A momentary scare — A Permanent Claim drabble
A/N: I have never been through anaphylaxis and I’m not allergic to anything so my medical knowledge might not be completely accurate
Behave, Mousey. I’ll know if you aren’t, and I’m not afraid to dole out some punishments — Curtis
“He’s still worried? He needs to relax a little, its dinner not a strip club.” Park side-eyes Nat and gives her a little smirk, the two women communicating silently while you sit around a table.
“Its Mousey,” Nat teases affectionately, “the only people Curtis is more protective over is Theo & James.”
“We’re not…” you lean forward and rest your forearms against the edge of the table. “…going to a strip club are we?”
“Not now, hun.” Nat reaches over to squeeze your hand, her smile meeting her eyes. “We’ll let you get a little more used to the club business before we throw naked men at you.”
“Or at least try to throw naked men at her. If Curtis doesn’t throw her over his shoulder first.” Pari and Nat’s teasing comes with ease, and you don’t feel dismayed by their comments.
The idea of Curtis becoming so jealous of you going to a strip club that he throws you over his shoulder was another thing altogether.
“She’s thinking of it.” Nat continued, lifting her glass to her lips. “Let that imagination run wild, its not even close to what Curtis is capable with you.”
“Oh! No, I mean I’m not…” you felt warmth pool in your belly, desire quick to follow when you think of all 6ft+ of him tossing you around.
“Ladies,” the waiter had come back to the table, first setting your drinks down, “your order will be out shortly. Another few minutes.”
“Seafood free, right? I hate to be anal but…”
“Allergies.” The waiter had nodded his head, an astute yet kind of distance in his gaze. “Everything’s taken care of.”
The waiter is quick to leave, and the three of you fall into a comfortable conversation. You drink and talk for the few minutes until your food comes, and then you add your final bits of dialogue before you start eating.
It doesn’t hit you at first, the sense that somethings wrong. Its subtle, almost as if it wasn’t there to begin with and then you feel it. You chew and swallow before you feel it becoming harder to breathe, your hands clutch the table as you recognize what’s happening.
“Y/N, sweetheart…” Natasha reaches for your hand, turning your wrist over to feel the drop in your pulse. “Call an ambulance!”
“They said it was taken care of!” Pari stands so abruptly, the chair toppled over and she’s immediately at your side, giving you support.
You feel like gasping for air yet your throw keeps growing tighter. You don’t know whether its the anxiety of going into anaphylactic shock or the idea that someone could have messed with your food that has you unable to comprehend the chaos.
“Call Curtis! Get him to meet us at the hospital!” Natasha stays behind, Pari is already leading you out toward the door.
A manager, the general manager or someone with absolute dread on their face, is coming toward you both. Your eyes burn, your skin feels hot and the urgent need to throw up is hitting you with the weight of train.
It could’ve been minutes, hours or days. You don’t recollect time between being in the restaurant to being strapped to an ambulance board. You don’t know how you managed not to completely collapse as the paramedics talk to you with muffled voices.
You feel accosted by the lights of the ambulance, you feel detrimentally conscious and aggravated with yourself for not having your EpiPen.
Everything hurts, everything is grating to your body. Your eyes begin to close as rest finds you.
“…i’m sorry…” you whisper to the person next to you, the back of an ambulance traded for a hospital bed. “…I screwed up…”
“No,” a handle yet rough hand brushes your hair back, his bright eyes linger on you, “you didn’t do anything, Mousey.”
“I didn’t know, Curtis. I told them over and over…” you felt weak still, but the oxygen mask you were given by the doctors and nurses helps enough.
“Someone fucked with your food. The cooks adhered but somewhere between it leaving the kitchen and being given to you, it was fucked with.” He leans in and brushes his lips against your forehead, kissing you softly.
“I should’ve had my EpiPen.” You whined, turning your head in embarrassment for being foolish. “I should’ve…been more careful.”
“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.” He astutely gentle, keeping a rather level head now that he’s here though you know he likely gave someone hell.
“Theo & James..?”
“They’re taken care of. Steve’s girls’ got them.” Curtis answered you and slowly inched you over so he could lay beside you, and then he wrapped an arm around you.
“I told you not to get into trouble.” His grip on you was protective and firm, he was careful not to squeeze. “This is never happening again, Mousey.”
“Curtis-“ he stopped you before you could stop, pressing a finger to your lips.
“We’re getting you an allergy protection dog. That’s not a question, its happening. And you’re going to start carrying your EpiPen.” Curtis spoke with finality, you couldn’t have argued with him if you wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, feeling emotional and anxious.
“I can’t fucking lose you, baby. I won’t lose you, I can’t.” Curtis closed his eyes and breathed in deep. “I would never recover.”