#crushfic

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CW: mass casualty shooting (Pittfest), death, young person/teenager dying, medical terms, injuries/blood, breakdow/meltdown, overly sweet fluff, language

Word Count: 1,876

Part Two of the Pittfest mass casualty shooting. You must deal with the collective chaos between zones and the fallout of losing another, special patient. It may all be too much (with some fluff at the end. Not all doom and gloom like the last chapter).

"Okay, I hovered so I could bring you a report," you said, returning to Jake. He looked up to you hopefully. "Robby and Dana just gave her a third unit of blood. The standard is two, so they're really trying, ok? They lost a pulse on her for a bit, which was why Robby was doing chest compressions the last time you wandered over there. But as I was leaving, they got a pulse back on her. I still need you to stay right here, though, okay?" He nodded.

Your hopes were dashed by the time you got back to The Red Zone, on your way to the intake bay, though. You approached as Robby called it and Sophie stopped compressions on Leah. "Fuck," you whispered and blinked back a few tears.

"We stopped at 19:47," Dana said, then turned to Robby, "Move her to Pedes? You want me to go with you to talk to Jake?"

"No, no, thanks, I got it." Robby couldn't proceed, as there was a new commotion, involving the police.

"Y/N, can you take her back to Pedes and help Lupe and Kiara get her in the system?"

"I...I don't know if I can move her right now. I mean, Jake's in a bed in the hall. He's gonna know, even if we cover her up. Christ, these poor kids!" You exhaled shakily.

"Here, help me clean up first. It'll buy us some time," Dana offered and you nodded.

You helped her find a route away from where Jake was stationed. "I'll-- I'll take her in," you told her, when you reached the doors. Dana allowed you to carry on alone and headed back as fast as she could to Red.

"I'm so sorry, Leah," you whispered as you parked her against the wall, "you deserved better than this. You all deserved better than this," you looked around the room and choked back emotion, leaving promptly before it could spill out. Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough back to the bay...anything to forget.

-------------------------

"It feels like it's slowing down out here," Shen said calmly, "why don't you go in? They probably can use more hands in there than we can."

"Sure, yeah," you nodded dutifully, but really didn't want to. You got pulled into a Pink case right away in order to help bag them. You heard that everyone in Yellow was stable, and you knew triage was trickling at best, so it seemed like things were mercifully coming to an end. You hoped you didn't have to wheel anybody else back to Pedes. When your patient was stabilized and moved off to the ICU, you noticed a congregation by the Charge Desk.

Gloria announced that, "SWAT found the shooter. Self-inflicted gunshot to the head. He had a duffel bag full of ammo. He was in some bushes down by the river with his AR-15," and after a couple of questions were thrown out, "SWAT cleared the festival grounds. Probably no more coming our way. What you've done down here… all the lives you've saved… there aren't adequate words. Thank you." Even she was emotional, and if Robby was to be believed, she didn't even have emotions. That made everything feel even more real, somehow.

As everyone dispersed, you turned to Dana, "Hey Boss Lady, I'll be back in a minute? Then I'll help you with anything you need tracked down or entered, okay?"

"Sure, why not?" She shrugged, looking around the department. You were pretty sure you sensed sarcasm, but pretended not to notice. You were going to take her at her word because you had to get out, and now.

You started at a normal, but determined pace, trying to show that you couldn't be derailed, as if you had important nurse duties that you were on your way to. You picked up the pace and made made a hasty exit out of one of the back doors to a stairwell. You hunkered down underneath it not a moment too soon; everything hit you at once and you burst into tears. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to quiet the impending sobs, those sobs that burned your chest with their yearning to be free. You heard the stairwell door click softly and tried your best to become invisible and silent. You couldn't let anyone know you were here, having a breakdown.

"Whoa, hey," Whitaker's gentle voice reached you under the stairs as he crouched down to join you. "I thought I saw you come out here, and--" he stopped, realizing how truly bad the state you were in was. He sat beside you, wrapping his arms around his legs and supporting them by cuffing one of his wrists.

The tears cascaded down your face faster than you could wipe them away, even with with your whole palms sliding down your cheeks. "I--I can't..." you took in a shuddering gasp to be able to continue, "I'm sorry."

He scoffed. "For what? For being human?"

"Everyone else in there had to deal with the same shit," you shook your head at his attempt to make you feel better.

"Not everyone had to wheel half the bodies to the morgue," he said, sternly, almost resolute. "What? You thought I didn't see you wheeling someone back again and again, with a sheet over them? That would get to anyone."

"It's not just that. It's all of it. How someone could do this. How many lives it's affected. And not just the ones who died. And--and Robby's stepson. God, I told him his girlfriend's chances were looking up and not two minutes later, she died."

"Fuck," he leaned his head back against the step you were under.

"I couldn't tell him. Hell, I've been avoiding him since. Like a coward. But I'm the one that gave him false hope." The sobs started anew. "And they're both so young. Teenagers. How many fucking dead kids have we had today?"

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say. The last pep talk I gave, I said, 'We're fucked without you, get back in there.'"

You chuckled a bit through the tears, "Don't worry, you're doing much better this time."

He smiled back at that. You both sat in silence for a beat while he garnered the courage to ask, "Do you need a hug?"

"You want tear stains on your, what, fifth pair of scrubs today?"

"It doesn't matter, it's fine. Probably won't even show up on the black." He gestured to the current scrubs with another smile.

"If you're sure, then yeah. As long as I'm not putting you out or anything."

"Listen, you were there for me this morning when I needed it, so I'm here for you now when you need it."

Tears welled up in your eyes for a different reason now, and you dropped your head against his shoulder so he couldn't see. He wrapped his arms around you, in a warm and supportive embrace. It felt weird to even think it, but it felt like home.

"Ready to go back in?" He asked when he finally let you go.

"Yeah. Let's start round seventeen or whatever," you huffed out a little laugh, feeling so much lighter. You both scooted out from under the stairwell and started walking back to the hospital doors before you stalled. "Shit, I'm sure I look like a mess, though."

"No, no!" He rushed out, "you look..." he paused, really looking at you and felt his heart squeeze. He could feel the blush coming on; he had the worst poker face. He pushed down any of the true words he instinctively wanted to say, and just said, "fine. Not suspicious at all. Except you've got a little black...?"

"Mascara?" You offered.

"Probably. I don't really know. Three brothers, remember?"

"Right, right." You smiled and wiped just under your eyes and noted a few black flakes on one of your fingers. "Good?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Uh, yeah. You just-- you have one spot," he watched as you missed it with another swipe and sighed softly in defeat. You were in the trenches together, so what the hell? He reached up and stroked your cheekbone with his thumb, getting rid of the offending spot and making your heart race. "There." His gaze met yours before he hurriedly looked away.

"Thanks," you said in a hushed tone, breath having been stolen by his action.

You started walking towards the doors again, in a somewhat awkward silence, trying to pretend that nothing happened. "Oh, God. I need to tell you. Myrna's well...escaped. So, um. Maybe keep an eye out?"

"Fuck," he said, but then you shared a laugh.

-----------------------

"Hey, Dr. King, I heard you crushed it. Way to step up," you told her.

"Oh, uh, thank you!" She gave you a tight smile like she was weighing how outwardly happy she should look.

"Everything you did, and on your first day here? It's really impressive. You're gonna do great. Really happy to have you on board."

She was quiet for a moment, "I, um. Actually really appreciate it. Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. And thank you for everything." You spotted Whitaker with a bag over his shoulder and figured he was on his way out. Suddenly, your attention was elsewhere and you had to wrap it up with Mel. "We'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah! Yes. Yes." She said, reeling it in. You gave her a thumbs up and took off.

"Hey, were meeting in the park if you wanna join," Princess said as you hopped past.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a bit. Save me one!"

"Hey, Whitaker!" You pulled up next to him before he could leave. "Can I see your phone?"

"Uh, yeah," he started digging it out of his pocket. He handed it to you unlocked, in case you needed to make a call or check the time, but he couldn't really fathom why. "But, what do you n---" he started, but you interrupted, dialing quickly.

"If you need me, for anything, here's my number." You handed it back to him and he looked at it as though it were some unbelievable ancient artifact. He hit the dial icon instead of asking for your phone. Your phone buzzed, and you of course declined the call, but started putting his name in right away.

"Just in case you need me. I've got your back and you've got mine, right?" He asked and you looked up.

"Right. Oh, I almost forgot! I also have something for you." You reached into your pen pocket on your scrubs top and handed him the circular paper there.

"A sticker?" He looked at you incredulously, raising his eyebrows before he took it.

"Yeah, look at it. It says 'I was brave!'" You smirked.

"Oh, yeah. I---I see that. And it has a little elephant on it, even." He was caught in-between sarcasm and smiling.

"Hey, you just finished your first day at The Pitt. You deserve it." You grinned at him as you stepped into the exiting doorway. "See you tomorrow, Whit."

"Yeah," he said, looking down at the sticker, smiling, as the door shut behind you. "See you tomorrow."

mdni plz dm if u have a problem

I never forgot you, anon! I know it has been a long time but I wanted to craft something I felt was worthy.

“I burn, I pine, I perish”

-Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew

Those little brushes to the forearm, those small smiles, those hints of something left unsaid behind your eyes. Fred cherished each and every one of these instances. Fleeting moments that gave him hope that you could see him in the way that he saw you: ethereal, breathtaking, and as so much more than a friend. But he had difficulty believing he'd ever be that lucky. He had hope, sure, but he wasn't betting on it. 

Conversely, Fred made you nervous. While you felt the crushing weight of desire to be more than friends with him, you couldn't actually fathom it. Any time you seriously thought about the implications of realizing your romantic feelings towards Fred, your heart hammered in your chest in a way that was likely not healthy. But keeping his company was an addiction you couldn't deny, so you sought to spend time with him any way you could, even assigning the most banal (or even hated) tasks to be spent with him. At least it gave you some glimmer of joy. 

Fred, of course, felt at ease when you asked him to help you cram for your math test. "C'mon Freddie, I'll fail without you!" you whined. 

Internally, he was shoving down a smirk at the thought that you needed him, that you were begging for his help, his time, his attention. Outwardly, however, he rolled his eyes, "What are you, five? You don't have to whine. And I'm sure you can do it without me." 

You shook your head vigorously in response. "You and I both know I don't know what the hell is going on in that class. And I need someone to quiz me and make sure my answers are right. I can't trust my own answers."

"I'll think about it," he replied, even though he knew he'd say yes. He was just stringing it out to tease you. 

"I'll feed you!" You burst out and he started laughing, "C'mon. My house, free snacks. Plus, my company." You grinned deviously, joking that that was your selling point. However, for Fred, it was all that actually mattered and he was sold long ago, before you'd really even asked him.

"Okay, okay, fine. You've convinced me." He pretended to let you win, as if he wasn't already wrapped around your finger. 

Studying together. That's something that normal friends do, right? Even if it was at night…all alone in your house together. Right?

The nerves were getting to you despite this fact. Fred had been to your house plenty of times and while you outwardly tried to 'play it cool,' you actually spent hours planning, cleaning, and preparing any time he came over. Everything was just-so but also perfectly curated to look nonchalant. You tried your best not to let him know that your palms were sweaty or your heart was racing any time you thought of him. 

You welcomed him into your home, snacks already set, and thanked him profusely for his time (you tried to hide your feelings, but you weren't really any good at it). "You really don't have to keep thanking me," he mused, "I'm already here. Not going anywhere." 

"Right, yeah," you felt an embarrassed blush hit your cheeks but shoved it down as quickly as possible. 

He put you at ease by focusing on the task at hand and forcing you to study; mercifully, he didn't bring up your heightened state. Eventually, you fell into a rhythm and talked both about the math at hand, but also about the broader aspects of life. Soon, you were more focused on that part of it and became distracted from the math goals you had laid out. Joking with Fred and relaxing more, pushing him playfully and enjoying his smiling response. It became late rather quickly and you noticed your eyes tiring to the point that you had to put forth effort to keep them open. Fred finally steering you back to boring studies didn't help, either. 

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers in front of your face, welcoming you back from a drowsy haze. "You can't fall asleep! We're only like, halfway through this chapter!"

"I am not falling asleep… I'm just resting my eyes," you said and he gave you a deadpan stare at your cliched excuse. "No, really! They're burning from reading so much."

"Uh-huh," he replied in a tone that indicated disbelief, "I can't believe you're quitting on me already."

"I'm not. Jeez!" You stood up and stretched, then plopped back down next to him. "There. All jazzed up now. Continue," you prompted, tapping the book in front of him. 

Your magic wake up 'cure' lasted all of three minutes. You could feel your thoughts becoming disjointed and you were missing words from Fred's sentences as he spoke. Your responses started to become muted "uh-huh"s and agreeing, grumbling moans. Before long, you'd completely nodded off, head drooping down onto Fred's shoulder. 

Luckily for Fred, you were totally zonked, because he sat up rigidly, panicking at your closeness. "Y/N?" He asked in a normal tone, before changing to a hissing whisper to repeat it. When you didn't stir, his thoughts immediately reeled; what was he to do? Part of him wanted to nudge you awake. Surely this was a mistake on your part and you'd loathe him when you woke, wondering why he didn't rouse you sooner. You'd probably both be embarrassed and then you'd have to take a huge step back in your relationship and everything would be awkward. And you wanted to pass this test, and he had vowed to help you. He couldn't just let you sleep through it, right? 

Masterlist

Part Two

Word Count: 1.2 K

Synopsis: I want to expand my "Would Include" into a series, I think. So here is how reader meets Fred: both of them struggling in Geometry and getting along. 

CW:  math and group-work anxiety; smack-talk about math

To say math wasn't your strong-suit would be a gross understatement. The only thing worse than sitting in Geometry class lamenting your inability to comprehend any of the material, was to be assigned to work in groups. This could go one of two ways. Either you were paired with people who wouldn't pull their own weight, or you were put with someone who knew what they were doing and that always seemed to be way worse. You didn't want to take on the role of slacker and be the one not contributing, but you also felt like you were flailing and drowning when your classmates so confidently worked on the problems. You could always feel the judgment burning in their eyes. So, when your teacher announced that this is exactly what you'd be doing today, and that he would be assigning the groups, you had to restrain yourself from collapsing on your desk in defeat. 

You were partnered with Fred Benson. Great, you thought, regarding the decision sarcastically. He was known for being a brain. And one full of snide remarks, at that. Not that you'd ever actually talked to him, but apparently that would change now. To your surprise and delight, though, he seemed about as lost as you. "This is ridiculous. This makes utterly, entirely no sense. If a circle is 360° why is this not adding up to that?!" He hissed in frustration and you smiled softly to yourself. Finally, someone to share in your misery. But at least he was actually trying. That's more than you could say for previous partners. 

"Oh my God, I know." You joined in,”'like, math wasn't so bad when it was just addition, subtraction, division, ya know? And then they started adding defined equations and angles and---and letters!" You sputtered out in disgust.

"Don't get me started on the addition of letters," he groaned. "I thought I'd be safe with that, because I'm good with writing, you know? But I barely made it out of algebra alive." That made sense to you: how he got his reputation as a brain, if he was good at writing. That didn't mean he had to be good at everything. While you struggled with math classes, you still wouldn't consider yourself stupid. In fact, you were really good at science and always excelled on your projects there.

"Oh, yeah. You're on the school paper, right?" You tried making small talk, trying to push through on this together.

"Yeah…" he trailed off and looked bewildered, blue eyes becoming ludicrously large behind his glasses, "I am. I didn't think you knew that, though." You shrugged noncommittally. While you didn't know Fred personally, you were still aware of his existence and paid attention enough to remember a thing or two about him. He stared at you for a moment longer than was comfortable for you, so you turned back to your paper and tried to suss it out on your own. You couldn’t decipher the look he gave you and you assumed you'd put him on the spot or made him feel awkward…or like you were stalking him. Any which way, you were in trouble. 

"I don't think this is right," you muttered to yourself and hastily began erasing.

"So…you're really just as lost as I am?" He asked and you looked up, surprised to see him smiling softly. You thought he was going to make fun of you, not commiserate.

"Yeah. It wasn't like, a put-on to make you feel at ease or anything. I suck at math. I mean, it's always been a struggle, but it just keeps getting harder and harder. I hate that there's all this useless stuff but then some things are totally necessary and they seem to fit into other subjects."

"What do you mean?'

"Well, like. I'm dreading chemistry next year. Don't get me wrong, I love science. It's all these mysteries you get to figure out and sometimes there's explosions," you smiled at the chuckle he gave you for that, "but I've heard chemistry is the really math-intensive science. Second semester is supposed to be all equations and stuff. Which, I see the practical application in so there's less explosions than necessary, but still. Way to suck the joy out of it, with math."

"You're funny." He said and you weren't sure if it was a jibe or sincere, "I guess…that's what I like about writing, too." He offered up, finally giving in to your attempt at small talk. "Journalism is like uncovering the mystery, getting to the bottom of it and figuring stuff out. Admittedly, there's fewer explosions."

"Generally speaking." You mused, and noticed how straight and even his teeth were when he smiled back at you. "Never really know about Hawkins these days." 

He lowered his voice, almost conspiratorially and leaned forward towards you, "You know, I don't think there was really a 'mall fire' like they said. It seems a little hush-hush and covered up. So many things don't add up, and I've been digging into them."

"Really?" You asked and the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Your face fell and you realized how invested you were in this conversation, and not just as an escape from math. "You'll have to tell me more about it sometime." You said, packing your things into your bookbag.

~~**~~**~~

"How did you end up doing on that assignment?" You asked him after class at the end of the week. You hadn't been assigned to work together and you didn't really have an opportunity to speak to him otherwise…or have much to say to break the ice. But since that day you were paired together, you hadn't been able to get Fred out of your mind and caught yourself stealing glances his way during class on more than one occasion. He was just so different than you had imagined he'd be. His similar failure with math made him seem more 'normal' to you. More human. There hadn't been a rude comment directed at you or anyone else, only at Geometry, and you were more than okay with that.

"Ugh," he groaned at the reminder, "I scraped a C out of it. You?"

"C-minus," you nodded in return, "but hey, that's passing." 

"Well, I could tutor you and make that minus go away," he joked and you noticed the mischievous glint in his eye. 

"Oh, wow. You mean I could really have a C, like you?" You asked in mock-wonderment and he acknowledged it for the joke it was, laughing. "Hey, so you were gonna tell me your mall conspiracy theories."

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue in response, "that's really more of a rabbit hole than we have time for right now." 

"Oh, yeah. I guess so, huh?" You had been too caught up in the conversation to think logically that you had limited time in between classes. 

"Tell you what, why don't you come to the Streak office after school? I can show you some of the research I've pulled." It was a simple, friendly request but your heart hammered in your chest at the prospect. 

"Okay, sure," you agreed automatically, your mouth taking over for your brain, which was currently miles away. 

"Great! I'll see you then!" Fred hooked a thumb under the strap of his bag and walked away jauntily, leaving you to wonder what exactly just happened.

Towards the end, i wanted to spend all my nights with you wrapped around you snuggled into you. Give more movies of me nuzzling your face, your neck, your shoulder. Give more minutes of my hand in your hair.

And wtf we decided to lie down on the street

I was my goofiest around you.