Born 2 Blossom (Geboren om te bloeien)

“And this started when?” 

“Years ago. It doesn’t bother me that much. I’m just here because my boss made me.” 

“Right. I get a lot of blue-collar folks in here. Manual labor is hard on the body. Do you mind standing up and walking from that wall to this wall? I’d like to see your spine alignment.” 

Hank gets to his feet and winces, pain shooting through his back. You make a note. 

He walks back and forth, trying to disguise the pain he’s in, but something is very screwy at the moment. His last job, with Connor of course, ended with Hank taking a tumble off someone’s porch and into their hedges. All the cuts and scrapes were minor and have since scabbed over. He’s still got bruises all over, but his back and neck are what have been killing him. 

“Okay. Your hips are misaligned. That can happen from an accident, years of walking poorly, or even age. I suspect some ribs are also out of place. All of that will affect your neck and back. I’m going to have you lie face down on the bench here and we’ll get started.” 

Hank struggles to get himself onto the bench and settle into the cool pleather headrest. He squirms a little as you adjust his head and begin working along his neck. Your fingers are cool and soft, not at all how he expected them to be. 

“So, you’re a police officer?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, keenly aware of your fingers on his shoulders. “Lieutenant, actually.” 

“Oh, that’s quite impressive.” Your hands skate over his spine and across the span of his back toward his ribs. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, I dunno, cracking things? Not doing a massage?” 

“Massage is half of our work. If we don’t relax the muscles, we won’t be able to readjust your skeleton properly, and you may even get hurt. I promise, we’ll get to the adjustments soon.” 

Hank opens his mouth to complain but instead he lets out a long groan mixed with a pained cry. 

“That’s a sore spot,” you say so he doesn’t have to. “I can already feel how misaligned everything is. You’ve also got a lot of knots in your muscles, and I can see bruises all over. It’s going to be pretty painful when I adjust you and do the full massage. Are you okay with that?” 

“Get it over with,” he groans into the headrest. 

You prep Hank, pulling out a bottle of massage oil, a pair of gloves, and all your tools. You line everything up on the counter and turn back to Hank. 

“I’m going to have you flip over onto your back. I’ll start with your neck and move down.” 

Hank follows your directions with a lot of groans and sighs. Once he’s lying correctly, you begin working the muscles in his neck, down to his shoulders. You feel the knots loosening and the bones shifting. You cup his chin in one hands, and the back of his head with the other. You gently turn and twist his head, feeling for the moment everything is lined up so that you can … 

CRACK!

Hank lets out a shout that sends the pigeons outside flying into the sky. You keep holding his head, rubbing a soothing circle along his neck. 

“You’re okay. It’s loud and kinda scary, isn’t it? But I promise, you’re okay.” 

Hank takes far too long for his liking to catch his breath. “That … What the hell?” 

“Have you ever been to the chiropractor before?”

“No.” 

“That explains it. You’ve got all these decades of stress and pain being stored in your body. I’m going to do the other side of your neck, okay?” 

Hank nods. 

You move his head to the other side, feel for the muscles and bones and – 

CRACK!

Hank shouts again, squeezing his eyes shut. “That was louder than the last one.” 

“Does it feel better?” 

He blinks up at the ceiling light and turns his head side to side. “It does.” 

“Good. I’m going to start working on the rest of your body now, okay?” 

“Sure. Fine.” 

You spend the next forty-five minutes poking, prodding, cracking, popping, and aligning. Hank makes a series of progressively grateful noises. When you finally finish the massage down the length of his body, ending with his feet, you look up to see that Hank is asleep. A few tears have slipped out, rolling down his face. He snores softly. 

You quietly clean up your work space, putting all the tools and oils away. Then you gently shake Hank’s shoulder to wake him. He jolts awake and looks up at you, a few more tears slipping down his face. His face flushes pink and he hurries to sit up. 

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” 

“It’s perfectly fine. That means I’m doing a good job. How do you feel?” 

“Great, Honestly. I–” He stops to wipe the tears off his cheeks and blushes deeper. 

“It’s normal to cry or have overwhelming feelings during a chiropractor visit, especially if you’ve been in pain for a long time. Can I have you walk back and forth again? Like you did earlier.” 

Hank follows the directions and doesn’t groan once. 

“Your hips and shoulders are definitely more aligned, and I notice you’re not wincing. How do you feel walking?” 

“I haven’t been able to walk like this in, I dunno, years. Way before that stupid accident.” He twists his torso from side to side, lifts his arms above his head, rolls his head back and forth. “I think you cured me.” 

You laugh. “Hardly. You’ll have to come back for another session or two. But I should’ve gotten you to a place where you can work.” 

Hank actually smiles at you. “I owe you, Doc. You are a doctor, right?” 

“I am. I’m glad that I was able to help you. We can schedule your next session at the front desk.” 

“Okay …” Hank plants his hands on his hips and twists again. “So, Doc … You’re, uh … human, right?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, you’re not a robot, right?”

You laugh. “No, I’m not an android, Lieutenant. Were you expecting one?” 

“Well, you never know. Um, so … when are you free, Doc?” 

You smile and nod toward the door. “The secretary out there will get you set up for your next appointment. I don’t know my bookings off the top of my head.” 

“No, uh …” Hank clears his throat and seems to just notice he’s still shirtless. He blushes all the way down to his chest and yanks his shirt on. “I was wondering if you were free on, I dunno, a weekend or evening.” 

“I don’t work weekends or evenings. Are you worried about having to take time off of work? Since this is part of your workman’s comp claim, you won’t be penalized for coming here during work hours.” 

“Doc?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You sure you ain’t a robot?” 

You laugh in confusion. “Yes. Why?” 

“I dunno. I guess it was pretty obvious that I was trying to ask you out. Unless you knew that and you were trying to pretend you didn’t …” An embarrassed look floods his features. “Forget I said anything. It’s probably not the place, anyway.” 

You bite your tongue and say, “Lieutenant, I promise that I didn’t realize you were asking me out.” 

“And now you do and you want me to leave? I get it, Doc. Wrong place, wrong time.” 

“Well, it is a bit inappropriate for me to go on a date with a client, but if you were to, say, see me on the sidewalk after my shift ends – in about, let’s see, fifteen minutes? – and asked me out, then I can’t see anything wrong with that.” 

Hank stares at you and a small smile begins to spread over his face. “Alright. When and where?” 

“Well, Lieutenant, you know I don’t work weekends or evenings. And as for where … I don’t mind as long as it’s not a cop bar. I fear I’ll run into too many clients there.” 

“Okay, sure. I know a place. Should I pick you up?” 

You point to the door. “You can schedule your next appointment at the front desk. We’ll figure everything else out in …” You check your watch. “Twelve minutes.” 

“Right. Uh … Thanks, Doc. I’ll go schedule that …” 

“I look forward to seeing you again. In a professional capacity, of course.” 

“Of course. I’ll see ya … in about twelve minutes.” 

you clench your eyes shut as your bury your face into his warm, firm chest — trying so hard to keep it all in. but the moment those two words sound from his lips, the dam breaks. you let out a sob, your own shaky arms wrapping around him.

August's heart breaks at each sob as he holds you, not daring to let go. he sinks with you as your knees buckle, carefully lowering you down to your knees as you clutch at the back of his shirt.

he holds you like this for what feels like an eternity, your smaller frame shaking against his large and sturdy frame with each painful sob.

you slowly calm down, your sobs reducing to sniffles as you slouch against him in his arms. "let's get you out of these clothes and into somethin' more comfortable, yeah?" his voice gentle and raspy.

you nod against his chest, clinging to him as he easily lifts you up and into his arms as he carries you to the bathroom. August sits you down on the toilet seat cover, kneeling before you with a grunt as he gently takes off your shoes. he presses occasional kisses to your shins, slowly pulling off your socks and setting the shoes aside along with the socks.

August shuffles around beside you, helping you shrug off your coat, which he lays on top of your shoes. he gets up with groan and the pops of his knees, moving to stand between your knees. his rough hands pull your sweater up and you raise your arms as much as you can muster to aid him. he pulls the sweater over your head and drops with your coat.

next are your jeans — he wraps an arm behind your torso and lifts you up enough to pull them down your hips. he carefully lowers you back down, kneeling down again with the audible protest from his knees to pull your jeans down your thighs. he trails sweet kisses down each inch of newly exposed skin, laying your jeans on top of the pile.

he stands up, not without another groan and crack of his old bones. "c'mon, sweet girl, let's get that makeup off and we're almost done." his voice is low, not wanting to break the peaceful and healing spell that's woven around your two.

you nod and August lifts you up and gently sets you down on the cold marble of the counter. he leans down, ever so sweetly lifting your legs to open a drawer to grab a few of your makeup wipes. he closes the drawer, easing your legs back down.

he opens the pack, a large calloused, yet painfully gentle hand coming up to cup the side of your face. he pulls out a wipe with his other hand and tenderly starts wiping off your makeup. you close your eyes as he swipes at the product on your skin, nuzzling your face into his warm and welcoming palm.

he smiles sadly, his thumb rubbing a few loving figures against your cheekbone before holding the other side of your face. he grabs a new wipe, his thumb rubbing figures into the clean and slightly slippery skin as he wipes of the remainder of the product.

he presses a few more swipes across your skin, dropping the used wipes into the small trash can beside the counter. "there we go, all done." his voice soothes, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders as he pulls you against his chest once more.

you more than happily accept, burying your face against his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist. he sighs sadly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head. "tell me when you're ready to let me in. i'll always be here, however long it takes." your face scrunches up as you nod, a few tears dripping down your cheeks and soaking into his shirt.

he presses one more kiss to the crown of your head before he pulls away. "let's get you into bed and comfortable, yeah?" you nod, sniffling as you try to wipe your tears away. August takes ahold of your hand, in their stead he lovingly and gently wipes away your tears with the comforting pad of his thumb.

he picks you up, his old bones protesting a little as he carries you up the stairs to the bedroom. he slowly lays you down onto the soft blankets, moving away only to pull his own clothes off. he moves to pull the blankets back enough for him to get in, pulling you against him as he lifts the blankets over you.

you let out a shaky yawn as you curl up against August's chest, your soft fingers tiredly dragging across the plain of his skin. he wraps his arms around you, pulling your top leg over his hip as he holds you as close as he can. "i'll stay for as long as you need." he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck, placing a silent kiss of appreciation to his skin.

it seemed impossible the moment you came through the door — but now in August's arms, you feel as though tomorrow, and all the days after don't look so dark anymore

「 authors note,, y'all.. the daddy issues are really peakin through when it comes to this man..... 🤠🥲 anyways, lord knows i needed this fic right now with the week i've been having 🫠🫠. 」