oh my gOD STOP I LOVE THIS CONCEPT???? like. especially when he like meets you after losing a match and gaining some injuries? omg please he’d be so pissed. like at first he’d absolutely refuse to go to the doctor, would fight his friends on it, but he’s bruised and bleeding and none of them really know how to suture the kinds of cuts he has so he ends up in the emergency room. and you walk over, draw back his curtain and he’s about to snap at you to fuck right off because he doesn’t need this, but then the words die on his tongue when he sees you, hair pulled back in a messy pony tail and looking utterly adorable in your scrubs. you greet him, finding his name on the chart as you walk over to his side and prepare to clean him up and suture his cuts. he’s quiet, his dark eyes watching you, and you’ve never been one to get unnerved by a patient but under his gaze, you feel like he’s looking right through you. you ask him how he got those cuts as you begin stitching him up, and he’s silent and for a second you think he’s gonna just ignore you but then he says “lost a fight” in a quiet, disgruntled tone and you may not know him but you can pick up the utter disappointment and anger in his tone. your eyes are on your work as you casually ask “was it one you picked?” and he’s taking in your face; even though you’re not looking at him, he can see the lack of judgement and the complete focus you have on your task, and he answers lowly, vaguely “something like that”. he’s watching you best he can as you sit next to him, stitching the cut on his cheekbone, and over the strong scent of disinfectant Calum could faintly smell your perfume or body wash or whatever it was. it was fruity and he found himself taking a breath just for the purpose of smelling it more. and as you stitched him up, you asked, “anyone ever tell you violence is never the answer?” and despite his shit mood at the loss he faced tonight, Calum held back the short, dry laugh that threatened to escape “i wouldn’t be here if i listened to that”. you scoffed as you finished your work, leaning back slightly as you raised an eyebrow and asked with a small almost incredulous laugh, “would that be such a bad thing?” and he’d take a look at you in your scrubs with your ID tag hanging from the pocket of your pants, looking prettier than anyone else under the harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room, and feel the heat of his pissed off attitude melt away enough to respond smoothly, “yes. how else would i meet you?” and his boldness would take you off guard and even though he wasn’t the first patient to flirt with you, he was definitely the cutest even with his cuts and bruises jdfncjhsdf
