In the emergency room at Denver North Hospital, you don't say the word quiet. It's basically a swear word, the equivalent of saying Macbeth in a theater. So, when Neil hears one of the new cleaners say, "It's kind of quiet tonight," on an - admittedly quiet - night in July, he rushes into the bay the cleaner is sanitizing and hisses at her to shut up.
Her eyes grow massive, she gasps out a "Sorry," and presses her lips together.
"We do not say the Q word in this ER," Neil chastises.
The cleaner's partner, Jessica, snorts from where she's mopping near the back wall. "Don't scare the poor girl off, Neil."
"Serves her right for bringing Armageddon down on us," Neil says, cocking an eyebrow at the new cleaner. "I don't think we've met yet. I'm Neil."
"Maddie," she squeaks. Her eyes catch on Neil's cheekbone and then fall to his arms where he's forgotten to roll down his undershirt. His face and hand scars are hard to hide, but he tries to keep the scars on his arms hidden from patients, especially kids, because they tend to either scare them or distract them when he's asking them questions. But it is unbearably hot in the ER tonight, and while typing up some notes, he pushed them up to his elbows.
"Usually, I don't show off my battle scars until we've survived a night shift together," he says, tugging at his sleeves. "I'm told I make a scary first impression. They don't help."
Maddie blinks a few times. "No." She shakes her head. "Sorry. No. Didn't mean to stare. And sorry about the-the Q word. Didn't even think."
"It's not as serious as he makes it out to be," Jessica says, rounding the bed with her mop and bucket.
Neil shakes his head. "Just you wait."
Sure enough, not five minutes later, a four-car accident brings three minor injured passengers and two critically injured drivers. Neil doesn't even have a chance to say "I told you so" to Jessica or Maddie, because after that, there's a 90-year-old man having a heart attack and a middle-aged woman who had a seizure at her son's track meet.
It's around ten pm when Neil gets more than sixty seconds to breathe. But just as he's about to talk to the head nurse on duty, Peggy, about getting a break, another ambulance rolls up. Despite his exhaustion, Neil stops in his tracks and stares. The man being wheeled in by the paramedics is none other than Andrew Minyard.
On any other day with any other patient, Neil would pull the small seniority card he's painstakingly built up and beg for a chance just to sit for ten minutes and drink a bottle of water. But it's Andrew. Minyard. It's one of Neil's favorite Exy players, the goalie who holds the record for most career saves and who's on the shortlist for the Olympic team. He can't not take the chance to be near Andrew Minyard.
Andrew catches him staring and cocks an eyebrow. He's still in his Denver Sharks uniform, bright blue drowning out his hazel eyes, and he's sat rather awkwardly on the gurney. His twin brother, Aaron, is holding his right arm at chest height, and he shuffles along with the paramedics as they maneuver him into Bay 8.
It's not until he doctor on duty tonight, Dr. Jensen, swooshes past that Neil snaps back into action and follows. He pushes through the curtain just as the team shuffles Andrew from the ambulance gurney to the ER bed. Andrew's face stays blank, but it's obvious he's in quite a bit of pain. Neil catches his tiny winces and flinches, and the way Aaron adjusts his arm when he mumbles something to him.
Neil slides into place next to another nurse, Katelyn, who's preparing an IV on the cart near Andrew's head and tries not to stare at Andrew's thighs. It's one thing to see Exy players on TV in their tiny shorts and a whole other thing to see them up close.
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A Quiet Night | An All for the Game Fanfiction
FanfictionNeil Josten has been in Witness Protection for seven years, working as an ER nurse and avoiding getting close to anyone. When Andrew Minyard shows up in the ER with a dislocated shoulder, his world is flipped on its head.