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There are very few things in this world that Anthony “Racetrack” Higgins is afraid of. He’s long since overcome stage fright and nerves as a seasoned performer of stage and screen. He’s made a fool of himself in countless auditions across New York City. He’s quick to jump at new experiences with a daredevil attitude, conquering any nerves or fears he had at the first chance he had. Race likes to consider himself a very rational and logical person, unafraid of anything.
But, he’s lying. He’s afraid of one thing.
Racetrack Higgins is deathly afraid of needles.
It’s a secret he keeps close to his chest, something that’s between him and the unfortunate nurses who have to deal with him whenever he has to get a flu shot or blood drawn. His friends who see him as a daredevil who’s gone skydiving not once but twice don’t need to know that he’s blacked out almost every single time he’s had bloodwork done since he was twelve years old. The friends who praise his bravery for trying exotic foods and being the first to volunteer for improv challenges in master-classes have no need to know about how he cried getting a flu shot and got so scared that he almost knocked over the poor nurse at the CVS.
No one had to know any of those things now, even when vaccines were such a big deal, with the performing industry still closed and the world in the midst of a global pandemic.
This is fine , Race tells himself, the entire time he waits in line for his first vaccine shot, after months of quarantine and unemployment and self-tapes and socially-distant visits with friends and family and endless Zoom meetings and days upon days of governmental failures. You can do this. Just close your eyes. Don’t open them until it’s over. Order an uber and go home. You can do this.
Race hypes himself up the entire time he waits in line, reminding himself of all the fun things he’s going to buy himself on Amazon when this is over, the food he’ll order for lunch to be delivered, the friend he’ll see tomorrow for a picnic in the park to celebrate getting vaccinated with. He almost forgets how terrified he is when volunteers check over his paperwork and ID and assign him a number and usher him inside the facility, and it’s not until he’s sitting inside, surrounded by nurses and volunteers and patients and syringes that the fear sets back in.
There are needles fucking everywhere .
Race is glad he’s sitting down because he can feel the blood rush from his face and his knees grow weak as he watches a volunteer hurry past with a tray filled with fresh vaccines.
“Oh, God,” Race whimpers, looking up wide eyed as a volunteer directs him to a nurses station. Race starts forward on shaky legs to the small cubicle, set up with two seats, a laptop on a small metal table, medical supplies in a box, and an extremely attractive male nurse wiping everything down.
“Hi,” The nurse starts, gesturing for Race to sit. “I’m Nurse Conlon, take a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second.”
Race almost forgets his fears for a second as he studies the nurse’s face, his chiseled, handsome features, thick eyebrows and dark eyes, beautiful sharp jawline visible even with the medical mask. Nurse Conlon goes over Race’s paperwork, entering information into the computer and taking out some supplies quickly, clearly in a routine.
“How are you doin’ today, Anthony?” Nurse Conlon asks, making small talk, glancing Race over. He does a double take, those dark eyes growing inquisitive. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Race asks, blinking slow. “I...yeah, I’m…”
Nurse Conlon smirks. “You need’a second?”
Race nods, running a hand over his eyes, breathing a slow breath in and out through his mask.
“Are you nervous?” The nurse asks, putting a gentle hand on Race’s arm, retracting it as Race jumps.
“A little, yeah,” Race squeaks, wincing. “I’m uh...a little afraid of needles, sorry,” he admits, feeling his cheeks redden with embarrassment as the nurse smiles beneath the mask, eyes softening with understanding.
“Gotcha,” The nurse says. “We’ll go slow. My name’s Sean, by the way. Take deep breaths for me Tony, yeah? Which arm do you want it in?”
Race holds out his left arm, and Sean nods, rolling up Race’s t-shirt sleeve gently.
“You keep your eyes closed, I’ll talk you through it, okay?” Sean offers, and Race nods, squeezing his eyes shut.
“What do you do, Tony?” Sean asks as he takes out a wipe and sanitizes Race’s shoulder.
“I’m an actor,” Race says shakily. “Broadway, off-Broadway, commercials, Law and Order once. Just did a movie thing.”
“Anything I might’ve seen?” Sean asks, making quick work of the vaccine on the side table.
“Only if you like musicals,” Race admits, flinching hard as Sean injects the vaccine. He bites his lip hard to keep from whining, flustered enough from the kindness the too-handsome nurse has shown him to cry on top of it.
“All done,” Sean says, quickly putting a bandaid on Race’s shoulder and fixing his sleeve. “You’re good to go. You feel okay?”
“Yep!” Race nods, taking a deep breath as he tries to gather the courage to stand. He does, and immediately directly collapses into the nurse’s very muscular arms.
When Race wakes up no more than a minute later, it's to Nurse Conlon, a volunteer and a paramedic standing around him as he’s laid flat on the ground in Nurse Conlon’s station.
“Anthony?” Sean asks gently, his gloved hand running through Race’s blonde curls. “Are you with me?”
Race nods, trying to sit up, being held back down by the paramedic, who quickly checks him over, shining a light in his eyes and slowly helping him up to a sitting position. Sean hands him a water bottle and Race cautiously lowers his mask to drink.
“You scared us there for a second,” Sean admits, putting a hand on Race’s not-vaccinated shoulder. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’re not good with needles,” He looks up to the volunteer and the paramedic and waves them off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Race’s face is bright red with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, hiding his face with his hands. “Oh my God, you probably think I’m such an idiot.”
“No,” Sean says simply. “I think you’re dehydrated. And have a very normal, very serious fear of needles. Hang out here with me for a few minutes to make sure you don’t have any other reactions, then you can get on with the rest of your day.”
Race glances at the water bottle in his hands and then back at Sean.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “I really appreciate your help.”
Sean nods, and then kneels next to Race again, handing him a card.
“So when you come back for your second shot, I wanna make sure it’s when I’m workin’. You know...so you’re dealin’ with someone experienced. Shoot me a text.”
Race’s eyes widen as he slips his mask back on and takes the card.
“Oh,” he says in surprise, looking at the phone number hand written on the card, clearly not a business card. “So…” Race lounges back against the cloth wall of the cubicle. “Is this strictly for vaccine related business or could I also text this number if I wanted to ask my new favorite nurse for coffee?”
Sean smiles beneath the mask and Race’s heart skips a beat at the way Sean’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he grins.
“Yeah, you could text about coffee. And if you’re lucky, you might even get a response.”
Race giggles, running a hand through his curls.
“Well, you did sweep me off my feet today, so I’m gonna take my chances with luck.”
Sean reaches a hand down to help Race to stand and grips his arm tight to ensure he’s steady. Race giggles again, and notes the way Sean’s eyes crease with another smile.
“Okay, take care of yourself, Tony. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Race holds up his vaccine card in one hand and the card with Sean’s phone number on it in the other.
“You’ll definitely be hearing from me,” he says, pointing the cards at the nurse. “Have a good day, Nurse Sean.”
Sean shakes his head in amusement. “You too, Mr. Higgins.”
Race rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop smiling as he looks down at the phone number in his hand as he leaves the vaccine site. Even if he did pass out, he has to admit that this was the best experience with needles that he’s ever had.
*
Three weeks come and go way faster than Race expects them to. As it turns out, time flies when you’re having fun, and even while still technically unemployed and mostly isolated, Race has a lot of fun with his three weeks after his first vaccine.
Nurse Sean, it turns out, is even more charming when he’s not injecting a needle into Race’s arm. A quick text to send him his number and let him know that Race got home safely quickly turned into staying up until 3am texting almost every night, which then turned into socially distant coffee dates, which turned into one very tension-filled six-feet-apart picnic in the park as their first official date. Maybe things were moving a little fast, but it turns out despite his crippling fear of needles, Race and Sean (or Spot , as he soon found out his nickname) had more in common than either realized. Hours of facetime and texting and shameless flirting proved that there was definitely more there than a casual post-vaccine fling.
As promised, Race texts Spot on his way to the vaccine site for his second dose. This time, Race has a plan. He’s hydrated, he’s excited to see his....friend? Guy he’s talking to and thinking about nonstop? Hot nurse who he fell asleep on Facetime with last night? Boyfriend ? And more than anything, Race is excited for all this needle business to be over with. No more aching arm, no more talk about vaccines, no more pandemic keeping his career sidelined, just him and the sexy nurse that he’s already planning a future with in his head, avoiding needles for forever.
It’s even faster this time than the first; Race barely has time to mentally prepare himself before he’s sitting in the familiar vaccine site facility, watching as volunteers and nurses bustle around, feeling a wave of nausea hit him as he sees a volunteer hurry past with a tray of vaccines again.
Oh God. Keep it together Race, don’t embarrass yourself more.
“Sir?” A cheery volunteer asks, catching his attention. “We’re ready for you over here.”
“Oh,” Race’s stomach flips with nerves and he feels glued to his seat. “I’m actually waiting for Nurse Conlon, he’s going to meet me.”
“Alrighty then!” The volunteer says, grin clear even from under his mask. “If you need anything, just let me know!”
“Thanks,” Race mumbles, looking at the folder of paperwork in his hands, clutched just a little too tightly. He can do this. He did it before, he can do it again. One and done. You’re almost there. You’re going to get so much fucking ice cream after this.
“There you are,” Race looks up at a familiar voice turning the corner only moments later. “My star patient.”
Race can’t help but smile as Spot stands in front of him, arms crossed, showing off his muscles in his short sleeved scrubs.
“Thank God,” Race says. “The only nurse in this joint who can handle me.”
Spot smirks under his mask and Race can feel it. He offers his hand, which Race takes gratefully, noting the way he squeezes gently as he leads Race to his station. Race can feel himself getting lightheaded, and he reminds himself it’s definitely because he’s about to get a shot and not because he is swooning over Sean Conlon, NP.
“How’s your day so far?” Spot asks casually as he gestures for Race to sit in his station.
“Better, now that I’m seeing you,” Race admits, feeling his nerves drain as the instinctual flirting takes over. “I was going to get sappy and tell you that seeing you is always the highlight of my day, but you already know that.”
“And the feelin’ is mutual, Mr. Higgins,” Spot teases, leaning against the little table in his station, blatantly ignoring inputting any of Race’s information into the computer. “Though your nonstop texts while I’m working very hard saving lives is extremely distracting, not gonna lie.”
Race blushes under his mask, running a hand through his blonde curls. “Me? Distracting? Never.”
Spot meets his eyes and Race feels his chest grow warm. Finally, Spot breaks the eye contact and holds out his hand. Race instinctively takes it and Spot laughs.
“No, your paperwork.”
“Oh,” Race blushes furiously, quickly pulling back his hand and shoving the paperwork into Spot’s hand instead. “Fuck me.”
“Mm,” Spot shrugs, not looking up from the paperwork, signing the vaccinator forms. “Maybe after the CDC recommended two weeks post-second shot.”
Race gapes and doesn’t even register Spot preparing the vaccine until he’s kneeling next to him, dark eyes sparkling.
“You gonna pass out on me again?” Spot teases, and Race shakes his head, eyes holding Spot’s gaze.
“Nope. I’m prepared this time.”
“So you listened when I told you to drink water this morning?”
“That. And I have a present for you.”
“A present?” Spot arches an eyebrow. “Now you have my attention.”
“Shot first,” Race says, pulling a sheet of paper from the folder in his lap, holding it against his chest. He squeezes his eyes closed. “Then present.”
Spot snorts, working quickly but gently ( so gently, damn him. How are his hands so warm?) to wipe down Race’s arm and insert the vaccine before Race can even flinch.
“There,” Spot tells him, squeezing Race’s knee gently. “All done.”
“Great!” Race opens his eyes, internally wincing at the wooziness that immediately sets in as he sees Spot toss out the used syringe. He thrusts the paper at Spot, which he reads quizzically.
“A...negative COVID test?”
“Yep,” Race stands to his feet, already feeling the world sway around him, and grabs Spot by the scrubs, yanking down both of their masks and meeting his lips in a passionate kiss.
Spot makes a noise of protest before he melts into Race’s kiss, hand slipping behind Race’s head, fingers exploring his curls. Race grins as they part, meeting Spot’s eyes with satisfaction.
“I cannot believe you,” Spot laughs, grin contagious.
“Better believe it, baby,” Race manages weakly before his eyes roll back and he slips forward, collapsing into Spot’s arms.
When Race’s eyes open a minute later it’s to Spot sitting next to him in the uncomfortable folding chair, shaking his head and holding out a water bottle.
“Fuck,” Race sighs, taking the water bottle gratefully. “Sorry.”
Spot can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay,” he teases. “I was prepared for you to pass out, but you still managed to surprise me.”
Race gives Spot a weak smile. “Well, Nurse Conlon, you’ll find that I am full of surprises.”
Spot glances around the corner from his station before he leans over, slips down his mask, and presses another kiss to Race’s soft pink lips.
“I like surprises.”
Race grins. “Me too,” he takes another sip of the water bottle and then glares at Spot’s station table. “As long as they don’t involve needles. I fucking hate needles.”
Spot shakes his head in amusement, sliding his hand comfortingly up Race’s knee. “Oh, I’m very aware.”
*