Emergency Contact
Pairing - poly 141 x fem reader
An addition to the Comfortable series - Series Masterlist Here
Warnings - a car accident; talk of broken bones, bruises, blood, stitches. Hospitals. Insecurity, self doubt. Implied smut, nothing graphic. Tons of crying, and lots of big strong men taking care of their sweet girl.
A/N - this is the final addition to this story. It’s been a LONG time since I’ve started this piece, and feels like forever ago since the first chapter. But I’m so so happy to be able to tie this little series up, and I’m hoping this is a pretty enough bow for yall. I’m not sure who all is still lingering around these parts, but thank you in advance if you read this <3
——
Price checks his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. “Should we call her?”
They were already eager for you to get home, but that eagerness is quickly shifting to anxiety the later it becomes. You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, pizza in hand for a date-night in.
The men had kept their promise to take it easy, to follow your lead; understanding how overwhelming the last few months must have been, learning to be the fifth person in an already established and complex relationship. Even more overwhelming to be the lone woman.
But still, the five of you have found a rhythm. Effortlessly falling into their respective roles, the four of them guiding you, navigating you around the bend of friendship into something more. Something comfortable, something meant to be.
Gaz shakes his head at the captain’s question. “No, I’ll just text her, but I’m sure she just got caught up at work or something…” Even as he says the words, worry tugs at his core, pulling taut. He shoots you a simple text - underplays it, only asking for your ETA - as Soap tosses himself over the back of the couch, legs landing heavy across his lap eliciting a soft oof, offering his open bag of crisps to Kyle.
He tries to redirect his thoughts. He’s already checked your location earlier, he needs to stop obsessing. You’re alright, just running a bit behind. You’re fine, he tells himself, listening to Johnny complain about the delays on the bus ride over. He lets himself be soothed by the other men’s presence, their voices, their touch. Finally getting looped into a game of cards while the TV drones on. They’re just starting their second round when Kyle’s phone vibrates under his leg. Barely glancing at it enough to see that it’s not you. He’s just getting ready to decline the call, when he catches the Caller ID reading for one of the local hospitals.
Instantly, the worry knots in his stomach, the noise in the room amplified by the rushing in his ears as he feels his face drain of blood.
“Hold on. Everyone shut the fuck up for a second,” he snaps, giving them all but three seconds to stop talking before he answers the call, Simon reaching to mute the television.
The three men share confused glances when he confirms his first and last name to the person on the other line, quickly turning concerned when his eyebrows go from furrowed to raised, his eyes widening as he listens to whoever is on the other line.
“Fuck, is she - Get off! Sorry- sorry, ma’am, is she okay?” He’s scrambling, shoving Johnny off of him, nearly getting tripped up in the blanket that was laid over the two of them. “No, no, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m coming please. Thank you, miss.”
He turns, eyes searching, finally settling on his wallet and keys on the kitchen counter. The others barely have time to get to their feet before he snatches them up and begins making his way to the door.
“Gaz, wait, just stop.” Soap intercepts his path, a firm hand on his chest, blue eyes alight with concern. “Where are ye going?
He quickly says your name, as if that’s all the explanation required.
“Did something happen? Is she’s hurt? Where is she? What did they say?” Johnny rattles off the questions, blocking each attempt Kyle makes to pass him.
“Bloody move, Soap!”
“Hey! Easy now, both o’ you.” The authority in Price’s voice causes him to snap his mouth shut, Johnny stepping back, Kyle’s hands falling off of his shoulders, so the older man can speak instead. “Kyle, wait. What do you know?”
“There was an accide-“ his voice cracks. Brown eyes darting from the man in front of him to Simon standing just outside the dining room. Stability and guidance personified, the two of them. Simon nods, prompting him to try again. He does, clearing his throat first. “There was an accident. Said her car’s totaled- I have to go to her.”
A single nod, and Price swallows slow before responding. “We all will. But first off, is she broken? Do you know how bad it was?” He wears a captain’s expression, but through the strength and confidence, Kyle can see the worry in his partner’s eyes. He doesn’t mention it.
Instead, he just shakes his head, mumbling that he doesn’t know. “She’s getting an X-ray, some stitches, but they can’t tell me much else until I get there.”
“Right. Well, let’s go check in on our girl, hmm?” He softly tilts his jaw with his knuckles, reeling him in for a kiss, grounding reassurance in the touch, before releasing him and shooing the sergeant’s from the flat. Price pauses in the doorway, voice low as he addresses Ghost. “You good to drive?”
Simon can see the deeper questions in his captain’s eyes, ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Can you stay steady for our boys? For our girl?’ The answer is immediate.
“Yessir.”
-
You push yourself up to sit when the curtain shoves aside. John and Kyle both freeze as they take in the sight of you on the small hospital bed - the cast on your leg, the bruises from the seatbelt just beginning to bloom along your collarbone and chest. They can only assume the marks continue on under your blood-stained tank top. Their hearts ache as their eyes travel higher, to the bandage over your brow, then settling on your eyes, wide and glossy.
Guilt fills you at the sight of them. That bitter emotion was first felt in your youth, stitched into you in your teens, and never allowed to be forgotten in adulthood. It’s now become a semi-natural response to your needs even being acknowledged. Your lips pull into a deep frown, your voice hushed when you ask, “You really came? Both of you?”
The last thing you wanted was to put anyone out, make them go out of their way. There’s a part of you that reprimands yourself for burdening them, causing them to run across town to be here with you. But there’s another part of you, small and fragile, that shatters when they move as one, crossing the small room to be at your side. You choke on a sob as John leans over to pull you in for a kiss, his thumb brushing gently over the column of your throat. His touch lingers even we he pulls away from your lips.
“Of course we came. We all did. Didn’t think we’d leave you all alone, did you?” You barely shake your head, but still he beams, presses another kiss to your nose. “Atta girl.”
You glance behind him, toward the hallway. “Where’s-“
“In the waiting room. They said only two at a time.” John’s eyes crinkle with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
You nod, throat tight as you say, “S’okay.”
He brushes your hair back, guiding your face so he can get a closer look at your forehead.
He coos, “Oh, it’ll heal just fine, that. If not, you can always nick one of Simon’s masks, yeah?” After a pause, when he realizes he won’t succeed in getting you to smile, he sighs. Rough thumb brushing over your cheek. “You scared us, you know that?”
“I know, I’m so sorry. I swear it was clear. I know the light was green,” you lock eyes with Kyle. Still silent and unmoving by the foot of the bed, hands fisted at his sides, his face unreadable. A heaviness washes over you in a wave, and you panic.
You have to convince them it was truly an accident. They have to know you wouldn’t have called unless it was necessary. Wouldn’t have burdened them without reasonable cause.
You sit up more, wincing slightly when you put weight on your leg. “The cops even confirmed it was green, the light. The truck just - they just came out of nowhere, he was going so fast, and by the time I saw him - and I’m so, so-“
“Shh, hey. Take a breath.” Large hands wrap around yours, John’s warmth thawing your frozen fingers, lips moving against your knuckles as he talks. “You’re safe, it’s okay. No reason to apologize.” Blue eyes follow your gaze. He sighs again. “Right, Garrick?”
The emphasis on his name and the pointed look seem to snap him out of his mind - lips pursing for just a moment before shaking his head and moving to your side as John steps back.
“Right. Right, sorry.” He, too, brushes over your cheek, his eyes darting across your face, never stilling in one place for too long. “Everything’s okay. You’re alright.”
The nurse peaks her head in, and John straightens, clapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as he excuses himself to discuss care and getting you discharged. In the quiet, the atmosphere thickens, both of you struck with the weight of all the ways this could have been so much worse. But everything, even the aches and pains - dulled from medication as they are - vanish completely as Kyle’s lips meet yours.
It’s sweet, at first. Tender and delicate. With his lips just slotted between yours, the tip of your nose cool against his cheek. He lets himself feel you, convince himself that all of the worst case scenarios he flipped through in his mind on the way over were just make believe. That you’re okay, a little banged up, but awake and aware.
Alive.
His eyelids screw tighter as he tastes the salt of tears on your lips. The reminder of your tears, your pain, and your fear all coalesce, feeding the desperation and worry still coursing through him.
The kiss turns harsh, his hand pushing on the back of your head, noses smashed, his teeth clacking against yours. You whimper, tired and drained, and beautiful, and he wishes he could swallow you whole. Keep you inside his chest, where it’s warm and safe. The wet heat of your tongue on his fights against the clinical chill in the room, reminding him where he is.
God, he just wishes he could have kept you safe.
Your fingers wrap around his wrist, softening his hold, your other palm pressed against his racing heart, pushing him back slightly so you can breathe.
He knows you’re still reeling; shock waning now, pain dampened, but not enough to provide clarity to your thoughts. He knows your logic is obscured by emotion by how you bury in and hiccup your next words against his neck, your head on his shoulder.
“I was so scared, Ky. You know I love you, don’t you? I love all of you so fucking much.”
He knows - Kyle knows - it was likely an accident. They’ve all seen it before, haven’t they? Residual fear from a close-call causing a false confession to fall from a person’s lips. He fucking knows, and yet… his heart stutters, his breath catching in his chest just the same. He almost says it back, the words balanced on the tip of his tongue like a snowflake, delicate and special, searching for somewhere solid to land.
Someone across the room clears their throat. Price stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes cutting to your leg before meeting the sergeant’s eyes, shaking his head.
He nods, the words melting away with the cautionary look.
“Just need you to sign your papers and we’re good to go, love.” John hides the pitying look on his face with a chipper tone.
Kyle doesn’t turn to look at him again, instead sealing a kiss to your hairline, huffing out a warm sigh against your skin. “Let’s get you home, sweets.”
-
As it turns out, you had no need for the crutches the hospital provided. Johnny kept a strong hold on your waist, supporting your weight enough for you to hobble to the car. He tried insisting on carrying you the whole way, but this was the compromise. Much to your relief. You were already hyper-aware of the eyes following you and the four large men out of the building- you didn’t need the added humiliation of being carried out bridal style.
Back home though, your argument fell on deaf ears. You knew it would. Your endearing, stubborn, Scotsman getting his way, carrying you up the flight of stairs, straight to your bedroom.
“Don’t go anywhere, now.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes and he grins, tucking you into the covers, the pillows already propping you up against the headboard, another being used to elevate your injured leg. His hands linger at your hips, his thumbs stroking the softness there. His smile shifts, concerned, his head tilting.
“Got yer water, remote, charger. What else d’ye need, hm? I can make ye a bite. Gaz is about to start dinner, though, so maybe not. I - um, I can get ye more meds in…” he turns to look at your clock, sighing, “like a half hour…”
“I’m okay right now. I think.” The bitter emotions you felt earlier have mostly subsided. The time spent with the four of them quelling the panic and worry, replacing most of the fear with a sleepy sense of safety and security. Comfort. Though you can still feel the needle prick of guilt in the back of your mind. The feeling of “too much” settling into the fibers of your being.
“Ah. Well, that’s good, then.” He squeezes your arm, still smiling, still comforting, though you can tell he’s also still disappointed. Aching to be of assistance, to make you feel better however he can.
He’s not your ex, you remind yourself. He wants to help you, they all do, no matter how hard it is for you to ask for it. He wants to.
And you don’t want to disappoint him, do you?
“Actually…” you hold in a breath, fiddling with the braided bracelet on his wrist. “Will you kiss me?” You ask quietly, as if asking him to keep a secret, and he laughs, the sound settling warm in your chest beside your nervousness.
“Y’want a kiss? Tha’s all?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughs again at the nicety, tucking your hair behind your ear. “So polite. Who could say no to that?” Your cheeks ache and ears burn from the tone of his voice - honey and smoke, sweet and addicting as he is.
Kissing him is still a bit overwhelming. With Kyle you can tell he always keeps a bit of his restraint intact, always holds at least a speck of control. Not with Johnny. No, he’s all in, hands moving your face to just the right angle, his tongue hot and desperate in its search for yours. He’s commanding and subservient all at once; bending to your will, and molding you to his.
Your fingers curl into his hair like you know he likes, his tongue licking along your teeth as he hums at the touch. You try to pull him closer, pull him onto the bed with you. He starts to obey, wanting just as badly to be closer to you but his foot bumps the cast on your leg and he winces when you hiss at the contact, slowing peeling away from you. But he stays bent at the waist, his palm still against your jaw, his forehead to yours.
“Can’t be climbin’ on top of ye in this state. Broken and all. Ye know that.” You nod, wanting to apologize for adding another hindrance onto the pile of trouble today. He gives you a quick peck, and huffs as he stands, hands on his hips. “What else can I do?”
There’s a moment, after you shrug dejectedly, where you expect him to turn. To leave you in here alone, to seek out one of the others to put up with you. Instead, he shrugs too, decisive.
“Right. Scootin’ on down then.” There’s plenty of room on the bed, yet Johnny wraps one hand around your waist, the other gripping under your thigh and pulls you closer to the edge before rounding the bed, and climbing in beside you. Opposite of your injured leg. He lifts his arm, head dipping to the side. Inviting. “Come on, now.”
Immediately, you settle in. Wrapping your arms around his waist, his chin resting on your head, and you breathe deep. You’re still getting used to it all; having four people who feel like home. You’d gotten used to Kyle being that person long ago. Blamed it on your living situation, just him earning the title by association alone, spent too long pretending that’s all it was. It wasn’t until he’d kissed you for the first time that you realized it was much deeper than that.
And it wasn’t until the first time he planted himself inside you - promising to care for you, to help the other’s care for you, in time - that you realized how deeply you were in it, with all of them. And the time did come, for him to help them take you.
Held your hand and guided their touch. His praising words ringing louder than the moans echoing in the dark. He stayed because you’d asked him to, those first individual times.
It wasn’t for a lack of trust in them. More a reminder for how it all started. There’s no denying that you are their’s and that they’re all yours now… but you were Kyle’s first. Always will be. In the same way that Johnny is Simon’s, and Simon is Price’s.
The love is the same, strong and all-consuming; the connection is just deeper, your souls more tightly woven together by that delicate, destiny-defining red string.
Is it so delicate, you wonder, that it can snap just by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time?
Was it the wrong thing if it was true? Honesty, that’s what Kyle had said to you. That this, them, “us”, would only work if you were always honest with each other, if there was open communication at all times. So why wouldn’t he say anything back to you when you said you love them? Did he think you were lying?
Or did he think you couldn’t handle his truth? That, maybe, honestly, he knows there was never enough love to go around?
The thought tangles in your throat, weaves its way between your sore ribs. Hooks and knots and threatens to hang you by its own length. Your eyes sting again, stomach churning. You’re not sure when the tears started, but somehow you’re successful at keeping them secret from Johnny, hidden in his arms.
You’re jerked out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. Simon steps in, leaving the door open and the smell of cooking wafts into your room. It only takes him a few steps before he’s at your side, but you don’t move out of Johnny’s hold, instead turning in further, hiding your face. But this is Simon. Big hand brushing your hair up and back, guiding you - forcing you - to look up by the back of your head.
“Why’re you cryin’?”
You stick your chin up, staring him down as you sniffle and squeak, “I’m not.”
“Bullshit.”
“Oi,” Johnny warns him. “She’s had a shite day.” Soothing you by rubbing up and down your arm.
But he just shakes his head, pushing again, as he dips closer to your face.
“I said, why are you crying, sweet’eart?” This approach is softer. Soft enough that it nearly rips the last of your composure from your fingers.
You don’t want to disappoint them, so you hide again, yanking from Simon’s grip, mumbling that you’re “just tired,” into Johnny’s chest.
It’s tangible; the weight of a silent conversation over your head. You can feel the hold on you tighten, Johnny’s head tilting low, and he tries to sit up straighter. There’s a beat of silence, Simon sighs, kisses your temple before retreating with heavy footsteps.
“Hey,” he calls down the hallway, half turned to the empty corridor, but keeping his eyes locked on you.
He watches you scramble to sit up, separating yourself to wipe away the tears you just denied. “Si, no, don’t bother them. It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”
His eyes flick up, to Johnny, and back down. Some calculated comprehension crosses his face, levels you. He calls down the hall again, holding your gaze. “We need a family meeting.”
You start to protest again, whining, but being the bastard he is, Johnny grabs your wrist and keeps you pinned. Though, you suppose bitterly, you can’t exactly run and hide in the bathroom this time, can you?
“What’s wrong?” John is the one to ask this time, scanning the room, waiting for someone to fill him in. They all turn to you - turn on you - but you pretend they don’t, looking back down at your hands with blurry eyes.
“She’s crying, upset. Not hurt, or ‘tired’ like she said.” You wanna tell him off, that he can’t possibly know the differences in how you cry, you’re not a fucking infant. But, again, this is Simon. And he’s right, after all. So you keep your mouth shut.
“What’s wrong then, sweetie?”
“It was just a bad day. I’m tired, and I’m hurt- It’s… nothing...” You trail off as you make the mistake of looking up from the duvet, catching Kyle’s eye instead of John’s like you’d intended. He looks… upset too.
Pitying.
Guilty.
He steps closer, taking Simon’s place.
“Sweets,“ - he brings his hand to the side of your neck, thumb stroking the shell of your ear - “Will you talk to me? Please.”
Déjà vu was never an experience you enjoyed, even worse when it’s tied in with ringing humiliation. And all at once, you’re back in time, all those months ago. Standing in your doorway, your hair is dripping wet, your feet aching, your eyes burning something awful, and you’re all too worried of embarrassing Kyle, your roommate, your best friend… now your boyfriend.
“You didn’t say anything.” It’s just a whisper, but you know he heard you when he sucks in a slow breath, and you brace for the worst.
Johnny slips his fingers between yours, Simon sends a questioning look to John, who responds with his hand flexing down at his side. ‘Wait.’
“Love, I- I didn’t know how to respond. I thought… You were-“ he sighs again, removing his hand to squat in front of you, his eyes cutting to your cast, his fingers hesitating before tracing the top of it by your knee. “You meant it?”
It throws you. Not just his question, but the anxiety behind it. Like he’s prepared for you tell him ‘no’, to say that the reason you’re upset is because you truly regret speaking those three words.
He can’t possibly believe that, can he?
“Of course I did. I meant every bit of it.”
He lets out a noise at that, something quiet and relieved. When he looks up again, he swallows, his voice tight, when he asks, “Won’t you tell me again?”
With a quiver in your voice, and your eyes squeezed shut, you sigh, “I love you.”
There’s a half moment of silence but it’s interrupted by a low, gravelly sound. A laugh. Simon’s. Striking enough curiosity to get you to open your eyes to look up at him. He only shakes his head, regarding you with an adoringly fed-up look. He flicks two fingers in a shooing gesture, prompting you to focus on Kyle.
“I love you, too.” He’s grinning, beautiful and boyish, still squatting beside your bedside while the rest of them look on at you with soft eyes.
Johnny squeezes your hand before bringing it up to his lips.
“I think it’s safe to say, we’re all head over heels for ye, our sweet hen.”
“You are?”
“We are. You make it bloody hard not to be.” Simon almost sounds exasperated, but you can feel the fondness laced behind his tone more than you can hear it.
Kyle stands, tilting your face up, aching at how devastatingly beautiful you look in this light, in this moment. With a bandage that will definitely need changing before bed, puffy cheeks glistening with your tears, your wide eyes rimmed in red, bruises peaking out from underneath a fluffy sweater. A picture of strength and sensitivity and sweetness.
He presses a kiss to the middle of your forehead, “I”. Another on the tip of your nose, “have”, your left cheek, “always”, the right, “always… loved you.” The last two words are breathed against your lips.
Once again, he tries to flood all he’s felt today into the kiss. The worry, the fear. The relief, and the guilt. Guilt from not showing up sooner, for not responding the first time you poured your heart out. For making you feel that he isn’t completely and utterly devoted to you.
An alarm beeps from the kitchen, and the moment drifts, thick and billowy. Like smoke from a chimney after a blizzard, hinting to a sheltered type of comforting warmth that only comes from being tended to, cared for.
“Can we have dinner in here tonight?”
John chuckles at your question, nods his head. “You’re in charge, sweetheart.” He plants a scruffy kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room.
After dinner, and another dose of pain medicine, Simon takes over helping you get ready for bed. He’s got you propped up on the bathroom counter, standing between your legs. He’s being so careful not bump into your cast, or to apply too much pressure near your wounds as he washes your face.
It’s hard not to let your eyes droop as he works, fixing your hair how you like it for bed. He brushes a thumb over the new bandaid over your brow, blond eyelashes fluttering as he traces the movement.
It’s nice. Peaceful, in a way that’s rare with the five of you. He had his reservations with you, once upon a time. But now he hoards these quiet moments with you when he can.
“How’re you feelin’, sweet girl?”
“I’m okay. Just getting sleepy.” You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. He assumed as much, he’s been prescribed the same medication you’re on. He’s shocked you’re still - mostly - upright. “Thank you for takin’ care of me.”
He grunts his dismissal, foreheads together, your breaths mingling as he speaks. “Like we don’t make you hop around, taking care of us all the damn time. At least now, you don’t have a choice. This” he reaches behind him to tap your cast, before sliding up until his hand rests on your waist, the other coming to cup your cheek, “will be how we keep you sat down, so we can love on you, and fix you up for a change.”
With a giggle, you leave a peck to the corner of his mouth. “Oh god. You gonna hand feed me, and carry me everywhere for the next 8 weeks, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Straight from my palm,” he deadpans, pinching the fold at your waist, laying his own kiss to your lips. “Let Soap do the heavy lifting though. He likes it… y’ask me, I think it’s somethin’ to do with his height. Lil man, likes to prove he’s tough.”
“I’m telling.”
“I hope you do.”
“You’re awful.”
“But you love me, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, it’s right.” He leans back just slightly, just enough for you to see to a matching smile on his face.
The touch on your face drops, his thumb and two fingers spinning the beads on your necklace. The one you made with Johnny and Kyle. Yours with two blue beads, two brown; their bracelets with four intricately braided strands of similarly-dyed leather. Simon remembers you holding his face in the middle of that craft store, making him squat down and tilt his head up to the obnoxious buzzing fluorescent lights. Just so you could compare several different strings of mud colored beads to his eyes.
You finally settled on one that he said just looked dull - matte in finish, littered with craters not unlike his skin, nearly black in some spots, but you insisted it was perfect.
He was significantly less patient with the boys while they fussed over finding the right color.
“That was the first thing I checked for, before I even knew what really happened.” He drags his eyes back up, laying his palm flat over the jewelry as you continue in a hushed tone. “I was so worried. I was scared it might have broken from the seatbelt or something.”
He nods, “I’m glad to see it didn’t.”
“Me too…” you yawn, leaning against his chest. “I was thankful to have something of each of you. Made it easier., less scary.”
“ ‘M sure it did, sweet girl.” A sleepy hum is all he gets after that. Resting his chin on top of your head for just a second, taking in the sight of you wrapped around him in the mirror behind you. He takes just a moment to cherish it. Keeping you in this little bubble before he gets to share you again. He tugs you closer to the edge. You whine as he moves to wrap your thighs more securely around his waist. “Shush, we’re just going to bed.”
“M’kay, Si.”
It takes a bit of maneuvering to through the doorways - with your combined width, and your casted-leg sticking out - but he manages to make his way back to the bedroom. Price is already settled in your bed, reading glasses perched on his nose. He sets his book down, clearing a space for Simon to lay you down beside him.
John laughs softly as you curl into his side, “Sleepy, are you?”
“Yessir… been a big day.” You echo the words you used to downplay your tears earlier, peaking up at him owlishly before letting your eyes slip closed.
“That is has, sweetheart. That it has.”
You let yourself rest in his arms, only rousing enough to give a kiss goodnight to Simon, Johnny, and Kyle as they each find their place in the crowded bed.
Somewhere in the haze between consciousness and deep sleep, you hear a quiet conversation about John’s house in the woods needing some more work, but almost being ready for you, for all of you. The promise of a bigger bed, a place for you all to call home. Somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe. Somewhere filled with love.
——
Tagging @talesofthepinktape @unidentified-cadaver @dutiful-wildcraft (I lost track of anyone who previously asked to be tagged, I’m so sorry.) (also my beloved Simpy, I hope this finds you well, dear. As always, thank you for your patience <3)