Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Doctor, Doctor | T.H

Summary: Your boyfriend gets into an accident on set and you're the first one there to help. (Doctor!Reader x Tom)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, hospital stuff ya know. Fluffy ending.

Words: 2.2k

for Ambers writing challenge! "Don't die on me, please!"

If this seems similar to your work then message me for credit/removal.

-

"There was an incident on some movie set, a stunt gone wrong."

The second you saw him you were overcome with the urge to allow your knees to give out, for your hands to tremble with utter fear because in no way did he look good- he looked fixable, but nowhere near good and you doubted that it was even the same man you knew, the same one you fell in love with as his tousled curls lay strewn across his forehead, matted together thanks to a pool of hot blood.

Instead, you clenched your fists, the rubber of your gloves skin tight against your palms as you came up with a plan of action on the spot. The dark blue scrubs swayed as you marched- no, ran towards the bed.

"He's got a light pulse, it's hard to find but it's there." The ambulance offer repeated.

You seem to let out a sigh of relief, your heart skipping a beat at the mention of a pulse. He was alive, his heart was beating and blood was running through his veins for now. Immediately you set to work, assessing the situation and every wound that bore his shirtless- reasonably tattered body.

But you swore that your heart had done a somersault and was laying flat on the cool, hospital floor along with the rest of you because it hurt- goddamn it fucking hurt and maybe it was selfish of you because he was the one laying on the hospital bed drenched in his own blood and you just had to fix him, right? Just fix him.

"Dr. Holland, you can't work on him- you're too close."

You ignored the comment, reaching for the instrument as the interns and other nurses watched on with open mouths, they looked like fish gasping for breath. Tom was bloody- bruised and battered at most and you had to wonder how a stunt could've gone this horribly wrong. How he had ended up getting hit by one of the cars at the wrong time and been dragged- feeling every second of the pain before finally passing out surrounded by crew and cast that broke their voices calling for help.

"Dr. Holland, you shouldn't be-"

"Shut the hell up or get out of my ER." You snap, pleased when none of the interns or surgeons around you push it any further but still nearing a full breakdown.

This wasn't a good idea- to work on him, that was. It was one thing you told others as a teacher and as the head of the Trauma: Never work on those that you're close with, it'll go wrong- each and every time. But now as you squeezed your eyes shut and got rid of any trace of tears, taking a deep breath and stared at the multiple wounds you could only think about how you were the only one for this job. No one else got to touch no- they'd only make it worse.

"Get them to book an OR," When no one moved, you looked up, hard eyes glaring holes through each and every individual somehow simultaneously. The monitor beeped. "Now!" You barked.

Nurses and doctors scattered around like flies, shoulder to shoulder with you as each worked on fixing the man on the operating table. A gold band sat on his ring finger, blood staining the design and you immediately drew your eyes away from the sight, hands going back to his chest where you were able to feel an open- gaping wound, blood pooling beneath your fingertips.