Surgeon Harry and Nurse Y/N (Patreon)

Me?? Starting a new mini series?? What a shocker :D

Let me know if you guys like this :)

(and before you ask, I'll be writing the next part of sugar!daddy-ish part 5)

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Being a surgeon at a new hospital was terrible. 

Being new anywhere was terrible, actually, but being new at a hospital was the worst of all Harry’s certain of it. Everything is new; a whole new floor plan, whole new schedule, whole new patients, and a whole new staff -- the only thing that stayed true to word were the procedures but even with that he’d been surprised quite a few times. Harry is a creature of habitat -- the only spontaneous things he likes are surgeries, but if everything around him could stay basically the same then he is happy, so being new was especially hard in that area. 

What made it even harder though? What made him drag himself from the bed, almost agonizing the thought of interacting with anyone other than a few particularly sweet OR nurses? 

Everyone was bloody mean! Downright rotten on the inside, surprisingly enough, especially the head of the department who apparently didn’t much want Harry as an Attending in Pediatrics but the Chief Physician liked Harry a lot. He doesn’t know what he did, because he’d been fighting five other people for this job -- some with much more experience under their belt who a very long standing Attending -- Dr. Robson, who had served his residency there -- had even suggested and pushed for -- but he’d won out. He was almost entirely convinced it was because they’d somehow mutually bonded on a love for Fleetwood Mac. 

But he didn’t question it -- he integrated himself into the hospital, got himself familiar with the layout, the schedule, the floor plan, but for the life of him he just couldn’t mesh with the people! Maybe it’s because he works with children all day. . .maybe he was just so accustomed to speaking with small humans who believe in all these lovely, magical things and were still freshly taught that kindness is key. Maybe he just wasn’t used to speaking with adults, or maybe they were just unsure of who he was as a person, but everyone was very cliquey, and always looked at him like he was some invasive pest.

In some ways it was good. It pushed him to do near flawless work on the first surgeries he’d done just to prove himself, not only to the OR nurses, and residents who were standing near by and very clearly loved the previous Pediatric Attending and were already set on not liking him -- but for Dr. Robson too. And while the nurses and residents were warming up to him day by day, this man was not shaking. Would make snide comments, sometimes observe surgeries, doing more ordering than suggesting ways to do certain procedures, would never even compliment his work (which he didn’t need but it would be nice at the very least). 

It didn’t shake him though. Harry loved kids and loved helping them. . .saving them, and a crotchety doctor barely a few years older than him wasn’t going to scare him off. But he still wished that he had a few friends here -- or at the very least someone to talk to. To agree with him if he had to swing something by them, or just wanted to discuss how the hospital fruit cups were kind of shit. 

Especially in moments like this; when he definitely knew he was going to need an advocate. Dr. Robson himself had made the call that a ten year old girl was suffering pain from mesenteric lymphadenitis opposed to the appendicitis that her parents had originally thought. However, a very frantic father had shot his arm out of their room and grabbed Harry’s arm because his daughter was having an intense, sharp pain and upon further inspection (including the realization that there was about five empty jugs of water on her table, he realizes that it really had been her appendix. 

They’d rushed to an OR, got scrubbed in, and Harry was certain that he was going to get an upbraiding for this. Even if he was right, Dr. Robson was not one who liked to be proven wrong, and by someone he already hated? There was no chance he was going to get by without him being a massive prick about it. 

For some reason Harry had thought the man would be at least more professional about it, like not bursting through the doors of the OR while Harry was taking care of a very ruptured appendix, hovering a mask over his mouth, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Removing her appendix.” Harry answers, keeping his hands steady despite the anger that began to bubble beneath him -- he doesn’t like to be talked down to, not one bit, but he wasn’t a fighter. Much more of a lover, actually, and would rather kill him with kindness but that’s been spinning into just killing him instead. 

“Why would you be doing that?” He all but snaps at him, “She had mesenteric ly--” 

“We thought she had mesenteric lymphadenitis, but upon further evaluation I found it was appendicitis. The appendix had ruptured and the father had stopped me, so I had to operate.” 

“Well, you should’ve called me --” 

Then, like the voice of an angel, someone cuts him off. Fearlessly and intensely, better than Harry ever could, “With all do respect Dr. Robson, you made a mistake, and thankfully Dr. Styles was nearby for the father to reach because you were nowhere in sight. He took on a patient who wasn’t his own minutes before he got off of a seventeen hour shift because you weren’t answering your pager and got to her before she could become septic, so if anything you should be thanking him -- not barging in while he’s knuckles deep in a twelve year old’s abdomen to scold him, now get the hell out of his OR.” 

There was silence. Thick silence, that Harry had only been sure would be filled with Dr. Robson’s yelling and scolding and firing even though Harry’s positive he’s not allowed to do that. He’d lifted his head, seeing a scrub nurse who was peering at Robson like he’d stepped on a puppy, and much to Harry’s surprise -- he submitted to her. Like a scared, bushy tailed cat -- he ducked out of the OR without another word. 

There were a few more moments of silence before Harry finally cleared his throat, “Thank you,” he went back to work, moving his hands diligently, chancing another look up at the girl who had defended him, “Very much, but you don’t have to get on his bad side for me.” 

“It’s no problem,” she responded, shaking her head, “Robson’s always pissed me off. We were in the same Anatomy class back in Sophomore year of UNI and he’s always been way too big for his britches. Only difference between me and him is he could afford medical school but I’m about five hundred percent sure I’m smarter than him and he agrees.” Harry had thought that might be the end of it with the rest of the people in the OR, scrub nurses and anesthesiologist included laugh gently but she gives one final huff of, “You’ve been nothing but kind and a great surgeon and he’s been a major ass too for no reason. He’s lucky I don’t tell the chief what I walked in on in the on-call room.” 

Harry chuckles, shaking his head slow, reveling in being apart of the locker room gossip, “What’s your name?” Harry asks her because he decides right then and there, that he’s recruiting this girl as his new work best friend, even if he has to break his back to become her friend. She was the first person to have ever stood up for him against Robson and the first person to speak so highly of him and he really needed that kind of support. 

“Y/N,” she answers, and holds out the forceps before he can even think to ask for them, “Nice to officially meet you, Dr. Styles.” 

Harry grins beneath his mask. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

                                                            .                               .                       .

Harry finds that everyone is willing to spill the beans about one another if given the proper coaxing (two dozen donuts, various flavors, handing them out after going through his post-ops) so he finds out more about Y/N. Like that she’s supposed to be day shift but they’re so short staffed for nurses she comes in whenever she’s needed, she graduated the top of her class in school, she could probably do some of the surgeries herself (people put a lot of their faith into her), and she’s immensely good with kids. . .babies too, apparently. . .and it’s an ongoing rumor that she can hush newborns within a minute tops. 

And she hates Robson. Hates most doctors actually, but Harry is the only one that anybody has ever heard her speak highly of, which kind of makes him entirely too giddy. 

So he chances talking to her -- spotted her at the cafeteria sitting by herself in light pink scrubs, a grilled cheese in one hand, and a phone in the other, scrolling lazily. He had his own tray, walking over to her table, and trying to ignore how nervous he feels when he gets closer. More nervous than he’s felt in a very long time, as he sidles up beside her, “Excuse me, Y/N?” He begins, and he watches as she looks up from the phone, “Can I sit with you?” 

Nodding, she gleams up at him with a smile. . .god, a smile that he thinks is just way too beautiful all at once, “Course, Dr. Styles, have a seat.” 

“It’s Harry,” he begins, “Just Harry, not Dr. Styles.” 

“Okay just Harry,” she plucks a grape off it’s branch, “Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of our wonderful Peds surgeon eating lunch with me.” 

Harry smiles gently, his heart kicking up in his chest, “I just wanted to thank you again, for standing up for me,” he responds, “It’s been hard trying to acclimate to the people here and I haven’t felt very welcome until that moment. So. . .” he looks at his tray, plucks the last dessert pizza he’d managed to get saved for him (there was a very nice dietary aide who’d taken a liking to him), and slides it over to her, “I’d like to offer this perfectly good dessert pizza to you, with a nice white chocolate drizzle.” 

Her face lights up like the sun, taking the dessert pizza from him happily, “Ah!” She cheers, “Wow, a delicious treat for tearing Robson a new one? I found myself the perfect job, didn’t I?” She points at it, swirling her finger around, “Sort of looks like semen, instead of white chocolate, but I’ll still eat it. Want half?” Before he can answer, she begins cutting it in two right down the middle, “Now, as sweet as your thank you’s are, you don’t have to tell me. Don’t be a prick and I’ll take care of you here, agreed?” She holds his half out to him, waving it happily. 

Taking the piece from her, he nods as he places it on the plate, “Agreed,” he takes the applesauce cup off his tray and peels it open, “Is this arrangement offered to all the new Attendings?” 

She nudges at his leg with her foot, dropping her eyelid in a playful wink. 

“Only the ones I like.”