Summary: After a routine appendectomy, Dr. Y/N wakes up in recovery heavily under the influence of anesthesia. In her chatty, zero filter state, she flirts shamelessly with the handsome doctor by her bedside, complimenting his face, demanding hand holding and ice chips, and rambling about her secret crush on Dr. Jared Kalu.(completely unaware it’s actually him she’s talking to)
The Good Doctor Masterlist
The recovery room hummed with the soft beeps of monitors and the distant shuffle of scrubs against linoleum. Dr. Y/N had been under for what felt like an eternity, routine laparoscopic appendectomy after that stubborn case of appendicitis she’d tried to power through for three days straight. Idiot, she’d muttered to herself pre op. Should’ve listened to Jared.
Speaking of Jared Kalu…
He had been the one who’d finally dragged her down to the ER, all stern eyebrows and that quiet concern that made her stomach do flips unrelated to inflammation. Now, here he was again, stationed by her bedside like some kind of sentinel. The anesthesia team had warned the staff. Y/N was a notorious lightweight when it came to waking up from anesthesia, a little not from the dentist.
Chatty. Emotional. Zero filter.
Y/N’s eyelids fluttered open, heavy and sticky. The world swam in soft pastels, ceiling tiles blurring into clouds, the IV pole a wobbly giraffe. Her mouth tasted like cotton and regret. “Ughhh… why is everything spinning? Make it stoppp…”
A warm chuckle from her right. “Hey, easy there. You’re in recovery. Surgery went perfectly.”
She turned her head, slowly, like it might detach, and squinted at the tall figure in blue scrubs. Dark skin, kind eyes, that stupidly handsome face topped by ruffled surgical cap hair. But her drugged brain supplied.
Hot doctor. Nice voice. Must be… dream guy?
“You… you have a nice face. Like, really nice. Did they hire you from a magazine?”
Jared raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Flattery from you already? That must be a new record.”
“Shhh,” Y/N whined, waving a floppy hand that felt detached from her body. The movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her. “Everything hurts. My tummy feels like someone took a melon baller to it. Can I have more sleepy juice? Please? I’ll be good. I promise. No more charting at 2 a.m.”
“You’ve had enough sleepy juice,” Jared said gently, checking her vitals on the monitor. “Pain meds should be kicking in. Just breathe through it for a little longer.”
She pouted, full lower lip out, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Meanie. You’re mean. Cute, but mean. Why won’t you hold my hand? Everyone else gets hand holding in recovery. I see it on Grey’s Anatomy.” Her fingers twitched toward him, clumsy and insistent.
Jared hesitated only a second before sliding his hand into hers. His palm was warm, steady, grounding. “There. Better?”
“Mmhmm.” She squeezed weakly, then sighed like the weight of the world had lifted. “You’re the best. The absolute best. Not the bestest like Dr. Kalu. He’s all… broody and perfect and makes my heart do the stupid flippy thing every time he smiles. But you’re nicer. You listen.”
Jared froze, thumb pausing mid stroke over her knuckles. “Y/N…”
“Shh, dream doctor. Don’t ruin it.” She tugged his hand closer, pressing it to her cheek like a security blanket. She leaned into his hand more. “Jared’s so smart. And those hands… surgeon hands. I bet they feel amazing. Not that I’d know. I just… stare. Like a creep. But in a professional way.”
“Exactly.” Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, eyes fluttering half shut again as another wave of loopy warmth washed through her. “I love him, you know. Like, love love him. The kind where I replay our OR banter in the shower and trip over my own feet when he says my name. He’s probably dating some equally as beautiful resident right now. Or some model. But that’s okay. I can pine quietly. Very quietly. Except when I’m high on drugs and telling handsome strangers.”
Jared’s expression softened into something raw and wondering, a smile breaking across his face that she was too out of it to fully register. “Y/N, it’s me. Jared.”
She blinked slowly, processing like a dial up modem, then shook her head with exaggerated stubbornness. “Nope. Nuhuh. You’re not my Jared. My Jared would never hold my hand like this. He doesn’t even know I love him. He’s all professional and broody and probably thinks I’m just the annoying trauma surgeons wannabe who steals his good pens. This is some super realistic hallucination. Go away. Or at least give me more drugs so I can enjoy you properly.”
“Y/N,” he tried again, voice warm with barely contained laughter, his thumb still gently stroking her knuckles. “It’s really me. You’ve been out for a bit, but you’re coming up now.”
Her face scrunched up in hazy denial, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she whined pitifully, smacking her dry lips together. “My mouth feels like the Sahara Desert. Why is it so dry? It’s like I swallowed a whole bag of cotton balls. Can I have some ice chips? Or water? Or… anything? This is torture. The surgery was supposed to fix me, not turn me into a desertly parched patient.”
Jared reached for the cup on the side table without letting go of her hand, offering her a small sip of water with a straw. “Small sips. Don’t rush it.”
She took a noisy slurp, then immediately started shifting under the thin blanket, trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed despite the IV tugging at her arm. “Okay, that’s enough lying around. I need to get up. I have to walk. I need to get back to work… I don’t want my sick days wasted on a stupid surgery. Appendicitis? Pfft. I could’ve powered through it… who needs an appendix anyways. There’s probably a consult waiting, or charts piling up, or… something. Help me up, fake dream doctor. Or real model? Whoever you are. Just don’t tell Dr. Kalu about any of this love stuff. Promise?”
“Whoa, easy,” Jared said quickly, gently pressing a hand to her shoulder to keep her from fully sitting up, his grin widening despite the concern in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere yet. Bed rest for now. And your sick days are exactly what they’re for, recovering from surgery. The team has it covered.”
She whined louder, flopping back against the pillow with dramatic flair but still clutching his hand like a lifeline. “But I feel fine. Mostly. Except for the spinning and the dry mouth and the tummy melon baller thing. This is so unfair. I was supposed to confess dramatically. With flowers. Or after saving a patient together. Not… this. To a hallucination who looks more and more like him.”
“Definitely a good idea to have someone here for your wake up,” he confirmed to himself, brushing a stray hair from her forehead, voice dropping warm and teasing. “But the confession? That one’s getting filed away for later. When you’re not whiny, loopy, and trying to stage a great escape from recovery.”
She peeked one eye open, cheeks burning despite the anesthesia fog. “Kill me. Just… end it. Appendectomy wasn’t enough.”
“Can’t do that. I need my favorite pining doctor back on her feet.” He leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “I love you too, by the way. Even when you’re demanding ice chips and plotting your return to the floor.”
Y/N let out another mortified groan, burying her face into the pillow, though she didn’t let go of his hand. The monitors beeped steady. Recovery was going to be interesting.
