Need You 1/1
Title: Need You
Author: Amber
Summary: Early days. Reid has an asthma attack, and calls Luke.
Note: Inspired by my own attack after celebrating Arcade Fire's Grammy win.
Rating: PG
I can't breathe.
The air is tight, constrained against my chest. I try to draw breath, but find it paused, clogged in my lungs like a stuffed pipe. I cough, loudly. It doesn't help. So I begin breathing, slow and steady. In and out.
Nothing helps.
My phone vibrates. I snatch it in my hand, read the number with slightly blurred vision.
Luke Snyder.
Control is my only savior.
I answer the phone, my voice deceptively steady.
Reid Oliver.
Dr. Oliver, I was just wondering if you wanted to go over -
The oxygen in the room grows fuzzy. I dig my free hand into the counter, and shut my eyes, trying to capture the lessening air in my lungs.
Luke. I interrupt him, as my finger nails scrape the counter, struggling to find purchase.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would delight in his surprise, his strangled breath.
But instead I stutter, stumble, try to latch onto his air.
I can't breathe. I huff, and it's like I'm floating above my body, a shadow of a healthy man. I'm having an asthma attack.
His voice dies, for a moment. Finally, he says quickly, Shit, Reid. What can I do?
I need you. I say without preamble. I need someone to talk me out of it. I used the inhaler once already, and I can't use it again.
Why not? he asks, and I almost chuckle at the exasperated tone in his voice.
Luke, I'm a doctor. I have to follow the rules. I say impatiently.
I sigh in exasperation, and take my first full breath in several minutes.
Fuck. He murmurs. I'm coming over. I can't do this over the phone.
I close my eyes, listen to the muted scuffling as he exits his home.
You don't have to do this, you know. I mumble, scraping the smooth surface with my fingers. I know you hate me.
Jesus, Reid. He says, chuckling slightly. Are you kidding me? You don't know me at all.
I release a frustrated breath, and it causes a hitch in my breathing, which he notices immediately.
Talk to me. he says swiftly. Reid, just talk to me. Don't think about your attack, just -
I inhale, stumbling. The blessed air enters my lungs, and I am heady with the sense of relief.
The first time I saw you, I thought - I start. I fail, as I breathe in and out, steadily. I thought you were the most handsome -
I punch the counter in frustration, and wince as the pain reverberates through my arm.
Reid. he says, his voice a soothing balm on my heightened senses. I really don't want you to confess your great love. Just tell me something stupid. Something funny.
I shrug, though can't see me. I push away from the counter, and begin walking throughout the empty apartment.
Slow and steady, even breaths.
I kissed my first crush when I was twelve, I say softly, words seeping through. He had blonde hair, blue eyes. He was so -
I suck in a heavy breath, and resolutely walk around the living room.
It was like coming home, I confess. Almost silent. It was like -
A quick knock at the door.
I'm there in an instant, and he's there too. His eyes are blazing. I feel his somber gaze travel up and down, taking in my blushing cheeks, and dilated vision.
He puts his hands on my shoulder, gentle.
Sit down, he says firmly. Right now.
I obey, having no choice. The air is a precious commodity, and if Luke can give it back to me, I will do whatever takes to get it back
Lie back down, he stresses.
Without a word of protest, I settle back on the sofa.
His fingers curl against my forehead, stroking my hair for an instant.
Luke? I whisper.
I'll be right back, he says quickly.
He gets up, and disappears from my field of vision.
My eyes flip closed, and I concentrate on breathing. Just breathing.
The next sensation, his hands glide against my checks. He removes my shirt almost clinically, as his fingers, covered in goo, spread against my check.
I suck in air, self-conscious, and more nervous than ever.
Stay still. he chastises me. Just stay still.
Vick's vapor rub, I think, bemused. Where the hell did he get that?
Next thing I know, my shirt is back on, slow but careful. His fingers ghost against my cheek.
He guides me up to lean against the sofa. His eyes glimmer with determination.
From his previously unknown bag, he removes a spacer.
In his other hand, he holds a rescue inhaler.
Two puffs, only. he says.
I frown, confused. I already did -
Shut up. he interrupts me. His hand dance along my leg, before withdrawing. And you, being a doctor. The spacer is much better than a regular inhaler. Just do it.
I nod, too desperate for air.
He places the spacer in my mouth, and watches critically as I gulp two slow puffs.
Good. he says softly. Good.
You can go now, I start to say. I don't need -
My sister, in case you were wondering. I can't believe you don't have a spacer.
I nod, almost giddy with the suddenly restored air.
When I can't breathe, I panic. I confess. All the training is useless.
His brow quirks in sudden amusement. He eases me back onto the couch.
Reid Oliver, he says, declarative. Looks like you're human, after all.
My hand captures his, squeezes, firm and deliberate.
Don't tell anyone, I murmur. I would be ruined.
Never, he reassures me. Never.
I sag back onto the cushions, relishing the oxygen coasting through my body.
You can go now, I murmur. I don't need you.
Yeah. he whispers. His hand tickles my cheek, and I lean into it, subsconsciously.
Yeah, you do.
Author: Amber
Summary: Early days. Reid has an asthma attack, and calls Luke.
Note: Inspired by my own attack after celebrating Arcade Fire's Grammy win.
Rating: PG
I can't breathe.
The air is tight, constrained against my chest. I try to draw breath, but find it paused, clogged in my lungs like a stuffed pipe. I cough, loudly. It doesn't help. So I begin breathing, slow and steady. In and out.
Nothing helps.
My phone vibrates. I snatch it in my hand, read the number with slightly blurred vision.
Luke Snyder.
Control is my only savior.
I answer the phone, my voice deceptively steady.
Reid Oliver.
Dr. Oliver, I was just wondering if you wanted to go over -
The oxygen in the room grows fuzzy. I dig my free hand into the counter, and shut my eyes, trying to capture the lessening air in my lungs.
Luke. I interrupt him, as my finger nails scrape the counter, struggling to find purchase.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would delight in his surprise, his strangled breath.
But instead I stutter, stumble, try to latch onto his air.
I can't breathe. I huff, and it's like I'm floating above my body, a shadow of a healthy man. I'm having an asthma attack.
His voice dies, for a moment. Finally, he says quickly, Shit, Reid. What can I do?
I need you. I say without preamble. I need someone to talk me out of it. I used the inhaler once already, and I can't use it again.
Why not? he asks, and I almost chuckle at the exasperated tone in his voice.
Luke, I'm a doctor. I have to follow the rules. I say impatiently.
I sigh in exasperation, and take my first full breath in several minutes.
Fuck. He murmurs. I'm coming over. I can't do this over the phone.
I close my eyes, listen to the muted scuffling as he exits his home.
You don't have to do this, you know. I mumble, scraping the smooth surface with my fingers. I know you hate me.
Jesus, Reid. He says, chuckling slightly. Are you kidding me? You don't know me at all.
I release a frustrated breath, and it causes a hitch in my breathing, which he notices immediately.
Talk to me. he says swiftly. Reid, just talk to me. Don't think about your attack, just -
I inhale, stumbling. The blessed air enters my lungs, and I am heady with the sense of relief.
The first time I saw you, I thought - I start. I fail, as I breathe in and out, steadily. I thought you were the most handsome -
I punch the counter in frustration, and wince as the pain reverberates through my arm.
Reid. he says, his voice a soothing balm on my heightened senses. I really don't want you to confess your great love. Just tell me something stupid. Something funny.
I shrug, though can't see me. I push away from the counter, and begin walking throughout the empty apartment.
Slow and steady, even breaths.
I kissed my first crush when I was twelve, I say softly, words seeping through. He had blonde hair, blue eyes. He was so -
I suck in a heavy breath, and resolutely walk around the living room.
It was like coming home, I confess. Almost silent. It was like -
A quick knock at the door.
I'm there in an instant, and he's there too. His eyes are blazing. I feel his somber gaze travel up and down, taking in my blushing cheeks, and dilated vision.
He puts his hands on my shoulder, gentle.
Sit down, he says firmly. Right now.
I obey, having no choice. The air is a precious commodity, and if Luke can give it back to me, I will do whatever takes to get it back
Lie back down, he stresses.
Without a word of protest, I settle back on the sofa.
His fingers curl against my forehead, stroking my hair for an instant.
Luke? I whisper.
I'll be right back, he says quickly.
He gets up, and disappears from my field of vision.
My eyes flip closed, and I concentrate on breathing. Just breathing.
The next sensation, his hands glide against my checks. He removes my shirt almost clinically, as his fingers, covered in goo, spread against my check.
I suck in air, self-conscious, and more nervous than ever.
Stay still. he chastises me. Just stay still.
Vick's vapor rub, I think, bemused. Where the hell did he get that?
Next thing I know, my shirt is back on, slow but careful. His fingers ghost against my cheek.
He guides me up to lean against the sofa. His eyes glimmer with determination.
From his previously unknown bag, he removes a spacer.
In his other hand, he holds a rescue inhaler.
Two puffs, only. he says.
I frown, confused. I already did -
Shut up. he interrupts me. His hand dance along my leg, before withdrawing. And you, being a doctor. The spacer is much better than a regular inhaler. Just do it.
I nod, too desperate for air.
He places the spacer in my mouth, and watches critically as I gulp two slow puffs.
Good. he says softly. Good.
You can go now, I start to say. I don't need -
My sister, in case you were wondering. I can't believe you don't have a spacer.
I nod, almost giddy with the suddenly restored air.
When I can't breathe, I panic. I confess. All the training is useless.
His brow quirks in sudden amusement. He eases me back onto the couch.
Reid Oliver, he says, declarative. Looks like you're human, after all.
My hand captures his, squeezes, firm and deliberate.
Don't tell anyone, I murmur. I would be ruined.
Never, he reassures me. Never.
I sag back onto the cushions, relishing the oxygen coasting through my body.
You can go now, I murmur. I don't need you.
Yeah. he whispers. His hand tickles my cheek, and I lean into it, subsconsciously.
Yeah, you do.