lionhearted girl

Quentin’s eyes fluttered open slightly as he heard his door unlocking and someone coming in without him needing to get up. So that was either a good or bad thing. Good thing because he didn’t have to get up because his head was pounding, but bad thing because he didn’t remember asking anyone to come over. When he heard Sam’s voice he chuckled to himself. He had just replied to her text this morning. It had been some idle chit-chat about a new movie they wanted to go see. He groaned and rolled over into his pillow. His mother had texted Sam? Wasn’t that kind of weird for a 30 year old man to need his mom to text his own girlfriend about his cold? And that’s just it–it was just a COLD. 

He felt the bed sink in as Sam sat next to him and peaked up for a second before trying to cover his head with another pillow. “It’s okay, just let me suffocate myself at the thought that my mom texted you about my cold.” he laughed to himself, only to sputter and end up coughing. The nurse cleared his throat and sat up to look at Sam, and then at what she had brought over using her “emergency only key”. 

“You know, I don’t want you to get whatever I got.” he sighed trying to clear his throat once again so it didn’t sound so horse. “I probably just got something while at the hospital. You know how that is…. But, since you’re here, I guess I could use the company.” he smiled, even though he probably looked awful. I mean, no one looks attractive while they’re sick. 

“So, did my mom say I was a useless 30 year old nurse who can’t get over a simple cold, or did she phrase it more nice for you?”

Hearing the cough and the slight hoarseness to his voice concerned her immediately, prompting her to backtrack her way into the kitchen to grab the cough drops and a bottle of water just in case.  “Oh, so that’s why you didn’t tell me you weren’t feeling well when we were talking this morning? Because you didn’t want to get me sick?” She said accusingly, shoving the cough drops in his lap once she made her way back into the bedroom, her face lighting up at the sight of him. She was tempted to go say hi to Snowball so the cat didn’t feel left out, but was momentarily distracted by Quentin’s next words, a laugh escaping her lips as he literally quoted his mother word for word.

“No, that’s exactly how she said it. I really fucking love her. Like, if she was younger, and I wasn’t dating you, I would totally be dating your mom instead. No offense. I just like, really appreciate her. Also there’s the fact that she had to deal with raising you which like, couldn’t have been easy. So like, major props to her.” She settled in bed next to him, kicking her shoes off on the floor and curling up next to him. “Seriously, you are the most dramatic person I have ever met even when you aren’t sick. Your mom was right to call you useless.” And he was lucky she loved him, so apparently it didn’t matter if he was sick or not because she was obviously willing to go through whatever torture of being by his side during this.

The thing was, though, Sam wasn’t the nurse. He was the fucking nurse. So like, this was really unfortunate. “I don’t get why you can’t take care of yourself, though. It’s not that fucking hard, and you take care of other people all the time.” She grumbled, turning to face him as she uncapped the water bottle. “Do you need me to get you anything? Or are you good for now?”

When Quentin hit send he wasn’t sure if he felt relief that he had actually managed to send it or anxiety because now it would be headed straight to her phone. Of course, that was under the assumption Sam hadn’t blocked him or changed her phone number. He panicked and quickly sent the most recent picture on his phone of Snowball. It was some dumb but adorable picture of her playing with some cat toy he had bought her a few days ago. He sighed as he gently set his phone on the coffee table and waited to see if it would light up with a message from her or not. It felt like it was forever until her name popped up. He just stared at the witty text about needing a ride before looking around his apartment panicked. Would they come here? It was absolutely not clean, there were cat toys everywhere because he didn’t want his cat to be bored while he was at work, and worst of all he was still in his scrubs from work. Springing up from the couch, he rushed to his room, changed into something that looked and smelled clean, violently threw his less clean clothes into his closet and ran for the door. 

As he pulled up in his car, he was just full of anxiety and regret that he hadn’t fucking cleaned ANYTHING (including his car) and there Sam was waiting. Maybe she wouldn’t notice the pair of scrubs in his back seat along with wrappers here and there or the random medical supplies he apparently was just too lazy to put somewhere else. But hey, you never know when someone will need help, so that was his half-assed justification. When she climbed into his car, he felt a breath of cold air rush in followed by the familiar smell of her shampoo. “Oh, I don’t keep my promises?” He retorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, I promise you it’s not a date then. I mean, I didn’t clean my apartment or own any food that isn’t similar to a 3rd grader’s lunch so joke’s on you.” Quentin definitely wasn’t selling himself, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Sam had actually responded and was here with him as they playfully bantered back and forth. 

“So you’re back at Brielle? That’s a surprise. If I remember right, that place was a shithole after Holmes left and I can’t imagine it got any better after I left. I mean, there were hardly any nurses, let alone a head nurse.” Even though he called it a shithole, he knew there was some weird soft spot he had for the institution. Something that always managed to draw him back. He had left Serenity before but somehow ended back there as a nurse. “Hopefully the kids are doing okay at least, you included.” he braced himself in the very likely chance Sam would hit him. He knew she hated hit, but couldn’t help but tease her. 

Of all the things he could have sent her, he chose to go with a photo of that stupid cat. Of course, Sam had missed Snowball. So much. And while Sam had contemplated blocking Quentin’s number many times, she had never actually been able to follow through with it because at the end of the day there was no reason for it. She might’ve been upset with everything that had gone down between the two of them, but she never blamed him because he wasn’t perfect and neither was she. Hell, she had fucked him over too. She was messy and rough around the edges, and that was why they had always been drawn to each other, right? They had the best banter, and they never seemed to get tired of each other despite their flaws. Even still, it broke her heart that things never worked out. And yet here they were, once again, giving things another chance. Or at the very least, taking another shot at a friendship.

Staring at him with a raised brow, Sam could feel her blood boiling. Alright, so she was going to kill him. He had a literal death wish. Great. That was just fan-fucking-tastic. “I’m going to kill you.” She whispered in the sweetest, fakest tone possible. “The kids are doing great, and I’m doing fine, thank you very much. I still see you haven’t learned how to clean up after yourself though, which is a damn shame.” She scrunched up her nose, motioning to scrubs in the back seat and making a face before looking back at him. “Are those scrubs? Seriously? When are you even going to need them?” But it was honestly so typical of him, and she couldn’t expect anything less. Despite the smirk, the knowing look on her face, there was still this fond look in her eyes that was reserved for only him. 

But the question about Brielle brought a soft smile to her face. “Yeah, I really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. And hey--it wasn’t like I left before you did. You were the asshole who bailed on us, remember?” She still thought about those days vividly, and often wondered if they were ever going to actually talk about what had happened to Abby or if they were going to continue on with pretending like nothing had ever happened. “It got better, though... for a hospital, you know. The new guy’s a pain in the ass, too, but it’s less shady. The staff are actually doing their job.” She shrugged, wrinkling her nose at the messiness of the car once more before turning to face Quentin with a smile. “So where to now, Superman? Where did you have in mind for lunch?”

“Quentin?” Sam called out, shouldering her way through the door to his apartment as she unlocked it using the spare key she’d had made for emergencies. Sure, this might not be a literal emergency, but it was close enough. “Your mother told me you were sick, I thought I’d stop by.” God, was this overstepping it? Probably. But he was just as stubborn as she was, and she knew deep down that this was the right choice. She’d stopped by the pharmacy on the way over, stocked up on tissues and cold medicine and bought some soup from the grocery store, along with a few more necessities, before letting herself into the apartment. 

Setting the bags in the kitchen, she grabbed the Theraflu and a box of tissues before immediately going to find him, her eyes softening as soon as she did. “Hey, Superman. How’re you feeling?” Sam lowered herself next to him carefully, placing the box of tissues next to him and setting the medicine on the table. She gazed down at him fondly, running her fingers through his hair with one hand as she rubbed his shoulder gently with the other, concern swimming in her eyes.

@nursesykes