#SePTXCC17

Knife

"This is pretty deep, we might need to cut your hand off," the doctor teased, examining Mitch's bleeding hand.

Mitch huffed, not appreciating the doctor's humour - though, he was certainly appreciating everything else, he thought doctors this hot only existed in Grey's Anatomy.

The man laughed as he reached over to drag the tray with his suture kit on it over towards him. "Just a couple stitches and you'll be on your way."

Mitch hadn't planned to spend his evening in the ER, blood oozing out of his hand, but then again he didn't exactly plan to almost chop his hand off with a much too sharp knife.

He couldn't feel anything as the doctor went to work on his hand, the anaesthetic kicking in long ago. He had a hard time looking at the literal fucking needle sewing his skin back together, so instead he focused on the mess of blonde waves in front of him. 

"So how did you manage to do this then?" the doctor enquired as he prodded about Mitch's hand, not even so much as glancing up at him.

"I was opening a package, and I might have gotten a little excited because the knife slipped and almost sliced my hand off," Mitch explained.

The doctor laughed. Mitch really wished he had been paying attention when the man introduced himself instead of just gawking at him like he had. It would make day dreaming, and fantasising, about him a lot easier if he knew what name imaginary Mitch would be screaming out.

"Must have been an amazing package, I hope it was worth it."

"It was my new Balenciaga heels and matching bag, of course it was worth it," Mitch scoffed.

Eventually the doctor sat up straight and rolled his chair away from Mitch, much to Mitch's dismay.

"Okay, you're all done here," he said as he stood up, reaching a hand out to help Mitch get up from the ER bed he was sitting on.

"Thanks, doctor."

Not letting go of the hand he was holding, the doctor smirked. "You're welcome, but call me Scott. And then just call me."

With a wink and another dazzling smile, Scott turned and disappeared into the chaos of the bustling ER. All that was left was a small piece of paper with a number scrawled across it tucked into Mitch's non-injured hand.

I get off at 11