Work Text:
It had been a mostly uneventful evening. Quiet. And Doctor Sung was working at his desk when he heard a light knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said as he spun his chair around to face the door. Phobos stepped into his room, and Sung couldn’t see his expression, but he could tell something wasn’t quite right. “Phobos? Everything alright?”
Meouch, the man signed, He’s being stubborn.
“Stubborn?”
Won’t admit that he’s sick.
Sung just scoffed, a dismissive laugh as he turned back to his desk. “The Commander doesn’t get sick.”
That’s--
Realizing Sung was no longer looking at him, and now slightly more irritated, Phobos knocked on the door again to get him to turn around.
That’s what he wants us to think. He’s a liar. Stubborn liar.
Sung let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Okay, alright. Where is he?”
They found the Commander out on the front porch, leaning against the house with a cigarette in his mouth. He was very obviously shivering, and his face was flushed a soft red. He jumped at the presence of Doctor Sung, but quickly returned to his casual lean in an attempt to look natural.
“Uh… hey, Doc. Sup?”
Sung rolled his eyes. “A bit chilly tonight, hm, Commander?”
Meouch’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned, turning away from the doctor. “I dunno what you’re talkin about.” He put the cigarette to his lips and was about to take a drag when the cigarette suddenly disappeared from his hand.
Sung held it disdainfully between his thumb and forefinger before flicking it to the ground and stepping on it.
“What the fuck du-” Sung held up a hand, interrupting him.
“You’re clearly sick, Commander. Smoking is not going to help that situation in the slightest. Please get some rest.”
“I’m not sick,” Meouch snapped, causing him to break out in a painful-sounding coughing fit. Sung and Phobos shared a glance. Meouch glowered, wiping his nose. “I’m not!”
“Uh huh.” Sung nodded. “Sure. I’ll be the judge of that.”
Before Meouch could process what was going on, there were arms around his torso and he was being thrown over Sung’s shoulder.
“Wh-- hey, what the fuck, man?!” Meouch cried, flailing uselessly in the man’s hold. “Put me down!”
“No. If you’re really not sick, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He turned around. “Phobos. The door, please?”
As Phobos opened the door for Sung to step through, Meouch continued to struggle against his grip. “No, I don’t want you pokin’ at me again! Let me down!”
“What do you mean, again? You never let me check you over!”
“Not after the first time!” Meouch called back, pounding his fists on Sung’s back. He froze, however, when he saw them pass by his room. “Hey, wh… where are we going?” He craned his neck in an attempt to look ahead of them. “No, fuck you, you’re not takin’ me down to the murder basement.” No response. He gave Sung another punch in the spine. “I’m not sick!”
“That’s for me to judge, Commander,” Sung said as he pushed the door to the aforementioned murder basement open. “And the more you struggle, the more difficult this process will be.” With that, Sung carried the struggling Commander down into the darkness, Phobos trailing close behind.
Once reaching the basement, Sung reached for the light switch. It clicked, but the lights remained off. Sung frowned. “That’s odd.”
Meanwhile, Meouch was practically begging to be let down. “It’s a fuckin omen, man. Let me down before we die.”
Sung raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “What are you so afraid of? It’s just an empty basement. There’s nothing down here except for u-”
A loud scraping sound interrupted Sung, who in turn let out a pained shriek. Meouch, in a terrified, mad scramble to escape from Sung’s grasp, had dug his claws into Sung’s back like a startled cat, landing on the floor with a crash. Sung dropped to his knees, gripping his shoulder.
Two red beams of light flickered to life from across the room and Sung sighed.
“Havve…” Sung grunted, reaching over his shoulder to assess the extent of the damage. He winced as he touched blood. “What are you doing down here by yourself in the dark?”
“THE COMMANDER HAS BEEN SNIFFLING EXCESSIVELY ALL DAY, AND IT WAS GETTING ON MY NERVES.” The red lights rose as Havve stood and slowly bobbed their way over to the trio. “I CAME DOWN HERE FOR AN ATTEMPT AT FINDING SOLITUDE, ALTHOUGH I NOW SEE THERE IS TRULY NO PEACE IN THIS BLOODY HOUSE.”
“And why aren’t the lights working?”
“THE FUSE MUST HAVE BLOWN. IT WAS NOT MY DOING I ASSURE YOU.”
Sung let out a long, exasperated sigh before he spoke again. “Phobos, will you please… check the fuse box?” he asked. “And Havve, it would be very helpful if you would restrain the Commander while we get everything back in order.”
“Wait, wh-- what?”
Sung heard some shuffling, some struggling, and a few annoyed grunts before things went silent again. Seconds later, the lights flickered on, and he caught sight of Havve holding Meouch by the scruff of his neck.
“Okay,” the doctor said as he stood carefully. “Give me a moment, I’m going to… patch up my shoulder real quick, and then I will tend to you, Commander.”
The Commander in question was kind of out of commission at that point, what with the scruffing and all, so he didn’t respond.
“Wonderful. Phobos, could you come over and help me with this for a moment?”
With a bit of instruction, Phobos was able to clean out the claw marks in Sung’s skin and carefully cover them up with band-aids. Once Sung had his suit pulled back up and had gotten over the initial pain of the injury, he turned back to face the others.
“Alright, Havve. You can bring him over.”
Once Meouch was dumped unceremoniously on his worktable, Havve immediately took his leave. Meouch was still a little out of it, but with a few shakes of his head, he was lucid again.
“Hey, wh… what the fuck just happened?” he asked.
“Havve scruffed you,” Sung replied as he started fishing through his cabinets. “I forgot how well that works, to be honest.”
Embarrassed and even more irritated than before, Meouch made a face and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuckin’... I told you guys to stop doin’ that. S’not cool.”
“Well, neither is lying to your best friends about your health,” Sung pointed out. “So what are your symptoms?”
“I told you, I’m not fuckin si-” Meouch was interrupted by another coughing fit, covering his mouth with both hands.
Sung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner we get this over with. Please, you’ve dragged this on long enough.”
“Alright cranky-pants, calm down.” Meouch leaned back onto his hands, staring up at the ceiling as he rattled off the symptoms. “Coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat… y’know, just common stuff.”
“That just sounds like a cold, truthfully. We’ve got some cough syrup and ibuprofen for the pain but other than that you’ll just have to ride it out until you start feeling better.” Sung frowned. “Are you positive those are all of your symptoms?”
“Uhh…” Meouch paused, thinking. “I dunno. I’m really fuckin’ cold right now so I might have like a fever or something?”
Sung froze, staring at Meouch with wide eyes. “A… a fever?”
Meouch looked at him blankly. “Yes. A fever. But I already told you, I’m fine. I’ll just take some Nyquil and call it a day alright?”
“Right…” Sung shuffled his feet, suddenly seeming anxious. “Yes you should certainly get some rest. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” And with that, the doctor hastily turned and scrambled up the basement stairs.
Phobos and Meouch exchanged concerned glances. “What the hell was that all about?” Meouch asked. Phobos shrugged.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Sung was frantically searching through his experimental equipment and tools. Various vials filled with alien liquid, some glowing and others made of substance not of this Earth. Finally he found them - a glass case, hidden behind a stack of books in the closet, containing only a sealed petri dish with some faintly glowing orange microbes. Only the petri dish was no longer sealed. A hairline fracture had punctured the dish, releasing the glowing microbes into the class case and quite possibly into the air.
Meanwhile, in the basement, Meouch was hopping down from the worktable. “It’s not just me, right?” he asked Phobos, “He just got real weird all of a sudden?”
Seemed eager to return to his work, Phobos signed in response, You know how he is about that.
“Yeah, I dunno, maybe he’s just… caught up in something.”
As if on cue, the man in question came rushing back down the stairs, carrying a blanket in his arms. “Commander, if you would, sit back down, please?” he asked, slightly out of breath. He calmed down rather quickly, acting as if nothing was truly wrong.
“What?” Meouch asked, “I thought--” He cut himself off with a sneeze before he continued, “I... thought you said I just needed some rest, Doc.”
Sung nodded as he set the blanket down on the table and began once again fumbling through the messy cabinets that were built into the wall. “Yes, but… well, you don’t get sick very often, do you?” he asked. Where the fuck was it? “None of us do. So I just want to be sure it’s… nothing to be alarmed about.” He let out a soft ah! as he pulled a brown leather bag from the cabinet.
“It’s a cold, man,” Meouch replied, “You said it yourself. Humans get them all the time, I prob’ly just picked somethin’ up at our show the other night.”
“Possibly, but you’re not human.” Sung placed the bag down next to Meouch. “So we have no way of knowing what it’s going to do to your body.” He fished out what appeared to be an electronic thermometer, removed the cap, fumbled around with the buttons for a moment, then held it up towards Meouch. “Open.”
The Commander complied, albeit reluctantly, and took the opportunity to wrap the blanket around himself. However, he couldn’t resist speaking up, despite the way the thermometer muffled his voice. “You know I’m, like, immortal, right--”
Sung shushed him. “Immortal doesn’t mean indestructible. You should know that by now, Commander.“
Meouch rolled his eyes just before the thermometer beeped and Sung snatched it from his mouth. The man seemed startled for just a moment before he returned to his calm composure.
“What is it?” Meouch asked.
“Nothing, nothing, it’s all good,” Sung said as he wiped the thermometer off and tucked it back away. “Nothing to worry about, just… uh. completely unrelated, have you… been in my room at all? Like, recently?”
Meouch visibly tensed, although he was still shivering. “Uh… no.”
Sung crossed his arms. “Really.”
“Yeah, Doc, really.” Meouch said, very clearly avoiding eye contact.
“You’re sure,” the doctor said. “Not even for a minute?”
Meouch groaned. “C’mon, what’s this gotta do with anything?”
“Look at me for a sec?”
“What--” Meouch jerked his head up to look into Sung’s eyes, and instantly felt the mind-numbing effects of his gaze.
“Meouch,” Sung spoke calmly, “When was the last time you were in my room?”
“Few... days ago,” Meouch mumbled, then quickly shook his head and looked away. “Wh-- come on, man, what the fuck?!”
“What the hell were you doing in my room while I wasn’t there?” Sung asked.
“You fuckin’... I lost my lighter, okay?” Meouch said with an exasperated sigh. “And I thought you might’ve taken it, since you seem to be the poster boy for anti-smoking lately.”
“It’s a terrible habit.” Sung shook his head. “But that isn’t important right now. What happened when you were in my room?”
“Nothing, doc, honest.” Meouch still refused to make eye contact.
Sung’s eyes narrowed. “Commander, I don’t want to take this information by force but I will if necessary.”
“Okay! Okay, fine! I was looking in your closet for my lighter and I accidentally knocked over this little…” Meouch paused, making circular motions with his fingers. “I don’t know. It was glass and there was this kinda dull orange stuff inside. But I just barely nudged it and the whole thing fell over and then the orange stuff started glowing so I figured it was time to leave.”
Sung groaned and ran a hand down the side of his face. The Commander was as graceful as a bull in a china shop, it was only to be expected he would have broken something. “And you didn’t think, even for a moment, that you should have told someone about this? That you should have told me?”
Meouch was fidgeting uncomfortably now. “Yeah but… I knew you’d be mad! And it was so small I didn’t think it was important.”
“Well it was important. Very, very important.” Sung sighed again, running a hand over his forehead as he thought aloud. “I’m immune to it, fortunately enough. Havve being almost entirely robotic means he can’t contract it and Phobos’s helmet should protect him as long as he keeps it on while he’s around you…”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Meouch snapped. “What the fuck was in that case?”
“It was uh… well, a little something I cooked up ages ago just to… well just to see if I could really.”
“That doesn’t answer anything,” Meouch snapped impatiently. “Just spit it out.”
“It’s a virus, Meouch,” said Sung seriously. “A deadly virus of my own design with no cure and you seem to have been infected with it. Come down with the sickness, so to speak.”
Meouch let out a low growl. “That’s not fucking funny.”
“No, no it’s not. It’s really quite serious.” Despite his tone, Sung was attempting to hide a smile.
“So why are you laughing? Am I dying or not?”
“Oh no, not dying. The virus hasn’t advanced enough to kill you quite yet. Your body temperature would have to be much lower for that to happen,” Sung said evenly. “However I will have to make you an antidote, and given I don’t know exactly how this virus will affect your species, it may take a while.”
“So what are you waiting for! Are you just gonna let me die!?” Meouch had switched quickly from anger to panic, grabbing the doctor by his arm and giving him a shake.
“Please calm yourself, Commander. There’s nothing you can do now except rest. Excitement will only speed up the virus’s process.” Sung held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Meouch nodded weakly, letting Sung guide him up the stairs and into his bedroom. “I don’t wanna die, Doc,” he whimpered
“You’ll be fine, Commander. You’re in good hands. Don’t you trust me?” Sung laid him down gently on the bed and turned to leave. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.”
Out in the hallway, Phobos had been watching the entire exchange. He was certain Sung had finally lost it, the way he’d been nearly laughing down in the basement as he told Meouch of his deadly predicament. As Sung stepped out of the room and closed the door, Phobos took a deep breath and approached him.
He’s not really going to die, is he?
Sung shook his head, motioning Phobos away from the door. Once they were a sufficient distance away, Sung spoke. “Of course not. There is a deadly space virus out there, but all of us are essentially immune. The virus plaguing the Commander is nothing more than a common space flu.”
Phobos looked at him, stunned. Then why did you lie?
“To keep him out of my fucking room.”