Whumptober Day 13: Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking a Few Legs
Whumptober masterlist
Santiago Garcia x gn!reader
Rating: Mature
Word count: 576
Warnings: Dislocated joint, pain, resetting a limb
Summary: Santiago's knee has been dislocated and this time he can't sort it out himself.
Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”
“Look at me, please.”
Santi squeezes his eyes tight, the pain radiating from his knee almost too much the bear. It throbs like someone has taken so many hot pokers to his abused flesh simultaneously and at this point, he’d rather pull his entire leg out than endure the pain any longer. Maybe he could actually break both his legs, that would certainly be less painful than the torment he’s being dragged through now.
“Santiago, please. Look at me. I can get you through this, just look at me, okay?” He hears your voice and while it might be a balm to his burns, the pain is just too much. He shakes his head, his breathing erratic.
He might never admit it to any of his old teammates - Benny would tease him mercilessly - but he lets out a small whimper when your cold hands touch his skin that is on fire. The coolness of you stings him and Santiago is unsure why your hands don’t burst into flames when they touch him. How can you keep touching him when he is ablaze?
“Okay, okay. Just listen to my voice then. When I say breathe in, I want you to take a long breath and hold it. Nod if you understand. This will hurt, but hold in the breath, okay? I will pop the joint back and the pain should lessen soon afterwards.”
He really should listen to you, Pope reminds himself, you are a nurse after all. Even in the crude surroundings you two are in now, you are his best shot at fixing this. He nods jerkily, finally able to peel his eyes open after that.
You kneel beside his chair, your eyes open and honest as you look back at him. There are silvery scissors next to you on the floor, his pant leg in shredded fabric by its side. He can’t even remember when you cut it off him. “If you…” He tries to whisper but fails miserable. “Wanted my pants off…” Fuck him, he can’t even speak through the pain!
“You can flirt with me later Santiago Garcia, but now I need you to match my breathing.” Your voice holds a command and Santi falls back to it easily, old habits and all. He’s good at taking commands, it’s ingrained in his spine. He keeps his eyes on you, matching your breathing with some difficulty. Your chest rises and falls steadily and he follows the movements to the best of his ability.
In and out, in and …
“FUCK!” Santi howls when the sudden agony pierces through him. If his knee was on fire, it’s now being doused in the hellfire all on its own. He can’t feel or see anything else, the knee is only thing that is left.
It feels doubled in size, the painful throbbing of his flesh felt down even in his toes. The torture he is experiencing feels so severe he’s gripping to his consciousness with his fingertips. His vision swims in murky waters and there is a sense in him that he is actually swaying on the old creaky chair.
Your cool hand on his cheek gives him an anchor in the storm. “It’s okay, the pain will go away soon. Just stay with me, Pope,” your voice cuts through the buzzing in his ears, but only faintly. He has no energy to answer, Santiago just sags in his chair and lets the pain claim him.
