Work Text:
Unlike the rest of the Emergency Department, you did not believe in superstition, not in the slightest. You happily walked under ladders, and crossed people on the stairs. You didn’t swear or feel cursed when you broke a mirror, and when a black cat crossed your path, you petted it instead of thinking about your luck running out.
So when Whitaker had said that he hoped that it would be an easier shift than yesterday, you were just about the only person in the entire ED who didn't start to curse him out. You really wished you had cursed him out.
The ED was chaotic, a similar level of energy to the absolute bedlam of your shift on the fourth of July. It seemed to be a never ending rotation of broken bones, drunks, druggies, and pure idiots, meaning two things had happened. The first being that you had been asked to continue working into the night shift, and the second meant that you had not been able to take a break in the fourteen hours you had been clocked in.
All you wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed with your husband and eat crappy pizza from the Italian joint down the street. And after annoying Dr Abbot for the last two hours, he finally agreed to let you go home once you finish up with your last patient, Mr Dixon.
Mr Dixon had been brought in four hours into your shift, unconscious from copious alcohol consumption. You had his stomach pumped, his blood alcohol levels checked four times during the day, and he had only vomited on you once. All you had to do now was to do one more set of observations before you could send him home.
Knocking on the glass of his room, you loudly call his name before entering. “Mr Dixon, how are you feeling now?”
He huffed in response, refusing to look at you.
“Okay then.” You moved to look at the monitors he was connected to. “Good news, if your next set of observations are good, I can get you discharged.”
“Can’t you just let me go now?”
“Unfortuatley not, I just need to check you over one last time, just in case. Have to be sure you don’t wind up back here later tonight.” You move to grab a blood pressure cuff, before putting it on the man and starting the test. “I’ll also have to send one last set of bloods off to the lab, but don’t worry, you won’t have to wait for them to come back.”
“Then why’d you need ‘em?” he huffed at you again. You were beginning to wonder if the man could actually speak in a nice tone. He had not used the word ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ once, and had responded somewhat reasonably to the male doctors on shift. “You just want to poke at me to feel important, huh?”
You try to keep the smile on your face. “Not at all, Mr Dixon. It’s just what is in your course of action.”
“I don’t care what is in your ‘course of action’. Just do whatever to get me home. You're just some nurse afterall, what do you know?.” He still had the arrogant look on his face, god you just wish you could slap it off. That was until his flare turned into what you thought was a poor attempt into being seductive. “Unless I can get a bit of your action, if you know what I mean…?”
As he was talking you were setting up the needle and tubes for the blood draw. “I’m a doctor, Mr Dixon. I’ve even got the piece of paper to prove it, and besides. My husband wouldn't be impressed to find a patient flirting with me. Can I have your arm please?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt-” his words were cut off as he swore as you inserted the needle. Although you didn’t get in all the way before he jerked his arm back, sending you and the now-used needle back towards the wall. “What the fuck are you doing, you bitch!?”
You tried to stand up, but before you could, he had his body weight launching towards yours pinning you to the wall. Before you could stop him, he grabbed a needle from the tray next to the bed, uncapped it and jammed it into your leg before bolting.
“Fucking, shit fuck.” You swore, watching him speed away. You just hope Ahmed was watching the door and not the betting board so he could be stopped. Every part of you wanted to crumble to the floor and ignore the last five minutes of your life, but the doctor in you couldn't let that happen.
Unfortunately, the adrenaline coursing through you meant instead of gently removing, you decided the best course of action was yanking it out of your leg, and quickly pressing your hand into place when the blood started coming..
“What in fuck are you doing, sweetheart?”
You look up only to find your husband looking down at you. Anyone else would think he looked annoyed or even angry. But you knew Brendon better than anyone else in the hospital, maybe better than anyone else ever. You knew that the only thing he was feeling was concern.
He crouched down in front of you, and moved your hand from where you were applying pressure to the pin prick wound which seemed to be gushing more blood than seemed possible. “Please say that blood isn’t yours.”
“I can say that, but I would be lying.”
His jaw clenched, as he put pressure on the wound again, before hoisting you up on the bed. “What happened? All I saw was some idiot running loose, please tell me that had nothing to do with you.”
“I could say that…”
“But you’d be lying” He grumbled, moving to get some gauze and some antiseptic wipes. On his way back to the bed, he drew the curtain closed, allowing you to pull down your scrub bottoms which were definitely ruined now. “Why is it always you getting into trouble? Trying to make me go grey already, Sweetheart?”
“Is it working?”
“It will be if I find you injured and crumpled on the floor again. But stop deflecting. Tell me what happened?”
And so you do. You tell him all about Mr Dixon, and the ordeal he had caused. You spared no detail about how rude and misogynistic he had been, as well as the puke-ruined scrubs you had to dispose of thanks to him. But when it came to the moment Mr Dixon had shoved you away from him and pinned you to the wall, you had tried to make it sound somewhat nicer than it was. Although, one raised eyebrow from Brendon had you spilling all the secrets.
Once he was done cleaning the blood from your leg, he took off his gloves and gently cradled the back of your neck. “Why didn’t you come and get me? I would've come running.”
“It happened like a minute before you showed up, baby. You beat me to it.”
He stroked the back of your neck before pulling away from you. “I need you to be honest now, was the needle he stuck you with used?”
“No,” you shove your hand into your fleece pocket, and pull out another capped needle. “I managed to grab the used needle and secure it from him. The one he jabbed me with was clean.”
“No bloods needed then,” He murmured, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m taking you home.”
“I’ll need to tell Abbot what happened, he will need to know.”
“Text him from the car, I don’t care about what is procedure or policy or whatever. All I want is to get you home.”
You nod your head, leaning into Brendon as he helps you up and out of the room. Just as you were heading out the doors, Abbot tried to get your attention, only to be stopped by a look that could kill.
“Bren, can we get pizza on the way home?”
“You can have whatever you want, Sweetheart. You know there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”
“Even smiling more at work?”
“Don’t push your luck.”