Harry was too close like this, working in McDonald’s sick bay. He lost hold on himself in the heady throes of simple conversation. “I wish you’d call me Harry,” he said, hearing the pleading in his own voice.
Harry knew as he said it, that he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t that McDonald would take offense, or dismiss or even deride him for it, as Stanley would have done. No, it was because McDonald would not understand the plea for what it was. Even if he offered the use of his name in return— Alexander— it would not mean for him what it meant for Harry. It would not mean I want to know you more than anyone I’ve ever met. I want to hear you say my name because I think I’ve been waiting for it my whole life. If I hear it in your voice then I will know I am real on this ship that’s so lost even the sea can’t find us.
Rated T
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/38359051
Written for the Hurt/Comfort Exchange, for The Terror: Dr. Harry Goodsir/Dr. Alexander McDonald (hurt McDonald)
What if Harry had the chance to save the life of the man he loves?
~Rated M~
CW: Canon homophobia, suicide, fire, injury, blood, medical procedures & surgery
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timeasmymeasure
