love is driving me a bit insane

“What’s the difference between God and a doctor?” you remembered one of your patients asking just as you were about to insert his IV. 

“What’s that?” you hummed, feeling him tense slightly under your touch as the needle poked his skin. 

The patient, seeming otherwise unfazed, turned his head to beam at you, a broad grin on his face.

“God doesn’t think he’s a doctor!” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but consider that the joke came to mind after an interaction with Dr. Trafalgar Law. 

You would be surprised if it had nothing to do with him at all, not after the odd pattern you had been noticing ever since a new name popped up on your schedule. It wouldn’t have been the first time that week that a patient made an offhand remark about the new cardiology doctor, something you assumed was a bid to confirm that his lack of bedside manner wasn’t just a figment of the imagination.

“The new EP is ice cold,” Penguin told you during one of the times he hid out in imaging. Imaging was always a good place to hide for a while. 

“Scary,” Shachi agreed. “I don’t envy whoever ends up on his team.”

“Guys, he’s been here for less than a week,” you dismissed, taking a sip of your morning beverage. “You know how baby doctors are, they’re always intense when they first start because they’ve gotta show off that textbook knowledge right out of residency. Whoever it is, I’m sure he’ll simmer down.”

“Not Dr. Trafalgar D. W. Law,” Shachi spoke ominously, “Ain’t that a name? You’re only saying that because you’ve never met him.”

”He’s intense.” Penguin nodded. 

As if on cue, brisk footsteps resounded from the hallway, not quite a stomp so much as heavy, deliberate steps on their way to put out a fire. And perhaps they wouldn’t have been so out of place if it hadn’t been for the relatively mellow schedule you had laid out for you that day. A bunch of post-ops: certainly nothing to charge through diagnostics for.

The door flew open, as if the very entrance to your wayward office wanted to be out of the way of the storm that entered. The man who came in was a new face, tanned with meticulously groomed facial hair. You couldn’t help but notice the dark tattoos that adorned his hands that stretched out from the sleeves of his stiff white coat. His badge hung neatly from the left breast pocket, but the distance made it difficult to read the name printed on it. 

And perhaps your description of him might’ve been more complimentary if it weren’t for his following words.

”Ah, so it’s a real party down here.” He frowned, not bothering to hide how he scrutinized the three of you. The doors flapped closed behind him, swaying in his wake from the force he used to push them open. “Is this how NBUMC runs its operation?”

North Blue University Medical Center. The North, for short. 

The doctor’s dark eyes narrowed, staring directly at you. 

“You’re the echo tech?” 

“Among other things,” you matched his deep frown. At this point, Penguin and Shachi quietly picked up their coffees and made a swift exit. “Who’s asking?”

“I need a repeat scan on one of Hiriluk’s old patients in room 211. Irregular rhythm, everything in the chart is useless. That's the theme I’m seeing from Hiriluk…” He didn’t even look at you, too buried in whatever was on the screen of the laptop he balanced in his arm. 

“Ah,” you sighed, visibly deflating, “You must be the new attending.” Speak of the devil. 

You turned toward your computer, clicking through a few things in the system. You frowned. So this was how things were going to be…

“This patient just had scans a few days ago.” 

“The images are inconsistent and don’t have measurements—”

“I can add measurements.”

—“I want a clearer look at the chamber dimensions. Valve morphology while you’re at it.” Law toggled a few things on his screen before meeting your eye again, a flicker of annoyance evident in his gaze. “The order is in now. I want this one expedited.”

Expedited. One of your least favorite words, along with “they’ll be with you shortly.” This was a hospital for fucks sake— it never was shortly. 

“Your patient is going to have to wait. I’ve got a morning filled with post-ops. I’m not going to make them wait just for a second opinion on a perfect scan that’s less than a week old.” Much like your time employed here, baby doc. 

“I have time,” he retorted, but rather than sauntering off to whatever hellhole he came out of, Dr. Trafalgar stayed exactly where he stood. 

You glanced at him incredulously. 

“You’re going to stay here,” you asked, sounding more accusatory than questioning, “While I go through my morning.”

“The patient who was supposed to be next on my schedule came early and got out quickly enough, so I can wait on this one. It’ll be faster.” Law didn’t sit. He didn’t even move out of the way. He only folded his laptop, tucking it under his arm as he stared straight ahead at you.

“Look, I know that you fresh-out-of-residency types think you know everything, but I think I can say with a certain degree of certainty that that’s not how time works,” you huffed.

“We’ll see,” Law said, offering you a single nod.  

A notification pinged on your computer, and you swiveled around to check your inbox. 

A grey box appeared next to your first patient’s name.

Canceled. Not Feeling Well/Sick.

You stared at the box, a sinking feeling beginning to set in. You didn’t even want to turn around. 

You breathed in a single, steady breath.

Motherfucker.

“Alright,” you sighed, your tone laced with spite. “Let’s do this.” 

You didn’t want to see his face as you went, and you certainly tried to ignore the way he peered over your shoulder as you performed your scan. 

You were good. You couldn’t have made it as far as you have without being exceptional at your job. The orientation of the probes made sense to you, and your hand was naturally light and precise. Plus, you were sure you had more bedside manner and charisma in your left pinkie finger than Law had in his entire body. 

His eyes were glued to your monitor, his very presence absolutely suffocating. You had done hundreds of these, a handful— to your dismay— with a white coat hovering over you. You could usually shake the looming presence, but today it was unignorable. 

You glanced at Law from the corner of your eye, watching how he scrutinized your monitor and not seeming to care how he encroached on your space. Seeing him made your fingers twitch, which showed up as acute noise on the scan. 

It was the slightest amount of artifact, but Law’s eyes immediately flicked to it. It made your insides boil, and you kept as steady as you could until you were finished. 

And at the end, he only offered you a single nod. 

“That’s better,” he hummed.

You were going to ring his neck. 

***

Whelp, Penguin and Shachi weren’t kidding. The guy was a dick. He was so much of a dick, you were no longer surprised when patients brought Law’s attitude up to you. A little rough around the edges or a rather intense young man were the polite ways of calling it the way everyone sees it. It was old person speak for what an uptight asshat. 

But to your continued surprise, despite offhand comments about his frigid exterior, you consistently heard nothing but praise about his professional prowess. There were even a few rumors that Law had already been invited to speak at the annual cardiology conference. 

You knew you weren’t lucky enough only to get one unfortunate interaction with Dr. Trafalgar. One pushy interaction, and you would have written it off as yet another green doctor throwing their weight around to try to establish some dominance. You’d seen his type before, and more often than not, you could wait them out and let the job put them in their place organically. 

But as you checked the work queue the next morning, you nearly spat out your coffee as you saw your patient list had more than doubled. 

STATUS NEW REQUEST. REF BY PROVIDER TRAFALGAR, LAW D. W. REF BY DEPARTMENT CARTIOLOGY ELECTROPHYSIOLOGY DIVISION.

STATUS NEW REQUEST. REF BY PROVIDER TRAFALGAR, LAW D. W. REF BY DEPARTMENT CARTIOLOGY ELECTROPHYSIOLOGY DIVISION.

STATUS NEW REQUEST. REF BY PROVIDER TRAFALGAR, LAW D. W. REF BY DEPARTMENT CARTIOLOGY ELECTROPHYSIOLOGY DIVISION.

STAT was bolded in red next to a vast majority of them, many of the names hauntingly familiar to you. 

Your heart sank as you began plucking names into the records server. Your breath nearly hitched as you noticed the date on the very first patient of your new influx. 

Three days ago… This patient just had imaging three days ago.

You gawked at the screen, nose twitching in disbelief. You typed in another name.

Images were completed a week ago. So on and so forth. 

Seldom did you ever have to venture out of your imaging cave to speak to a physician directly. Imaging and your wayward office were, after all, more out of the way than not. Your door didn’t even have a label, likely from a time when admin went nuts and decided that all the door signs needed to have the good ol’ NBUMC logo on them. Yours, inexplicably, didn’t get one. 

You preferred it that way. You got your orders, your set schedule, and you were left to your own devices in a quiet part of the hospital. Sometimes an occasional add-on would spice up your day and give you something to complain about, but if anyone needed to speak to you or if you needed to speak to anyone, you could use your standard secure chat. 

However, having half of your queue consisting of new urgent requests wasn’t going to work. And you weren’t about to repeat all those scans and allow all those patients to be charged for repeat testing just because some new doctor was going on an ego trip. 

Law was already hard at work in his pod, glued to something on his computer that had him too engrossed to notice the way you approached him with fury. And just when you thought something couldn’t pissed you off more, you got a glance of just what was keeping him so engrossed.

One of your fucking scans. 

“Dr. Trafalgar—”

“Mh? Oh, good timing.” He didn’t even bother turning around to face you. “I was just looking at some of your work.” 

You resisted the urge to scoff. 

“Funny,” you snarked, barely about to hold your mask of professionalism. “I was just coming to talk to you about that.” 

“It’s decent,” Law continued, almost as if he hadn’t heard you, “But it’ll all have to be redone.” 

It’ll all have to be redone.

It’ll all have to be redone. 

“Excuse me?” You nearly choked. Between the insanity of the statement and the bluntness with which he said it, you weren’t sure what threw you off more. 

“When Hiriluk retired, I got his patient load.” Law finally turned somewhat in his chair, ignoring you once again. He shook his head, his face contorting in condescending disbelief. “And a majority of them are diagnosed wrong.” He rolled his eyes. 

You paused.

“Wrong?” you repeated. 

“Catastrophically misdiagnosed,“ Law affirmed, “Dangerously so.”

“Dr. Hiriluk’s patients love him,” you spat. “Who are you to say he got it wrong?”

“Because I’m actually paying attention,” Law quickly retorted, and the snap of his words almost made your heart skip a beat. He turned back to the computer, hands folded over each other in front of his face as he leaned forward. “Can you imagine having to tell someone their heart is worse than their doctor— who they’ve seen for years, by the way— told them? Psh, he doesn’t even deserve to be called a doctor.”

No, you couldn’t imagine having the conversation at all. You couldn’t even imagine Law breaking the news. 

“I want to get through as many patients as I can, especially the cases that are urgent. We need to completely make over the treatment plans to actually start saving some lives.” Saving some lives. He threw that line around so casually. Yeah, he’ll be a hit around here. 

“My scans are perfectly good, no matter what Dr. Hiriluk might’ve gotten right or wrong, his diagnosis is separate from my data,” you pressed on. This wasn’t about a fight; it was about your work queue. “The volume you’re asking for is impossible. You’re not the only doctor here.”

It wasn’t just the time spent doing the scans, but also all the time before and after that that required your attention: the clerical work and the messaging. Your department was stretched thin as it was. After the umpteenth fiscal year of not being approved for additional positions and your peers being stretched across multiple clinic locations, you often found yourself working alone at Main. 

“They’re unusable,” Law frowned. No comments. No reasoning. No compromise. “And when you repeat them, they’ll be done my way.” 

It was an order, just like the ones he filled your queue with. He didn’t turn. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke. Law clicked around a few times.

“Then do them yourself.”

“I could.” Law leaned back in his chair, his finger flicking across the mouse to zoom out on the scan he had pulled up on his computer. His elbow rested on the arm of his seat as he gestured toward the screen. “But it wouldn’t be as good as this one from the 23rd.”

“You really are digging…”

“12:29 PM… You don’t even take a lunch, do you?” Law swiveled in his chair, triumphantly, and smugly sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “I like that.” 

“One early afternoon patient is not an excuse to pack my schedule, Doctor,” you spat. 

“You’ll have your hands full enough.” Law stood, adjusting the way his pristine white coat sat on his broad shoulders. “Because I want all of those repeats to look exactly like that one,” he said, and just as he brushed past you, he leaned toward your ear, “Or I’ll be sending them back.”  

You barely had the time to whirl around before he was halfway down the hall, clipboard in hand. You opened your mouth to call after him, but even your words weren’t fast enough.

“Before you go,” he called over his shoulder. “Whoever that Ussop tech is… I don’t want him anywhere near my cases.” You could see the smirk on his lips as he disappeared into an exam room. 

***

“Try to breathe as naturally as you can. I’ve got some jelly here that might feel a little cold.” You placed your probe, glancing toward your monitor as you stepped on your foot pedal to begin recording. 

Your hands were steady, your scan perfectly oriented, and your momentum smooth even as Law stood with his arms crossed in the corner of your peripheral. He slipped through the door quietly, and perhaps you wouldn’t have even noticed him if he hadn’t oriented himself right at the edge of your vision.

“Very good,” you hummed to the patient, “You’re doing great.” 

You kept your voice low, but friendly. A little praise went a long way in patient care, both in calming patient nerves and improving their attitude. It also gave you an excuse to break the silence as you worked. However, it appeared that you didn’t have to concern yourself with commentary.

“Your orientation is different today,” Law’s blunt voice broke through your carefully curated atmosphere. You could feel him walk up next to you, filling what little space existed in front of your monitor. 

“You have to orient yourself differently with different patients, Dr. Trafalgar.”

“You’re limiting your window.”

His presence over your shoulder made you feel like you were in training again. Law was easily as abrasive as any supervisor. 

Your grip unconsciously shifted as his voice appeared closer to your ear than you expected. Law didn’t notice you startle, only the acute change on the scan.

“Better,” he said. 

You had a lot you wanted to say. That was an understatement. But unlike Dr. Nitpick next to you, you knew when to hold your tongue when a patient was in the room. 

“If you’re going to be in the room critiquing my work, isn’t that just halfway to doing the scan yourself?” you complained the moment you were out of the patient’s earshot. 

Law crossed his arms. 

“I’m communicating what I want, and if you’re off, I’m telling you that you’re off.”

“If you don’t like the way I image, you have a slew of other technicians and clinic locations to choose from.” Your arm shot out in a wide gesture around you. 

Law let out an amused scoff as he dug his hands in his front pockets. That same, self-assured smirk from the day before was plastered on his lips. His chin almost had an upward tilt, like he wasn’t even hiding the way he looked down his nose at you. 

“On the contrary,” he started with an amused crinkle of his forehead, “You’re the only one who gets it right.” 

Gets it right. Pretentious ass—

“You’ve watched me scan, how many times now? Twice?” You scowled.

“I only need to see it done right once.” He shrugged, dipping his head. “You set quite the standard.”

You scoffed, “I’m the one setting the standards here, huh?” Your tongue dipped into the space between your cheek and your gums, almost as if you risked it lashing out at Law by itself if you didn’t keep your jaw tight. You shook your head. “Look, I don’t know who you’re trying to impress here, but I don’t have time to play pet tech.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to play,” Law retorted, appearing very clearly less bothered than you were. “I’m demanding because it’s my job. I want precision and reproducibility.” He met your eye, his continued self-satisfaction explicit. “And you give it to me.”

***

“We’re gonna dieeeeeeee…”

You looked down at your tired, disappointing lunch. It had apparently not been a lucky week for anyone.

“He’ll simmer down once the flow sets in,” you half-heartedly reassured. You were trying to tell yourself the very same thing, and perhaps you would have believed yourself if you hadn’t had so many run-ins with the heartless heart doctor himself. With his brand of brutality, you weren’t sure if he was the type who had the capacity to simmer. 

“You’re not the one who has to do his work-ups,” Shachi wilted. 

“Try working with him on his post-implants,” Penguin groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “The only one he doesn’t seem to glare at is Bepo.”

“That kid who’s like… fresh out of high school?” you asked.

“He’s the one who talks the least,” Shachi chimed, practically melting over the back of his chair. The answer made you bob your head in consideration. That checked out. “Maybe even Dr. Trafalgar is hesitant about ripping into someone with such a round baby face.”

“And speaking of the opposite, we heard talk that Jean Bart is going to come back as lab nurse,” Penguin said. 

“Aww… Jean Bart.” You smiled, thinking about the gentle giant. He briefly dabbled in imaging and had a surprisingly gentle hand. Plus, he never hesitated to take creepy patients before you could even say the word. “C’mon, Jean Bart is plenty cute.”

“I think his appeal is more the fact that he looks like he’s fresh out of prison,” Penguin considered with a downward dip of his lip, “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else kept their heads down when it came to the idea of being the new EP’s lab.”

“If he can’t deal with that frigid jerk, I don’t know who can…” You muttered. 

“Who are we calling a frigid jerk?” 

You despised the minuscule jump that came from the sudden presence over your shoulder. You turned your head to frown up at Law, who seemed to have teleported behind you sometime during the tail end of your conversation. He glanced down at you, his lips forming a tight line that just barely disguised an amused huff. 

It was like he had an obsession with appearing right over your shoulder. 

“Good,” he said loudly, “If you have time to gossip, you have time to tend to my patient in 204.” 

“I’m not on right now,” you deadpanned, barely resisting the urge to let a few choice words slip. “If you need someone, my co is—”

“Clock back in. I need this imaging to be clean.” Law’s eyes bounced briefly to the rest of your tiny lunch table. “Ah, and it appears that you’re already acquainted with some of my new team.” His eyes returned to yours, and the little restraint he put into not looking smug melted instantly. “All the better.” 

You glanced over at Penguin and Shachi, hoping that at least one of them would back you up here. But Penguin looked like he was trying to psychically connect with his half-finished coffee, and Shachi was on the verge of reinventing the sandwich. 

Cowards. 

“You’re assigning me cases now?”

“It’s urgent.”

Your forehead twitched, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“If I had a nickel for every time a white coat with an MD sprang a patient on me and told me it was urgent—”

“You’d be very rich, I’m sure, but you’re the only one who does them the way I want.” Law’s acute smirk seemed to vanish, morphing back into his default frown and intense eyebrows. The glare, you decided, was much preferred compared to the smugness.

And the little compliment at the end there— if you could even call it that— somehow made your mood worse. 

You sat back in your chair, fully intending to stand your ground with this one. 

“There’s a process to these things. You can’t just play favorites when I have a whole schedule of other doctors—”

“Like I told you before—” Law narrowed his eyes at you. Icy. —“I’m not playing.” He turned to walk out of the break room, calling over his shoulder just as he did that morning. “Room 204.”

You considered staying, going back to your lunch as if nothing happened. But the idea that he was about to leave a patient waiting somewhere in the building sparked your damned sense of duty. Because, unlike that jerk, you actually cared about people. 

You cursed, leaving your things on the table with Penguin and Shachi— you’d be sure to scold them later— to run out the door after Law. And to your complete and utter dismay, he was already waiting for you. Law had his hands tucked in the pockets of his coat as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. 

“Good of you to join me.” 

You walked straight past him, your mind already calculating what you need to arrange to get this done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Getting a chance to look at the chart would be a great start. 

“If you’re going to keep breaking protocol and interrupt my lunch, I expect food. Preferably warm,” you grumbled as Law followed behind you. You didn’t even have to turn to feel the triumphant air around you. “And expensive. I’m sure your baby doctor salary can afford that.” 

“Baby doctor?” Law scoffed.

You turned around suddenly, and the ever-disciplined Trafalgar Law stopped just perfectly so as not to crash into you. 

“Yes, baby doctor,” you emphasized. “Newby docs who ask for imaging up the ass because they don’t have the wisdom to use the standard information that every other experienced doctor can go off of. I’m sure you’ll ask me to diagnose a patient or two within the month… you always do.” 

Law’s eyes narrowed dangerously. All semblance of playfulness drained from him as the atmosphere seemed to become ten degrees colder. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning encroachingly into your space. 

“No one’s diagnosing my patients except me,” he gruffed. You actually rolled your eyes this time. 

“And we can only hope we can keep it that way,” you grumbled. You turned to continue down the hall. “Lunch is on you next time, doc!”

***

“Jesus, you look like shit.” 

“Gee, thanks, Nami.” 

You continued to lie with your head in your arms on your desk, eyes half lidded as you watched Nami’s slender hands place three different types of drinks on the surface in front of your face. Your head pounded. You were willing to bet it was a stress headache. Or maybe it was because you were getting shit sleep—or both. 

“One for hydration, one for caffeine, and one fun one,” she hummed triumphantly. Nami stood with her hands on her hips, her posture triumphant as she waited for you to praise her carefully curated selection. 

“Thanks, Nami,” you croaked, already reaching for the caffeine. 

She frowned, her pose already deflating.

“Damn, is the new EP really that bad?” she asked, leaning over where you sat to take your mouse to click through the programs you had open. “I’ve been hearing all about him all the way over at the satellite office.”

“I appreciate you coming here,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I would be able to handle today’s schedule without you. Especially the morning.” 

“I don’t think anyone would be able to.” Nami scrutinized the schedule, toggling between it and the work queue. “Not unless you became the echo machine itself and gained sentience.” 

“Already losing the sentience part,” you yawned, “You wouldn’t believe how late I was here last night.” 

Nami swatted you on the back of the head. 

“What are you doing staying here after hours?” she scolded. Probably a bad person to admit that to. Nami was the queen of work-life balance. A staunch advocate for it, in fact. “The docs have a cut off, they know that.”

“This one doesn’t…”

“Well, he should. Don’t take any more scans if it's getting too late. If you don’t hold your ground, then everyone is going to be sending us stuff at the ninth hour.”

“It’s fine,” you yawned again, finally sitting up to take a responsibly vertical sip of your beverage. “I knew if I didn’t do it then, I would have even more on my plate.”

“You already have a lot on your plate,” Nami said, finally having enough on the workload on your computer. “Can’t you throw your weight around a little?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ll keep trying, but I have a feeling I’m gonna have a bad time for a little bit.” 

Nami disappeared into the background as she prepared the equipment. You let her do her job as you continued to sip on your caffeine fix, because, unlike some people, you didn’t get a hard-on from micromanaging others. 

“Dr. Trafalgar apparently got a lot of Hiriluk’s population, so that’s been his new pet project.” 

Nami poked her head into the room, lips pursed. 

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, Dr. Hiriluk wasn’t the best,” you admitted, switching to the beverage that Nami had dubbed “for hydration,” as if all the other ones weren’t. 

“That’s one hell of a perfect storm,” Nami mused. “Newbies already get a little extra as it is.”

“You have no idea,” you sighed heavily. “And for some reason, that means that we’re repeating imaging on everyone and their mother.”

Nami shot around.

“What the fuck?” 

You couldn’t tell if her brows were raised in shock, anger, or both. You waved her off, resting your head back in your hand. 

“I’m working on it,” you sighed again, gaze turned toward the computer. “It’s why the work queue looks like…”

“A fire truck?”

You chortled. 

“I was thinking an ambulance, but with this massive fire that Dr. Trafalgar’s put on my plate, that might be more appropriate.” You watched lazily as Nami began to wheel the equipment across the office. “What are you up to?” You took another sip.

“Rest a little bit. I’m going to take these first few patients. You need it more than I do.”

On a typical day, you’d battle her, but today…

“Thanks, Nami, you’re the best. Just be careful?”

“I know how to handle guys like him. Don’t you worry about me.”

She wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway.

***

Even after a few minutes of relaxing, closing your eyes, and resting your face, your headache continued to pound. Today was going to be a very long day, wasn’t it?

You stood, making toward the door. One thing you didn’t hate about working in a hospital was that it was like its own little community, and when you needed something, more often than not, you could find it. Overpriced, perhaps, but you can still find it.

You floated through the hallway, probably quicker than you needed, but the speed was a force of habit. You considered it was something psychological about the sorry color of the walls. They were the worst shade of NBU gray, and with a lack of wall art, the color only served to make every inch of the building into a torturous maze. A maze that you, unfortunately, knew by heart. 

The pharmacy had over-the-counter painkillers. That just might be the key to getting through the day. 

“You’re not doing this. That’s not a request.”

“Imaging is so overworked that this is the first day in weeks that there’s been two of us here. I offered to come here and help carry the load today because of the influx of patients you’ve decided to send. I’m perfectly qualified.”

“I don’t care about your qualifications. It’s about being precise. I don’t need you to fight your way into that room just for me to send it back to be done the right way.”

“I don’t know how your interactions have been with other people here, but I’m not about to put up with your attitude, especially if it's interfering with patient care.”

“You’re the only one interfering with patient care here. I want my tech on my cases. End of discussion.”

“Your tech?”

That was about the point where you turned the corner, and the scenario was just about what you anticipated. A part of you was hoping that the pair fighting weren’t Law and Nami, but you knew you couldn’t have been that lucky. 

Nami had a hand on the handle of her cart, knuckles practically turning white. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Dr. Hiriluk retired and made you king,” she snapped. “You’re not even a year in and you’re already out here claiming people like you own this place.”

Nami stepped closer, ever fiery, but Law didn’t move an inch. 

“Imaging is here to help. Not be owned and treated like personal echo machines. And if you actually gave a shit about actual people like you pretend to about patients, you’d be backing off and not staking claims and cherry picking favorites like you own the schedule,” Nami spat. “You’d think a doctor would be able to tell when someone’s exhausted, especially when it’s your own workload.”

Nami’s gaze accidentally wandered as she turned her head, having to do a double take as she spotted you from around Law’s shoulder. Law’s head swiveled as he followed her shocked gaze, before he fully turned to see you standing in the middle of the hall. You held your drink in your hand, waving tiredly with the other as if you hadn’t been standing witness to a good majority of their exchange. 

Nami’s shock wore off first. Her fury didn’t give way easily to distraction. 

“Did you know you were spoken for?” Her eyes narrowed at Law. “Did he even buy you dinner first?” she snarked.

“Didn’t even buy me lunch,” you sighed, approaching the two to take the cart. 

Law didn’t even spare so much as a glance toward Nami’s pointed stare, keeping his eyes intently on you. Nami turned to you.

“You can’t be okay with this.”

“It’s fine.” You surrendered your cup to Nami before turning your attention to Law. 

“Which room?”

“Four.”

You took the cart and went. 

When Law entered the room, you had already dimmed the lights.

“Mood lighting?” he commented sarcastically. 

“Headache,” you said softly, half distracted by your scan, half asleep. “I was actually on my way to the pharmacy just now…” 

Law said nothing, choosing to watch on as he typically did. But this time, his attention wasn’t predominantly occupied by the scan. 

You did look tired, like Nami said. Your typical bedside manner, while better than he could muster then exhausted, was evidently lacking first thing that morning. You were going quicker than usual, not rushing, but powering through efficiency. 

“You missed those angles,” Law commented, his note filling the room—a beat when by without retort.

“They’re stacked. Don’t worry, Doctor, you’re getting everything you need.”

You weren’t lying. Despite your clear state, your frames were pristine as usual. Perfect. 

When you finished with your scans, you were surprised to turn and find that Law was no longer in the room with you. You gave his absence a half second of thought, that he made such a fuss about this scan, only to decide he wasn’t going to be picky. You didn’t know what was worse: the demand without the follow-through or the demand with the follow-through. 

You stepped the short distance down the hall to Law’s pod to tell him you were finished, but he rounded the turn. You nearly crashed into him, but ever-perfect Law stood utterly still, seemingly unfazed. 

“Take this,” he said, holding out both hands to you. 

In one hand was a cup from the breakroom. Water. With ice in it. He held two little white pills in his other palm. Law inverted his hand, clutching the pills with his tattooed fingers as he motioned to give them to you. 

“Poisoning me now?” you muttered. “Have I been upgraded to guinea pig?” You let out a huff of a laugh. It wasn’t a very funny joke. 

“Painkillers for your headache,” Law said. 

Your eyes shot up to his, your gaze somewhere between surprised and skeptical. But Law said nothing, motioning for you to take the cup and pills for a second time, and you finally got with the program and accepted. 

Law watched you with an uncomfortably intense stare as you popped the pills in your mouth, almost as if he was trying to make sure you actually took them. 

“Are these prescription?” you asked, the thought dawning on you after you’d taken them. 

“No,” Law answered. 

“I would have thought you’d feel powerful signing off on something.”

“If I were signing off on something, you’d know,” he said. “There’s plenty of time left in the day for that.” 

“Right…” you trailed, remembering the heavy schedule you had set for the day. “Well… thank you for this…” 

“Just look out for some changes for today. I’m going to rearrange things to try out a few workflow strategies. Take a little heat off imaging.” Law seemed to refuse to meet your eye. 

“I should have Nami yell at you more often.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Law retorted without a pause, his stare coming back to you. Unyielding. “If you’re taking on all my cases from now on, I need to make sure my patients aren’t waiting an obscene amount of time for imaging. I refuse to get backed up just because you think you can’t handle what I give you.” 

“Wait, you were serious about that?”

Law stared at you as if you had just asked where the heart was.

“We’ve established this.”

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, “You can’t give me every imaging patient on your schedule and just expect me to take it.”

Law scoffed, his typical smugness returning. 

“You’ll take what I give you.”

“Not all of your patients from now to—”

Law stepped closer, and his proximity shut you up quickly as he leaned his forearm on the wall next to your head. Your words died on your lips as he leaned close, your equipment just behind you and trapping you in. You could smell the faintest hint of cologne, and the smirk on his lips spiked your pulse in a way that made your breath hitch. 

“But you just did,” he whispered, tapping the rim of the water cup still in your hand. 

And just like that, he stood straight, walking around where you stood frozen in the hallway to bark orders like nothing happened. 

“Keep hydrated, I don’t need your hand shaking for the rest of my scans today.”

God, you hated when he did that.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I try to not use reader pronouns in my works, but I'll be candid that this insert is likely going to be AFAB fem because there are some themes that I want to tackle that are specific to that demographic. I hope you enjoy the ride

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