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It’s only been a couple of months since he transferred, but Nasir is already starting to feel right at home at Oakensfield Hospital. He had thought he would be lonely so far from home, but his co-workers never really give him a chance. It didn’t take many weeks (if even one) before the rag-tag family the hospital staff make up had as good as adopted him. And Nasir loves them all, he really does, except for the fact that they’re all crazy. Normally, he just rolls with it, like when they’re racing patients’ beds through the corridors or fills the entire long-time ward with colourful balloons, but sometimes he really feels like he needs to put his foot down.

“This man came in after falling down from a roof,” Nasir says, flipping through the journal of a Mr Agron Vogt. “He has abrasions on his face and head and a cracked rib. He may have a concussion. Shouldn’t we have a look at him?”

“Nah, he’s fine,” Spartacus says, sipping his coffee, on his first and in all probability only break this shift.

Spartacus is Head Physician of the emergency department and Nasir should really defer to him on this, but this man fell off a fucking roof. “I really think someone should give him a proper examination. What if he’s punctured a lung?”

“He hasn’t,” Spartacus says. “I gave him a quick run-over. And trust me, nothing can kill that man.”

The journal is admittedly thick, so there may be some truth to that, but Nasir isn’t giving up. He took an oath, dammit.

“So we’re not going to treat him?” he asks, exasperated.

“’Course we are,” Spartacus says, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “I’ve already had Pietros hook him up on some morphine to keep him in bed for a few days.”

“Morphine?” Nasir frowns. “He’s in that much pain?” If so, they should really give him a proper and thorough examination.

“Nah, I doubt it,” Spartacus says. “But if we don’t keep him down, he’ll walk off. And he needs a bit of bed-rest.” Right then a person, covered in blood, is wheeled into the emergency ward on a stretcher. “Well, seems like my break’s over,” Spartacus says, throws the remainder of his coffee in the trash and hurries off.

Nasir really should let it go. Or at least check in with Naevia about it because if there is one sane person running this hospital it’s her, but instead he closes the journal and enters room 382.

The patient is awake, looking around sluggishly. A slow smile spreads over his face when he catches sight of Nasir and Nasir almost takes a step back at the sheer force of it. Even falling off a roof looks good on this guy.

“Hiya, beautiful,” the man says, grinning up at Nasir before Nasir has the chance to introduce himself.

“Yeah, seems like we should lower your morphine dose, huh?” Nasir says, opening the journal to make a note about it.

“When can I go back to work, doc?”

“When that rib of yours is healed,” Nasir replies sternly.

“But that’ll take forever!” The smile is quickly turned into a pout. Nasir cannot help but stare.

“Should have thought of that before you fell off a roof, huh?” he says, putting the journal down. It weighs a ton. “I need to check you over, okay?”

The grin returns. “You could check me out, if you want,” Mr Vogt says with an eyebrow wiggle that Nasir suspects is supposed to come across as suggestive or flirty. It doesn’t.

Nasir examines him efficiently and professionally, doesn’t let his hands linger on Mr Vogt’s ridiculously chiselled abs when he checks his rib.

Spartacus was right – he really is fine for having just fallen off a roof.

“Well, Mr Vogt, you will need some rest, but other than the rib and the scratches, you’re as good as fine.” He almost shakes his head in disbelief.


“What?” Nasir looks up at him. The man’s eyes are green. Very green and very beautiful.

“My name’s Agron, doctor. I want us on a first-name basis, you know. If you know what I mean. You know.” Another doped-up eyebrow-wiggle.

Nasir just shakes his head again. The patients here are as crazy as the staff. There must be something in the water in this town. “Try and get some sleep, okay?” he says. He turns to leave, but then he thinks fuck it, and turns back. “I’m Nasir,” he says and Agron smiles blindingly again.

Right outside the door he runs into one of the nurses. “Donar,” he says, stopping the man in his tracks. “Would you clean and patch up Mr Vogt’s wounds? He’s in room 382.” He indicates the door he just closed with a nod of his head.

For some reason, Donar grins devilishly. “Sure thing, Hakim,” he says and pats Nasir’s shoulder.

Nasir walks off, trying to rid himself of the desire still coiling through him. Gods, that fucking grin. Nasir makes a mental note that he needs to get laid, because apparently his libido has gone as crazy as the rest of this place.


He checks up on Agron later that night, when he finally has some time off from the emergency cases, and finds the man fast asleep, snoring softly. All of the scratches on his face are covered up the Hello Kitty band-aids usually reserved for children. With a sigh, Nasir makes another mental note to have a talk with his co-workers in the morning.




Three weeks later has Nasir stitching up a six inch long cut on Agron’s right calf. He knows by now that Agron is best friends with half of the staff at the hospital, that he works in construction, and that everyone gets more worried about him if he doesn’t show up at the ER at least once every two weeks than if he doesn’t.

“So how this did happen?” Nasir asks as he works, trying to be as gently as possible. Agron can’t feel the pain, but he’ll still feel the tug of the needle and it’s a disconcerting feeling, Nasir knows.

“There was this big-ass fucking nail sticking out of a fucking plank,” Agron mutters.

Nasir glances up briefly from the wound. “Have you gotten your tetanus shot?”

“Yup,” Agron says. “Got it last time this happened.” He’s growing restless; Nasir has to put his hand on his knee to stop him from bouncing the leg. “Oh, sorry, doc.”

The stitching is done soon after that and Agron seems fine so Nasir has no choice but to discharge him.

“Just… try not to get hurt again,” he says, stripping off his gloves.

“I’ll do my best,” Agron says, winking at him. “Though now I’m finally getting some help around here again. The other have stopped taking pity on me.”

“I will too if you keep this up.” Nasir is giving him his best stern doctor-look, but Agron just grins at him again before he leaves.




Nasir is on his way down to emergency after seeing in the log that Agron’s been omitted for a broken arm when he meets Agron in the hallway, his arm in a sling.

“Hi!” he says brightly, as if seeing Nasir totally makes up for a broken bone.

“Here,” Nasir says, putting his hand on Agron’s other arm to steer him into an examination room. “Let me check you over. We should get a cast on that.”

“No, that’s fine,” Agron says. “It was just a bad sprain. Pietros fixed me up.”

Nasir doesn’t trust anyone in this hospital when it comes to Agron. The fact that he is very prone to accidents and heals spectacularly fast is no excuse to be nonchalant about treating him.

Dubious, Nasir says, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, doc. See you soon, okay?” He pats Nasir’s chest once and then he is gone.




Nasir has been accustomed to Agron’s sunny disposition, whether natural or drug-induced, so its somewhat of a chock to enter the examination room and find his face twisted up in pain. He’s bare-chested – the remains of a shirt lie on the floor – and there are angry red burns crossing his right side.

“My gods,” Nasir says, hurrying to his side. “What happened?”

“Some fucking… thingy blew up. Fucking electricians! Told us the power was off. I’ll tear them apart when I get my hands on them!” He growls in pain when Nasir carefully feels the edge of a burn with a fingertip.

According to the journal he’s already been giving something for the pain, but apparently it hasn’t kicked in so Nasir has to wait a little bit to start treating the burns. They look worse than they are – at first glance he had gotten angry because Agron should have been down in the fucking burn ward and not here having to wait for treatment, but upon closer inspection he can see that the actual damage is pretty mild.

“You were lucky,” Nasir remarks, getting out his supplies. The anaesthesia should have started to work soon. “Did anyone get seriously hurt?” He’s guessing yes, judging from Agron’s fury.

“Saxa and Crixus,” he says and closes his eyes as Nasir starts patching him up. “But they’ll be okay. Spartacus said so.”

“Good,” Nasir says emphatically and lets his hand rest on Agron’s uninjured shoulder for a few seconds.




It is only two weeks later when Nasir kisses Agron for the first time. One of the burn marks got infected and Nasir is cleaning it out meticulously and when he looks up, Agron’s face is just right there and without thinking he leans in, feeling Agron’s breath ghost across his lips for a second before their mouths slot together. Closing his eyes, Nasir slowly teases Agron’s lips open, running his tongue along the upper one. Agron makes a small sound, clasping on hand around the back of Nasir’s neck as he delves in deeper, teeth nipping gently.

Reluctantly, Nasir breaks the kiss and pulls back a little bit. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I should… I should finish this up,” he says, because this is his place of employment and he has a job to do.

“Yeah,” Agron replies mindlessly, tipping Nasir’s head up to kiss him again, swiftly and sweetly. “’M so glad you just did that,” he murmurs in Nasir’s ear and heat stirs inside of him at those words.

“Me too,” Nasir says and smiles. “And I’ll do it again if you’ll just let me take care of this, okay?”

Agron nods. “Okay.” He leans back to give Nasir access to his chest.

It’s not too bad, so Nasir just cleans the pus out and tapes it up. “Be careful with it, okay? No more hot tub baths until it’s healed. And be glad it wasn’t worse.”

“Thanks, doc,” Agron says as he stands up. “I might need a house-call later, though. You know, to make sure I’m not dying.”

“Really?” Nasir says, amused by Agron’s abysmal flirtation techniques, as he turns away to clean up the workstation.

“Really.” Agron’s hands are suddenly on his hips, warm against him even through Nasir’s scrubs and white coat. “I’m gonna need a very thorough examination.” He moves closer, his entire body a line of firm warmth against Nasir’s back.

“I’ll send Chadara over,” Nasir says, but the joke is ruined by the light breathlessness in his voice. His whole body is thrumming with want. It has been building up for so long by now. He turns around in Agron’s arms. “I get off at five,” he says. “And then I need to get home and change.”

“I’ll have dinner done by six thirty,” Agron says, already bending down.

They kiss for a long moment, because, fuck it, there’s probably no one at this hospital who would even care.

But eventually Nasir has to step back. “I really need to get back to work,” he says, apologetically. He’d rather stay in here and kiss Agron for the rest of his shift. Hell, for the rest of his life. “Just don’t overtax yourself, okay?” He meant generally and the dinner specifically, but judging from Agron’s grin, his words were interpreted in a completely different fashion.

“I won’t,” Agron says, opening the door. “I promise I’ll have you do all the work. See ya.” He swops in for another kiss, a brief peck, and then he leaves. Nasir can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

“Hey, Hakim, did you sleep with a coat hanger in your mouth?” Lugo yells from the reception and Nasir does not give him the finger because the waiting room is full of people, but he is sorely tempted.




Nasir has just gotten on his shift and logged on to the computer to see how his patients are doing when a name jumps out on the screen and his heart starts beating wildly in his chest.

“He fell of another roof? Why didn’t anyone call me?!” He directs his outbursts to the only person in attendance, which happens to be Chadara.

“He’s okay,” she says, holding up her hands. “There was a bit of internal bleeding, but I stopped it. He’s resting now and will make a full recovery.”

Nasir takes a deep breath. Then another. It doesn’t help much. “Next time just fucking call me,” he growls, slamming his laptop shut too hard and storming off in search of his boyfriend. He’s fuming, but he doesn’t know what he’s most angry about – the fact that Agron fell of a roof again or that nobody felt that the fact that he did was important enough to inform him about. As a doctor he trusts his co-workers to take care of whatever comes through the door to the best of their extent, but when it comes to Agron he isn’t a doctor first and foremost.

The fury must be evident on his face, because despite the fact that the corridor is rather crowded everyone just gives way to him and no one tries to greet him or talk.

But like a plug’s been pulled when he reaches room 395 and Agron is there, awake and jumped up on morphine, his face lighting up at the sight of Nasir and all his anger just drains away.

“Baby!” Agron slurs, an arm falling off the bed in an attempt to reach for him. “Come ‘ere and heal me with your kiss.”

Nasir feels himself relaxing, how his shoulders drop and he is able to breathe properly again as he walks to Agron’s bed and gathers up his hand, tangles their fingers together against his chest.

He bends down, cupping Agron’s cheek with his other hand, thumb stroking across a small scratch, and Agron eagerly reaches up as good as he is able.

“Just don’t do it wrong and turn me into a frog instead,” Agron whispers right before their lips touch and Nasir starts to laugh by kisses him anyway. Agron is not the best of kissers when he’s strung up on morphine, but it doesn’t matter. Nasir just keeps kissing him and thinks I am in love with this man.

It surprises him, the suddenness and intensity of the feeling. It’s more than a little scary, and not only because of Agron’s propensity to find himself in near-death situations.

“Try and be more careful, please?” Nasir says as he ends the kiss, running his fingers through Agron’s hair, to see Agron’s eyes flutter shut and to feel for any eventual bumps.

“I promise.” Agron opens his eyes again, trying to look straight at Nasir, but he is a little unfocused. He smiles widely. “I love you,” he says.

Nasir smiles back and move in to give him another kiss. Agron stops him with a hand against his chest, his smile turning to a pout.

“You didn’t say it back,” he complains, real hurt behind the childish pout.

“Honey,” Nasir says carefully, “you’re high as a kite. When you’re not doped up on painkillers anymore, I’ll say it back, okay?”

“Okay,” Agron says, happy and content again, and proceeds to try and pull Nasir into bed, claiming that he really needs a thorough examination.




Nasir is filling in patient journals in his room when Sibyl knocks on his door.

“Yes?” he says without looking up by way of inviting her in.

“Agron’s here,” she says and that certainly makes Nasir look up. He sighs heavily even as he can feel how his heart starts to pound almost painfully hard in his chest.

“Not again.” At least he’s glad they informed him this time. He throws his pen onto the desk and stands up. “Is he okay? What was it this time? So help me god if he fell of another fucking roof.”

“Uh, no.” Sibyl is looking a little confused; she is new so she probably doesn’t know that Agron spends more time in the ER than most of the hospital staff. “He’s here.”

She opens the door wider, revealing Agron – upright and seemingly without any injuries.

“Hi,” Nasir says, a little perplexed, moving towards his boyfriend. “You alright?” Sibyl disappears down the hall as Nasir’s drags his hands across Agron’s shoulders, trying to find out what the problem is. “Why are you not at work? Has something happened?”

“No, love,” Agron says with a snort of laughter, clearly amused by Nasir’s inquiry. “I got off early today and thought I’d take you out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Nasir frowns up at him, hands stilling. It takes a while for his words to register. “So you are uninjured?”

“I scratched myself on a hammer,” Agron says, holding up his left index finger for inspection. There’s a small, red mark that Nasir kisses absentmindedly.

“That’s it?” he asks.

“That’s it,” Agron confirms.

“You’re not hurt?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“You’re here for lunch.”

“Yup,” Agron says, outright laughing at him now. “I’m fine and I have no immediate plans of finding any roofs to fall off of.” He wraps his arms around Nasir’s shoulders and kisses his forehead. “I am however gonna go risk my life by asking Naevia to give you the whole afternoon off,” he says with a meaningful smile.

“Mmhm.” Nasir cannot help but lean in to kiss that stupid, infuriatingly sexy smirk off his face. “As your doctor I deem it a risk we simply have to take.”