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Wincing at the pain in her ankle, Penelope Featherington tries to shift her body to be more comfortable, hissing when it only makes the pain worse. “Fuck!” She seethes to no one in the empty room.
She is going to kill her sister.
The last thing she wanted to do on her birthday was to spend the night in A&E, but now she has no choice. If only her sister, Philippa, hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to put up a string of lights in their shared flat, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
They planned to have a big party to celebrate their joint birthday (sharing the day but not the year), and her sister never did things halfway, so she was roped into decorating their place before anyone came over. She had stood on a tall kitchen stool, and when she had gone on her tiptoes to reach for a glass, the stool toppled, bending her ankle sideways and causing a searing pain ever since.
Since her sister wasn’t home when it happened, she had somehow managed to get herself into a cab and was brought to the hospital. Luckily, there is no bone sticking out, but she is fairly certain she has broken a bone.
And of course, the one time she goes to the hospital, it has to be the busiest night she has ever seen it. Of course, her birthday has to be on a Saturday, where the hospital is full of drunk and disorderly people and rushing doctors.
Philippa had offered to come and sit with her, but she didn’t want them both to miss out on their birthdays, spending it in an overly busy hospital, both of them smelling like disinfectant and God knows what else. Her sister deserves to have a party after the year she has had, so Penelope is fine to wait alone.
Admittedly, her sister’s year had gone a lot better than hers; given the fact she had gotten married to the man of her dreams who completely dotes on her and had a baby girl.
Penelope’s year had been spent working her arse off and being dumped by her boyfriend, who had claimed she ‘just wasn’t it’ for him after a year of dating.
Now, she has pain in her ankle and no pain relief, trying to grab the attention of the nurses flurrying around.
Yeah, she thinks, I might pretend this year didn’t happen.
Just as she has given up all hope, a nurse walks into the room.
“Oh, thank god!” Penelope exclaims, wincing at the pain in her ankle when she sits up. “You have to give me some pain drugs; I am dying here! My ankle really hurts. Please?” She nearly begs.
“I’m sorry, Miss Featherington,” The nurse offers her a kind smile. “All we can give you is paracetamol or ibuprofen until the doctor comes to check on your ankle.”
“What?” She nearly whines, gesturing to her ankle. “Please, come on, I have been here for three hours, and I am in agony!” She explains, trying to be as nice as she can despite the pain. “I haven’t even had my X-ray yet; have mercy here. I just want to get out of your hair and go home.”
“We have ordered an X-ray, and I’m here to bring you to it.” The nurse informs her, grabbing the wheelchair by her bed. “Do you need help into the chair?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Penelope nods, “Please.”
After her x-ray has been done and she is back in bed, the first thing she notices upon her return is a crying child, and she whimpers to herself, glad that she has a private cubicle instead of being in the waiting room with the child.
It is still irritating.
“Someone please give that child a bloody bottle or something.” She mutters, holding her hand to her forehead.
“Aw,” A patient coos as they pass, overhearing her comment. “Are you worried about the child? So sweet.”
“Yes, I am worried that child might die.” Penelope rolls her eyes, sounding entirely serious. “Because if it doesn’t shut the FUCK,” She yells out, wincing at the pain in her ankle. “Up, I will scream. I do not need a migraine as well as a broken ankle.”
The other patient walks off in a huff, leaving Penelope alone to whimper and whine in pain, well aware of how harsh she is being, but she is in pain, and no one is helping her, on her birthday. She is entitled to be a little on edge.
In all honesty, she loves children, and in a usual circumstance, a crying baby would make her feel sad, and she would want to comfort it.
But not tonight; tonight she is cranky and miserable and in pain. She will apologise later…maybe.
To her immense joy, a doctor appears within the next hour, and she is too distracted staring at her ceiling to look at him until he has shut the curtain behind him for her privacy when he speaks to her, and she’s immediately taken aback at the sight of him.
She knows it is a cliché to find a doctor attractive, but things are clichés because they are true.
Her doctor is attractive…unlike every other doctor she has ever known.
He has a well-built, slim but muscular frame that (had her ankle not been in such pain) makes her want to jump him. He has dark hair that looks thick enough to run her hands through it, and she imagines her fingers tugging on his curls even before he speaks. His eyes are a colour she has never seen before; even though she is well aware that they are blue, she doesn’t think she has ever liked blue so much before.
Blue might be her new favourite colour.
His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose, and he pushes them up with his index finger, an easy smile on his face despite the tiredness he is quite obviously feeling. “Miss Featherington,” He greets. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”
She smiles, waving off his apologies despite all her complaining. “It’s no problem. You are very busy.” She assures him, making note of the fact he is not wearing the white coat get-up she has seen so many others wear. He is only in a pair of dark navy scrubs with one of those upside-down clocks on the pocket, as well as a pen perched there for easy access.
God, she thinks, glancing up to the ceiling for a split second, well done. If you exist, well done.
“I’m Doctor Bridgerton,” He introduces himself, holding his clipboard close to his chest. “I understand you are having some ankle pain; you think you might have broken it?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m not one hundred percent; I am no doctor.” She jokes, laughing softly, but the laugh sends pain to her ankle, and it comes out as more of a grimace. “I am in a lot of pain, so any kind of painkiller you could give me would be greatly appreciated.” She admits.
“We are still waiting for your X-ray to come back, so I can’t rule out any fracture, but I can get you some co-codamol until we are certain what it is you’ve done. It won’t take away everything, but it should help ease the pain.” He quickly writes down what he is going to give her on his clipboard. “You aren’t allergic to any medication?”
“No,” She shakes her head. “I have had it in the past. No issues.”
“You may feel sleepy with it,” Doctor Bridgerton warns, offering her a kind smile, and she tries not to blush at his smile, distinctly aware that she’s acting like a teenage girl with a crush. “It is possible you might feel a little nauseous, but if you have had it in the past and had no side effects, we would hope that you don’t now.”
“I’m sure I will be fine.”
“Good.” He goes to leave to grab her the medication, but he turns to her again before he goes, obviously having forgotten to mention something, and she offers him a bright smile despite the pain in her ankle. “You also might be constipated after having it, just a warning. Did you suffer from that before?”
She blushes, quickly shaking her head. “No, no, no, Doctor!” Penelope assures him with an embarrassed laugh. “Never! No.” She says again, trying not to remember the last time she had co-codamol for a week and didn’t go to the bathroom for anything other than a pee for three days. “No, no…no.”
“Is that a yes?” He checks, sounding like he has had to have this conversation before, and she imagines he has.
“A little, yes.”
Doctor Bridgerton nods, “I’ll grab you some pain medication.” He says, instead of pointing out that she should just be honest.
When he disappears, she groans to herself, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, you fucking idiot. You told a cute doctor you couldn’t shit! How unattractive!” She moves to kick her leg out, but the movement makes her screech in pain, holding back tears at how much pain she is in.
After he has come back and given her some pain medication, which admittedly does help slightly, she is alone again, waiting for him to come back whilst trying to come up with made-up songs in her head just to pass the time.
“Get me out of here.” She sings to herself in frustration, listening to a new baby crying.
She is alone for two hours with nurses popping in to give her water or trying to comfort her, and though it passes by slowly, she is treated to videos of her sister at their flat having the time of her life. She can’t help but smile at her happiness, even if it hurts her to see the clock turn to 00:01.
“Thirty, flirty and thriving.” She mumbles under her breath, watching 13 Going on 30 on her phone, whimpering as the pain in her ankle begins to come back again. “Thirty and one day...This is great.”
“It is your birthday?” A very male and very posh accent comes from by the curtain in her room, and she yelps, dropping her phone into her lap at the sight of Doctor Bridgerton. “Happy birthday.”
“It was yesterday.” Penelope shrugs, putting her phone by her side to give him her full attention. “But thanks. Sucks to be spending it here. No offence.”
The sound of his pager going off fills the room, and she sees the frustration in his face, showing exactly how tired he is. “Excuse me,” He requests, glancing at his pager. “I should-“ The pager goes off again, making him mutter under his breath. “I’ll be one moment.”
“No problem.” She grumbles, feeling slightly irritated at the fact he is probably going to run off and not come back for hours again.
She knows that she is selfish, but she is taking up a bed, and she wants to go home. His attractiveness is almost irrelevant at this point.
He disappears, though he comes back within a few minutes. The second he enters the room, his pager goes off again, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.
“You are needed again, I assume?” She guesses.
“Yes.” Doctor Bridgerton confirms, looking stressed, and his easy smiles are gone when he glances at his pager. “One moment.”
“Okay.” She nods, watching him go.
When he comes back, she tries to push aside her irritation, and she tries to smile, but then his pager goes off twice more, and she can’t help herself.
“Oh, my God!” She nearly screeches, her voice so high-pitched that only dogs can hear her. “Just send me home! Give me a cast, give me painkillers and send me home! I will be out of your hair, I promise!”
“Miss Featherington-“
“No,” She interrupts him. “I get it, okay, you are very busy, and I am not dying, so I know I am low on your priority list, and I know that I’m a total crazy bitch right now, but I am in pain, and I have spent my thirtieth birthday in a hospital bed surrounded by crying babies with a doctor who is taken away every five minutes! Just please send me home, okay?”
Doctor Bridgerton frowns. “Miss Featherington-“
“I have broken my ankle, okay? I am in pain here; I just want a cast and pain medication that is ALL! Please-“
“Your ankle is not broken!” He finally interrupts her ranting. “No fractures, no break, nothing!” He assures her; his voice is still gentle but definitely irritated. “It is a sprain, Miss Featherington, so no, you are correct, you are not very high on the list of priorities, but you are on the list, which is more than I can say for patients who have not come out of tonight alive.”
She should apologise, but instead, a stupid question falls out of her mouth before she can stop it.
“Are you stressed?”
He huffs, “I have been paged five times in the last two minutes, I delivered a baby in surgery today, resuscitated two patients, and haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. So, yes, forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” He says, his bitterness clear in his tone.
Penelope grimaces, quickly going to apologise. “I-“
“I’m sorry,” He quickly apologises, realising he has said too much, and he takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I apologise, Miss Featherington; tonight is just a very bad night.” He admits, making her once angered expression falter to one of sympathy. “I am the only doctor on call tonight, so I am frightfully busy. I should not have spoken to you like that.”
“No,” She sits up, wincing at the pain in her ankle. “I’m so sorry. My pain just kind of got to me.” She admits. “You do a wonderful job, I’m sure. I am such a bitch for erupting on you.”
“Please do not keep calling yourself that.” He requests gently, making her soften even further, if that is possible.
“Can I start over?” She requests, and he nods slowly. “Hi, Doctor Bridgerton, thank you for coming back. What seems to be the gist with my ankle? Also, may I say you are doing a great job!”
“That might have been too much.”
“I’m sticking with it.” She shrugs, and he stifles a laugh. “Sprained, huh? No breakage?”
“Not at all,” He confirms, pulling off a slip of paper from his clipboard and passing it to her. “There is a prescription for painkillers there, and the nurse will give you some to take home that should last for the next twenty-four hours until you pick up the others. I’m going to give you some crutches, so you keep the weight off your ankle, but you are free to go home.”
“Thank you, Doctor Bridgerton.” She takes the prescription, glancing down at it. “You can call me Penelope, by the way. We have yelled at each other, so we can be on a first-name basis.”
“Colin.” He smiles. “Have a lovely night, Penelope. And I mean it in the nicest way possible; I hope to never see you in A&E ever again.” He jokes, and she laughs quietly.
Before he goes to leave, she can’t help but blurt out, “How about seeing me at dinner instead?” She asks, making him turn to look at her. “If you get more than five minutes, I would like to have dinner with you, Colin.”
He frowns, looking almost devastated, and she goes to backtrack before he speaks up, “I am on double shifts for the next week.” He admits. “But I might be able to take five or ten minutes if you wanted an awful cup of coffee from a hospital vending machine.”
Penelope grins, “I’ll take it.”