Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 7: Rescue

Your voice cracks at the end, and for some inexplicable reason, you grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a rag doll, half-crazed with exhaustion.

Galen recoils slightly, raising his hands in surrender, his eyes soft with pity. "Jesus... that must have been brutal. Seriously, let me know if you need someone to cover your next shift, okay?"

You grin at him, ragged but genuine. "Ah, Galen, my office bestie... what would I do without you to spill all the hot gossip and have my back?"

He smirks. "Probably too busy dispatching heroes like a damn pro... and racking up HR violations on the side?"

"Awh, dude, shut the fuck up," you groan, but a tired, broken laugh escapes anyway. For a moment, the two of you dissolve into giggles like sleep-deprived school kids, the kind of delirious laughter that leaves your chest lighter and your exhaustion just barely bearable, reminding you that you're still human after all.

As you stagger to your feet, nearly tripping over your own feet, Galen reaches out and steadies you, his expression softening. "Go hit the showers and rest a bit, bro, or you're going to kiss the floor by the end of morning shift."

You manage a tired nod, muttering a thank you, and drag yourself to the lockers. When you open yours, a small moment of relief hits you: spare clothes, an office shirt, even shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Thank you, past me.

The shower is a blur of warm water and brief sanity. You step out, feeling cleaner if not any less exhausted, and dress in fresh clothes that cling comfortably.

When you return to your desk, Evan and Chase are there. Their eyes nearly pop out.

"Fuck me, you look like you died and crawled out of a well," Chase says bluntly, gesturing at your hair, still damp, your slouched posture, the way your eyelids fight gravity.

Evan hovers beside you, pink glow faintly emanating from his skin in concern. "Are you... okay?"

"She's been working nonstop! Downtown incident last night, remember?" Galen calls from across the room, giving you a thumbs-up.

Both Evan and Chase soften at the news. "Just head home, kid," Chase says, his usual sarcastic tone tempered by genuine worry. "You look like you're about to drop dead, and I don't wanna to be sitting diagonally across from a corpse, no offence."

You let out a tired laugh, though it is barely more than a wheeze. "Imma goo-... justa needs to finish some final stuff..." You slur, eyelids drooping.

Half an hour later, you are slumped over your keyboard, typing blindly and occasionally muttering words that make no sense. Before long, exhaustion wins entirely, and you are asleep, head resting on your arms, a small trail of drool glinting in the office light.

Evan, unable to resist, pulls out his phone and quietly snaps a picture.

"Quit being a fucking creep, kid," Chase mutters, staring at him with a bored expression as his head peaks out from his cubicle.

"What the-Gramps! How long were you watching me?!" Evan panics, flailing slightly.

"The whole damn thing," Chase deadpans, settling back in his chair with a smirk.

"Why don't ya just fucking just tell her you like her?"

"I... I can't. Look at her... she's got so much on her plate, half the time she barely has time for herself," Evan murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your face with a careful hand. The faint glow of his skin intensifies slightly as he continues, voice dropping to something softer. "I don't want to scare her away. She's... fragile in her own way, and I'm happy where I am now. Being her friend, supporting her..."