Work Text:
"Ah-choo-"
"Ugh."
"Bless you, bambina," Carina called, leaning against the counter, savouring her steaming cup of coffee. She had a surprise day off today, the hospital calling to let her know that a miracle had happened and they were over-staffed. So she'd decided to use her new-found morning to be productive, rather than crawl back into bed with her wife.
Her snuffly, sick wife.
It had started off with a sore throat and watery eyes as they cooked dinner and had progressed slowly into congestion, a blocked nose and sneezes...
So. Many. Sneezes.
Carina was sure her wife had sneezed more times in the last twelve hours than she had in their entire relationship to date. It felt like it was almost constant. And loud too. So loud. There was no dainty sneezing happening, just loud spluttering sneezes that, at times, seemed to almost topple her over.
"ahhh-choo-"
"Ugh."
"Salute, bambina."
Carina set her coffee down and decided that breakfast was on the cards. She wasn't sure how much of an appetite her wife had, but she figured if she made French toast, and Maya didn’t want any, they could always freeze it and use it for another day.
She was just dipping the second slice of brioche in the egg mixture when a figure appeared behind her; slightly chapped lips pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"Bye babe, hope your surprise- ahhh-choo, sorry- surprise day off goes well."
"Di cosa stai parlando?" Carina asked, turning to see Maya filling up her water bottle up at the sink. Her eyes fell not on the pyjamas she had been wearing less than thirty minutes ago, but a jumper and jeans and a work bag slung over her shoulder. "Where are you going?"
[What are you talking about?]
"Where am I- what do you mean 'where am I going'... work, babe."
Carina stared open-mouthed at her. "But- you're- bambina... you're sick."
"It's just a cold, babe. I'm fi-achoo-ne. I'm fine."
"Non é vero," Carina whined. "Your eyes are puffy, your nose is running. You keep sneezing."
[That’s not true]
"None of those things impede my ability to fight fires, Honey. I'm honestly fine. I've got a packet of kleenex and some throat lozenges."
"Bambina-"
"I'm good, baby, it's just a cold."
"Do you have a fever?" Carina eyed her suspiciously, breakfast all but forgotten.
"Nope, I checked, 97.8. I gotta go, or I'll be late, see you later."
"Maya-" Carina began but the front door cut her off as it clicked shut, ending the conversation there. "Madonna," she groaned, "that woman."
"You... look like shit, Bishop."
"You should mind your own business, Gibson," Maya mumbled, sniffing as her nose started to run.
"Your wife let you come into work looking like this?" He persisted, his tone teasing with just an air of concern lingering.
"My wife doesn't 'let me' do anything. I am in charge of my life- achoo- she is in charge of hers."
"Your wife is a multi-award winning doctor who doesn't let you leave the house without lunch... you're telling me she looked at you this morning and said 'yeah she looks completely normal, and not like the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future rolled into one gross sneezing mess'."
"Is there a point to this?" Maya huffed, moving onto the next patch of dirt on the truck.
"You look like you feel like shit, I could find a sub in our system and you could be gone in the next twenty minutes. Back to your wife... who is either sick herself, or hasn't seen you."
"I'm fine, Jack, it's just a- AHHH-CHOOOO." Maya stumbled forward with the force of the sneeze, almost falling back as her forehead connected with the wingmirror of the ladder truck.
"Shit."
She clamped a hand to her forehead as pain rippled through it, the room spinning for a moment.
"Ahhhh-choo."
The second sneeze caught her off guard too.
Again she stumbled, hand still pressed to her forehead, eyes still screwed up.
Her ankle rolled, clean over.
Pain seared immediately, burning hot as it pulsed through her ankle.
"Shit."
Her butt connected with the floor.
"Owwww."
There was silence.
Then Jack's loud booming laugh filled the barn. "What the fuck was that, dude- oh my god you're bleeding," his teasing tone fell away, as he rushed over to her.
"What?" Maya mumbled.
"Blood, you're bleeding," he repeated, pulling her hand away only to immediately put it back where it was. "That's- okay, I'm getting Warren."
Maya frowned at him, what did he mean bl-
"Oh-"
She pulled her hand away from her forehead and her eyes fell on red.
"Oh-"
The red on her palm didn’t look real, not attached to her, not something that was happening now. It felt distant, like she was watching it through fogged glass. Warmth trickled down her forehead, slipping past her eyebrow, sticky and slow.
"I need a bandaid," she mumbled and made to stand. Immediately pain shot through her ankle. She hissed, reaching out to touch it only for more sharp stabbing angry pain to pulse. She took a deep breath and bolstered, pushing herself to her feet with a sharp inhale.
"That's- ow."
She wobbled forward anyway, stubborn reflex overriding sense. The barn tilted with her, the floor sliding just a little too fast.
A hand caught her elbow mid-lurch, firm and immediate. “Absolutely not.”
Maya blinked, trying to focus on the face in front of her. “Vic?” she asked, uncertain, like she’d guessed.
“Hi,” Vic said, eyes already flicking from the blood on Maya’s forehead to the way she was barely putting weight on her foot. “What the hell happened?”
Jack huffed a laugh from somewhere nearby. “She sneezed into a mirror.”
Vic’s eyebrows shot up. “You sneezed yourself into a workplace injury?”
"I need a bandaid, and to wash my hands. I'm absolutely fine." Maya mumbled, feeling more blood trickle down her forehead.
"I think you need more than that," Vic said, as Jack appeared next to them and looped his hand through Maya’s other arm.
"Ready to sit down, Bishop?"
"I'm good. I just need to walk it off."
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
Maya’s body didn’t give the fight she was hoping it would, and she found herself easily overpowered by her friends. They lowered her to the floor and leaned her against the truck. Jack put both of his hands on her shoulders, "don't move, Warren's coming."
"Did you say she sneezed herself into a mirror?" Vic asked, grabbing the rag Maya had been using to polish the truck. She folded it and pressed it to her forehead.
"Yup."
Maya’s body chose that moment to deliver another monumental sneeze. Jack and Vic barely had time to jump back before she was lurched forward with yet another aggressive "ahhhhhhh-choo!"
The room tilted.
The floor felt too close to her face.
Her head throbbed, and not from the cut.
"I get it now," Vic said with a grimace, pressing the cloth back on Maya’s forehead, as the blonde leaned back, her eyes slightly unfocused.
Warren jogged in a moment later, already pulling on gloves. “Okay,” he said, calm but clipped, eyes immediately on the blood soaked rag. “What do we have?”
“I’m fine,” Maya said before anyone else could answer. Her voice was thick and congested. “I just need a bandaid and maybe-” she sniffed hard, nose bright red, “-some ibuprofen.”
"She hit her head pretty hard, and rolled her ankle, I think,” Jack said, easily talking over her, “I can't tell if she's being her usual stubborn self, or if she also has a concussion."
Warren nodded and crouched in front of her, taking the rag from Vic. "Start to finish, tell me what happened?"
"I sneezed. It propelled me forward. My head hit something, the mirror, I think. I sneezed again and went over on my ankle. But I'm fine, I need a bandaid for my head and ibuprofen for my ankle. And I'm not concussed, I just have a cold."
Ben chuckled. "I appreciate your assessment, can I check you out anyway?"
"If it will get people off my back... sure."
"Alright then," Ben chuckled, lifting the rag away. "Wow Bishop, that's quite something. You got a headache?" He asked, as he reached for a piece of gauze to replace the rag.
"Yeah, but I've had a headache since 8pm last night, so I don't think it was caused by me bumping my head," she said lazily.
"So your headache didn't change when you hit your head?" He asked, as he taped the piece of gauze to her forehead, not trusting her to keep it there.
"It did, for a few seconds but I'd say it was back to how it was. Apart from that it’s throbbing around where I bumped it."
Ben nodded, and began pressing his fingers around the cut to make sure Maya hadn't somehow dislodged something. "You're going to need some-" he was interrupted by her sneezing, thankfully into her elbow, but it was still violent enough that he had to move so she didn't hit her head on his shoulder.
"Sorry," she sniffed, fishing in her pocket for a kleenex groaning when she came up empty handed. She tried to get up again, needing more tissues, when three sets of hands stopped her.
"Vic, can get you the box of tissues from reception. Jack, can you get her an ice pack from the freezer."
Maya sniffed aggressively, closing her eyes again, as the pressure in her face grew.
"You okay, Bishop?" Ben asked, reaching into the medical bag for the thermometer.
"Mmm-hmm. Annoyed, mostly."
"Pretty sure you have a fever, can I check?"
She turned her head in response, revealing her ear, grateful when she saw Vic coming back.
"Here you go," Vic said, before gasping, "holy fever. Bishop, what the heck?"
"I have one?" Maya asked, as she blew her nose which offered no relief and just increased her headache.
"I'm surprised you're not horizontal and shivering," Ben said, staring at the thermometer which was bright red and flashing 102.6 at him.
"I swear I didn't have one before work."
"Let's deal with the fever later, and keep checking your head out," he said gently.
Ben pulled a pen torch from his pocket and straightened her head, shining it in her eyes as he assessed her pupils. "Pupils are equal and reactive, size four. Okay, Bishop, can you follow my finger?"
Maya’s eyes tracked it without trouble, even if she had to blink a few times to keep them from watering. “See? Fine,” she murmured, smug despite herself.
“Any nausea?” he asked.
“No.”
"Are you sure?"
"I'm nauseous... but it's from the congestion and sore throat, I had it since before I came to work."
"Hmmm," Ben said, watching her for a moment. “Light sensitivity?”
She squinted up at the barn lights. “Those are always annoying.”
He glanced up at them too then back at her, "any dizziness or double vision?"
"Nope."
Ben exhaled softly, then nodded. “Alright. I don’t see signs of a concussion.”
Maya relaxed instantly. “Thank you.”
“But,” Ben continued, glancing at the gauze which was already beginning to darken with blood. "You definitely have a fever and a cut on your forehead."
She opened her mouth to argue and was cut off by another sneeze, sharp and breath-stealing. “Ahhh-chooo!”
“Bless you,” Vic said automatically, pressing a fresh tissue into her palm.
Maya blew her nose, coughing weakly.
The door to the bay swung open as Jack came back in, phone in hand. "-get your sick wife. Okay. How long-"
Maya sneezed again, loud and wet, muffling the rest.
Jack lowered the phone, already moving toward her. "I got you two ice packs, because... ankle."
Maya held her hand out for one, scowling when she realised Jack had retrieved the icepack designed for kids. "Duck or ladybug?" He asked, with a smirk.
"Duck," she snatched it off him, pressing it to her forehead.
"Great choice, that's what you should have done when you sneezed."
Maya might be sick, but she wasn't sick enough to not flip him the bird, so that's exactly what she did, holding it out for longer than necessary so he got the message.
Ben diverted her attention by lifting her foot into his lap. She hissed in pain, feeling herself go lightheaded for a moment.
"That bad?" He asked, fingers moving to untie the laces.
"No, it's fine, I just didn’t know you were looking at my ankle too."
"I thought I may as well since I'm here," he shrugged.
He loosened the laces slowly, one careful tug at a time. “Tell me if it gets worse,” Ben said, already bracing her heel with one hand. “I don’t want-”
“I’ve got it,” Maya said, determined.
Before he could stop her, she reached down and yanked the boot free.
Pain detonated up her leg, white-hot and blinding. Her vision burst into stars, the edges going dark as a sharp wave of nausea rolled through her.
“-shit,” she gasped, the ice pack slipping from her forehead and landing uselessly in her lap.
"Yeah," Ben said, cupping her ankle with his hand, "that's not what I meant at all."
Maya swallowed hard, breathing through her nose, then immediately regretted that too, tumbling into a spluttering cough. “I’m fine,” she said weakly, eyes still unfocused. “Just… give me a second.”
Vic and Jack both froze, watching her a little too closely. The latter reached down and retrieved the duck ice pack, pressing it to her forehead again.
“Did you get dizzy?” Ben asked.
“No,” Maya lied automatically, blinking until the spots faded. “Just hurt.”
"And numbness?" He asked, gently taking her sock down.
"No."
"Wiggle your toes," he instructed.
Maya nodded and wiggled her toes.
"Any pain when I touch?" He asked gently palpating her foot, moving closer to her ankle.
"No- ah- okay- yep- That’s- yeah. That’s- it hurts.”
“Mmm,” Ben hummed, deciding not to push his examination further than he needed to. “Swelling’s already coming up.”
Ben straightened. “You didn’t just roll it. That’s a solid sprain.”
“Ibuprofen,” Maya insisted. “Ice. I’ll tape it.”
“You’re not walking on it today,” he said simply.
“I can still walk,” Maya said, stubborn as ever.
“You can,” he agreed calmly. “You just shouldn’t.”
Jack crouched down to get a better look. “You want a second ice pack?”
Ben nodded, holding his hand out for the ladybug, gently pressing it to Maya’s ballooned ankle. “You didn’t fracture anything obvious,” he said. “But I want imaging to be sure. And no weight-bearing.”
Maya frowned. “I don’t need an x-ray.”
Ben met her eyes. “Maya.”
"I'll get one if it hurts in a few days."
Another sneeze tore through her, and this time she didn’t even bother apologising.
"Okay, so do we think we can get an exam table set up so I can stitch her forehead. Or- maybe we get her into the aid car."
"I don't need stitches," she said, lifting her hand to her forehead. The gauze was now soaked in blood. "I just need to put some pressure on it and then stick on a bandaid."
"You haven't seen it, but trust me when I say, you need stitches," Vic said kindly.
"I don't it's barely-"
She cut herself off with a sneeze that tumbled into a coughing fit, the muscles pulling in her stomach so that she found herself retching, her eyes watering.
"Woah, woah, okay. Let me listen to that chest," Ben said, as Vic pulled her a sick bag from the med bag.
"I'm okay," she said weakly.
“You’re not,” Ben said gently, already reaching for the stethoscope. “Deep breath for me.”
Maya tried. It turned into another cough that rattled unpleasantly in her chest.
“Okay,” Ben murmured, more to himself now. He clipped the pulse oximeter onto her finger, eyes narrowing slightly as the numbers settled. “Oxygen’s okay. Heartrate’s high, but that tracks with the fever and pain.”
The door from reception opened again and Maya braced herself for whatever colleague was going to come and fuss over her now.
"Hey, is Maya-"
The firefighter's head lifted on instinct at the sound of her name.
Carina froze just past the truck.
Blood. The gauze soaked through. Ice pressed clumsily to Maya’s ankle, already swollen and angry. Maya pale and glassy-eyed, breathing through her mouth like everything hurt.
“What-” Carina started, then stopped, swallowing hard. Her eyes snapped to Jack. “You said I needed to get her because of the cold-"
"Well yeah... but also-" he gestured at Maya.
"I'm not sure why you're here, babe," Maya sniffed.
"You sound ten times worse than earlier," Carina said, crouching next to her. She rested her hand carefully on Maya’s forehead below the cut. "You're very warm, bambina."
"She's got a 102.6 fever," Vic informed her.
“Amore,” she said softly. “What happened?”
“I sneezed,” Maya said, like that explained everything. “A lot.”
Carina closed her eyes for half a beat.
"I told you to stay home," Carina sighed, then looked over at Ben, "what's your assessment?"
Ben straightened. “She’s febrile, a few minor crackles across both lungs, no concussion signs, ankle sprain, and a forehead laceration that-"
“Needs stitches,” Carina finished, already looking at it. Her voice was calm, but it left no room for debate.
“I don’t need-” Maya started.
“Yes,” Carina said gently, finally placing a hand on Maya’s cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye. “You do.”
Maya sagged into the touch despite herself.
Ben glanced between them. “She’s resisting imaging for the ankle.”
"It's- babe, it's fine. I just need ibuprofen, ice and to strap it."
"Hmm," Carina said, carefully taking her foot in her lap. Her touch was lighter than Ben's, eyes trained on her wife. "Wiggle your toes."
Maya resisted rolling her eyes and did as she was asked, adding, "it's not numb anywhere and I didn't hear a snap or crack."
Carina exhaled slowly. “Okay.” She met Maya’s eyes. “If it is still painful or unstable in forty-eight hours, you get the x-ray.”
Maya nodded immediately. “Deal.”
“But,” Carina continued, eyes flicking pointedly to the blood still seeping through the gauze, “you are getting stitches now.”
Maya opened her mouth.
Carina raised an eyebrow.
"You have to get stitches. So your choices are Grey-Sloan where you will wait for hours, and end up getting your foot x-rayed and probably a boot... or Ben stitches you up here. Unless... I'd be happy to let Jack try, he's had one hour of training with me on an orange."
Maya scowled.
"What are we thinking, bambina?" Carina asked, eyebrows raised.
"Can you do it?"
"Bambina."
"It's just- Ben,” she turned to address her colleague, “when was the last time you did stitches?"
"About a month ago."
"And my love..."
"I stitched a perineum yesterday," Carina partially mumbled.
"Please, babe."
Carina glanced at Ben, who shrugged, "off the books," he added.
"Certo. Allora, stitches on my day off," Carina chuckled, kissing her cheek.
"Thank you," Maya pouted.
"Do you want an exam table setting up or will the aid car be okay?" Ben asked Carina, who was passing Maya a tissue from her pocket so the blonde could blow her nose which had just started dripping.
"Aid car will be fine if one of you can hold a light for me," Carina said, looping her hands under Maya’s arms, so she could pull her up.
After that, things moved quickly.
Maya barely protested when Carina eased her down onto the bed. She was too busy sniffling, wiping at her nose, and blinking against the persistent throb in her head.
“Okay,” Carina murmured, tying her hair back with a practiced flick of her wrist.
She started by cleaning the area, taking extra time to wipe the dried blood off the rest of her face too. Then came the drape and the lidocaine with a "small pinch."
Maya braced herself, and still hissed.
“I know,” Carina soothed immediately, thumb warm against her temple. “I know.”
The cut was deeper than Maya had thought. She kept her eyes closed, breathing through her mouth as each stitch tugged, the world narrowing down to the rhythm of Carina’s voice and the steady pressure of her hands. Somewhere between the third and fourth stitch, the fight drained out of her completely.
When it was done, Carina smoothed a strip of steri-tape into place and pressed a clean dressing over it, her touch lingering just long enough to reassure.
"All done," she said softly, gathering up the drape, and leaning down to press a kiss to Maya’s temple when she was done. "Seven stitches."
"Seven?!"
"Sì," Carina said, brushing a stray tear from her wife's cheek without mention.
That was the moment Maya sneezed again, so loud it reverberated off the metal walls of the aidcar.
"Salute," Carina said softly, stroking her hair, as Ben held up a bandage and pointed to her foot.
Ben wrapped Maya’s ankle, snug and deliberate, and issued instructions that Maya nodded along to with half-lidded eyes. Ice, elevation, no weight-bearing. Fever reducers. Fluids. Rest.
By the time they were done, Maya was wrapped up in a blanket like a patient instead of a firefighter.
Carina helped her down from the aid car, slipping an arm around her waist as Maya tested her foot and immediately thought better of it.
“Hop,” Carina instructed.
Maya obeyed without argument, leaning into her as they crossed the barn together.
Jack held the door open. “Feel better, Bishop.”
“Never sneezing again,” Maya muttered.
Carina couldn't help but laugh, relieved she had parked her car nearby.
She helped her climb in and pressed another kiss to her cheek, "I told you to stay home."
"It was just a cold."
"And now it's just a cold, and seven stitches and a swollen, bruised, sprained ankle."
Maya sighed, pressing her face into her hands.
"Can we go home?"
"Always."