i ain't got a fever got a permanent disease

[waiting]

WHO: John Watson, Rick Bradbury, Mitchell Hundred
WHERE: The Import Clinic
WHEN: An evening sometime this week.
WARNINGS: Swearing???
SUMMARY: Bradbury's nudged Mitch into getting a checkup, and he's found pretty much the only doctor he trusts to do the job to agree.
FORMAT: Quick!

[ somehow, bradbury's gotten mitch to humor him on this. while he was hardly expecting to expect mitch to walk out of the clinic like he'd got news of ball cancer or something, he felt a little trepidation about the whole thing anyway. he knew how mitch could be, when he was pissy, and it occurred to him maybe he should have warned john more about that.

still, here they were, after hours at the import clinic, bradbury barely managing to check the urge to steer mitch in. ]

Be nice. [ he reminded the mayor, before he held the door open for him to walk through. ] I'm not gonna be there to stop him if he decides to deck you.

[ though he might not even stop him if he was there, come to think of it. confirming their appointment at the reception was easy enough, and its just a matter of waiting around for john to show up and take mitch off his hands. ]

Comments

[viced]

[ He released a soft sigh. He didn't want to, but--

Well, he did it anyway. ]

If the bare minimum, really. I have no delusions that I'm anything but a sedentary shithead.

[acclimatized]

Well, at least you're honest about it. [ john deadpans without looking at him, wrapping trhe cuff around his upper arm while mitch is actually complying. ]

You probably know this already, but this is going to get quite tight.

[viced]

No, I've never been to a doctor in my life. [ He offered it with no extra emotion, equally as flat. ]

Go for it.

[ He offered his arm, after he'd pulled up his sleeve, but he'd only pulled up the shirt a scant inch or two above his elbow, and no higher. ]

[acclimatized]

Understandable. I'd hate to be your GP. [ john isn't going to test his luck by asking mitch to roll it up further. he can predict the real struggle will come when it's time to get him on the scales.

once he fastens the cuff, the device tightens uncomfortably around his arm while it pumps and he checks the reading. ]

116, 79... pretty good, considering the kind of career you've got.

[viced]

[ He winces slightly, more from the tightness, but nods. ]

I keep telling you people, I'm fine. Just because a guy likes being stressed doesn't mean he's dying.

[ It's half-muttered, not necessarily for John, but rueful all the same. ]

Believe me, I give my GP plenty of shit to hate me about.

[acclimatized]

I'll save you the lecture about the cons outweighing the benefits of stress, since I'm pretty sure Rick must've taken you through them already. [ he scribbles down his blood pressure and removes the cuff from his arm none too gently; the satisfying rip of velcro is like music to his ears. ]

Mmm? Did you say something?

[viced]

[ He winced. ]

Nothing. So what's next, Doctor Watson?

[ A little giddy thrill at that. It was still forever present, the childlike excitement at seeing and meeting people from fiction -- even if they didn't really like him. ]

[acclimatized]

[ that earns mitch a head tilt and a curious look. q did the same thing to him a little while back. ]

... Cholesterol test. Then we can wrap up everything after checking your weight and seeing if you're at the risk of developing diabetes.

[ a pause. ]

Then, if you feel so inclined, you can tell me about any health problems you might've had lately. Gotta be a good reason Rick asked me to do this, right?

[viced]

Oh great, checking my weight. [ A little dry, but it was still there. Although he frowned, a leg kicking idly out from his seat. ]

You've fucking got me. The last time I had a health problem was when I hit my head. Over a year ago. [ When he'd had amnesia, and had absconded to a pot farm, but nobody knew about that particular detail, except for a few, very few individuals. ]

Wait, is the cholesterol test a blood test?

[acclimatized]

[ when mitch starts to give him attitude, john rolls his eyes and turns away to prepare for the next test. it can't prevent him from sighing out loud while the mayor curses in the background. ]

Yeah, I'll need to take a bit of blood from your finger. Just a little prick.

[viced]

Ah, I see.

[ He held out a finger, eyeing the devices with a cautious eye. Mitch's blood tests had always been a little wonky, the machinery and electricity running through a portion of his face, neck, and side a bit much for even his blood chemistry to show up normal. They never released his blood samples, when he'd been in his home. ]

Just to be clear, this data gets deleted and burned, afterward. The blood sample destroyed too.

[ He remembered the man who'd ate plants fertilized with his blood. He'd thought him insane, as did everyone else, but they'd told him red was a color of their spectrum.

He was forever cautious. ]

[acclimatized]

Fair enough? It's not like I'm going to post all this on Rumblr or that weird gossip magazine. [ aside from the patient confidentiality aspect, john understands. vaguely. in a world where comic book superheroes live down the hall from you, you begin to accept the oddities of requests.

at least, that's the way john is beginning to view this the city. he takes the blood sample and begins comparing the results of his earlier test. ]

I'll use the lab downstairs before I get home.

[waiting]

[ in the meantime, in the waiting room, bradbury was bored out of his mind.

it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, if even that, since mitch and john disappeared into one of the examining rooms, but there's nothing to do but perch himself awkwardly on one of the benches in the waiting area and stew, foot jigging nervously against the floor. god, he was used to waiting as part of his job, but this?

maybe if he wasn't so worried about mitch opening his mouth and saying something to piss john off, he'd be coping with the whole thing better. as it was, he was flipping through the magazines laid out in a desperate bid to find something else to occupy his brain. ]

LMFAO GOD KYTHA I DIDN'T CHECK MY EMAIL BEFORE I POSTED

[viced]

I didn't have any thought that you would. [ But his blood was--

Well, Mitchell was just a touch paranoid, and with good reason. Suspicion and caution were the name of the game when it came to being a politician with superpowers. (Who also often indulged in a particular illegal substance.) ]

I'd prefer if you get it started while I'm here. Look, I know it sounds fucked up, and it's not that I don't trust you, but I don't really know you.

[acclimatized]

No, you just make sweeping generalizations about people without getting to know them first. [ way to stay professional, john. ]

Fine, I can do that. Just hold on a minute.

[viced]

Great, thanks.

[ He didn't even comment on it. He could fight it, sure. He'd been drunk, and almost thought he'd been about to go through a car accident.

Sherlock hadn't helped, either--

But he didn't have anything to prove to John, so he just nodded, and waited for him to leave, closing his eyes, and listening for the hum of a machine being activated. He needed to hear, and listen. If Dr. Watson did any tests that would look for anything other than cholesterol, he needed to know. ]

[acclimatized]

[ john left the room without another word, closing the door behind him with a soft click. as he passed bradbury in the waiting room, he shot him a look and continued walking toward the elevator, but called over his shoulder. ]

Don't let him leave.

[waiting]

Huh? [ bradbury blinked, looking up from where he'd finally resorted to scribbling into the margins of the children's magazine he'd picked up to stave off boredom. that hadn't been that long. tucking the magazine under his arm absentmindedly, he stepped over to the door of the examination room, pulling it open so he could poke his head in at mitchell. ]

Has he stuck a thermometer up your ass yet?

[ you're thinking of vets, bradbury. ]

[viced]

[ Mitch didn't really react, for a few moments, his hands on his knees, eyes closed, like he was indulging in the rare moment of TM, and thankfully, his bed was on the side that meant the mass of circuits on his face, gently glowing, but it dimmed when he opened his eyes. ]

I'm pretty sure I'm not a fucking dog, Bradbury. What, did he send you in here to make sure I don't escape?

[ Resigned. He still listened, communicating on autopilot. ]

[waiting]

Like your fat ass could even fit through the window. [ The response was automatic, but though he stepped in and closed the door behind him, Bradbury didn't step any further into the room.

He'd never been a fan of hospitals, and he didn't think Mitch had much reason to be either. Not after the accident, anyway. ]

What'd you do to scare him off, take off your pants?

[viced]

He needed to do a blood test.

[ If Mitchell sounded a little mocking, his head tipping with his words, well, he wasn't so happy about it. ]

I told him to run the tests now rather than later.

[ He was still listening, waiting. Making sure Dr. Watson would only run one test, and one test only.

He didn't need him poking around in his blood. ]

[waiting]

You know that just means you're gonna be stuck here longer, right?

[ if bradbury looked unimpressed? that's because he was. but it was a bit rich of him to be asking mitch to trust the guy when he refused to trust someone else just because mitch asked him to, so he didn't. ]

[viced]

I had a feeling, yeah.

[ Mitchell would sacrifice his work, if it were important enough. This was one of those moments when he needed to. He didn't trust the doctor because this was bigger than him. This was the kind of thing he would never trust Edward with, let alone anyone else. Some secrets needed to be kept close. ]

[waiting]

[ he grunted, shaking his head and leaning back against the wall. ]

The hell are you expecting him to find, anyway?

[viced]

Fuck if I know, honestly.

[ He lifted a shoulder, casually. It wasn't like he was going to say that he worried about the THC that swam in his blood. ]

But I figure the NSA kept my records sealed for a reason.