Written on my lunch break based loosely on something that happened in my office waiting room this morning. Counting this as my participation in Writing Wednesday as tagged by @corporatebanana and @devirnis. If anyone else is sharing you should tag me also I love to be nosy and see things!!!!!
Tommy doesn't get many FaceTime calls. Usually it's one of Sal's daughters, using his phone to show off an achievement or an injury. Occasionally it's Lucy when she's shopping for Harbor's snack cubpard and they don't have the specific brand of pretzels he likes and she needs him to pick an alternative.
So when Tommy answers his phone on instinct while working in his garage, he's shocked when a face fills up the screen. He's even more shocked that the face belongs to a little boy, one who's brow is scrunched up in confusion.
"You're not a game," he says somewhat petulantly. And loudly, the volume making Tommy move the phone further away from his face.
"No, I am not," Tommy confirms, now squinting at the screen to try and see who's calling him. "Sorry, kid."
"Theo, please give me the phone back," a strained voice calls out from off screen. A very familiar voice, one that means this whole situation makes even less sense than it did before.
"But the lady said to play a game on my Daddy's phone while you did boring grown up stuff," the boy who is apparently Theo yells out, just as loud as before. It's the same way that Evan's voice used to rise in volume when he got excited about something. "Who's 'Daddy?'" he asks just as Evan's face enters into frame, turning a furious red at the question.
"Um," he says, refusing to look at Tommy at all. He's crouching down, some sort of desk behind him and Theo, and Tommy thinks he can hear a phone ringing in the background. "J-just let me see the phone and I'll pull up a game for you, okay?"
"No I don't wanna play a game anymore," Theo whines. He apparently still has custody of the phone, Tommy's view blurring as he shakes the phone in his little hands. "I wanna talk to funny eyebrow man."
"Well mister, uh. Tommy is probably really busy right now so—"
"I'm not busy," Tommy finds himself saying. He tells himself that he keeps the call going just out of curiosity, a burning desire to find out what in the fresh hell has been happening in his absence. Deep down, though, he knows it's because he's never been able to see an Evan Buckley in need and not jump in to help.
From somewhere to the side, Tommy hears Buck sigh deeply. "Theo you can talk to Tommy while you wait for me to fill out paperwork, but only if you use your inside voice. Deal?"
Theo nods solemnly, phone moving with his head. "Deal," he says, in what is clearly a small child's impression of a whisper.
"Theo, did you know that I fly helicopters?" Tommy asks, making sure to keep his voice quiet. Just as he suspected, Theo's face lights up in excitement as he turns to face the screen again. Next to him, Tommy can just barley catch Evan standing back up.
"Woah," Theo says, bouncing a little. His hair looks sort of like Buck's does when he first wakes up in the morning. Tommy isn't sure what to think about that.
He and Theo talk about helicopters for maybe five minutes while Buck presumably fills out paperwork behind him, and Tommy only has to suggest they both talk a little quieter one time. Just like Evan, Theo seems to lock in on things he finds fascinating, and Tommy is half way through listing out the various instruments inside a helicopter when Evan ducks back down again.
"Alright, bud, the boring stuff is over but we still have to wait a little bit before the doctor comes to grab us. They receptionist says there are some toys and books in the waiting room, if you want to go play with those?" He says it almost hopefully, like he's worried that Theo is as interested in Tommy as he used to be, and that Evan will never get his phone back.
Theo shakes his head emphatically. "Nooooo, funny eyebrow man is telling my about the click click."
"Cyclic," Tommy corrects gently. "But that was pretty close. You'll be up in the air in no time."
Buck drops his head, sighing in defeat. "You can keep talking while we wait, as long as you stay quiet and hang up when the doctor comes." Apparently, Evan has yet to learn his lesson about bargaining with a kid.
"Yay!" Theo cries, drawing out the word, and pretty soon the sound of tiny sneakers running on linoleum fills the speaker as Theo bounces over to the main waiting room. Evan offers to hold the phone while he climbs onto the seat, but Theo insists on doing it himself, and pretty soon Tommy finds himself getting interrogated once more.
He can see Evan's arm in the corner of the screen, and Tommy tries not to spend the entire call staring at where the sleeve of his shirt wraps tightly around his bicep. After several more minutes of chatting, Tommy hears Theo's name called out, and the little boy groans, slumping in his chair.
"Hey," Evan says, leaning over. "Remember what I said? We have to say goodbye now because the doctor is ready for us."
Theo's pout is on full display, something else that looks achingly familiar to Tommy. "But I don't wanna!"
"Theo you promised you would hang up when it was time to see the doctor." Evan reaches for the phone but Theo pulls it away. "What…um. M-maybe we can call Tommy again later, after the doctor?" Tommy can't see Evan's face, but he can certainly imagine it.
Curious, Theo looks between the phone and Evan. "Can we?" he asks, directing his queation to Tommy.
"Or," Tommy says. "Maybe we could see each other in person sometime. I could show you what a real helicopter looks like."
"Really?" Theo is practically vibrating out of his seat now.
"Yeah, but you have to hang up and go see the doctor first."
"Okay!" Theo agrees happily, and before Tommy can say anything else the call ends.
Tommy blinks at the dark screen for a few moments, half expecting to get a call back, but when nothing happens he sets his phone down again and tries to focus back on the oil change he had started 20 minutes ago.
An hour later, his phone dings again, this time with a text.
Did you mean it Evan had asked him.
Yes Tommy sends back immediately.
At least, I meant what I said about taking Theo to see a helicopter.
He hesitates a moment before sending one final text. Some other things I've said in the past…I might not have meant those.
Tommy has just started to bite his nails, a habit he thought he kicked decades ago, when his phone screen lights back up.
Good the text reads.
And then: Me too.
And finally: Are you free Saturday?
The sigh Tommy lets out feels like one that he's been holding in for over a year, and he doesn't think he's imagining the tension leaving his shoulders. I am he texts back.
Evan reacts to the message with a thumbs up, and then moments later changes it to a heart. Tommy's own skips a beat.
Sounds like a plan is the response. This time, Tommy reacts with a heart straight away.
There's no other messages after, and he figures Evan is probably somewhere wrangling a small child, if he had to guess. Tommy sets his phone down, whistling while he finishes up the maintenance on his truck. For the first time in a long time, he's got something to look forward to this weekend.
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Hi hello good afternoon we've all seen this post right?? Where I try to spread my agenda of drag queen Tommy Kinard aka Cock Pitt? Well, what if I told you I was gripped by a vision of a possible first meeting and proceeded to type out 1.6k on my phone that would be pretty crazy, huh? ha. haha.
Huge thanks to @corporatebanana and @queermccoy who I talked with the concept about last night and especially alec who I believe is the one who came up with the title I am using for this. Hope you all enjoy!!
Buck spends the first two weeks of Pride Month popping up at the Wilson's house at various times when they aren't working. He's been in LA for years now, but for some reason this June feels different to him, prompting him to come to his friends with all sorts of questions about what its like being queer and various aspects of queer history. Hen gives him a reading list, after the first visit, and even loans him some of her own books, so most of his visits after that end up as a sort of book club between the three of them.
Sometimes they'll video call with Michael, too, and Buck can't help but notice the knowing looks the three of them exchange. He tries to rope Josh into his discussion, but Josh is less interested in discussing queer life than he is living it.
"You need to go to a gay club," Josh tells him in the dispatch break room where Buck had conveniently stopped by to bring Maddie some coffee while Josh was on his break. "Find a guy whose look you like and just…make out with him. Trust me, there is no better way to find out where you might fall on the spectrum than that."
After copious amounts of research and reading way too many Reddit threads, Buck picks a gay club, gets dressed up, and heads out for the evening on his next 72 off. The whole ride there he worries that it's going to take him all night to find someone he wants to try to kiss, someone who will also want to kiss him back, but as soon as he walks in the door those worries fade away.
In no time at all, Buck is pressed against a beautiful man, just as tall and broad as he is, shirt unbuttoned to show of his hairy chest. It's not something Buck has ever consciously considered could be attractive before, but now—running his hands over a firm, sweaty chest—he thinks he sees the appeal.
They make out right there on the dance floor, and Buck feels like he's flying. He declines the strangers offer to leave the club together, and it isn't until he gets into his Uber home that he realizes he didn't have one drink the entire night.
When he wakes up the next morning his lips are still tingling, and he doesn't bother to do anything more than brush his teeth before he speeds over to the Wilson's.
"I think I'm bisexual," Buck blurts out to Karen as soon as she opens the front door.
"And good morning to you, too, Buck," she says. She's smiling as she says it though, and gives him a big, warm hug before ushering him inside.
Hen and Karen throw him a mini coming out party, and call Michael to share the news with him. Apparently they've had a bottle of champagne chilling in their wine cooler for ages, wanting to be prepared to celebrate whenever he was ready to share his news.
When Buck reveals he would love to go see drag in person sometime, as a way to learn more about different parts of the queer community, Hen's eyes light up.
"I know an incredible drag queen," she says, hand on the table and leaning towards him. "She normally does drag brunch because she doesn't like the late hours of the other shows, but I can definitely get us a table at her next performance."
They figure out the next time they all have a Saturday off and Hen gets a table for the three of them to go. Buck feels nervous leading up to it, worried he's going to be found out for not being "queer enough" for drag brunch. Like the queens are all going to take one look and see right through him.
Just like with the gay club, his fears don't last long. The queen at the door is immediately delighted with him, brazenly flirting with him in a way that makes him giggle and blush. She leads the three of them to their seats, joking with Hen and Karen like she's met them before, and Buck peruses the list of performers.
"Is this a first responder themed drag brunch?" He asks Hen and Karen.
Hen laughs. "Buck, all of these queens work or have worked for the LAFD in some capacity. They get together every Pride to perform some shows to raise money for charity and retired queer firefighters."
"Wow," Buck says. The drag queen from the door being named Smokey Jumper makes more sense now. He turns around in his chair to look at her again, tries to imagine her without the heels and the hair and the…chest. Can easily picture her jumping from a helicopter to help put out forest fires. "That's so cool!"
Every part of the show is amazing, but almost all of the queens make a reference to the final act at some point during their performance, and by the time things are wrapping up—and Buck is about six mimosas deep—he's nearly bouncing in his chair with excitement. Hen and Karen haven't mentioned which queen is the one they know, but they've been saving a stack of ones for the last performer so Buck has a pretty good idea she's the one.
Sure enough, when the closing act swoops out on stage, Hen and Karen's cheers are loud enough to drown out everyone else in the crowd. The queen blows them a kiss and gives them a little wave before starting her performance.
Her name is Cock Pitt, a fact she reveals proudly while delicately lifting up her arms behind her head, showing off her hairy armpits. The move makes the crowd roar, and several of the other queens—who are now watching the other performances—fan themselves dramatically. Cock Pitt somehow finds a way to work the low battery beep of a smoke detector seamlessly into her performance, and gives an impressive demonstration on stop, drop, and roll that involves more splits than Buck remembers.
Buck had blown through all of his bills early on, but Hen and Karen graciously loan him some of theirs to throw her way. Their table is situated right at the end of the run way, and when Cock Pitt shimmies over their direction, grabbing onto the back of Buck's chair and bending low, shaking her generous cleavage in Buck's face, he boldly stuffs a few bills down the front her dress. He gets an up close look at her pits, too, which are just as hairy as the man he made out with at the club.
Cock Pitt winks at him before standing back up, spinning around and strutting back down the runway. She is by far the best performance of the morning, in Buck's humble opinion, and when Hen and Karen ask if he wants to meet her Buck jumps at the chance. They lead him back to the green room, where most of the queens are milling about, talking with each other or friends of theirs who were in the audience. The three of them work their way through the room until they make their way to a makeup table all the way in the back.
"Cock!" Buck exclaims when he sees her sitting in her chair. Cock Pitt somehow manages to raise her eyebrows at him, even though Buck knows they're fake, and he blushes. "I mean, Miss Coc—um, Miss Pitt, it's an honor to meet you." He holds his hand out for her to shake, which she regards with some incredulousness before holding out hers limply in response. Buck is so busy staring into her eyes it takes a moment for him to grab the proffered hand and raise it to his lips for a kiss.
"I'm charmed," she says, and her voice sends a shiver down his spine. "Did you enjoy the performance?"
Buck nods his head eagerly. He's still holding onto her hand and only after Cock Pitt glances down at where their hands are clasped does he finally drop it. "You were the best performance of the whole morning. I've never seen anything like it," he gushes. "I mean, you are incredible!"
"Thank you, sugar," says Cock Pitt. She lets her eyes trail up and down his body. "You're wearing a bit more clothes than the last time I saw you."
Buck startles at her words, trying to figure out when else he would have met her, and while wearing less clothes, too. It isn't until he catches a familiar twinkle in her blue eyes, a slight twist of her mouth, that the pieces click together and his jaw drops.
"That was you? At the club, I was dancing with you?" Behind him, Hen and Karen have slowly migrated away from Cock Pitt's table to talk with some of the other queens, but Buck doesn't even notice. He scans over Cock Pitt, searching for the broad, hairy man who had changed his whole world. He can't quite find him, but he discovers he likes this view just as much.
"Can…can I see you again?" he asks, biting his lip.
"Which one of us?" she asks, giving him an appraising look.
"Yes," Buck says. "Uh, I mean both! Definitely both of you." He's nodding his head again, probably looks like a bobble head on the dash of a cross country trucker, but he can't help it. He steps a little closer, tilting his head and fluttering his lashes in a way that always drives women crazy. Cock Pitt, it seems, is no exception.
"Tell Hen to give you my number," she says with a smirk. "And if you're lucky, I might text you back." With that, she turns around towards her mirror again and starts pulling bobby pins out of her hair.
"Thank you," Buck says eagerly, giving her one last look before spinning around to find Hen. He has a feeling he's about to get very, very lucky.
In honor of the one year birthday of my first superman au post I have a gift for you all featuring our favorite duo. This one is hot off the press I typed this up special today just for you. I have been tagged by (and am tagging back) @devirnis @corporatebanana @trombonechurchill @a-mel0n and @wee-fuckin-woo and am also tagging @queermccoy @dharmaavocado @frogsinflannel plus anyone else who wants to join!
Also we are officially past 50k for this wip yippee lets hope the next 50k doesn't take as long lol
"Two hostages is better than one, right?" he sneers at Buck. "Hopefully you have a brain behind that pretty face and know not to open your damn mouth while we do this."
"W-what's 'this'?"
Trent slams him against the side of the ambulance, knocking his head against it. The back doors are still open and Buck can hear the other goon talking to the paramedic from inside.
"This is none of your fucking business," he growls, shoving his gun into Buck's stomach.
Distantly, buck wonders where Athena is, if she's still held up helping the guards with the riot. If she's even noticed that Buck disobeyed her and wandered away like a lost little lamb. He cranes his neck to try and see the door, but there's a wall behind Trent, blocking off some kind of mechanical equipment kept behind it, and Buck can't see a thing besides that.
"You can't threaten a first responder," Buck says. "That's a felony."
Snarling, Trent pulls him back from the ambulance just far enough that he can pistol whip him across the face. It's so sudden and so jarring that it sends Buck falling to the ground, just as a huge whoosh of wind blows past. Buck is facing the wall so he can't really see anything that's happening in the ambulance or on the other side of it, but he does see as Trent is abruptly removed from his line of sight.
There's the sound of raised voices in the distance, one of which sounds almost familiar to Buck as he raises up on his elbow, pressing his other against his face.
"Evan!" Superman's voice is full of concern as he lands with a thud, kneeling next to Buck on the ground.
"I-I'm o-okay," Buck stutters out, wincing as he tries to sit up further. He tries to ask Superman if he's bleeding, but before he can get another word out he's scooped into a warm, steady embrace as a pair of chapped lips are pressed to his.
Buck clings to Superman, arms wrapped tight around him, fingers pressed into the firm muscles of his back. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, can't tell if its from the head trauma or the kiss, but either way he doesn't stop. They kiss until Buck has to pull back for air, although Superman doesn't let him go very far, keeping their foreheads pressed together as Buck gasps against his mouth.
"I was so worried," he murmurs against Buck's lips. He tilts Buck's head back far enough to look at him, eyes wet with worry. Superman's large hand is cradling his face, a mirror of how they stood in the alley way that night, and cocooned between the ambulance and the wall Buck feels as if the two of them are in a bubble. Nothing else exists right now except for them.
"I'm okay," Buck says again, still soft but more sure than before. He reaches his hand up to grab Superman's where it rests against his face. Turning his head slightly he lets the curve of Superman's palm press against his mouth in an almost kiss.
They sit like that, curled up on the pavement together and breathing in sync, until Athena's voice calls out from behind the wall, starling them apart.
it's age gap april so even tho I don't go here can I get uhhhhh "what are you asking for" for babyshark? 👀
Hiiii Kathy thank you so much for indulging me I hope you still enjoy 🫶🫶🫶 (also I added a word to your prompt sorry it just felt right)(also oops more than five sentences sorry not sorry)
"What exactly are you asking for?" Dr. Park says, big arms crossed over his even bigger chest, face impassive.
Emma tries to swallow, but even months into their arrangement her mouth still goes dry whenever he gets like this.
"I just thought it would make sense, you know, since I'm usually so tired after my shifts but you can be, um, kind of wound up and so-"
"Emma."
Her mouth snaps shut, hands nervously fidgeting with the end of one of her braids.
"Are you asking me to fuck you when you're asleep?"
Emma nods. "Yes, please." He's let her off easy, usually he forces her to tell him exactly what she wants, word for word, or he won't do it.
"Well with manners like that, how can I refuse?"
(give me a ship and a sentence and I'll write the next five)
Please enjoy 500ish words of some not quite spec about the episode and more what I wish the show would do. What do you mean it's been 9 seasons and we haven't given anyone amnesia yet???
The hospital feels both familiar and foreign to him. Something about the rhythmic beeping is comforting, in a way, but none of his surroundings do anything to jog his sluggish brain into memory.
"Good morning, Mr. Doe," a nurse says cheerfully. She's wearing navy blue scrubs and neon pink glasses, dark hair in a carefully twisted braid behind her head. "How are you feeling today?"
"Uh…" His voice comes out rough and scratchy, and the nurse has to help him take a sip of water before he can clear his throat and speak. "Mr…Mr. Doe? That's me?"
"John, we've been over this," the nurse says with a little laugh. "You came in a few days ago after the police found you unconscious on the side of the road."
His heart thuds painfully at her words. As she talks, the nurse—Star, her name badge reads—moves around the bed, checking the various tubes and needles hooked up to his body. She gets out a blood pressure cuff and straps it to his arm.
"You seem to be suffering from both retrograde and anterograde amnesia." The cuff tightens around his bicep. "The doctors expect the anterograde amnesia to resolve on its own once you've recovered from you injuries a little more and the swelling in your brain has gone down."
He watches with Star as his blood pressure pops up on the screen next to his bed and frowns. There's something wrong about it. He doesn't know why he knows that.
"And th-th-the retrograde amnesia?"
Star hesitates before answering, and he wonders often she's had to explain this all to him before. "It's hard to say," she hedges, putting away the cuff. She takes her stethoscope from around her neck, putting it into her ears and pressing the diaphragm against his chest.
He frowns again. Why does he know so much about a stethescope?
"The doctors aren't sure yet if your memories will return when your brain heals, or if it's a result of something you went through before the police found you."
"Fuck."
Star smiles at him. "You said that last time, too." She pulls back and places the stethoscope around her neck again. "Your breath sounds are clear and even, Mr. Doe, which is a very good sign. Breakfast is going to be brought up shortly, if you think you can stay awake for it, but if not I'll have the kitchen bring you something when you wake up." She smiles at him once more befire walking out the door, leaving him alone again.
He just barely manages to stay awake through breakfast, and tries to avoid falling asleep again long enough to speak with the doctors, but as soon as Star comes in to clear away the dishes his eyes are falling shut again. He just hopes he isn't taking his new memories with him.
Sitting in the LAFD hanger 1,500 miles away, Tommy Kinard gets a call from Howie.
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"So-so is that enough? For you to get a sample from?"
Alec looks up at him from the iPad with a raised eyebrow. "Dude, this is like. Twenty pages of writing. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to pull the letters I need from here."
Buck rubs his hands against his thighs, feeling clammy even though he's no stranger to needles by this point.
"O-okay, great! How, um, how long do you think this will take?"
Alec scratches their forehead while examining the scanned files Buck had emailed over before his appointment. "A few minutes, probably? Going to have my software pull out the letters we need and then we can go from there." They look back up at Buck. "You know what placement you want?"
Buck nods. "Yeah, the left wrist? If you can make it fit there."
"Shouldn't be a problem, I'll adjust the size when I print out the stencil." Alec stands up, then, and moves towards the computer at the back of the studio, leaving Buck at the bench.
His hands feel twitchy again, and he reaches over to grab the one lying next to him, squeezing tightly.
"You okay?" Tommy asks softly, and it's an echo of all those months ago, dinner in the loft when they first started dating, Buck grapling for the first time with what the loss of Bobby might mean for him.
He leans to the side, his shoulder digging into Tommy's. He allows the press of their bodies to seep through him like morphine in an IV line, let's the comfort soak into his pores like a sponge. As sure as Buck is that he wants to do this, he knows he wouldn't be able to without Tommy next to him, not without shattering into a million pieces the second the needle pierces his body.
"No," he answers finally. There's a soft scratch of calloused skin as Tommy's thumb smooths over the top of his hand. "But this is...not making it better, but." He stops, unsure how to explain it. This isn't going to fix anything, not really. But it's still going to mean something, to him, something that will hopefully cut deeper than his grief.
Tommy squeezes his hand again. "Yeah," he says. "I get it. You can carry him with you, now."
The sting of tears is all too familiar these days, but it still catches him by surprise now. He had had a nice, long cry in the shower this morning, and another smaller one on the drive over, Tommy's hand on his thigh the only thing keeping him from floating away from his body. Buck had thought he had cried out all his tears at least a dozen times by now, but miraculously his body keeps producing more.
Alec choses this moment to return to their little corner of the studio, stencil in hand and effectively cutting off the incoming spiral. "You ready?" they ask. Buck dashes away his tears haphazardly.
"Yeah," he says. "Let's do this." He squeezes Tommy even tighter, pulls their joined hands into his lap while Alec prepares their tray and rolls over on the little stool to the other side of Buck. They methodically clean off the section of his wrist where the tattoo will go and gently apply the stencil.
"How's that look?"
Perfect, is the answer. It doesn't even look like Alec pulled the letters individually from the recipe cards Buck had scanned for them, but like one fluid phrase, like all the separate pieces fit together seamlessly.
Heartbreaking, is the other answer, because he can still hear the echo in his mind, can still feel the gaping, empty void where he didn't say it back.
His hand flexes in Tommy's. "It looks great, Alec." his boyfriend answers for him. Alec peers at Buck for a moment before they nod, pulling out the tattoo gun and getting to work.
The familiar buzzing sounds starts, but Buck can only look at his white knuckled grip on Tommy. Normally he loves getting to watch, seeing the transformation happen in real time, but this one stings differently than usual.
Between one blink and the next, it's over. Alec is wrapping the Saniderm around his wrist, reciting the care instructions to the two of them. Tommy thanks him, somehow knowing Buck still isn't able to speak without breaking apart, and they walk back up front to pay.
Tommy doesn't take the exit for Buck's house, gets off one earlier instead. Buck lets him come around to open the door for him, grabs his hand as he gets out, knows it's the only think keeping him from sprinting in the other direction.
The gravestone still looks new, and a little wrong, the grass only just starting to grow over top of where the dirt was recently unearthed.
"Hey, Bobby," he starts. Stops, takes a breath, and then another, before trying again. "I, um. I have so...so much I want to say to you." he sniffles. "But I...I guess the main thing is that. That I love you, too. So much, Bobby. And I, uh. I'm sorry I didn't. Didn't say it back to you when I had the chance."
Tommy switches the hand in Buck's hold so that he can put his arm around his shoulders and pull him close. He presses a kiss to the top of his head.
"I think he still knew. Even if you didn't say it, he knew." he whispers.
Buck jerks his head in a poor approximation of a nod. "Still nice to hear, it though." he says.
Tommy hums softly. "In that case, I should probably tell you that I love you."
Despite himself Buck smiles a little. It's not the first time Tommy's told him, and it won't be the last, but like he just said, it's nice to hear it all the same.
"Love you, too." he replies. "Thanks for being here."
"No where else I'd rather be." And Buck knows, with absolute certainty, that Tommy means it.
He looks down at his wrist, at the ink that still feels like it's settling into his skin, making a home there.
Hello alec !!! This was so fun thank you however once I again I have exceeded 5 sentences oops this is hard
"You know better than that," Dr. Park chides her, the words paired with a light slap to her bottom.
Emma squeaks in surprise, and before she can even fight back she is scooped up into a sturdy pair of arms and deposited back onto the couch.
Bracing one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on the back, Dr. Park cages her in, forcing her to look at him as he says: "I thought I told you, no weight on that for at least 3 days."
"Sorry Dr. Park," she says meekly. "I was just trying to get some more water and I didn't want to bother you."
She's been at Dr. Park's house for two days now, having sprained her ankle on her way out of work right in front of him. He very graciously inspected her ankle and after hearing she normally rode the bus to work he insisted on driving her him.
And then after seeing her apartment and how many stairs she had to climb, he had insisted she pack a bag and stay at his house while she recovered. He had even gone so far as to let Dana know she would be out for a few days while she healed.
Emma is so grateful for his help, truly she is! But she feels like a little kid having to call out in his giant house every time she needs the slightest thing.
"The only time you bother me is when you insist on using your sprained ankle before it heals," Dr. Park says. "And when insist on still calling me 'Dr. Park.'"
"Okay, Brenden," Emma says with a small smile.
"There, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Dr-Brenden says, just a hint of condescension in his tone, before going back into the kitchen to refill her water cup.
Emma watches him leave, the way he takes up space even in this hige house, and wonders how on earth she's going to go back to her small, empty apartment after this.
She wonders how long she can convince Brenden her ankle hurts.
(give me a ship and a sentence and I'll write the next five)
