction to stepping into his world but seeing you in his home would settle the anxiety gnawing at his bones. Or so he hoped.

Price felt his fingers, which rested on his thigh, twitch. He wanted to reach for the phone in his pocket and settle the plans for the weekend that were coming with a quick text, even though it was only Monday.

He sighed at himself, remembering correcting the faulty phrase concerning you and his relationship, even though it came from someone much closer and who knew more about his relation to you. "She ain't my girl".

"Why? The two of ya already act like a pair, it seems". Price's eyes flickered to the pastries' Soap motion to, or more so, the significance behind them.

"They've known each other for a month, Johnny". Ghost's comment eases his nerves.

Yes, he'd gotten to know you well over a month. Outside 141 and his nearest circle within work, you were the one he felt the closest to. He'd caught himself entertaining the idea, not only upon talking with the lady at the bakery and now with the men surrounding him, but this morning when he'd walked around in the silence of your flat. He didn't dislike the idea of enjoying his or someone's space together with the other. But it was the first time he liked someone enough to tie into that future.

You brought so much for Price to look forward to, but most of all, you were the embodiment of comfort. Just your presence was enough for him to relax, let his shoulders drop and the tension in his neck ease. That's why it felt right spending time with you, why Price didn't think even a second about how much time you'd spent together despite meeting a month ago.

And yet, today, this morning, made him hesitant to go too fast forward, to let the previous night and this morning make him let go of all reins and fall headfirst into whatever this was.

Today this life, the one his occupation as a Captain of a task force entailed, merged just slightly with the reality he'd created with you on his leave.

You knew he was military, SAS, but neither of you mentioned his work, the topic not easily slid into, despite that you'd explained your job in more detail. It would've been more than right of him to do so in return, but explaining and talking about his profession was one of few included in general parentheses.

There was only so much he could clarify about the field he operated in. And legally, he couldn't disclose much about the task force either. If you hadn't known they were military the night you met and he hadn't gotten to know you'd dabbled in his field of work, he probably wouldn't have mentioned many of the things he had. He didn't keep it a secret, not the basics, but neither was Price one to bring it up in conversations.

Still, you stayed. After everything told and not, you were still here. You wanted him, or so Price assumed since the first night you'd met.

He assumed it wasn't simply feigned interest you'd shown when you'd concerned yourself of what haunted his mind when on leave. He assumed, that when he'd seen the gears turn in your head of how you could voice your questions without overstepping, it was from the sincere concern of doing so, not a forced attempt at seeming friendly. He assumed, that when you so sweetly looked at him only to say in that purred voice that you wanted to help him relax, it didn't only mean for the night.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have entertained him for this long. Yet again, that was what he thought. However, what Price knew what that he needed to give you something to work with. You couldn't support him without him relenting something about himself, this side of him.

He didn't blame his previous partners for his fleeting relationships. Not entirely. He'd remained strict with letting too much spill too early, knowing how some may react, how they try to pull away gracefully. Somehow it was a test, an unintentional one but a test nonetheless. And the answer didn't come until after his first deployment, when he found out how his supposed partner reacted to his previous emotional distance and later physical disappearance. A test of boundaries, one could call it.

And concerning it was only a few weeks more until his first one with you, he thought about it. A lot.

Price shook his head. He blinked, eyes refocusing, noticing his gaze had gotten stuck to the pastries on the table. As his eyes flickered up, he found that Soap and Ghost still exchanged arguments.

"Shouldn't stop him from askin' the lass if it feels right", the Scot said, arms now crossed over his chest, his shoulders resting against the backrest of his chair, spine curved.

"Can't rush", was all the masked Brit responded with, along with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Enough of his. Let's get on with the meetin'", Price interrupted, effectively ending the conversation. None of the others argued, noticing it was their Captain rather than Price commanding them to drop the subject as he opened the mission file before him.

Nevertheless, as they started the meeting, Price couldn't help that Soap's and Ghost's arguments replayed in the silence. Neither how you entered his mind when listening to the others discuss the details of the OP. It never overtook his attention, but it lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing away at the nerves in his inner skull.

After this mission, Price thought, he'll see how you've held up and maybe have a conversation with you.

He didn't like making promises he wasn't sure could be kept. But, this one, that he would come back to speak with you about it, he would go above and beyond to keep. Because it felt different this time, he longed coming back to you before even shipping off.

209 notes · View notes