#troubledmedic

[walkedthroughfires]

" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "

He looked up at Dimitri, eyes glassy and redrimmed.

"A few days. Thought it was just a cold until yesterday. Then the wheezing started."

Now his chest was starting to rattle and he was starting to run a fever.

[kozach]

@troubledmedic

"Isn't there a way to turn that thing on silent mode?"

He's a complainer. He can't help it. It's what he's been reduced to in his sick days.

He's heard that old people who are mobility-bound get talkative and ornery because muscles want to be moved, and if the legs can't run, the mouth will. He supposes there's some truth to that.

But it's the beep...beep...beep...beep of the heart monitor that's getting to him. It's more than monotony. It feels like there's an undercurrent he can feel just out of sync with the noise, a half-second delay. Like what was inside him could hear it, too.

[honorarystripes]

@troubledmedic

"So today's my birthday and I thought I might invite you along with a bunch of my friends to go to the bar? Does that sound like something you'd be interested in? And before you say why me...well you looked a little lonely out here and I thought I might invite you along."

[drwlf]

"Good morning"

I’m awake before Dmitri, unsure how long I’ve been like this, arm slung over his waist, my chest against his back. But the light’s gone gray-gold at the edges of my blinds, and my hand has gone half-numb from being pinned under him, so it must’ve been a while.

Either way, I don’t move. Not until I can tell the younger man is waking, and I can by the way he shifts, the way his breathing changes. I can feel him come back to himself under my arm as I press my mouth against the back of his neck, into the space below his hairline.

"Good morning."

I murmur, breathing him in. His skin smells of sleep and the remnants of last night’s sweat and cologne, and I linger a second longer than I intended, nose against the top of Dmitri’s spine.

"Want some coffee?"

THE MORNING AFTER

[ed-cowboys]

“  you can’t love me.  not the way i need to be loved.  ”

A stunned look croped up on Robbys features befofe evening out into something harder and unreadable. "Are you fucking with me, this is a joke?" He asked, scoffing a laugh as his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

It was a conversation they had had at the start of all of this, a promise more like for Dmitri to mean this to not get his hopes up. Was it so bad to make sure, to make someone stop and think before they tried to lay claims on him?

"You said you were sure I could two months ago, what the hell changed?"

[pittresilience]

@troubledmedic liked for a starter

The ambulance bay doors slam open just as Jack steps out of Trauma One, the smell of antiseptic and rain mixing together beneath the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Somewhere deeper in the ER, monitors are alarming nonstop while a trauma page echoes across the department for the third time in under twenty minutes. Jack barely seems to notice anymore.

He’s halfway through pulling off a pair of gloves when he catches sight of the unfamiliar physician near the nurses station. New face. Still looks awake enough to have hope.

“That won’t last,” Jack says dryly as he approaches, not bothering to clarify what he means. The corner of his mouth twitches faintly before he offers out a hand. “Jack Abbot. Attending.” His eyes flick briefly toward the chaos unfolding around them—paramedics rolling in another patient, a resident speed-walking past carrying blood tubes, somebody yelling for respiratory from down the hall. “And unless somebody lied to me, you’re Dmitri Kozlov.”

Jack releases his hand after a quick shake before grabbing a tablet abandoned on the counter nearby.

“You picked a hell of a night to start,” he says while skimming over fresh labs populating the screen. “We’re down two nurses, psych’s overflowing, and triage is one bad decision away from open rebellion.” A tired breath leaves him through his nose before he glances back over again, exhaustion sitting heavily beneath his eyes despite the steady calm in his posture.

“You still regretting the transfer, or should I give it another hour?”

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

@troubledmedic liked for a starter

The ED had settled into that strange stretch of the night where exhaustion starts bleeding into everything. The waiting room is still packed, monitors continue chiming nonstop somewhere down the hall, and somebody nearby is arguing loudly about needing a turkey sandwich before discharge.

John is leaning over the nurses station scrolling through labs on a tablet when he finally notices the unfamiliar physician stepping into the department.

“Well,” he says tiredly, straightening slightly, “you either look way too calm to work emergency medicine, or you’re brand new and the department hasn’t broken your spirit yet.”

The corner of his mouth twitches faintly despite the exhaustion sitting beneath his eyes. He shifts the tablet under one arm before offering out a hand. “John Shen,” he says. “Resident. Professional caffeine addict. Occasionally medically useful.” His gaze flicks briefly toward the chaos unfolding deeper in the ER before returning back to Dmitri again. “You surviving your first impression of the Pitt so far?”

[medikdog]

Closed starter for @troubledmedic

"Please tell me we aren't going to be watching trashy movies all night. One or two? Totally fine. But I just wanna let you know I was really hoping to end the night off with a little fun." Theo smirks over from his spot on the couch, holding the bowl of popcorn in his lap. They were now halfway through a second movie that Dmitri had chosen, i was the good kind of trashy that Theo secretly loved. A part of him though was unfortunately distracted despite his best efforts.