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Today was a long winter’s day; an ambulance came in, and somehow every single person that came in was either an anomaly or possessed. After 3 death rituals, 2 anomaly attacks, and 2 critical patients, your stamina (and frankly, your sanity) was draining faster than a bathroom sink. Dr. Harlow congratulated you on your hard work and gave you your check. The only thing that really made you happy about this day was your shiftly cup of coffee and the bonus hitting your bank account after a night’s good work. While this place did work you to the bone, at least you got paid well. You’d worked long and hard to get the Head Nurse position, and you were proud of it. And having a loft apartment in a major city didn’t hurt either. It wasn’t a penthouse, but it was classy and luxurious enough to fit the size of your salary. Luckily for you, the Secretary (the angel she was) told you that she could cover the few patients left over from the shift and left you with the much easier task of receptionist. You checked your reflection in a compact mirror, noticing the smudged mascara on your face. The chaos of the shift didn’t spare your “smudgeproof” mascara. Oh, well. You’d be able to fix it up with a few scrubs of a makeup wipe and a reapplication. After you cleaned up, you checked your light blue scrubs. Surprisingly, there was a minimal amount of blood splattered on it. You could just run it under cold water and I’d be fine. It didn’t soak through to your skin, anyway, so you didn’t have to change. You set down your stethoscope after the rush, letting out a long sigh. As you sip on your cup of coffee, you hear the door chime. As you look up, you see who it is. Ron was exhausted, as always, his ginger hair slightly messy and his black, round glasses sitting on the edge of his nose like he’d barely remembered them as he ran out of the office. He walked in calmly, with that suitcase that you’d always wondered what it contained and he’d never told you. As he came up to the window, he smiled softly.
“Hello, I’m here for my appointment…” Ron said, his voice carrying that soft rasp that always made your heart skip a small beat. It was like he was teasing you without trying, and it annoyed you. But it didn’t annoy you enough to deter the growing infatuation you’ve obtained over these last couple weeks for him. He placed down the necessary papers with slim, yet steady fingers. You’d noticed the little dorsal veins on the top of his hands and how they’ve grown over the past two months. You also noticed the tiny scars from papercuts and one that seemed to be from a paring knife or some other sharp, small object. Ron seemed to notice your staring, as he smiled ever so slightly.
“Something wrong, Ma’am? Are my hands secretly telling you I have a secret sickness of some kind?” His voice had dropped, both in tone and depth. You quickly snapped out of it and shook your head. You assured him that there was nothing wrong, and used the excuse of exhaustion as a reason for your prolonged staring. He seemed to take the answer seriously, as he nodded. As he posed for his picture to be taken, you checked the cameras. Nothing was out of the ordinary, as usual, and his picture was perfectly fine, too. You quickly stamped the papers and printed out his badge after putting him through the computer and auto-running his insurance. You handed him his badge, and for a moment, your hand brushed against his. You manage to school your micro-expressions, but he didn’t seem to. His eyes flared open a bit, and you could’ve sworn you saw a bit of blood rush into his face, but you weren’t sure. As fast as it came, it left.
“I’ll be in room 4. Can I also request you to be my administrator? You insert the needle in the least painful way.” Ron murmured. You nodded. You didn’t know if that was just a friendly compliment or flirting, but it made you happy either way. Drug administration was your specialty. You could find a vein in anyone, and you had the rare skill of being able to tell how much liquid was in a needle just by holding it. Of course, you never actually practiced that skill on the clock. You couldn’t afford to lose a patient over human error. Ron started to lead himself to room 4, and you followed, opening the door for him and starting to prep the IV drip and needle. He sits himself down on the bed as you take his DNA, doing the routine check for any contagious diseases like HIV, Hep B and C, Herpes, the works. As usual, he tested negative for all of them. You grabbed the IV bag and hung it next to you on the bedside, getting the line flushed and taking your time like you did in med school, because when else could you? Then you grab a tourniquet, which matched your scrubs, and Ron naturally lifted his arm, used to the routine by now. You fasten it tightly, right above his elbow. The sterile smell of alcohol fills the room as you clean his arm, your nose used to it after smelling it thousands of times. You easily find a vein, after saying “Small pinch”, the needle slipped into his skin like butter. He really did have good veins. After smoothly advancing the catheter and removing the needle, you simply aspirate and flush the line after and attach the IV drip, securing it extra so it doesn’t fall out. As usual, another IV administered without a hitch. You were just about to leave, Ron grabs your arm with his non-attached arm and looks up at you longingly.
“Would you mind staying in here with me? I’ve been working alone all day, and I have nobody I can go home to. I just want to talk to someone other than my wall for a couple of minutes.” With that look in his eyes, who could possibly say no? You pull up a visitor’s chair and sit with him, placing your pager on the foot of the bed, just in case. You place your eyes on him, then on his briefcase. You didn’t mean to, but you were just so damn curious about the thing. The big red lettering saying “Top Secret” certainly didn’t give it inconspicuousness. Ron noticed and chuckled. His eyes fell to the briefcase, just like yours.
“Sorry, dear. You can’t know about any of that. It’s Top Secret. I will tell you this, though, since you’ve stared at it ever since I’ve started coming here. It’s about financial allocations. That’s all I can say.” Ron’s voice was definitely flirtatious now. Annoyingly so. But you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. You change the subject quickly, going on to ask about his life in general, his apartment, his few friends, his job. It was all painfully normal. The poor man needed some spice in his life. But you wouldn’t say that to his face. Not now. Not here, at the very least. At the end of the conversation, and as the IV drip ends, he notices your exhausted stature, and with a quick decision, asks you something.
“You seem pretty tired. Too tired. Let me drive you home.” He says. You try to refuse, but he doesn’t allow it.
“I insist. Your car will be fine. Just let me drive you back. You can sleep on the way there.” That offer was a bit too tempting to give up, and he was probably right. You did feel exhausted, and you had the next two days off, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. You get Ron off the empty IV and do the proper removal process. By the end of it, you check your watch. It was time to go anyway, so this was even more reason to let him take you back. You clock out and wave goodbye to the Secretary, who smiles brightly and watches as Ron and you walk into the parking lot. The cold of January barely registers as you’re led to Ron’s car. As you walked up to it, you were pleasantly surprised. You had expected anything but an Audi to be his choice of car. He struck you as more of a Toyota or Lexus kind of guy, but you weren’t complaining. He adjusted the seat to lean back as far as it could, then gently coaxed you into the passenger’s side. Ron got in the driver's seat, and before you knew it, you were out before you even hit the city’s streets.
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Before you knew it, you were in someone’s arms, getting carried into your bed by a skinnier, yet strong body. Ron? You hadn’t realized you said that thought out loud before you heard a small chuckle from the air above your head. You were placed on your bed, your shoes already off somehow. Ron gently coaxed you a bit more awake. He helped you change (with some directions to your pajama drawer), got you some water to put on your nightstand, and made sure your hair was put down and relaxed from the stress.
“Come on, just lay down, dear. You need sleep. You have water next to you, and your scrubs are in the wash. Nothing to worry about.” He murmurs, softly trying to guide you into sleep. You manage some sleepy thank-yous and lay down. In your sleepy stupor, you also ask one thing.
“You’re doting on me so much. Are you in love with me or something?” The look on his face made you confused, and then time caught up. You rush to apologise to him, but before you can get too far, you really focus on how his face really looks. He was beet red, blushing so furiously you thought that he’d start boiling the moisture in the air. His glasses just made you able to see the look in his eyes better. He was in love. In love with you. Moments passed before you decided to do something rash. You kissed him, hoping that this wouldn’t totally ruin whatever relationship you had. The kiss was short, yet soft. Like a lapping wave greeting the shoreline. The tension was thick, then Ron’s words cut through it like butter.
“That was everything I’d ever dreamed of. God, you’re perfect.” And with that, Ron was kissing you like your lips tasted better than anything he’d ever had. His hands found your waist easily, like he’d done this a thousand times. The two of you kissed for what seemed like hours. You could taste the balm on his lips from yours, and the softness of them just made it that much easier to fall deeper into the kiss. The two of you fell back into the kiss, your bodies hitting the plushness of your bed. As you went on, Ron moved down to the curve of your neck. He waited there, as if waiting for permission. As soon as you nodded, his mouth opened on your neck, his tongue and breath a pleasant kind of warm. Somehow, this kind of thing was even more satisfying when you were a bit tired. Soon enough, kisses turned to suction, soft bruises forming on your neck as you drown in the pleasant sensation.
The rest of the hour was a blur of whispered praise and pleasure, and by the end, you were sleepier than before and half of Ron’s clothes were discarded on the floor. Ron turned on the electric fireplace and then climbed into the bed with you. The two of you both fell asleep to the sounds of each other’s breath, whisking yourselves off into a new chapter of your lives, one that would be lived together.