patience

This is like one of my guilty ships in sumo because I saw a good fanart of it that one time. Also based on what I wrote, I need Guzma in a bandanna as your average gruff auto mechanic now.

Inspired/based on by my friend Ethi 's request: "We're in the same unit at the hospital and I thought you were cute when one of us went for a procedure, and the nurse passes our love notes."

Guzma had a reputation of being one of the worst patients at Po Town Urgent Care. Working for twelve hours a day, six days a week as an auto mechanic didn't make him the kind of guy who wanted to sit around and pet Litten all day, either. He was often in urgent care lately due to a lot of pain in his mid-regions, and doctors telling him that it was probably because of kidney stones didn't stop him from complaining. The last nurse practitioner nearly had a shouting match with him.

Wicke shuffled her files for the seventh or eighth time that day. She wasn't as much of a timid person as she was an anxious one, so it made perfect sense for her senior nurses to push Guzma onto her. It was either her or they refused Guzma as a patient, and the latter wasn't exactly legal in urgent care. They had to serve anyone, no matter how revolting they were, until the patient performed bannable offenses. And even then, in a low-income area such as Po Town, what were people like Guzma's other options than the ER?

She shuffled her files again, stopping at Guzma's door. The doctor had finally convinced him to get some tests done, and it was 110% confirmed he had kidney stones. Usually the stones would pass through the bowels naturally, but in Guzma's case they had been there for such a long time that he needed to undergo a small procedure in order to get them out of him. Wicke's job was to prep him for surgery. Obviously that wasn't a very appealing job.

Gulping, she knocked once, then reluctantly went into the room with a forced smile on her face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Guzma! My name is Wicke and I'll be getting you prepped for your surgery today. If there's anything you need beforehand, just ask!"

She looked ahead at the bed. A large, tan man barely fit into the hospital gown provided for him. His thick, curly white hair, which very clearly showed off black roots, accented his grim face perfectly. He looked like the kind of person to just defecate in his neighbor's backyard. Eyebrows raised, it seemed like Wicke might just be that neighbor. "Hey, yo, Wicke-Wicke, my ass is chafing," he said gruffly. "These bedsheets are so scratchy."

Wicke sweatdropped. It was all she could do. "Standard hospital bedsheets. The main hospital across town gives 'em to us. No luxuries like 2400-thread Egyptian cotton here."

"Yeah, well, no two-ply TP in the can, either. Ya mind scratchin' my ass?"

So vulgar. Wicke's smile tightened, and she flashed floral printed acrylic nails at him. Faba did a nice job on them. "Of course I can. These nails could cut open a box, so scratching your bum with them shouldn't be no problem!"

"And make my ass start bleedin'? Nah, never mind. Howabboud you just spank me? Good luck for ya boy's dyin' kidneys."

he had the nerve to roll over on his stomach, exposing his tight rear to the world through the bottomless hospital gown. Definitely nothing impressive, neither him or his bum. In fact, contrary to the other nurses' disgust, Wicke found him almost adorable. This Guzma thought she'd just scream and run like the rest of them, huh? Well, Wicke might've felt anxious, but she was no punk.

Raising her hand in the air, she delivered a swift smack to his rear. Guzma yelped loudly and clawed at his pillow. "Whoa, Wicke, you're like some hot pastrami!" He flashed a toothy grin. "Not too many peeps can handle ya boy Guzma's hot, steamy buns!"

"Well, I did tell you anything you needed."

"Well, then, I guess you're not a punk bitch."

They smiled at each other. This was going to be a longer standoff than the kidney stones, Wicke was sure of it.

"Hey, yo, Wicky-Wicke, it looks like I got a secret admirer."

Wicke looked up from her clipboard, indifferent. For anyone else, she would've figured out the least bit of interest. "Do you?"

Guzma held up a sticky note above her head. Scribbled on it in bright, purple ink were the words, 'HOT MESS'. "I found this on my bed after I woke up the other day. Sexy, huh? Normally I don't get impressed by this mushy kinda crap, but this? This is something I'd stamp on my car or my ass."

"How lovely. Why are you here?"

"Oh, c'mon! I can't hang around here and appreciate this mushy flirting?"

"Not unless you break an arm or something."

There was a short pause before Wicke shook her head. "Please don't break your arm on purpose, Mr. Guzma."

"Fine. I'll just stand around 'til you do it."

He leaned against the wall, putting up a foot behind him. Wicke rolled her eyes and walked over to the counter in the opposite direction, barely containing her blush. She also thought Guzma wasn't into such cheesy flirting; that's why she left the note. If word got out that she had perhaps a tiny crush on this a-hole, her seniors would never leave her alone.

And if he realized it was her…

Her hand smacked the pitcher, and she yelped. Guzma raised an eyebrow at her, but she waved it off, smiling. If he wanted a stand-off, he got it. "Fine, then. As long as you don't bother the staff, you're your own man, aren't you?"

"Damn right! Your boy, Guzma!"

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up one of them. Wicke splashed pitcher water all over her hands. This was going too far. "Mr. Guzma, you cannot smoke in this building!" she cried, placing her wet hands on her hips. "You put that out this instant!"

"Make me."

Wicke walked two steps forward. "Put it out…right…now."

Guzma followed suit, blowing a puff of smoke. "Make..me," he snarled.

He towered over her, even with her heels. He smelled like smoke and engine oil, and his hair was slightly greasy, swept back by an old bandanna. Despite his rough appearance, however, she refused to back down from him. Standing up on her tippy-toes, she leaned forward and tugged on his cheeks, pulling them until he winced and his eyes darted away as he bit on his cigarette. "Okay, okay!" he snapped. "Jesus, woman, you drive a hard bargain."

She stomped out the cigarette remains, and as she bent back to full height she suddenly realized something felt wrong. Her shirt…the first couple of buttons were undone! How long ago did that happen? Wicke felt her face heating up, and as she noticed a piece of paper in her cleavage, she saw Guzma scampering off from the corner of her eyes, hands raised in the air.

Then, slowly she took the note out, and scrawled in messy, oil-stained handwriting was, "i got some dr peppers in my cooler at the job ur welcome to any of them anytime nursey-nurse ;)"

And he didn't like mushy crap? Wicke crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in her pocket, thinking about taking more than the usual ten-minute break. What a fucking liar.