18 18- Hemophobia

!!!!!CRASH!!!!!

The sound of many breakable things meeting an unforgiving floor boomed out of the kitchen. The whole restaurant went silent enough to hear the colorful string of reprimands that followed. Laced in there was something about the uselessness of omegas. Scott buried his face in his hands. He knew something like this would happen. He knew it. He just hoped Ryan wasn't hurt. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to run in there and see for himself.

Slowly, the ambient conversation levels went back to normal, and he could hear the sound of whatever had broken being cleaned up. He packed away his things. Surely, Ryan would be sent home now, right? The cleaning sounds continued, the sweeping of either glass or ceramic shards against tile floors prolonged longer than he thought it would. How much did Ryan break?

Finally, after what seemed like much too long, Ryan left the kitchen. Or rather, he was forced out by someone who appeared to be a manager. Scott didn't like the way the woman was gripping Ryan's arm as they beelined straight over.

"This guy's yours, right?" She asked irritably, releasing him roughly in a huff. "He's done for the night. I want him out of my kitchen."

Ryan waved dazedly at Scott, revealing no less than three bandages on his fingers. "Hah... Look, Cuddle Bug...!" He chuckled, "I got cut...!"

Scott seized both Ryan's hands, looking them over. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it! He knew something like this would happen! Ryan's other hand had two bandages on the fingers, one of which was starting to leak. He fixed the manager with an icy glare.

"Bring me your first-aid kit." He ordered.

She did flinch a little, but refused to back down. "We already bandaged him up. It was his own incompetence that–"

"The only incompetence here is yours." Scott interrupted, keeping his tone low and even. All of a sudden, he was very much the big, scary alpha. He pulled Ryan close protectively, keeping pressure on the still–bleeding wound. "This person has been working for nearly twenty hours non-stop. Any COMPETENT manager would have noticed he was unfit for work and sent him home early."

The woman wilted back visibly, but Scott wasn't done. Ryan was hurt, and he was fully prepared to dress this person down. In his arms, Ryan started trembling and trying to pull away. Scott looked at him, confused, and realized Ryan was fixated on the finger Scott was keeping pressure on. The band-aid had bled through, and a tiny droplet of blood was snaking its way down his hand. Ryan let out a nervous laugh, which trailed off as his legs buckled.

"Oh no you don't! Don't you faint on me!"

Scott quickly caught Ryan's weight and controlled his fall so he ended up sitting in a chair. He then shoved Ryan's head between his knees, all while trying to keep pressure on Ryan's cut. It made for a good spectacle, earning several gasps from the other patrons. He didn't know Ryan's hemophobia was this bad. Being sleep deprived probably wasn't helping either. He crouched down so he was at Ryan's level, and patted his cheek gently trying to keep him from blacking out completely.

"Ryan, you've got to stay awake a little longer, okay? Try tensing your muscles. You're okay, your blood pressure just dropped really quickly."

Ryan made a little noise of complaint, but his eyelids peeked open. He absolutely did not want to stay awake. Scott was telling him he had to though, so he guessed he really couldn't give in, could he? Couldn't Scott at least quit smacking his face? It was annoying… He tried to sit up, but his head was forced back down.

"Stay like this a minute." Scott commanded, the manager momentarily forgotten.

The manager sighed. "I'll get the first-aid kit."

Scott pinned her with a look that brokered no argument. "Have someone take it to the restroom." To Ryan he asked gently, "Are you feeling okay? Are you dizzy or nauseous at all?"

"I think I'm okay…" Ryan mumbled.

"We need to get to the bathroom so I can fix your cut properly." Scott let Ryan sit up slowly. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"I think I can walk…"

Scott helped Ryan stand, supporting most of his weight and shielding his eyes from the slightly dripping bandage. To the manager, he stared daggers. "I trust my things will still be here when we return."

With that, Scott herded Ryan, eyes covered, to the bathrooms. There, he removed the bandages from that particular hand and gave the injuries a thorough washing. The problem cut wasn't particularly deep, but it nicked a vein. Ryan was very pointedly NOT looking. At some point a male employee brought them the first aid kit, and once Scott was satisfied the bleeding was slowed enough, he hooked Ryan up with a proper pressure bandage, sealed with a kiss for good measure.

All the while, Scott got the story of what happened, more or less. Ryan had finished washing a bunch of glassware and was moving them in a tray so they could be put away for the night. A spoon or a fork or something had ended up on the floor at some point and he'd slipped on it. His story ended in a fit of giggles as he described watching the glasses fall in slow motion to explode on the floor. He'd fallen on his knees, which hurt, but he'd gotten the cuts when he tried to clean the shards up.

For good measure, despite weak protests, Scott rolled up Ryan's pants to check his knees too. They weren't cut, but there were some bruises forming.

"I'm okay now, really!" Ryan laughed. "You even kissed my boo-boo all better!"

Ryan's entire weight was supported by the bathroom wall. Scott could tell this whole incident had given Ryan a heavy dose of adrenaline, but as soon as that was gone, Ryan was going to crash hard. Scott sighed heavily and pulled Ryan in for a close hug. He craved that contact to come down from his own adrenaline rush. In his arms, Ryan was trying his best to stop his tired giggling.

"Come on, let's get you home before you pass out, shall we?" he whispered in Ryan's hair.

Scott packed up the first-aid kit and guided Ryan out of the bathroom. He left the kit at the hostess stand and collected his things from where he was sitting. He pulled a small folding umbrella from his bag and escorted his boyfriend out of the restaurant.

Outside, the rain had let up, but not by much. Scott held the umbrella more over Ryan than himself as they walked through the parking lot. Ryan seemed to be in a daze. Luckily, his place was just around the corner by car. Scott opened the passenger door and helped Ryan inside. Ryan made some comments about Scott getting wet from the rain, to which Scott replied with a wink, "Don't worry about it. I'm not made of sugar, like some people."

This set Ryan into another fit of tired giggling as Scott got in on the other side and drove off. He had wanted so badly to talk to Ryan tonight. Unfortunately, it was blindingly obvious that wasn't going to happen. Still, at the moment, Ryan wasn't scared of him, or at least, didn't remember he was scared. Their fingers were laced as usual, and for a moment, for the most part, everything was right in the world.

They got to Ryan's apartment in no time. The entrance had a small overhang that didn't quite go all the way out to the street, and Scott drove up on the curb to get that much closer to it. The rain had mostly stopped, but it was still drizzling.

"Thanks for the ride, Ryan yawned, reaching to open the door.

"Wait, before you go," Scott reached for something in the back seat, bringing a bag up from the floor. "You left this last time. It's the leftovers from Sunday. I've got a cold pack in there, but you need to put it in the fridge, okay?"

"Oh, thanks!" Ryan took the bag, peering inside. "What's this other stuff in here?"

"Some chocolate as an apology. And one of my shirts, if you want it for your heat. I... thought you might like to have something that smells like me..."

Ryan cracked up. "It'll get dirty!"

"I have a washer. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can take it back?"

"Nopeitsminenow!" Ryan clutched the bag possessively, sticking out his tongue, before dissolving into laughter."

So, are we good now?"

Ryan nodded.

"Can I have a goodnight kiss?"

Ryan nodded again. They both leaned in over the center console. Ryan practically crashed into Scott, delivering a sloppy, wet, fish–liped kiss just off center of Scott's mouth.

"Night night, Cuddle Bug!"

While Scott was glitched out, Ryan got out of the car and started weaving his way to the building.

"You can take that one bandage off in the morning!" Scott called, "And don't forget to put the food in the fridge!"

Ryan waved in assent without looking back. He managed to run in to the front door, bouncing off it in surprise before remembering how to open it. Scott watched him disappear into the building before leaning over to shut his passenger side car door.

It was mission success. It didn't go as planned, but he'd gotten his boyfriend home. In a few days, Ryan would go into heat, and Scott wouldn't be able to contact him for a while. He pulled off the curb and started heading home himself. Their next date night they would have a proper conversation. Face to face. Things would be okay. They'll set up boundaries and talk desires. He was going to make this work, damnit. This one was going to work.

--------------------

The next day, at nearly a quarter past 11, Scott got a new message on his phone that had him laughing almost as much as Ryan did the night before. It had a picture attached as proof.

RYAN: [I put the whole bag in the fridge when I got home. The ice pack froze to your shirt :-/ ]