Aisling Walsh.

Working on St. Stephen's is more stressful than I would've thought. I predicted Christmas would be the busiest, but as it turns out, majority of people get injured on Christmas and then ignore it so they don't ruin their Christmas. So today, A&E is packed tight, meaning I'm stuck on check-up duty. That means everyone who isn't classified as high risk, gets a small check-up before their appointment with the doctors. They'd normally get it from the doctor tending to them, but the qualified doctors are too busy taking care of the real issues. So all the students and newbies are doing check-ups.

I'm technically not a student nurse though, I'm more of a paid intern getting work experience and training. The pay isn't anything crazy, pretty low considering I'm getting half what the qualified doctors get for doing the same thing, but I'm in it for the experience, the moneys just an added bonus. I work normal student hours, squeezing in whatever shifts I can before and after school.

"Aisling Walsh, you're on room 14. We've got a young adult male, injury following a surgery. You're performing a standard physical examination. He's been alerted that you're an intern and he consents to you performing the checkup." My colleague Dr Green orders.

"Got it, doc." I smile, saluting him as I jog towards the room in question, squeezing through the cramped crowds of people feeling sorry for themselves as they clutch their slightly grazed elbows. Dramatic fuckers. "Good lass." Dr Green calls after me with a proud nod.

I walk the windy corridors until I find room 14. Knocking gently I fix a smile onto my face.

"Come in." A woman's voice replies politely with a thick Dublin accent. I gently open the door and push it shut behind me.

A painfully handsome figure waits behind the door, his height and sheer muscle alone looming over me like some kind of beast. His cheeks flush burgundy when he meets my eyes, instantly looking embarrassed that I'm his age.

"My name is Aisling Walsh, and I'm an intern nurse here to perform your initial check-up if that's alright?" I say the rehearsed lines with a smile, looking between the two equally as gorgeous parents and the son. Some insane genes.

His messy brown hair is styled perfectly, the sides shaved and the top a little longer and messier. Despite it being clearly in pain, he's still absolutely stunningly gorgeous. Jesus, I'd kill to see him on a good day.

His bone structure is one that every boy dreams of having and every girl dreams of kissing. High cheekbones that could cut glass lift, revealing his dimples as he offers me an awkward smile.

"Johnny Kavanagh." He nods in return, the smile on his face clearly forced and an act of courtesy, looking almost as rehearsed as mine. His steel blue eyes don't seem to take any shame trailing me up and down in a quick flick. Once he's taken in my appearance enough he reaches a hand down to his thigh, seeming to rub it in instinct. He winces when he applies too much pressure. I identify instantly from observation alone that's where his injury is.

"I'm going to wash my hands and place some gloves on. You can take a seat on the edge of the table and if you consent to your parents being here they can take a seat at the side." I smile as much as I can.

They do what I say without question, and I begin scrubbing my hands clean. "You look a little young to be a nurse, pet. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?" The Dublin Mother asks me with slight concern, clearly worried about her son's wellbeing.

"I'm 17 right now, I'm actually an student intern Nurse." I explain calmly, running soap through my fingers. "Mam, they asked first if it was okay for a student to do the checkup." The boy perched on the table clarifies, clearly trying to settle her apprehension.

"So you're a student at only 17? What university are you at?" She asks curiously, not as judgy or suspicious as the other overbearing Mum's i've had today, but sounding genuinely curious. She's wondering what medical school around here would take on a minor. 

"Well I'm still in secondary school at the moment. I don't have the power to do all the things a med student could do, like giving stitches or x-rays. But I can do checkups, observe almost all procedures performed by qualified doctors and a few other things. I'm taking part-time courses to get a smaller qualification I'll need in order to get into medical school. It's like a stepping stone." I explain, working to soothe both the boy on the table, and his parents.

"That's impressive for someone still in secondary school. I didn't know they allowed that much responsibility at your age." The Dad speaks up, sounding genuinely interested.

"Yeah, I suppose it's a win-win. They get a helper around here who's the smartest in her year at school. And I get money, knowledge, and work experience that I'll need to get a scholarship." I giggle, gloating a little too much, but these guys seem to be actually listening instead of just nodding like my parents do, so I'm using that to my advantage.

"Smartest in your year? What school do you go to, pet?" The Mother chirps curiously, picking some fluff off her son's gym shorts, which reveal his bulging muscles.

"Ballylaggin?" I perk up, acting as if they probably won't know it when its infamously known by everyone in Cork as an utter shithole.

"Not exactly hard." Johnny jokes with a smirk. Both his parents gentle smiles drop to horror and they glare at their son. He seems to process what he said and starts scrambling to fix it. "Shite.. no I meant-" 

I let out a laugh, finally finishing up with putting my gloves on and approaching him. "You're alright lad. The bar's not very high. Still smarter than you though, I bet." I wink playfully, his Mother smiles, suppressing a laugh.

"I'm sure I'd surprise you." He hums with a grin, the side of his lip tipping up in mocking.

"Maybe you would." I shrug professionally, wrapping my stethoscope around my neck.

"I'll measure your height first and then take your weight." I tell him, gesturing to the measuring wall. Oh Jaysus. He's a giant. How'll this work.

I'm not particularly short, but this boy could make the tallest man alive look like Danny Devito. I have to reach on my tiptoes to read the measurement. 6'5 ft. Fucking hell. 

I'm 5'2 and I genuinely feel in danger of being stepped on around this man.

He steps atop the scales and I note it down. Sitting back on the end of the exam table uncomfortably, his eyes fall on the floor.

"I'm sorry love, but can we ask why he's getting all this instead of the help he needs?" The Mother vocalises with concern.

"Well, to be honest, the wait times are disgracefully high tonight. A lot of drunk St Steven's Day partiers and people that put of getting their injuries from yesterday checked until today. The check-up is mandatory, so instead of the busy doctors having to do them and take even longer, it'll just be the students doing it. We've ultimately cut the wait time by having us do this." I explain plainly, prepping my torch.

"Look right at my eyes." I whisper, coming in chillingly close to this boy and shining the bright light into his eyes.

His eyelids flutter just a little but he meets my eyes, my whole body tingles when his deep blue eyes settle on mine, staring vastly through me. He gives me the chance to inspect his, checking off all the boxes and turning my flashlight off again.

"So if this is your career path, what schools have you got in mind?" The Father asks curiously.

"Oxford, Cambridge, University of Dublin, just the usuals.. Some of my teachers want me to apply for some in the states, but I'm not even attempting that." I laugh gently, placing the otoscope in Johnny's ear.

"Good schools. It might be worth a try in the states, won't hurt." The Dad suggests, sounding more hopeful and genuine than my own parents ever have.

Johnny steadily kicks his legs off the table sheepishly, his hand kneading the flesh on his thigh again with pain.

"Did they tell you why I'm here?" He asks me, quiet so his parents don't listen as they bicker in hushed whispers about the St Stephen's day wait times.

"Nope. None of my business." I mumble, placing the apparatus down and getting my little flashlight tool again.

"Open up." I say, gesturing to his mouth, pointing up the tool.

He parts his smooth pink lips just a little. "Little wider than that, lad." I smirk briefly. He drop his jaw down and gives me a better view.

"Can I touch you?" I ask professionally. Of course being the teenage boy he is, his eyes widen and he turns red.

"Your chin, Mr Kavanagh." I remain calm whilst trying not to let the smirk on my face grow to a laugh.

He just nods, I take his chin in my hold and move it around so I can see his throat at all the angles I need.

I try not to think about how strong his jaws alone are, his small stubble clearly building up over the holidays just enough to be noticeable only when touching it.

This time I struggle to keep my professionalism. "I uhh.. well I need to use a stethoscope. Do you mind?" I gesture to his shirt.

He nods awkwardly and so I slink my hand up his shirt, placing the stethoscope on his warm chest. He flinches away. "Sorry.. it's a little cold." I say softly.

His doctor walks inside and begins talking to his parents as I finish up.

"This is a little awkward, sorry." I lighten the mood a little, my arm is elbow deep in his shirt with the stethoscope on his heart. It's pounding really fast. 

I blink, adjusting its placement. His heart continues hammering in my ears at an unhealthy speed. 

"Dr Kimberly?" I call over, the doctor with bouncy red curls hums in response for me to go on as she continues that initial chat that every doctor does with their patients parents.

"His hearts around 100bpm, which is a little strange because he's really fit." I call over. Johnny lets out a little groan from the table that only I hear. I almost think he sounds cocky and then I realise it's more of a pained groan.

I trail the stethoscope slowly down his warm abs, hearing a little shaky breath as I do. What a pervert.

I listen in on his breathing now as the doctor finishes up her conversation. 

"You almost done?" Johnny strangles out in response, staring at the ceiling and concentrating on something.

"Just keep breathing normally." I urge gently when I hear no breathing.

He doesn't let out a single breath. "Johnny?" I warn, separating my face from down at his covered stomach.

The man before me looks constipated. He genuinely looks like he's on the verge of shitting himself. "Theres a bathroom down the hall-" I start before his Mother glances over.

"Jaysus Johnny!" She booms, racing over to his side.

"What's the problem- Oh my God!!" I scream, making direct eye contact with his literal boner bulging through his shorts.

"Fuck Mam, you need to go! You can't see me like this." He grunts out with mortification, looking in genuine pain.

"I birthed you, be more worried about the poor lass just trying to do her job." Edel points to me.

"Shite, sorry Dr Walsh!" He growls out, clutching his thigh.

"It's all good.. It happens." I try to offer, cringing with second hand embarrassment. Doctor Kimberly interjects, stepping towards Johnny.

"Take off your shorts son." She instructs. "That's against policy!" I instantly gape at her.

"No, pet, Johnny's injured his groin. He got surgery but he's ripped his stitches." The Mother informs me, helping her son off the table.

I make the assumption that he did not in fact get hard because I touched his chest, but because his dicks effectively broken. It probably gets set off by any mere touch.

"How'd you manage that?" I ask curiously and then immediately drop the smile, piecing it together. "Don't answer that." I grimace.

"Miss Walsh? Could you please fetch me the scalpel?" Dr Kimberly asks politely. Johnny rids himself of his shorts and right before I can catch a full glimpse of him I turn just in time.

Returning with my eyes half shut I pass her the scalpel. 

"It's throbbing. Can you tell me how it feels? What type of pain is it?" She continues. "The fucking sore kind!" He yelps in his accent.

"Miss Walsh, you can stay and help with apparatus?" Dr Kimberly asks me.

I gape at her, trying hard not to move my eyes even a little to the left. "I'm not looking at that thing! Do it yourself!" I squeal. 

She scowls at me. "Professionalism." She warns. "Fuck that! I'm not being in the vicinity as that little guy any longer than I need to be." I growl.

"Language! And you don't need to look. Just get me my equipment or he could bleed out." She replies.

"Little?!" Johnny yells with shock. "You're more worried about me calling it little than her saying you could bleed out?!" I shout back.

"I'll die just fine with my very big dick! But I won't stand for him being reduced to 'little guy'!" He growls back.

"Johnny!" The Mother squeals with embarrassment.

"No Mam! You've seen it, tell her it isn't small." He begs. "Jaysus! I don't care how big it is. I just don't want to see it." I cringe.

"Scissors, Ms Walsh." My colleague orders. "The scissors are right next to his dick. I turn around and catch one glimpse and I promise you I'll quit right now." I bark.

"Don't bloody turn around then. Just pick up the scissors and hand them to me." 

I huff, reaching out behind me with a searching hand. Almost instantly I wrap my hand around his literal dick. I pause for a moment, processing what I've done. The second I do, I scream in horror, him screaming too in pain.

"Let go!" He shrieks. I let go and run for the sink, throwing off my rubber gloves and scrubbing my hands clean as if the mere touch could've seeped through and contaminated my skin. 

"Now get me the scissors! You've shook its bloody hand. I'm certain you can look at it. You're acquainted." Doctor Kimberly says.

"I'm going to bleach my eyes after this." I growl, but nonetheless turn around to retrieve the scissors.

I physically gag at the sight of the mangled flesh. "Fuckin' hell, maybe this career path is not the one for me." I continue repeatedly gagging.

"Stop gagging! You're making it worse for the poor lad!" Doctor Kimberly scolds. "I can't fucking help it! Why does it look like that!" I grimace with genuine horror.

"You never got an injury?" Johnny howls at me through his pain. "Yeah. But my fanny's never been ripped, mangled, gutted and torn." I yelp in response.

Mrs Kavanagh gapes at me with shock, clearly having not expected that foul language from me. "Shite, sorry." I state, handing the doctor various other equipments at her command.

"This is my last day. Mark my words." I hiss at my colleague, handing her some antiseptic cloth. "No doubt because you'll be fired for cursing and screaming the roof off." Dr Kimberly snarls back at me.

She starts disinfecting it. I watch helplessly as the boy squeezes his eyes shut in clear agony, the sting probably overwhelmingly painful.

"So you play sports. What sports caused this bad boy?" I suggest the conversation to take his mind away from the burn. He glances to his parents, wincing at each swipe of the gauze. 

"Rugby." He grits out. "Dangerous sport. You train with the school?" I ask, glancing between the bloody gauze and his glassy eyes. He makes an effort to look away from both me and his parents, clearly not wanting anyone to see he's in so much pain he's crying a little.

"Play with the school. Train at The Academy." He mumbles out, obviously not thinking straight with his brief answers.

"That's a pretty big deal, right? You must be good." I say with shock. I don't know why I'm surprised, the boy in front of me looks like a machine of a man, pure muscles all over.

"Only the best of his age." The Father nudges the Mother with a very proud grin. 

"I'm certain my Dad would know you. He's obsessed with all that rugby stuff." I smile, handing Dr Kimberly the new set of stitches after sterilising all the equipment.

"Kavanagh.." I say in thought, scouring my mind of every useless conversation with my Father about rugby. "Nope. Not a clue, I'm afraid." I offer a smile.

"Would you stop bleeding rambling. You're not helping the poor lad." Dr Kimberly scolds. 

"No." Johnny instantly yelps, I raise a brow hesitantly. "It's helping.. a lot, actually." He clarifies, his eyes scanning me up and down for the second time.

"Perfect, because I'm probably the best rambler in the world." I state with a shrug, cleaning up some of the equipment used. 

"I think if you met Johnny's best friend you might change your mind. Honestly, that boy talks for Ireland." The Father scoffs. 

"I'm sure we'd make good friends." I laugh. "You actually would. Gibs would love you." Johnny snorts, his mind thankfully far from the pain.

"All done. If you head to the pharmacy you can pick up some pain meds that I'll prescribe you." Dr Kimberly smiles sincerely as she hands me the last of the equipment she used to I can transport it to the sterilising room. 

"Get well soon then, Kavanagh. Hopefully I won't see you any time soon." I wink, he looks offended at first and then he realises my intentions. We live on opposite sides of Cork, so it won't be likely I'll ever see him again unless he decides to rip his stitches again.

"Thanks, Walsh." Johnny smiles as I walk out

A/N:

Am I aware this story is lowkey flopping? Yes. Will it stop me from updating it more than my most popular fics? No. This is probably one of the fics I love writing most because I find it so fun and interesting to write. Plus, when I wrote Riches it flopped until one day it just randomly picked up. I'm not holding out much hope that this will get popular, but ykw, idc. Me before you, lol. I promise the awkward interactions in this aren't me taking myself seriously, I added it cause I'm funny as fuck. I'm kidding. But I am. But I'm still kidding. Enough blabbering. Good night.