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Jean knew from the second he saw him that he was in trouble. Oh boy, was he screwed.
Being a nurse was tough enough. There were long nights of standing on your feet and constantly moving. He forgot what it felt like to have a social life and free time. When he's not working, he's sleeping or catching up on missed meals. At least four people per shift came in with something weird or bizarre or just above and beyond that makes him wonder why he ever became a nurse. And then there was the mocking by certain irritating coworkers for being a male nurse, but he didn't let it get to him unless he was off the clock. Most of the time.
But it's not always too bad. The children that come into the ER are usually frightened until he talks to them, and their smiles light up with reassurance. He keeps a few toys in his pocket just in case they're in need of something to occupy their minds. Afterwards, he'll hand them a lollipop for being so brave. For the elderly, he listens to their requests and their stories and provides them with comfort and company. And then there's the new doctor who's tall and dark and handsome as all hell, whose laugh is the equivalent of jingling bells.
It's not always too bad.
He was new, and his name was Marco Bodt. He smelled like apples and used a pen with a yellow smiley face on the cap. He was friendly to everyone he ran into, constantly smiling and talking. Jean thought he was the kindest, most beautiful soul to ever walk his way. And so did every other person in their wing.
"Did you notice that he doesn't have a wedding ring on his finger?" One of the nurses whispered to the receptionist, who giggled behind her hand.
"I saw him looking at you yesterday."
Jean was standing a few feet away, his stomach churning at the comments and continued giggling. Maybe he wasn't married; maybe he wasn't checking her out. Maybe he didn't have a chance. But he enjoyed being around the doctor, no matter how brief it was.
Later that same day, when he was walking into the breakroom, he ran straight into the doctor himself, and he was forced to look up at the man or else walk into his chest. Jean's breath caught and stumbled back, eyes wide. Marco gave a small "oh" and grinned in greeting.
"Hi Jean!" Marco stepped back instantly and waved his arm forward in welcome. "Going on your break?"
Jean walked forward—though it was more of a nervous scuffle, to be honest—and nodded uneasily. "Y-yeah," he replied. "I, ah, I've been on my feet since four." It was eight-forty now. The coffee he had gulped down two hours ago was not enough, an affect that was nothing new to him at this point in his career.
"Oh wow. You're really trucking it, huh?" Jean didn't say anything, but he nodded, a feeling of meekness brewing in his stomach. His hand shook to pull out a snack from the cabinet. "Well, I hope you have a good break! Your shift ends at one, right?"
"That's the plan." Sasha was a nice girl, but she had a habit of not checking in when she was supposed to, for one reason or another. More often than not, it messed with his mood.
Marco grinned and winked at him. "Just a few more hours then!"
He left before Jean could let out a long sigh and fall against the fridge. This man was going to give him heart problems.
There was a little girl with a broken arm, no older than six. She gripped her injured arm at the wrist, away from the break. Her fathers stayed by her side, assuring her that everything was alright. Jean was already heading over to her as soon as he was given the report. They knew where his specialty strayed, and nothing stopped him from going to her.
"Hey there," he greeted the girl with a smile, nodding at the parents in greeting. "What's your name?"
"Annie," she mumbled. His presence only seemed to make her more nervous.
"The doctor's gonna come by to tell you about your arm, okay Annie?" Annie nodded. "Can I check your vitals?"
Annie looked over at her dads, the shorter who nodded in confirmation. She gave Jean the same confirmation.
"Thank you." This time, she returned a faint smile as he went to work, but he paused before he started. "Oh, I almost forgot." He dug in his pockets to pull out two toys: a firetruck from the left, and a small stuffed mouse that was big enough to fit into his pocket. "Which would you like?"
Annie took the mouse happily, dabbing it along her legs and Jean's arms while he took her vitals and maneuvered around her. Her fathers—whose names Jean learned as Reiner and Bertolt—were relieved to see her relaxed. He didn't even realize that someone else had showed up with them until he heard a quiet laugh behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Marco, arms crossed casually, smiling warmly at Jean.
If it was possible for his brain to shut off and still somehow function, then it was surely happening at that moment.
"Uhh." Jean rotated around to the fathers and Annie, and back to Marco. He gulped around a rough lump in his throat. Shit. "Hah. The, ah, doctor has your, uhh, report." He nodded firmly and started to head out, but Marco shook his head and stepped forward.
"You can stay! There's enough room in here for all of us." And he walked forward so that he blocked the way, and his hand brushed against Jean's—for a very brief, most likely imagined second. It couldn't have been real.
Whatever Marco said to Annie and her dads went completely over Jean's head. He saw his mouth move, and he saw the reactions it got, but he didn't understand a single thing. The spot where his hand had nudged against his tingled, craving more of the touch and going beyond the state of desire. Oh boy.
Annie was set up with a treatment—a firm cast to set and heal the bones properly—and Jean let her keep the mouse. When she was done, Jean let her choose from a collection of lollipops. And once she got approval from her fathers, she happily picked the bright green and cheers'ed for a quick recovery.
Marco was filling something out at reception when Jean walked by to discard the lollipops back in the jar he kept them in. The receptionist handed it over to him from its spot, tucked away from anyone's knowledge or sight. He kept one in his pocket, just in case.
"You know, I've never actually seen it up close until now," Marco said, still filling out the form in front of him, "but you have a gift."
Jean nearly hopped at the sound of his voice, but he calmed himself down quickly. A few of the others behind the desk, nurse or secretary, were ogling Marco. He didn't seem to notice. "By checking vitals?"
Marco chuckled and looked up at him. "With kids. The little girl, Annie, looked a lot calmer than when she came in, apparently."
"Oh. Y-yeah." He cleared his throat and nodded firmly. "I used to be terrified of hospitals when I was younger, so I know how that feels. I figured it'd be easier to help them out. And the parents are happy, too, so…" Without anything to do, due to his tied tongue, Jean nodded once more. "Everyone wins."
"Impressive work." He gave a winning smile. "Do you have any extra lollipops, by the way? For a little boost?"
Jean's hand clamped against his shirt pocket, stumbling to get the pop out. "O-oh, uhh, sure, yeah." He managed to tug it out and handed it over.
Marco smiled and took it in his hand, but not without wrapping around Jean's hand and lingering a moment longer than necessary. Jean's heart rammed into his throat, his eyes unwavering from the shining pair of hazelnut that kept his gaze. There was a type of innocence, an unsure twirl of emotions that had no idea what to do, or if he was doing good, or if he was trespassing. Jean hoped that he was portraying something similar—please see it please see it please see it—the fear, the unknown, the hope—
Marco took the lollipop in his hand, pocketing it with a nod. He looked away, scratched under his nose, and laughed quietly. "Thanks."
Jean only nodded, waiting until he turned back to his paperwork, before he walked away.
When he clocked out and went to his locker, he found a flower tucked into the slates on the outside and a Post-It note attached to the stem. Thanks for the lollipop :) Date? A phone number was written down, followed by Bodt, M.D.
Jean might have been in trouble. But at least he had a companion to stumble along with.