Author's Note: This was something that was sent to me on tumblr (heidipoo-xox). I take prompts over there and write when I can. College and work sometimes get in the way, but I try to update regularly. I love requests! So please send me some, doesn't matter what pairing (unless it's something I don't ship), I'll try to write it. Anyway, leave a review and let me know how I'm doing. Thanks again! P.S. Fools is almost done!

Here

It was midnight, and Brock was rushing to the hospital. He nearly left his car keys in the house, twice, and barely had his shoes on before he was out the door. He had to remind himself to breathe, had to remind himself to slow it down, or else he might end up in the same predicament he was rushing to. The call from the doctor lingered in his mind, and honestly, Brock wasn't sure what to think at the moment. They were so vague, so void of emotion and empathy.

That's why he had to get to the hospital in the next five minutes; he had to make sure Brian was okay. The younger man had left hours ago to run some much needed errands, Brock always bidding him farewell with a goodbye kiss and a "Come back home safe." It was sort of the ritual for every time either one of them had left, even before they had gotten married. Well, an hour turned to two, and that's when Brock knew something had gone wrong.

Four hours later, was when he finally received a call from the nearest hospital. "We're not sure of all the problems yet, but your husband is very hurt. It'd be best if you could get here immediately." Obviously it had been a car accident, but just what had occurred? And what was wrong with Brian? Brock didn't even know if he was coming out of this thing alive. But he hoped and he prayed while he drove that he would get to see his husband again.

When the building of the hospital came into view, Brock could feel his heartbeat picking up speed. It couldn't be good, nothing was ever good at a hospital. Nonetheless, he sucked it up, put on a brave face, and headed inside with his fingers crossed. He hated the smell of the antiseptic burning his nostrils, the watery eyes he got from the florescent lights; hospitals were simply not his thing. But he walked to the emergency department, where presumably, his husband was being held and asked the receptionist for him.

"He's had some work done," Her voice was softer, kinder, and Brock appreciated that.

"Can I see him? Can I talk to his doctor? Please..." His words felt like they were jumbled together when they left his lips, his head felt hazy and in a moment like this? Brian was the only one who knew to calm him down. But Brian was hurt, Brian had been in an accident, Brian was out like a light and Brock didn't know if he was going to wake up. However, the receptionist managed to keep her cool, and she lead the older man to Brian's room, where they waited outside for the doctor. From that moment, Brock seemed to have zoned out. He was trying not to be a pessimist, but when his husband was laid out in a hospital bed, it was a bit difficult.

A sigh left him when he saw the doctor approaching, "You must be the husband?" He inquired, and Brock couldn't do anything but nod. He was at a lack of words at the moment. "Brian was hit as I'm sure you can guess. He's suffered a mild concussion as well as some broken bones. He's on some pretty strong meds at the moment, so it may be awhile before he wakes… But other than that? He's okay." At those words, a weight lifted off Brock's shoulders. Brian was okay, well aside from the broken bones and concussion, but those were curable. He was so glad that the crash wasn't fatal.

"Thank you, doctor." He nodded. "Is it okay if I stay with him?"

"Feel free," The doctor gestured to Brian's door, and Brock only nodded thankfully, and bid the receptionist farewell before heading inside. The room was dark because Brian was resting; the lights were off and the blinds were drawn to a close. The only things that were illuminating the room were the small blinking buttons from the machines Brian was hooked up to, and the small TV playing silently in the corner. There was a chair next to the bed, and Brock took it, sitting next to his unconscious husband.

In that moment, he took a second to look over him, and he tried to remain calm, but the sight of Brian like that was not a sight he wanted to see. His legs were in casts, as well as one of his arms, and he had thick bandages around his ribcage. Brock could see it through the thin hospital gown, and it wasn't rocket science to know that Brian was going to be in some pain when he woke up. His pale skin was peppered in cuts and bruises; IVs sticking out every which way, and the dark shadows under his eyes made Brock's chest ache.

"Oh Brian..." The older man trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. He found the Irishman's hand and held onto it, tight, never letting go. He vowed to never let go until he woke up. And albeit the doctor said he was going to be okay, Brock was still unsure, and it still scared him to see Brian like this. So hurt and broken and battered. It was definitely something he was not expecting.

So, he got as comfortable as he could in that stiff chair, gripped Brian's hand, and laid his head down on the side of the bed. He was pretty tired, it had been a very long day, so he let the beeps and buzzes and the other mysterious sounds of the hospital lull him into a light sleep. It was Brian's small breaths that kept him sane, knowing that he was still breathing, and he was okay. He wanted to be there for the younger man when he finally did wake up.

After a restless night, Brock felt like he only slept for a few minutes when he felt nimble fingers in his too short hair. "Brocky," It was Brian's hoarse voice that caught his full attention, and jolted him awake from his light sleep. He sat up, never letting go of the Irishman's hand, and gave a small, tired smile.

"Yes, I'm here." His voice was soft, gentle.

Brian cleared his throat, "How?" He inquired.

"The doctor called me… I was so worried, I've been here all night, waiting for you to wake up."

"I'm okay." Brian nodded. "In a lot of fucking pain, but I am okay. You don't have to worry anymore." He brought his husband's hand up to his lips and placed a firm kiss there. He was so appreciative of Brock, hell, he was a better significant other than anyone could ask for; hell, he was a better person than anybody could ask for.

"You're pretty banged up." Brock answered. "The doctor said you broke some bones and have a concussion… But you don't have to worry about anything Bri. I'm going to take care of you until you get better. I'm here." He continued to explain, voice still soft and smooth. "I love you."

"I know," Brian gave a small grin. "And I love you too."

"You should try to get some more rest." The older man advised.

Brian rolled his eyes, "I just woke up!" He exclaimed.

"Breakfast then?"

"Okay." He nodded, still smiling.