PLEASE DON'T HOLD BACK I WANT THE COWBOY AU INSIDE OF THE COWBOY AU!!!!!!! PLEASE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!
(also can I be 🐇anon if it's not taken???)
You hear the shots before you can stop the duel. You’re just in time to see the dust settle on two bodies as you grip the handle of your kit. Two dead, what a waste. The mortician is already measuring one for a coffin. You sigh and push your hair back, start making your way to help before movement catches your eye. You whip to face the apparently alive deputy, and watch him push himself up to sit, gripping his bloody arm. That you can fix.
You hurry over to him, dropping to your knees to start pulling the needed supplies from your bag. “Almost had me worried, Price,” You tell him, cutting his shirtsleeve at the shoulder seam to yank it down. He hisses, grips his elbow to keep from flinching as you work.
“Can’t even spare me a ‘Deputy’?” He asks, watching you prod at the wound.
“Deputy is for winners,” You dip back into your bag and whistle at the saloon patrons for a stiff one.
“Only you would consider this a loss,” He sighs, reaching for the glass the barkeep brings out. You grab it before he can and dunk your instruments in it. He grimaces, no longer interested in the drink. You hand him a strap of leather to bite as you shake the whiskey off your tweezers.
“You got shot didn’t you?” You tilt your head for a better look at the bullet lodged in his shoulder. Bullets lead to infections. You click your tweezers a few times to warn him before pushing them into the wound. You always hope the pain will be enough to deter any more duels in the future, but Price hardly does more than grunt. He’s got an iron will you suppose.
You pull the bullet free and drop it in his waiting hand, a souvenir. Your fingers feel around the entry point, checking for any bone chips or loose lead. Price lets out a long breath through his nose, exhaling the pain. Seems shallow enough, and you don’t feel anything but the oozing of blood around your fingers. You grab the whiskey glass and tip it over the wound.
“Mmmmmmfuck.” He groans, and you can’t say you blame him, but you need to get some of the blood off. The alcohol works just as well as clean water at washing blood away. Even if the sting of it makes Price’s muscles tense, his breath shaky. You do your best to ignore it while you grab bandages from your bag. “Fuckin’ sawbones.” He grumbles.
“If you don’t want me to hurt you stop getting shot,” You give him a quick raise of your brows. You’re quick with the bandages, it’s better to be quick before the wound bleeds too much.
“Then how’d I see you?” He smiles, and you try not to smile too much in return.
“You could come to the clinic for once,” You tell him, tying off the bandage. His hand moves to rest on your knee, a comfortable weight you know well. He better watch that hand, you still need to get a sling on him.
“God I’d be good to ya’,” Price sighs.
“Yeah?” You tuck your supplies back into your bag and stand, offering a hand to help him up. He grasps your forearm with his uninjured arm and grunts as you haul him to his feet. “How’d you be good to me, when you can barely be good to yourself?” You twist to duck under his arm and wrap it around your shoulder. You think the way he leans against you may be slightly exaggerated as you help him towards your family’s clinic.
“I’d be good to ya’!” Price laughs, “Build ya’ a nice house and all the furniture in it, keep ya’ well stocked with patients.”
“You’d let me keep workin’?” You aren’t going to comment on how happy that makes you. Most men would be more insistent on their partner staying home, popping out kids, you like your work too much to give it up. Probably why you’re still single.
“Can’t deprive the town of their best doctor,” Price huffs out a heavy breath as you sit him down in the front room of the clinic.
“I thought you said I was a sawbones,” You set your bag down and go to dig through the clean clothes for a sling.
“And I’ll let you hold that against me the rest of my life, God I’d be good to ya’,” The way he says it, the explosive admission of it, makes you shake your head fondly. You focus on bending his arm into the sling, trying to keep the pain to a minimum. He grabs you and pulls you down onto his lap when you finish, both of you careful not to bump his arm.
“I think the heat’s gettin’ to ya’ deputy,” You tell him, making yourself comfortable on his lap.
“When’re you gonna say ‘yes’ to me?” He asks, and you wonder if most engagements happen like this. You don’t think so, Price is one of a kind.
“When you win a duel without a new hole to show for it,” You reach to brush some of the dust from outside off his beard, he kisses your fingers as they move over his lips.
“Might take a while then,” he relents, though you know he’s lying. You know better than anyone he’s never this careless when you aren’t on duty. It really is his best excuse to see you. You’re the only one he lets patch him up, and that’s just fine with you.
“Gives you plenty of time to build me a house.” God, you’d be good to him, you already are.
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