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“It was an accident, I swear!”
Kurt Hummel glared at the boy currently wringing his hands in front of him. No matter how often Liam had proclaimed his innocence, Kurt wasn't any more inclined to believe him than when Liam had first said it.
“You tripped me,” he hissed, glaring daggers at his understudy. “I fail to see how that could have been an accident.”
The boy grimaced. “I didn't mean to, really. I just-”
“You just what? Your foot just conveniently got in the way of mine and thought it would be a good idea to get acquainted?” Kurt was furious and in pain and this could not be happening to him. Not right now, of all times.
“Well congratulations. Now you'll get what you wanted all along.”
Kurt bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bursting into tears. He'd worked his ass off to get the role. It was his first big one on Broadway and he'd rehearsed for months and months until it was perfect and then this little worm came around and tripped him and now he couldn't walk properly anymore and it just wasn't fair!
“I wasn't...” Liam started but Kurt's glare stopped him and he flinched.
“Oh don't pretend you didn't know I couldn't very well hobble around the stage and are not secretly ecstatic to substitute for me.” Kurt leveled one last glare at the boy before he resolutely turned his head and stared at the curtain separating him from the rest of the ER. At least the idiot had enough of a heart left in him to drive Kurt to the hospital right away. God, he hoped nothing was broken. He would lose the role for sure if that was the case.
He was in the middle of painting the darkest possible picture when the curtain swung away to reveal a young man in a white lab coat. That would be his doctor then, he presumed.
“Kurt Hummel?” he asked with a pleasant voice, looking first at his clipboard and then at the both of them. Deciding that Kurt must be the one sitting on the hospital bed, he held out his hand and said, “Dr. Anderson. I'll be your doctor for today.”
Kurt blinked, a little dazed, and shook his hand automatically. A small smile curled around Dr. Anderson's lips before he set his clipboard down on the bed and went over to the cabinets to retrieve a pair of latex gloves.
“So what happened?” he asked, back turned.
“He tripped me,” Kurt said instantly, glaring again at Liam who curled in on himself. Dr. Anderson turned, saw Kurt's death glare and frowned.
“Why don't you wait outside?” he said after a short silence, nodding his head in the direction of the waiting area. Liam visibly deflated and almost ran from the curtained area. Dr. Anderson blinked, obviously a little taken aback, but went and closed the curtain again. He retrieved a stool, wheeled it over and sat down in front of Kurt.
“So is he your boyfriend?” he asked casually, solemn hazel eyes looking patiently at Kurt as if to reassure him that he could tell him if Kurt was a victim of abuse. He bit his lip, suddenly aware how much of a spectacle he'd made out of himself and that, yeah, his doctor was nice and kind of hot. And pretty young.
“Hardly,” he replied with a sniff and when the doctor smiled in amusement and reached out to touch his injured ankle, Kurt drew back automatically. “Aren't you a little young to be a doctor?”
Dr. Anderson's hands stopped in midair. He raised one eyebrow and stared at Kurt, either not knowing what to say in response to such a rude question or too amused to reply. Kurt wasn't quite sure which one he preferred.
“I'm an intern, actually,” he finally replied. “Second year. I'm on ER rotation right now.”
“Why isn't there a supervisor or... or a senior resident or whatever they’re called?” Kurt asked, panic making his voice higher than it already was and God he wasn't usually that much of a drama queen but his career was at stake here. A little professionalism was clearly not too much to ask for, was it?
Now Dr. Anderson was definitely amused if the small smile he tried to suppress was any indication. Kurt felt like an idiot but seriously, career at stake!
“They keep us on a longer leash after the first year,” Dr. Anderson replied after a moment. “And right now we're a bit swamped in case you haven't noticed.” Kurt had, actually, but ERs were always swamped, right?
“On days like today they give us even more leeway. But don't worry.” Dr. Anderson leaned forward and stage whispered, “I'm very good at what I do.”
“That's what he said,” Kurt mumbled and only realized what he'd said when Dr. Anderson blinked at him, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Kurt promptly turned red all over. God, sometimes he hated his fair complexion.
“That... came out wrong,” he apologized, willing his blush away. Dr. Anderson just waved his hand, a clear dismissal and reached out again.
“May I have a look at your ankle now?”
Wow, for a doctor working the overcrowded ER, he was unfailingly polite. Kurt nodded and bit his lip, anticipating the inevitable pain. It did hurt, but not as much as Kurt had expected. Dr. Anderson's hands were surprisingly gentle while they prodded at his ankle, which had developed an ugly blue/purple coloring by now. Dr. Anderson's concentration was solely on his ankle so Kurt startled when he spoke.
“How did you say this happened again?”
Kurt stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the weird mixture of pain and confused pleasure at Dr. Anderson's touch currently churning in his gut.
“My understudy tripped me when I was on my way to the stage for rehearsal,” Kurt replied, wincing when Dr. Anderson rotated his ankle carefully.
He looked up at Kurt and grinned. The weird mixture of feelings in Kurt's gut exploded and he bit his lip to suppress a moan.
“Theater or Broadway?” Dr. Anderson asked, his gaze never leaving Kurt's face.
“Broadway,” he breathed out, not able to stop looking at this cute, adorable, young doctor who was so unfailingly polite that it was a breath of fresh air in a hostile environment like New York.
The grin widened before Dr. Anderson looked down again. “You know, there was a time in my life where I thought I might go into musical theater myself,” he told Kurt, prodding the ankle some more. “Obviously, it didn't work out. At least I made my parents happy with my secondary career choice.”
“Let me guess: you were a prim and proper private school student,” Kurt drawled. Dr. Anderson just oozed old money, for some reason.
“The Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio” he replied without missing a beat, quickly looking up at Kurt with a quick grin. “I was a proud member of their Glee Club as well, if you must know.”
Kurt stared. “Wait, you’re from Ohio?”
“Born and raised,” Dr. Anderson confirmed and suddenly stood up, reaching for his clipboard.
“Looks like you have a very bad sprain, Mr. Hummel-”
“Kurt,” he interrupted and received a puzzled glance. “My dad is Mr. Hummel. Please, it's just Kurt.”
“Okay, Kurt then. Anyway, I'd like to be sure it's nothing more serious so I'll send you up to radiology to get some x-rays done. As soon as I'll have the results we'll talk again, okay? I'll go get the nurse.”
Dr. Anderson took off his gloves and took out a pen from his breast pocket to write something on his clipboard before he turned to leave.
“Wait!” Kurt blurted out and promptly bit his lip, groaning internally. What the hell was wrong with him today? His emotions were all over the place. That hadn't happened to him since he'd been in his teens.
Dr. Anderson turned back around, a question clear on his face. Kurt swallowed.
“How long will I be out of commission?”
Dr. Anderson frowned, absentmindedly putting the pen back into his pocket. “I really can't give you a clear answer to that right now. As I said, I want to have a look at your x-rays first. If it really is a sprain, it will take you a week, maybe two, before you’re allowed to put weight on it again. If you snapped a tendon you won't be able to walk for at least six weeks.”
“Six weeks?” Kurt whispered, paling alarmingly. “I can't stay off my feet for six weeks. My whole career will be wrecked!”
Dr. Anderson rubbed his eyebrow, clearly battling with himself to suppress a sigh. “Listen, Kurt. If you did snap a tendon and don't stay off your feet it won’t heal properly and your career will definitely be wrecked, which would be nobody’s fault but your own. I doubt that producers want you to hobble all over the stage.”
Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Oh god, this day was quickly turning into a complete nightmare.
“Hey.”
He opened his eyes at Dr. Anderson's soothing voice. A small smile played around the doctor's lips. “Wait for the results before you start panicking, okay? I'll be back in a few hours and we'll discuss it then.”
He waited for Kurt's reluctant nod before he drew back the curtain and left.
Three hours and a very, very painful stint in the radiology department later, Kurt was sitting in a treatment room, staring at the x-rays of his ankle while Dr. Anderson explaining to him the different bones, showing him that everything was quite healthy and that it really was just a very bad sprain. He'd get Kurt a suspensory bandage and some crutches to stay off his feet for a week, after which Kurt should come back for a check up during which it would be decided if Kurt could use his foot again or if he should rest for another few days. He would also give him a prescription for some painkillers.
Kurt hadn't really paid much attention after Dr. Anderson had assured him that nothing was broken or snapped and instead watched the man himself. He was such an interesting figure, really. He oozed a calmness and competence that Kurt had very rarely seen in a man his age. He was probably no older than Kurt himself, which put him somewhere in his mid to late twenties, and height wise he was on the short side of the scale but that did nothing to thwart his confidence. He had dark, unruly hair and kind, hazel eyes. And his hands, God his hands. Kurt couldn't stop staring at them, imagining what they could do to and with Kurt.
He bit down on his lip and forced himself to pay attention to Dr. Anderson's words rather than the timbre of his voice. He was just winding down from his explanation and turned to Kurt, giving him a reassuring smile.
“I guess your career is safe for now.”
“I guess,” Kurt replied, still a little dazed.
“Well, then,” Dr. Anderson said, retrieving a new pair of latex gloves and a bandage. Not a minute later he sat down in front of Kurt again, carefully wrapping the ankle up tightly. He didn't say a word, completely focused on what he was doing. Kurt stared down at his bent head, admiring the dark curls tickling the tips of the doctor's ears. He imagined running his hand through the mop of hair, imagined what it would feel like to grip it hard while he thrust into Dr. Anderson's mouth and dark eyes stared up at him, daring him to thrust harder, faster, deeper.
“All done.”
Kurt startled and came back to the present. He felt himself flush at what he'd been thinking about while Dr. Anderson was just doing his job. God, he probably wasn't even gay, and if he was he probably already had a trophy boyfriend somewhere out there adoring him.
“Thank you,” Kurt said quietly, not looking at the doctor. He heard him scribble something, then a ripping sound before a piece of paper came into his line of sight.
“This is the prescription for your pain killers. I'll get a nurse to bring you a pair of crutches. Be sure to come back in a week, okay?”
Kurt nodded and shifted on the bed after taking the prescription. “Thank you,” he repeated, meaning every word. He knew that this whole experience could have been so much worse.
“Don't mention it,” Dr. Anderson replied, smiling at him again before leaving the room. Ten minutes later, a nurse came back in with crutches and let him do a few test runs before deeming Kurt fit to leave. He hobbled out to the waiting area where Liam was reading a magazine. He jumped up from his seat as soon as he noticed Kurt.
Kurt was stunned.
“You've waited here the whole time?” The surprise was evident in his tone and on his face. Liam just shuffled his feet and stared at the floor.
“I couldn't just leave you stranded here, could I? I'll drive you home.”
Kurt stared some more, not sure what to make of this boy. In the end he sighed and hobbled on.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, following Liam to the car. The boy froze slightly before continuing on his way. “It really was an accident, wasn't it?”
Liam looked over his shoulder at Kurt, trying to read his face, before he nodded slowly. Kurt sighed and shook his head.
“Well then, Liam, you'll have a week to fill in for me. Make the most of it.”
Liam stared at him, his mouth open. Then he grinned, bright and sunny. Opening the door for Kurt, he said, “I won't let you down, Kurt. I promise.”
“I know,” Kurt said, easing into the car and giving Liam the crutches. “After all, I trained you.”
Liam continued grinning while stuffing the crutches into the trunk before rounding the car and getting behind the wheel.
Kurt sighed, suddenly immensely tired and in pain. “Just... take me home.”
Nodding, Liam started the car and Kurt closed his eyes, thinking about dashing Dr. Anderson and his fabulous hands all the way home.