Y/N falls and Harry's pre-med (Patreon)

Just some cutesy, boy meets girl because she stole his hammock and fell right out of it

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In retrospect, Y/N should’ve known better than to climb into a hammock that wasn’t her own. Even if it might be abandoned at a park and she’d scouted it out for at least an hour to make sure nobody was coming back to it, before thoroughly convincing herself that it was for the public. She still should have just kept her spot beneath the thick oak tree she sat beside, reading her book and sipping from the sweating water bottle she brought with her. 

She didn’t though, because the sun was rising higher as it bore closer to noon, and the shadows she’d been hidden beneath slowly shrank away until the heat licked the skin of her legs and creeped up her thighs. And when she looked over to the navy blue hammock, it stayed completely shrouded in the coverage of trees thick with leaves. So it was either let the sun heat up her skin to the point she was uncomfortable, or take her chances with a cozy seat in the cooled part of the park. 

Taking her chances proved good for all around thirty minutes, when she was met with clearing of a throat that made her nearly jump from her skin, “Excuse me?” The voice was deep, raspy, and belonged to that of a boy who gave her a sheepish smile when she sat up and the hammock makes her swing back and forth, “Um. . .this is my hammock.” 

Y/N is thrown, not only because it would be just her luck that the owner would decide to swing around when she climbed her way in, but he would have to be something short of ungodly cute wouldn’t he? His hair was a soft, fluffed brown that held the makings of curls, that sweep around the shell of his ears and eyes a darling, marbled green that she found great trouble at looking into. He wore a light colored shirt and sweatpants, clutching what appeared to be a physics book in his hand (which was decorated with a dark, colored in cross tattoo). 

She was in no position to meeting anyone even remotely this nice to look at and she knew as much, as she panicked, “Oh,” she scrambled, trying to find the bookmark she had laid haphazardly beside her, “I’m so sorry, I thought that --” 

Her eyes fall away from him, as she plucks it up, slipping it on the page she’d been on, “Thought this was like, public or something, I shouldn’t have -- I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really, m’just about to make myself suffer anyways. The longer you take the more we prolong the inevitable studying I have to do.” He tried to lighten the mood and comfort her, she guesses, but Y/N can only give a halfhearted giggle as she was still moving all too frantically to listen, embarrassment swallowing her whole. “Really, it’s fine Babe, don’t rush yourself.” Y/N wouldn’t rush if he wasn’t so cute, and seemingly smooth, and didn’t call her babe. She was way too jittery for him to just casually sound even remotely flirty, because as she tries to step out onto the soft soil beneath her, she instead gets tangled in the fabric. The hammock twists and flips, pouring her out of it in a tumble that makes her squawk out in a panic. 

Y/N finds herself covered in leaves, her knee and the corner of her forehead burning, and her mind feeling boggled -- had it spun her all the way around? And, oh fuck, was that boy still staring at her?

She looks up to find him staring at her with wide, worried eyes, dropping his Chemistry book as he bends down to her level, “Shit! Are you alright? Oh fuck, you’re bleeding.” He reaches up, pausing and as his fingers just stop a breath away from where a pain radiates from her forehead. 

Reaching up herself, her fingers touch gently against the wound and she hisses soundly, the tip of her finger stickied with her own red blood, “Oh,” she murmurs, wincing, “Tha’s not pretty, is it?” 

“We should get you to the hospital, I think you’ve bumped your head on a rock,” he motions towards one particularly sharp one that she doesn’t remember hitting against but her blood staining it proved that she very much did make contact with it, “And it looks like it may be deep.” He reaches up again, moving her hair from her forehead and grimacing when he sees it, “Christ.” 

“You would be really great at comforting someone,” she jests, placing her hands on the ground to stand, “I probably just need to clean it out, I guess.” 

He seems unsure, biting his lip for a second before offering, “At least let me help you clean it out. I’ve got a first aid kit in my car.” The boy points back towards the car lot, “It’s the least I could do -- didn’t mean to make you seem like you had to rush or anything.” 

“You’ve got a kit in your car?” She questions him and he nods, so she nods back, “Yeah, okay, s’long as you promise not to like -- like kill me, or something.” 

Snorting, he shakes his head and picks up not only his Physics book, but her book as well and grabs her water bottle, “Yeah, in a very public park, with loads of people around and my car parked in the middle of a sunny lot,” he reached his hand out for her to help her stand up, his other swinging around to grip her shoulder when she wobbles forward, “Skilled killer, I’d say.” 

She hums, eye squinting at the light as they walk into it. He leads them to the parking lot, looking back at her every so often like he was making sure she was still standing upright and not passed out three feet behind him. Harry does keep up idle chatter, proving to be quite funny and she wishes she could give him more of a reaction to let him know but she’s in pain, limping but refused his offer of helping her walk. Though she does give him a few smiles and she thinks that’s enough to encourage him. He pops open the driver’s side of his car, taking her by the hand and helping her raise off the ground to sit on the edge of the seat, “There we go,” he pats her knee, before reaching to the backseat and disappearing from view. Y/N takes a minute to look around, seeing that he’s got floral floor matts, and a jasmine scented air freshener slung around his rearview mirror. It was warm in here but not like it had been baking in the sun very long, as she leans into the cushioned seats. 

He reappears, his skin glimmering in the sunlight as he stands before her with the white printed kit, popping it open and setting it on her bare thigh, “Alright, Pet,” he takes a slab of gauze and drizzles some of the water from her water bottle onto it, before brushing her hair from her forehead and begins to pat the blood away from her skin. Y/N tries not to be so obvious about how much it’s hurting her but he still looks apologetic, frowning as he attempts to be gentle, “Poor thing.” He tuts his tongue, shaking his head as he tosses the dirtied gauze into the kit, “It’s not as deep as I thought, so no stitches -- just a bit of , but I would feel better if we stayed together for a little while in case you start feeling ill. You fell quite hard, you could have a concussion.” 

Y/N pouts, “I don’t want a concussion,” she whines, and he smiles softly, making her insides twist and burn because his lips were such a soft, amaranth color and she quite wouldn’t mind kissing him would she? But he was a stranger -- a kind stranger, but a stranger nonetheless, so she couldn’t. . .could she? No she couldn’t, “I just want a good head.” 

“You’ve got a good head,” he murmurs, taking out a spray and Y/N eyes it as he says so, “Nice, pretty face on it but every good head can have a little fault sometimes.” 

She snorts, closing her eyes and tilting her head down but Harry tilts her head back up from underneath her chin, “Stop it -- y’don’t have to flatter me, m’already letting you clean my bloody head.” 

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, m’really hitting the jackpot here, aren’t I?” With a hum she lets him spritz her and winces away from it but he shushes her quietly and continues, before digging around in the kit dragging out a packet, along with a large bandage -- one fit for large scrapes. He tears the packet open and squeezes the ointment on the cut, spreading it with the packet before taking the bandage and stretching it over mark, “There we are. How about your knee, let us see it.” 

So he works on her knee in the same fashion, while Y/N leans the non-injured side of her head on the headrest of her car. She felt less dizzy about the fall and more dizzy about the fact that he was working with such gentle hands, like she might be made of a delicate piece of porcelain. His bottom lip suckled into his mouth as he focused on her knee, using all the same steps as he had with her forehead. 

After he finished (working rather diligently, she might add), he takes all the trash and crumbles it in his hand, placing i it in the kit and shutting right with a click, “There we are, all better,” he murmurs, though he takes a moment to peer st her untrusting, “How are you feeling?”

Shrugging, she reaches up to touch at the bandaged wound, fingertips just barely grazing it, “Good. Thank you for helping me.”

“Hmm,” he hums, eyeing her skeptically, “I was serious about staying together a while though, in case you don’t feel good — lemme…” he reaches into his pocket, taking out his phone and before she could comprehend what he was doing, he had his flashlight on his phone open and shining it in her eye. She winces, blinking a few times but he makes a pleased noise, “Your pupils are reacting though, so that’s good.”

“Are you a doctor or something?” She asks him, and he gives a small, sheepish smile.

“Hoping to be,” he responds, giving her his hand to help her jump from the car, “I’m pre-med right now, going on my third year.”

She sniffles, wincing when she has to put any sort of pressure on her knee, “You’re already very doctor-y, you’ll make a good one.”

“Well you were a good patient. If I had a sucker I would give it to you, but sadly I only have my debit card and a hankering for the waffles at the diner across the street.” He motions towards it, and Y/N’s not understanding what he means until he continues, “It’s my treat, if you’re hungry. If not you can just watch me cram food down my throat but either way I’m not leaving you alone until m’certain you’re fine.” Then he motions to her knee, “We can walk if you don’t want to take my car, you could jus’ lean your weight on me.”

“S’not too far a walk, is it?” She gauges it, then swinging her leg back and forth, “Think I ought’a be okay, considering you’ve doctored me up. I’ll let you buy me waffles too, but I’d like to know your name at the very least. Mostly so I know who to ask for, for free service at the hospital when I’ve got a fever.” 

He grins wide at her and Y/N feels her heart leap in her chest. 

“I’m Harry.” 

She holds her hand out and he clasps his own in hers, “Nice to meet you, Dr. Harry, I’m Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, thank you for being my first patient.”