"Emergency Contact"
Braxton x Reader
A/N: first I'm pretty sure the gif is by cry-bastion on here (I found it on pinterest but I do still try to credit where I can). This fic is pretty pretty self indulgent. The accountant movies have been comfort films for me- so I'm finally writing about Braxton
Warnings: descriptions of injuries (vague), reader character was in an accident, Braxton being concerned, some fluff, hurt/comfort etc
You'd joked with Braxton about this moment constantly, teased him that he'd be a terrible emergency contact. You'd still made him your emergency contact, on the list of three numbers, above your mom, and your best friend.
You trusted him, of course, that came with the territory of loving him.
You just didn't think you'd need him to show up. That was your first mistake really. You'd put too much trust into not needing Braxton, that the universe had to come and collect.
You didn't quite remember the accident, you were checking your phone, briefly, as you crossed the street. It had been green for pedestrians, so you hadn't really thought much of it- so you hadn't seen the person running the red light, until they clipped you on their way through. You remembered the fear, the sudden pain in your leg, and hitting the ground, after that it was dark.
You were unconscious during the journey to the hospital, and your phone wasn't too banged up, so the EMTs in the ambulance were able to make the calls to your emergency contacts. The first being, of course, Braxton.
He answered on the first ring, he always did for you, “hey sweetheart-”
The EMT interrupted him quickly, letting him know you'd been in an accident, what hospital you were currently staying in, and that he'd have to come in if he wanted more information than that. Your doctor wouldn't be comfortable with anyone giving patient information out over the phone.
“I'll be there, in the morning at the absolute latest-” he swore, hanging up quickly. He had to find a car, to hell with the rest of the job.
You woke up before he got there, you didn't know to be grateful for that. You knew your parents weren't there either, again, very grateful. They were spending a few weeks camping, and there was no cell service. You were still a little out of it, head fuzzy, and eyes squinting. Your right side hurt from about the waist down. You weren't sure why Braxton wasn't there, but you were hopeful that whatever job he was probably on (he'd never give specifics before he left) that he'd stay gone until you were discharged from the hospital.
You weren't so lucky.
Your doctor came in, chart in hand, she was reading through it when she told you, “we managed to get ahold of your emergency contact, he said he should be here at some point this morning.”
Your heart dropped, “which emergency contact? My parents, right?” You almost considered crossing your fingers for any possible luck that might bring.
She looked up from your chart, “no, the first one on your list.. Braxton? He said he was on his way as soon as he was told what happened.”
Great. Wonderful. Lovely. Not that you didn't want to see Braxton, him being there would honestly be a balm for your terribly frayed nerves. The longer you were awake, the more you remembered about the accident, and as much as you tried to tell yourself you were fine- you really could have died the moment that far hit you. Somehow you didn't, somehow.
“Your injuries are mild thankfully, a minor concussion, and fracture to your pelvis. We want to keep you for a few days for observation, to make sure there's no internal bleeding that's being hidden by any bruising,” the doctor told you, making notes in your chart as she spoke.
You nodded, a little too shocked to properly respond. Your head did hurt, and your lower body ached, but you were fully unaware there'd been any actual damage.
While your doctor was updating you about your care plan for the next few days, Braxton was walking up desk. He looked a little worse for wear, dark eye bags, duffle still in hand. He hadn't even gone home before coming up to the hospital. When he came up to the counter, the medical receptionist looked up at him, “can I help you sir?”
He nodded, and told the man your name, and asked what room number you were in. It wasn't as easy to get through as he thought it would be. Before they let him go back to see you, he had to explain exactly who he was to you. Normally he'd respect that, liking the idea that there were extra precautions in place to keep you safe.
Now though? He was annoyed that he had to waste precious time explaining anything to the man at the desk. You needed him damn it.
When he was finally let through, he nearly ran through the halls to your room. Did he get turned around in his well-hidden panic and have to ask which direction he needed to go? Possibly, not that you'd ever hear that piece of information.
Your doctor had just left when Braxton came in, he looked tired, and worried. You could see it in his eyes. He didn't let you get a word out though, because he was dropping his duffle at the foot of your bed, and grabbing one of your hands in his. “I'm alright,” you assured him quietly.
He shook his head, “you've got no idea how worried I was.. when I got that call-” he trailed off-
“Really, I'm okay,” you squeezed his hand gently, “they didn't need to call you, I'm sorry you were so worried.”
He shook his head again, this time more emphatically, “no,” he said firmly, “I want to be the one who gets that call to be there for you. Even if it scares th’ shit out of me, sweetheart, I want to be there.” If you were to look closer at Braxton's face, you would have seen his eyes shining with unshed tears.
He continued after a moment of silence, using that short time to gather himself, “I'm all in, whenever you need me.”
You found yourself holding back tears at his simple, yet heartfelt words, “always Brax, I always need you,” you replied quietly, you still hadn't let go of his hands, and you smiled ever so slightly when you felt him squeeze yours.
It was in that moment that he decided he'd turn his focus towards more legal, and less dangerous business ventures. Not because you'd ever ask him to choose between you and his job, but because you said you needed him. It really was as simple as that.
“You have me,” he almost whispered, as he leaned down to press the gentlest kiss to your forehead. He let it linger for a moment, as he really thought about how lucky he was.
He could have lost you, but he didn't. You were there, and you needed him, and he wouldn't take that for granted again.
