#but I’m still thinking this AU! I’m actually writing Compton’s story

[curi0uscreature]

* The tiniest of swapnauts dumps

[himbowelsh]

Could I.... request...,,,.. baberoe making out (or even MORE???) in your hs au maybe in the infirmery???? And/or the meet cute in the library that you wrote in your post pretty please?

AN: well, I was so in love with this request that I had to write both.

The bookshelf is steady.At least, that's the impression Babe has gotten. That's what he's observed all year; that's what he was told his first day on the job, when he raised an eyebrow at the rows of shelves lined with books and blurted out, "These look like they could fall over!"Not possible, was the reply he'd received. Hanks High School's library was proudly fatality-free.

Until today. Possibly. Whether Babe is dead or not has yet to be determined, but he's pretty sure he hasn't survived a hundred books raining onto his body, followed by a bookshelf more than twice his weight.

Alright, so the bookshelf didn't actually land on him. It's more like he's trapped under it, pinned by a mountain of books. Through the slats of the empty shelves Babe can see a blinding bright glow. It's either the fluorescent ceiling light or heaven."Jesus fuckin' Christ, what the hell did you do, you bastard?"Well, that mouth certainly wouldn't find its place in heaven.The realization that he's definitely alive only comes when the face of Bill Guarnere, head librarian and Babe's best friend since diapers, appears through the gap between the shelves. A flicker of relief crosses over his face when he spots Babe in one piece, but this is quickly replaced by annoyance."You're a walking hazard," he grumbles. Babe offers a pained grimace in return."Yeah, yeah, Bill. You wanna get this thing off me?"Bill huffs and scrambles away, calling for reinforcements over his shoulder. Babe stares at the empty space he was just occupying for a long moment, feeling less stunned and more irritated by the fact that there's a giant bookcase very close to crushing him.

'Practically anchored to the ground' my ass, he thinks, recalling Bill's words from his first day on the job. Bill's confidence in his library couldn't be rivaled, but for all his obsessive maintenance of the place he really should have seen something like this coming. Did these shelves really pass safety inspections?Babe wonders if he'll get a plaque dedicated to him in the library if he dies here. He's an alumni, after all, and (technically) a staff member. People have gotten monuments here for less. Hell, they put up a statue of Mr. Sobel in the courtyard, and he didn't even die, he just left. (Granted, Bill, Buck Compton, and Harry Welsh put up that statue, just for students and teachers to throw things at and desecrate. Babe still thinks it was a worth investment. Principal Winters hasn't made them take it down yet.)He's lost in the thought of his own tragic demise when he hears Bill reappear, the sound of another loud voice echoing behind him. Babe can't see who it is, but he does see shadows suddenly appear on both sides of the bookshelf, and hears Bill count down from three before announcing "Lift!"With one great heave, the bookshelf is off of him. Babe tries to scramble out from under it, but his ribs are on fire and his entire body twinges in pain with any movement. He decides the path of least agony is to just lie still, watching Bill and Malarkey, one of the kitchen men, set the bookshelf back on its feet."There you go," Bill mutters, tapping the bookshelf before crouching down at Babe's side. "Hey, kid, you alright?"Babe manages a groan. He's proud of himself."Yeah, okay," Malarkey says, as if Babe has just told them all he needs to hear. "Want me to go get Doc?""Wait," Bill says, and lays an exploratory hand on Babe's chest. Babe grunts out a curse. "Yeah, okay. Be damn quick about it."Malarkey rushes off, and Babe squeezes his eyes shut as he listens to Bill talk. He goes on and on, telling him to be still, soothing him to try and keep him from panicking. While not helping the pain at all, his voice does help to ground him; and the fact that he's digging Babe out from the pile of books doesn't hurt either.Babe doesn't realize there's another person in the room until someone else cuts through the pained gaze of his thoughts. "You shouldn't have moved the shelf," an unfamiliar voice, rich and accented in its cadence, says. “Not until you figured out where it hit him.”

“It was just kinda all over the place, Doc,” Bill says. He sounds sheepish; that, more than anything else, let's Babe know they've been joined by the mysterious Doc Roe.

Gene Roe is kind of a fable in the school, among students and teachers alike. He was just hired this year, but already he's proven himself to go above and beyond the duties of a school nurse. He doesn't just hand out ice packs and band-aids. According to the stories, Roe once administered CPR to a student for twenty minutes until an ambulance arrived. He set a boy’s shoulder when it popped out of its socket. When a girl cut her arm on her locker, he stitched it up himself.

Doc Roe may or may not have an actual medical degree, and might be doing things a school nurse really doesn't have the jurisdiction to be doing, but he's already a legend.

Babe’s never met the guy, however; so when he opens his eyes, he's not sure what to expect.

It's certainly not to be greeted by a pair of dark eyes set in a pale face, delicate features and the barest hint of a frown on pursed lips. Roe leans over him, brow furrowed in focus. When he sees Babe’s eyes are open, he offers what could almost pass for a smile.

“Hey there, Heffron. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

There’s a pulsing pain in his left wrist, and his ribs are aching. Babe manages to say as much. Roe nods, frowning, before gently lifting Babe’s wrist in his own.

He doesn't scream at the pain, but he makes an unattractive grunting noise. Sure, he's had worse -- he still remembers the broken arm that took him out of commission for months in sixth grade, and hurt like the devil set him on fire -- but that doesn't make the pulses of fire shooting through his arm any better. He exhales a strained huff of breath, and nods when Roe raises his eyebrows in question.

“Okay. It's either broken or sprained. Can you move your fingers for me?”

Babe tries, and manages it with no problem. Roe’s lips twitch into what really is a smile now, and Babe feels something in his lungs catch. He can feel other hands around him working to dig him out of the pile of books; the ache in his chest is still prominent; but he finds it difficult to focus on anything besides Roe. His hands caress Babe’s wrist with utmost care; his eyes rove over his limbs, picking out every detail.

Wow, Babe thinks, feeling a bit dazed. For the first time, he realizes why everyone says Doc Roe is so great.

“I think it's just sprained,” the nurse says. “That said, I want you to keep ice on it. Try not to use it too much, so for god’s sakes, take it easy. If it still hurts in a few days, go to the doctor for an x-ray.”

Babe nods. Roe switched his attention then, down to his chest, and he feels his lungs seize.

“Okay, it’d help if I could feel under your shirt. Do you mind?”

“Yeah, no problem, I mean, I - I could take it off, if you want,” Babe rushes out, almost choking on the words. Roe offers him an amused glance.

“Why don't you just lie still?” he offers. His hands are electric as they slide under Babe’s shirt, caressing his bare skin. Every place he touches burns, and it's not just the result of potentially broken ribs.

Babe feels lightheaded as Roe examines him, and he's not sure whether he's just hit his head in the fall, or he's actually crazy. From the way he's feeling, it could be either of the two. He's just met Roe, and already he can't help but think that he'd like to hear that smooth voice drip words across his bare skin like honey; he'd like to feel Roe’s hands on him all the time.

After a bit of poking and prodding, Roe determined that Babe has not broken his ribs. There's going to be some bruising, and he'll be sore for a few days, but those should be the worst battle scars he takes away from the experience.

By this time Babe can sit up, speak, and even walk on his own. Now that he's no longer convinced he's dying, there's not much reason for him to be on the floor, so he starts to push himself to his feet. A hand on the back of his neck freezes him in his tracks.

“Sorry,” Roe mutters. “Just wanna make sure you didn't hit your head. It could happen and you wouldn't even know.”

He's so close as he examines him that Babe can almost feel the heat of his breath. Roe’s long fingers explore the back of his scalp, and he feels delirious, giddy, exhilarated. “I'm okay, Doc,” he says. “I'm gonna be fine.”

“I know. Just making sure.” There's a hint of wry amusement in Roe’s tone. When he pulls back to face Babe again, a small smirk plays on his lips.

His hands are no longer touching him, and Babe feels as if something precious has been torn away from him. The gleam in Roe’s eyes, however, almost makes up for it.

“Be more careful next time, Heffron,” he says. Then, with a nod and a smile, he's gone.

Babe stares after his retreating back in shock for a long moment. He trails Roe until he's vanished out the library doors, leaving him feeling like he's been left alone. He must be crazy; that's the only way he could be feeling such an influx of emotions after knowing someone for all of five minutes.

He might not know Roe well, but god, he wants to find out everything about him.

He's jarred out of his awed thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He turns to see Bill glowering down at the mess of books all over the floor.

“Who the hell is gonna clean this up?”

Babe catches his breath before bursting into a fit of helpless laughter.

Potentially fatal accidents aside, he thinks he's going to enjoy working here a lot more after today.

After a while, finding Babe in the infirmary becomes a foregone conclusion.

It's as obvious as locating Luz in the office, or Speirs lurking in the dark corners of his classroom. If Babe isn't in the library (where, according to his job description, he's supposed to be) he's in the infirmary helping out Doc Roe.

“Helping” involves a variety of tasks that Babe is more than happy to perform for the good doctor, from the menial -- sorting through bandages, putting together ice packs -- to the more... proactive.

They're not breaking any rules, he tells himself, because school has been out for an hour now. Anyone at the door now can go bleed out somewhere else. Doc is busy, and Babe is making sure he stays that way.

“Hmm… Babe…”

Gene sounds so gorgeous when he's getting overwhelmed. It doesn't happen often, but anytime he can make him moan like that Babe feels a flash of pride almost as euphoric as the feeling of Gene’s lips caressing the crest of his neck. He eases Gene back a little further, bracing his weight against the infirmary cot, and allows his tongue to explore the inside of Gene’s mouth.

There’s no chance for Gene to do any more moaning now, but that’s okay. For now, the only thing that exists is the warmth of Gene’s body pressed up against his, the rhythm of their erratic heartbeats pounding in sync, and Gene’s ragged breath. Fingers dig into the backs of Babe’s shoulders, urging him on, and knees grip his hips like he’s the only thing capable of anchoring Gene to earth.

Babe sucks on Gene’s lower lip, before pulling away to smirk at him. Gene looks utterly wrecked, face flushed and eyes cloudy with lust. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and Babe’s made him this way.

“I dunno, maybe we should take a break…” He drags every word out like taffy, allowing them to wind over Gene’s exposed neck. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, ya know…”

Babe’s teasing. Gene knows it. There's nothing in the world he'd rather be doing right now more than kissing the hell out of Gene in the middle of his own office.

Gene’s hand catches in the back of Babe’s hair and tightens, enough to make Babe’s breath catch in his throat. “Babe, come on,” he breathes out. “Please.”

Babe grins and leans back in.

He’s just got his mouth fitted back against Gene’s swollen lips when the door opens with a piercing clatter. There’s no chance to think, no chance to catch his breath. Babe springs up, taking Gene with him, and looks up at the door with eyes filled with horror. He has flashes of losing his job, losing his college credit, losing his paycheck --

Bill is standing in the doorway, looking torn between smugness and horror.

“Really, Heffron?” he demands. “You can’t figure out how a damn door lock works?”

“Bill,” Babe grunts, “get out!”

Bill holds up his hands, a grin splitting his face. Now that he’s realized they’re both still fully clothed, he really looks like the cat who caught the canary. Babe could have gone his entire life without experiencing this moment, and now that he’s had he’s not happy about it. He starts glancing around for throwable objects within arm’s reach.

“In school, Babe? Really? And you, Doc, I thought you had more shame than that.”

“School policy is that extracurricular activities are healthy,” Babe says, and flings a box of band-aids at Bill’s head. “Get the hell out!”

Babe has almost as much blackmail on Bill as he does on him. Bill either realizes this or has decided to be a kind person for once in his life, because he holds up his hands and starts backtracking out the door. He’s still grinning, however, and it kind of makes Babe wish he were close enough to hit him.

“Be safe!” chimes Bill. The tone of his voice lets Babe know that he won’t be living this down for a long time.

“I'm a health professional,” Gene calls over Babe’s shoulder. “I promise, we will be.”

The door slams shut. Gene pulls away from Babe just enough to grin at him.

A beat passes before Babe leans his head into Gene’s shoulder, trembling with breathless, silent laughter. Gene’s hands clutch his back, steadying him and keeping him propped upright. He’s laughing too, soft, almost shy things, and it just makes Babe want to hold him closer.

“That was exciting,” Babe manages after a few moments. Once he’s managed to sober, he finds Gene staring at him, an unmistakable hunger in his dark eyes. He feels his lips curl up. “Now, where were we?”