🏥 Taking Care of Injuries HC with the flower shop au you've mentioned? 👀
HEATHER. You have no idea what you started with this ask. It's all still a very rough idea but here is a drabble with flower shop owner!Rhysa and (maybe?) first responder!Din...
(You can find the original fic here.)
Warning for minor injury and mention of blood.
At the sound of shattering glass, Din spun around, looking for the source; he half-expected the front door to be broken and intruders swarming the little shop but he forced himself to take a breath, inhaling slowly and deeply before letting it out. He heard Rhysa swear and then another, smaller tinkle of something breaking. Popping his head into the workshop behind the counter, he saw her kneeling among the remains of what looked to be several vases, hand clutched to her chest. "What happened?" he asked, crossing the room and sinking down next to her. The shards crunched under his heavy-soled work boots.
Rhysa looked at him with dazed eyes. "It…the box, the b-bottom of it, it fell out; they all broke, the vases…"
Din shushed her gently and gripped her elbows, helping her to stand. "Let me see," he said, carefully prying her hand away. An angry gash crossed the palm, bleeding sluggishly; it was long but shallow and didn't look like it needed stitches. "You have a first aid kit?"
Rhysa nodded, seeming to come back to herself. "Under the counter," she replied.
Din glanced over his shoulder towards the shop front and then back to Rhysa. While his boots protected his feet from the broken glass, she was only wearing thin ballet flats; making a quick decision, he dipped down and swept one arm behind her knees while the other circled around under her arms. Rhysa cried out in surprise as he lifted her, curling an arm around Din's neck to steady herself.
It was only a few steps to the register. Din set Rhysa down on top of the counter and retrieved the first aid kit from the cupboard below. Blessedly, it was well-stocked and organized neatly so he was able to find what he was looking for. Out of habit, he rolled on a pair of gloves before wiping the blood away with a square of gauze, probing to make sure there weren't any splinters of glass left behind. Rhysa winced, then sucked in a sharp breath as he cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe. Din would have preferred soap and water but the sink was on the other side of a sea of broken crystal. "Almost done," he promised, spreading a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over Rhysa's palm. "You're doing so well, mesh'la."
He finished by wrapping a length of gauze around her hand and securing it firmly. "Not too tight?"
Rhysa shook her head. "Non. Thank you," she said. She reached up and carded the fingers of her uninjured hand through his hair. "I am lucky you were here."
They stood for a moment, neither willing to break whatever spell had settled over them. Then Rhysa made as if to slide off the counter so she could start to clean up the mess in her back room. Din put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "No, you stay here; I'll take care of it."
"Thank you." Rhysa's hand slid down to cup Din's cheek, then his jaw. She guided him towards her and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Any time," Din replied, cheeks burning as he stepped away to find that Maker-forsaken broom, oblivious to the small, shy smile that crossed Rhysa's face.
