I am so late to this but I'm just gonna go out and say it - Ethan Choi and Crockett Marcel would be the perfect candidates for the enemies/rivals to lovers trope and I'm honestly surprised that there are so few works on the two of them.

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I am so late to this but I'm just gonna go out and say it - Ethan Choi and Crockett Marcel would be the perfect candidates for the enemies/rivals to lovers trope and I'm honestly surprised that there are so few works on the two of them.

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Homo behavior innit
day 5 - travel
It was Avaâs muttered oh fuck that caught Sarahâs attention and had her turning around to face the backseat. Whatever sheâd been expecting, the sight in front of her was not it.
Lightheaded
Prompt by anon: Maybe a sick fic prompt for charcel where Ethan hasnât been feeling well and nearly faints onto Crockett, and Crockett looks after him.
Rating: T (for occasional swearing)
Word Count: 852
A/N: I apologize for how late this fic is, but I still hope you enjoy it! Itâs also posted on Ao3 here.
Sloppy sex with charcel? Wreck our boi!
If someone told Ethan a month ago that he would be having the dirtiest, messiest, best sex of his life on the floor with Crockett Marcel, he wouldnât have believed it. Crockettâs arrogant, self-centered, annoying, and a liar, and Ethan never really considered himself to be into men anyways. Besides that, he had kissed April. And that doesnât account for how many times heâs argued with Ethan about patient care, flirted with him, or taken not-so-discreet sips from a flask on his lunch hour. Even if Ethan did already know he was attracted to men, he really wouldnât have thought that heâd ever have sex with Crockett in a million years.
But here they are.
Crockettâs struggling to stay up on his knees, drooling onto the hardwood and his torso wet with cum from the first orgasm of the night. Heâs a picture, really. As much as he likes to mouth off, itâs so easy to shut him up. Just put a cock in his mouth, and heâll not only give some great head, but he gets off on it too, covering himself with fluid just from his own lazy wrist and getting his throat fucked.
This whole thing is just messy. Besides the drool and cum, thereâs lube dripping down Crockettâs thighs from using a little too much, and as his hands skid on the smooth floor for purchase and he tries to stay still enough for Ethan to keep fucking him, there are tears on his cheeks to catch the light in the prettiest way.
The only word that comes to mind to describe the most obnoxious surgeon Ethan has ever met right now is slutty. Thereâs no other way to put it. He gets off on the roughness, moans like something out of an adult film, begs Ethan to do things that no one has ever asked him for in the past.
Ethan winds up with one arm under Crockett, holding him up with his forearm across his hips and trapping him in place, the other pressing down on the back of his neck to stop him from squirming. Thereâs power in this too, he thinks. Crockett might let him do anything.
On that exact note, Crockett makes this high pitched noise and the muscles in his abdomen go firm and tense. âFuck, please,â he breathes, sounding for all the world like heâs run a marathon. âEthan, Ethan, please-â
He doesnât know why he does it. Some dark impulse inside of him, borderline desperate to see exactly how much Crockett is willing to take right now, makes him. He works his jaw and spits on him, watching the thick saliva drip down his back, making itâs way to the little space between his shoulder blades.
Like itâs the push heâs been waiting for, Crockettâs body tightens up like a vice, and he makes the most broken sound as he comes on the floor. Itâs a pathetic little dribble now. Almost cute, in a word. But it doesnât matter because Ethan hasnât come yet, and when he fucks him a little harder through the way Crockett goes tight around him, his only response are more moans.

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Cause Pretty, thatâs all.
Impaled chest - ethan choi x crockett
He comes in drunk. The second he wanders into the waiting room, heâs whisked to a bed, and Ethan is the one who has to walk into Crockettâs hospital room and asses the damage.Â
The man is covered in cuts and bruises, glittering with glass in the cold hospital fluorescents. Half his face is black and blue beneath the red, one hand is swollen and bruised, but more than that is his chest. More specifically, the rebar through it. How Crockett managed to get out of his car at the accident (APD called when they found his car) and wander all the way to the hospital is an unanswerable question.Â
âHey, Crockett,â Ethan says carefully, pulling on a pair of gloves. The nurses work on getting an IV in his good arm while the ultrasound machine is pulled up. âHowâre you feeling? In any pain?â
âI feel... perfect!â Crockett slurs.Â
He squirms at the cold gel being spread on his skin until Ethan stills him with a hand on his shoulder and asks him to be very, very still. Slowly, Ethan moves the ultrasound around the rebar and looks at the damage. The bar missed Crockettâs heart and lungs, miraculously, but itâs broken his ribs and torn his chest wall. Blood is filling his chest cavity. They need to get this taken care of before they consider any other injuries.Â
âWeâre gonna take good care of you,â Ethan assures, before turning to April. âPage trauma and give him a sedative to keep him from moving too much before surgery.â
Itâs only once he steps back that Ethan registers Crockett was driving drunk, and it could have been so much worse.
Accident
It doesnât make sense.
Not to Ethan, anyways. Accidents happen, and this is no exception. It isnât like Crockett woke up this morning intending to just throw a plate on the floor to shatter it, or anything of the sort, and thereâs no way he intentionally bumped the lip of it with his arm to send it careening onto the hardwood. Heâs barefoot too, meaning he has to stay put while Ethan cleans. He stands there, silent, and stares at the broken glass as Ethan sweeps it up, seemingly just surprised, until Ethan stands up to empty the dustpan and sees the shiny tears rolling down his cheeks.
âCrockett?â
He reaches for him, but the moment his hand touches Crockettâs arm, Crockett stumbles back and raises his forearm in front of his face defensively, trying to protect himself from a nonexistent threat, crying out in fear as he loses his footing and winds up on the floor.Â
âPlease, no! Iâm sorry! Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to, baby, I didnât! Iâm sorry, I swear!â
Ethanâs a little lost. Heâs familiar with PTSD from his own experiences, but that says nothing of the reaction Crockettâs having to something else entirely. This is a different kind of trauma than the military. This is a kind of trauma that worms its way into someoneâs very bones, that makes Crockettâs eyes so wide with fear even staring up at Ethan and seeing him.Â
Heâs not so much buried in a memory of someone else, but applying a muscle memory to Ethan out of a fear of retaliation for something so clearly unintentional. Ethan desperately tries to placate him, assuring him heâs safe, but it seems to have no effect on Crockettâs panic.Â
âCrockett, seriously, please,â he says. âIâm not gonna hurt you, I promise. Just- just take a deep breath? Copy my breathing.â
Ethan exaggerates his breathing to try and get Crockett to follow it with little success. It only gets worse when Crockett starts trying to pick up the shards with his bare hands, littering them in cuts nearly instantly. Ethan cries out for him to stop and Crockettâs stricken eyes return to his. Heâs so afraid.Â
âBreathe in,â he coaxes gently. âItâs okay. Iâm here. Breathe out.â
He crouches, afraid to kneel because of the glass, and reaches out once more- slowly this time- to tilt Crockettâs face up away from the mess on the floor.Â
âItâs okay.â
If only Ethan knew how to fix this.