Fight Me! A Klance Nursing AU
"Anything I need to know?" Lance asked Hunk, the nurse in charge of the floor. Lance placed his takeout coffee on the nurse's station counter and rested his arms as he gazed over and looked at his co-worker/friend.
Hunk shook his head. "Not really. Your girlfriend's been asking for you," he said, giving Lance a sly grin, though Lance laughed. His 'girlfriend' was an eighty-five year old great-grandmother recovering from a hip replacement surgery. Lance flirted outrageously with her, which delighted her enough to slip him some of the candies her grandson snuck in for her.
"Ah, Rose will be my first visit on rounds," Lance said. "I need a little sugar."
Hunk laughed. "Remember, no climbing in bed with the patients."
"I don't think I could handle her, to be honest. Something tells me she was a wild one."
"We've a new patient in 523. Pretty nasty accident, actually," Hunk said, his face scrunching slightly. "Motorcycle. Multiple fractures. Young guy, too. Pretty much a miracle he made it."
Lance frowned, reaching for the chart that Hunk slid towards him. 523 was on his wing and he always made sure to check over the charts carefully for any of the patients assigned to him. He was somewhat of a goofball outside of the hospital, but he was all business inside. He took his job seriously and was a favorite among the patients. And not just the great-grandmother types.
Lance's way of stepping lightly into a room, with an engaging smile on his face, always helped to make patients feel better, no matter what level of post-surgery pain they felt. He somehow always knew the right thing to say, the right time to crack a little joke, the right time to sit and merely hold a hand and listen.
Nothing gave him satisfaction more than nursing. It was his dream from childhood, when he took over first aid for his siblings, under the guiding hand of his Abuela. He learned basic patching up and first aid. Jumped into CPR training in junior high. Took medical career classes as a high school student and soon graduated, with honors, as an RN. It was his proudest moment and earned him a job at his local hospital on the post-op floor.
Though his shifts were long and wearied him to the bones, he wouldn't trade it for anything. It humbled him to know that he provided at least some form of comfort to people, some form of healing, and helped them on the road to recovery. The post-op floor wasn't a particularly difficult floor to work - most patients were there a day or two until their release. Some took a little longer, but mostly his duties were monitoring their vitals, changing dressings, administering meds, and a myriad of other little things that assured their health and well-being.
The notes on the chart of the patient in 523 - Kogane, Keith - were grim from the looks of it. The young man, aged twenty-five, had multiple fractures from the accident. Lance noted that the accident was caused by a drunk driver who had hit Keith from behind. The patient had broken both the radius and ulna in his right arm, as well as two breaks in his right tibia that were open and compound. Lance assumed he was thrown onto his right side. However, aside from the obvious seriousness of the fractures, Lance was relieved to see that the only other injuries sustained were minor lacerations.
The fractures, though, were enough to require surgery - at least on his leg. Lance saw from the chart that the arm had been set and placed in a cast. The leg fractures were much more serious and surgery was required to piece the bones back together and treat the open wounds left by the injury. Lance knew this meant, more than likely, the leg was in traction.
"Wow, poor guy," Lance commented, shutting the chart.
"Yeah. Over a drunk driver too."
"When did he come in?"
"Around midnight last night. Surgery finished up this morning and he was in ICU for most of the day. They transferred him up about an hour ago. He's still pretty heavily medicated, of course." Lance nodded. It was noted on the chart.
"I'll visit him last on rounds."
As promised, Lance first went to Rose's room, where he quickly took her vitals, flirting with her the entire time. Her one grandson, Mike, was there, swiping through his phone as Lance worked. Rose tried many times to get Mike to talk to Lance, to no avail. Lance was relieved. Mike seemed nice, but was obviously straight. Why Rose thought it was a good idea to try to get her straight grandson and her gay nurse together was beyond him.
He kept busy for the next hour, scurrying from one room to the next. Mr. Jenkins needed another dinner - his was not the right diet type for a diabetic. Mrs. Sampson needed a medication adjustment - Lance did not like how responsive she was when he talked to her, so he sent a message to her doctor. The rest of the patients were happy to see him, chattering to him about inconsequential things as he took their vitals and charted them all down.
He avoided room 523. The patient didn't need his vitals checked for another hour, and Lance saw that there was a visitor in there, sitting quietly in the chair between the bed and the window. Lance couldn't see the patient, at least not the top half of him because the curtain was drawn partway for privacy. All Lance saw was one leg up in traction and part of the visitor on the opposite side of the bed.
With his regular duties done, Lance told Hunk he wanted to go introduce himself to the patient and the visitor. Hunk waved him off and Lance grabbed Kogane, Keith's chart and headed to the room.
Hospital rooms are hardly ever cheery, which is why Lance was usually welcome when he came in. His sunshine smile and bright expression made the plain green walls and stark hospital room suddenly cheerful. The visitor, a man appearing to be in his late twenties in spite of the bags under his eyes and the little shock of white in his otherwise dark hair, looked up as Lance entered. His tired eyes widened at Lance's sunny expression, and it took a moment for a return smile to crack its way onto his face.
Lance glanced at the patient on the bed, noting he was asleep. Confirmed by the bedside visitor. "He's still asleep. Is that normal?"
"Yes, perfectly normal. I just went over his chart a little bit ago. Sleep is the best thing for him right now." Lance went over to the white board - each room had one decorated with pictures of palm trees and sunny beaches he'd personally taken back home - and wrote his name in loopy letters with the designation, RN above Jen, the LPN's name. "I'm Lance, Keith's attending nurse for the night," he added stepping over near the man.
He stood up, extending his hand and giving Lance a weary shake. "Shiro," he introduced himself. "Keith's brother."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Shiro, though I wish it could be in a better circumstance."
"I can't believe this happened," Shiro said, slumping back down in the chair, his eyes immediately going to Keith. "He's so careful. So safe. I mean, he does ride a little fast," he said with a light chuckle, "but he's safe. Guess it doesn't mean anything when there's drunks on the road."
"Something I never understood. I mean, not saying that I," and he pressed his hand on his chest, "have never been a little too drunk, but I'd never drive. They catch the guy?"
Shiro snorted, "Yeah."
"Good," Lance said, moving to the other side of the bed where Keith's IV stand stood. He pressed the diagnostic buttons on the machine, checking the readout and noting the various percentages into Keith's chart. He checked all the IV lines leading to Keith and started the blood pressure cuff.
"Will he be ok?"
Shiro had probably been told everything by the doctor. Lance knew the operating physician as well as the attending nurses. All were amazing, so they would have thoroughly updated Shiro on everything he needed to know. Lance also knew that relatives and loved ones needed constant assurance, no matter from whom it came. He smiled across the bed at the tired man.
"Perfectly ok. He'll be running around on his own two legs in no time. The notes in his chart, well, I saw nothing that would give me concern for his recovery. And, he's in my hands, so I'll make sure he's back to his normal self."
He could see the relief in the man's eyes as well as in the brief smile Shiro gave him. "Thanks, Lance. He's all I've got."
It was time to check Keith's bandages around his head. The helmet protected his skull, of course, but there was bruising, as well as a cut across his cheek. It was then that Lance finally got a good look at the injured man and he had to hold back a gasp. In spite of the bruising around his eyes and the bandages, Lance could tell he was drop dead gorgeous. Even the longish hair worked on him. Oh, it would not be easy attending this one.
It took approximately fifteen minutes for Lance to check all of Keith's IV's, bandages, the casts, the traction, and the medications. All this time he chatted with Shiro, getting a little bit of background on the both of them. They lived together. Keith was a tattoo artist who owned his own studio. Shiro was a teacher. Lance got the impression the parents weren't in the picture, but he didn't pry about that. He kept the chat light-hearted, instinctively knowing it was what Shiro needed.
It was when he was gently placing Keith's injured arm back onto the bed after checking the cast when Keith groaned. A quick glance up and Lance saw his eyes fluttering open. Shiro leaned forward anxiously.
"Keith?"
"Shiro?" Keith's voice was weak and strained.
"I'm here, little brother," Shiro's voice was also weak and strained, but from holding back tears.
"It hurts."
"I know. I know." Shiro glanced up at Lance. "Is there anything...?"
"He's hooked up for a morphine drip," Lance said with a nod. "I'll administer some."
Shiro spoke in a low voice to Keith, explaining what had happened. Keith glowered down his body at his leg, then at his arm. "I remember," he growled.
"You had to have surgery," Shiro said, rubbing his eyes. "You're pretty banged up, but all the doctors say you'll recover fully. Broken bones. No concussion. No internal damage. It's bad, but not so bad that you're out of commission."
Keith took in the explanation with a scowl on his face. Lance merely stood a few feet from the bed, ready to answer questions or provide information if needed. "It hurts," he finally grunted, moving restlessly on the bed.
"I can give you a dose of morphine," Lance said again. Keith turned his head toward the voice and glared at Lance. Lance administered the dose through the IV and made note of it in the chart. Then, placing the chart on the bedside table, he put a comforting hand on Keith's right shoulder, only to have it smacked away with the left.
"Now, now, Tiger," Lance said with amusement. "No hitting on your nurse. And don't pull out your IV's."
Morphine administered straight into the bloodstream worked fast and he could already see Keith's eyes - which were the deepest shade of blue Lance had ever seen - no can't think of that now - start to glaze over as the powerful drug began to take affect.
"I'll hit on you if I want, pretty boy," Keith slurred out. It made Shiro laugh.
"Promises, promises, Casanova," Lance said. He looked at Shiro. "He'll be a little loopy from the meds, but awake. Morphine often makes patients say things they normally wouldn't," Lance said to Shiro, who nodded. "I play along to make them happy, so if I say anything that seems...untoward...it's just in the line of duty. He won't remember any of it."
Shiro waved a hand. "I've had morphine before," he said, lifting a prosthetic arm that Lance hadn't even noticed. Shiro was in long sleeves. "I'll probably enjoy this, as much as I can knowing how much pain he's in."
"If you need anything, press the call button. I'll just be down at the nurse's station entering in all his info."
"Thank you, Lance," Shiro said.
"Call me if you need anything, Keith."
"You."
"Beg pardon?"
"I need you."
"Maybe when you're feeling better."
"I feel great."
"Tell you what, you get healed and then we'll see. Until you can chase me, I can't take you seriously."
"Then fight me!"
Lance laughed then. Even though he didn't love the reasons patients had to go on morphine - to ease an intense amount of pain - he did enjoy the things that came out of their mouths. He could tell stories for days of morphine-induced confessions and stories from dozens of patients.
"Fight you, Tiger? Why would I want to do that?"
"Cause you're looking at me funny." Keith raised his uninjured arm and, very uncoordinated, shook his fist at Lance.
"Cause you're funny looking." Lance flicked his eyes over to Shiro. The man's tired eyes were lit up with amusement and Lance could see he was holding back laughter. He probably needed a good laugh, and Lance was more than happy to provide.
"You're funny looking," Keith said petulantly.
"You called me pretty boy just a few minutes ago."
"Did not."
"I'm afraid you did."
"I wouldn't tell you that, I'd just think it."
"So you like to fight all the pretty boys you meet?"
"No, just you."
"Doesn't sound like a good strategy to get my number."
"Oh, I'll get it."
"Somehow I doubt it."
"I'll fight you for it."
"Oh, Tiger. I couldn't fight you. I know I'll lose. Then you'll have my number and bother me all the time."
"No," Keith disagreed. "I'd take you out."
"Take me out with your fist? Or on a date?"
"A date. At my house. In my bed."
"Dinner in your bed? Sounds messy."
"I'll make it messy."
"Keith," Shiro said, his tired voice stern.
"G'way Shiro, I'm hitting on this nurse."
"I can't go away Keith."
"You're always such a cockblock, Shiro," Keith complained, his eyes crossing as he focused on the end of his nose.
Lance smiled and picked up Keith's chart. Keith would be in the hospital for a few weeks at least, so this could get interesting. Lance had many patients try to get his number, but he didn't give it out. He wasn't about to get in trouble with his management. He loved his job too much. He knew Keith wasn't serious - it was med-induced and didn't mean anything. He could admit, in the smallest and deepest corner of his mind that it was too bad, though. Keith was exactly his type.
"Listen, Tiger, I have to go check on some other patients. You're not my only boyfriend on this floor."
"I'll fight them, too," Keith declared, swinging his good hand toward an opponent Lance and Shiro couldn't see. "You're mine."
"The possessive type?" Lance asked, exchanging a little grin with Shiro. "I like that. I'll see you later, Tiger." Keith just glowered at him, but Shiro held up a hand to stifle a laugh.
"Thank you, Lance," Shiro said, and with a little wave, Lance left the room.
Two hours later, it was close to midnight. Lance was at the computer next to Hunk, entering data on his patients when the light went off for room 523. "I got it, Hunk," Lance said.
"Say hi to your boyfriend," Hunk said, not looking up from his paperwork. Lance told him about the conversation he had with Keith, much to Hunk's amusement.
"I will," Lance said with a laugh.
Shiro was asleep in the chair, dozing in a position that looked uncomfortable to Lance. Lance made a mental note to bring a pillow for him and point out the other bed in the room. Keith was awake and glaring at him, his finger on the alert button. Lance put on his bright smile, which didn't do anything to make Keith's glare lessen.
"What do you need, Tiger?" he asked.
"It hurts."
"I'm sure it does," Lance said in his most sympathetic tone. "How long have you hurt?"
Keith shrugged, which seemed to aggravate his pain. He winced at least. "A while."
"You should have called me sooner," Lance gently admonished him. "I can give you a small dose of morphine, but not a full. It's too soon. You really should be sleeping."
"Can't."
Lance hummed as he administered the small dose. It was a little too close to his last dose, so Lance kept it to the minimum. It would ease the pain a little - enough, he hoped. Morphine was easy to get addicted to, and Lance didn't want that for Keith. He also added a dose of something to help Keith sleep.
Lance could see it took the edge off. Apparently, Keith was a lightweight, though, because that same unfocused gaze fixed on him, now accompanied by a dopey grin.
"Do I get your number now?" Keith asked.
"You have my number," Lance pointed out, quietly. "You just press that," he said, pointing to the call button, "and I'll be here right away."
Keith frowned as he turned his head to look at the button sitting innocently at the side of the bed. "No," he grumbled. "I can't text you on that."
"I don't think you can text me on anything right now."
"I want to sext you."
"That's a tempting offer, but I'm afraid you can't."
"Why?" His tone had turned to one of a petulant child.
"Why? I'm your nurse. I'm sure my boss wouldn't be happy."
"I'll fight him."
"It's a woman. You're going to fight a woman for me?"
"I'll fight anyone for you. Even you."
"Your seduction skills are the strangest I've ever seen," Lance commented.
"Are they working?"
"I don't know, Tiger, I usually don't fight the people I date."
"I won't fight you if you date me. I'll love you all the time."
"Now, that sounds more like it," Lance said, smiling at him. The smile Keith returned almost made Lance lose his reserve. Damn, why did Keith have to end up on his floor? He turned to leave - he still wanted to fetch that pillow and try to get Shiro to rest in the other bed.
"Don't leave me."
Lance paused, because Keith sounded frightened. It was such a change from the belligerence he'd seen from the wounded man. He turned back to look at Keith. His patient was staring at him, his eyes wide with fear.
Lance stepped back to the side of the bed where Keith's good hand fumbled to take his. Lance usually didn't let patients get handsy with him, but he believed his first role was to provide comfort. Sometimes, that meant touch and he sensed that Keith needed this reassurance. Lance knew he could keep it from being anything else, but something told him that this was necessary.
"I won't leave you, Tiger. I'll be right here. Try to get some sleep, ok? The more you sleep, the better you'll feel."
"Will I be ok?"
The fear in his voice made Lance's throat choke up. He was glad he was able to tell Keith the truth. While his injuries were grave, they weren't anything that should hinder him in life. They would heal up fine. Keith was a healthy, young man. It would take time and therapy, of course, but he'd be fine.
"You will, Tiger. I promise. I know it looks bad, and that it hurts, but you should be just fine."
The worry lines on Keith's forehead smoothed a bit and the glazed look came over his eyes as the morphine kicked in more. "Good. I want to dance with you at our wedding."
To say Lance's mouth went dry was an understatement, because he could picture it. He'd never pictured anything like that before with others he'd dated, but the image popped into his head the second Keith said that. He swallowed with difficulty and managed to say, "You have to catch me first, and you can't until you get better."
"I will," Keith mumbled, his eyelids drooping now. "I'm super fast and I'll buy new shoes so I'm even faster. You..."
Lance never heard the rest of it as Keith drifted off. He had other patients to check on. Rounds would start soon, but he couldn't pull himself away. He stood there holding Keith's hand, staring down at the young man. In sleep, he looked younger, and the bruising stood out more abruptly than before. Shit, Lance was in deep trouble.
He gently disentangled his fingers and laid Keith's hand gently on the patient's chest. With a sigh, he left the room and returned a few minutes later with one of the thin pillows of the hospital. He gently shook Shiro awake and directed the groggy man toward the other bed, murmuring that it would be okay to use it. He didn't think Shiro even woke up completely as he stumbled over to the bed and collapsed on it.
Now that everything seemed to be in order in Room 523, Lance took one last look at Keith and left the room, closing the door.
He visited Keith's room an hour later on rounds, but merely checked what he needed to check, his expression neutral and professional. Both Shiro and Keith were sound asleep, and he was grateful for that. He didn't think he could handle anything else from Keith at the moment.
At the end of Lance's shift, he did one last round through his patients during their breakfasts. Rose was happy to see him, of course. She had brushed her hair in time for his visit and made sure to wear her best housecoat. Her grandson had brought her bedclothes for her from home. Lance pressed his hand against his chest when he came in and told her he couldn't handle such beauty in the morning at the end of a long shift. She was delighted and he got his reward with the little cherry flavored candy he adored.
He saved his visit to Keith for the last. Both Shiro and Keith were awake when he came in. Keith's breakfast sat on the rolling tray table to the side of the bed. Keith's good arm was over his eyes and Shiro looked worried. His eyes when he looked at Lance were tired and red.
"Good morning," Lance said brightly.
"Lance," Shiro said and Lance could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "You're still here?"
"Twelve hour shift," he replied. "I'm at the end of it and doing the last set of rounds before I go."
Shiro gestured toward the slightly mussed and empty bed. "If that was your doing, thank you."
Lance grinned as he set Keith's meds on the tray table next to the untouched food. "My pleasure. You looked a little uncomfortable in the chair when I checked on Keith."
Shiro huffed a small laugh and patted the arm of the chair. "It's not a bad chair, but not made for sleeping. Give me my recliner any day."
"And how are you today, Tiger?" Lance asked as he looked over Keith's leg cast.
Keith just grunted.
"Can I get better than a caveman grunt, sweetheart?"
"Don't call me that," Keith spat out. "I'm not your sweetheart."
Lance felt his heart constrict a little, but this was to be expected. Morphine-induced flirting never carried over to consciousness. He figured that Keith wasn't really into him, so he honestly shouldn't be as hurt as he felt. Dammit, Lance, this is why we don't let ourselves get actually attached to patients.
So he went for humor instead, giving a wink to an amused Shiro. "Ah, the fickle emotions of the heart. Make me fall in love and toss me aside now that you're feeling better. But, I really need to know, Tiger, how you feel today."
Keith slid his arm up enough to glare at Lance. "It hurts."
"I know," Lance said. "I can give you a little more morphine before I head out, if you want. But that will be your last dose, I'm afraid. The day shift nurse isn't as generous as I am."
Lance took his vitals first, quickly and efficiently with as little emotion as possible. Keith was prickly and Lance knew it was from the pain. Shiro watched quietly, asking a few questions, which Lance happily answered. Keith didn't speak again until Lance was finished.
"You really should eat your breakfast, Tiger," he said. "You need to take your meds with food."
"Not hungry."
"You should be. I don't think you've eaten in a day."
"I ate before I crashed."
"Take your date out to dinner? Where'd you eat?"
"It wasn't a date," Keith growled. "I ate McDonald's after my shift."
"Ah. What kind of shift? Where do you work?"
"None of your business."
"Ok, ok," Lance said, holding up his hands. "But I have to insist. You need to eat."
"It looks disgusting."
"Well, sorry we can't afford a gourmet chef to suit your needs, but it's all you've got. I can't run out to McD's for you, you know."
Keith snorted, then protested when Lance pressed the button to adjust the bed to put Keith into a more seated position. "What are you doing?"
"I don't want you to choke. Now, come on, eat up. I have to leave soon, and I want to make sure you get something in your tummy."
"Where you going?"
"Home. For some much needed sleep. You've worn me out all night."
Keith's cheeks turned red through his scowl. He threw a glare at Shiro, who snorted with amusement. "Why do you need to go home?"
"My shift is over in a few. I can't stay here all day. I need some sleep so I can come back and deal with you tonight."
"When do you come back?"
"My shift is seven to seven," Lance said as he maneuvered the tray table to be over Keith. "So can you feed yourself or do you want me to?"
"I can do it," Keith snapped, fumbling to grab his spoon. He looked to be awkward and Lance thought he was probably right-handed, so using his left probably hindered him. Lance stood back, however, gathering up Keith's chart.
"Don't forget to take your meds. If you're a good boy and eat your breakfast, I'll give you that morphine."
Keith ate, a little clumsily, as Lance chatted pleasantly with Shiro. Shiro was a nice guy and Lance enjoyed talking to him about Shiro's classes he taught. Lance told the older man a little about his own family. He could tell Keith listened to him talk, though the patient concentrated on his food and didn't say anything.
Keith made it through half of his breakfast and that was satisfactory enough for Lance. "Alright, Tiger, that's good."
Keith growled at him, "Stop calling me that."
"I will when you stop talking to me like a Tiger," Lance said waving a hand. He administered the morphine dose and made a note of it in Keith's chart.
Once again, the dose took effect after a few minutes and Keith was all purring and flirty again. "Feeling better, Tiger?"
"Mmm...climb in here and find out."
Lance laughed, happier than he wanted to admit to hear that from Keith again. "Kind of hard to fit in that bed with those casts and IV lines."
"Take everything off, then," Keith ordered.
"I can't. If I do, you can't get better. And if you can't get better, you can't chase after me."
Keith worked that through his drug-muddled mind. His eyes and shoulders dropped a little and Lance smiled at Shiro. "I-I. Ugh, you're right. I hate to admit that."
"I'm smarter than I look, Tiger."
"I like that you call me that."
"You yelled at me earlier for calling you that."
"No. I couldn't yell at you."
"You told me you'd fight me."
"I'll fight anyone who'd fight you."
"You'd fight yourself?"
"Yeah. I'd punch myself if I fought you. I can't fight you. I love you."
Holy fuck why did Keith have to be like this. Patients had said that before, but this. This was too much. Because he actually wanted Keith to love him, he thought. Fuck, where did that come from?
"That's nice to hear, Tiger. Let's see if you think that when you're feeling better. Then we'll talk." Lance smiled again at Shiro. "You probably should go and get some sleep yourself, Shiro," Lance advised him. "Keith needs you, but you won't be any help if you're dead."
Shiro chuckled. "Okay, Lance. I'll take a break and go home."
"Keith'll be asleep again soon. I added a sedative to get him some rest. He should be out most of the day. His body needs rest more than anything and he can't do that flirting with the nurses." Shiro laughed outright at that.
"I'm not flirting with anyone else," Keith objected.
"You'll forget all about me once the next shift comes in," Lance said to him.
"I'll never forget you. I love you."
"Good to know, Tiger. We'll see you tonight." With a good day to Shiro, Lance left the room.
His relief was at the main desk. Hunk stood there, waiting for Lance so they could walk out together. "Breakfast?" Hunk asked.
"Sure. Let me hand off first and we can grab something at Denny's if you want?"
"Sounds good."
"I'm glad you're finally here," Nancy, the day shift RN said as Lance strolled into the main desk area.
"Anything wrong?"
"Your boyfriend has been asking for you all day." She sounded irritated.
He frowned. "Boyfriend? I mean, I know Rose is my girlfriend," he tried to joke. He hoped she didn't mean Keith.
"Keith. Apparently you're marrying him."
"What?"
"He's told me that a million times today," she said, rolling her eyes. Nancy was an older woman who had little to no sense of humor. She was a perfectly competent nurse, but Lance and Hunk privately thought she was terrible with her bedside manner.
"Oh, that," he laughed nervously. Nancy was the type to turn him in for inappropriate behavior. He had explained to her, though, this morning that he gave Keith morphine. She should know that any morphine influenced talk didn't mean anything. "You know how patients can be on morphine."
"He hasn't had any since the dose you gave him this morning."
Interesting. The loopiness should have worn off after a few hours of sleep. She must be exaggerating. Keith probably said it a few times that morning and then not again. He tried to be flippantly nonchalant. "Oh, you know Nancy. I get engaged a few times a day here. I'm sorry if he was bugging you."
She frowned at him, then turned to head toward the nurse's room where their lockers were. Hunk chuckled. "She's just jealous that she can't find love with a patient like you can."
"Not with those eyebrows," Lance said viciously. He normally never said mean things about anyone, but Nancy tended to bring that out of him.
He gathered his patient's charts, ready to prepare himself for the evening. He was looking through Rose's when he heard his name. He turned his head and saw Shiro at the nearby elevators, cup of coffee in hand, which he lifted in greeting. The elevator doors were sliding shut, so he must have just arrived.
"Hey, Shiro," he greeted.
"Took your advice and got some rest. How's Keith today?"
"I haven't seen him yet," Lance said. "I just walked in. Checking on his chart now and will be there in a little bit."
"Ah yes, it is just past seven isn't it. Sorry. My timing is a little off today."
"Completely understandable. Oh, this is our Shift Supervisor, Hunk," he said, introducing his friend. "Hunk, this is Shiro. Keith's brother."
"Nice to meet you," Hunk said.
"Likewise. Thanks for everything you're doing for my brother."
Hunk, ever humble where praise was concerned, waved that off. "It's all Lance."
"And he's doing a wonderful job," Shiro said with a laugh. "At least keeping me smiling."
Lance grinned. "Well, I've been looking forward to seeing my Tiger all day."
"I know he's eager to see you," Shiro said, giving him a little wink.
Lance actually blushed a little, but he laughed. "See you in a few!"
"You have a crush on him," Hunk mentioned when Shiro had gone.
"Who? Shiro?"
"No, Keith."
"Pftt," Lance hissed. "You know me. My heart belongs to Rose."
"Mhm," Hunk hummed and it was a doubtful little hum. Lance ignored him to continue looking through the charts.
"Hello!" Lance sang as he walked into Keith's room. He was concerned over Keith's chart. It didn't look like Nancy had given Keith any pain meds at all. The poor guy was probably hurting. Lance wasn't about to give him morphine, but Nancy could have at least given him something to take the edge off. The rest of his vitals, at least, looked good, though his last blood pressure reading was elevated.
"Hi again, Lance," Shiro said. His tone was more subdued, which also caused Lance some concern. Keith didn't answer him. His expression was set into something Lance would describe as stoic.
"How you feeling, Tiger?" Lance asked when he moved over to Keith to take the blood pressure reading.
"Fine," Keith growled.
"You don't look fine. Do you have any pain?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you want me to give you something for it?"
"No."
"You don't have to suffer, you know."
"Where have you been?"
The abrupt change in conversation put Lance off his routine. He fumbled with the cuff as he put it around Keith's good arm. "Home. Sleeping. I was up late taking care of someone last night."
Keith scoffed, but didn't respond. Lance went through the motions of taking his blood pressure reading, then checked his IV lines, noting that Nancy must have removed the morphine drip. He silently checked the rest of Keith's readouts. Keith wasn't due for meds for another two hours, and he made mental note of that.
"Did you eat dinner?" Lance asked.
"Yeah."
"Any good?"
"No."
"I'll get you a snack to take your meds with later," Lance promised. "But I really think I should order some pain meds for you now."
"No."
"Tiger, please," Lance said. "I don't want to see you in pain."
"I can tough it out."
"I'm sure you can, but you don't need to."
"I-I," and Keith faltered, then looked away. "Shiro told me what I said on them. I don't want to do that again."
Lance felt his heart plummet, then sternly scolded himself in his thoughts. He knew better, of course, but knowing Keith wasn't into him did sting. He put a smile on, though he didn't feel any sort of humor with it. "If you knew how many love confessions I've had from people under the influence of morphine, you wouldn't feel embarrassed."
Keith frowned, though he still didn't look at Lance. "Oh."
"Yeah. So don't worry about it. And the painkillers I want to give you now won't mess with your head. You might feel maybe how you feel when you're just getting tipsy from drinking, but you won't be completely loopy. It will only take the edge off so the pain won't be so sharp."
Keith nodded and Lance patted him on the shoulder. "I'll go get them now."
The next week and a half went by in a blur. Lance worked three days on, two days off, two days on, three days off - all twelve-hour shifts. He didn't mind the shift. It gave him every other weekend off, though he slept through a good chunk of the first part. The three twelves in a row were the hardest, especially on the night shift, but he enjoyed his co-workers and his patients.
Now that he had Keith, he enjoyed it more. Keith progressively got better. He couldn't be discharged because of the severity of his leg injury, combined with his arm. He wouldn't be able to use a wheelchair or crutches, so in the hospital he stayed. His recovery was smooth, however, and Lance was happy to see that he wasn't as grumpy as he was the first few days.
Keith was due to be in the hospital for at least six weeks. His leg would still be in a cast, but his arm should be healed by then. He was out of traction, at least, and by the third week, he was attending physical therapy to keep his muscles from atrophying. The therapy was during the day, so Lance was never around for that, but Keith's mood improved a great deal once he was able to get out of bed and see something besides the four walls of his room.
Four walls that were, now, cheerier than before. Shiro brought in favorite things of Keith's to put around the room and Lance contributed more pictures from his trips to Cuba - beautiful beach sunsets, animal pictures that Keith loved, and even a few pictures of Art Deco buildings in Havana. When he found out from Shiro that Keith loved hippos, Lance drew a hippo on his white board and found a stuffed hippo in the local toy store that sat on Keith's bedside table.
Lance generally spoiled all his patients (one reason he was a popular nurse on the floor), but he went all out to spoil Keith. He made it seem like his care of Keith was business as usual, but Keith had to have realized the difference between how Lance treated him as opposed to how the other nurses treated him. At this point, Lance didn't care.
They got to know each other over the course of the six weeks. Lance maybe lingered longer than normal in Keith's room while doing his rounds. Maybe. He wouldn't admit it, not even to Hunk, who for the first time didn't tease Lance about Keith. Hunk teased Lance about his playful flirting with all the other patients, but he didn't about Keith. Lance would deny he was flirting anyway. Those first couple of days, yeah, but that was only because Keith was on painkillers and loopy. He didn't flirt with Keith after that talk.
Oh, but did he want to. As he got to know Keith, he found that Keith was almost exactly what he was looking for. Bad boy image with heart of gold? Yes, he was weak for that. Keith did look like a bad boy, though a laughable version to be sure. One couldn't look too bad-boyish wrapped in a hospital gown, but Lance had an imagination. Imagination enough to picture Keith in black leather, black jeans. Maybe a little red for a punch of color. But red, since that screamed danger too.
He knew Keith had a motorcycle, though it was totaled in the crash. He wasn't sure if Keith would get a new one. He hadn't really talked much about that aspect of the crash. It wasn't strange for an accident victim to want no association with the thing they crashed. However, the thought of Keith on a motorcycle left him sleepless many mornings after his shift.
Keith's hair was getting longer and he now often had Lance tie it back for him. These were the hardest times for Lance. To card his fingers gently through the soft black locks, carefully pulling it back and tying it off with an elastic did things to his heart. It all came about the third week when Lance came in at the beginning of the night. He literally stopped short when he got a look at Keith, who returned his wide-eyed stare with a curious one.
"What?"
"Your hair," Lance blurted.
"Oh," Keith said, raising his good arm to run his hand over his head. "It's getting long and I can't exactly cut it. I had to put it back."
However, Keith putting it up with one arm in a cast didn't result in anything good. It was a mess. A cute mess, to be sure, but it looked like a three year old had done it.
"It's a mess," Lance said. Where was his filter today?
Keith frowned, his cheeks flushing. "You try to tie your hair up with one hand," he snapped.
Lance hated reminding patients of their injuries and illnesses. Especially active people who were immobilized. He flushed as well, stumbling out an apology like a guilty kid. Trying to save face, or at least not get in trouble, he tried humor with Keith, since he knew that usually worked.
"I don't have anything to tie up," he said, pointing to his short hair. "Sometimes my niece puts barrettes or hair clips in my hair, but I can't make a cute ponytail."
The hint of a smile tugged at the side of Keith's lips. Lance was relieved that he didn't seem truly mad at him. "If you think you can do better, have at it."
Lance gulped. Were his fingers itching to touch Keith's hair? Yes. Did he want to? No. That was intimate, and he did enough intimate things with Keith already in his role of nurse. Helping the young man go to the bathroom the first few weeks was high on his list of things that already embarrassed him. In spite of seeing many men and women in their most private areas, seeing Keith left him a blushing mess for hours. He had seen dozens - no hundreds - of dicks in the course of his treating his patients.
Keith's though? Perfect and made his mouth water. He remained professional. He could tell it embarrassed Keith as much as it did him. How Lance maintained his calm and clinical demeanor, he'd never know. But every time he had to help Keith during that time, he spent a good fifteen minutes in the employee bathroom freaking out.
Thankfully by now, Keith could use the urinal on his own without assistance, though he was still embarrassed when Lance had to collect it and help Keith wash his hands. Now he wanted help with his hair? Dios mio, what did he do to deserve this?
The first time was almost a religious experience for Lance. He took the elastic holding the horrible ponytail out, then slid it onto his wrist for now. Then, combing his fingers gently through Keith's tresses, he thrilled at the texture. He expected soft, but this was so much better than he'd imagined. Keith's hair was always clean now - the day shift nurse usually helped him in the bathroom to clean himself. Lance didn't expect this silky mass to feel so good against his skin.
It was tangled, of course. Keith's haphazard ponytail and generally lying on it so much guaranteed that. His fingers patiently worked out the knots and tangles, occasionally caressing against Keith's scalp, which elicited a hum from the young man.
God this shouldn't be as erotic as it felt. This was a fucking sterile and boring hospital room. He was a nurse helping a patient. Why did it feel like foreplay? Because he wanted foreplay with Keith? Wanted to straddle him like a motorcycle and ride him for hours? Dammit, he had to get his shit together. This was not something he should be thinking about.
He cleared his throat, "Um, do you have a comb, maybe? Your hair's all tangled."
"Sure, it's in the bathroom," Keith replied in a quiet voice. Did Lance imagine that?
With the comb now in hand, he forcefully pulled it through Keith's hair, tugging a little harsher than he normally would have. It broke the spell he felt poking at him. That was good at least.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Keith asked, his tone now more of a complaint.
"I'll have you know that I'm an expert at hair styling for long hair." That got an amused grunt from his patient. "I am! I do my niece's hair all the time."
"And she still talks to you?"
Lance gave a small tug to a lock of hair he was currently detangling, which made Keith 'OW' in protest. "Yes she does. And begs her Tio Lance to do her hair all the time. So there."
Keith laughed, "Ok."
Keith was happy with the result. At least, it looked neater than his own attempts, and since then, whenever Lance was on duty, one of the requests was to put up Keith's hair. Lance noticed after that first time that the hair was usually just a little damp, indicating that Keith waited to wash up before he came in and Lance told himself not to read anything into that.
Four weeks after Keith arrived, Rose was discharged. Lance stayed past his shift to make sure she got all her things in order, and to give her a hug before her grandson wheeled her out of the room, her arms laden with flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals. She cried as she hugged him, sobbing out that she didn't know what she would do without him, and that made him cry. All the hard work he put into his job made moments like this all worth it.
This came after a long shift after a too-short weekend where Lance spent all his time cleaning his apartment and doing laundry. He didn't even have the willingness to go clubbing - which he technically hadn't done since Keith became his patient. He told himself and Hunk that it was a mere coincidence. He almost believed it.
As such, missing his now second favorite patient, Lance was somewhat subdued that night when he checked in on Keith, who was alone in his room, frowning at the television.
"Took you long enough," Keith growled without preamble when Lance came in.
"Whoa, Tiger, you're not my only responsibility," Lance said. Even Lance could tell he didn't have his normal pep and cheeriness - at least it was more forced today, and he felt Keith's intense stare as he checked over Keith's leg cast. Keith was more stable now, free of IV's and only had a heart monitor on as a matter of course.
"What's wrong with you?" Keith asked in his blunt way.
"Oh, you know, weekend too short, didn't do anything but domestic chores, girlfriend left me today...the usual."
Keith didn't say anything in response and Lance glanced up at his face. He couldn't interpret the expression, which looked to be a cross between anger and confusion. "What's wrong with you, Tiger?"
"You have a girlfriend?" Keith blurted out.
"Had, Tiger. Past tense."
"I thought..." Keith paused with a frown.
"Thought what?"
"Nevermind."
Lance hummed. "You feeling ok today? How's your pain levels?"
Keith took a moment to answer, then said in a flat voice. "Good. No pain. Only itching. It's driving me crazy."
"Ugh, I know. That sucks about wearing casts. I think I hate that more than how the cast restricts everything."
"You've had a cast?"
"Mhm. Broke my wrist surfing once."
"Oh."
"Let me get your blood pressure real quick," Lance said.
Keith obediently held out his arm. It was routine for him now, so he automatically positioned himself each time Lance had to do it. He wrapped the cuff around Keith's arm, noting that Keith wasn't looking at him now. He started the machine and waited. "Need me to do your hair for you, Tiger?" he asked a little hopefully.
"I didn't realize you had a girlfriend," Keith said instead of answering.
Lance huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, she was pretty awesome." Was Keith...jealous?
"I'm sure she was."
"So many fond memories, you know?" Lance said, injecting a tone of nostalgia into his voice. This was going to be funny.
"No doubt."
"She had the prettiest hair," he said fondly.
Keith now just hummed.
"Rose," Lance supplied. "Pretty name for a pretty woman."
"It is."
"But she left me, the heartbreaker. Off to find some other poor young boy to ruin."
"She doesn't sound nice."
"Oh, but she was. She cared about me so much, she kept trying to set me up with her grandson."
Keith's head whipped around to him, but Lance was busy with rolling up the cuff and placing it on the machine. Lance could see his confused expression out of the corner of his eye. "Grandson?"
"Mhm. Nice enough guy, but not my type."
"I don't understand."
"My girlfriend, Keith. Keep up." He enjoyed watching Keith struggle to figure it out.
"She's a patient here?"
"She was. Hip replacement. Still feisty as ever and only seventy-one years old."
"You're dating an old woman?"
Lance started laughing, "No, Keith. Not seriously or anything. I called her my girlfriend. She snuck me candy and was a joy as a patient. She always dressed in her best nightgown for me and did her hair up real nice. She was funny and sweet and I did love her. She was discharged today."
It seemed like Keith finally put the pieces together and he let Lance see a small smile. "Oh, ok. I get it."
"I will miss her. The stories that wild woman could tell. Honestly glad I'm not really dating her. I don't think I could have handled it."
Keith chuckled. "I forgot you're the so-called Romeo of Altea hospital."
"Who told you that?"
Keith shrugged. "I have my sources."
Lance huffed as if offended. "Nice."
Lance left the room with a smile on his face.
Keith was restless his last two weeks. Lance could tell he itched to get outside. Talking with him over the last few weeks revealed that Keith was quite an active young man, so Lance knew the restrictions of his injuries probably drove him insane. Until his cast was off his arm, however, there wasn't much Keith could do.
He fretted often about his ability to use his hand once the cast was off. He'd expressed this fear to Lance late one night when he couldn't sleep. Lance came in on his rounds to find Keith wide awake, but staring at the ceiling.
"You ok, Tiger?"
"No."
"How come? Talk to your Lance and tell him what's wrong."
"Am I really going to be ok?"
"I told you a million times you will be. Don't you believe me?"
"My whole career depends on my hands, Lance. If I can't tattoo..." he trailed off.
"This shouldn't affect your ability, Keith. You broke your arm bones, not your fingers..."
"But I use my whole arm when I draw. If I can't keep my hands steady..." Keith interrupted.
"Keith," Lance said, switching into his most reassuring tone, because he understood the fear Keith had. "Keith, your prognosis is great, you know. You've been so diligent with the physical therapy. There's been no muscle or mobility loss that the therapist can detect."
"How do you know?"
"You're my patient. I check up on you. I talked with Greg and he said everything looks great. You probably won't be able to tattoo right away, but I wouldn't suggest it with your leg as it is, anyway. If you keep up with therapy while your leg is still healing, I don't see any reason why you won't be able to keep working."
Keith was silent for a few minutes and Lance waited. "Thanks, Lance," he finally said.
"Any time, Tiger."
"I mean it. You're a good nurse. The best. I know I'm just one in a long line of people, someone you'll forget about once I'm gone, but I can tell you care about your patients."
Lance didn't know what to say. Keith normally didn't talk like this. He cleared his throat, "Well, yeah, I do care." He fumbled with the stethoscope hanging around his neck. "And you're not just a patient to me."
"I'm not?"
"No, and I won't forget you when you go." It was too much, though, the way Keith's shining eyes turned to him. Lance snapped back into professional mode. "Can I get you anything else?"
After a long moment of staring at him in a way that severed every one of Lance's nerves, Keith slowly shook his head. "No, I'm good."
"Call me if you need me," he spat out hastily and scurried out of the room.
"I'm in deep trouble, Hunk," Lance said, propping his elbows at the nurse's station desk and hiding his face in his hands.
Hunk leaned forward to take Keith's chart, which Lance had dropped on the counter. "Now why?"
"It's Keith."
"Finally admitting it, eh?"
Lance dropped his fingers enough to glare over them at Hunk. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your major crush on Keith?"
"I don't have a major crush on Keith!"
"Keep telling yourself that."
"I can't have one, Hunk. It's against the rules."
Hunk shrugged. "He won't be a patient forever."
"True." Lance sighed, dropping his arms onto the counter. "It's just. I think there could be something there. I think he could like me, but I can't be sure."
"It certainly seems like it."
"What if it's just a transference thing? Like I'm taking care of him? Or the opposite of the Florence Nightingale? Actually, I guess you could say I'm suffering from the Florence Nightingale Effect."
"Look, Keith's been here five weeks," Hunk said. "You've gotten to know him. I don't think it's merely a physical attraction thing. You've had good-looking patients in the past. You've always kept a professional distance. It's actually amazing that you're as controlled as you are. He's gotten to know you too. I've heard you. You're like an open book to him. If he's fallen for you, it's more than a transference, or a crush on his nurse. He might like the real you."
"What do I do?"
"I honestly don't know."
"It'd be creepy if I used his file to find out where he lived or his contact info. And I can't bring myself to ask him for it, or give him my number."
"Hopefully you can run into him outside of the hospital. Ask him to give you a tattoo."
Lance gaped at Hunk. It wasn't a bad idea; he simply didn't think he could do it.
"Why are you here?" Nancy asked, looking over her glasses at Lance.
"Wanted to say goodbye to one of my patients," Lance said with a yawn. He'd been relieved at seven that morning and should be home, but he knew Keith was getting released around ten. He'd gone home for a quick breakfast and nap and returned exhausted, but freshened up. He was off the next three days, so he wasn't bothered to lose some sleep today. He'd say goodbye to Keith, go home and sleep, and return to his normal life without Keith in it every day.
The thought depressed him. He'd gotten used to Keith's grumpy face, soft smile, dry sense of humor, his shy and awkward way of talking, and the way his lips quirked every time Lance called him 'Tiger'. He tried not to think about how wonderful it would be to wake up to that every day. His damn mind created domestic scenario after domestic scenario with Keith, making his heart ache with want.
And it wasn't just Keith. Lance had gotten to know his brother, Shiro, quite well, as well as Keith's best friend, Pidge – a sarcastic young woman who kept Lance in stitches every time she could squeeze out a visit. He felt like he knew Keith and those closest to him. It felt like they were already at least friends. To have that taken from his life would leave a hole he didn't think he'd ever fill.
"You're not supposed to get attached to them," Nancy said in a disapproving tone.
"I'm not. I like saying goodbye to my long time patients."
"It's not professional."
Lance smiled at her, determined not to rise to the bait. He knew she'd turn him into their management if she had a chance, and he wouldn't give her that chance. If he ever developed anything with Keith, he'd make sure never to mention it to her if he could help it.
"Lance!"
Shiro's delighted voice greeted him, and Lance turned around wearing a large grin. "Hey, Shiro!"
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be off now?"
Nancy made a slight noise through her nose and walked off down the hall. Ignoring her, Lance nodded. "Yeah, but I couldn't leave without seeing Keith off."
"That's dedication," Shiro said, his smile settling into something that seemed more like a smirk.
Lance felt his cheeks warm, but he bobbed his head. "Well, I've been taking care of him for six weeks. I like to say goodbye to all my long term patients." He tried to make it into a joke. "You know, wave at them as I kick them out the door."
Shiro chuckled. "That's nice of you." He pointed down the hall.
"Keith's cast should be off by now," Lance said. "I think he's just signing papers and getting his home care instruction."
"Good, I'll head down there now. Anything I should know?"
Lance shook his head. "Just keep up with the physical therapy for his arm and leg and try to make him be careful."
Shiro laughed. "Easier said than done. Come with me?"
Lance blinked in surprise. "Uh, sure!"
He walked with Shiro down to Keith's room and stepped in after the older man. Keith sat on the bed, free of the arm cast, but still sporting the leg cast. His leg was propped up on the chair Shiro usually used. His long hair spilled across his shoulders over the red t-shirt Shiro had brought in for him the day before. Baggy black shorts were already on. His face lit up when he saw Shiro, then looked confused when his eyes slid over to Lance.
"Lance?"
"Hey!" Lance said brightly.
"What are you doing here?"
"Came to say goodbye to my Tiger, of course."
Keith stared at him, mouth hanging open, which gave Lance the mad desire to laugh at him. As if realizing it, Keith snapped his mouth shut, "Uh, um, that's. Nice of you."
"Couldn't let you think you're just another patient to me."
Keith chuckled a little. "It's weird seeing you in regular clothes."
"Same, though I think I dressed a little better than you."
"I can't fit my dress pants over this," Keith said, pointing at his leg cast.
"Well, that's true at least."
Shiro handed a little bag to Keith, but before any of them could say anything else, Nancy came in pushing a wheelchair. Lance saw Keith hastily stuff something into the bag before he volunteered to help Keith get into the chair.
"Let me do it, Lance," Shiro said. "I need to get used to helping him for the next couple of weeks."
"Oh, good," Lance said, trying for a breezy tone, but falling flat. "I'm tired of hauling him around."
Shiro gently moved Keith's leg from the chair and helped his brother stand. Keith had been getting up and moving around for a few weeks already, so the movement wasn't a strain on him. Lance knew his doctors and Nancy had already gone over the use of the wheelchair and his work restrictions. Once settled in the chair, Keith looked relieved to be heading out the door for the last time.
They walked out to the elevator and Keith said his goodbyes to the day staff. Most of them expressed both their happiness that he was healthy enough to leave and sorrow to see him go. Lance, of course, had heard that in spite of Keith's grumpiness, he was a staff favorite – most of the long terms developed that status just from the length of contact.
"You ready to get home, Keith?" Shiro asked.
"Yeah," Keith said, but he didn't sound enthused. He sounded more nervous than anything.
"Don't worry, Tiger. You'll be fine," Lance assured him.
"I know that," Keith snapped.
Lance held up his hands in defense. "Whoa there. It sounded like you were nervous. Sorry."
"Keith…" Shiro said, his voice sounding a little disappointed.
Keith grunted, shot his brother a 'look', then looked down into his lap where he clutched his hippo and the little paper bag Shiro had brought him.
Lance, feeling deflated by Keith's attitude, followed the brothers out of the elevator to the door. Shiro smiled at Keith and said, "Can you keep an eye on him, Lance? I have to bring my car up to the front door."
"Of course!"
Keith stared after Shiro as he strode out of the door. His hands were practically mangling the little bag now. Lance gripped the handles of the wheelchair. "Can I roll you outside?" he asked.
Keith started – a slight jump in his chair – and nodded. Lance pushed him toward the doors, which automatically slid open to allow him to get Keith into the covered part of the drive in front of the hospital. Lance placed Keith near one of the benches and engaged the wheel brake, then sat down facing Keith, who wouldn't look at him. 'Rude,' Lance thought. 'I come in a couple of hours after my shift to say goodbye and this asshole won't even look at me? I thought we were at least friendly.'
The hospital was a busy one in the crowded section of the city. Lance knew Shiro probably had to park quite a ways away, so they should have a good amount of time before their last exchange, but Keith seemed bent on brooding silence.
"Here," Keith said suddenly, thrusting the bag into Lance's surprised hands.
"What's this?"
"It's for you," Keith said, frowning down at the hippo that Lance gave him weeks ago.
"Oh," Lance said, taken aback.
The paper bag was now wrinkled and worn, due to Keith worrying it so much with his fingers. Lance reached in and the first thing his fingertips felt was soft plush. With a quick, curious glance at Keith, he pulled the object out.
It was a shark. A small stuffed shark. He stared at it, blinking a few times. How did Keith know it was his favorite animal? He didn't recall mentioning if to him. "A shark?"
"Hunk said it was your favorite." Keith's tone was so grumpy, Lance wondered at it.
"It is," Lance said, looking it over. It was incredibly cute. He'd cuddle it close while he slept – thinking of Keith, he added in his thoughts bitterly.
"Shiro found it for me. I obviously couldn't go shopping."
"I'll have to thank him, too," Lance said. "Thank you for this. I love it, but I don't understand?"
Keith's fingers eased around the hippo, though his focus remained on it. "There's more."
Lance didn't understand for a second, then realized Keith meant more in the bag, so he peeked. Sure enough here was a small envelope in it. Placing the shark on his lap, he pulled it out, opened it, and pulled out a simple card with "Thank You" on the front. Another quick glance at Keith showed him that Keith's cheeks were now a bright red. Lance's heart nearly gave out, but he opened the card, catching the smaller card that fell out. He glanced at it before reading – it looked like Keith's business card for the tattoo parlor. The card was written in shaky writing, the same writing Lance saw when Keith practiced using his right hand:
Thanks for all the care you've shown me while I've been in the hospital. The other nurses were great, but there is something about you that's special. I know I was usually grumpy and mean, but you always made me feel better every time you came in the room. I couldn't wait to see your smile every day and hated the days you were off. I know this is weird, but I'm going to miss you. I'd like to see you outside the hospital if you want. My number is on my card if you want to do something sometime.
-Keith
Lance stared at the card in his hand, the other hand lowering to rest atop the stuffed shark Keith had given him. The awkwardness and abruptness was so Keith. Did Keith want to go out? Or be friends? It went out of bounds of his ethics training, but technically Keith was no longer a patient. Still, the doubts and arguments he'd been making in his head the past few weeks reared up again, and Lance wanted to make sure this wasn't the Florence Nightingale Effect before fully letting his heart go on Keith.
"You're not saying anything," Keith accused.
Lance glanced up to see Keith glaring at him. He almost laughed at his Tiger. "Do you want me to be honest?"
"I can take honest."
Lance sighed, trying to think of how he wanted to say this. "Does this mean you want to go out with me?"
Keith frowned, then jerked his head in a nod.
"Look, it's common for patients to feel something for their nurses or doctors. And vice versa. It's called the Nightingale Effect. The amount of care and contact – the way a nurse or doctor appears to be saving your life – it can all make you think there's more there than there is."
Keith's mind turned that over. Lance could practically see the gears turning in Keith's head; his expression was scrunched. "Do you think I don't feel what I think I feel?"
"No. I'm not saying your feelings aren't valid. I just question if they're genuine."
"Do you want them to be genuine?"
"I don't know how to answer that. Am I attracted to you? Yes. But I don't know if my feelings are genuine either."
"How can we figure this out?" Keith asked.
Lance glanced down at the card again. His gut told him Keith was genuine. Though the writing was still somewhat shaky, Lance could tell he wrote the card with a lot of care to keep it legible. Lance knew how unsteadily Keith had been writing as he practiced. To find out his favorite animal and get it for him showed there was a level of care there. No one had done that before. "I guess take it slow? Maybe not see each other for awhile? Text or message or talk on the phone. See where it goes from there."
"I'll do whatever you want," Keith promised. "I need you to know that I really feel this way."
"I need you to know that too."
"Shit. Shiro," Keith growled, making Lance laugh.
"I'm going to miss your growls, Tiger," he said lightly.
"You'll hear them again."
Putting the card and shark back in the bag, Lance put it on the bench so he could help Shiro get Keith in the roomy SUV. "Take care of yourself, Tiger. I'll be sure to text you soon." He closed the door and watched as Keith rolled down the window. Shiro shook his hand and thanked him for everything, adding that he couldn't wait to see Lance again. Lance just smiled.
"You take care, Lance," Keith said softly as Shiro strode around the car to the driver's side.
Lance stepped back and waved as Shiro drove Keith away from him. His heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach. He sighed and retrieved Keith's gift, holding the precious bag to his chest. Slow. They'd take it slow.
Five months later
Lance fidgeted at the coffee shop. He got there early. Half an hour early and was already seated at one of the tiny tables in the corner, gripping the warm mug between his hands. His head was angled to watch out the window, to watch the snowflakes filter down from the sky to cloak the ugliness of the city street with a layer of softness and beauty. He was a child of summer, but he did love the winter as well. Only when it snowed. He could do without the cold.
His fingers tapped against the mug as he stared out the window, refusing to look once again at his phone to see the time. His scarf was still wrapped around his neck, though he had taken off his coat. The café was warm, but he never adapted to the cold of the area and generally wore his scarf all the time. Except at work, of course.
He should find himself a scarf that had nursing stuff on it? There had to be something on the internet, he thought. You could find anything there. It did get cold sometimes and a scarf might help and he didn't think his bosses would object to his wearing something with maybe stethoscopes on it. He made a mental note to ask.
His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, feeling his heart leap up into his throat. He opened the texting app and read "Almost there". He took two or three deep breaths to calm his racing pulse.
It had been so long since they'd seen each other in person. Pics sent on the phone or social media didn't compare to actual face to face, of course. They'd kept to their promise. Take it slow. Make sure their feelings were genuine.
They knew now they were. Not a day went by where Lance and Keith weren't texting, calling, and contacting each other. The method allowed them to be themselves and to open up easier. Lance found out that Keith may not have been great at expressing himself verbally, but his art and his words, were beautiful. He could speak to Lance over text more than he ever did in person as Lance's patient. The pressure of being face to face wasn't there, so Keith was able to talk freely on the phone as well, and Lance was reintroduced to a man who had simple dreams, a big heart, a goofy side, a sense of humor, and a love for Lance that went beyond anything Lance could have dreamt of.
Lance, in turn, opened himself to Keith in a way he'd never done with anyone before, save Hunk. Keith's patience inspired him and left him eternally grateful. While he regretted the way Keith came into his life, Lance thought it was fate that brought Keith to him. Their personalities, able to come to light easily without he pressure of dating, played well off each other and Lance had a feeling this could be something permanent.
If they could get through this first meeting.
The way his heart dropped, then bounced back up into his throat, as he caught sight of Keith walking past the window, hunched over in the cold and hands shoved into his jacket, sealed the deal on his feelings. It was love. Genuine love. He wouldn't feel this way at the mere sight of the other man if he didn't feel it.
Keith entered, reaching up a hand to smooth out his hair as he glanced around the café, eyes searching. His face lit up with excitement when he met Lance's eyes – Lance, who had stood the moment he saw Keith, with his hand placed over his racing heart.
Keith now strode over to the table and a dry corner of Lance's mind marveled at the fact that Keith only had a slight limp. Other than that, he looked fit and healthy and perfect healed. He crossed the café quickly and Lance scrambled to try and remember what he planned to say.
"Lance…" Keith whispered, out of breath, but with the biggest smile Lance had yet seen on his face. They stood looking at each other a moment before jumping in for the hug. Keith's cold nose pressed into his neck, Keith's face burrowing into the warmth of the scarf. Lance thrilled at the contact, his skin heated from it in spite of the layers of wool between them and the cold emanating from Keith's coat.
Lance hugged him fiercely, his arms tight around Keith's waist, pressing the cold and warm body as close to him as possible – as if enough pressure would fuse them into one. How could he ever think his feelings weren't genuine?
They pulled back after some time and looked at each other again and, without a word, dove in for the first kiss, a mess at first, but one that soon fell into an easy rhythm of push and pull, softness and chapped, sweet and loving, chaste and passionate. They were in a public space, so they kept it short, but it held a promise of so much more.
Lance reached up when they pulled away again to see Keith smiling at him – his fingers gently twirling a lock of Keith's hair in his hands before tucking it back. He could read his future in Keith's eyes – a future constantly promised over the past few months, but now here to deliver it in person. Lance couldn't believe his luck, couldn't believe that fate had decided this perfect-for-him man was here, offering himself up to him, waiting for Lance to offer himself up. Lance's emotions were overwhelmed with everything he wanted to say, but he could only manage one thing.
"Hey, Tiger."
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