Kleidung: Thrombosestrümpfe (fürs Team)

[der_jemand]

Team: Nutellasalat
Challenge: Kleidung – Thrombosestrümpfe (fürs Team)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charaktere: Charlie Weasley/Oliver Wood
Wörter: ca. 500
Warnung: Nicht-magisches AU, ungebetates Englisch
Widmung: nyx_chan
A/N: Ich habe da dieses epische Romcom-AU, komplett mit cheesy Wortspiel im Titel. ...Ich hab's nur nie geschrieben. Und das hier ist... ein AU zum AU?



Charlie couldn't even remember how he'd gotten to the hospital. He could only remember pacing up and down a depressing hallway, tearing at his own hair and feeling responsible. Somehow. For something.

They had called him. They had told him he was Mr. Wood's emergency contact and not to worry, but Mr. Wood was going to be in surgery and maybe he should come over?

Charlie couldn't even pretend to understand what was going on, because emergency contact, what? But he was there. And he waited. And maybe screamed at a nurse.

She told him that Oliver had been in a car accident, his arm had been trapped in the wreckage, but everything would be alright. Charlie knew she was lying and she knew he knew. Then he screamed at her and she just placed a hand on his shoulder as if she dealt with crazy lunatics like him everyday. She probably did. Charlie didn't care.

"Mr. Weasley?" A young man, a kid, essentially, in scrubs had appeared in the hallway.

"Oliver! Is he..."

"He is still asleep and will be for another hour. But we reconstructed his arm", the kid said and smiled.

Charlie felt like choking. "Reconstructed?"

"The humerus was crushed in a small area. But it should heal just fine. Your boyfriend will be okay in no time, I promise."

"He's..." With a shrug, Charlie decided not to explain that he was merely a worried neighbor (and emergency contact, again what?). "He'll be okay?" He felt stupid repeating every word the doctor said, but he needed to be sure. "He'll be able to play again?" Apparently, he didn't want to live in a world where Oliver Wood couldn't play football.

"I assume so. It's just his arm and it will heal."

It took a lot of effort not to hug the kid. "Can I... can I see him?"

"Mr. Wood is still asleep."

"Oh, he's a lot easier to bear like that."

The doctor smiled. "A nurse will take you to him when he wakes from anaesthesia."



"Charlie?" Oliver looked like crap. Like confusingly handsome crap.

"Hey...", Charlie said because he didn't know what to say. And Oliver smiled. "They... told me you were in an accident?"

"That's what they tell me. I'm a little fuzzy about the details... But apparently I'm fine?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "A sixteen-year-old kid reconstructed your crushed upper arm."

"My arm was crushed? – These pain meds are amazing. And, here, take a look at my awesome new stockings." Clumsily, Oliver lifted the covers and with a cheeky grin he pointed his DVT stocking-clad leg at Charlie.

"Sexy." He almost choked at the word but Oliver smiled contently, so maybe Charlie didn't care. Maybe.

"So good they called you."

Charlie shrugged. "Why did they call me?"

"Because you're my emergency contact." The 'duh' was heavily implied.

"But... why?"

Oliver seemed to contemplate that for a moment. Then he smiled. "Because you're the only person I know who'd think DVT stockings are sexy."

"I think I'm going to leave now."

"Please don't."

So Charlie didn't.

Comments

[cricri-72.livejournal.com]

Ah, niedlich! Ein Klassiker toll umgesetzt; ich mag den überraschenden Notfallkontakt :)

that he was merely a worried neighbor (and emergency contact, again what?)
Ganz bestimmt ;)

Ich liebe die beiden Schlußssätze. So einfach, eigentlich, aber funktioniert hervorragend.

[der_jemand]

Danke! *_* Es ist irgendwie ein tolles Trope. So viel Drama und Verwirrung! :D

Und freut mich, dass sie so gut funktionieren. Danke!