Sneak peek of gang harry part 3 (Patreon)

Just a little peek into what's going on so far :) 

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iii.

Y/N has seen a lot of blood. 

The first time she’d seen it and had a complete understanding of what it was, she was five. There was a dense thicket just outside the garden of her grandmother’s home entangled with roses. When she was young, she enjoyed playing around it, pretending that there was a monster that hid within the bushes who ate little kids but she was the only one he liked. She had been a lonely child so the thought of something who despised other beings but her -- had made her feel good in away. And part of being friends with the monster was to share snacks, only she couldn’t toss him a slice of cake like how she would potato chips or fruit snacks. 

So she took the cake, held it out to the monster, dipping her hand into the bush and the thorn of a rose dragged against her skin. She snatched her hand away with a yelp, eyes beading with tears from the sting, but Y/N becomes distracted by the small droplets of blood that pool up to the surface of her skin. It was the first time she recalled seeing it on herself and a small bead of panic dripped down her spine but it was overcome by a certain wonder. A wonder that only a kid could have about their insides, because at the time she had no clue she had broken a protective layer of skin, damaging the blood vessels. At the time, she had thought her skin was mad at her - that her body was crying. 

She touched it, found it sticky, tasted it just to see before smearing the bit that had dribbled down her hand, sliding around her knuckles. The monster had felt so terribly guilty about her wound but she promised him it was okay, that he had shown her something new that day and that was pretty darn spiffy, wasn’t it? 

As she grew older she saw it more and it had never made her squeamish. Big gashes where you can see muscle and bone kind of do her sometimes, but the blood never did. Then she became a nurse and sometimes she’ll see it every hour, it just depended on the day. She was used to it - she had been since the monster had made her privy to it. 

That didn’t mean she particularly wanted it on her couch. 

There was no time though, at the moment that Harry and Mickey showed up at her door with Mitch, pleading for her help. He needed to lay down, only halfway consciousness, and as strong as she wants to believe Harry and Mickey are, they’ve been tossed around a bit as well. So she told them to get him on the couch while she rushed to her bathroom, where she had effectively stored a ton of medical supplies that she either buys or takes from the hospital during the night shift  (which every nurse does; Janet had explained to her that they order too many supplies and “don’t pay us enough anyway, we get our digs in how we can”). She had bandages, gauze, antibiotic creams, a saline solution for cleaning it, gloves, adhesive patches, and some medical tape. All of it would be too much to carry so she bundles it all in her shirt, including a few wet flannels (and some dry) so that she could clean it in the first place, and her scissors. 

Her pace is quick, ushering Harry and Mickey out of her way, “Mickey in my freezer there’s a few ice bags in the door, could you grab them for me?” He gave a curt nod and pivots on his heel towards the kitchen, “Do ya know if he’s allergic to any kind of medicine?” Harry shakes his head quickly, Y/N notes the wild look in his eye, worried and frazzled beyond belief - it was weird to see him this way. . .he was never like that, “Alright, I’ve got some extra strength Tylenol in the medicine cabinet, it’s on the left side of the microwave. Bring me that and a glass of water could you?” He jogs off into the kitchen and Y/N turns her attention to Mitch, giving a little tap to Mitch’s cheek, “Oi, Mitch, can you stay awake for me, Babe?” 

He gives a halfhearted nod, groaning as she does a quick scan over his body, noticing blood on his shirt, so she peels up the fabric and reveals a nasty cut starting near his belly button and dragged outward towards his hip. It wasn’t deep, mostly a surface wound, but it was enough to where this would take her first priority. She stuffs his shirt up, letting the things pool from where they were cupped in her shirt, snags the gloves on her hands and taking the wet cloth, cleaning the area around the cut so that she could visualize what was actually wound and what was just blood. The blood smears and watery it dribbles down his side, Harry and Mickey both arrive back in the room, so she nods towards him, “Give him two, put the peas on the table.” 

“Is there anything else we can do?” Harry asks and she bites down on her lip, worrying it between her teeth. 

“How are you too, are you good?” She asks, and she gets two hums in response, “Alright, one of you could clean around his face, get the blood out of the way with the purple cloth. Otherwise, take some pain medicine and drink some water, I’ll look over you lot when 'm finished with him.” 

Harry is the one who ends up worrying over Mitch’s face, while Y/N continues on his stomach. Once she gets a clear outline of the cut, she wets another cloth with just a bit of the saline solution, “This is g’na sting, Mitch but it’ll help you in the long run, yeah? M’cleaning it.” She cleans his cut, murmuring another small apology when he groans and whines out at the pain of it. 

The rest she does diligently; spreads the antibiotic ointment over it in a nice, thin layer shining under the living room light, and lays two square bandages over the cut. She dries the skin that the adhesive would be on, before taking a rectangular piece and adhering it to his skin. From his stomach she checks his legs, dragging down his pants to see if there were any abrasions on his legs, took his shoes off to check his feet, and when she found nothing she went upward. Harry had taken it upon himself to clean the blood from his knuckles and Y/N thanked him for it, before checking the swelling. After asking him if he could wiggle his fingers for her even just a little (he could), she lied the ice package (covered in a special cloth that kept from giving him ice burn) so that it over his knuckles. She loops the ace bandage around his knuckles, fixing the ice to his right hand which was considerably more damage. She checks his arms, has him turn over so she could check his back and other than a few nasty bruises and scrapes he was fine. For his face, she smooths antibiotic cream over the cut on his brow, put another ice packet at his eye, and checked around his head for any other potential problems and asks if he had fallen or hit his head (more of a room question than just to him). 

“Are you feeling any better?” She asks him and he nods a little, wincing as she helps him roll his shirt off of himself, “Alright, I wish I had morphine but I’ve only got Tylenol, so if the pain gets terrible again you let me know.” She tosses the cloth that she used off to the side, throwing away the trash she had from packets of antibiotic and bandage wrappers in a grocery bag she had stuffed under her couch. Peeling off her gloves, she tosses those too, before taking her plaid throw blanket and pulling it over his body. “You rest for now.”

She moves to Mickey, who is dozing off on her one-seater, his pants already off as Harry had instructed him to strip to make her life easier (which made her smile when she heard it). He just had a few scrapes but otherwise, he was fine, so she coaxed more water down his throat, asked if at any point he had gotten hit or fallen on his head and when Harry says no, she grabs another blanket. Fans it over him, and squeezes his shoulder, “Holler if you need anything.” 

Y/N locks eyes with Harry and nods her head towards the hallway as she turns off the lamps in her living room, leaving only the hazy glow of her fairy lights hung at the ceiling. Harry follows after her as she leads him to the bathroom, shutting the door with a click behind them, “Sit on the toilet for me.” She murmured and Harry followed her orders. 

“I’m so sorry Babe,” he begins as she settles some of the stuff from the living room onto the sink counter, putting her fingers beneath his chin and tilting his face up towards the light, checking the scratch on his forehead, “You were about to fall asleep, weren’t you?” 

She hums quietly, going to the sink so that she could wash her hands, “Don’t worry about it,” she shakes her head, flicking her fingers dry, then picking up the tube of antibiotic ointment, “Are you hurt anywhere else? Did you check?” 

He nods quickly, “Just a few bruises on my legs but I couldn’t see my back and I trust Mickey to spot somethin’ as far as I can throw him.” 

“Go ahead n’strip your shirt off,” she tells him, and Harry moves to comply, tugging the shirt over his head and curling it up in his hand. Y/N takes it from his grasp and tosses it to the corner of the room because she planned on running their clothes through the washer. She has him twist his body some as she does a quick scan over his skin, touching at his costovertebral angle and asking if he was tender. When he said no, she has him turn back around and tends to the cut on his forehead. He had already gone through the trouble of washing it, so she merely has to stroke the cream over his scrape, “Tell me what happened, Pet.” 

Harry’s cheeks are flushed a rosy tinge, looking up to her - his eyes are glossy but not from tears, he only looks tired, “Mitch bumped into the bloke who’s been following you ‘round at a club and -- well Mitch had a few choice words for him and his mates before we were around. They fight dirty, Love, and it was three against one until me and Mickey came round, then it was an all-out brawl.” 

“Brawl?” Y/N squints her eyes, “But you were barely touched.” 

A triumphant grin spreads across Harry’s cheeks, “S’cos I’m good! What you don’ believe it?” 

She snorts, shaking her head as she moves down to scratch at his collarbone,  “You don’t strike me as scrappy.”

“Mighty scrappy, the lot of us are,” he explains to her, wincing just a little when her fingers touch to the cut, “Especially when someone is threatening our girl.” 

Y/N tries not to feel so squirmy and soft about it, that she had somehow been inaugurated into their pack without so much as knowing it. A warmth blooms through her, starting at the very core of her body and spindling outward, sucking her in. Our girl. Why does that make her heart skip a beat? Is it because it is coming from Harry’s mouth? How he said it so confidently; it means that she’s Harry girl too doesn’t it? 

However, while she wants to revel in the warmth of it, she still has questions, “Was -- well, did you find anything out? About why they would be following Gibson? Or following me for that matter?” 

Grimacing when she scoots over to his shoulder, he hisses at the sting, “Not much more. The most we got is them yelling somethin’ about our ‘fucker of a boss deserves to be in the hospital’ over an incredibly confusing techno remix of one of Ed Sheeran’s older songs - think it was Lego House actually.” He shrugs his shoulders, licking his dry mouth, “We’ve got a better feel for who these kinds of blokes are though, so we’ll be hiring someone to take care of it.” 

“Like a private investigator or something?” 

“Yeah, something of that nature.” He sighs, shaking his head sadly, “I’m so sorry you got mixed up in all this, Sweetheart. Even t’night, I didn’t want to bother you but there -- there was nowhere else we could go. We don’ like bloody cops, they’re corrupt in this town I’ll tell you that, and Mitch hates hospitals. Plus, there’s no way we wouldn’t get questioned with how torn up he was.”

Y/N squeezes his bicep, “It’s okay, you didn’t do it,” she takes a slip of gauze and places it over the one on his shoulder, a little rougher than the scratch on his forehead, and fits it over the wound. She cuts off four slivers of tape to secure it to his shoulder, “And m’not too fond of being the patient in hospitals either; not every nurse can be as great as me so I don’ trust them.” She teases and Harry snorts around a chuckle, patting her hip lightly. Y/N fixes the gauze to the cut and breathes a sigh, “Right then, take off your jeans then there’s a huge bloodstain on the pant leg,” she points down to it and Harry looks, seeming surprised that it existed, “You guys are staying the night here, so m’running all your clothes through the washer.” 

“You just want me outta my pants.” He jests, standing up and beginning to unbuckle his belt, the leather scraping together in soft whooshing sounds, before the clink of it hitting against his button as he pops it open and drags the zip down. Y/N pushes away the prurient thoughts that tickle her brain, swallowing thickly and attempting to keep the guise of profession. She won’t allow herself to look below his abdomen, and above his thighs, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind if she would be looking at all, “Ya don’ have to look so nervous, Babe, I willed away a stiffy from seeing you in action about twenty or so minutes ago.” 

“God, Harry!” She all but squeaks, shaking her head, “You’re too much.”