#talk to the Surgeon

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 251

Danny is tired and annoyed. On one hand, his parents took the whole ‘so I might be slightly dead’ pretty well! Which is good! On the other, they decided to send him and his sisters to their uncle while they take care of the Guys in White and refurbish the house to be, well, him safe. Which meant a ridiculously long flight all the way to New Jersey. 

A flight he was pretty sure happened to be illegal what with the fact that neither of them were asked for their IDs or anything despite having them with them. Hm. Y’know he’s not going to question it, he’s getting a nap the moment they get to Uncle Harvey’s. 

[trek-tracks]

for the next five minutes before there's another crisis

[yuwuta]

got a million asks to answer but i have to greys anatomy-ify jjk i do..... particularly yuuta because the idea of him in a white coat and round glasses yelling at his interns because they made a mistake on his 4 year old patient is driving me. insane. desperately desperately need need him

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason: Ch2 Remastered

-------------------------------------------------------------- late at night when the stars don't look quite right -------------------------------------------------------------- there's something burning in the empty room inside of my head fill it up with doubt let it in, let it spread

Jason nearly falls flat on his face when he sees the photo of Danny. He’s in a warehouse, finishing up with a gang selling drugs on his turf. The guys he’s got tied up are cursing up a storm at him, throwing every insult under the sun his way that he’s all heard before. His eyes drag over to them, and silently Jason adjusts his jacket to reveal the guns strapped to his thighs, his hand hovering over the handle of one. 

They all fall silent, and Jason moves his hand away. His phone in his other hand, texting Oracle to alert the police. Jason hates that he has to; these guys will be out of their cells in a matter of months, and nothing will change. 

But he’ll play nice. 

And then his phone buzzes, and when Jason looks down he sees a banner from Tim. A message he planned on ignoring, but his eyes skim over the text on instinct, and suddenly the air is stolen right from his lungs, and his thumb is hitting the screen before he can really think it through.

[Hey Jason, your best friend just appeared in Gotham for the first time since your funeral.]

Impossible. He thinks, yanking his phone close to his nose, as if that will make it any less real or fake. Danny hasn’t been in Gotham in years, Jason checked. But then the image loads, and then he’s staring Danny Fenton in the face. And then he’s greedily tracing every minute, new detail he can find. The gang left half-forgotten in his mind.

Danny’s got an undercut, it looks self-done. It looks good. He looks taller. He’s got piercings in his ears, gold and jewels lining up the sides like a magpie’s find. He’s got an eyebrow piercing. 

Something old, something new; Danny is smiling and it still looks just as Jason remembers it. Crooked, lopsided, warm like the sun and belying the mischief underneath it. He remembers to breathe in that moment, and the sound comes in sharp. Danny’s eyes are as blue as they’ve ever been. 

(“I don’ get why books talk so much about peoples’ eyes.” Danny complains to him one day when he’s visiting the manor, his legs thrown over Jason’s back like an anchor tied to its ship. They’re sunk into the mattress of Jason’s bed, sunlight peering through the windows. “They’re just eyes! I don’t need t’know that they’re ‘as blue as the sky,’ or- or the ocean, or whatever blue thing in the world there is.”) 

(Jason’s smile comes to him like breathing, and he twists around to lay on his back. His arms trap Danny’s legs to his stomach. “Pretty sure it’s jus’ for emphasis on how much they’re noticing the person’s face.”)

(Danny’s face scrunches up, and Jason’s smile splits into a grin, heart swelling three sizes on instinct. “I think it’s stupid, s’just some fuckin’ eyes.”)

(“Eyes are windows to the soul, Dan.” Jason retorts, barking out a laugh when Danny gives him a deadpan look. His hands creep for a pillow, one of the soft downy ones wrapped in silk, and he throws it at Danny’s face. “And besides, speak for yourself! Your eyes are the bluest thing I’ve ever seen.”) 

But most importantly, Danny looks tired. 

Hiding is something that comes free with the purchase of living in Gotham, and Danny’s good at hiding things, he always has, but Jason knows him like the palm of his hands. He looks tired, and Jason wants to reach through the screen and ask him why. There’s an age-worn look there, catching in the flint of his iris, where his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Jason gets the ETA from Oracle, then leaves as fast as his legs can carry him and his grappling hook can zip through the air. He needs to see Danny with his own eyes, to confirm himself that Danny was here, and that it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. Or that it was Tim playing a cruel joke on him — and if it was, he’ll have to rethink his whole killing thing. 

Gotham’s air is warm and suffocating, but her winds bite at him as he soars through it.

It’s second nature for him to find the west end balcony, and Jason finds himself with his feet locked in place on the building beside it. Grappling hook in hand, and a balloon in his lungs, all swelled up and squishing the air out of him. 

It’s just his luck —with whatever he has left— that Danny is there as well. In the same spot he’s always been, with a cigarette caught between his teeth. He’s stuck halfway, head tilting, eyes closed, with the shadows of Gotham on his back and the light of the gala at his front. 

For a moment, for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Jason thinks Danny’s going to tilt himself back off the side.The thought has him blindly tilting himself forward with his heart in his throat. Hands reaching for his grappling hook, swinging down to drop down beside him.

Danny is staring at him before his feet even hit the ground, face nigh unreadable beyond the small, wary furrow of his brows. Danny’s never looked at him like that before, it feels like  stumbling on the last step of the stairs. 

Then, like fire to black powder something flashes and ignites in Danny’s eyes. Mouth curling, eyes burning, for a moment, just a moment, they’re kids again, getting into fights and turning soft hands punch-rough. Danny looks at Jason like he’s going to tear him to shreds.

Jason’s mouth runs dry like a desert in the summer, but his blood chills in fear cold in his veins. Why are you looking at me like that? His mouth opens, but his tongue is leaden in his throat, and no sound comes out. It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?  

Danny yanks the cigarette from his mouth like it burns him, his free hand gripping onto the railing like it’s the tether to a leash, nails threatening to turn into talons. “Red Hood.” He says, voice low and timbre, smoke dripping from his lips like dragon’s breath.  

Oh.

That’s right. Jason suffocates on his heart as it sinks and soars with relief. Danny doesn’t know it’s him. In his tunnel vision, he forgot that simple, easy fact. It’s not because it’s Jason that he’s angry. It still doesn’t explain, though, why Danny looks at him like he ought to sink his teeth into his throat and rip him open. 

He’s half-distracted by that, and then distracted by the need to drink in the sight of Danny again. A photo is one thing; the real person is another, and with his fear subsiding, Jason rakes his eyes over his best friend and swallows him whole. His eyes are bluer in person, his memory and Tim’s photo doesn’t do them justice, and Danny inherited his dad’s height. He’s gotten so tall. They both have. They both used to be such scrawny kids. 

So distracted is he, that he forgets to respond to Danny, to say anything. Not until Danny tries to dismiss himself, and Jason kickstarts into gear. White hot panic fills in his lungs, burning him up like magma. No, no, no, he’s moving without thinking, always when he’s with him, and he nearly latches onto Danny. Nearly wraps his hands around his arm to hold him in place. Don’t leave. You’re finally here; don’t go. 

Danny stays, but he stares at Jason’s reaching hands like he’ll bite them off, stares at Jason with his eyes burning, watchful. Jason’s excuse is lousy and he knows it, but he wants, wants, wants to stay and figure out every new thing about Danny. 

And he feels like he’s losing something. Time bleeds together beside him and Jason feels trapped behind a glass wall of his own making. Something old, something new. The distance of which Danny keeps him at is foreign to him. He hates it. 

Tell me everything, he thinks, because he can’t find the words to say it. He hands Danny a cigarette instead, and hopes that it’s enough. Tell me everything and more, tell me what I’ve missed. 

In the end, he still feels like he’s losing something, but he also feels like he’s missing something. Answers that are water, and that water is slipping through his fingers. Danny leaves him with more questions than answers; something that’s never happened before, and Jason watches him walk back inside with a spinning mind. 

What do you mean you spoke to my ghost?

I told you that the Joker killed me?

Have I told you anything else? Have I already told you everything I’ve wanted to?

What happened while I was gone? 

Is that why you’re scarred?

Because Jason isn’t blind, he’s never been. Not in Crime Alley, not as Robin, not now. And not when it comes to his best friend. He sees the silver lightning scars ripped jagged up Danny’s arm, sees that they disappear under his sleeves. He saw, faded as they were, invisible until the light hit right, as they spread like tree roots up his throat and across the side of his face.

Scars that Danny’s never had before. Scars he didn’t have when Jason was alive the first time. Scars he didn’t have the last time Jason saw him. Or — what he remembers to be the last time he saw him, because apparently he saw him as a ghost. He sees the curve of his ears and how they point more than a human’s should, he saw the glint of his canines, sharper than they should be; sharper than he remembers. Metaphorical fangs turned real.   

Jason should’ve asked where he got them from, should’ve taken Danny by the front of his collar and stopped him from leaving. Who did this to you? He should have said, a fire burning in his chest and wrapping around his throat, pulling his voice into a snarl. He should have said, his guns weighing heavy on his sides; Who did it. I’ll take care of it. Just tell me who. Tell me everything. 

Instead, something crawled into his mouth and died, and his tongue is glued to the roof of it. And he doesn’t say anything, because saying something means telling his best friend who he is. It means having to take off his helmet and mask. It means telling his best friend that he’s alive, that he has been. That despite being two halves of a whole, Jason spent five years letting him think he was dead. 

He can’t tell him, not when he’s in too deep already. Not when Jason is so unrecognizable to who he used to be that if he told him, Danny would hate him.

And Danny is still grieving him. So plain as day mourning, still angry over his death. Angry enough that he wants the Joker dead, angry enough that he wants to hang the noose and kick the chair out himself. 

Jason wishes he told him that he looks tired. 

Instead he’s standing alone on the balcony, trying to get his thoughts in order as music blares muffled through the gold-light door. He’s left staring at the crushed cigarette laying on the ground, Gotham’s ambience at his back and a poem hanging in the air that he has no words for. It’s already there. Like stars on a painted ceiling.

And there are so many questions he needs answers for. 

Like his ghost. His ghost.

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Does he really want to kill the Joker himself? Was it just the grief talking? Jason knows — or thinks he knows — Danny like the palm of his hands. He’s been through everything with him, he’s seen him say something and then immediately follow through with it. He knows when he’s being serious, he knows when he’s not. 

Danny wants to kill the Joker. Stealing is one thing; murder is another. And Danny wore a look on his face that looked like he meant it when he told Red Hood that he wanted to kill Joker. But saying and doing are two different things. Jason doesn’t know what to think.  

Something old, something new. Danny is still the same, and yet he’s changed so much. 

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Jason doesn’t ever remember being a ghost. But Danny knows the Joker killed him. He knows how he killed him. Danny’s parents are ghost scientists, and Jason remembers the letter he got one day telling him about the portal they were building in the basement. 

He remembers thinking about telling Bruce — this was something beyond the glowing green samples stored in the fridge, giving life to the food inside. This was beyond the weapons, the inventions they made that only saw the light of day when the Drs. Fenton brought them up to showcase them.

And he didn’t, because if he hadn’t told Bruce about everything before, he wasn’t going to start. He admits, it was part fear that Bruce might intervene and prevent him from seeing Danny that he didn’t.  

Neither of them had expected it to work — but it sounds like it did. 

(Jason has avoided Amity Park for a reason. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going there if he didn’t. But now, he just might have to look into it. He’s missed too much.) 

And Danny wants to kill the Joker, and Jason isn’t sure if he means it or not. Because the look on his face when he said it is oh-so familiar. It’s the one he wore when he needed Jason to distract the clerk while he snuck behind the counter to steal cigarettes from the shelves. It was the one he wore when an older kid cornered them near one of Gotham’s many alleys, threatening them over something Jason can no longer remember clearly. 

(He remembers puffing himself up, rearing for a fight. Danny, with glass in his teeth and blood between his fingers, lands a square kick to the spot between the kid’s legs. His knees hit the ground, and Danny’s hand found Jason’s to drag them both out of there.)

It’s the look of a boy, Gotham-touched grime in his soul, soft fingers turned calloused and scarred, about to do something he’s not going to regret. It’s the look of a boy that has set his mind to something and is going to do it. Some might call it the eyes of a cornered animal, but Danny’s never been cornered, not when Jason’s been with him. 

(But Jason hasn’t been with him. Not for the last five years. So can he really say it wasn’t the eyes of a cornered animal?...Yes.) 

Jason gets off the balcony before he can be seen, and he shouldn’t, but he loiters. He should get back to patrol, the night is never over. Not in Gotham. But he stays, hidden atop the roof nearby.

—---------------

An hour later, Danny walks out the doors with a man Jason recognizes as Vlad Masters — another new mystery for him to uncover. The paparazzi have long since left. Gotham’s nights are dangerous and everyone knows that, not even the vultures would stick around for a scoop, not unless there was something worth seeing. 

A black limousine pulls up beside them, and Masters walks around the back to reach the other side. He’s bristled like an angry cat. “I thought I told you not to embarrass me.” He hisses, eyes snake-narrowed.

Danny, for the most part, just looks unbothered, his hands shoved into his pockets without a care. But he narrows his eyes right back, an expression made of stone. “You have a pretty low bar for what you think is embarrassing.” 

Masters just scowls, “I don’t understand you, I would have thought you’d spend the whole time mingling with the Waynes, badger.” He says. Danny ruffles at the nickname, lips curling into a snarl. Jason finds himself unconsciously mimicking him. “And yet, I find you sequestered away in the corner like a little fly on the wall. Were they not up to your standards?”  

‘Sequestered’ Danny mouths mockingly, eyes burning like he was going to claw his hand down Masters’ face. Instead, his hands dig into his arms. “I did talk to them, that’s more than I can say for you. You couldn’t even keep Mister Wayne’s attention for more than a minute.”  

Jason frowns, and Masters scoffs, puffing up like an owl with its ego bruised. “Regardless, I am not the one losing here. Or did you forget what you promised me?” 

Jason’s frown deepens. Danny doesn’t promise anything. At least, he doesn’t promise with just anyone. He deals; he repays; he indebts. But he does not promise. Promises were power, with only one side benefiting. It was trust to promise someone something. Danny doesn’t trust easily, neither of them do.

Something that hasn’t changed. Danny rears up angrily, mouth twisting, teeth baring, snarling out a fury sound. A wire cut live and sparking. He grabs the door handle and yanks it open harshly. “I didn’t promise you anything, Vlad.” He hisses, Jason strains to hear him. “I offered and you agreed. Do not fucking twist my words.” 

There it is. Jason should’ve known better, guilt string-plucking in his chest for his doubt. Danny doesn’t promise things; not to people like this Masters guy, at least. 

Danny grabs something from the car and throws himself back. “Don’t wait up.” He snarls, a wild thing just as Jason is, and yanks on a red hoodie over his arms. It zips up, and hangs off him, smothering the vest and button-up beneath. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” 

Then he slams the door shut, shoulders hunched and with a scowl carved into his face. They’re both made of broken glass; independence — disobedience — and rebellion cut into them from every broken beer bottle shattered on the streets.

(Jason makes a mental note to look into Vlad Masters — Danny’s never told him about him, so they must have met after he died. The man leaves a rot in Jason’s mouth, and there is a greed festering inside him that Jason knows has left him in decay.)

(He doesn’t like how close Masters acts with him, doesn’t like the affiliations between them both. Masters reminds him of Luthor and every other rich socialite with their hands in something dirty. He hates even more that Danny is making deals with him. What has he missed?)  

Jason follows after Danny, partially concerned that Danny is wandering Gotham alone. Regardless of what he can do, Gotham is still dangerous. It is bone-rotting, lung-choking and unforgiving. Danny knows this, Jason knows he does. He’s partially curious to know just where he’s going, and whether or not it was important enough to visit in the dead of Gotham’s bloody nights.

Danny surprises him — slipping between alleyways, sticking close to the shadows. Someone taught him how to be stealthy — or, at least, refined what stealth Danny already had. More new things that Jason needs to learn. More things he will never get to know. 

Who taught you that? 

Just what, exactly, have I missed?

I want to know everything. 

Five years is a long, long time to be away from someone. If a caterpillar can become a butterfly in two weeks, then what can five years do to a human? It’s a long time to change, to become something else entirely. Jason’s become someone new, and he thinks, so has Danny. 

Dread pools in his ribs, into his lungs, and weighs heavy on his heartstrings. The urge to drop down in front of Danny, to grab him by the arms and ask him to tell him everything, returns with a vengeance. This is why he avoided Amity Park. 

Will I still know you like I used to? Jason trails behind Danny from the rooftops, like a ghost. Do you still love the stars? Do you still take tea over coffee? Will you tell me, if I ask? 

And if he doesn’t? If he doesn’t ask, like he isn’t right now? 

If he doesn’t ask about his ghost — something that still boggles his mind, because it means the Fentons were right and that portal might have worked, and Danny found Jason’s ghost? If he doesn’t ask what his ghost told him, if he told him anything else? Did his ghost tell you that he was Robin, like he always wanted to?  

He will just have to keep his questions to himself. He will just have to tuck them into a folder in his mind, and file it under all of his other regrets.  

He feels like he’s Robin again; keeping secrets and hiding things from his best friend because it simply wasn’t safe enough for him to know. It’s maddening.  

Why has nothing changed since he died? Why has nothing changed, now that he was alive?

—---------------

Danny leads him to the Gotham Cemetery. Jason freezes outside the gates. Oh, he thinks.

Oh.

He thinks back to what he thought earlier. 

What could possibly be so important that he’d go to it in the dead of Gotham’s night? The cemetery. Of course. Something old, something new, something bittersweet sets over his tongue that he swallows down. 

Jason forces himself to follow. 

“Hey.” Danny says as Jason settles behind a tree, voice gentle in foreign familiarity. He’s standing at Jason’s grave, his hands shoved into his pockets. The light is low but it doesn’t stop Jason from seeing the starlight-soft look in Danny’s eyes and his half-tilted smile, the smile that Jason is more familiar with than the wary scowls. “Sorry I’m late.”

Guiltish misery wraps its hands around Jason’s lungs. Pin-prickingly, stabbing at his heartstrings, Jason’s mouth moves on its own; “It’s okay.” but no sound comes out. Danny doesn’t hear him, and neither does Jason himself.  

Danny sits down before Jason’s tombstone, groaning low and tiredly as his legs fold beneath him. He’s older than Jason, and immediately his mind switches over to all the jokes he used to lob him with. 

(“Need help crossing the street, old man?” Jason, eight years old, asks with a grin so wide and painful across his face; giggles in his chest. He hooks his elbow with Danny, and keeps him tight against his ribs. “You’ll need all the help you can get in your ancient age.”)

(“I’m not that old.” Danny says, glaring at him before they scurry across the street with the light still green. Traffic laws are a joke in Crime Alley, it’s like a game of frogger as the sound of honking horns and screeching tires follows their heels. “We’re six months apart!”)

(“Six months and four days, actually.” Jason corrects when they reach the other side, snickering as they race down the sidewalk. Drivers lean out their windows and curse them out as they get away, Danny dodges an empty soda can thrown at his head. “Can’t forget the four days.”)

“I would’ve come sooner.” Danny tells him, pulling him from child-fuzzy memories and back into reality. Jason peers around the tree to see him running a hand through his hair, head ducked down. His palm splaying against his neck. “Sorry I didn’t. I got scared.” 

Scared? Jason blinks, he leans against the bark and bumps his helmet against the wood. The thunk is loud in his ears, but Danny makes no indication that he heard. Of what? 

But Danny doesn’t say what, he drops his hand and glances off to the side. He sits like a man who isn’t quite sure what to do, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes scrunched. Grief carves into the lines of his face like a sculptor carving into marble. 

“I was gonna get you flowers on my way here.” Danny continues. His voice cracks, begins to wobble, and Jason sees Danny’s jaw tighten and his eyes close for a moment. When they open, there’s a wobbling sheen on his bottom lashes; tears threatening to bleed.   

Danny flicks at the tears with the nail of his thumb, it does nothing. It just makes his breath hitch. “Um, but they- uh, didn’t have any open on the way here.” He says, giving Jason’s grave a tremulous smile. “Sorry, I’ll make sure to pick some up on my next visit.”   

Next visit. Jason’s heart squeezes uncomfortably, before he reels at the words. Danny’s going to be visiting again, after five years of being out of Gotham? Next visit, why are you visiting again? Was this the reason he came to Bruce’s little charity ball with Vlad Masters? So that he could come visit Jason’s grave?

It couldn’t have been. There are other ways to get to Gotham that don’t require making deals with shady rich men. Danny’s smart, smarter than Danny himself gives him credit for. He’s brilliant. Why did he need Masters’ help to get him to Gotham?

There had to be another reason why.

God, there were so many questions that Jason wants the answers to. He’ll find them, one way or another. 

But, he focuses in again. Danny is only here for the night. One night, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back again. Jason wants to commit every detail of his best friend to memory before he leaves. 

“You like zinnias, right?” Danny pets the grass at his side absently, and yes. Yes, Jason does, and Danny remembers. Even five years from his death, he remembers. Of course he does. 

“Yeah, you do. You used to pick the petals up off the sidewalk from those uh, fuck — the vendors. The Victorian flower language too, I think. Got a book on that somewhere. I’ll get you red an’ yellow ones.” 

Grief traps in Jason’s chest, and he barely tamps down the bitter laugh forcing itself out of the chokehold of his throat. You fucking sap, you big fuckin’ sap.

Red zinnias. Steadfast beating of the heart. The irony. It’s got double the meaning now, now that he’s alive. But Danny doesn’t know that, so the heart that’s beating could only belong to him. But even with Jason alive, he’s hiding. Between the both of them, the only one here with a beating heart is Danny.

(Between the two of them, the only heart here is one that's made between the two of them.)

Yellow zinnias. Daily remembrance. Of course. That doesn’t need any explanation, the writing is right there on the wall. Raised, so that even the blind may read it. It doesn’t need to be said what that means, Jason can hear it on the wind, in the grass, in the trees. His heart crumpling like a rag being twisted out to drain the dirty water soaking in it. 

I miss you.

I miss you. 

I miss you. 

I’m right here. Is what Jason wants to say. It’s what he should say. He should step out from behind the tree; should speak up and say something. To announce his presence. To do something to let Danny know that he’s speaking to someone who is more than a ghost (who feels like one anyways) and a corpse in the ground. 

Here I am. Here I am. HERE I AM.

His feet are gravebound to the dirt, his tongue cut out of his mouth and shoved into a jar. He feels, in some way, like he’s clawing out of his own grave again, but the dirt keeps falling and his arms are burning. His lungs are filled with more soil than air. He’s not getting out. 

Shame burns cigarette smoke in the back of his throat, shriveling up what little remains of his tar-filled heart. It should be his lungs, and it’s got that too. His feet are grave-bound to the floor.

Danny’s begun to cry, much to Jason’s horror. It should be more incentive for Jason to step out. He doesn’t. His best friend sniffles and scrubs at his face, soaking tears into his hoodie’s sleeve. “I’m sorry for not visitin’ sooner,” he says, voice spiraling with grief, “I don’t have an excuse. I should’ve come sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Don’t be, Jason thinks. Finds himself surprised by the truth of it. He should be upset. Five years and not a single visit. He abandoned him like everyone else. Except he didn’t. 

He’s not upset, he can’t be. Not when Danny’s finally here. Not when he’s still crying over him five years after the fact. Not when he’s going to put flowers on his grave that means he thinks of him daily. Not when Danny knows who killed him and wants him dead. 

Jason isn’t sure of what to think of that still. He wants Bruce to kill the Joker. More importantly he wants change in Gotham. He wants something to be done. He doesn’t know if Danny is being honest or not — and honesty doesn’t mean anything if someone doesn’t act on it.  

Danny continues talking to his grave, his voice full with sorrow. He talks about the gala, about running into Bruce and talking to him again. 

Jason listens in dutiful silence, soaking in Danny’s voice like a sponge. This is what he was expecting on the balcony; this easy conversation. Except it’s not a conversation, Danny is talking and not expecting a response. Jason feels like a stranger imposing on his own grave.He should slink away, let Danny have his peace on his own.

He refuses to move. He can’t bring himself to.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's sitting in front of him. He can pretend he’s thirteen again, with him and Danny crawled under the bed at the manor and trading all the stories they couldn’t fit in their letters. Danny tells him about another fight he had with Dash Baxter, eyes rolling but smug teeth flashing in a stifled smile. Then he tells him about something Sam and Tucker did; about one of Sam’s protests she led against the biology lab, and Tucker coding his PDA to play Doom. Easy, stupid middle schooler shit.

They’d sneak out to the balcony for their vices, Danny clutching a carton of cheap cigarettes in hand. Alfred always finds the ones Jason hides, so they usually share whenever Danny comes to visit. Jason tells him about Gotham Academy, about the people there and the classes. Prep school is another beast entirely, he likes seeing Danny’s reactions to the politics that goes on inside. 

Or, further back, they’re eight again, climbing a rickety fire escape to the rooftop and hanging their feet over the edge to find Batman and Robin. Danny was in the lead before he left for Amity Park. Jason remembers it clearly; they’d spent all night outside on that rooftop. 

Jason doesn’t close his eyes.

Jazz decided to change career goals; psychology’s become more of a hobby for her, and she’s going to go to med school instead. She’s thinking of doing an internship in Metropolis. Danny says he’s glad that it’s not Gotham, and when he told Jazz this, she laughed at him and told him that she was going to save that for later. 

She’s Gotham-touched too, she knows it’s blood just as much as Danny does. She wants to help the people there, but knows what Gotham’s like. She knows what she can and cannot do. Determination doesn’t equate skill, it just means the willingness to learn. 

Sam is staying in Amity Park and doing online classes for college, but Tucker got a full ride scholarship in software engineering. Danny’s thick with pride as he tells Jason’s headstone. Jason’s happy for him — they weren’t close, not like he and Danny were, but they were still friends. 

Jason soaks it all in; tell him more. He wants to know everything. 

"I don't know what I want to do." Danny says when he’s finally done talking about everyone else, his chin laying on his knees. “S’not like I can be an astronaut anymore, but there’s not anything I can see myself doing.”

The corner of his mouth coils, sardonic. “I’ve had five years to come up with somethin’ new, and I’ve come up with nothin’ at all.” He huffs. It’s a rough, bitter sound. Gotham has been steadily seeping back into his voice since he arrived in the graveyard, and now it comes out thick, like it never left. 

Danny’s face falls slack, like a puppet losing its strings, and he sinks into himself. “I guess I…” He exhales slow. “I’ve just been distracted.” A faraway glaze eclipses his eyes, and before they close, tears begin to bleed onto his eyelids. Again, grief mars the lines of his skin, settling into the curve of his mouth and threading between his brows like second nature.

Fuck, it’d be so easy for Jason to just step out. Move. His best friend is grieving. He could save him the pain of it and tell him now. Move, move, move. 

He doesn’t move.

For a while, there’s nothing but silence, just Jason hiding in his shame; a rat on the street would be bolder than him. Danny’s eyes don’t open. Eventually, his head tilts and slumps into his knees, Jason almost thinks, somehow, that he’s fallen asleep — but Danny’s hand threads into the hair on the back of his head, his finger beginning to tap an invisible beat into his skull. 

It’s the perfect opportunity for him to slip away. Danny’s distracted; lost in his thoughts. He won’t notice if Jason slinks off now. He could go and hide away on a roof nearby, ensuring that Danny gets his rightful privacy without leaving him to the teeth of the streets.  

Jason still doesn’t move. 

Danny begins to hum. It’s a low, breathy sound, and it shakes unevenly. There’s no discernible melody, but a breeze picks it up and travels it through the air anyway, rooting Jason to his spot. His throat swells, and his back sinks into the bark behind him. 

For a full minute, maybe two, Danny just hums. It’s a simple tune, but it fills the graveyard with the sound. When it goes up, he sharpens, when he goes down again, it flats, and sometimes it wobbles.  

When he lifts his head, when he finally opens his eyes, he’s still humming. Soon it dies down, and the next time Danny exhales, it comes out tumultuous and slow. His hand slips heavy from his head and drops into the grass. 

“Where’d you go, Jay?” Danny mutters, and despite his voice coming flat, he still sounds so tired. Danny’s eyes flick up, lifting off the grass to burn into the headstone. He’s not even looking at him, and yet Jason still freezes up, he still feels pinned under the weight of his stare. “I know you’re still out there, somewhere. I know it.” 

Jason breathes in shakily, a sting deep in the back of his throat. He gives no answer; guilt is an animal with claws, and it burrows deep into Jason’s heart to make itself a home between the tendons. He’s right here. 

Silence falls over them again, and this time it’s only the sound of the city around them that bleeds into the air. Danny stares at Jason’s grave, staring like he’s expecting an answer. He doesn’t get one. 

Danny sighs out low, and stands. His knees tremble slightly, and he rubs his sleeve into his eyes, catching the stray tears falling from his lashes. Like breaking a spell, Jason jolts from the fog of sorrow hanging in the air. 

“I’ll see you later, an’ I’ll make sure to bring you those flowers you like.” He tells him, and miraculously, a shadow of a smile flits over Danny’s mouth. “Y’better be here when I get back, alright? I’ll kick y’fucking ass if you’re not.” 

Jason bites back a huff, his mouth upturning in a wobble. I will, he thinks, and watches Danny trail out of the graveyard with his hands in his pockets. He waits until he’s disappeared behind the gate before following.   

Guilt is a thing with claws, and Jason leaves the cemetery with it eating his tongue. But he makes sure Danny gets back to his hotel safe before he slinks back to Crime Alley; he might not be a ghost anymore, but he can still trail behind Danny like he is. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ayy i finally got chapter 2 of CFAU/TMWS edited/redone! It had to get rewritten because a lot of stuff became obsolete in the wake of the new chapter 1. and also it just kinda. fucking sucked imo lmao

(you can also read it here on my ao3!)

[soaked-ghost]

isn't it fun?!

[mudwerks]

TIL about Alexandre Vattemare, he was a French ventriloquist. He trained as a surgeon, but was refused a diploma after making cadavers seem to speak during surgical exercises

[glompcat]

Guilty on allllllllllllll charges

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: ok so listen; so Steve Harrington who didn't tell anyone he gets into a medical school (Indiana University School of medicine) but he travels to school during the week and Mike finds the graduation letter in Steve's apartment. He graduated as a premed student with a full scholarship to Harvard Medical school for the trauma surgeon program. The party realizes that their constant jokes making fun of Steve's intelligence caused him to not tell them about this. I want a mixture of angst with a full proper apology & a few years later him graduating from Harvard with the party cheering him.

MY LOOOOOOVE!!!! Nothing gets me going quite like a secret super smart Steve Harrington. Is it OOC? Maybe. But writing Steve as a fucking Harvard Med School graduate!!! A whole trauma surgeon!!!! YES!!!!! I obviously had to put some Steddie in there, mostly because Eddie deserves a happy ending, too and any chance I have to give him one, I will. - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------

Steve was late. He’d been late a lot recently.

Mike started driving a few weeks ago, got his hands on Nancy’s car since she was busy traveling the world now, and he’d been quick to pick up the slack.

But he was growing impatient.

When they asked Steve why he was late, he shrugged it off, said he forgot. Everyone just went with it because obviously Steve’s kind of scatterbrained and a few fries short of a happy meal, especially after the head trauma.

But Mike was suspicious.

Steve let it go a little too easily.

And Eddie hadn’t stuck up for him like he usually did when they were teasing his intelligence.

Mike was letting himself into Steve’s apartment, using the key that he kept under the mat so the kids always had a place to go if they needed it.

He wasn’t home yet, but Mike had just been to Family Video and he wasn’t there either. Apparently, hadn’t been in at all today. Keith said something about ‘taking the day off for exams.’

Steve wasn’t in school though, so that meant he was lying and Mike wanted to know what he was lying about.

He looked at the counter, saw a large stack of mail, and decided that was probably a good place to start his search.

Most of it seemed like junk, a few bills, a letter from Robin, and an envelope that was torn open already from Indiana University.

If it was already open, it was fair game. That was his motto, at least.

He pulled out a thick stack of papers.

The seal in the corner of the first page said School of Medicine.

Was Steve sick? Had he started seeing the university doctors because of some weird problem with his head? Maybe that’s why he’d also been so forgetful lately.

Maybe they put him on a new medication trial or something and it was a side effect.

But he kept reading and felt his chest cave in.

Dear Mr. Steven J. Harrington,

It is a great honor to announce your successful completion of the pre-med degree program at Indiana University. Your incredible tenacity has proved that you’re prepared to work through any medical school program in the country.

Graduation is currently set for May 18, 1989. Please contact your advisor to reserve tickets by April 28, 1989.

Thank you for trusting Indiana University with your education. We look forward to seeing your accomplishments in the future!

“Holy shit.”

“Why are you reading my mail?”

Mike jumped at Steve’s voice. He’d been so busy reading the letter, he hadn’t heard the front door to the apartment open.

“You’re going to med school?”

“Hopefully, yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolled his eyes and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a can of soda for himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like. You’re. You’re you. How are you going to med school?”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he leaned against the counter and sipped at his drink.

“I graduated from pre-med as valedictorian. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“You? Valedictorian? You barely got through high school!”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I hated high school. I was going through a lot of shit. It wasn’t because I’m stupid.”

Mike’s mouth was gaping like a fish, confused at literally everything that was happening.

“But-“

“I also just got into Harvard on a full scholarship if we’re gonna put it all out there. I was gonna tell everyone this weekend at El’s birthday party but I’m sure you’re about to run to tell them all.”

Well, how could he not? Steve had been hiding going to college for years! He was about to move to Harvard!

“Wait! Is Eddie going with you?”

“Yeah. We found an apartment over a record store and the owner hired him to run the store while he transitions into retirement.”

Mike felt like he was in an alternate universe. There was no way Steve Harrington was going to be a doctor. There was no way Eddie and Steve were moving to Boston.

There was no way he was leaving all of them.

“But. But what about us?”

“You guys are all practically adults. You barely even hang out with me anymore unless it’s to get a ride or get snacks for Hellfire. You didn’t even notice I was driving to and from campus for years. I think I’ve given enough of myself to people who don’t seem to want it,” Steve shrugged, looking down at the floor.

Mike wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, but he also kind of just wanted to hug Steve and tell him that wasn’t true.

But it kind of was, wasn’t it?

They’d all taken advantage of Steve’s kindness for years. He’d been the best damn babysitter they could have, saved their lives multiple times, gave them money for the arcade and dates and pizza for pool parties when he lived in his old house.

They grew to just expect it.

He didn’t even know the last time he’d heard anyone say thank you. He certainly hadn’t said it in a long time.

“But, Dustin will be devastated.”

“He’ll be okay. He’s gonna go to MIT when he graduates and he’ll be right around the corner or something. I dunno. He hasn’t even called me just to talk in months. I don’t think he’ll miss me that much.”

Which just. It wasn’t true. Mike knew for a fact that Dustin would be heartbroken about Steve leaving.

“I.”

“It’s fine. Eddie’s gonna be home soon so if you wanna wait for him that’s fine. I’m gonna go shower and get an early night. Been up since three this morning.”

“Did you really have exams?”

“What?”

“I checked to see if you worked today and Keith said you had exams,” Mike said shakily, feeling entirely off balance.

“Oh. I just had to do an entrance exam for Harvard. They let me take it on IU’s campus since I can’t move until two weeks before classes start.”

Mike nodded once.

This was really happening. Steve was leaving.

Steve was going to Harvard.

He was taking Eddie with him.

And not a single one of them had bothered to notice any of it happening.

————————

“I told you I don’t know! I’m giving you everything I have!” Mike yelled at Dustin, who was pacing and clearly trying not to cry.

“It just doesn’t make sense! He always acted like he didn’t understand half of what we were saying when we talked science stuff!” Dustin yelled as he walked back and forth across the floor, wearing a pattern into the carpet.

“Maybe it’s because we’ve always just assumed he’s dumb. I mean, none of us really treated him like he could keep up, so maybe he just. Didn’t,” Lucas shrugged.

“He could’ve told us!”

“Or maybe he didn’t want to since we all thought he’d be lying,” Max added from her chair in the corner.

“He could’ve proved it!”

“Maybe he didn’t want to have to,” Eddie said as he walked in the room.

Hellfire was at Dustin’s tonight, and Eddie had been late.

His sudden appearance made them all cower where they sat or stood.

“No Hellfire tonight. I was gonna call, but had to drive by here anyway. Steve’s having a bad night and I’m pretty certain it’s your fault, so I’m gonna go try to get him through it.”

It was a bit harsh, but not undeserved.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Eddie?” Dustin asked quietly.

“It wasn’t for me to tell. He was going to when he got accepted into IU, and then you guys spent most of that night telling him he wouldn’t understand what you were talking about with your group science project so he kept it to himself. Then he just decided it wouldn’t be worth trying to explain anything since you wouldn’t believe him anyway. He asked me not to say anything until he announced his graduation and Harvard this weekend, so I didn’t.”

“But we would have been proud of him! He could have shown us his acceptance letter or something.”

“That’s not how you made him feel,” Eddie shrugged before turning back towards the door. “We’ll see you at El’s party.”

When Eddie left, the room was silent.

Everyone was deep in thought, trying to unpack everything.

With Hellfire canceled, they didn’t have much of a reason to stick around, but none of them felt like being alone.

Not when they started to realize that Steve was kind of the glue that held them all together and without him, they may not ever be whole again.

—-----------------------

El’s party was simple, just the usual guests and some cake and balloons. She didn’t like a big thing, usually preferred to have a sleepover with Max and just do their nails and listen to music.

Joyce insisted on having a little get together though, said it would be nice to celebrate something since they hadn’t really since Will’s birthday.

Steve was there, holding Eddie’s hand in the corner, talking with Hopper while Eddie talked with Joyce.

Steve told them everything when they got there since the kids knew, and while he knew Joyce and Hopper were happy for him, for both of them, they could send their shock.

All of the kids had hesitantly hugged Steve when they got there, barely saying anything to him, unsure where they stood.

Steve felt like he was closing the book on his life in Hawkins, and he hated that it felt like no one would join him in the next one except for Eddie.

Throughout the day, the kids would find their way up to him to just be close, soak in Steve’s energy, try to appreciate him now because they clearly hadn’t been before.

He let them. He could have told them to go away, or tried to talk them into apologies, but it wouldn’t do any good right now, and he didn’t want to ruin El’s birthday party.

Eddie could tell he wasn’t himself, though. He saw the way Steve’s eyes dropped down to his lap every time one of the kids would walk away from his side, how his leg started bouncing when things were quiet for more than a few seconds.

“You wanna head out?”

“I-”

“Steve? Can we talk to you for a minute?” Lucas asked, the rest of the party behind him watching with wide eyes.

“Oh. Sure.”

Eddie patted his knee and stood up, but Lucas gestured for him to sit back down.

“You, too. We owe you both explanations and apologies.”

So, Eddie sat. He would support Steve through whatever this conversation entailed, and maybe get something else out of it too.

“We all want to take turns saying stuff, but I wanna start,” Lucas said, playing with his hands nervously.

Steve nodded, always more patient than the kids deserved.

“I always saw you as the jock, ya know? Like, I respected you because you were a great basketball player and you had a lot of friends. I just kind of thought that was who you were, even after high school. You always made time to help me over the summer, even when you’d just worked an opening shift or had to go in for a closing shift. I didn’t really consider you an adult, even though you were. You were just there. You protected me, all of us, from some of the scariest shit any of us will ever have to deal with without even taking a second to consider your own safety. You just did it. And I don’t really think any of us thanked you. None of us would be here without you.”

Lucas was biting his lip, trying not to cry as he wrapped up his speech, but didn’t get a chance to start before Will started talking.

“I haven’t spent as much time with you as the rest of these guys have. But I know that you’re always there. You give me a ride when my mom can’t and you always slip me an extra $1 or 2 when we go to the arcade because you know I don’t have much. You hung up my art on your apartment wall even though it sucks and isn’t your style because you wanted me to know that someone supports me. You’ve been one of the only constants in our crazy lives, and we haven’t done nearly enough to show that we appreciate you,” Will wiped his eyes quickly as he turned away to let someone else speak.

“Billy was an asshole to all of us, but especially to you. You could’ve walked away that night, left Lucas and me to defend ourselves or die trying, but you didn’t. You knew he was a racist piece of shit and you got another concussion just so he wouldn’t lay a hand on us. That was the first time I ever had someone stick up for me like that. And after everything with Vecna, you were the one who always checked in, made sure I had rides to appointments, had food I could easily make when my mom wasn’t around, brought me to the skate park as soon as I was cleared by my doctor. I’ve never had someone who cared so much like you do and I’m sorry I didn’t know how to show you that it meant so much to me,” Max said seriously.

Steve was sniffling, and Eddie knew if he tried to comfort him too much right now, it would just make it worse. He squeezed his hand and wiped the tear falling down his cheek as the kids continued.

“I hated you for the longest time. I thought it was your fault Nancy changed, and then I thought it was your fault when Nancy and Jonathan got together, and then I just hated everyone and everything for a while. But I think it was just easy to use you to blame everything on because you let me. You just let me treat you like shit. You let me complain about your driving while you drove me anywhere I wanted to go. You let me blame you for Nancy being upset about the break up when she was the one who hurt you most. You let me think you were stupid when you’re brilliant enough to go to Harvard on a full scholarship. You let all of us take advantage of you and I don’t know why, but I wish I could turn back time and not let you do that. You didn’t deserve to be used by any of us, but especially me,” Mike said surprisingly sincerely.

In fact, Eddie watched Mike take a few deep breaths like he was holding back a sob.

“I am sorry for how we all treated you, Steve. I did not know that we hurt you. Dad said sometimes the people who hurt the most are the people who accept hurt as the way they are supposed to be treated, but that is not true. You should be loved so much, like Eddie loves you, by everyone. We should have done better,” El said as she held Max’s hand.

Dustin had been incredibly quiet, hiding in the back, not even looking up from the ground. Eddie could tell he wanted to say something, but probably didn’t know how to start.

It was no secret that Dustin was Steve’s favorite kid. It was also no secret that Dustin loved Steve like a brother, maybe even more, and that if Steve was upset, Dustin would want to make it right.

“I never had someone to look up to until you came around,” Dustin started, still not looking up from the ground. “My mom always felt bad that she didn’t give me a good role model or a brother or sister to look up to. But when you started watching over me, she felt like it was better this way. ‘That Harrington boy is special.’ That’s what she says all the time. And I guess I got used to her saying it and just didn’t think anything of it anymore. Like, yeah, you’re great. You do all kinds of stuff for me and for all of us, but it just felt like you wanted to so what made it so special? When Mike told us everything, it hit me that even if you wanted to do all that stuff, you still deserved a thank you. You went out of your way to make us safe and happy, and our only way to repay you was to constantly put you down and bully you. We spent years calling you out for what an asshole you were in high school while we ended up being assholes to you. You’re my brother and I haven’t been good to you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie was watching as Steve finally let out a sob he’d been holding in for too long. He pulled him into his chest, watching as the kids all wiped tears of their own away.

He knew the kids were genuinely sorry, he could tell that when faced with the reality of the way they treated Steve for years now, they felt terrible. But he also knew that Steve let it go on too long without saying something, and that it would take a while for him to really figure out a good balance of being there for the kids he loved and setting boundaries he needed to set long ago.

“Can you give him a minute guys? I’m sure he wants to talk to you all, but I think he just needs to calm down.”

The kids all nodded and scurried away.

They weren’t kids anymore, was the thing. They would always be kids to Steve, though. That’s why this was hurting so much. They were his nuggets, and they’d been unintentionally hurting him for years.

Steve had been so excited to tell them about getting into a pre-med program at IU, and when he couldn’t tell them, he changed. He was withdrawn in ways Eddie had never seen or expected. He was focused on school, and their relationship, but nothing else. He would go through the motions of driving the kids where he could when he could, throwing the occasional pool party, keeping up appearances.

He’d been exhausted for two years now. Running on fumes for miles, no end in sight. Until he got his acceptance into Harvard.

Eddie had never seen him so happy or proud of himself.

But the happiness faded quickly when he realized what telling the kids would mean, what going to Harvard would mean.

It meant moving, it meant leaving the kids, it meant spending the next 6-8 years so focused on school and residency that he probably wouldn’t have time to visit much outside of major holidays. It meant hoping that Eddie would come with him, support him, and love him regardless of the limited time he had to spend outside of school.

But Eddie would be there for every moment. He’d worked so hard, and Eddie wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

The kids would understand. They were almost graduated at this point, probably heading off to college themselves, and had their own lives to start.

“I wish I’d just told them about IU.”

“I know, sweetheart. But we can’t change the past. You’ve got such an amazing future ahead of you. Everyone is gonna be so proud of Dr. Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiled at that as Eddie dried his tears away.

When he’d calmed down completely, he walked over to where the kids were sitting on the porch.

He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips, a small smile on his face.

“If I forgive you all, will you stop looking like I just stole your ice creams and kicked your puppies?”

Dustin was the first to jump up and run into Steve, sobbing when Steve’s arms wrapped around him.

“It’s alright, bud. I love you, even when you’re a shithead, okay?”

All of the kids piled into Steve’s arms and around his back, all of them crying as Steve started telling them all about his program.

“I’m going to be a trauma surgeon. I was always pretty good at patching everyone up after Upside Down shit, so I figured why not make it a career? And I placed so high on the entrance testing, they suggested I go for pre-med instead of the EMT program. One of my professors my first semester suggested being a surgeon, so that’s the track I took.”

The kids looked at him in awe, like they were seeing him in a new light.

Eddie thought maybe they were finally seeing the Steve he’d seen all along.

—---------------------------------

May 11, 1997

“Steven Joseph Harrington, MD, summa cum laude.”

The cheers from his group were so loud, but they all ignored the dirty looks from the surrounding family and friends.

Steve Harrington was a Harvard graduate, a graduate with the highest honors, a trauma surgeon who already accepted his first position in a nearby hospital.

Everyone was so proud of him.

Wayne and Eddie had arranged for everyone to either ride in a rental car with Wayne or fly in to surprise Steve for his graduation.

He could see Steve look up into the crowd when he heard the screams, could see the grin spreading across his face as he realized his whole family was here to support him, just as they had been for the last eight years.

Everything Steve wanted and worked for was coming together, and everyone who believed in him was here cheering him on.

He was the best damn babysitter those kids had, and now he’d be the best damn trauma surgeon Boston Children’s Hospital would ever have.

[artsyape]

Roach is REALLY good at his job

[stuckinapril]

And on this Valentine’s I almost broke down in tears at a wife’s dedication to her heart surgeon husband whose brain is deteriorating with a rare case of dementia

[crippled-peeper]

I feel weird admitting this but I picked the female neurosurgeon out of the 5 other men they suggested because I feel like there’s a bigger chance she’ll actually listen to me and talk to me like a human person and not just an academic oddity

[hollowboobtheory]

Do you still have cancer or

see that's actually a more complicated question than you'd think. i won't be in remission for a while but as of my last scan i don't have any detectable tumors or metastases. i'm out of active treatment but i'm still in treatment to recover from treatment, like today i had speech/swallow therapy and we talked about possible treatments for my lymphedema. i'm still living mostly on nutrition shakes.

[the-ace-with-spades]

I have the urge to write a seven-season-long medical drama, so here is a concept for Top Gun Hospital AU with ER hate-to-love hangster AU that no one asked for.

as a warning: this is a bit incohesive and silly

All the aviators are doctors and all the WSOs are nurses. With the exception of Bradley (but there’s an explanation for it).

Mav — cardiothoracic surgeon; Ice — former neurosurgeon and Chief of Surgery, current Head of Patient and Medical Services (so, entirely admin). I imagine they have the same kind of relationship as House and Cuddy in this, including Ice keeping an entire legal team for Mav’s unconventional practice methods. They've met during med school and had been rivals up until they both finished general surgery residency. Slider is an OR nurse turned anesthesia nurse. Goose was an ER nurse and met Mav during his rotation as a med student and died after an incident in the ER during Mav’s residency (that was the moment he switched from emergency medicine to surgery).

Phoenix — emergency, but she managed the impossible (like Mav) and switched from obgyn residency after the first year (only chose obgyn in the first place because of her mom, a renowned obgyn in Oregon), she's still really passionate about the obgyn field but didn't enjoy the work enough to do it for the rest of her life; Javy — general surgery; Payback — emergency with sub-spec in pediatrics; Friz — respiratory medicine; Omaha — oncology; Yale — ortho surgery.

Bob — a former OBGYN nurse, left because of a toxic work environment, working in the ER six months now, Phoenix's favorite nurse now, duh; Fanboy — started in peds oncology, had to switch because it was too hard on him mentally and is now peds emergency; Halo — started as a palliative care nurse, switched to oncology after a few years; Harvard — OR nurse, switched from general team to ortho

Hangman is the new trauma surgeon starting in their ER. Born and raised on a ranch, was expected to take over the ranch but never wanted to. Thankfully, he had too perfect grades to not send him to college — his parents wanted him to be a vet, which obviously didn’t happen, so he could stay close to the family business. He moved to California for his MD. He has terrible bedside manners with patients and patients’ family, but is surprisingly decent with kids, has lost respect for nurses sometime during his first residency year, and had a terrible case of Ego hit him during his trauma surg fellowship.

Now, about Rooster:

Bradley got into a pre-med program, Mav (who had set up Bradley’s college fund) said he’s not going to pay for it since he doesn’t want Bradley to be a doctor (long hours, lack of work-life balance, burnout, high stress, etc. It was more complicated because Mav still has the Goose trauma). So they had the fallout, Bradley moved out and deferred college to find a way to pay for it and, wanting to gather hospital experience, started working as a CNA in Peds ICU at a children’s hospital which accidentally was having a new CNA intake at the time. He liked it, actually loved it, and started hesitating whether he should continue with pre-med and be like Mav or go for nursing, like his dad. Year after, he got an offer from the hospital that said hey, we’ll fund some of your BSN as long as you work for us while you study and then work for us for another four years after getting your license. So he became a nurse, got certified as peds nurse after working two years in PICU and after another three, switched to the Pediatric Rapid Response Team, where he stayed for another two years before getting a spot as a senior nurse in adult/peds ER in a different hospital.

His relation to Mav and Ice only came to light a few months after the hiring process, as Bradley didn’t even know they worked there when he applied and it’s still a hash-hash topic in the ER. He’s been in the ER for almost three years now and has become an unofficial second-in-command as one of the few with substantial experience.

I imagine he’s definitely one the best nurses you could have as a patient — he’s honest but in an empathetic way, he’s worked in the most demanding environments with the most complex patients (ICU and RRT), he’s skilled and experienced in most procedures. Because he is one of the few male nurses, he’s the one dealing with inappropriate patients, aggressive patients, patients that need restraint, frequent flyers, etc. and he genuinely doesn’t mind — he is the perfect mix of calm and firm that makes him very reliable in most difficult situations. He is absolutely most reassuring and guiding with new stuff, be it new nurses or med students that don’t know what’s happening, and he doesn’t judge. It does help, too, that he was partially raised by two very cocksure surgeons and therefore knows how to deal with doctors that turned a bit too arrogant.

Before I go to the hangster part of this shit, I want y’all to know it all started because I found this Rooster-coded scrubs:

I imagine that he buys most of his scrubs since the work-issued scrubs don’t fit well on men (most unisex ones are very much just female fit stamped with unisex label) and peds nurses can have lots of cute ones so the kids feel less nervous around them

Also, this is a warning that yes, Bradley is trans in this scenario, too, because I said so. It's relevant to a few scenes, I think?? and there's tw for transphobic OC

Now, a bunch of scenarios I can see for this AU:

On the first day at his new workplace, Jake makes a reputation for himself. He confuses Nat, in her hospital-issued scrubs and with her doctor tag clearly on display, for a nurse and literally talks over her in front of a patient. Same thing happens with Billy because he’s Filipino and there is a large number of Filipino nurses everywhere and he’s stereotyping. Then he makes another patient’s parents agitated. This is when he meets Bradley — he takes over to talk to the parents and calm them down before it can escalate, basically shushing Jake out of the room. Jake doesn’t clock he’s a nurse at first — he’s a big, very fit, very well-built, very handsome dude with a questionable mustache who looks comical in a pastel pink scrub top with a teddy bear pattern and a matching headband on his forehead, but also the sheer shock of how different to all the nurses he looks gives Jake a pause  — so he doesn’t say anything even if it pisses him off a nurse just forced him out of the room.

*

It starts innocently with Bradley though — Bradley comes up and asks, “Jake, can you put the narcotics order into the system for Lily?” and Jake scoffs and corrects, “Doctor,” tapping his full tag with Dr. Jacob Seresin.

Bradley, as the nurse’s tag says, raises an eyebrow and says, “Doctor Jake, can you put the narcotics order for Lily?”  Natasha, standing behind him, snorts. Jake doesn’t even have the time to tell him off because he’s already gone when his brain processes.

*

Natasha drops off a patient on him — a taxi driver who had a stroke while driving and had been in a car accident, that had been thrombolysed but might need emergency surgery because of a suspected GI bleed. He’s stable, so they're going to check if he can be admitted to neurosurg and wait for his turn there or if Jake will need to take over before that.

Bradley hands him a tablet the minute he walks into the room.

“What’s that?”

“Results,” he supplies before going back to setting up an oxygen cylinder at the bottom of the bed.

“I didn’t order that,” he notes. The blood and urine panels are what he would order with suspected operable GI bleed but he’s barely looked at the patient’s case before he walked in there.

“I did,” Bradley tells him as he switches the oxygen from the wall socket to the tank supply. “Faster this way.”

“No,” Jake says, blood boiling. “You do exactly what I tell you to do and only that.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, high on her forehead. Bradley doesn’t hesitate — waves on Bob from behind the glass wall and they both grab each side of the bed.

“I supposed you want to put the CT order yourself then,” Bradley says as Bob takes the small back monitor and attaches it to the frame. He steps on the bed brake and rolls out the bed, straight into Jake and Nat, fast enough that he moves out of the way on instinct. “Better do it fast because it’s free now and I’m going.” *

“Did you see that? Who the heck does he think he is?” Jake asks Nat.

“Better put that CT scan order,” is all Natasha replies as she walks away.

*

It’s Reuben’s patient, an eleven years old boy with blunt trauma, and Jake makes a verbal order to Bradshaw, who is the boy’s nurse. “I understand but I think that—” and Jake goes, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

The whole room gets quiet and everyone looks to him — Reuben, Mickey, and the technician are wide-eyed.

Bradley just says, “Alright,” in a perfectly leveled voice and leaves the room.

 Mickey is not making eye contact as he quips under his nose, on his way out of the room, “You do realize he basically runs this ER, right? You’re making your life a lot harder.”

*

Jake orders IV fluids for one of his patients which is also in Rooster’s section that day and he bleeps the order info to Rooster. Fifteen minutes later he sees that it hasn’t been filled and is like, hah, I knew there is a reason I hate that guy. Finds him when he passes Jake in the corridor and is like, “I want you to start the IV for room 7. Now,” and Rooster  just tells him, “No, do it yourself or find someone else.” 

They have a little back and forth as Jake follows him down the corridor which ends with another, “No.”

There’s still no charge nurse in the ER (she’s on medical leave that will most likely end with her leaving employment, from what Jake gathers) so he makes a datix and the ER nurse manager (Warlock) following up is apprehensive because obviously, he knows Bradley, and hears about what actually happened — Bradley was getting an igel for a toddler from the peds side and deemed it more important than starting a bag of saline to bust someone's blood pressure.

Jake feels like an idiot.

*

Jake and Reuben are charting next to each other and Reuben gets bleeped his patient’s lab results. Jake, who is also waiting for lab results, complains about how he sent a pod to the lab before Reuben. Reuben just gives him a look and says, “Yeah, that’s because I asked Bradley to put my request in.”

And Jake is like, “What does he have to do with anything?”

Reuben looks at him like he’s dumb and says, “He has more sway with the lab,” and walks away with his tablet.

*

Javy is doing a consult for Nat and stops to chat to Jake (they know each other from residency days) and Bradley comes by and says, “Maggie’s becoming hypotensive again,” and Javy observes as Jake looks at the nurse that came, gives him a very long, very detailed look and licks his lips.

He manages to think Oh before Jake asks, “Maggie?”

The nurse looks seconds from rolling his eyes. “Mrs. Lawrence? Room 5?” 

“That's Margaret.”

“She prefers Maggie.”

And it goes on, with Jake standing there rigid, puffing up his chest and cocking his hip out. “Did you start the fluids?”

“Finshed already.”

“Start another bag.”

The nurse looks unimpressed and instead of confirming says, slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “Her fluid balance is positive. She’s usually on pressors.” Jake’s face gets red and he goes, “Then put an order for her.”

It’s kind of funny to observe and to be fair, the nurse does give Jake a minute to go over what he said, leaning his elbow on the counter, eyebrows raised, before he points out, in that damn slow, unimpressed tone, “I can't put orders for things like pressors."

He hands Jake the closest tablet and starts walking away.

Jake calls after him. "What, you're not even going to draft it for me?"

He doesn't even turn around and Javy is silently shaking from the laughter he's holding in, "I thought I wasn't allowed to do that, doctor."

*

Mav comes down to the ER to talk to Rooster on a slower day — about how they’re about to sponsor a new CRNA for the cardiothoracic surg unit and maybe he could put a good word for their development team for Bradley and yada yada.

It happens like that: Mav comes down, Bradley is charting next to the monitors station, Jake is going over a scan on the opposite side when The Dr. Mitchell himself comes down and stops next to Bradley. He gives Bradley and his pink Paw Patrol scrubs a look and clears his throat a couple of times before Bradley raises his gaze toward him, turning away a second later and ignoring him again.

Jake is freaking out — this is The Dr. Mitchell and one of the reasons Jake wanted to work in this exact hospital, along with the rumored to-be-announced cardiothoracic surg fellowship under Dr. Mitchell he had his eyes on. He’s been thinking about how to make contact with Dr. Mitchell since he started in the ER and here he is, telling unresponsive Bradshaw, “I heard you’re looking to go back for your Master’s in the near future.” Bradshaw doesn’t say anything and Dr. Mitchell adds, “We have a CRNA development spot for—” and Bradley tells him, not turning away from the screen, “I’m not an OR nurse,” and then taps his card on the computer’s reader to log out and walks away.

Dr. Mitchell is a fucking legend, a VIP of this hospital, so Jake just stands there, contemplating how the heck Bradshaw could do that and hears him mumbling under his breath, “Really slick, Mav,” and jumps on the opportunity to say, “I’ll be talking to his supervisor about this, his attitude is unacceptable, Dr. Mitchell.”

And Dr. Mitchell turns to him, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Excuse me?” 

“The nurse you were talking to. He might be senior in here but his attitude’s been horrible and I’ll personally step in. This won’t happen again.”

Dr. Mitchell gives him a look before slowly saying, “I suggest you mind your own business, Dr. Seresin,” and walks away.

Nat is silently laughing a few feet away and Jake asks her what’s so funny. His heart dead-ass stops when she says, “You do know Dr. Mitchell is Bradley’s dad, right? They might not be on the best of terms but that’s still his son.” And Jake has the urge to bang his head on the keyboard in front of him. 

* 

TW for transphobia.

There’s a new nurse practitioner to be (graduated, about to get her cert) that's rumored to be a candidate for the charge nurse position. Izzy. She’s quite young for that, younger than Bradley for sure, must have barely worked in the clinical area before going for her Master’s. Jake doesn’t know if it’s on purpose but the nurse manager and Bradley keep on putting her in his section.

She’s—well, she’s a bit too in his face. She agrees with everything Jake says and doesn’t roll his eyes at him, which is boring, and she’s, for an NP, not that knowledgeable. She doesn’t argue with him, which is a change, and Jake starts to hate it after about five hours. Her voice is saccharine sweet, she keeps on standing a bit too close to him at all times, and she’s decent with patients, but she keeps on asking him about the smallest of things.

Jake’s section is less busy, usually, since he deals primarily with trauma in the ER, but she never bounces off to help others when she is free, like Bradley did. She’s clinging to his section, a little bit, and he doesn’t get why. It’s not like he is any nicer to her than to Bradley or any other nurse.

She is busy taking bloods and Bradley finds him when he has a second alone, finally, and enlightens him about why.

“If you don’t believe me, you can just ask any other nurse. Everyone noticed.”

“If you really think that then why do you keep putting her in my sections?”

“I don’t. She’s senior as an NP, she’s taken over allocation from me now.”

Jake’s mind only focuses on one detail. “You were allocating yourself to my sections?”

“Only because no one wants to work with you and because I’m actually certified in trauma.” That makes sense. It’s not like Bradley would work with him voluntarily. “Look, all I’m saying, you watch out — you fool around with her and then reject her and she’s going to HR. I know the type.”

“The type?”

“You know, the girl that thought she’ll become a nurse, snag a rich doctor and never work again? Well, it’s not always women, there are guys who do that too, but in this case, she’s very much the type.”

“And you think she’s trying to—snag me?”

“She’s certainly not going after the residents that are getting paid twelve bucks an hour or Reuben who is married,” he points out. Which, again, fair, even if he didn’t know Reuben is married prior to this strange conversation.

Jake stares at him, processing, until he blurts out, “I’m gay.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Bradley says after a second, eyes barely noticeably a bit wider, before he walks away.

“Was he bothering you, doctor?”

She calls him doctor, always, and it honestly makes him grit his teeth. Now even more. He’s got a bad feeling about it.

It gets confirmed later when Jake is taking care of a six-year-old girl who had fallen down the stairs. She’s dehydrated and Izzy’s just tried to put a cannula on her three times before Jake told her to grab the bedside ultrasound and not make the girl cry even more.

Bradley passes by the room and Jake’s learned that he can’t leave a distressed child alone, so he comes in and gets the parents and the girl relaxed. He’s about to go in and tell him to leave it alone until Izzy brings the ultrasound when Nat grabs him by the arm and tells him, “He was in a Rapid Response Team, I’m pretty sure he can put a cannula in blind. Just let him do it.”

And he does let him. Watches, expecting the girl to burst into tears at any moment but she never does. Bradley’s literally been in the room for less than ten minutes and it’s all back to calmness.

Izzy comes back with the ultrasound. It should not have taken her so long to grab it. “What is he doing there? That's my patient.”

"He said he can put the IV line without the ultrasound.” Well, Nat said so. Jake can’t believe he’s saying but, “He’s a peds nurse, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure the girl's parents wouldn’t want him anywhere near her.”

This sets alarm bells in Jake’s head. “What do you mean?”

"People like him shouldn't be around kids," she says, to his horror. She leans in, way closer than needed, and conspiringly whispers, "Dr. Seresin, haven't you known that he is, you know, a she in disguise?"

He’s dumbstruck. "I'm sorry?"

"He's actually a woman, just pretending to be a man because he's mentally—You're the doctor, I'm sure you know better than I how the brains of people like them work. He shouldn't be around that girl, is what I'm saying. I certainly wouldn't like him around my child, if I had one."

Jake didn’t know this about Bradley but he understands what she means, even with how awful she is about it. This, however, should not be a piece of information thrown around in public if Bradley didn't wish to disclose it, and certainly not in such a manner. "And how do you know that, exactly?"

"Nurses share a locker room, it's not hard to notice how she, you know, mutilated herself."

Jake doesn’t say anything out loud but mentally he is preparing datix report in his head. He catches the ER’s nurse manager before he goes home, too, because that’s some shit he doesn’t stand for. He might be an asshole but he’s not a bigot.

Next time he comes to work, Bradley is back in his section and Izzy is no longer employed.

“Thanks,” Bradley says, when they’re at the station, next to each other, in a relatively slow moment. “If I went on my own, we’d have a weeks-long investigation that would probably end with her or me moving to a different unit.”

“She said this shit to your face?”

“Kept calling me she in front of patients,” Bradley admits after a moment. “I think most of them thought they misheard but—I knew.”

“Well, good riddance then.”

Bradley snorts, but he’s looking down at the tablet in his hands, smiling, and wow, the apples of his cheeks are so round and his eyes so bright and Jake can't breathe for a second.

---

(there might be a second part coming because I meant seven-season-long medical drama literally-- including Jake realizing he's an idiot, Mavdad drama, Jake having his hands inside Bradley (in the literal, surgical sense) and jealousy that could rival the McDreamy/Dr. Grey drama)

[sergle]

ok. so. the ballpark I got for the NYC surgeon I was aiming for may have been 15k but the actual QUOTE. for that guy. is 23k. We love that.

[johnny--hoestar]

Happy Pride specifically to Ienaga Kano, a canonical trans woman from the manga and anime series Golden Kamuy <33

[melon-moth]

long rick and morty rambling post bc it’s midnight and I’m thinking about this. I’m kind of surprised not many more people like beth. I know she’s not perfect and one of the versions of Morty’s mom (either the original cronenberg version or the new one) evidently loves summer more and I have thoughts and opinions on that but for as much as Rick fucks up & proves he’s not a great person, I feel like beth is much more aware of her actions than rick (and is certainly in no way as awful or cruel as he can be) but from what I’ve seen, the fandom still views beth as this unforgivable sociopathic menace & then they turn around and praise Rick for being 10x worse. beth and rick are bad in different ways but it’s. odd to both romanticize rick and claim that beth is a terrible person if you’re not also agreeing that Rick is a terrible person. maybe I’m biased because I love beth and relate to her a LOT but I guess I’m just surprised that very few ppl in the fandom seem to obsess over beth the way they do with Jerry or even summer. idk beth is so pretty and cool and I think the fandom forgets how sick and awesome she is and I wish there was more content of her. mmkay done rambling now gn