Prompt 45: "You're seriously like a man-child."
Summary: Modern AU set in the time frame of early Season 2. A bit of fluff because after Sunday, we deserve it.
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for still being with me! I can't believe after this one, we're in the final 5! I'm going to be sad to see this series go, but I'm so excited for the feeling of completion and for new writings to come.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Nurse Shelagh Mannion counted the steps towards the break room as her heart started racing in anticipation. Five more steps. She could taste the sweet concoction of freedom and a fresh cup of tea on her tongue for the first time all day. Between her own patients and covering for Nurse Noakes while she was on her honeymoon, she'd been on her feet since 5am.
"While Chummy is having her feet massaged on some beachside somewhere…" she thought somewhat bitterly before shaking off the irritation she knew would disappear with just a few moments of quiet.
Three more steps.
She was practically drooling at the thought of sitting down.
One more step.
Her sore fingers brushed the door handle.
"Oh, Shelagh, there you are!"
Any other woman with even a fraction less patience than her would have strangled Trixie Franklin. As it was, Shelagh was a paradigm of professionalism and so she gritted her teeth and reluctantly pulled her hand from the door to paradise.
"Yes, Nurse Franklin?" she asked, her jaw tight. The younger nurse seemed to get the message, but Shelagh was the senior midwife on duty that day and there wasn't anyone else to go to.
"I'm sorry to bother you, I know it's been a hellish day, but could you come take a look at Mrs. McGinnis?" Trixie asked hurriedly, but not without a sincerely apologetic tone. "Baby's being a bit stubborn and mother isn't exactly cooperating…" Shelagh could have cried. None of them wanted to be on call with Mrs. McGinnis. The woman was insufferable and never wanted to listen to a word they said during her pregnancy, so Shelagh was sure she was being a right peach during labor.
"Of course." Shelagh sighed.
"Thank you." Trixie said, relieved. "I would've asked Doctor Turner, but he left to pick up Timothy from school an hour ago and he still isn't back."
"Still?" Shelagh asked incredulously. Trixie shrugged. Making a mental note to give Patrick a stern talking-to the next time she saw him, Shelagh stomped off towards Mrs. McGinnis' room with Trixie following her, equally amused and terrified.
It was seven hours of blood, sweat, tears, and screaming from Mrs. McGinnis later (most of which the nurses did as well) when Shelagh realized today was the second day in a row she'd thought of Doctor Turner as Patrick. It wasn't that his name was forbidden to her - after all, they'd been colleagues for ten years and friends for most of that time - it was just that she never thought of him that way. She rarely saw 'Patrick'. Most of the time that they were in the same room, even casually, it was in the context of the hospital. Even after she'd become friends with Marianne, Shelagh still referred to them both as Dr. and Mrs. Turner. They'd both correct her and then have a good laugh about it, but Shelagh was a creature of habit and so that was what she called them.
"So, when did he become Patrick?" she wondered to herself.
She supposed she had been spending more time with him. Not intentionally, of course, but Timothy had come to see her as a bit of a surrogate mother in the time since Marianne passed and she was a sucker for the youngest Turner. If spending time with him meant incidentally spending time with his father, that wasn't her fault, right?
Shaking her head away from the dangerous thought trail she was headed down, Shelagh finished washing up and glanced at the clock. Ironically, she was due for a break again and she sighed wistfully at the idea of sitting down. At this point, she'd resigned herself to her schedule until Chummy returned. She wasn't thrilled about it, but at the end of the day, nothing made her happier than nursing and she needed to remind herself of that every once in a while.
With renewed conviction, Shelagh set off for the break room, determined to grab her cup of tea before going to check in on Nurse Miller and her patient. Miraculously, she made it all the way there and the room was blissfully empty. Cradling her cup of tea, Shelagh was sure there was no more heavenly feeling in the entire world. The warmth eased her sore hands and the steam bathed her face and relaxed away the stresses of the day. Her pocket buzzed and she realized she hadn't checked her phone since she Trixie grabbed her.
She pulled it out to 47 unread messages from Dr. P. Turner.
"47!" Her heart seized. What if something was wrong with Timothy? What if something was wrong with him and he needed her to pick up Timothy and that's why he was gone so long and now Timothy was waiting outside his school cold and alone and hungry for hours?
Panicking and not reading the messages, she nearly screamed into her phone.
"Call Dr. P. Turner!" Her phone obediently dialed and she felt her anxiety rising with every ring. "Pick up, pick up, pick up." she muttered impatiently. She swore as she heard the familiar 'you've reached Pat-Doctor Turner, sorry, can't get to the phone just now'. Instinct had her running to his office. He was probably not there, but she needed to try and if nothing else, hunting him and Timothy down would distract her from thinking about why the Turners were starting to occupy most of her daily thoughts.
She rounded the corner to his office and sighed in relief at the light coming from the cracked-open door. Pushing the door open all the way, she felt relief turn into utter annoyance mixed with an infuriating sense of adoration.
Father and son were fast asleep on Patrick's horrible yellow office couch, both snoring to beat the band. The elder Turner's phone lay on the floor, close to Timothy's hand, which Shelagh suspected was the actual culprit behind the text barrage. Rolling her eyes, she crossed to the closet in search of the blankets she knew he kept in case he had to sleep at work. She laughed when she pulled out the stack. Five felt, superhero blankets looked back at her and she had a strong suspicion they weren't all Timothy's doing.
"You're seriously like a man-child, sometimes, Patrick Turner." she chided with a smile as she draped a spiderman blanket over both of them. A new, but becoming-familiar sensation tugged at her heart as Timothy's hand clutched at the fabric and Patrick turned and nuzzled sleepily into his son's head. She would wake them in an hour when Patrick's night shift started and then she would take Timothy home.
She would also ignore the fact that a week ago, she would've had no tolerance for Patrick not being on top of his own schedule when they were so short staffed and now, she was warmly covering him with a child's blanket.
She didn't have time to analyze those feelings or to see where they might lead. Besides, in what world would Patrick Turner ever be into her?
45 down, and just 5 to go! Hope you enjoy!