Title: Sports Injuries
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Uther
Summary: A trip to the doctor's office
Warnings: Copious amounts of fluff
Word Count: 481
Author's Notes: Writing fluff is fun!
“Okay, we’re going to take the bandage off and clean the wound, then redress it. How have you felt the past few days? Any fever or nausea?” Merlin put a reassuring hand on the patient’s wrist, looking him in the eyes before proceeding. Mr. Pendragon had been a bit agitated during their last encounter and Merlin wanted to be sure he was calmer this time because he suffered from hypertension. Today his blood pressure was elevated but steady.
“No fever or nausea but these damn stitches itch and trying to keep my right hand dry and relatively still is a lot more of a pain in the arse than I expected.” Mr. Pendragon stopped and blushed. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Merlin responded. “Yeah, palm lacerations are a pain. Eating, typing, washing, using your phone, the bathroom, you name it, you’re screwed.” He grinned. “I’ve forgotten how you did this again. What was it, work place injury?” Merlin hadn’t forgotten. Not even a little bit.
The blushing heightened but was accompanied by a short laugh. “Forgot. Right.” Pendragon’s eyes slid away. His ears were a lovely pink now. Merlin’s grin got wider but he changed his focus back to the dressing, pulling it off gently and examining the seven black stitches binding the healing gash. “The wound is healing nicely. You’ve been using the antibiotic ointment?” Merlin swabbed the wound and redressed it.
“Yes, Doctor,” Mr. Pendragon responded with an eye roll.
“All right, we’re done. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. I’ll see you in a week’s time to take the stitches out. Call if you see any inflammation or feel there’s anything wrong.” Mr. Pendragon was standing, pulling his suit jacket back on as Merlin wrote a few words on his chart.
“You can send your son in now.”
A few minutes later the door opened again. “Hey, Merlin.”
Merlin looked up into his boyfriend’s sheepish eyes, “Hey, you, have a seat so I can get a look at your stitches.” Merlin’s eyes were sparkling with mirth.
“I don’t know why you couldn’t just do this at home,” Arthur grumbled as he dutifully tilted his head forward.
“Insurance,” Merlin answered absently as he removed the dressing and examined the stitches holding together the two inch gash on Arthur’s forehead. The bruising was still livid but the swelling had finally gone down. “These are looking good. You Pendragon men know how to follow instructions.” He swabbed the wound and redressed it, giving Arthur a quick kiss for good measure.
“Now if you and Uther would just learn to be less competitive on the xbox we wouldn’t be in the market for a new flat screen and I wouldn’t need to be worried about a scar on your pretty face.”
“Dad’s having a television delivered on the weekend. This time it was his fault,” Arthur answered.
Merlin smiled and kissed him again.