Saint Patrick’s Day may be a very happy one for the Irish this year, with the Ireland XV one (rugby) game away from a Six Nations Grand Slam! As I am not a sore loser, and I love good food, I may join in the craic! And with a glass of good Irish whisky and these few recipes, so can you! Cheers!
For the Oatcake recipes: maybe a story about M constantly trying to ask Oat out (eating together, going to the cinema, going on a walk? Whatever!) while Oat is like "oh! what a friendly inspector! cool! such a good material for a pal!" all the time? I would like to see the big revelation at the end, but if you prefer not to include that, that's okay too :D
(My ao3 name is SzmaragDrac)
Shame on me. I found some prompts in my drafts from a while ago. My drafts are a mess, but maybe this will still make you smile ^^
Unaware your love has caught me | [AO3 Link]
“What’s that?”
Oat looked up from his lunch, which was a perfectly recognizable portion of Pad Kra Pao and frowned at Dr Bunn.
“My lunch?” He hastily looked at the clock, but he had neither started too early with his lunch nor was he already over his break time.
“I see that,” Dr Bunn said slowly, “since when are you using this kind of…” he seemed to struggle for words, “fancy Tupperware.”
“Oh!” Oat couldn’t contain his smile. “It’s from Inspector M. We ordered too much yesterday and he insisted that I should take the rest for todays lunch.” His smile fell when Dr Bunn just continued to look at him as if he pictured him on his autopsy table. Dead. Sliced open.
“Nothing what you just said made sense,” he finally said and to Oat’s confused spluttering took a sharp turn and left without another word.
“What?” He picked up the cover of the Tupperware box. It was an ordinary one. With scratches because it was apparently used very often… There was nothing wrong with his lunch.
Maybe Dr Bunn struggled with paperwork recently. He always got extra moody when he had to stay late for paperwork. Oat shrugged and continued to eat. Inspector M really knew the best food stalls in Viangpha Mork.
“Hey, Doc! Hey! Doc!”
Oat turned around and almost lost the huge pile of files in his arms. A shit-eating grin greeted him when he focused on the person that had apparently called him.
“How was your date, Doc?”
The young man on the examination table looked strangely familiar. Oat had either seen him around the village or, he stepped closer to take a look at the file, he was a regular.
“Another motorbike accident?”, he asked. The clothes were torn majorly on the left side of the young man, Tat stood on the file, a bloody gash on his left shoulder, left knee and high on his left cheekbone.
Tat shrugged, still smiling at Oat like the Cheshire cat. At least, there was a helmet laying next to Tat on the table.
“What do you mean with Date?”, Oat asked and contemplated putting the files on the cart to look at the injuries. The emergency room bustled with people and Oat would swear on one of his kidneys that this young man had told every nurse and doctor that his injuries weren’t that bad.
“Your little evening stroll with our Inspector.” His northern accent got heavier, and Oat wondered if he really thought he could embarrass Oat with the fact that Inspector M had walked him home yesterday after he had found him on the street with a flat tyre on his bicycle. Ah, to be that kind of cocky young adult once more, Oat thought with a quiet chuckle.
“Let me have a look at your injuries,” he said instead of taking the bait, and searched for a spot to safely put away the files, “do you experience headache or pressure behind your—”
“Tat!” Before Oat was able to get closer a lanky, tall young man appeared, out of breath with Dr Fai in tow.
“I found a doctor,” he said and raised Dr Fai’s arm while pointing at the embroidery on her white coat. Dr Fai appeared a bit confused but also amused and Oat took a step back to give them room. Tat sputtered at the other boy, beet red, and Oat caught his eyes to wink, pointed at the lanky boy and mouthed: “Quiet a catch.” The redness on Tat’s cheeks, which shouldn’t be possible, deepened and Oat left the emergency room cackling.
Things like this always reminded him how small Viangpha Mork was and how easily you became part of the village gossip. It also reminded him that he needed to find a way to express his gratitude to Inspector M who had insisted to repair his bike. Oat put the files on a little table next to the archives room and smiled. He had thought it would be hard to make friends outside of the hospital, with their busy schedules and all that. But it seemed like Inspector M was on the speed run to his first pal not involved in the medic field. Nice!
+++
“Tough day?”
Oat didn’t lift his head. His head was fine where it was. On the hard surface of the table outside of the hospital, his butt slowly but surely lost all sensations on the wired bench he sat on.
He grunted and something was placed next to his head. He opened his eyes a bit. Food. He even smelled it. The heavenly smell of something fried. His back crackled when he straightened himself and he squinted at Inspector M who had sat down across from him. He was in uniform but didn’t wear his hat. Soot and dirt stained his shirt and even his cheek.
Traffic accidents weren’t uncommon. The winding streets. Tourists and locals alike who were impatient…but a whole bus with little bodies.
Oat sighed then tried to smile and opened the food container.
“Thanks,” he said and munched on the fried fish cakes. Here they sat, tired to the bones, worn-out psychically. Oat had feared that someone would find him who wanted to talk to him, but Inspector M just sat across from him and sipped from a cup of coffee occasionally.
“Did you know that we have a cinema here?”
“Really? I thought you have to drive to the next town to watch a movie.”
Inspector M shook his head. “They will only show the latest blockbuster once a week. Wednesday. You want to go? As a distraction?”
What Oat really wanted was to go home and wallow in self-pity. Which wasn’t the best way to deal with a crappy workday he knew that. Still, he nodded; his cheeks full of freshly fried fish cakes.
“What movie is it?”, Dr Fai asked when Oat and the rest of the hospital staff ordered their popcorn at the little stand in front of the theatre. Which looked like they would enter someone’s living room soon. Oat didn’t mind. He wanted to lean back in a comfy chair with his brain shut off.
“Inspector M said they show the latest blockbuster. Maybe a Marvel one?”
Oat turned when silence followed his words. Fan and Dr Fai stared at him while Dr Bunn rubbed his hand over his face. Oat was quite sure that he said something like: “I can’t believe this.”
“What?”
“Oat. Is Inspector M waiting for you in there?”, Dr Fai asked.
“I guess.” They had said they would meet at the cinema after they both had showered. Oat had invited the rest of his colleagues when he had met them while he had packed his stuff.
“Oh my god,” Fan said and both women shouldered their way past him and shot him disbelieving looks.
“What?”, he asked again because ‘What?’.
“Just eat your popcorn,” Dr Bunn said and shoved him through the entrance of the cinema. He was so confused he almost overlooked Inspector M who waved at them from his seat. A bunch of other people were also there, but the room wasn’t packed.
“I thought you wanted to go to the cinema,” he mumbled when he passed his colleagues. They had appeared very enthusiastic when he had invited them. Confusing pack.
+++
“Your bill is already paid.”
The music was a bit loud at this part of The Mist and Oat frowned. He leaned over the counter and put his hand behind his ear.
“What?”
Tan leaned forward with an eye roll. He had that from Dr Bunn, Oat was sure of it. Oat had thought that the relationship with Tan would make Dr Bunn a bit more laid back, but it just made Tan more sarcastic.
“I said your bill was already paid.”
Oat had the feeling his frown would engrave itself permanently into his forehead.
“Who?”
Tan jerked his head to the left and Oat followed his direction. Dr Bunn and Inspector M stood at the other end of the bar and talked. It was like a punch in the stomach every time to see Inspector M outside of his uniform. The softness was always a surprise.
“Dr Bunn?”, Oat asked. That would be weird. Since Oat had made the video about drunk Dr Bunn that long time ago, his boss had more or less made it a rule that Oat was the one who had to pay for his drinks if they weren’t at The Mist. Dr Bunn didn’t have to pay for his drinks at The Mist.
“I can’t believe I pity that guy,” Tan said but Oat didn’t really listen because the Inspector laughed at something Dr Bunn had said.
He jerked back when Tan flicked his finger against his forehead.
“Hey! That hurt.”
“Hopefully. The Inspector was the one who paid for your tab. Don’t forget to say thank you.”
“Oh,” Oat said while he rubbed over the sting on his head. Inspector M had paid? Again? Maybe he should start a list so he would be able to pay Inspector M back sometime soon. The lunch last week, the little snacks he bought him at the end of his shift… he needed to figure out a way to pay him back.
Ten minutes later he realized that taking a ride with Inspector M, who lived in another direction wasn’t the payback he deserved. Maybe he acted a bit too comfortable with his newfound friend. But it was existing to have someone who seemed like he enjoyed his company.
“Inspector M?”
“Call me just M.”
Oat wanted to protest, but Inspector M threw him a brilliant smile that was so in contrast to his solemn facial expression when they met while he was in uniform that Oat might have burst a blood vessel.
“Please,” he added. Oat had to turn away and put a hand over his heart to keep it from breaking out of his chest.
“Oh my god,” he mouthed to his reflection in the window.
“Sure,” he said out loud.
“M,” he tried again, “the next meal is on me, okay? I can’t let you go away with paying all the time.” Especially because they haven’t even been together at The Mist.
“But I want to,” M said and turned a corner into the assortments of condos Oat’s home was. “Let me.”
Best new friendship ever, Oat thought happily. Okay, he didn’t want to take advantage of M but it was nice to be pampered for once.
“Then thanks for driving me—” but before he could even unbuckle M was already out of the car and Oat found himself escorted to his door. At least the grannies looking through the windows would see that he arrived home safely.
“Thanks again,” he said after he opened his door and maybe he needed to make a little sign he could raise instead of saying ‘Thank you’ all the time. He turned to wave at M, but the man looked at him like he wanted to ask him something.
“Mhm?”
“One question,” M said, stepped closer and put one arm high on the doorframe. He was almost looming over Oat who felt like he needed an oxygen tank soon. There were a lot of muscles close to his face. In addition to M’s aftershave that was all kinds of delicious and how the moon framed M’s entire being from behind. There was a whimper waiting in Oat’s throat.
“Sure,” he said, a bit breathless. Hopefully, M just thought he was a bit tipsy.
“Are you just polite because you are afraid of rejecting me or are you really oblivious?”
Oat stared at M. Had he heard that correctly?
“I am sorry?”
“I flirt with you,” M said exasperated but not angry.
Oat opened his mouth then closed it. Neurons reconnected themselves in his brain and tried to make sense of what he had heard. His worldview had to be rewritten.
“People don’t flirt with me,” he blurred out.
He wasn’t… he knew that he wasn’t ugly or difficult to be with. Older women flocked towards him and wanted to put flower crowns in his hair and dress him up. They all saw a little brother in him. A fun little brother to pamper a little bit, but not date.
And now…
Oat had carefully stopped himself from thinking about M like that. He had forbidden himself from lusting or daydreaming because M had sought him out as he had always been sought out. As someone, you could have fun with. Not to start a relationship with.
“They do. I do.”
“Oh.”
And some stuff made click in Oat’s had and a smile grew on his face.
