#darkpilotedit

“Would you prefer another physician?”

Poe tried a smile. “Sure. Is your mom around?”

It didn’t work. Ben clicked the flashlight off and slid it into the pocket of his lab coat. “No. She’s in El Paso with my dad.”

“What? Why?”

“She’s speaking at a conference.”

Poe hummed in acknowledgement and he sat up at Ben’s urging, gingerly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Ben’s gloved hands felt along the base of his skull and down his neck.

“Hey, the doctor on duty already looked me over,” Poe reached up, but Ben snatched his hands away. “It’s just a minor concussion. I’m okay.”

“Which one of us signs MD behind their name?” Ben asked. “Because until it’s you, I think I’ll be the one that decides whether or not you’re okay.”

Poe tried to lift his eyebrows in response to the icy tone and winced when it irritated his stitches. His mouth opened, immediately on the defensive, and then shut again. Something in his expression softened.

Ben scoffed and turned away, unlocking the computer in the room with a swipe of his identification card. “Don’t.”

“You have no idea what what I was going to say.”

“Really?” Ben typed in Poe’s full name and date of birth to pull up his existing records. “Because you always say the same thing. It’s part of the job.”

Poe slid off the bed, keeping one hand firmly on the rail as he took a step closer. “What was I supposed to do, Ben? It was a kid in the middle of an asthma attack.”

“I’m not talking about the kid,” Ben shouted, loud enough that he could hear the squeak of shoes in the hall when someone jolted at the sudden noise. “I’m talking about the fucking bank robbery you volunteered to go into. I’m talking about the fact that you put a tube in a bank robber’s lung in the field — which you are not qualified to do — because you realized you were dealing with a hemopneumothrax, and then you tried to treat a little girl’s asthma attack and you were hit over the head because you wouldn’t listen when the person pointing the gun at you told you to stop.”

By the time he was done, Ben’s chest was rising and falling rapidly with exertion. He brushed his hair out of his face to reveal bright spots of color on his pale face.

“Ben.”

“I’m not saying that you didn’t do the right thing. I’m saying...” There were pinpricks of heat in the corners of his eyes. “I’m saying –”

“Ben,” Poe repeated. He hedged into his personal space slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal. “I’m okay.”

His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth ached when he opened his mouth to respond. “And next time? When you’re rolled into my hospital with a gunshot wound?” He swallowed. “Or worse?”

“First of all, it’s your mom’s hospital,” Poe pointed out. He settled back on the edge of the bed and offered a smile. “She’s the chief medical officer. You’re still a first year, remember?”

Ben wasn’t in the mood for technicalities. Or Poe’s attempt at humor. Suddenly exhausted, he sank down onto the stool and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I watched the whole thing on the news.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Which means I had to watch you walk into the bank in a bulletproof vest.”

“Well,” Poe winked with the eye that didn’t have a bandage. “Hope I looked good for my close up.”

Ben cut him a sharp glance as he turned back to the computer. “I wasn’t really concerned with how you looked.”

There was a jostle at the base of the stool. Ben looked down to see Poe working the toe of his boot around the curve of the base. He lifted his feet, allowing Poe to pull him over to the bed.

“You know,” Poe’s hand smoothed Ben’s hair away from his face. His palm settled on the curve of Ben’s neck. “It’s cute when you’re worried.”

Ben’s frown deepened, but his voice lost its bite. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Poe brushed his thumb over the corner of Ben’s mouth. They were rarely eye to eye like this. Poe took full advantage, tilting forward to brush a kiss across Ben’s forehead.

Despite everything, the residual anger and frustration started to wane. Ben reached out. The fabric of Poe’s shirt wrinkled in his grasp when he fisted a hand at his shoulder. Poe smelled like sweat and blood and there was a healthy amount of grime on the skin that hadn’t been cleaned by the nurses or doctors when he’d been brought in. It had been a grueling four hours inside that bank. The longest of Ben’s life. He couldn’t imagine how Poe felt. He needed a shower, Ben realized, and rest. He shouldn’t be wasting what strength remained offering comfort, but he pressed a firmer kiss to Ben’s cheekbone and fiddled with the ends of Ben’s hair anyway. 

A long moment passed in which they said nothing, just listened to the distant sounds of monitors beeping and footsteps in the hall. 

“Well,” Ben said finally, leaning back. He slid the stool back across the floor and pulled the keyboard closer. “We don’t even need to keep you for observation, but you shouldn’t drive yourself home.”

“Can I sleep?”

Ben nodded. “You’re okay to sleep. I’m going to prescribe odansetron for nausea and bed rest for a week.”

“A week?” Poe visibly blanched. “Let’s try a day.”

Ben tapped his ID card where it rested over his heart. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about the initials behind my name?”

“Three days.”

“Medical care is not a negotiation. A week.” He locked the computer screen and rose from his seat, tilting his head to one side in observation. “Maybe two.”

Poe groaned. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I still have a few hours left on my shift. You can wait here until I’m done with rounds.”

“Someone’s feeling bossy,” Poe grumbled, but his eyelids were starting to grow heavy. Ben helped ease him back into a reclining position on the bed. Poe grabbed onto his wrist as Ben turned to go. “Hey. Thanks.”

Ben felt his lips twitch. “I would say don’t do that to me again, but we both know you will.”

Poe smiled and closed his eyes. “Yep.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you still love me.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Occasionally.”

Poe’s breathing slowed as he started to drift off. “All the time.”