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Rural Medicine, Chapter 2 (Thatch x Reader, fluff with some angst, modern AU)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other chapters

Thank you to @jk--47 for beta-ing this work! I keep adding to the plot and I'm not sure anyone cares but me but I love cowboy Thatch and no one can stop me. Huge thank you to @flyingbanananas for helping me fix one of the scenes with your wonderful suggestions!

A/N: IK you can’t get a transfusion at urgent care, this is fiction. Also don’t be like Sabo, go to the ER if you have internal bleeding.

Three grueling hours later and rounds were finally done. Normally rounds were over in about an hour or so, but Dr. Crocus wouldn’t shut the fuck up about every single disease presentation that each patient had. And of course, because you were the resident and he was the attending, you had to dutifully listen to what he said and answer all his questions that were designed to slip you up. That in itself was ok, you had attendings like that before. No, the worst part was that of course Dr. Crocus knew Marco’s father. And of course he’d met Marco when he was younger. So of course Marco got to be buddy buddy with the attending while you followed behind them like a stray dog. You didn’t really know what Marco’s father did, but everyone seemed to know him. Probably some big shot in the government or something.

Once you were finally free from rounds, you grabbed your phone to check for new messages. Your heart raced as you saw an unread message from Thatch from earlier that morning.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: It’s a date :)

You didn’t mean to leave him on read for so long, so you typed out a quick response. It wasn’t that you were ignoring him, you really couldn’t always be on your phone.

You: Great! I’ll meet you at Shakky’s at 8?

Shakky’s was the local rip off bar but you generally liked the vibes there. It was a little rough and tumble but nothing you couldn’t handle. You’d treated one of Shakky’s bartenders at the Urgent Care and sometimes he’d slip you a free drink as repayment. Thatch started replying right away, which made you smile. It was nice to text with someone who wasn’t playing the game.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: U sure u don’t want me to pick u up? U could be my passenger princess.

Ok, that idea had appeal. He did know where you lived…but no. You didn’t really know him and if things got awkward you would want to drive yourself home. If things went well, then next time you’d sit pretty while he drove you places. The thought of relaxing while someone else drove you nearly had you sighing in happiness.

You: Not this time, but I appreciate the offer. I have to go back to work but I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: Me too ;)

You walked back to the resident lounge with a bounce in your step. You had a long way to go before you were free for the night, at least you had something to look forward to. Even if Thatch did use emoticons like an old man.

Hours later and you were dragging your feet into the Urgent Care for your last shift of the week. You closed your eyes as you grabbed the handle to the staff door and wished upon every star you could think of that there wouldn’t be anyone in the waiting room for you.

Wrong.

You mentally groaned as you peeked into the waiting room on your way to a patient room and saw a few familiar faces. You’d told some of these ranchers that you weren’t a primary care office, that they needed to go to their regular doctor and not see you every month. They were not only ignoring your advice to establish care with a primary care doctor but also ignored most of your medical advice as well. You didn’t really expect anything else from gruff farmers, but you did wish they took their medications regularly.

And oh come on, Ace was in the waiting room too? You’d just treated him the other day, how did he keep – whatever. You took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the bullshit you were about to hear.

About two hours later and you’d given Fossa a requisition for lab work, Blenheim got a referral to podiatry, Haruta got a prescription for antibiotics for a nasty bite, Jiru got a referral for a sleep study, and you gave Rakuyo a referral for physical therapy.

The only person left was Ace.

You pushed the door to the exam room open to see his smiling face. You tried glaring at him but a smile cracked through as he beamed at you. Ace was one of your favorite idiots. You couldn’t imagine how he’d injured himself again but the stories were always pretty funny. This time there was another man with him wearing a top hat, ruffled shirt, and trim waistcoat. Considering Ace didn’t wear a shirt, they made an interesting pair.

“Hi, Ace. What are you in for this time?” you asked, sitting down on the stool by the computer.

“Not me, actually. I brought my brother Sabo here to see you,” he said with a bright grin. Oh? The blonde was his brother? You mentally shrugged, you didn’t give a single shit about people’s family connections or their familial resemblances.

“How often are you here?” the blonde asked his brother, his eyebrow arching. Ace’s smile widened.

“Enough that she knows me on sight. What can I say? I'm a memorable person and being a park ranger is dangerous work,” Ace said, tossing his brother a smirk.

“Why don’t you ask Ma-”

“Alright, how can I help you?” you asked as you scanned his file. You wanted them gone so you could have an easy night finishing your notes and finally collapsing in your bed. Looking back at the patient, you could have sworn you’d met him before. But you’d remember meeting someone with that kind of facial scarring if only for the fact that you wondered how he kept his vision with an injury so severe.

“Have I seen you somewhere?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. “Oh I know,” you said with a snap of your fingers. “Aren’t you that Revolutionary guy who keeps fighting the World Government but hasn’t gotten captured? The one with all the wanted posters?”

“Hey! You can’t ask those kinds of questions! Doctor’s secrecy or whatever!” Ace sputtered, inserting himself into the conversation.

“Yes. I can,” you said with an eye roll. You weren’t taking advice from someone who met a “friendly” porcupine the previous week – which left you removing the needles for an hour. Besides, the laws meant you couldn't reveal how you met Sabo, not if you already recognized him.

“That’s me!” Sabo said with a dazzling smile. Oh, they were brothers alright. Charming, charismatic, idiotic, hot brothers. “You’ve seen my work?”

“Uh, didn’t you set fire to that animal testing facility a few months ago after freeing the test subjects?” you asked, briefly scanning his medical history.

“Yep!” That had made you ecstatic actually, the experiments the Marines did there were completely unethical. You’d done a one month internship there in college and what you had seen still gave you nightmares. Sabo could have a few extra tests on the house as far as you were concerned.

“Next time go for the loan office,” you said with a half smile.

“So how can I help you?” you asked, rolling your stool over to him. Sabo lifted up his ruffled shirt to reveal a nasty bruise over his trunk. As an ER doctor you’d seen a lot of things, but never a patient with that amount of bruising who was in such a chipper mood. You quickly snapped on gloves and asked Sabo to lie back on the table. You gingerly touched his bruises, surprised he wasn’t wincing or even showing discomfort. The only time he twitched was when you palpated his broken ribs.

“Well, you’ve broken a few ribs and a lot of internal bleeding. I’m sending you to the emergency room-”

“No,” Sabo said, his smile unfaltering. Of course. Of course Ace’s brother would be just as difficult as he was. But in this case it made sense – if Sabo went to the hospital he’d be arrested by the Marines for his numerous crimes against the World Government. Adjusting your stethoscope you thought for a minute to determine the best course of action. The doctor in you couldn’t let him leave without some kind of medical care, even if it meant going beyond what the Urgent Care was meant to treat.

“Do you want to know how I got injured? It’s kind of a funny story actually,” Sabo said conversationally, interrupting your train of thought. Your eyes flicked over to the lead pipe in the corner that had red stains on the bottom. It might be better if you didn't know.

“I’m good. Ok, listen. I’m going to give you an xray here for the ribs and some pain medication to take the edge off. You need a transfusion for your significant blood loss. You need medical attention somewhere, like a hospital,” you stated. Sabo gave you an unblinking smile. You sighed. He wasn’t going to a hospital.

You pursed your lips – Sabo wasn’t going to the hospital, that was clear. Really, by law you should be calling the authorities and have him arrested. But in your good conscience you couldn’t let him leave like this. Despite his good nature and surprisingly robust constitution, Sabo was at a critical point in his bleeding. And you did like the Revolutionary Army and what they stood for, you wouldn’t let their golden boy die from internal bleeding. You could fudge the charts a little and say it was Ace who was getting the transfusion. He had enough medical maladies that something like a transfusion wouldn’t be a surprise. Thinking it over in your head for a minute, you decided to do the right thing.

“I can do it here-”

“Thank you! See, I told you she was good. And you were afraid she was going to call the Marines,” Ace said, bowing slightly. This fucking guy.

“Was not! Chopper said that she’s the doc to see for situations like this,” You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled slowly. You didn’t care at the moment how they knew Chopper, he had a pretty wide social circle anyway.

“I can do it here, but this isn’t the best facility. Ace, I’m saying you’re the one getting the transfusion so I don’t get fired for helping a fugitive. It’ll take one to three hours and you’ll need to follow up with me in a few days. I’ll give you my cell number and I can meet you somewhere else,” you explained. Both brothers grinned at you. Definitely related.

“Thank you, I owe you an incredible favor. I know urgent care isn’t the correct facility for such procedures and that you are risking your license over such a matter,” Sabo said with a hand over his heart. He spoke a lot like some of the nobles you had treated a few times, but how could that be if he was Ace’s brother? A mystery for another time when you weren’t on the clock and violating the law.

“Yeah, yeah. Send my bill to the Revolutionary Army.”

Two hours later and you were finally done at the Urgent Care. It had only taken about an hour and a half for Sabo’s transfusion to run but you also had notes to do and a final patient to see. You urged Sabo to come back a few days later so you could check on him and make sure he wasn’t dead. Outside of Sabo, you felt like all these ranchers were telling each other to come to you, that you’d do all the work they needed without the hassle of having a primary care doctor. You didn’t mind treating them, but you were exhausted. You looked at your watch, it was almost 10 PM on a Friday night. Perfect time to faceplant into your bed and not wake up until late afternoon.

Which is exactly what you did.

When you woke up the next day, you were surprised to see it was only noon. There was still plenty of time to get some errands done before getting ready for your date. You took a long, luxurious shower, running through your mental list of everything you needed to get done that day.

After finishing your shower, you threw a load of dirty clothes into the washing machine. You were unsure when you last had the time to run more than your lab coats and underwear but based on the smell, it had been a while. Humming to yourself, you looked over at the closet full of clothes you seldom had the opportunity to wear. The weather was warm so you threw on a cute sundress and hit the road, prioritizing what you needed to get done.

Your first order of business was obviously getting a gigantic cup of coffee. You settled for getting one at the gas station after filling your nearly empty tank. You inhaled the aroma and sighed in happiness. It wasn’t a fancy latte but your heart loved gas station coffee. Maybe it was because your medical school had been across the street from a gas station and you’d spent many breaks between classes guzzling the cheap brew. You did not harbor the same eternal love for gas station taquitos – after a few too many eaten hot off the rollers you couldn’t even look at them anymore.

Once your car was fueled, you made your way over to Whole Cake Foods. It was cheaper than the other grocery store in town, All Blue. You’d stopped in All Blue once and walked right back out once you saw they were selling 2200 Beri protein shakes. Definitely not in your price bracket at the moment. You went down the middle aisles, grabbing the standard fare that you usually ate. It was mostly frozen food or food you could make quickly, like ramen. You didn’t bother getting anything fresh, all your fruits and vegetables went bad before you could eat them. It wasn’t that you liked eating like shit, you didn’t have the time or energy to cook anything else.

It didn’t take you long to finish your shopping, hopping back into your car to go across town for one more errand. Checking the time, you’d be able to get this done and head back to your house in time to eat and get ready for your date. You just had to stop by the hardware store and pick up a few new lightbulbs and a step ladder to replace a bunch of bulbs that burned out at Kureha’s. You’d been meaning to do it for forever, it was so annoying to have to use the bathroom light when you needed light in your bedroom.

You drove over to Water Seven and quickly grabbed what you needed. You couldn’t remember what wattage your bulbs were so you picked lightbulbs that looked the most like the ones in the house. Did it matter if they were 60 watts or 120? Weren’t all lightbulbs the same? Whatever, you were a doctor, not an electrician. Looking at your phone, you saw it was already 4:30 – you needed to get home, shower, eat, and get ready for your date.

You threw the brown paper bag onto the passenger seat, put your key into the ignition and….

Nothing.

Turning the key made a brrrrrr sound come out but the engine wasn’t coming to life like it usually did.

Fuck.

You thought quickly through your options. Kaya was on call, she wouldn’t be able to help you. Her boyfriend Usopp was on a road trip with his friends, Law was on a surgery rotation and working, and Chopper couldn’t drive. So you were out of luck for someone to come pick you up.

FUCK.

OK, you could still solve this. You were an ER doctor, this kind of situational change was nothing to you. You’d somehow deal with the car, borrow a loaner, go home, and tell Thatch you’d be late but still show up to the date. Plan made, you pulled out your phone and called Iceburg’s shop. You needed to talk to him about your car anyway. You weren’t sure if he would be mad since you’d bailed on him the last time you had an appointment to bring it in. In your nervousness, you bit a nail as the phone rang.

“Galley-La Auto Shop, this is Paulie,” a gruff man said on the other line.

“Hi, this is-”

“Iceburg, it’s Kureha’s brat!” the man shouted, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence. Based on his tone, you didn’t think it was a good sign.

“Tell her no,” you heard Iceburg yell back.

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” you protested, getting a little flustered at their rude treatment. Didn’t they value customer service? A muffled sound came through the phone as someone else got on the line.

“What is it?” Iceburg asked. The chill in his voice had you second guessing your choice to call.

“Well, my car won’t start and I’m stuck-” Iceburg sighed into the phone.

“Listen. You no call no showed on me twice in two months. That’s money out of my pocket. I can’t give you any more special treatment even if you are Kureha’s kid-”

“But I was called in to work! I didn’t have a choice-”

“I’m booked solid for the next week. I can get you in after that,” he said, before the line went dead with a click. He hung up on you? Ok, yes, you had missed your last two appointments at the auto shop but you were on call! You had to get to the hospital, it wasn’t your choice! People were literally dying! You understood why Iceburg was mad, but it really wasn’t helping you at the moment. You laid your forehead on the top of the steering wheel.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

…

There was one other person you could call for advice. Or, text.

You reluctantly pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through your recent contacts. The thought of asking Thatch for a favor already had you feeling discomforted – he had already helped you two nights prior. You didn’t want him to think you needed him for anything or were mooching off him. You typed and deleted the same text several times before finally finding the courage to hit send.

You: Hey Thatch, can I ask you a question? You flipped your phone over and stuck it between your thighs – you would feel it if he responded. Sure enough, a few moments later you felt the buzz of an incoming text.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: Always, Sugar. What’s up? The use of a pet name had your cheeks burning a little bit but you couldn’t deny that you liked it.

You: So I’m in town and my car won’t start. What should I do? I have jumper cables – should I use those? You hoped he had a simple list you could check, you didn’t really know much about cars.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: I won’t say told u so. Send me ur location and I’m on my way.

You: Are you sure? Aren’t you working? You felt guilty that he was coming get you. Yes, it was the weekend but ranchers worked daily. It wasn’t like the farm turned off because it was Saturday.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: It’s a good time for me to take a break. Location please. You pursed your lips, you really hadn’t meant for him to come get you. Still, you didn’t really have any other options besides taking a taxi you couldn’t afford to get back to your house.

You: I’m in the parking lot of Whole Cake Foods.

Thatch Neighbor 🤠: I’m coming, Sugar. Stay put. Your palm across your mouth hid your small smile. It had been a long time since you’d been able to ask anyone for help – and receive it.

With that, you got out of the car and scrolled on your phone while leaning against the body of your car. It wasn’t something you normally had the time for but it felt nice to relax in the late afternoon sun. About 45 minutes later you looked up and saw the same deep purple truck from the night before pulling into the parking lot. You smiled and waved and saw him grin smile back, making your heart skip a beat. He pulled up next to you, turning off the car and getting out.

While you were waiting you’d wondered if it was just a trick of the light or your sleep-addled brain that made him so incredibly attractive the night before. You’d worried that when you saw him again he wouldn’t be as good looking as you remembered. You should have put your fears aside because when you saw him in the afternoon light, he looked even better. Thatch stepped out of his truck and you momentarily forgot why he was here as you stared at him.

In the dark of the night you hadn’t fully seen how toned his forearms were, how large his biceps were, or the dimple in his cheek. He was wearing well worn jeans slung low on his hips and a tight white tshirt, his hair slicked back from his face instead of down low like the night before. Thatch looked comfortable and casual and oh so sexy. He looked like he could be on the cover of a romance novel – all he would need is a breeze to blow his hair behind him and a cheesy title like Lassoing his Love, or something like that.

“So, the car didn’t make it, huh?” he drawled, standing in front of you with his thumbs in his pockets. Blinking your eyes a few times, you recentered yourself in reality.

“Uh, n-no. It’s uh - well, I don’t really know what’s wrong with it. I called Iceburg-”

“He’s an asshole, don’t bother with him,” Thatch said with a scowl. His face softened again before pushing his hat farther back on his head. “You can go sit in the truck, I’ll take a look at your car.” Being told that you didn’t need to handle a crisis was the hottest thing a man had ever said to you, but you didn’t want to impose.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” You offered, it would be rude not to. But really, you wouldn’t be much help between the fact that you were in your cute sundress and your lack of mechanical knowledge. So in your heart, you hoped he declined your offer.

“Nah. Go relax, I got this,” Thatch said, grabbing a toolbox from the bed of the truck. He took his cowboy hat off his head and put it on your own.

“Hold this for me, would ya?” he asked with a grin.

You had opened your phone to your email just in time to avoid getting caught watching Thatch root around under the hood of your car. Again. Thatch was obviously well versed in car mechanics and was making the whole ordeal look easy. You tried to watch him surreptitiously as he worked, his back flexing under his tight tshirt and his ass straining against his old jeans. He looked so tasty you had to remind yourself to breathe. Thatch somehow sensed you were watching him, looking up at you and tossing you a wink and a smirk. Blood rushed to your face in a way you hadn’t experienced since the talent show in elementary school. You averted your gaze quickly, mortified to be caught staring. You were grateful Thatch didn’t say anything and turned back to bend over your engine.

A few minutes later (after you failed to quell many inappropriate thoughts), Thatch came to stand next to the open passenger window. He wiped his hands on a rag and looked down at you from under his cowboy hat. All your hard work at trying not to blush was ruined as blood returned to your face – and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“Well, good news is it’s just the alternator that’s dead. I can fix it for you,” he started, flipping the rag over his shoulder like a chef. You sighed in relief, a smile gracing your mouth.

“That’s great! Thank-”

“The bad news is I can’t do it right now. I don’t have the parts and Franky’s is closed. I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” he continued.

“Oh. Well. Um, thank you! I can - well, you don’t have to, I can deal with it tomorrow, I’ll figure out something-” you stammered, not wanting to make more work for someone who was practically a stranger. A hot stranger who lived next door, but a stranger nonetheless. Thatch hummed but didn’t respond to your statement.

“We can leave the car here for the night, I’ll drive you home for now. We’ll figure out the rest on the way,” he said, leaning on the window.

“Thank you, really. I feel bad making you drive me around so much,” you said, resting your hand on his corded forearm. Thatch didn’t mention the touch but didn’t move his arm away either. He smiled at you and tossed the rag back onto the bed of the truck.

“You’re not making me. I want to,” he said simply. At this rate you could probably run a study on what happened if someone blushed continuously within a half an hour time frame.

“Thank you,” you said simply, giving his forearm a small squeeze. Oh lord, it was like squeezing iron. You kept talking before your imagination could supply any more imagery. “Ok, let me grab my groceries, I don’t wanna leave them here. They’re in the trunk,” you said, reaching for the handle of the door.

“I got that too, I gotta put my tools away anyway. Just sit pretty,” he said, his calloused hand settling on top of yours for a moment. Before you could blink he’d removed it and started walking to the back of the truck. You popped the trunk of your car with your keys and tried not to imagine what those roughened hands would feel like on other areas of your soft skin. You failed.

“This isn’t food,” Thatch stated from behind you a few moments later. You scrunched your brow, trying to remember what else was back there. You hadn’t cleaned out your car in a while, maybe he’d found an old laundry bag or something?

“Oh, um, I might have a few lab coats back there too? I think-”

“No, I’m looking at your bags from the grocery store. None of this is actual food, there’s not a single fresh item here. This isn’t nutritious,” Thatch said disdainfully. You twisted in your seat to look at your open trunk. He had a frozen meal in his hand, flipping it back and forth between the front and back of the box.

“I can’t let you eat this. I’m a chef, this is an insult to my profession,” he said, dropping it back into the bag as if the box was going to bite him. His tone was teasing but your pride still took a hit from his words.

“I mean, I don’t really have time for cooking. It serves its purpose,” you said, trying for a light tone. Thatch raised an eyebrow at you before rummaging in the bag once more and picking up a sachet of instant ramen.

“I’m just worried about your health, I’m not tryin’ to insult ya. You gotta know this stuff isn’t good for ya,” he added, showing you the front of the carton. You bristled, it wasn’t like you enjoyed eating pre-made frozen lasagna and ramen all the time.

“Wait, you’re a chef? But you know so much about cars,” you asked, still a little upset about his gentle ribbing. Maybe changing the subject would have him dropping the issue altogether.

“It comes with living on a farm. Everyone does for the most part. Maybe a few of my brothers don’t, the ones who work offsite like Ma-” you interrupted him as he crunched the noodle bag slightly.

“Hey! That’s my favorite flavor! Don’t break ‘em!” you protested, getting out of the truck and scurrying to the trunk of your car. You stood next to Thatch and grabbed the bag out of his arms, moving as he tried to look at more of the groceries in the bag.

“Look, I know it's bad but I don’t have many other options. And I don’t have money for more food, so I need to take it with me, OK? I can’t waste this stuff,” you said softly while doubling down on your choices.

“I don’t mean anything by it. We’ve all had struggle meals, yeah? But you’ve got other options,” Thatch said, picking up the second paper bag from the trunk.

“Like what? I can’t eat at the hospital every day, residents can only eat 20 meals a month for free and I can’t afford anything else,” you groused, hugging your bag tighter to your chest. He was right, you shouldn’t eat this way, but there wasn’t any other way you could reliably have a warm meal at the end of a long day.

“I’ll cook for you,” he said with a grin. You stared at him – surely he was joking.

“Haha, very funny,” you said in a clipped tone. You didn’t find the situation humorous in the slightest. You were the one who had to choke down frozen food over the weeks. He was a chef, he probably cooked and ate amazing food daily.

“I’m not joking. I cook full meals for everyone on the ranch three times a day. Adding you to the roster would be no trouble at all,” he explained, putting your bag of groceries into the bed of the truck. Thatch slowly reached for you and gingerly pried the second bag from your hands, like you were a scared animal backed into a corner. You let him but made sure he put it next to the first, not leaving any of your food behind.

“No, I can’t. Thank you, that’s very generous, but no,” you stated with finality, your mouth setting into a thin line. It was one thing to get a ride to your house but it was not acceptable for a grown adult like you to depend on anyone for a basic need. You’d learned early on in life that you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself and this was no different. Thatch looked at your face and must have seen your determination because he nodded once, his countenance softening as he gently grabbed your elbow between his rough fingers.

“Then at least let me feed you dinner tonight. It’s about suppertime and the food’s already cooked. It would be my pleasure,” he said with a warm smile. You immediately felt guilty for coming down so hard on him, he was only trying to help. It wasn’t like you to return kindness with scorn, and he didn’t deserve it after coming all the way to pick you up. Besides, a warm dinner did sound nice. You relaxed your shoulders from where they’d hiked up to around your ears and gave him a smile.

“So you’re saying you’re bringing me home to your family for our first date?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Thatch’s grin widened as he walked you back to the passenger side door.

“This isn’t our first date, that’s later tonight. This is just dinner with neighbors.”

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