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Vitals

On your marks, set– oh! A-Train! And his beloved black girlfriend; the reader!

Summary: A-Train gets help from his black non-vought-propaganda’d homegirl on how to rep the community. No notes.

Prompt: Black excellence help from an excellent black(woman). Hahaaa..

Warnings: lowkey might be rushed nas. minor cussing, biased toward black readers, lowkey spends most the time introducing them than actual romance

! Ellam Yua's Pod: I’m awestruck by the lack of A-Train fics, especially with a black reader SMDH. Y'all I tried so hard not to use the N word </3 if it aint clear im black but boyyy i need to ween that word up out my vocab

WC: 4.1k

The aftermath of a heart-attack was pain, fear, and apparently 30,000 calories a day. If you’re the fastest dude on the planet.

Eating 30k in fruits and veggies was a damn hard thing to do. So, atop of recovery, there was also binge eating carbs and McDonalds which sucked because it’s literal garbage. You can only eat so many egg McMuffins before you start to hate the damn things.

The absolute screwed-over-ness that A-Train felt was… diabolical, with no better use of the word. Regular check-ups at the clinic made sure his heart stayed pumpin’ and his caloric requirements were met, but eating all that sugar opened the door for diabetes, too.

He hated sitting and waiting hours to be seen by some silver fox with a clipboard to tell him he needed to eat healthier and remind him that he’ll fucking die if he runs.

A long exhale left his lips. He poked at the pudge around his stomach like it’d shrink and wither away if he touched it enough. He sucked in a sharp breath and his tummy along with it. The door clicked and he coughed his throat raw with a rushed exhale. The doctor was different this time. No grown ass white man with glasses that made his face look like a bad cartoon disguise and that stupid ass stretching cat sticker on the back of his clipboard that said “Keep on meow-ving.” Honestly, it’d be more clever if it was a cow.

Instead, his doctor was a young woman– no grey hairs in sight– with glowing brown skin and coily hair tied up in a bun. A curl slipped out in the back and brushed against her neck like a whisper. Her edges were laid sleek and even and she had clear lipgloss on that drew his attention to the dual-tone of her lips. The roundness of her nose suited her face and the pair of eyes that narrowed at her tablet through the bright light above her that reflected off of her blue-light glasses and created a harsh glare. His eyes flickered lower, observing her body now. She looked like your average woman, but at that moment, it felt like he had never seen anyone like her before. Of course, he’s never specifically seen her before. His head tilted slightly, bewildered by the bright pink of her shoes. They lit up. Aren’t Skechers for kids?

“Mr. A-Train.” Her tone was surprised. She seemed startled when he looked back at her face. She looked too young to be a doctor, but Viola is 58 going on 30, so. “What a.. A surprise– I should go get a doctor.”

“You aren’t one?” He asked, stopping you in your tracks. “Well, I figured as much.”

“I’m a student.” You explained hastily. The room quickly became awkward as your eyes trailed over his body, specifically his suit. Oh goodness. The suit. “I wasn’t aware I’d be dealing with such an important patient. This is my first internship.”

“I’m only here for a check-up. I trust you.” He scooched back on the exam table which was pretty awkward. The paper crinkled up and tore and rode up the bed. He grimaced and finally sat still.

“All right. Well, it’s an honor to meet you, A-Train.”

“Please, call me Reggie.” He cracked a grin, though. The fangirls never got old. Clearly he’s still pretty tight with the black crowd.

“Then it’s my pleasure, Reggie.” She put down her tablet after reading another line and removed her blue light glasses, setting them down over the now black screen. “It looks like your exam will be quick today. You’ve been keeping up with yourself.”

He audibly scoffed at that. Your brow cocked, and he waved it off with a dismissive hand to signal it was nothing. He watched you search the office for gloves and he debated telling you that they were in the drawer right to the sink. But he didn’t have to, you’d found them soon enough.

Once gloved and sanitized, you wheeled over the blood pressure machine and staggered in your steps wheeling the thing away to replace it with a stethoscope.

“Shouldn’t someone be watching you right now?” He asked. The question was more empathetic for your nervous fumbling, likely amplified by the fact that you were currently nursing your favorite hero. The force it took to remain professional was a force, all right.

“Yes. Technically.” You nodded your head and sighed. He sat up straight as you pressed the stethoscope to his chest. “But you know how it is in this economy. Deep breath in.”

He inhaled until his lungs couldn’t hold anymore air and exhaled on your call. The process repeated until you were satisfied and let him know that everything was fine, just some palpitations when he took his third deep breath. Likely due to the lifestyle changes. Believe it or not, that wasn’t as reassuring as one might think.

You told him not to worry as you strapped the blood pressure monitor around his arm. And strapped it again because you were bothered by the asymmetry.

“So, what are you studying?” He asked when the quiet got too loud. Well. When the sound of velcro got too loud.

“Uhm, nursing.” You replied, finally just sticking the damn thing and oh-welling it. You clipped the pulse ox on his index and turned on the machine. “But I already studied. I just got my license.”

“That’s good. We need more nurses.” He gave an approving nod.

“Everyone says that.” You shook your head with an amused smile. “Ever since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true.” Reggie looked at your smile, the way it curved your lips and your eyes narrowed just slightly. “You know, nurses don’t get enough credit.”

“That’s true.” He hadn’t registered that the monitor had inflated and deflated in the time it took for the two of you to talk and for him to stare at you like a creep. “Lookin’ good so far. Your blood pressure’s a little high, though. You been stressin’ out?”

“Nah, nah.” He shook his head immediately. “I think it’s just lifestyle changes.”

“Well, you don’t even need me here.” You teased as you wheeled the monitor and ox away. When you turned back around to look at him, your eyes drove over his body again. “In my professional opinion, if anything was stressing you out, I would suggest finding a way to relax.”

He felt a little self-conscious from the once-over. He didn’t let it be known, he just nodded.

“Hey…” He snapped back into reality by the sound of your voice, timid and a bit flustered. “I know this is way unprofessional, but I’m a huge fan. I’ve been kinda freakin’ out the whole time. Can I get a picture?”

“Sure.” he nodded, smiling wide from just the question alone. He leaned over into your side as you raised your phone, snapping a selfie with the hero and staring at it with awe.

“I’ll go get a doctor to check your blood pressure and other… stuff.” You walked over to the counter to pick up your tablet and blue light glasses. You put the latter on and typed something on the device. “You know. Medical stuff.”

“Thanks.” He read your nametag before you walked away and stored it in his memory. “It was nice meeting you. Hope to see you as an RN next time.”

“Thank you.” Your voice faded as you left the room, though you had turned back to flash a smile that made his heart stutter. In a good way this time.

The next time you encountered A-Train was after the whole rebrand fiasco was over. He’s able to run again thanks to that racist white dude’s heart transplant. Honestly, after hearing who the donor was and hearing about that shit-show apology through family friends, it turned you off from A-Train as a whole. But he had come to the clinic for a check-up off the clock.

You walked into the room, saw his face, and your smile dropped. Honestly– nobody was in the mood to look at his face after catering to the white folks. All that cultural begging he did just to turn around and grovel for a modern day Jon Burge.

“You got some nerve comin’ up in here.” You didn’t settle like you usually would. In fact, you hadn’t even closed the door. “You better get the fuck out my face.”

“I know.” He grimaced at the anger in your voice. “I don’t usually hear direct anger from the masses.”

“Yeah, well, you should read your comments on instagram.”

A-Train stared at his feet like a punished child. Eventually, he did look up after the door clicked shut. You hadn’t left and gotten another nurse.

“You said the next time you saw me, you hoped I’d be a nurse.” You said, setting down your clipboard and sitting in the swivel chair. “What’s up? ‘Nother exam?”

He nodded his head, suddenly mute under your gaze.

“I see you dropped that suit.” You put on sterile gloves and walked over to the monitor. “It was busted anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone said.”

You eyed him for a moment, let go of the monitor, and walked over with the stethoscope to listen to his lungs first. He watched your expression again this time. Not much had changed in six months, aside from the fact that you had more experience. And that you didn’t seem to like the A-Train anymore.

“You ain’t wanting to talk?” He asked, filling the silence once you went to grab the blood pressure monitor.

“Unless it’s medical concerns, no thanks.” You gave a half-hearted smile and strapped the velcro around his bicep. “Relax for me.”

You clipped the pulse ox on his finger and turned on the machine. He did relax his body, but he hated how the tension made it so difficult.

“I didn’t have a choice, you know.”

“He targeted black neighborhoods and arrested innocent people.”

“I tried to fix it.”

“He attacked them because they didn’t accept his bullshit apology.”

“I just wanted to make peace.”

“”I, I, I!”” You mocked, listening to the sound of the monitor inflating. “He paralyzed your brother.”

A-Train went quiet. The next minute was silent and you read the machine to take his vitals down on paper.

“Your blood pressure’s high.” You said.

“Really?” He asked, feigning incredulity. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Your rebrand didn’t work because you went at it from the perspective of a white person trying to be black. Like the OJ of Vought. Oh, you know what happen when you fuck with them white people?”

“All right, man.” He shook his head and you quickly regained your professionalism.

“You try-harded it. Be real. Don’t make it hard.” You removed the ox and rolled the machine over to the wall it was on. “You don’t gotta be Martin Luther King. You can be the Dr. Dre. Or the Ice Cube. Or even the Will Smith!”

He went to speak, but you continued,

“Any kind of black man but Samuel L. on Django. And that’s who you was actin’ like.” You waved your pen at him before you got to writing.

“Can I get your number?” He asked after a moment of letting your words stew. You looked up at him, a bit hesitant, then nodded.

“This is probably unprofessional, but I’m your nurse, not your doctor.”

“Why is that?”

“What do I look like wasting my best years to grow grey hairs before I’m 30?” You scoffed, writing down your number on the paper and handing it to him. “Hm. Don’t lose it.”

He nodded his head, glancing down at the phone in your pocket before looking back up at you.

“I wouldn’t. Maybe you can teach me to be the 2Pac of Supes.”

“Don’t push it. Nobody can be Makaveli.” You waved him off, but he was just happy to see your smile. He didn’t notice that he was smiling back until you shed your gloves and gestured to the door. “Walk with me, Reggie. I can still call you that, right?”

“Sure.” He stood up from his seat and opened the door like a proper gentleman. You exited first, and he followed at a respectful distance.

The next day, you got a text from none other than A-Train himself. It was a short request for a date. A sweet one, though. You had obviously accepted. Why not? Well… we know why not.

The restaurant was in a fancy high rise at the highest floor. It was close to the water, so you could smell the wet breeze when you stepped out of the taxi. If you were being modest; it felt way out of your league to be in a place like this. If you were being real; it felt exactly like what you deserved.

The elevator went up highhh. You stayed far away from the window looking out at the city. Whoever had the bright idea to make a glass elevator must laugh at people with a fear of heights.

You showed up to the spot in a sleek blue dress with a black pocket book. Your neck and wrist shone with faux diamonds, a matching set gifted by your mother for your birthday. Your earrings reflected the light of the restaurant, catching Reggie’s eye the moment you stepped out of the elevator’s doors and onto the polished marble floors.

The clack of your heels made Reggie nervous as you approached him at the host stand. He tried not to turn around too soon lest he embarrass himself by seeming desperate. You tapped his shoulder, immediately letting out a delighted hum.

“You smell good, Reggie.” You remarked. He turned to face you and broke out a large smile at the sight of you. A crown of coils framed your face, voluminous and puffy and undeniably soft. He could already tell. And you smelled like a sweet bakery.

“Thanks. You look amazing.” He said. He took your purse and the host guided the two of you to your table and went to retrieve a waiter. It had a view of the harbor. You always loved the look of water at night. “So… how are you tonight?”

You looked at him and shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m fine. Kind of hungry.” You said. He nodded. “I didn’t eat all day. I was waiting for this.”

“Yeah, same.” He hadn’t eaten because he was nervous.

The ambiance was giving. The moon was out and everything, not even a cloud was in the sky. Hurray for New York night time weather.

“Have you come here before?” You asked, hoping to make conversation and break the piano-lined silence between the two of you.

“No.” Reggie shook his head. He didn’t say anything after that. Your eyes flickered over to look at the water again, a slight grimace on your face. Did you just get an ick??? “B-But my friend has. You know, the Deep. He says it’s a pretty sweet spot.”

“You’re friends with–”

“I mean, not my friend anymore.” Reggie shook his head. Your grimace only deepened. He sucked his teeth, irritation replacing his anxiety. “I’m trying here.”

“So am I.” You gestured at him, “You gave me a one-worded answer.”

“Yeah, but I explained myself after.” He threw his hands up. “The Deep is an asshole. He’s not my friend. But when we were friends, he told me this place is good eats.”

You pursed your glossed lips and sat back in your chair. “You could have just said that.”

“I just did.”

You hummed to signal agreement and the vibe carried as it was. Awkward. At least until the waiter came and took your respective orders and brought out the food. You ate with little conversation, mostly about how nursing was turning out to be and how it was similar or different from what you imagined. The same topic came up for Reggie, but you asked regarding his job as a superhero.

The two of you left the restaurant together this time. He handed you your pocket book and you walked along the harbor.

“That lobster was good, right?” He asked. He was still staring at the path ahead, thinking about how that check woulda hurt his pockets back in the day.

“Yeah. It was great.” You agreed. Reggie could tell you weren't satisfied with the place. Honestly, if Deep is such an advocate for the sea, why did he rec that restaurant? Actually, he might have been bashing it. Nobody really listens to what that guy has to say. If you did, you’d hear how much of a dumbass he is.

“You’re still hungry?” He asked. He knew he was.

“Oh my gosh. Yes.” You sighed deeply, like the weight of breaking the shitty portions was off your shoulders. “That lobster tail had to be from a crawfish or somethin’. They are scamming. My mama made better pasta than that little bendy straw on my plate.”

Reggie laughed at your unabashed proclamations. He had no notes, he wholeheartedly agreed.

“Do you wanna get a sandwich?” He asked, side glancing the Jersey Mike’s a couple blocks over. “I been really craving a sub.”

“Yeah, but we taking a taxi, right?” You asked, because it looked like he was loosening his tie. “I’m not with that cheetah mess, Reggie.”

He scooped you up in his arms, eliciting a shriek. “Lucky for you, girl, I’m faster than a cheetah.”

Before you could protest, he flashed forward and you were outside the Jersey Mike’s in a blink. You eyed him as he put you down on your feet, one of which was missing a heel. You didn’t know if you were gonna puke or piss yourself. The city flashed before your eyes. He stared at your bare foot and decidedly removed the shoe that was left.

“You know, only wearing one shoe is bad luck.” He reminded you playfully.

“You’re paying for my new shoes.” You weren’t sure how to react than to just play it normal? How do you react? Either way, you meant that about the heels.

He nodded his head and lifted you up into the building so your feet wouldn’t touch the bare NYC sidewalk. What a gentleman. Your feet touched the cold linoleum of the Jersey Mike’s instead.

You ordered your usual sandwich and he ordered his own. Of course he paid for it. You ate in the restaurant and watched the cars pass by while you talked. Instead of the stiff conversation about jobs and work and employment– yes, all the same thing– you talked about your interests and what schools you went to, how you grew up, the stuff that actually matters. You ate half the sandwich before you tapped out. Reggie finished his and tossed the bag in the trash from his seat. You had to admit it was impressive.

You rewrapped your sandwich and put it into a plastic bag. Reggie helped you up from the booth and you gripped his hand.

“You’re not running me home.” You said firmly. “That was like flying in a plane with the window down.”

“I’d rather you compare me to black sonic.”

“Black sonic is knuckles.” You said, then paused. “Sonic is black.”

“We’ll take a taxi.” You held each other’s hands out the door and walked down the block until you found a taxi service to take you there.

The ride to your apartment wasn’t long. It was 34 minutes to get to your complex. Reggie paid the driver. You couldn’t help but feel good as you dug your keys out of your pocket book. A fine rich guy who pays for everything is any girl’s dream man. Your fantasy come true. Hell, maybe you’ll finesse him into paying your rent this month..

He caught up to your side as you unlocked and opened your door. Your apartment was on the ground floor. You turned to look at him, a curious expression on your face at the fact that he was still here.

“What?” You asked, pulling your door back closed as you faced him. Reggie tensed a bit, offering a small smile.

“I’m escorting you inside.” He said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“Boy, bye. You’re not gettin’ any tonight.” You opened your door and stepped inside, wiped your feet on the mat, then turned back to him. “Come here.”

He leaned over into her space and you leaned in to kiss him. He tasted like salami and provolone. No surprises. You pulled away, patting his cheek.

“You got something. Goodnight.” You hung your key on the rack and held the doorknob.

“Goodnight.” You closed the door and Reggie listened to the lock click. He turned around, stretching his arms up and out. He ran home, feeling like a giddy high schooler who’d gotten his first kiss. A good night indeed.

You didn’t expect your relationship with A-Train to escalate into what it was. Not anything too serious… Well, yes serious. Dating is pretty serious if you’re not a dick, but moving in together was a huge step in the span of two months. Reggie finally left the Klan rally that had become Vought(what the hell was that mess with the Nazi and then the addition of Soldier Boy?) and he wanted you to be safe, therefore he had brought you along with him and his brother and his family overseas to escape Homelander. You never saw the hype in the guy. But you usually pay attention to the black heroes anyway. Your heart ached when Sage joined the All American pissing match. Not that you knew her, but she’s a black woman. That shit is universal.

Anyway, it sort of felt like a never ending vacation. Reggie hated referring to it as that, but it felt better than always calling it witness protection from a power-hungry manchild with his dick in his hands. Oh, yeah. Hearing the stories from Reggie made you pissed on his behalf. That willfully inbred colonizer got on your every nerve whenever you cut on the TV and saw his plastic smile.

And that is why the Franklins encourage you not to watch the news.

Speaking of which. Reggie walked into the bedroom with an authentic Italian pizza and a bottle of white wine.

After he left the Seven, he had gathered everyone up and they went straight to Florence. Obviously with some layovers to shake any suspicion. Once in Florence, he rented a condo in the city next to all the good food places. Of course.

Reggie set the pizza box down on the bed and climbed in beside you. The ragebaiting news had been erased from your mind, instead replaced with the heavenly scent filling your senses as soon as he opened the box.

“Mmm.” You pulled the box into your laps and picked up a slice. “What made you think of moving to Italy?”

He glanced at you sideways, “you asking now?”

“I’m not judging. It was a great choice.” You took a large bite from your slice and hummed with delight. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

“What about your dad?” He asked proudly.

“Okay. Second best.” You corrected yourself with half seriousness. Reggie took a bite from your slice and you handed it to him instead. “I want to eat the crust.”

“Psychos like the crust.”

“Babies still complain about crust.”

He rolled his eyes, throwing his arm over your shoulder and leaning back against the headboard.

“What do you think about babies?” He asked. The hesitance in his tone was warranted, judging by the fact you stared at him like a madman. “Obviously not right away. Eventually.”

You relaxed. He handed you the crust of the pizza and you ate it.

“I at least want one girl and one boy.” You said, smiling fondly. “But I want a girl first. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“A little mini me?” He asked. You nodded your head.

“I was real close with my mom coming up. I want that with a daughter.” You then shrugged your shoulders, “And if it’s a boy first, we’ll dress him up like a girl.”

“That’s not happening.” Reggie gave you a look and you reciprocated it with an equally challenging eyebrow raise. “He’ll be my mini me.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He snorted. Despite the fact that it’d been a long road to get here and be this free, at least they were here. And so far, there hadn’t been anything or anyone to get in their way. Not even Homelander.

ᯓ★ AK: ANC-907 .ᐟ

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