Chapter Text
Not every ED case needs an ortho consult, but almost everything than needs orthopedics comes though the ED first. And while a consult of that nature can be done by three people in the hospital, Dr Park has taken it upon himself to respond to all Pages in the last couple of days.
You've enjoyed being a supportive background to Brendon's consults, watching him stalk into a room, catching his gaze as you pass by, and stifling a snort every time he turned his glare to an intern and they flinched. If the situation allowed you near him, you've noticed Brendon curving his shoulder, making space for you to work or walk by, every time he was around. You thought you bumped his elbow as naturally, as inconspicuously as you could, but such a large man, in both legend and size, bumping you back every time was really easy to spot.
"-He caught a rat on his first day!"
Your feet stuttered abruptly as you heard Trinity talking to Joy, a recent addition MS3, as she pointed a finger at Whittaker behind her.
"Sorry what?" you said, pausing your journey to the supply closet.
Santos's brows raised, like she remembered she could use all the older stories on a new person, "Huckleberry's first day, last year-"
Whittaker groaned, "We don't have to-"
"-Caught a rat in the middle of the Pitt, and snapped it's neck with zero hesita-" Trinity continued on, raising her voice to cover his protests.
"A rat…?" you mumbled, looking between them, "Are you serious? why were there rats here in the first-"
The Red phone in Dana's hands slammed down, cutting you off as she yelled out an ETA for the ambulance. Dennis was the first to bounce up, using the chance to avoid the entire conversation, and rush towards the bay doors.
You mouthed Rats?! at Perlah from across the hub with wide-eyed disbelief, and she nodded slowly, like that was the least dramatic story within the past year.
As you stood at a terminal, going through Joy's charts with her to confirm the supplies used in her care, the ambulance declared five minutes ago arrived, spilling two EMTs and a gurney through the glass doors.
"Male, 10, ATV accident 20 minutes ago," EMT dictated while holding the boy's arm steadily against the gurney, "thrown, landed on right hand, GCS 15, alert and responsive."
You watched the young boy try to stifle his tears as Dennis introduced himself with a gentle tone, smoothly pushing forwards to the trauma bay. Bridget passed by you, calling the Radiology for the portable X-ray, expertly predicting the doctor's next requests, and you follow her lead, ensuring that supplies for several types of splints are stocked and easily reachable.
"-Deformity and swelling on the right wrist, palpable radial pulse, sensation is intact," The handoff continued as you walked around the EMTs while they took their gurney out.
After setting up the supply carts, you saw the boy's eyes frantically jumping between the doctors, and approached his uninjured side.
"Graham?" You gently leaned towards his head, covering most of the movement around him and telling him your name, "I know it looks scary, but we know exactly what to do, and we've done it 43 times."
You smiled softly when he blinked, registering the number. You always find it's much more trustworthy and comforting than having your doctors tell you they've done it a hundred times, the specific number made ten year old Graham's eyes snap to yours in surprise. He reached out his left hand towards you, and you responded by wrapping it in your fingers.
"I want my mom," he mumbled with quivering lips.
You made sure not to look behind you and nodded, "Someone is calling her right now, I'll be right here until she comes, ok?"
He nodding joltily, and you continued to talk to him with your other hand sweetly on his head while Bridget set up the IV for pain medication. Behind you, Jesse started the page phone and put it to his ear.
"Jesse is calling the coolest bone expert to come look at your wrist," you whispered as if it was a secret only for him.
"Cool like Spiderman?" The boy whispered back.
"More like Batman."
"Scary cool?"
You snorted, "yeah, kid."
Graham nodded, wide-eyed, "cool."
Garcia was almost at the elevators when Park intercepted, her eyes sharpened as she eyed him suspiciously when he stepped into the metal room in her stead. It's a small wrist injury, Her face said, likely a simple reduction. He made sure his face didn't shift as he nodded at her while the doors closed between them.
Brendon knew he has reached a point where the steps he was taking are giving him away, but he couldn't convince himself of behaving any other way. There was also the the point that there really was nothing to hide. He was never a man to be shy or embarrassed about himself once he was clear about what he wanted. Above that, Brendon's mother taught him very well how to not care what others thought of him.
"Dr Park," CN Evans glanced up from behind the nurses station.
"I've been paged."
"Of course you have," Dana muttered as if to herself before pointing back behind her, "South 15."
Brendon headed there with a slight furrow in his brow. His eyes roamed around Central and South, not tagging onto anything, until he reached the open door of South 15. You sat on one side of a bed, chatting with a little boy. Your smile was infectious every time it graced your cheeks, the kid responding with a toothy grin.
It was the same smile when you looked up and caught his figure in the doorway, but the subtle squint and lift of your cheeks told him this one was for him alone.
Before he could say anything to start, the child on the bed gaped at him, letting out a small gasp. It made the dimple below your cheekbone appear, like it does when you're straining not to laugh.
"Graham, this is Dr Park," you leaned an elbow on the bed then whispered, "Batman bone expert."
The boy's mouth made a surprised but silent O as he stared at Brendon.
"Dr Park," You addressed him as you stood up, "Graham, 10 years old, Displaced distal radius fracture."
Brendon nodded, eyes unconsciously softening for you, then he smiled at the boy and asked him to explain what happened. As he explained in a small voice, how his ATV was going fast and had hit a patch of rocks unexpectedly throwing him clean off it's seat, You went around the bed to Park's side and offered him the waiting x-ray images.
He took the tablet from your hands, brushing fingertips for a moment. Brendon blinked again at the blue-black pictures while his mind was filled for a split-second with your familiar scent. Sweet, leaning more towards earth and plants than flowers, and warm like holding a heated mug in the winter. He glanced down at your elbow as it touched his bicep gently, before you walked back to the IV side.
Dr Whittaker came through the door in a hurry, likely panicked at finding Dr Park in the room before he was there to present the case, "Dr Park-"
Brendon postured up to full height, folded his arms, and gave him a blank stare. He could almost feel you laughing under your breath. When his eyes followed the young doctor towards the patient, he found the boy's eyes still on him.
Brendon's nieces never made him feel like he had to be soft for them, or different, they know him inside and out, and love to poke at him even when he uses his scary face. Since he had no other child interactions, he realized he might be actually scaring this one. So when Whittaker turned his back to him, hunching over the the injured wrist to check the bloodflow, he winked.
Graham's smile was fast and toothy.
"I saw that," you teased him as you walked with him towards the elevators.
A closed reduction in the ED room, with light anesthesia, was a very common procedure, you've just never seen Brendon like that before.
After breaking the scary facade, Park performed the reduction with swift, practiced hands, taking care to check the arm and the post-Xrays before splinting. His voice was gentle with Graham, deep and clear. He used simple terms, talked to the boy like it was important for him to understand the different areas of function in his arm, explained the reduction with no sugarcoating, but more reassurance of his "bone expertise".
It tugged at your heart strings to see the little boy look up at Brendon and smile so freely, it brought an awed smile to your face too.
"Batman bone expert?" He gravely repeated your words.
"I think you missed me," You laughed as you both reached the elevator doors.
Brendon looked forward at the reflection the two of you made on the metal doors, and pressed the button, "You're getting too used to things down here, it's not good for you."
He said it in one burst, and you caught the uptick in the corners of his lips.
"Oh?" You bantered, as the doors opened and he walked in, "Abbot said they should keep me."
Brendon's head shook explicitly even before you finished your sentence, the line between his brows deepening, "Not happening."
You watched him tuck his hands behind his back in front of you, eyes looking deeply into yours, "No?"
His smirk broke through as the elevator doors started sliding shut.
"No."
Brendon had walked with you towards the park bench that night, and sat to listen to you ramble about Faulty machines, arguments, and rats in the ED, while you devoured the breakfast sandwich. He just sat with you, with his hands in his jacket pockets and legs outstretched, like there was nothing else to do, nowhere else to be.
When you were ready to head home, he grabbed the empty paper bag from you and led you to his car while you sipped your coffee. It felt so warm, being around him, and even with iced coffee in you hand, you had a feeling you'll always be warmed by his presence.
Your dating experience was abysmal at best, a couple of attempts in school and none lasting more than a few months. Your last was a year-long disappointment a few years ago, after which you stopped trying. Perhaps you were preoccupied with grief for a long time, or with an almost completely full schedule, but it hadn't crossed your mind to go back to looking, dating.
That's what made you fidget in Brendon's car on the way home. How were you supposed to start? You were positive you almost-flirted with him once or twice, but maybe that counted as joking? You've always been talkative and smiley, but with him there's more weight to it. With him, smiling filled your lungs up with joy, and talking made you feel heard, understood.
"Thanks for the ride, Ben," you sighed, leaning your head against the headrest as he slowed the car near your house.
Brendon stopped the car and relaxed his hands on the steering wheel, turning his attention to you, eye's catching the slow blinks and the dropped shoulders, "you should get some rest."
His eyes link to yours slowly, tender and unhurried, lips smiling. You beamed at him and reached a hand to his face, palm against his warm cheek. Not knowing how to start was simple, you decided, the only way out is to start.
Your grounding scent spilled over him before he registered your face coming closer. The hand against his cheek steadied gently, thumb caressing the skin under his eye. Brendon wondered for a moment if you could feel the pounding of his pulse there as much as he could hear it in his ears.
With a lingering smile and lowering eyelids, you leaned over and pressed your lips high on his other cheek. The slightest, most careful touch, like the skin under your lips was something to be treasured, something you hold dear.
Brendon closed his eyes, feeling your nose against his hairline. His arm curled behind your shoulder, pressing his big hand on your lower back.
A faint pop sounded when your lips left his heated face, and it was almost insulting how fleeting the moment was. Even with how slow you moved, it was over before Brendon's heart had it's fill.
"Good night, Brendon," your breath grazed his face as you whispered.
He moved his hand up to the back of your neck, face still an inch before yours and eyes stuck on your lips. His finger squeezed comfortingly into the muscles of your neck, "Good night, Doll."
His immediate thought just then was that he should've known to use that sooner, because the blush welling up on either side of your face was visibly pink, because your lashes fluttered and you inhaled shortly. He might have not noticed had you not come so close when he chose to call you Doll. It felt like a secret cheat code unlocked.
When you managed to remove your legs from the seat, casually pretending you didn't want to burst into flames from being in his car, you walked up your front steps. Turning back to wave lightly, you saw Brendon step out from behind the car, broad shoulders in a black bomber-jacket, long legs taking him closer to the bottom step.
You turned your body fully towards him, tilting your head with a smile, "do you-"
"Take a day off tomorrow."
His smile was still there, small and almost shy, with his gaze never straying from your face as he stood before you.
"Hm?" You huffed slightly, "oh, I'm ok, Bren. I've worked 18 hours before."
"That's not- well, yes, you should rest," He chuckled lightly, "But I was going to ask you to go out with me."
Your next retort stuttered to a stop and your jaw snapped shut. Brendon exhaled audibly, visibly relieved at having let out the question. He was even bouncing on his heels, like he knew what that does to you. Your hands fiddled with your bag straps on your shoulder, stalling to find a regulated breath over the pounding of your heart.
"Rendered you speechless, have I-"
"-Really?"
Both of you spoke at the same time, then stopped to share a breathy laugh.
"Yes, really," Brendon teased, "That's your response? really?"
You gaped at him dramatically, "Don't judge me, I was gearing up to ask you!"
"I think I caught on to that," he tipped his chin towards his car.
You smiled, chest feeling tight with excitement, and dropped your bag by the door as you stepped back down the stairs, "Did you?"
Brendon shook his head, feigning disappointment with his furrowed brows, and stepped closer so that his shoes touched the base of the step you were on, "I couldn't believe you beat me to it."
At eye level, You watched his teasing and suave words exposed by the flush creeping over his ears and neck. His hands slowly lifted, first to your forearms, then up your arms to your neck. Warm and calloused as they landed on your skin gently. Steadying your hands on his chest, having longed to press your palms on it for long enough, you shifted closer, closed-mouthed smile dimpled and shy.
Brendon's eyes jumped between yours, watching your face intently, and he cocked his head slightly. You slid your hands up to his collar, and nodded minimally, your focus dropping to his lips.
The air hitched low in your throat, the air in his stuttered out. Then your face was tenderly adorned between his palms, almost too careful, like you were something cherished. To be framed not pressed.
You lips met Brendon's in a sweet kiss, both sides almost curling with smiles.
The warmth from before enveloped you in this irrisistable tide, one you knew you'd never want to let pass you by.