#scottt

A while 

a/n: Thank for the request bb <3 This is like weeks overdue, but I’m finally done with midterms so to the others who requested I'm getting through everything right now!

Word Count: 1.1K

The hospital smell flooded your senses as you walked through the doors. 

The call you got from Kate, of all people, was not something you expected. You liked the girl, sure. She was nice and had separated you and your boyfriend. It was weird having her call your phone, though. You hadn’t even been sure she had your number.

She barely got five words out before you hung up and started to drive.

Apparently, Javi and Scott had gotten into a little mishap after underestimating how close the tornado was going to get.

You packed Scott a bag, knowing he was a bit germ-crazy, adding some clothes, his toothbrush, and some other night things, assuming he’d have to stay the night.

Maybe it was a little premature. You knew he had been taken in the ambulance—Kate had said he was conscious but also looking concussed. Still, even if he wasn’t staying the night, he’d probably want to change.

Walking through the hospital hallway after lying to the secretary about being Scott’s wife—since only family was allowed—you popped your head into Javi’s room next door. Tyler and Kate were sitting in the visiting chairs.

Tyler smiled, waving you over, but you shook your head. “Sorry. I’ll come back. I’m going to check on Scott. Just wanted to make sure Javi was fine.”

Javi laughed, knowing damn well you weren’t coming back after seeing Scott.

His door was closed, so you knocked softly, but there was no answer. Assuming he was asleep, you opened the door anyway and headed in.

The sound of voices filled the room, and you mentally face-palmed when you heard Scott arguing.

“I’m fine. Get this shit off me.” Heading fully inside, you saw that the "thing" he wanted off was an arm cast. No one had seen you yet.

“Sir, we’re trying to set your arm back in place. If you don’t have the cast, you’ll move it too much. The bones will heal on their own, but they need support, and if you’re moving it and banging it into things, it’s never going to heal.” You could hear the doctor’s exasperated voice, so you cleared your throat and made your way over.

The frustrated expression on Scott’s face softened when he saw you but didn’t disappear. He let the corners of his mouth tip up and moved out his good arm to beckon you over. With no objections, you quickly made it to his side, hugging him awkwardly so as not to hurt his bad arm. 

“What took you so long?” There was a bit of a whine in his voice, not that he’d ever admit it.

“What do you mean, what took me so long? Kate was the one who called me!” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“My phone got crushed. And I would’ve called you myself from Javi’s phone, but these doctors are insistent on me not using my arms,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the poor nurse.

“Arm, sir. One. The other is alright. I mean, you should take it easy. You still have a couple of bruises, but you’re fine overall.” Scott scowled, letting his head fall on your abdomen while the nurse left with a sigh.

You smiled softly as he moved over so you could sit on the bed next to him. “I told the secretary we were married,” you said, assuming it would get a smile out of him.

And it did. “Yeah? Where’s the ring?” he asked, picking up your hand.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, and he rolled his eyes, putting an arm around your shoulder to bring your head to rest on his chest. “Give me a few months.”

You had only been teasing anyway. “So, why are you giving these poor nurses trouble for doing their jobs?”

“I need both my arms. Both. How am I supposed to get anything done with only one? I’ll be half as fast and more of a liability than anything, and—” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, and he sighed softly.

When you pulled away, you looked at his food tray before actually speaking up. “You okay? It’s not the best news to get when you’re driving home from work, hearing your boyfriend is being taken to the hospital.”

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bed. “I’m fine, really. Don’t sweat it. It was a stupid miscalculation. All of this could’ve easily been avoidable if we hadn’t been moving so slow. Javi said we had more time. I thought we had more time.”

You didn’t say anything right away, knowing he needed to take a few breaths when he got like this. “I’m fine, though. Sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear I would’ve called, but my phone got crushed with the back of the truck.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry. I was only messing around earlier. I’m glad you’re okay.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and shook his head. “A sweatshirt would be great. S’fucking cold in here,” he mumbled, and your ears perked up.

“I brought you a bag. That’s what took me so long,” you said excitedly, happy you could give him that. He squeezed your waist with his good hand.

“This is why I love you,” he mumbled into your hair. You side-eyed him a bit.

“That’s it?” you asked, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for the sweatshirt and toothbrush. You snorted, handing him both, and after a struggle to get the sweatshirt over his head and helping him to the bathroom despite his dizziness, he settled himself against the hospital bed.

“I took off from work,” you mumbled, letting your hand brush through his dark hair. He glared at your words.

“Why would you do that? I’m fine,” he grumbled, attempting to roll his eyes, but it worsened the pounding in his head. You laughed, mumbling something about karma, and he pinched your side.

“We can just stay home for a couple days. I don’t trust you to actually stay home without anyone watching you.” He went to protest but was cut off when you gave him a disapproving look.

“Fine,” he said, looking like he was going to say more but glaring at something behind you. “What do you want, Owens?” You turned around to find Tyler leaning on the doorway.

“Relax. I’m not here for you. Your girlfriend said she’d come back to hang out with us in Javi’s room once she was done checking on you,” he said, smirking at Scott’s scowl.

“She will not be hanging out anywhere near you. She’ll get a worse headache than mine if she’s around your obnoxious ass.”

kteahen: Excited to launch a new concussion awareness campaign @parachutecanada with @ScottMoir @stevepod @pou29 and @SevenCan_CO. National PSA & billboards - photo shows our celeb athletes along with me and colleague @stephcowle at video shoot day. #CheckForConcussion #ConcussionEd

Dinner

a/n: Sorry it took a few days, thank you for requesting lovely <3 

Word Count: 0.8k

Scott knew you’d be tired from your day at work. He got home early—his uncle sent him off after it was a dead day, no tornadoes to be analyzed. While he should, morally, be happy about that, it frustrated him to no end to be set back from work a day because the planet decided to be civil.

Scott felt restless for the first hour. What was he supposed to do? His paperwork was done, you weren’t home, his friends were off somewhere being obnoxious in a bar, and he’d rather not join. Plus, there was genuinely nothing to do for work except wait.

He flinched when the cat you picked up from the streets purred at his leg, but the impulse to kick it was lessening day by day. (You promised Scott it would only be for a few days, but it’s been two weeks.) He was by no means inclined to pet the thing, but he could admit it was cute. Kind of.

He sighed, grabbing the tuna pack you bought and opening it with a grimace at the smell. He placed it down in the small bowl that was now set aside for the “temporary” cat.

After pacing about the house and fixing things that didn’t need to be fixed, he figured if he was going to be home, doing nothing since you were gone, he might as well make dinner.

You could hardly cook, or maybe you just pretended not to because you liked it when he did—Scott couldn’t tell half the time. Still, he couldn’t find a reason not to make dinner. You would both be home for once, and while ordering takeout was appealing, you two had already done that three days in a row.

A couple of hours later, Scott was letting the food cool off when he heard the front door opening and a rather loud bump. When he got there, you were on the floor, looking sheepish.

He stared, a little exasperated, hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “You’re wearing sneakers and there’s nothing around to trip over,” he grumbled, grabbing your waist to haul you up like you weighed nothing.

The grumbling didn’t faze you, and you shrugged. “You underestimate how easy it is to trip on air,” you said, hugging his torso since he already had his arms wrapped around your waist.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head with an eye roll. “Right.” it came out dry.

The smell of the food practically levitated you from the front door to the kitchen, and you smiled at him fondly when he trailed after you.

“You cooked.” you teased, but the way you said it made it sound more sickly sweet. He made you your favorite.

“I did,” he said, shrugging a little embarrassed. “I figured you should eat something with actual nutritional value instead of Chinese or pizza again.”

You sat at the counter (he set two places) eagerly and went to try a spoonful, and half moaned at the taste, but your eye caught something that made you grin.

His eyes narrowed when he saw you beam. “What?” he asked roughly, trying to mask his insecurity, thinking the smile was over the food tasting bad.

You lifted your chin toward the direction of the half-eaten food in the cat’s bowl. “You fed him,” you noted, doing your best not to laugh or he’d get that angry look between his eyebrows for the rest of the night.

“It looked hungry,” Scott defended. “Plus, you already bought all that tuna. We need to get rid of it one way or another.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Scott sighed, not having it in him to scowl when you looked so happy. “Whatever.”

You got up from your seat at the counter and moved to stand behind him on his own chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing a kiss behind his ear, grinning when you felt him relax. “You’re awfully tense for someone who’s been home all day.”

“It’s awful. I’m not even sick. It was such a waste,” he said, the words laced with such scorn that it caused you to snort.

“Most people would be happy to get a day off and still get paid.”

“It would’ve been better if you called out.”

You hummed, taking a hand to brush through his hair. “I took one too many sick days already,” causing Scott to redden. You had taken them after Scott had gotten particularly roughed up after following a storm, Javi having miscalculated how much time he actually had before it would hit the truck.

Scott moved to protest, wanting to say it wasn’t his fault and that he had told you to go to work—he would've been fine in the hospital alone—but you cut him off, pressing your mouth to his to quiet him.

He sighed into the kiss, the words dying on his lips. Until he pulled away to ask, “Well?” You gave him a quizzical look, and he huffed. “The food. Do you like it?”