Work Text:
God, this shift has sucked. Everything that could go wrong, seems to be going wrong. Robby was an ass today, and Frank and him were so… awkward together. It made things hard at the Pitt today, on top of a regular day at the ER with injuries and mental health crises.
Your binder was rubbing awkwardly against your ribs, like heavy claws around your lungs. Your mind felt fuzzy and odd, in a way you couldn’t quite describe. A lump is in your throat, and has been for almost an hour. Actually, the lump has been there since someone dropped a bedpan behind you, the crash sending a shockwave through your body. And now, after the day was handed off to night shift, you stood in the locker room, eyes feeling blurry and head filled with fuzz.
The locker room was a welcome break after the hell of a shift had just happened. Your hands shake as you slip on a hoodie, your ribs screaming, and you know you need a break. Binders on a 12 hour shift certainly aren’t recommended by any experts. You’re so distracted, you don’t even hear someone slipping inside behind you.
~~~
Mel could see you were struggling all day, your eyes downcast and shoulders hunched. She could see your hands heaving over your ribs every once in a while, and it confused her. But after shift, she wanted to check on you. So she slips into the locker room behind you, to see if you’re okay.
“Uh, hey.” Mel says, catching your attention, her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
You whip around, eyes wide and shocked, until you see it’s just Mel.
“H-hey Mel.” You mumble, and you’re a little shocked how small your voice sounds.
Mel’s eyebrows furrow. Your voice is definitely… small. That’s the best way to describe it. Meek, like you’re nervous.
“Are you okay? I know shift was… sort of hard today.” Mel asks, hoping to gently coax you out of your shell. She again notices your hands rubbing your ribs, and it only concerns her more.
As soon as she asks if you’re okay, the lump grows bigger in your throat. The words catch painfully, even as you try to explain. You’re hit with the sudden and shocking notion that… you want your blanket. Tears well in those pretty eyes of yours, and all that comes out is a stuttering sob.
Mel blinks, taken aback for a moment. But her body catches up with her mind swiftly, and she softly leads you to sit on the bench in the locker room. She has a few small thought of what might be happening, but she won’t push just yet.
“Come on buddy, it’s okay. Just- just breathe for me.” She whispers quietly, and secretly prays nobody comes into the locker room right now. Not when she’s holding such a fragile boy in her hands.
“I don’t feel good” You sob, chest heaving. It’s hard to decipher all these thoughts, wanting childish things. Like suddenly watching cartoons with a soft blanket could fix it all.
“I see that.” Mel replies, voice quiet. She knows now, she hears that small voice. You’re just a little boy right now, even if you’re still confused on the origin of what’s happening.
“Do you wanna go home?” She coaxes quietly. When you nod your head with a desperate nod, she smiles softly. She knew about age regression, she had quite an interest in unconventional coping skills. But it seems as though this was an involuntary slip down. She grabs your hand gently, with a soft squeeze, and she pulls you to your feet.
Your legs feel like jelly almost, and you grip her hand like a boy to his mother, and she leads you out of the ER exit. She keeps pace with you, even when it feels like you’re walking so much slower than usual. Once again, she notices your hands on your ribs.
“Do your ribs hurt?” She questions softly, looking over at you.
“My binder” You mumble, stumbling slightly as you walk. At least your apartment is only a few blocks from the ER.
Her face does a small expression, a realization of sorts, before she smiles again, still holding your hand. She hadn’t known you were trans, but she’s glad you told her now.
“We’re gonna get that off at home, okay?” She says, while making sure she’s keeping you steady as you both walk together. Mel steers you gently to the entrance of your apartment, and helps you up the stairs. She fishes your keys out of your pocket and opens your door.
You stand there, like a limp doll, and just let her steer you into the living room, where your couch is. Mel quickly takes stock of your apartment. A typical one for a young man your age, a little boring but funnily enough, it fits you perfectly.
“Hey, we’re gonna have to take that binder off, okay?” She asks, hands resting on your shoulders as you sit on the couch. You make a small whimper of protest, but nod eventually.
“My ribs hurt” You mumble, and she coos softly. She’s always been a natural caretaker, and you being like this pulls on her heart.
“I know. I’m gonna take your shirt off now, okay?” She asks softly, hands finding the hem of your scrubs.
She waits for your nod, and gently works you out of your shirt. She needs extra cooperation to get your binder off. It’s like wrangling a wild animal, working your loose limbs through the tight fabric.
When your binder is finally off, more tears flow. It hurts, your ribs aching. But it hurts worse to remember having a chest to begin with. She grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch and wraps you up, efficiently hiding your chest. It’s hard to understand anything you say, your tears and little mind making your words slurred and odd.
“Oh, you’re such a sweet boy” She mumbles into your hair, and she rests her hands on your ribs, over the soft blanket fabric. She rubs back and forth, to hopefully soothe any extra pain.
You find yourself leaning into Mel’s touch, finding so much comfort. Eventually those sobs turn into little hiccups, and then soothe down to slow and even breaths.
“Have you ever heard of age regression?” She asks, her hands still working along your ribs.
“Yeah.” You shrug noncommittally. You had heard of it before, you grew up on the internet. But your mind felt too fuzzy to say much more.
“I think that’s what this is.” She whispers softly, coaxing you into her arms, your head against her chest, her arms wrapped around you. If you weren’t so pliant and unmoving, she would’ve taken you to get on clean clothes. But you’re an unmovable force for now.
“Mm” You mumble. That… made sense, even in your fuzzy and clouded mind. You sniffle a little, looking up at her with wide and trusting eyes. Her strong heartbeat is in your ear, a soft drum beating out a gentle lullaby.
She smiles down at you, your face smushed to her chest. She can’t help it, how can she not smile at such a sweet boy? She’s already mentally prepping a list, possible items that might make you feel better while you’re little. Maybe some toys, some soft stuffed animals.
“I could take care of you” Mel offers, even if she knows you won’t answer completely right now. She catalogues information in her mind as you lay there in her lap. She can’t gauge your exact regressed age yet, but she looks at you so softly, it makes you wanna cry again.
You nod against Mel’s chest, nose twitching with maybe more tears. But this time, grateful tears. It’s hard to believe someone is willing to take care of you while in such a state. It’s hard to think of much, besides wanting a stuffed animal, and thinking of childish things.
Mel hums softly, and it feels like something in her falls into place. Taking care of people has always been such a big part of her life, but taking care of someone she loves, it’s so different in the best way.
“Do you wanna get different clothes on?” Mel asks, and even though you shake your head no. She pulls you up, keeping the blanket wrapped around you to hide your chest. No sense in upsetting you more now by making you remember your chest.
Mel guides you gently to your bedroom and sits you on the bed, before rummaging through your clothes closet to find something suitable for a regressed boy. She finds a soft hoodie, and decides that should do. She helps you raise your arms up and slides the hoodie over your head, the warm fabric enveloping you like a hug.
“Thank you… mmm” You mumble softly, and she gently tucks you in with a soft smile. She could get used to this, someone to take care of and love.
“Go to sleep little one” Mel whispers back, making sure you’re snuggled in the quilts, before laying down beside you. You hum softly, and it takes only a minute before you’re out like a light.
Tomorrow will bring lots of questions, but Mel can handle them all. She can’t think of any other way she would wanna spend her time, than with such a sweet boy. She kisses your cheek, and drifts off to sleep too.