|A Bullet For My Valentine
Author: changenotcoins PM
Fish is assigned to the emergency phone call of Jessica Brennan after she spots her stalker and he ends up getting more than he bargained for.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Drama - O. Fish & Kyle L. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,321 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 10 - Updated: 11-11-09 - Published: 08-22-09 - id: 5323981
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
How he longed to hear that voice.
Before he had felt like he had taken a soccer ball straight to the gut but now he could feel the relief wash over him. He didn't care at that moment that it was only his name and nothing more; he had spoken. He was alive. It was all he could do just to stop himself from dancing a jig right there into the nurse's station.
"Oliver," Kyle breathed, grasping his hand gently but not as if he ever wanted to let go. "I'm right here."
"What happened?" Fish groaned inwardly, his voice groggy from sleep and, what Kyle was sure was, pain. "I feel like I got shot."
"You got shot," Kyle replied, resisting the urge to laugh. "Twice, if I can remember correctly. You saved Jessica Brennan from a madman but he certainly put up a fight. Two bullets of a fight."
The memory of what must have been the night before came flooding back. There was rain, darkness, a blonde woman and a gray haired man, screams, gunshots and blood. He grimaced when he realized it had been his own blood that had stained the terrace. That man had shot him. Suddenly he was fully unaware of the pain as anger washed over him in floods.
"I got shot!"
"You got shot," Kyle said again, slower this time. "We are already established this."
"Well, now that I know, I find that I'm really angry about it," Oliver stated as he feigned indignation. "Like really. A cop that just wants to do his job has to have some crazy guy shoot him. Where is the justice in the world?"
"You sure that morphine isn't in a higher dosage?"
Fish playfully glared at him and Kyle grinned back on instinct, immensely grateful he had his Oliver back... albeit with a few noticeable marks on his body now, but who was he to complain?
"Can I go home?"
Kyle opened his mouth to respond to Oliver's intriguing question, as it was one that had been weighing on his mind for some time, when the glass door to the room slid open with a whisper and in walked his doctor. "I can answer that for you right now, if you'd like."
"You're healing up far better than we expected, especially now that you're awake and seem to be back to normal - " He stopped when he noticed Fish glance down at several bandages covering his flesh and amended his statement. " - well, for the most part. I think it's safe to say that you're fit to go home. With one exception, of course."
Kyle looked up at the doctor expectantly. "Which is...?"
"I should say two," he corrected himself. "I gather that you're a workaholic and are dedicated to your job but absolutely no work whatsoever until you are ready to run a marathon again. You'll be riding a desk for the time being, so get used to paperwork. I might just have to treat you for carpal tunnel here soon. And you'll need someone to go home with you to take care of you. You will not be able to do it alone. Think you can handle that?"
Fish gave the doctor a half assed salute and dropped his hand back beside Kyle's on the bed. "Sure thing, doc."
The doctor eyed his patient suspiciously but decided to take his word for it and started to leave. "Paperwork is at the front desk for discharge."
"Does Layla mind staying with you to help you recuperate?"
Fish furrowed his brown in confusion. "I thought you would be the caregiver this time around."
Kyle's eyes widened and he blinked multiple times, making sure he had heard him correctly. "Come home with you?"
"Actually, I was thinking with you. Layla and I are kaput and I wouldn't want to have her stressing over me, waiting on me hand and foot out of some pity maneuver. Besides, you're much more sympathetic than they are and I kind of like the idea of having you there to take care of me. Kinky, I know, but hey, what can I say? If the shoe fits, I will certainly go try it on. Anyways, this stupid hospital gown is starting to really itch and if I don't get - "
Kyle placed his index finger across Oliver's warm lips. "Shut up."
"I guess I'm still pretty whacked on Scooby Snacks, if you know what I mean." Oliver mumbled against Kyle's finger. Kyle gave him a warning look and Oliver made a motion of closing his mouth like a zipper.
"I am going to fill out that paperwork and when I get back, we'll go home, okay?" Kyle asked, and Oliver gave him a smile in response. We'll go home. He really liked the sound of that.
"I will as soon as I get fresh bandages," Oliver winced in pain as he clutched at the wound on his bicep. "I think I'm bleeding."
Kyle whipped around and eyeballed the scene from afar, sprinting to the bathroom to gather supplies to redress his wounds. He bolted back to Oliver and kneeled beside him, surveying the damage.
He pulled back the white bandage carefully and slowly, avoiding what he knew were Oliver's eyes on him as he did this. They were so close to each other now that Kyle could feel Oliver's breath on his cheek. He lathered his fingers with ointment, pressing the liquid onto Oliver's wound. Oliver winced again, and pulled back slightly.
"Sorry," Kyle grumbled underneath his breath. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
This admission forced Kyle to look at Oliver; to look straight into those penetrating blue eyes that he wanted to look away from but simply couldn't due to the sheer piercing gaze he had on him. "You didn't hurt me."
Kyle chose not to respond, instead returning to work diligently on replacing the now soaked cloths. He placed the last bandage onto Oliver's arm and stopped briefly as he felt fingertips brush over the skin on his chin, forcing him to look up. Kyle's soft brown eyes met the equally soft blue ones of Oliver's and his breath hitched when he noticed how close they were, how Oliver's fingers were stroking his cheek now, how his eyelids had drooped like they always did before he closed them during a kiss.
And before he could pull away, Oliver had lowered his head, pressing his lips against Kyle's in a soft kiss. At first the kiss was tiny, hesitant, slow but it soon became more eager and heady, giving way to the pent up passion each had. When they finally did break apart for air, Kyle rested his forehead against Oliver's, breathing more heavily then before.
"You know that you were the last thing I thought about after I got shot. The only thing I could think of," Oliver whispered. "Your face was what kept me alive."
"You know what?"
Oliver cocked his head to the side. "What?"
"Let's not talk."
And so they didn't.