#this is his 'first appearance' if we're not counting prescription

[wingedsam]

Started a Power Rangers tabletop campaign with my usual group a couple weeks ago and we had I shit you not like the most perfectly cinematic first session. I'm gonna break it down because it was so very good, I had so much fun. The premise of the campaign so far is we're each a Ranger, we became Rangers after a Final Fantasy summon monster appeared to us when we had a near death experience and offered to make us a Ranger so we could fight and destroy fiends. We each agreed for our own reasons and formed contracts with these beings with the stipulation that we had to hunt down and destroy fiends. None of us know other Ranger's exist. We all think we're the only ones.

Cast: Adelaide - Green Ranger [this is my character] Callie - Yellow Ranger Viktoria - White Ranger Kara - Black Ranger Jun - Blue Ranger Rodger - Red Ranger

So we gotta get the team together. Callie, Viktoria, and Rodger are up first and all happen to meet when responding to a fiend attack in the alleyway outside Callie's apartment. Viktoria and Rodger jump in already suited up, and Callie comes in civilian clothes to offer support. Some discussion and she invites them up to discuss things.

While that's happening Jun is working at his pharmacy job when Kara comes in trying to get a prescription that is not hers filled. They go back and forth until fiends attack inside the pharmacy and Kara just jumps right in transforming without a care to handle them. Jun slips to the back to transform and joins in. They have a stand off after because Jun is not very trusting of her and also mad, but they manage to calm down and Jun shoots out the pharmacy camera to cover for them.

Also meanwhile, Adelaide is walking home from her job and runs into several fiends on her own. Notably they are dancing around one fiend and making it grow bigger. She launches in solo to take them out, but the bigger one explodes and takes out part of the street. With the problem solved and not wanting to get spotted she just powers down and leaves.

Callie, who is a firefighter, gets a hit from her work about two emergencies reported. A fire at a pharmacy and an explosion across town. She gets Viktoria and Rodger to go in suits to check the explosion while responding to the pharmacy herself. She walks in right when Jun [still suited] shoots out the camera. Now we have the connection. Callie gets Jun and Kara to agree to come back to her apartment as well so they can join the discussion.

Viktoria and Rodger head for the explosion, and the dice just refuse to have either of them or Adelaide notice each other. I managed to botch like 3 notice checks to have Adelaide spot either of them and neither of them managed to see her leaving the scene. Even the other three driving back pass Adelaide noticed nothing... so, how do you get the team together?

Rodger and Viktoria see no fiends and a large crater and decide to report back to Callie's place. Well they're faster suited than Adelaide in civilian mode [while also injured from the fight]. Rodger gets back first and says he's gonna go in the open window... and we all make the executive decision that it would be most funny if Adelaide lives in the same apartment building as Callie, a few doors down. So Rodger rolls to remember, and picks the wrong window, ending up in Adelaide's apartment.

Adelaide heads up, enters her apartment, and finds a mysterious individual rummaging through her fridge. Thinking he's a fiend she transforms and attacks him before he notices her. Her spear only diverting from contact when he calls out for her to stop, thinking she might be Callie since he had never seen what suited Callie looks like. They have a quick back and forth before Adelaide spartan kicks him out her window and slams it shut, powering down to go back about her night.

Viktoria sees Rodger come violently back out the window and laughs, then they rush to go back in and find this other Ranger. Viktoria is able to count the windows and find Adelaide's apartment from inside. While they're confronting her, Callie, Jun, and Kara come up and Callie is wondering why they're bothering her neighbor. Adelaide is deadpan as hell so she's able to flatly say no when asked if she was involved with the explosion downtown. Or any Ranger shit. [with a good deception roll]. Rodger jumps in and says she pushed him out the window. She says he broke into her apartment. Callie asks how she got hurt and Adelaide just gives up and says the explosion. They all go into Callie's apartment so Adelaide can get some first aid and they can discuss this whole mess. Only a few minutes in and a mysterious voice speaks in everyone's heads, referring to them as her children and calling herself Mother. Some brief discussion and she realizes the beings everyone made deals with are the energy signature she is sensing and we learn who their names and the nature of their existence in duality with the fiends we've been fighting. The deal is made clear, we fight and destroy fiends, offering their energy to our partner being until they're strong enough to take their original form at which point we'll be free from our contracts and the beings can go back to what they wish. If we cannot kill fiends to offer energy, our energy will be taken instead. We can all handle that. We exchange info and split for the night, which is when we discover that Jun actually also lives in the apartment building a few floors up, he also agreed to let Kara stay with him since she's more of a drifter with no place. Rodger and Viktoria leave for the night. Viktoria is the only one of us to not give her name or power down, so we only know her as White for now.

The next day while going about her business Adelaide passes the crater to find empty cop cars and a bunch of fiends with another big fiend like the one that exploded, except this one is much much bigger. She calls in the others and once everyone is there the whole team gets in on the fight, finishing with Kara getting a cool power moment as the tank where she lifts the big one off the ground, then the rest of us all together launch it high enough in the sky with an attack that the explosion misses the town.

#Power Rangers ttrpg #Power Rangers #tabletop

[obscurecolumbos]

"Lieutenant Columbo’s lost his pen” S1E0 Ransom for a Dead Man, 1971

#columbo #peter falk #lee grant #detective #mystery #murder #crime shows #1970s #70s tv #season 1 #this is his 'first appearance' if we're not counting prescription #first serial appearance at least #happy columbos everybody it's my birthday

[booppooo]

Body Guard: Chapter One

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader Series

(Gif by @pearrls2swine )

AN: heyyy, this is my first Abby fic on Tumblr and I hope you guys like it :) if you wanna read my other stuff check out my Wattpad (username: booppooo).

Summary: After Abby returns with Owen to the stadium, Isaac decides she is fit to safely transfer the top surgeon in Washington to the hospital to collect supplies for an upcoming procedure.

Warnings: hospital setting, intestinal issues, swearing, vomiting, blood, mentions of suicide

Word Count: 3010

-

June 10th, 72 hours remaining

The doctor rolled next to her patient in the small stool.

"Tell me what's going on." her clipboard and pen ready in hand.

The older man grumbled, "Like I told the other nurses, my stomach pains are getting worse, and now I can't keep anything down."

"Getting worse?"

"Yes."

"As in you've been regularly experiencing stomach pain?"

He began to avert the doctors gaze, "I can usually handle it. I'm just worried about the vomiting."

The doctor scribbled down on her clipboard and pressed her lips together. Even if a bystander had stepped into the room, they could detect this man wasn't healthy. She instructed her patient to lay on his back against the bed while she pressed against his skin asking to raise his hand when he felt discomfort.

"I just need a prescription." he spoke through gritted teeth as she continued to examine him.

"I think you're going to need far more than a prescription." she murmured to herself, touching around a particularly tender area.

The man groaned softly and squeezed his eyes shut as she pressed down a few more times. Returning to her clipboard she scribbled some more and excused herself from the room. On her way to her office she gathered the nurses who had also treated him to come to a consensus.

The doctor sighed, "As much as I hate to say this, he definitely has a tumor."

"You didn't need a physical examination to diagnose that, his skin is three shades lighter than normal and he's sweating bullets." a nurse piped in.

The physician chewed the inside of her cheek, brows knit together, "Let's schedule him for a biopsy to see if it's malignant, and let's hope to Hell we're wrong."

She returned to her patient lacking her friendly smile and soft hello. Immediately he knew the odds of the news being positive (or at least semi-positive) were diminishing, and fast.

"So...Isaac," she nervously cleared her throat, "we would like to squeeze you in to preform a biopsy so we can figure out what's going on with you."

His brows pressed together with a scowl, "And if you waste supplies preforming this procedure on me to find I'm healthy-"

"Sir, please..." she rested her hand on his lap, "we may never be able to help you if we can't conduct the biopsy."

He sat on the bed for a moment silently thinking to himself. His scowl began to soften at the woman as he came to terms with the situation. After all, she was the most respected surgeon and physician in Washington, he was in good hands. With a hesitant okay, he agreed to the biopsy and followed through with scheduling his appointment.

"Hey," the doctor rested a hand on the small of his back, "everything's going to be fine."

Isaac nodded, still unsure, "Thank you Y/n."

-

The second Isaac stepped from the hospital wing he was bombarded with soldiers. They rushed to him from different directions breathlessly reporting of the return of a particular soldier - one that had been AWOL for almost two days.

"I want her in my office, now." Isaac demanded before storming off.

Predictably, she took a while to make her appearance, knowing a punishment was in the works. Once she finally accepted her fate she slowly entered his office, eyes on her boots.

Isaac started by clearing his throat to catch her attention, "Did you find Owen?"

She chewed on her lip, nodding.

"Hope it was worth it, because now you'll be spending a few days without him."

Her eyes widened at his statement. She knew this was coming; nonetheless she was still frustrated.

"Okay..." she sighed.

Isaac decided her punishment would be washing all the dishes in the cafeteria for the next week. Although it did seem simple and mindless, it tainted Abby's ego as a solider, stripping her of her skills as a fighter and her preferred atmosphere.

"Yes sir." Abby nodded and slipped from the room before he could do anymore damage.

Once the door clicked shut Isaac fell to his knees and hurled into the closest bin. Vomiting in itself was already uncomfortable: heaving, gasping for air, sweating, etc., but the weight of him potentially possessing a life-threatening issue was a catalyst for his pain and unease. On top of that, the color of his vomit was alarming, seeing as it was mostly blood.

At first he brushed it off seeing as he had endured much worse. The amount of blood that he'd lost in his lifetime was nothing compared to what was in the can, and if there were a real issue, something that would determine his fate without the next twenty-four hours, certainly his body would be doing more than trembling and sweating.

He searched his drawers for some pain-killers and water, but came up short. With the little strength he had in him, the leader got to his feet and shuffled from his office and shamefully returned to the hospital wing.

The first face he encountered was Mel's, "I need some pain killers."

Mel's brows furrowed at his appearance. He was ghostly pale, drenched in sweat and grasping into the counter for dear life.

"Weren't you in here earlier for stomach pain?" Mel shuffled through files.

"If you don't get me some damn Aspirin-!" he groaned out through bared teeth, holding his stomach.

Mel ran to his side and tossed his free arm over her shoulders, calling for nurses and most importantly, Y/n. Once rested onto a bed and checked into a room, Y/n's face appeared before Isaac once again.

"Back so soon?" she teased.

He writhed in pain with his eyes narrowed at her. She compared his chart from earlier that day and noticed a dramatic change in numbers, he was running a horrible fever and his blood pressure was through the roof.

"Looks like we're conducting that biopsy now."

-

It wasn't a surprise to any of the medical staff that Isaac had a tumor, the only important task was to determine if it was killing him. If it was, there was a much bigger situation to assess. A sample of tissue from the tumor was sent to the lab, in the pass time Isaac had returned to consciousness. Luckily, his usual grimace was eased along with his pain with a healthy dose of morphine.

"Afternoon sir," Y/n was at his side with her clipboard.

"Cut the shit, how much time do I have?"

"Hopefully many years, we haven't gotten the tests back yet." she tucked the board under her arm.

Isaac rolled his head away from her view and his signature scowl returned. In that hospital bed he grew angry with himself. He blamed himself for his illness and for not fighting it longer, for looking weak in front of those who work for him. It was humiliating and he had no fight left in him to rip out his IV and rush toward the exit.

Another pair of shoes entered the room, "The results, doctor."

Some papers shuffled and Y/n hummed with the nurse. If the next words out of her mouth were Isaac's predicted time left on Earth, he would be writing a note to Abby and taking a trip from the stadium and not returning. Instead, Y/n and the nurse excused themselves, leaving Isaac's hopes to fade.

-

"The tumor is in your small intestine and can be removed." Y/n explained, the nurses behind her fidgety.

"But?" Isaac pressed, their expressions screamed there was a bigger issue.

"Since you've been vomiting you're severely dehydrated and lack vital nutrients to make it though the surgery. That and we don't have the supplies to conduct the surgery."

"Supplies?" Isaac scoffed weakly, "How complicated is it to remove a damn tumor?"

"We don't have strong enough antibiotics to prevent infection nor precise enough tools."

Y/n's palms began to sweat and her heart pounded in her chest. The news she was breaking to her boss was awful enough to cost her not only her position at the WLF but as a member entirely. One moment she could be testing a cancerous tumor sample and the next she's left for the infected and Scars to eat alive. But there was an odd glint in Isaac's eye that eased her anxiety. Though that unfriendly scowl still tugged at his lips, deep beyond his dark stare Y/n could see the unmistakable terror in his eyes. He thought he had come to terms with his demise, but now that it was real, now that he had a group of professionals saying he wasn't going to make it, he was scared.

"Do we have any options?" his voice was still akin to a growl.

Y/n glanced over her shoulders at her colleagues as if to exchange a message telepathically - an absurd, risky message.

The surgeon took a deep breath and straighten her back, "We could go back to the hospital and search the bottom floors for supplies."

"Take Abby and go, it'll only take a few days."

Y/n wet her lips, unsure of how to further break the news to him besides bluntly.

"You only have two days left to live."

-

June 11th, 48 hours remaining

In Isaac's mind the only logical thing to do was hand over his title and let his remaining hours pan out, however, there was an entire medical staff who were determined to preserve his life at all costs. He was put under intense surveillance to prevent (or catch) any suicide attempts and to monitor his vitals through the next two days.

Y/n's next steps were to find Abby and have her escort Y/n to the hospital as quickly and safely as possible. First she searched the gym, then her bunk, and finally the library, but all spaces were missing a certain blonde. On her way back to the hospital wing she stopped at the cafeteria to grab a quick snack, losing faith with each step.

She stepped past the line awaiting their lunch, all sniffing the aroma of chili and cornbread. A few groaned and shook their fist at the doctor, but they were secondary in her mind.

"Can I just get an banana?"

The server nodded to her and stepped off, revealing more of the kitchen to Y/n's view. She spotted a few members chopping vegetables and others tending to the cooking chili on the stoves, and just a few feet from them was a built woman with a long, golden braid dangling down her back, sloshing around the dirty dishes.

"Abby!" Y/n called out, jumping through the serving window.

Abby turned toward the noise and saw a very familiar face running her direction. It was almost amusing to see her so distressed and out of breath from running just a few feet, but Abby kept her stern expression realizing she was in no position to be chuckling.

The solider had a very interesting dynamic with Y/n. She would visit her (only because Isaac had threatened her if she didn't) for her yearly check ups and for follow ups to smaller injuries. Every time without fail, she would plead Abby to implement rest days into her workout regime and explain to her how she was doing her muscles more harm than good. Then she'd continue with how she needed more sleep and that she needed to talk to the psychiatrist, the list goes on. Abby was always too stubborn to take her advice (medical or not) and dreaded her visits with the physician which more often than not ended with Abby leaving the room the moment Y/n turned her back.

Y/n rested a hand on Abby's strong shoulder to catch her breath, "We - whoo - sorry, we have to go, like now."

Abby pulled a face and brushed Y/n from her shoulder, "I don't think so."

"Listen-" Y/n leaned toward her ear, "Isaac is dead in less than forty-eight hours unless we leave."

Abby kissed her teeth and stepped back. To her, this sounded like a ploy to get her in the hospital wing for some ridiculous check-up. If she had to choose between doing dishes and spending just five minutes with Y/n, she would do dishes. So she picked up another dirtied plate and began to scrub, ignoring the nagging coming from her side.

"Did you even hear what I just said? I told you you're hearings going to get bad using loud guns all the time."

Abby squeezed the remaining water from the sponge and took a deep breath. She rested her wrists on the edge of the sink and slowly turned to Y/n, knowing she was one irritating comment away from snapping.

"If he's in such terrible condition, why don't you grab some soldiers and leave? You don't need me."

"Oh! I'm so glad you thought of that, not once did that cross my mind." Y/n smiled sarcastically.

The soldier's jaw tightened and her grip on the edge of the sink was turning her knuckles white. Now she looked like Isaac, scowling and ready to burst.

Y/n took a step closer to Abby, "He specifically requested you to do this...which could very well be his last request. Bedsides, you aren't his second in command for nothing."

Abby still wasn't convinced. Y/n's argument had a lot of holes and seemed less urgent by the second. If Isaac were really on his death bed, there would be more of an uproar.

But what if he is dying? Abby thought.

The blonde wiped her hands on her shirt and apologized to the kitchen staff for such an abrupt exit. On their way to Y/n's bunk she elaborated on Isaac's current state and how much both their lives (and obviously Isaac's) and the foundation of the WLF was on the line. This mission wasn't life or death; death wasn't an option.

Before starting their journey they stopped by to visit Isaac. When Abby saw the lack of color in his cheeks and his scared, hopeless eyes, the seriousness of the situation hit her.

Y/n scribbled some numbers on a clipboard along with some nearly illegible comments, "How are you feeling Isaac?"

The older man chuckled, "I could be dead tomorrow, how do you think?"

Abby and Y/n shared a brief, somber glance, "Trust me, we're going to make it back here in time."

The doctor patted his leg and tenderly grinned, she was confident she could do the surgery, but not that she would return to do it.

"Before you go," Isaac motioned Abby closer to him, "I don't want the rest of the base knowing of this. This stays between us and the medical staff, I can't let word get out I'm dying."

Abby stuttered, "We could be back here tonight if we told them, we'd get everything we'd need quicker than usual."

Isaac's face twisted with anger, "I said keep your mouth shut."

Both Y/n's and Abby's jaws snapped shut at his command. The last thing he needed was to be stressed and for said stress to be inflicted by the two he trusted most. The women left the room with a nod and passed the word to the staff about how critical it was to keep his whereabouts silent. If things went according to plan, there wouldn't be time for suspicions to arise, and Isaac would be walking out of the hospital wing tumor-free.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader

[isamijoo]

Accident

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'star-crossed', which means 'thwarted by bad luck'. Word count: 1111. Rating: General. Features Quidditch Player Harry, while Draco is a chemist/potioneer/pharmacist at St Mungo's. Warning tags: Physical / Quidditch Injuries. Set at Emergency/ER Department.

This is actually part of something longer I wrote for H/D Owlpost that I abandoned to write something else. But I liked this first scene so I'm sharing it. Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. Please enjoy!

///

The last sensation Harry remembered before he blacked out was the flutter of the snitch's wings against his fingers and the feel of the golden sphere in his fist.

He realised later, upon waking up on a hospital bed surrounded by teal curtains, that in his desperate haste to catch the snitch, he had overreached and fallen off his Firebolt 360.

Everything was too bright even before he opened his eyes. He turned his head to the side with a groan. He raised a hand to cover his face, but the motion caused a sharp pain to shoot from his left shoulder.

His yelp of pain attracted the attention of the medical staff. A mediwitch shoved the curtain aside and hurried to his side.

"Please don't move, Mr Potter," she implored. Her face came into focus when she peered at Harry, who realised that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. "Can you tell me where it hurts?"

It wasn't just his shoulder. He was hurting everywhere. Unable to give a verbal response, Harry shook his head.

The witch frowned. "You need potions. Please wait here for a moment. Don't move," she repeated before backing out, leaving the curtain open.

The curtain must have been laced with Noise-Repelling Charm; it had been quiet when Harry first gained consciousness but now, with the curtain pulled back, Harry's head hurt from the loud noises.

He tried to distract himself from the pain by thinking about the match. He was sure his team had won the game. His team's score was ahead of the opponent's when he first located the snitch and dove straight for it. He had a reason to finish the game as soon as possible. Harry had something very important tonight.

Speaking of that, what time was it?

He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform. He found his wand in its usual spot (in a holster strapped to his thigh) and cast a Tempus. It was half-past five o'clock. Good. Good. Now he just needed to get home and get ready before seven—

"Mr Malfoy!" the earlier Mediwitch's voice exclaimed from outside the curtain, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Thank goodness you're here. That patient has been prescribed with Skele-Repair and painkillers. We're short-handed at the moment. Could you please—"

"Thank you, Laila. I have the prescription right here," the voice that often featured in Harry's dreams replied. "Let me handle it."

Draco Malfoy pushed back the curtain and sauntered in, carrying a leather satchel and a clipboard. Harry couldn't see his face clearly, but he recognised that shade of blond hair and stiff posture anywhere.

Harry tried to sit up but stopped when Malfoy snapped at him, "Don’t move!”

Harry could only stare at the ceiling as the blond drew the curtain, cutting off the noise. Malfoy’s blurry figure moved to the bedside table near the head of Harry’s bed. There was a clattering sound of glass bottles clinking together.

Then Malfoy leaned over him and pushed his glasses onto his face. Harry’s senses were assaulted by the musky scent of Malfoy as he blinked to adjust his vision.

Now he could stare at Malfoy properly. The blond's grey eyes were glaring at him, pink lips twisted in exasperation. The harsh light made his hair appear white, and his yellowish green robes took on an unsightly hue.

“I’m amazed you're still in possession of all your limbs,” Malfoy huffed, reaching into his satchel. He worked as he talked, placing a ceramic cup and a couple of multicoloured vials onto the bedside table. He emptied the vials into the cup and stirred the concoction with a glass rod. “A fifty-meter drop! A concussion! Soft tissue injuries all over! At least five closed nondisplaced fractures!”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes before casting a spell at the cup. Nodding at the results, he took another small vial from a pocket of his robes. “Painkiller Potion,” he clarified, holding a dropper that contains pink liquid above Harry’s lips. “Open up.”

Harry obeyed, gulping when the potion slid down his throat. Within several seconds, the pain all over his body diminished down to a more tolerable level. He attempted to sit up again, but Malfoy’s hand on his chest pinned him in place.

“Shh, slowly,” Malfoy murmured. He slipped a hand under Harry’s head and held him as Harry drank the potion from the ceramic cup. The brew cooled Harry’s throat and sent a numbing chill throughout his body.

“Better?” Malfoy extracted his hand and put the cup away. He returned to Harry’s side and sat on the mattress, the tension gone from his shoulders now that Harry had taken his potion.

“Yeah, thank you,” Harry said, finally able to sit up and look at Malfoy at the same eye level. “I thought your shift ended at five?”

“It did.” Malfoy shrugged. “But then I heard Harry Potter is at casualty after falling off his broom during a Quidditch game,” — he narrowed his eyes at Harry when he said all this— “and I know my expertise is needed.”

“Thank you,” Harry said again, smiling as he reached for Malfoy’s hand. “You know, there’s still time. If we leave now—”

Malfoy squeezed Harry’s fingers before letting go. “Forget it, Potter. You were injured. And you just finished a game. Get some rest.”

“But.” Harry’s body stiffened in protest. “But I’m really serious about going on a date with you tonight. I even caught the snitch today in record time.”

The corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched as though stifling a smile. “Congratulations.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged. “Are you angry with me?”

Malfoy hesitated for a moment. “I may have been looking forward to our date as well,” he admitted, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I should have known something would go wrong.”

“Hey, I didn’t want this to happen.” Harry pouted, affronted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?

“Perhaps you can tell me next time,” Malfoy said before standing up. “Let’s cancel tonight, Potter. Go home and rest.” He pulled out a piece of parchment from his satchel and handed it to Harry.

“What’s this?” Harry studied the parchment, which had rows of names and columns with dates for the entire month. Malfoy’s name had been circled with red ink.

“My work roster. So you’ll know when I’ll be free,” said Malfoy. “For a date.”

Harry could only grin at Malfoy before his teammates made an appearance. Amidst the greetings and back-slapping and cheers, Malfoy disappeared past the curtains. But with the other wizard's roster folded neatly in his hands, Harry was assured that he would see Malfoy again.

#isamijoo #drarry fic #draco x harry #drarry #quidditch injuries #quidditch player harry potter #drarrymicrofic #physical injuries

[straightupsickfics]

10 + 19 for anyone? Long drives through autumnal scenes are so cute to me, and adding a character with a cold?!? the best🥺😌

ahhhhhh a stevetony road trip from the compound back to the city when steve is sick after a mission perhaps? 🥺

****

Steve's at the Compound, waiting for a prescription from Medical when he hears the warm, familiar sound of Tony's voice echoing down the hallway. At first, Steve can't even be sure he's not dreaming it, that's how out of it he feels. His head and sinuses are so stuffed up, his whole body run down and exhausted enough that all he's been able to think about this afternoon is being home and in bed with Tony curled up beside him.

Tony, who should be hours away, in the city, running through the last of his meetings. Tony, who, it seems, is here, making friendly small talk with Sam somewhere outside the door to the in-house pharmacy. It'd been a long two weeks.

"There you are," Tony says, appearing at his side and dropping down beside Steve in one of the too-stiff waiting room chairs. "Wilson said you were sick, but you look..." He trails off, taking in what Steve knows are tired eyes, a face gone pale and drawn with exhaustion, his nose chapped and rubbed raw with the cold he's been dealing with these last few days.

There'd been the mission to worry about, though, getting everyone out and home safely had been his first and only priority at first. His sore throat, persistently ticklish nose, the annoying coughing, they could all be pushed to the back of his mind, at least until he knew for sure that everyone was okay.

And now, finally, they were. Everyone would be just fine, and that's what counted.

But now Steve's here, in medical, waiting for prescription cough medicine, a refill for his inhaler, and super-soldier strength cold medicine. Steve can't say he relishes the idea of all the medicine and fussing that's no doubt waiting for him, but he feels something light up inside him at the sight and sound of Tony beside him.

"Tony?" Steve says, though it's clear he's here, upstate instead of in the city, somehow, impossibly, here.

"Steven," Tony says in reply, smiling at him before he leans over and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "You look like you've seen better days, sweetheart."

Steve just nods, knowing full well what he looks like, and is filled all at once with gratitude to Sam, because of course it was Sam who called Tony, let him know how bad Steve's been feeling, and of course Tony hadn't wasted any time driving up here, ready to bring him home.

"Got this," Tony says, holding up a brown paper bag, "from the lovely lady behind the counter. So we're all good here if you want to head home. Your chariot awaits," he says, winking.

"Home sounds good," Steve nods, his voice sounding congested and raspy even to his own ears, and he watches as Tony winces at the sound of it.

"There are tissues in the car," Tony tells him, because of course there are, he's always prepared, after all, and when Tony stands up and offers Steve a hand, he wastes no time taking it, leaning into the warmth of him and wrapping his arms around Tony for a long overdue hug.

Tony just holds him tightly, lets Steve bury his face into the warm skin between his neck and his shoulder, muttering something about not letting him out of his sight for the foreseeable future, which, for once, sounds perfectly all right with Steve.

"Tired," Steve mumbles into the collar of Tony's shirt, yawning as he pulls away, then wincing when the yawn quickly turns into a coughing fit. His throat would be killing him for the duration of the drive home, he knows.

"You can sleep in the car," Tony promises, shouldering Steve's duffel bag and taking Steve's hand in his before leading him to the Audi waiting for them outside.

It's chilly outside, dismal and gray after nearly two weeks of rain, but Tony puts the heat on full blast when he sees Steve shiver in the passenger seat, and passes him a sweatshirt from the back seat.

"Here," Tony offers, holding it out to him. "Wore this on the way up, but I think you could use it more than me at this point. You want to start on the medicine now or when we get home?"

Steve yawns again, scrubbing at his nose, too stuffy now for blowing it to be much of an option, and shrugs. "Hmb... maybe when we get home?" He yanks the hoodie over his head and settles into the warmth of it, the way he knows, even without being able to smell it himself, that it smells like Tony's citrus-y detergent.

"Home it is," Tony agrees, leaning over and giving Steve's knee a soft, affectionate squeeze and he peels out of the parking lot and heads for the highway. Steve lets himself relish in the warmth of the car, of Tony's hand on his leg, of the promise of home, and tries his best to stay awake as they make their way onto the highway.

*

An hour into their drive, Tony's regaling Steve with stories about DUM-e and U, about the board meetings he's been in while Steve was on his mission, and the sound of his voice is so comforting that Steve's eyes start to feel heavier than ever.

"There's a rest stop coming up in ten," Tony says finally, gesturing to a sign at the side of the road. "You need anything? Tea? Tissues? Some other t-word for sick people?" Tony jokes.

Steve gives him a watery smile, though his nose is starting to feel more runny than stuffy thanks to the heat of the car, and he scrubs at it uncertainly. "Th-hh! IIHH! Think I'mb..." Steve stops mid-sentence as his breath catches, and he can feel Tony's eyes on him.

"Steve you don't have to—"

But Steve's eyes are already falling shut, his face crumpling as his nose gives a final twitch right at the edges, and he ducks his face away and into his elbow.

“uhhh… uttsch'uhhSHiiieww!” The fabric of Tony's sweatshirt is soft against the nose after a weekend spend rubbing it into rough, HYRDA-issue tissues, but he makes a silent promise to himself to wash it when they get home.

"God bless you," Tony says, and pulls into the rest stop without another word. "I'm just gonna run in and grab a coffee, alright? You wait here," he says, pulling into a spot and kissing Steve's cheek again before heading inside.

Steve only nods, happy to wait in the warm car, and maybe even try and blow his nose while Tony's inside. It feels like every one of his cold symptoms is hitting him all at once, and all Steve wants is to finally, finally be home, in the familiar comfort of their bed and shower and the dozens of blankets he knows Tony will have waiting for him when they get there.

By the time Tony gets back to the car, Steve's still snuffling into his tissues half-heartedly. His head feels like it's been packed with cotton by now, and with the heat and the gentle movement of the car, he feels dangerously close to falling asleep while they drive.

"Grabbed you some peppermint tea," Tony says, sliding back into his seat and passing Steve a blissfully warm Starbucks cup.

"Thangks," Steve says, sniffling as he takes a careful sip. The steam rising from the lid makes his nose run even more, and he sniffles a few more times as they get back on the road.

"Here, sniffles," Tony says after a few minutes, passing Steve a box of tissues.

Steve takes them gratefully, smiling slightly and scrubbing at his nose. He's going to sneeze soon, he can tell, it's just... there, out of reach for now, and he tries to focus on Tony enough to take his mind off of the frustrating feeling.

"I come prepared," Tony says. "Any requests?" He gestures to the radio, but Steve just shakes his head. He can't appreciate the music with how tired and congested he is; everything sounds like he's listening to it from under water.

"Anything's good," Steve says. "I'mb hardly listend'ing," he sighs. His consonants are dulling by the minute, it seems, and he scrubs at his nose again, frustrated with himself. Just as Tony decides on an album, something Steve recognizes but can't place, his sinuses give a twinge, and he gives Tony a small wave of warning as he brings a handful of tissues back up over his nose and mouth.

“hh! HetCHISShheew! Snf! Oh... I'mb... s-sorry. hehh! Het-chisshh! Tsschiew!"

It takes Steve a few minutes of blowing his nose and wiping his eyes before he blinks up and over at Tony again, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

"I'mb a mbess," he sighs.

"Just looking at you is making me tired, sweetheart," Tony says. "Bless you. It won't be long before we're home now, then you can get in bed. I won't even go down to the lab first," Tony promises. "Straight into the shower and bed with you."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, hears the needy edge his voice has to it now, but he's so relieved to be close to home that he can't bring himself to care.

"Promise, Steven. It's been too long. Even DUM-e missed you this time."

"High praise," Steve says.

"Sure is," Tony nods, smiling. "Close your eyes," he encourages. "We'll be there soon, I'll wake you up when we get home."

Steve wants to protest, wants to keep listening to Tony talk and hum along to the music, but as they settle into the drive and the warmth and the promise of home, Steve can't help but let his eyes finally fall shut, content with Tony beside him.

#anonymous #my fic #steve//tony

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter five

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3436

I'm bad at writing descriptions, so this is basically a reader insert into The First Avenger and then we'll see how it goes from there.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of blood

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Masterlist

I hadn't seen Steve since the talk with Dr. Erskine yesterday afternoon. I knew that after the conversation we all had, he would know what he was meant to do. He would go into this with no questions whatsoever, just the knowledge that he would be able to help out with the war. I on the other hand was worried to death. That night I got less sleep than I ever had. I tossed and turned, but could never get comfortable. There's just something about knowing you and your brother are going to be test subjects for an experiment that hasn't had the best track record, that puts you on edge.

I did everything to try and go to sleep, but none of it helped in the slightest. When I laid there, in the dark, facing the ceiling, I thought of what life would have been like if this God-forsaken war hadn't started. Thoughts of a wedding crossed my mind. Steve walked me down the aisle towards the love of my life. If we hadn't been drugged into this war I could have been married by now, I could have started a family, I could be enjoying the rest of my life with Bucky by my side. But life never goes as planned and now Buck is thousands of miles away and I’m being experimented on.

Not just thoughts of a domestic life flew around in my head, I also thought of how this serum would affect Steve and me I. Helping to work on this experiment was one thing, being a part of it was another. All I had done for the last few years was help gather information for the doctors and scientists. I scouted recruits, I spied on copious amounts of HYDRA workers, I was a behind the scene worker, never in the spotlight of the actual experimental side. Now all that had changed and I would be participating in something I wasn’t really sure I wanted. There was no knowing what this would do to me, what the long-term and short-term effects might be, but I was willing to go through this as long as my brother was beside me. I couldn't just let him do it alone, even if this probably wasn't what I wanted for myself. From before I could remember Steve was always there with me, walking right alongside me through my battles, and I’d be damned if I didn't walk into this battle with him.

In the early morning hours, when the first birds started to chirp and the sun had barely shown itself to the world, I fell asleep, only to be awakened two hours later. The day had just begun and I already wanted to go back to sleep, I could feel the anxiety creeping back in. Without a good night's rest, I was useless. The procedure was scheduled for nine this morning and I had to be at the lab in an hour. I quickly got ready and headed out the door. When I walked down onto the street I noticed a car a few yards away from me. Peggy stepped out of the back and waved me over.

“Good morning, Agent Carter,” I called as I walked over to where she stood. I looked into the back seat and noticed Steve was sitting on the other side of the car. He looked at me and gave me a small wave. “You didn’t have to come pick me up, the lab is only two blocks away, I could have walked there.”

“Don't worry about it Rogers, It was your brother's idea to come get you. He said something about anxiety and operations. Said it would be best to come get you so he could help ease the nerves.” She said before she ushered me into the back seat and closed the door. She then walked around the car and got into the passenger seat.

“Morning shortly, don’t you look chipper this morning,” Steve stated as I slumped in the seat.

I slowly looked over at him and groaned out “I can’t believe you told her I get anxious about operations and needed your help to calm down.”

“Oh you know you need me, I can tell you only got a few hours of sleep. I bet you were up all night tossing and turning,” he stated matter of factly. He grabbed my right arm and pulled me over to him so he could give me a hug. I laid my head on his shoulder and watched as the car made its way down the block. “You’ve always needed someone to help you get over the anxiousness before any type of medical type thing. Now just sit here and calm down, I can hear how fast your heart is going.”

He wasn’t lying, any medical thing I have ever gone to has made me stressed out. Even just going into the doctor's office to get a prescription filled me with enough anxiety to explode. I could feel my heart beating a mile a minute the closer we got to the building the lab was in. Having Steve with me was easing it to a bearable amount but I still felt nauseous. When the car stopped outside of an old antique store we all got out and walked into the shop. I barely noticed Peggy reciting the code phrase to the woman at the front, then we were on our way to the back and going through a set of hidden doors. I grabbed Steve's hand and held onto it so tightly that I’m sure he could feel my pulse throbbing in my fingers. We made our way past several MPs to the observing deck of the lab and looked down at the several scientists in the room. They all spotted us quickly and came to a stop. I looked over at Steve and he looked at me, a quick glint of concern flashed over his face. I then looked to Peggy and she gave a stiff nod and started to descend the set of stairs to her right and Steve and I followed.

We three made our way to the platform in the middle of the room where Dr. Erskine met us. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully while he shook Steve’s hand and then mine. “Are you both ready?” I nodded my head nervously while eyeing the two large equipment pieces that were side by side. I winced as a sudden flash went off. A man, standing off to the side, had taken a picture of the encounter. Dr. Ersikne has shooed him off as soon as he had, telling him not to do that now. “Well, if you are both ready I will need you two to take your shoes, tie, and shirts off. Mr. Rogers, please take your cap off as well. Agent Rogers, I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, we need to be able to access your biceps and the top of your chest.”

I slowly started to take my shoes off, then moved onto my tie and then my blazer and blouse. All I could think of at the moment was that this was all happening way too fast. The nervousness and anxiety I felt heavily outweigh the embarrassment I should have felt, being in a large room surrounded by men in only my bra and a pair of trousers. I was then told to then lay down on one of the machines in the center of the room.

“Agent Rogers, These are just some questions I have to ask before we get started,” said a nurse who had appeared next to me with a clipboard. “Is your date of birth August 3, 1921?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last 12 hours?”

“No, I have not”

“Okay then, we're good to go. I’ll just give you a shot of penicillin and then Dr. Erskine will come and start the procedure. As I laid there all I could hear was my heart beating in my ears. I watched as another nurse came to me and brought down two metal arms with rectangular pads attached to the end. They went right to the top of my chest and felt cold against my exposed skin. More nurses walked around me and starters putting vials of blue liquid into slots in the machine.

Dr. Erskine then appeared between Steve and me. Nodding at both of us he started the count down to the serum infusion. I saw another two rectangular pads come down towards my upper arms. I winced as I felt the needles on the pads insert into my arm. When the count down reached one I felt the serum being pushed into me through the rectangular pads. I gasped loudly, it was an unexplainable pain, Ilke fire was surging throughout my entire body. Then the machine started to rise and three panels with lots of lights came up and closed around me. I was taking deep breaths in order to not hyperventilate. Then came a tap on the glass that was right in front of my head. “Agent Rogers, are you ready?” Dr. Erskine called.

“As ready as I can be” I called back. He walked away from the glass and then the machine started to make a low rumbling sound. I closed my eyes and balled my hands uptight. The lights on the panels started to glow brighter and brighter through my eyelids. Soon the lights began to emit heat. I could feel it growing hotter and hotter until finally, I couldn't keep the feeling of the pain inside anymore. I felt my throat scratch as I let out a scream. The heat kept intensifying but I held on.

I could hear yelling from outside the machine. “Turn it off! Turn it off! Shut it down now!” someone was yelling.

I had come so far I couldn’t stop now. “No,” I yelled, “I can do it. Keep it on!” The light then became so bright it was like my eyes weren't even close like I was staring at the sun. The rumbling in my ears became overwhelming and I let out another scream. Suddenly everything went dark and the heat was gone. My breathing became labored and I let my body relax back onto the cushion behind me. The panels retracted and a gust of cold air surrounded me.

I could hear a ringing in my ears as I weakly stepped out of the machine. A few nurses and scientists caught me before my legs gave out. “Did we do it?” I stuttered out.

“I think we did. How are you feeling?” asked Dr. Erskine while handing me a shirt.

“Sweaty. Where’s Steve?” I looked around for him but the room started to fill with more people. Out of nowhere a loud bang when off and glass shot everywhere. I fell to the ground and heard gunshots ring out. Looking up I saw Dr. Erskine fall to the ground. I scrambled over to him and noticed another person bend down across from me on his opposite side. It was Steve, albeit he was a taller and more muscular Steve. I quickly refocused on the Doctor in my arms. He was struggling to breathe and as he took his last breath he pointed to Steve's heart and then went limp. I looked back up to Steve and watched as his face contorted in anger. He shot up from his squatted-down position and took off up the stairs and into the hallway. I followed suit yelling his name.

I reached the front door to the antique shop right as Steve tackled Peggy to the ground to save her from a cab almost running over her. “I had him,” she yelled at him.

“Sorry,” He called back. He started to run in the direction the cab had gone and I took off right behind him. Running down the street, I had noticed that I was running faster than I could before, I was catching up to Steve and the cab.

I saw the cab start to turn and I yelled out to Steve. “Steve, he's headed for the docks!” I kept running and took a sharp turn down the next alleyway. I hoped I would catch them before they go too far. After running straight to the docks I spotted the cab, with Steve hanging off the side of the door, hit a truck, and started rolling down the street sideways. I ran to where Steve had fallen when he let go of the door. I helped him to his feet while eyeing the man who emerged from the wrecked cab. He pulled a gun and shot at both of us before running onto pier 13. Steve grabbed the broken off door from the cab and averted to follow the gunman when he shot at us again. The man grabbed a nearby child and put the gun to his head.

“Get back” he yelled, “get back or I’ll shoot him.” He dragged the kid over to a small ally. I could hear the kid yelling to the man to let him go. Steve started to go after him, but before he could, I stopped him.

“Steve we have to think carefully about this. We can't go in blind, he might hurt the boy.”

“You're right. You go around the back and I’ll take him from the front. I’ll draw the fire and you get the kid.” I gave a quick nod and scurried off to the back entrance of the building. I snuck around the corners to keep from being seen and soon found myself behind the man and child. Steve rounded the corner and the man put the gun back to the boy's head. “Stop, don’t do it,” Steve called. The man then pointed the gun at Steve and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened, He was all out of bullets. In what was a last-ditch effort he tossed the boy over the side of the dock and into the water. I quickly dove in after him.

Coming up out of the water I spotted the boy treading water close to the wall. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, spitting out water. Steve then ran over to look over into the water at us, the boy waved him on. “Go get him, I can swim,” he called up at him. I gave Steve a look and he sprinted off after the gunman.

“Come on kid, let's get you out of here.” I swam over towards him and led us to one of the recessed wall ladders. I helped him climb up the steep wall and when we both made it onto the solid ground I helped him ring out his clothes. “Go on and find your mother, I have to go help stop that man.” He quickly ran off and I turned to sprint down the pier to find Steve.

I couldn’t find either Steve or the gunman when I made it to the end of the dock. I knew they had gone into the water, there was no other way off. I watched the water waiting to see signs of either of them. Then unexpectedly the gunman was thrown out of the water and at my feet. I bent down quickly and grand at the lapels of his jacket, knocking the vile of serum from his pocket. Steve climbed out of the water and came to my side. “Who the hell are you?” he yelled at the man.

The gunman responded with “The first of many. Cut off one head and two more will take its place. Hail Hydra.” After he promptly bit down on a cyanide pill and died. I looked to Steve with a shocked expression.

“Shit. This isn’t good,” I mumbled.

After the whole chase, Steve and I were brought back to the lab. Blood work had to be done. Since all the serum, with the exception of the vile the gunman had stolen, had been used on the two of us, the only way to recreate the serum and possibly keep project rebirth going was in our blood. Peggy explained all of this to Steve as they finished drawing several vile of his blood.

“He deserved more than this,” commented Steve. Peggy looked to him with soft eyes.

“He’d be proud that you're the one it worked on, he’d be proud of both of you,” She affirmed.

“Thanks, Peg,” I said as I lifted myself up off the cot and headed to the door. She and Steve followed. We made our way to the bottom floor where Howard Stark was working on the small submarine the gunman used to try and escape. Colonel Phillips stood a few feet away from him with Senator Brandt. I overheard them talking of Hydra, but before I could explain to the senator who they were, Peggy beat me to it.

Colonel Phillips turned to us, “I have word that the SSR is being retasked. Pack your bags Agent Carter, Agent Rogers, You too Stark. We will be flying out to London tonight.”

“Sir?” Steve called out. “If you’re going after hydra, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment Rogers, you’re being sent to Alamogordo.” The Coronel asserted.

“But Coronel the serum worked, I can help.”

“Son, I asked for an army and all I got was you and your sister. You both aren't enough, at least Agent Rogers was on this team before the experiment happened.” the Colonel started to walk away again, but stopped when I called out to him.

“With all due respect Sir. I refuse to go anywhere without Steve. Either I go with him or he comes with me. I won't take no for an answer Sir.” The look he gave me could have killed but I couldn't care less.

“Agent Rogers, You better be on that plane by the time it takes off or you can kiss this job goodbye. Rogers can’t come with you either, I won't allow it.” He commanded and stormed out of the room.

The Senator spoke up then. “I think the Coronel here is missing the point. I've seen you in action, Steve. The country has seen it too. See here,” He hands Steve a newspaper, “The enlistment lines have been around the block since you came out in the paper. The people need a symbol, and you don't put a symbol in a lab.” He took Steve by the arm and led him off a few feet, but I could still hear him. “Would you like to serve your country on the most important battlefield of all?”

“Sir, that's all I have ever wanted to do,” Steve says.

“Well then son, you’ve just been promoted.” Said the Senator as he shook Steve's hand. I could already tell this wasn’t going to go the way Steve thought it would.

“Steve, Come here a second,” I called and walked over to a secluded corner of the room. I waited for him to come to me. “Steve, he's not going to give you the fight you want to be a part of. I wouldn’t take his offer,” I warned.

“It’s okay, I want to be a part of this fight in any way I can. You shouldn’t stay behind because of me. You have important work you need to do, go with the Coronel and Agent Carter.” Steve said, almost sounding like he was begging me to go with them.

“I said I wasn’t going without you. I don’t want you to do this alone, we’ve always had each other, why stop now?”

“Kid, I know you want to be here with me, to give me your support, but you have an important job. People are relying on you, you can't just do that job because of me. I’ll be fine, look at me, I’m not some sickly kid from Brooklyn anymore.”

“You know, I hate when you’re right.” I crossed my arms and huffed. “Fine, I’ll go with them, just know I will not enjoy a moment of this.”

“Thank you.” he pulled me into a strong hug.

“One more thing. How come you got taller and really buff? I just got more defined muscles, that's not fair.” I complained and he just laughed and shook his head.

“Go pack your bags kid, I'll see you soon.” He gave me a small push towards the door and just like that I was off to the war front.

Taglist: @underc0vercryptid-reads

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[emachinescat]

Title: Of Concussions and Incorrigible Cons | Fandom: Psych

Summary: AU of the pilot episode. After being reprimanded by the interim chief, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter bites off more than he can possibly chew after attempting to apologize to a concussed Spencer for the less than gentle arrest at the end of the McCallum case. Spoilers for "Domestic Pilot." Part 1 of my whumpy episodic AU series, "AU that Glitters."

Words: 1,951

TW: None

AO3 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Episode AU: s01e01: Domestic Pilot, Whump

Year Published: 2017

Full story here or on AO3!

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter stood in front of the interim chief's door, fist poised to knock and foot tapping an anxious rhythm on the floor. Vick had been rather short with him when she'd asked him to come to her office as soon as the paperwork for the McCallum case had been taken care of. It wasn't the "I'm busy, so make it quick" kind of short, either… she was agitated about something.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

Her voice rang out from inside, dead serious as could be. Yeah, she was pissed about something.

He entered, and opted for the ignorant approach, which was just as well, because he really had no idea what this was about. After all, he'd already been given a stern-talking to about inter-department romance and Lucinda was in the process of being transferred. A little swell of fury rose at the thought of the man – the so-called "psychic" who had so carelessly ruined one of the only positive things he had going for him.

"Detective Lassiter. Please sit."

He sat stiffly in the proffered chair, refusing to let the cushy trappings lull him into a false sense of security. He maintained eye contact with the chief, letting her know that he was completely comfortable in the situation that he found himself in, and that he had nothing to hide. Never mind the fact that he wasn't all that comfortable with the cloak and dagger business, being left in the dark about why he was here in the first place. "Chief. What can I do for you?"

Vick's eyes may have softened the tiniest bit at his cordial greeting, but she still did not look like a happy camper.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Detective," she said bluntly. "This could have turned out much worse. As it is, I am going to have to give you an informal reprimand and warn you to be very careful in the future."

Lassiter blinked. "Uh, Chief… What…?"

"Detective, you cannot be physically aggressive toward civilians who are in your custody, unless they are resisting arrest or are posing a threat to you or others around you."

Still trying to work through the confusion, Lassiter was both offended and relieved that there had been a mistake like this, that Vick actually thought that he'd attack a non-resisting civilian. Whatever she'd heard, it was all a big mix up. "Chief, let me assure you that I would never—"

"Shawn Spencer. McCallum residence. Yesterday afternoon. Ring any bells?"

Lassiter blanched. "Spencer hardly counts as a civilian. He's a hindrance to real police work, a distraction, and at the time, he was trespassing. I had to take him in." He left the bitter, At least, until he solved my damn case, left unspoken.

"Be that as it may, Detective, your shoving him head-first into the frame of the car was a bit overboard, don't you think?"

Wait, this was what this was about? Seriously?

"He was resisting arrest, Chief. He was… flailing and pretending to have 'visions' and acting like a crazy person!"

A delicate but ferocious eyebrow lifted. "Not when you shoved him into the car. And may I remind you, he did solve the case?"

"Did he tell you this? That little…"

"Detective!" the chief cut him off before he could say anything to get himself into any more trouble, which, although he didn't appreciate at the time, he was begrudgingly thankful for after the fact. "Mr. Spencer didn't tell me anything. I was there, remember? I saw the whole thing… whatever it was."

Oh. Right. Damn that Spencer for getting into his head like this!

"He's fine, Chief," Lassiter responded, much more calmly this time. "Don't let him take advantage of you. This country is crawling with people faking injuries just to get a few thousand dollars from a lawsuit."

"I told you, Mr. Spencer said nothing to me. His father, on the other hand, called me this morning in a rage. Thankfully, I was able to calm him down and help him to see reason, but it wasn't easy."

"So he went and told his daddy that he got a boo-boo at the crime scene?" Lassiter couldn't keep the disgusted contempt out of his voice this time. "I thought they hated each other, anyway?"

"They have a… complicated relationship, and it really isn't our place to bring that under speculation. However…" She sighed. "It is my job to make sure that my officers are not allowing their emotions or anger, no matter how warranted said anger might be, to get the better of them. Especially after what Henry told me this morning. Apparently, Mr. Guster had to take Shawn to the emergency room last night after his headache peaked and he lost consciousness briefly. Mr. Spencer is being treated for a concussion, Detective, and that is why we're having this talk."

"Oh." Lassiter wasn't sure what to say beyond that, but he slapped away the little niggle of guilt that tried to burrow into him at the news. He hadn't meant to hurt Spencer, certainly not that badly. The man was being difficult, had lost Lassiter his girlfriend, his respect… had mocked him by acting like an idiot and still managing to solve the case first…

"Shawn himself is not going to press charges or file a report, though I was obligated to contact him about the matter. He said – and these are his words – that 'Mr. Grumpy Detective-Face is emotionally stunted and is just trying to express how much he likes me in the only way he knows how.'" Vick looked marginally amused as she read Spencer's response off the sheet in front of her. A muscle in Lassiter's neck twitched. "Now, those exact words could be because of the concussion…"

Lassiter fought the urge to roll his eyes. "They're not, Chief. Trust me."

Now appearing to be fighting a smile, the chief said, "Consider this your unofficial reprimand and warning to control your irritation when you are faced with a particularly difficult witness… or consultant. Because once he is feeling better, I do believe the department will be calling on Mr. Spencer again."

This time, Lassiter couldn't stop the eye roll. Or the groan. Vick smiled. "You're dismissed, Detective."

"Yes, ma—uh, I mean, Chief."

***

Shawn was woken when the doorbell rang, the sound slicing through his aching head like a butter knife through steak... or however that saying went. Without bothering to get up from where he was sprawled on the couch, he called out, "It's open."

Damn, concussions sucked. It was bad enough that Gus had practically dragged him to the hospital after he'd had some sort of dizzy spell last night, but then he'd called his dad to boot? Was this now Gus with his mom for additional parental torture? Not that he would mind seeing his mom… but he was so over worried hovering. Gus played the part of a worried mother exceptionally well, and Shawn couldn't handle two of them… Which was made irrelevant when the door opened to reveal not his mother, but…

"Detective Lassiter?"

Lassiter stepped into Shawn's apartment, keen blue eyes taking the coffee table littered with empty pudding cups, icepacks, water bottles, and prescription bottles. "You just leave your front door unlocked for anyone to come waltzing in? You're just begging to be robbed." Upon taking another look around at the untidy living space, his lip curled and he added, "Or maybe not."

Shawn struggled to sit up past the monkey playing cymbals in his head. "Your contempt for my apartment aside, what are you doing here?"

The detective hesitated. "I was just in the neighborhood and I…" Shawn watched knowingly as the detective's gaze shifted to the rather impressive bruise on his head.

"You wanted to check on me? Oh, Detective, you shouldn't have!"

"I didn't," growled Lassiter. He paused. "This was a mistake. I'll just—"

"Wait!" Shawn shifted, patting the sofa seat beside him. "Come in. Sit down. Rest your rumpus. Put your feet up. Slow your roll. Chillax your—"

With an irritated grunt, the detective passed the threshold and sat in the chair farthest away from Shawn. "Look. I didn't exactly… yesterday, when I…"

"I know, I know. You were just expressing your love for me in the only way you know how, like that little boy in school who pulls the little girl's pigtails because he thinks she's cute."

"Absolutely not."

"Okay, you got me—" Shawn winced as a particularly painful wave shot through his poor, abused noggin. "I was that kid in school. Her name was Melinda, and she had the cutest, bounciest set of—"

"Dear Lord, please stop talking."

"I was going to say pigtails, dude. Mind. Gutter. Get it out."

"This is a monumental waste of my time," the detective spat, standing up so abruptly it almost gave Shawn vertigo… Or wait, he might have already had vertigo, wasn't that a concussion symptom ? And what was vertigo, anyway? Besides an Alfred Hitchcock flick?

Past the pounding in his skull, Shawn heard footsteps stomping away, toward the door. Despite the telltale ringing in his ears, Shawn scrabbled to his feet, ignoring the dark spots dancing wildly in front of his eyes. His pulse hammered, his breath felt short and stunted, and the dizziness spiked. He knew what was going to happen seconds before it did. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

***

When the world swam back into focus, Shawn was surprised to find that he was back on the couch, not in a heap on the floor. He noticed blearily that his hands tingled like he'd been sitting on them for a couple of weeks, and his ears were still ringing like a high school band had paraded between them and accidentally left the triangle player behind. With a groan against the horrible pounding that had overtaken his skull – the procession of drummers must've gotten left behind, too – he rolled over to see Head Detective Carlton Lassiter kneeling next to the couch.

"You passed out," the detective stated helpfully.

"I did not," Shawn argued, mostly out of obligatory need to irritate whoever was in his general vicinity. "I fell asleep, suddenly and quickly, in a very manly and not wimpy way."

"Sure you did. Just be glad I got to you before you hit the ground. You would have a matching bruise on the other side of your head."

Shawn feigned shock. "So you dashed to my side, caught me before I hit the ground, gently placed me on the sofa, and lingered over my prone body until you knew I wasn't on death's door? Detective, I'm touched."

Lassiter half-sneered, half-smirked. "You were only out for a handful of seconds. I was hoping you'd stay out of it long enough for me to escape, but of course you had to ruin that plan, too."

Shawn winced, only partly out of pain. "Look, man, I'm sorry about your girlfriend. I just—"

The detective stood hastily, popping up from the ground like a Jack-in-the-Box with a strong Irish hairline and lots of pent-up aggression. "We don't talk about that. Ever."

Shawn lifted both hands up in mock surrender. Lassiter's face softened, just the tiniest, miniscule bit. "You're okay, though? Do I need to call your father or someone—?"

"No! I would rather you leave me here to die."

Lassiter shrugged. "Works for me." He strode for the door.

Shawn hesitated, licked his lips, and then offered, "Detective? Thanks."

"Just take it easy," the detective advised.

It was as close to an apology as Shawn was going to get, and, though Shawn might not have shown it through his next words, he did in fact appreciate it.

"Lassie," Shawn said, testing out the new nickname he'd been considering since he'd met the detective. He watched with glee as the man bristled in agitation.

"What?" the detective ground out through gritted teeth.

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

The head detective had fled the apartment and slammed the door before Shawn could blink. Shawn settled back into the couch cushions and tried to will his head to stop raging against him. Or at least a plain but not drop-dead-ugly working tolerance, he amended in his head, before he drifted off to sleep.

#psych #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #karen vick #fanfiction #fic rec #psych fanfic #episode au #friendship sort of #hurt/comfort #also sort of #usa psych #emcatwrites