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One of the residents scurries up to Roach, a look of alarm on her face. There comes a time in the ER when you’ve seen just about everything, and can face it all with good humor and a chuckle. The kids will reach that point in time. That or they'll burn out.
“Dr. Roach! Head nurse Hands is in room 4.”
Roach frowns. “It’s his day off, isn’t it? He’s not on shift or on call. Cant’ the stubborn bastard rest-” Roach blinks, brain catching up with what the resident had actually said. “He’s here as a patient?”
“Yes sir,” They begin powerwalking to the room in question.
“Fuck.” Doctors and nurses made some of the worst patients, unwilling to take another professional's advice and convinced their own suffering wasn’t a big deal. Add to that Izzy’s temperament. “Surprised he came in at all.”
It must be bad, for Izzy to go to the ER, he’s seen the man drag himself through shifts with a full-blown migraine. With his bad leg and digestive issues, ignored for years, he’s generally mistrustful of most doctors and astonishingly bad at taking care of himself. It's taken Roach years of effort to help even the little amount he's been able to, getting the stubborn asshole to use a cane when he needs to and stick to diets that don't exacerbate his issues.
“A drunk friend of his dragged him in. It looks like Mr. Hands tried to do first aid on himself.”
“Fuck.”
For most patients, good humor and a smile is the right approach, but Roach knows better than to try to “bedside manner” his way around Izzy in a mood. This will be a battle of wills. “Knock knock” he announces before pulling the curtain aside without waiting for an answer. He finds a predictably fuming Izzy with his “drunk friend,” a man with an impressive mustache from a bygone era.
Izzy glares. “Of course, you’d be the doctor on today. Just my luck.”
“Yep,” Roach shrugs, “not one of the ones who’re intimated by you, I’m afraid.” Head-nurse Hands is the terror of the hospital, and heaven help whatever poor soul steps out of line or disregards a patient's complaints as "in their head." There's a grudging respect between Roach and Izzy, but most of the other doctors fear the wrath of the nusre.
He extends his hand to “drunk friend”. “Dr. Roach, thank you for dragging him in. Can't have been easy, with this one.”
“They let a Roach in a hospital?” he guffaws at his own joke, “”m Jack.”
Jack. Roach recalls stories about college and frat parties. Fantastic. “Now, which of you two will tell me what happened?” He asks, no-nonsense.
Izzy adjusts his glasses, looking away embarrassed.
“Fucks sake.” Roach drops the professional facade he knows won’t work on Izzy. “was it a sex thing, alcohol, drugs, or some combo of them? You know I’ve seen it all.”
Izzy remains stubbornly silent for the most part, so he has to get the story from Jack, who keeps rambling and cracking jokes. Izzy corrects Jack occasionally. Eventually, he gets somewhat of a picture. Izzy’s ex, who he has a “complicated” relationship with got engaged, and asked Izzy to be his best man. Izzy proceeded to contact Jack, old mutual friend/fuck buddy. After getting drunk, Izzy had asked Jack to hurt him, a lot, to drown out the emotions.
What had followed had been consensual, but certainly not safe. In Roach’s professional opinion someone needed to teach Jack some basic anatomy and safe ways to inflict pain before he was ready to dom anyone.
When they were both slightly more sober, Jack relazied that Izzy’s sloppy bandages and spatula wrapped on his arm as a splint weren’t good enough, and had dragged a protesting Izzy to the hospital in an uber.
While he listens, examines the various cuts, bruises, and burns. The broken arm is the most serious of the issues, but some of these are going to need stitches. There are places it’s safe to spank or whip, and there are places that are not. Its only a relief that Jack hadn’t accidentally damaged any of Izzy’s organs. Fucking hell.
“Could’ve at least taken me to a hospital I don’t work at.” Izzy grumbles, once the story is finished.
Roach is personally glad Jack hadn’t thought of that. Izzy wouldn’t have trusted most doctors, most people, to manhandle him and treat his injuries like this. Now there’s a thought.
By the time all of the injuries are treated, stitches done, and Izzy’s arm is in a cast, Jack has dozed off and has been moved to his own area for observation.
Roach puts a hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you how stupid this was,”
“Good,” he snaps back.
What he’s about to propose is entirely unprofessional, but to keep the hardest working member of the staff, someone he cares about deeply, safe? Roach is willing to break a few rules for Izzy.
Roach presses against one of the more superficial cuts, and Izzy hisses. “Next time you want someone to hurt you, come to me. I know what I’m doing, will take good care of you.” He won’t land Izzy in the ER, which should be a lot more fun for everyone in the long run.
The ordinary snarled response doesn’t seem to be coming. Izzy tilts his head, considering the offer. “Sir?” he asks, testing it out, pupils blown wide behind his glasses.
Roach shrugs, grinning a little at seeing this new side of his head nurse. “If you like. Probably best to discuss this off the clock though.”
Izzy leans up, kissing the corner of Roach’s mouth before letting him go. “I’d like that.”