Work Text:
Charlie
“Come on Wembleyyyyy!”
The frontman’s roar surges over the crowd, which, even though already manic, manages to ramp up its energy another few notches.
Thousands upon thousands of bodies start jumping up and down, as if trying to shake the very foundations of the enormous stadium. Thousands upon thousands of voices joining together in a huge chorus, shouting back the words towards the stage in unison.
Our time is ruuuuuuning out, our time is ruuuuuning out…
And I’m right there, in the middle of it all, my soul singing and soaring. This is my church. Nowhere do I feel more at home and at peace with myself than in the crowd of a massive gig.
I airdrum with abandon, forming an impromptu band with the random guy playing air guitar next to me. I jump and dance until my lungs are burning, and I don’t even care that I lost Sahar ages ago, when her attention was diverted by a blonde girl with huge blue eyes. We’ll find each other afterwards. Or not, depending on how lucky she’s getting tonight.
I might be eternally single, and luckless where matters of the heart are concerned, but I don’t even care as long as I have music. I’m an independent Charlie and I don’t need a man.
What I suddenly realise I need though, is water. And urgently so.
It’s always a dangerous balance to maintain. Drink enough to stay hydrated, but not so much that you need to go pee mid-concert, lest you miss out on your favourite song being played.
It’s even more difficult with huge stadium gigs like today, where you spend ages queuing beforehand to get a good spot in front of the stage. Anyway, I feel the tell-tale signs coursing through my body that today, I very much miscalculated. My head is all spinny, and black and white spots start to pop into my field of vision. My knees give way a little and I gasp for air, my chest feeling too tight to breathe.
The crowd suddenly surging forward as the song crescendos doesn’t help either.
I try to use the momentum of the press of bodies to push me further to the front, in an attempt to get myself lifted out by security personnel. At this point, there’s no way I’d be able to make my way out through the crowd behind me and just walk up to one of the bars scattered around the stadium to get myself a drink.
“I need out!” I shout out to no one in particular, but that technique usually works this close to the stage.
And luckily, it does today.
On top of everything, one of my Converse starts slipping from my foot as the strong arms of two security workers lift me out of the throng of people.
With the mental facilities I still possess, I try to angle my toes so that I don’t lose my fucking shoe, but alas, I feel fresh air hit my besocked left foot and someone behind me shouts “Free shoe!” as I’m pulled out and over the barrier.
I have one second of realising how fucking close I am to my musical heroes before my body reminds me that it’s currently in a tiny bit of a crisis. For another second, I think being out of the crowd helped already and that I’m gonna be fine to just waltz back into the crowd, but then… everything goes black.
🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸
Nick
“Ooop, we’ve got incoming!” my colleague shouts and directs my attention to the double door of our first aid station that’s just swung open. There’d been a slight lull in patients being brought in and we were passing the time by watching the concert on one of the wall-mounted screens.
Not exactly my kind of music, but what a show!
But of course, with such a huge crowd, it was only a matter of minutes until someone else rolled their ankle, took an elbow to the face or fell down in a weird way.
Or… as seems to be the case with our newest case, fainted.
It’s a young man, and two security workers are carrying him in easily, his head lolopping down to his chest. I know they could revive most of the fainters right where they fall. But it’s protocol to bring them to us so we can check there’s no other underlying issue that a bit of water, some air and putting their feet up wouldn’t fix.
I help them lay him on a free gurney, and the burly men leave as soon as I indicate that we’ve got it from here. My colleague rushes over with one of the big foam pillows we use to elevate his legs – poor guy even lost a shoe – and I brush his dark hair out of his face to check for any injuries.
Except, what actually happens is that I feel my stomach drop out of my arse. Not because the action reveals a gruesome cut or anything, no. But from underneath these soft curls, the most gorgeous face is revealed to me, and I feel my breath stutter.
Striking brows, plump cherry lips and a jaw that would probably cut my skin, were I to trace it with my finger.
Which I’m obviously not gonna do, that would be awfully unprofessional.
I shake myself, glad that my colleague didn’t notice my lapse in behaviour and try to focus on the job at hand.
His breathing is even and normal, pulse still a little slow and the blood pressure a bit low, but he’s already stirring, so I grab a bottle of water to have it ready as soon as he’s conscious enough.
The boy’s eyes slowly flutter open and I have to hold on to the cot for balance myself, as they glitter in the most beautiful and enchanting palette of blues and greys I have ever seen. I am utterly transfixed and feel myself starting to sweat a little.
Of course something super unprofessional like losing my mind over a cute guy would happen to me. I need to get a grip, I really can’t afford to lose this job. It’s what makes it possible for me to go to uni without badgering Papa for money.
“Oh.” The slightly hoarse voice of my patient brings me back to the matter at hand. “Did I die?”
“What? No, of course not. You fainted, you’re probably just dehydrated!”
The boy, roughly the same age as I am, keeps staring at me and ignores the water bottle I’m offering him.
“But… you’re an angel, aren’t you?” he mumbles. Fuck, did he hit his head? The security guys didn’t mention it, but they might have missed that.
I grab my pen light and switch it between his eyes. They sparkle in the bright light, but his pupillary reaction is normal.
“No,” I laugh. “I’m a paramedic. Do you know where you are? And what your name is?”
He seems to come back into himself a little more, luckily, as he tries to sit up.
I lightly push him back down onto the gurney. “No, please answer me lying down, until we can be sure you’re stable.”
“O-okay.” His eyes seem to travel from my hand and up along my arm. Then he swallows heavily. I feel heat prickling over my skin from his roaming gaze. Jesus. Chill out, Nelson.
He takes a deep breath. “Muse gig. Charlie.”
“Good, that’s good.” I smile at him. “Charlie, do you think you’d be able to sit up and drink a little water for me?”
To my relief, he nods, and I slowly help him to a sitting position. I open the bottle for him, stick a straw in it and hold it up to his mouth. He takes the straw between his soft, pillowy lips and drinks a few sips. While he is sucking on the straw, his gorgeous blue-grey eyes never leave mine and I feel sweat prickling at my neck from the intensity of his gaze.
Before I make a complete tit of myself and blurt out something about how his eyes are a drowning hazard, I overcorrect with an only slightly patronising, “Excellent! Well done!”
Charlie laughs as he lies back down and I help him put his feet back up on the pillow. “You’re easily pleased…” Then, Charlie groans and swipes his hands over his face.
“Uuuuughhh…”
“Oh no, what is it? Does your head hurt? Do you feel nauseous?” I enquire, running through my internal list of possible symptoms following syncope.
“Nooo, I’m just very embarrassed and also mad at myself for all the songs I’ve probably already missed.”
I can’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Yeah, but at least you’re alive, and I for one, am very glad about that!”
Whoops. That kinda slipped out.
His gaze pierces me questioningly as I feel myself blush at this blurted out admission. Why am I always such a disaster? Be a professional for once, Nelson!
“Are you now, eh? Well, I suppose it would be bad for your statistics if I weren’t, right?” he quips.
“Well yes, and also you’re far too beautiful to be dead!”
Oh for fuck’s sake!
“Fuck, I’m so sorry I just said that, that was so unprofessional of me! And now I’m swearing in front of a patient. Please don’t report me, I really need this job!” I whisper urgently at him.
Charlie blinks twice, then laughs.
“Calm down. You brought me back to life, I’m not about to report you!”
I won’t point out to him that his state wasn't quite as dramatic, so I just smile gratefully. “Thank you. How are you feeling now? Wanna try and sit up again?”
“Yeah okay.” He nods and I slowly help him to pivot himself upright for the second time, which is when his face falls. “Fuck, my shoe! Well now I definitely can’t go back into the crowd…”
He sighs, dejected. “Everything’s gone wrong. Lost my friend, lost my shoe, fainted and missed part of the show, and of course the parame–”
Charlie gasps and his cheeks pinken up.
A split second decision tells me I might as well ask. “The parame… dic? Of course the paramedic what?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head slowly, but a small smile spreads over his face as his blush increases.
“Nick, when you’re done with your patient, you can take your break,” my supervisor calls over from her desk.
🚑🚑🚑🚑🚑
Charlie
Christ alive, that was a close call. Nearly told the hot paramedic that he is, indeed, a hot paramedic. A fucking hot paramedic apparently called Nick. It should be illegal to be this hot whilst working for health services. My heart rate must be all over the place.
I kinda feel the urge to flirt with him, even though he looks rather straight, but I shouldn’t be assuming. I did spot a pin in pink, purple and blue colours on his lanyard, but also he’s at work, so I’d rather not make him uncomfortable.
I must have zoned out a little, because Nick is looking at me with concern again. “Well? How do you feel? Think you can stand up on your own?”
I frown. “Eager to get rid of me, eh?”
He shrugs and answers, “It’s not like I’m desperate for a break, but… But to be honest, I am in a bit of a hurry to get rid of you as a patient.”
I feel my face fall to the ground. Of course. I’m a fucking idiot. Good thing I didn’t have time to start in earnest with the flirting. “Oh. I see. Sorry.”
Keeping my eyes glued to the floor, I take the water bottle and drink another sip. Anything so I don’t have to look at him right now.
Of course the hottest and sweetest guy I meet in fucking ages is very eager to be rid of me and to never see me again.
I hear him take a sharp breath and then he speaks louder than is probably usual in a medical setting. “No! Not like that, no!”
Huh, what? I look up, my frown even more intense, but now due to rising confusion. “No?”
Oh, he’s actually blushing himself.
“It’s just… Right now, I need to stay professional with you and…” He drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I kinda would like to stop having to do that… if you don’t mind.”
I’m glad I swallowed the sip of water in my mouth, or else I’d probably have sprayed it all over Nick. Well now…
Suddenly very revitalised, I stand up from the cot with a little hop.
“Oh look at that, I’m all better, Dr. Nick!”
“Erm, good, but I’m not a doc–”
“Nurse Nick then? I’ve always had a thing for alliterations!” I laugh and look closer at his lanyard. I can’t help the huge grin that spreads over my face. “Wait? N. Nelson? You’re Nurse Nick Nelson? That’s even better!”
“Also not really a nurse, you know. Just a paramedic as a side job…”
“Well anyway… if your break is now… and I can’t believe I’m asking you that, my brain must still be addled. Wanna come watch my favourite band with me?”
To my utmost surprise, he blushes even more and nods enthusiastically.
“Yeah, actually… I’d love that.” He winks and adds. “Also, I can keep an eye on you and make sure you stay stable.”
Before I can overthink it, more words fall out of my mouth. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t mind if you’d make me a little unstable.”
Nick’s super cute freckles vanish under all the colour rushing to his face.
“Chaaarlie!”
The stern looking woman sitting at a desk makes me fill out some paperwork and once I’m done, Nick surprises me with… well, not a shoe exactly, but with something he fabricated out of bandages, tape and a plastic bag.
“Is this like a reverse Cinderella situation?” I laugh, even though I’m very thankful I won’t have to dip my besocked toes in concert debris.
“Well, does it fit?” he asks excitedly. “I’m not really the crafty type, but I thought it’d be better than nothing.”
I can’t help but beam at him. “It’s perfect, Nick. Absolutely per–”
“Oh wait!” Nick exclaims. “There’s something missing!”
He grabs a marker and bends down to my feet, I can’t help noticing the way his back muscles ripple under his obscenely tight polo shirt. It’s a wonder the sleeves haven’t ripped under the strain of all those biceps, triceps and other ceps.
“There, now I’m done.”
He’s drawn tiny leaves and stars all over the makeshift shoe and fuck my heart, that’s adorable.
Nick grabs his things and says quick goodbyes to his colleagues and turns to me.
In delusional hope, I hold out my hand to him and it must truly be my lucky day, because he takes it in his and squeezes.
“Okay, show me your favourite band.”
Hand in hand, we walk from the first aid area back into the arena and, the fucking kismet of it all, just as Muse get the crowd clapping for the start of Starlight.
I can’t wait to sing some of the lyrics right into Nick’s face… I really want to hold him in my arms. And from the way he’s looking at me as the music and words wash over us, I think the feeling might be mutual.