Chapter Text
There was nothing romantic or sexy about post-surgery care.
Etho couldn't remember who it was—probably Bdubs—that read some cute, romantic story about someone nursing their partner back to health after some life-saving surgery.
Maybe it was because he and Doc weren't actually dating, but "cute" and "romantic" couldn't be further from the truth.
Not Being Homeless Planning:
Beef: i brought doc home
Bdubs: how is he?
Beef: out of it
Bdubs: level of 1 to etho after his wisdom teeth renoval
Beef: a solid 13
Bdubs: wow
Etho: is he okay
Etho: what happened
Beef: "i'm tired but i don't want to nap because i'm too tired for a nap but it's too early to go to bed so i can't sleep"
Bdubs: huh
Beef: that's what i said!
Etho: my lecture ends in 2 hours
Bdubs: i have work tn but ill be back for a little bit
Bdubs: i can also pick up dinner for us later
Etho: yes please
Beef: ty
Etho kicked off his shoes and ventured into the kitchen. Beef was at the kitchen table, lazily looking through the print newspaper like the elderly man he was.
"How's Doc doing?"
"Well," Beef set down the paper. "I finally got him to take his meds."
"What do you mean?"
"He wouldn't take his meds because 'his throat hurt too much.'"
"Didn't I also—"
Beef answered with the sigh of a tired mother, "Yes, you did."
He couldn't help but chuckle. Maybe he'd feel a bit bad if Beef hadn't volunteered to take Doc to get his wisdom teeth out; especially after experiencing him getting his wisdom teeth out a few years prior.
"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You're the one who has to share a bed with him."
"Is he asleep?"
Beef shrugged. "He wasn't when I checked on him a bit ago."
"Need me to do any—?"
"Try to get him to eat something."
He agreed because how hard could that be? He didn't remember too much after getting his wisdom teeth pulled, but Beef said he had kept whining because he wasn't allowed to eat anything good.
Etho slowly pushed the door open. He couldn't tell if Doc was awake or not, so he slipped in and quietly set his backpack down beside the door.
"Etho?"
"Yeah?"
"Hello."
"Hi." He sat on the edge of the bed. "How're you feeling?"
"I want to sit up."
"Can you not?"
Doc shut his eyes with a mumble.
"Do you want me to help you?"
"But Beef said I can't."
"You can't sit up fast , but you can sit up."
Doc didn't look convinced.
"Here, I'll help you slowly, and we won't tell Beef."
"Okay."
He helped Doc slowly sit up, wedging a pillow between him and the headboard. Doc seemed in much better spirits now that he was sitting up. He was most definitely high out of his mind, but every time he looked over at Etho, he gave a smile—slightly delayed as though he was a bit surprised that Etho was there.
It didn't take long for him to become talkative. He rambled, occasionally coherently, about everything that came to mind. Etho tried to respond a few times, but that only seemed to confuse Doc, so he just nodded and hummed when appropriate.
He remembered he was supposed to get Doc to eat something. He glanced at the nightstand and noticed a piece of paper. Bdubs must have taken the aftercare sheet and made a cute little menu out of Doc’s options for food.
"So then—" Doc's vocalised train of thought abruptly stopped when he saw the paper in Etho's hand. "What's that?"
"Menu." He handed it over. "It's what you can eat."
"Hm…"
"Take your time."
As Doc poured over the little menu, Etho fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened up a game before realising that it might distract Doc. He settled for going through his emails instead; at least he could say he was being productive.
"I know what I want."
He set his phone down. "Mhm?"
Doc pressed something in his hand before whispering in his ear, “I’d like a coke.”
Etho stared down at the nickel in his hand. “What?”
“A coca-cola, please.”
“You can’t have any pop right now.”
Doc nodded and dug through his pocket before pressing two more coins into his hand and murmuring about inflation.
When Etho thought he couldn’t be more baffled, he stared at the pennies in his hand. “Dude, we don’t even have pennies anymore. Where did you get these?”
Doc said something incoherent with a shrug, eyes falling shut.
"Doc."
"Shh…"
He heard the front door slam shut, followed by a meek but unapologetic "sorry!"
At least it got Doc to open his eyes again.
Bdubs stepped into the room a moment later. "Beef wants to know if you've had any luck getting him to eat."
"Kinda?" he admitted.
“Did he say what he wants?”
“No, but he tried to give me a nickel for a pop like it’s the 1950s.”
“‘S 1962,” Doc argued.
Etho chuckled but stopped when he looked at Doc’s completely serious—and incredibly swollen—face. “Oh my god, you’re not joking.”
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s not 1962.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Uh…” Bdubs looked worried. “Should we be worried?”
“I don’t know. Ask Beef if the doctor said anything about that.”
Bdubs nodded and stepped out of the room.
Doc leaned closer and whispered, “Why are we worried about Beef?”
“We aren’t.” He handed Doc the menu again. “What do you want to eat?”
“Can I have a coke with it?”
“No.”
“But I have a nickel—” Doc patted his pockets. “Oh, I ran out of nickels.”
“Okay, so no coke. Choose something on the menu.”
Doc nodded and studied the menu for a while before setting it down. “Almond butter and jelly sandwich, please.”
“...What?”
“It’s my favourite.“
“No, it’s— you can’t have that. It’s not even on the list!”
“But we have them all the time,” Doc insisted.
“You hate jelly—”
“I have it every morning.”
“—And you’ve never even had almond butter!”
The door opened again, and Beef stepped in. “What’s going on?”
“I think Etho is sick.”
“You think I’m sick?”
Doc gently squeezed his hand before explaining to Beef in a genuinely concerned tone, “He doesn’t know what year it is, and he forgot our favourite food.”
“1962?”
Doc nodded.
“What’s your favourite food again?”
“Almond butter and jelly sandwich.”
Beef hummed. “Well, we’re out of jelly, so how about some yoghurt?”
Doc turned to him again. “Yoghurt?”
“Sure.”
“Yoghurt, please.”
As soon as Beef shut the door behind him, Etho heard him say something to Bdubs before they started laughing.
Doc muttered something about a nap before flopping down, still holding his hand in a death grip. When he couldn't get Doc—somehow already dead asleep—to let go, he resigned himself to his fate and turned his phone on with his other hand.
Not Being Homeless Planning:
Beef: yeah hes fine
Beef: bdubs is crying in the kitchen
Etho: he thinks im sick
Beef: yeah hes been this loopy since he woke up
Beef: and they gave him some pain meds before he left too so
Etho: hes on my pillow
Beef: lmao is he asleep?
Etho: yeah
Etho: he wont let go of my hand
Bdubs: aww
Etho: debatable
Beef: lmk when he wakes up and ill get you two your yogourt
Etho: i dont like yogourt
Beef: hes not gonna eat if you dont so sucks to be you
Etho texted Beef when Doc woke up again. He was much quieter now—almost concerningly so—but he nodded every time Etho asked if he was feeling alright. Etho figured he probably wasn't going to get any sort of answer.
"I want…" Doc began before immediately trailing off.
"Want what?"
"Mario."
"What?"
"I want to play Mario Kart."
"I don't think you should get up right now."
"But I can play."
"Remember what Beef said?"
Doc sighed but nodded, deterred by the prospects of Mother Beef's wrath.
"How about we play tomorrow?"
"Promise?"
He held his pinky finger out. "Pinky promise."
Doc frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"That's not a legal promise."
"What? Do you want me to draft up a contract?" he joked.
"Yes."
He did bring that one upon himself, so he got up to grab his notebook and a pen out of his backpack. He sat back down and read aloud as he wrote: "I, Etho, promise—"
"Full name."
He rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page, rewriting the contract again. "—promise to play Mario Kart with… Legal name or just Doc?"
"It is a legal contract."
"Fine, full name then," he muttered, writing it out.
Doc glanced at the paper. "Umlaut."
"What?"
"Dots above the 'o.' You have to spell my name correctly. It's a legal document."
Etho added the umlaut. "Better?"
"Yes."
"—Tomorrow, the 12th of November. We will play… at least 3 full games of 4 races, following the courses designated by the preset cups. All settings will be set to the default. The race speed, players, and karts will be determined… uh, not at the current moment of writing, but at the beginning of the game. By signing this contract, I understand and acknowledge that this legal document is binding and can be used in a court of law."
Doc hummed in approval.
He drew a line at the bottom of the page and signed his name. He tore the page out of the notebook and set it on the nightstand. "There, so we'll both remember."
"Thank you."
Doc went concerningly quiet after that and wouldn't respond with more than a nod when Etho asked if he was feeling alright. He did seem content to watch Etho play some random game on his phone though.
A while later, Beef finally came in with a tray. "Alright, I've got your guys' yoghurt."
Etho took the tray from him. "Thanks."
"Thank you," Doc muttered.
"You feeling alright, man?"
"Hurts."
Beef picked up one of the small cups from the tray and held it out. "Pain meds."
Doc shook his head.
"Come on, it's time for you to take them."
"Throat hurts."
Beef nodded. "And that'll help."
"Can't take them."
"Why?"
"Because my throat hurts."
Beef gave Etho a familiar look: I'm going to strangle this man. He had apparently planned for that response though because he sat at the end of the bed and looked at Doc. "I know you don't want to take them, but you have to—"
"No. Throat hurts," Doc repeated.
"Okay…" Beef sighed. "Well, I need you to do me a favour."
Doc nodded, clearly more receptive to whatever favour Beef was about to request.
Beef leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly in a faux whisper. "Etho needs to take his meds, and he needs to eat with them, but he doesn't want to."
"Mhm…"
"But I think he'll take them if you do," Beef explained. "So I need you to eat some of your yoghurt and take your meds so he will."
Etho fought the urge to roll his eyes at Beef's stupid plan—
"Okay," Doc agreed.
"Thanks, dude. I knew I could count on you." Beef got up and winked at Etho with a shit-eating grin before leaving.
He and Doc ate their yoghurt quietly. At least Doc seemed to be enjoying the yoghurt more than he was. It was nasty, and the grossness of the yoghurt was not helped by the fact that he was eating slowly to match Doc's pace. It meant Doc was eating though, so he could suffer through it.
Doc was not very subtle about checking how far Etho was with his yoghurt. As soon as he finished, Doc set his own empty yoghurt container down. Etho gave Doc his meds and took the cup Beef had made for him. He was glad to see that Beef wasn't trying to drug him and had just given him multivitamins.
"I am going to take my medications now," Doc announced before swallowing his pills.
"I'll take mine too then." He took the vitamins and finished his water before setting aside the tray. "Done with yours?"
Doc nodded and handed him the empty glass, eyes already drooping again.
"I think I'm getting tired," Etho lied.
"Mmm…" Doc lied down before staring at Etho expectedly.
He didn't think that lie through as well as Beef had, so he once again resigned himself to his fate and lied down.
The next time he woke up, Doc was snoring in his ear. He sat up and noticed Doc had once again ended up partially on his pillow again. Though this time, he had managed to get blood drool all over it. In an even greater feat, he had gotten no blood drool on his own pillow.
He nudged Doc back onto his own pillow before pulling the pillowcase off. He snuck out of the room, threw the pillowcase in the wash, and grabbed a new one from the closet. He nearly got it on his pillow too without waking Doc up.
"Etho?"
Nearly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?" Doc asked.
"Yeah. Are you?"
"Tired."
"You can go back to sleep."
"Did something happen?"
"Nah."
"Why did you leave?"
"Just went to the bathroom." There was no point in making Doc feel guilty or embarrassed about something out of his control. "I gotta work on some homework though."
"Oh."
"I'll still be in the room."
That seemed to appease Doc because he shut his eyes again. "Okay."
Etho got his laptop out of his backpack and sat at his desk. As his laptop booted up, he heard Doc shift around.
Doc called his name again. "Etho?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're my friend."
"I'm glad you're my friend too."
"Okay, good night, friend."
"Good night."