Pairing: Vinnie Vincent x Duff McKagan
Setting: Backstage of a sold-out Guns N' Roses concert – 1992
Trigger warning: Medical emergency (pancreatitis-related), hospital setting, surgery descriptions (within TOS)
The crowd was screaming.
The lights were blinding.
And Duff McKagan was dying.
He didn't know it at the time, of course. Not exactly. All he knew was that something inside him had ripped—a pain so vicious it stole the breath from his lungs mid-song. One second he was belting out harmonies and pounding bass, and the next?
The floor was rushing up to meet him.
The last thing he saw before blacking out was Axl's face twisted in panic.
ER – St. Augustine General Hospital
7:52 p.m.
"Thirty-four-year-old male, found unresponsive backstage mid-concert. Vitals unstable, BP tanking. Suspected GI hemorrhage or pancreatic rupture!"
Vinnie Vincent was already scrubbing in before the paramedics had finished the hand-off. He didn't usually take emergency trauma call—he preferred the quiet precision of scheduled surgeries—but this?
This was personal.
Duff McKagan was unconscious, pale, curled inward on the stretcher like he was trying to protect his own organs.
"CBC, chem panel, LFTs, lipase, now!"
The surgical intern trailing him was shaking. "Dr. Vincent—his lipase is off the charts. 11,000."
"Pancreatic rupture," Vinnie said instantly, voice like steel. "Get him to OR One."
Operating Room One – 8:17 p.m.
The room was frigid. Sterile. Calm.
Vinnie's gloved fingers moved fast—scalpel in hand, precise incision down the midline. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion. Behind the mask, his eyes were cold with focus.
"God, there's necrosis," murmured the intern beside him. "It's all over the head of the pancreas."
"Clamp that bleeder," Vinnie ordered sharply. "Retract the transverse colon. I need clear visualization."
This was bad. Worse than the scans had shown. His pancreas hadn't just ruptured—it had begun to digest itself. Acute necrotizing pancreatitis. And the inflammation was spreading fast.
"Okay," Vinnie muttered under his breath. "We're doing a partial pancreatectomy. Suction. Now."
Piece by piece, he worked through the devastation—removing the damaged tissue, controlling the bleeding, irrigating the inflamed area until it looked almost stable. There was no room for error. One wrong move and Duff would either bleed out or crash from sepsis.
The monitors screamed briefly—Duff's pressure dipped.
"Vasopressors. Push epi."
His hands didn't even flinch.
This wasn't just another surgery. This was Duff. His Duff. The man who once called him a glittery alien freak in a backstage hallway, and kissed him five minutes later.
He wasn't going to let him die.
Recovery Room – 12:09 a.m.
"Vitals are stabilizing, Dr. Vincent."
Vinnie let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His gown was soaked in sweat. His gloves were sticky. But Duff was alive.
Alive.
He stood beside the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of Duff's chest under the oxygen mask.
"You scared the shit out of me," he muttered, voice hoarse. "You idiot."
The nurse quietly stepped out of the room.
Vinnie sat down at Duff's bedside and let the exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. He reached for Duff's hand, still wrapped in gauze from the IV line, and held it tight.
Duff stirred, eyelids fluttering.
"Vinnie...?"
"Hey," Vinnie said softly, blinking back a swell of emotion. "You're okay. I got you."
Duff gave him a weak smile. "You look like hell."
"And you look like you tried to fight your pancreas and lost."
A breathless chuckle. "Did you... save me?"
"I cut half your damn pancreas out," Vinnie said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Duff's forehead. "You're stuck with me now."
Duff's eyes fluttered shut again, this time with peace.
"Good," he mumbled. "Wouldn't want it any other way."
Epilogue – Two Weeks Later
Duff was sitting on the hospital bed in a robe, sipping terrible juice and rolling his eyes as Vinnie checked his dressings for the hundredth time.
"You're hovering."
"I'm monitoring," Vinnie corrected, hands firm but gentle.
Duff grabbed his wrist. "You're also in love with me."
Vinnie's eyes softened. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
Duff smirked. "Then come sit your hot surgeon ass down next to me and kiss me like I didn't almost die."
Vinnie did exactly that.
YOU ARE READING
Bandom One-shots book 3
FanfictionI take requests! Fluff, Smut and Angst Lots of bands from the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s. I also take requests for SOME artists from the 2000s but I prefer anything before that :)
