the only painkiller i need | bob reynolds x oc
SUMMARY: Bob Reynolds meets the nurse assigned to take care of him and finds himself smitten.
WARNINGS: nurse!oc, inaccurate medical stuff, discussions of food and lack of appetite, touch starved bob, one vague smut reference. strictly 18+/minors dni
WORD COUNT: 2k
A/N: Lewis was so damn good in Thunderbolts that I simply could not help myself, so here I am with my first Bob Reynolds fic. Enjoy!
CREDIT: In fic divider by @saradika-graphics
His eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the lights above his head. He’s in the same large bed as last time he woke up, still wearing a grey sweatshirt, but something’s tugging at the skin of his hand.
He casts his eyes to the left and finds there’s someone in the room with him. It’s not that dark-haired woman from before. Valerie, he thinks her name was. No, this is someone else. A nurse, he realizes. She’s young, probably around his age, and she’s humming. The tune is unfamiliar but pleasant. It settles his nerves somewhat. She’s fiddling with an IV bag, maybe checking if the dosage is correct.
She hasn’t noticed he’s awake yet, so he turns his head a little and watches her for a moment. She’s wearing navy blue scrubs, a cream white long-sleeved top underneath for warmth, probably because it’s cold in the facility. She wears a small gold watch around her wrist, and a gold ring with a spiral design adorns her slender index finger.
“Where is she?”
The nurse screams. Actually screams. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth, her pale skin going pink as she turns to look at him. Her wide eyes are somewhere between blue and green, and the blush makes her freckles stand out. They’re all over.
“Mr. Reynolds, you scared me.” She says, removing her hands from her mouth and pressing one against her chest where her heart is likely beating rapidly. Her lips are parted, breathing heavily.
“Sorry,” he mutters and looks away. Her eyes are too intense. “Where’s the woman?”
He’s not looking at her, but he senses her confusion. “Valentina?” He nods. That was her name, not Valerie. “She’s working on something else right now.”
He nods again. Tries to wring his hands, but something pulls at his skin, making him hiss. He looks down and finds a needle stuck in his vein and tape on top. He glances up at the nurse, who is typing something on a tablet.
“What’s this?” He asks and lifts his hand a little.
She looks at him with a warm smile that immediately sets him at ease. He tries to smile back, but he must be messing it up if the deepening crease between her brows is anything to go by.
“It’s just fluids,” she answers and sets the tablet down, turning to give him her full attention. “You’re dehydrated and a little anemic. I’m treating with an IV for hydration and an iron supplement to get your hemoglobin levels up.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he’s looking at her hair. It’s not red but not quite blonde either, and the strands of her braids alternate color in the woven pattern. It looks like the early morning sky when the sun’s just about to break over the horizon.
She looks at her tablet some more, checking things off and writing notes. He can’t stop staring and every time their eyes meet, he quickly looks away, but he can see her smiling in his periphery.
“Alright,” she says after a few minutes of this. “You’re all set. I’ll be back with something to eat and the iron supplement. It’s important you take it, Mr. Reynolds.”
He grimaces. Being called Mr. Reynolds makes him feel wrong, too much like his father. Bob sees her head tilt to the side, eyes trained on him, but she doesn’t say anything. Shaking her head slightly, she gathers her tablet and stethoscope and goes to leave. Her hand reaches for the door, and just as her fingertips touch the handle, his voice carries across the room.
“Wait!”
He flinches at the sound, unintentionally loud and desperate. She turns around to face him, but where he expected to see fear, he only sees concern. She’s smiling at him again and he feels a little unsteady.
“What’s your name?”
Her smile widens, and it’s like the sun after a long storm. It lights up the room more than the yellow glow of the lamps, making something in his stomach flutter and his cheeks feel warm.
“Andie,” she tells him. “Well, Andromeda, but it’s a mouthful, so everyone just calls me Andie.”
“Andie,” he says, trying it out and liking the way it rolls off his tongue. It suits her, he thinks.
“I’m Bob.” He inwardly cringes, hating how awkward and small his own voice sounds, but Andie doesn’t seem to notice or mind. She looks straight into his eyes and still her smile doesn’t falter.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bob.”
He’s not sure how much time passes, but she comes back like she promised.
She nudges the door open with her hip and comes in carrying a tray heaped with an assortment of food. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a bit of everything.”
He watches her set the tray down on the table between two comfortable-looking chairs and then almost panics when she starts to leave.
“Please stay!”
He cringes again. This is the second time in as many meetings that he’s shouted at her from across the room. She must think he’s a weirdo, and the thought of that makes him want to crawl under the covers and never come back out. But he forces himself to look up and meet her eyes.
Somehow, she’s still here and smiling at him. “Please,” he begs pathetically. “Please stay. I could use some company.”
She grins, and it’s like looking at the sun. “I was just closing the door.”
Heat flushes his cheeks. “Oh.”
She closes the door and crosses back to the table, taking a seat in the chair closest to her. Bob hesitates. Something about Valentina made his skin itch, but he feels none of that with Andie and he’s not sure why. A part of him doesn’t trust it, but he joins her. His appetite is questionable, but he knows he needs sustenance.
The tray is filled with all kinds of breakfast food. A stack of fluffy pancakes with a small jug of maple syrup to pour over it, chopped fruit, and a pile of toasted bread with various spread offerings. Juice and coffee too, if the smell of dark roast is anything to go by. His eyes catch on the tiny paper cup that he instantly recognizes, making his stomach drop.
Andie must notice. “It’s the iron supplement for anemia that we talked about,” she tells him. “It’s going to help with some of the dizziness and disorientation. I would never give you something that we hadn’t already discussed.”
Bob looks from the pill cup and up at her. Her face is serious. “You promise?”
The corners of her mouth turn up. “I promise.” He believes her. “Now, dig in.”
He reaches for the orange juice and the little red pill first. He stares at it for a moment, feeling conflicted, but then he looks at Andie, who’s pouring coffee for herself, and he realizes he trusts her. He has no reason to, but he does. So, he tosses the pill in his mouth and downs it with the juice.
He puts the glass down and looks at Andie. “Do you need to check if I’ve swallowed?”
Her eyes widen at the same time as a flush colors her cheeks, and for a second he’s confused until it dawns on him exactly what he said.
His eyes widen, matching hers perfectly. “I meant the pill,” he clarifies, wringing his hands but hissing at the pull on his skin from the IV that’s still in his hand. “I meant if I’d swallowed the pill, not… that. Or anything else. Just the pill.” He’s panic rambling. It’s happened before, but not in the presence of the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. The woman who still hasn’t said a word, but whose cheeks aren’t just pink anymore, but a shade of bright red.
He deflates. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, fully prepared for her to leave and never speak to him again. His silly heart already aches with longing.
“Bob, look at me.” He reluctantly meets her eyes. They look green right now. “It’s okay, I’m sorry too. My thoughts should not have gone there.”
He’s confused. She’s not upset? She’s apologizing to him?
“Hey,” she says, voice softer this time. “I trust you to take the medication we’ve agreed on. I don’t need to check.”
Relief floods his system, leaving him temporarily lightheaded. She looks so genuine, and she’s the first person in a long time who’s let him feel in control of what goes into his body and what doesn’t. That level of autonomy feels foreign, but he doesn’t hate it.
He likes it. He likes that Andie gave it to him.
They eat in companionable silence. Bob eats half a piece of toast with butter and a few grapes, while Andie piles her plate with pancakes, fruit, and two pieces of toast. She drinks a class of orange juice and a second cup of coffee with a splash of milk.
“Not hungry?” she asks after a while, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she chews. There’s no judgement in the way she looks at him.
He shrugs. “Not really.”
Andie hums and straightens her back. “I’ll let it slide,” she tells him and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “But when I come back later, I expect you to eat more. You need to build up your strength.”
“Valentina says I’m already strong.” He sounds pathetic even to his own ears. Like a child.
Andie’s full lips press together in a thin line. “Valentina says a lot of things,” she mutters, disdain in her voice, though he senses it’s not directed at him. She reaches across the table and tray, grasping his hand without the IV and notices her hand is so much smaller than his. There are freckles on it just like the ones on her face. He wants to trace them with his fingertips. With his lips too.
She looks right into his eyes, making him audibly swallow. “You are strong, Bob,” she assures him, voice sincere and intense. “But there’s a difference between superpower strong and normal healthy strength. I’m here to help with the second part.”
The skin on his hand tingles and his body feels hot all over. He stares down at their hands, turning his hand over so her palm meets his. He expects her to pull back, but she doesn’t, and when he lifts his gaze to her, her pretty lips are parted.
For a moment, they just look at each other. Bob watches color flush her cheeks and the strands of wavy hair that have come loose from her braids. She’s watching him too, but he doesn’t shy away from it like he normally would.
She offers him a soft smile, then stands and gestures to the tray. “All done?” He nods, standing too.
His heart races as she rearranges things on the breakfast tray. He can hear the blood pumping through his veins as his pulse quickens. He doesn’t want her to go. He doesn’t want to be alone again, alone with his thoughts. The self-doubt that’s been his constant companion since childhood is mostly quiet when she’s in the room.
“Alright,” she says and hoists the tray up in her arms, completely oblivious to Bob’s internal crisis. “I’ll be back a bit later to check on your IV. Can I get you to open the door for me?”
“Sure,” he mumbles and shuffles past her, arm brushing against her shoulder. Even the quick touch through clothing sends a jolt of electricity up his spine. He grabs the handle and pulls the door open.
“Thank you.” She stops next to him and offers him a smile. “And thank you for having breakfast with me.”
It sounds like a date when she puts it like that, and even though he knows that’s ridiculous, it makes heat rush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
He tucks his chin against his chest and mutters a low, “you’re welcome.”
She disappears out the door, taking what little light there was in the room with her.
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