Work Text:
Ada was exhausted. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but lately getting through her shifts had felt like slogging through chest-deep water in a raging flood. Her body was aching. The dull, throbbing pain of a headache had been needling at the inside of her skull since noon. As she made her way down the hall, her stomach growled insistently like it had been for the past several hours.
Oh. Right.
She stopped in front of the vending machine with a heavy sigh and picked out a bag of chips and a can of orange soda. Not exactly a proper meal, but it would have to do. She set off in the direction of her office, already anticipating the blissful peace and quiet. All of the patients were settled for the moment, and she wanted nothing more than to eat her chips and stare at the wall and not think about anything at all for a little while.
She shuffled into her office, shutting the door behind her, and then stopped dead in her tracks. On her desk sat a perfectly pristine ham sandwich, wrapped in plastic. She stared at it, baffled.
“Am I finally losing it...?” she muttered to herself. Maybe she had at last reached her breaking point and this sandwich was a stress-induced hallucination. It would honestly be stranger if it was real. She half-wondered if it was poisoned. Was Edega finally trying to do away with her?
No, that was stupid. She thought for a moment, turning the sandwich over in her hand. There were only a couple other people who had access to her office, and her prime suspect was currently on break in the basement.
—
“Ian.”
Ian offered a hum of acknowledgment without looking away from his game. She dropped the sandwich on his desk with a small plap, causing him to startle and finally pause it. He looked up at her, down at the sandwich, and then back at her again.
“Do you not like ham?”
Ada blew out a frustrated breath through her teeth.
“No, it's my favorite. But—”
“Oh, good. It was your favorite in college, too.” Ian nodded to himself as if that was that, turning back to his computer.
“Ian…” She sighed. “Look, it's really sweet of you and all, but I don't need you taking care of me, okay? You have enough on your plate already without having to worry about...feeding me.”
“But I want to.”
“...Why?”
Ian shifted uncomfortably in his seat and avoided her gaze, drumming his fingers anxiously against the desk. Ada frowned.
“Ian?”
“You...uh...you've been losing weight,” he said softly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I—I didn't know how to bring it up.”
Ada blinked, processing his words. Have I? She tried to think back to the last time she had seen herself in a mirror. She supposed that maybe she had been looking a little gaunt lately, and it was true that she often skipped meals, but...she had always figured that going hungry sometimes was just part of the job.
“Oh. I guess I...I hadn't noticed.” She was surprised that Ian had. Maybe he just knew her too well.
“I—I know you never really have time to buy groceries, or cook, or anything. And—and I don't see you eating much during your breaks either.” He fidgeted with the scroll wheel on his computer mouse, staring down at his keyboard. “And…then you had that fainting spell the other day. So I just...worry.”
Ada cringed. The fainting incident had been extremely embarrassing. She had grown woozy in the middle of a check-up with Mrs. Stevenson, and woke up on the floor to a frantic Ian fretting over her and a very unimpressed cockatiel sitting on her head.
“I just—I don't have much time to eat at work. The patients—”
He gazed up at her with his brow furrowed.
“Well…when do you have time to eat?”
Her stomach growled unhelpfully, and she wrapped an arm self-consciously around her middle.
“…When’s the last time you ate something?” Ian asked softly.
“This morning, before work,” Ada mumbled. Ian raised an eyebrow. “At…five AM.”
She had stumbled out of bed to the sound of her alarm and eaten a cold toaster waffle from the fridge without actually toasting it, but he didn't need to know that.
“Ada.” Ian sternly checked his watch. “It is now five PM. That’s a whole twelve hours.”
Ada huffed irritably.
“I know how to tell time, Ian.” She stubbornly tried to ignore the fact that her stomach currently felt like it was consuming itself. Her head was throbbing. Her throat was sandpaper-dry, and she wished briefly that she hadn't left her soda back in her office. Ian frowned.
“Then—then why won’t you just take the sandwich?”
Her insides prickled uncomfortably, and her frustration finally bubbled over.
“I—just—because I’m not a little kid, okay?!” she snapped. “I don’t need you making sandwiches for me.”
Ian blinked at her in surprise, taken aback by her tone. She was immediately flooded with guilt. What’s wrong with you? she scolded herself. He’s only trying to help. She dragged both of her hands down her face, pushing her glasses up onto her forehead.
“No, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I…”
“That’s…that’s okay.” Ian only looked thoughtful. Ada stared at her feet, face hot with shame. She wanted to sink into the floor and dissolve into atoms and maybe disappear for a week or two. She was ridiculously hungry and it was incredibly distracting, which only served to make her more embarrassed. She was fairly certain she could feel her headache developing into a full-blown migraine.
“You, um…you don’t have to eat the sandwich,” Ian said finally. “But…I would feel a lot better if you did.”
That same guilt tugged at her heartstrings. Ada sighed.
“Well, I...at least let me do something for you, too. Can I buy you coffee or something?”
Ian tilted his head a little.
“If I let you buy me coffee, will you eat the sandwich?”
“...Yes, I'll eat the sandwich.”
“Okay. Good.” He gave her one of his rare genuine smiles, and she smiled back in spite of herself. After a moment, he turned back to his game. Ada took her glasses off and buried her face in his hair with a soft fwump, gently folding her arms on top of his head. She felt him twist his head around to try and look at her before he gave up and simply reached up to pat her hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“Mhm.”
“Where’d you get the stuff to make it, anyway?”
“Oh. I ran down to the corner store.”
Ada opened her eyes.
“Just now?”
There was a small, colorful flash on Ian’s screen as his character shot a burst of magic at an enemy. She felt him shrug awkwardly.
“Well, I—I’m on break and I was picking up some stuff for my mom. And…I figured you hadn't eaten today. So…”
A warm rush of affection swelled in Ada’s chest.
“Thanks, Ian.” She smiled a little. “Just…ask me first next time, okay? No more mystery sandwiches.”
He chuckled softly.
“Noted.”
She turned her head to the side and blew out an exhausted sigh that ruffled his messy hair.
“Tired?” he asked.
“And...hungry,” she mumbled sheepishly. Her stomach growled again. Ian held up the sandwich and waggled it in front of her face without looking away from his computer screen.
“Sandwich.”
Ada let out a breathy laugh, and took it.
“Okay.”