Work Text:
“No, see, I can’t just stick a pin in the book or whatever,” said Marty. “It’s gotta be something cool.”
“Oh, yes?” said Emmett, his eyes on the road.
“And it’s gotta be something that sounds good with my first name,” Marty went on, gesticulating ponderously as he considered. “And, see, lately I’m thinking maybe I shouldn’t use the phone book. Y’know? What if I meet the person whose last name I took?”
“There’s a lot of people in town – just try not to pick anything too distinctive,” said Emmett vaguely, watching out for their turning. “If you want, I can take you to the library, after – ah, well.” He trailed off and cleared his throat.
“Sure,” said Marty, not seeming to notice the slip.
They slowed to a stop at the intersection. “You know, Brown’s a perfectly good name,” Emmett said, for at least the fifth time.
“Yeah, you keep saying,” said Marty. “And I told you –” They made the turning and he broke off, twisting in his seat to watch the road sail past. Then he looked at Emmett. “Where are we going?”
“Ah –”
“This isn’t the way to the mall,” Marty said, correctly.
“We can go shopping for school supplies some other time,” said Emmett. “Now, about –”
Marty didn’t let him finish. “Where are you taking me, old man?”
“We are,” Emmett considered how to put it. “Going to the doctor’s office.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Marty staring at him. “Are you sick?”
“Well –”
“Cause I’m sure as hell not sick,” said Marty. “So, something wrong with you?”
Emmett supposed, with a sigh, that it was time to come clean. “You start school next month,” he said. “Before we enrol you we need to, ah, ensure –” He dropped his voice down to a mutter. “We need to make sure you have all the necessary vaccinations.”
Marty went on staring at him. Then he said, with what Emmett supposed was an impressive degree of tranquillity, “Pull over.”
“I –”
“Pull over!”
“I’m not pulling over,” said Emmett. “Look, we’re – we’re almost here.”
True enough, they made the final turn into the parking of the doctor’s office. He stopped the car. He unfastened his seatbelt. Beside him Marty had gone very quiet.
“Now, Marty –”
“No,” said Marty firmly.
“It’s a matter of public health –”
“No.”
“Can we.” He made the mistake of looking Marty in the eye. “How about we talk about this inside?”
Twisting fully in his seat to face him, Marty said, “How about we could’ve talked about this at home?”
“Marty –”
“What was the plan here?” said Marty. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice we weren’t at the mall or something?”
“Honestly, I was playing it by ear,” Emmett admitted.
Leaning heavily against the seat, Marty breathed out. “You know how I feel about needles, Doc.”
It was a fair assertion. When the subject of vaccination had first come up, some weeks ago, Marty had bristled. An understandable reaction, all things considered; a reaction that made Emmett feel a little queasy.
“You said you’d think about it,” he reminded him.
“I wasn’t done thinking!” Marty protested. “You coulda just told me we were doing this today, Doc!”
“This seemed more expedient.”
“Jesus Christ.” Marty slumped back in the passenger seat. “You are just – Jesus Christ.” His hands balled into fists and with an air of restraint he said, “You know, one of us needs to learn how to behave around people and I don’t know if it’s me.”
Checking his watch, Emmett winced. “Can we have this argument in a few minutes?” he said. “We’re going to be late for your appointment.”
Shaking his head Marty turned away. “Didn’t I get vaccines when I was a dog? I feel like I already got vaccinated.”
“Ah, yes – against a different set of diseases – and I have no idea if the immunity would even carry over –” Much as he would have preferred to continue with the application of logic, last time they’d discussed the matter his arguments had got no response more positive than I’ll think about it, I guess, and they were running dangerously short on time. “Alright, look,” he said. “It’s just a few little shots and when we’re done I’ll take you for ice cream – or donuts – whatever you want. What do you say?”
Marty gave him a considering look. “Both,” he said.
“Both – both?” said Emmett in mild horror.
Marty jabbed a finger at him. “Both,” he said. “Or I’m not going in there.”
“You –” Breathing out, Emmett rubbed at his forehead. They were already late. “Alright,” he said. “Alright! Both it is.”
Squinting at him, Marty considered. Then he brightened. “Wow, really?” he said. “Damn, I did not think you’d fold that easy.” Straightening up he reached for the passenger side door. “Okay, let’s go do this.”
“Oh, you –” As it fully sank in that he’d been hoodwinked Marty was already on his way out the car. “You can’t just – you –” He smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Oh, you rascal.”
*
Later, Marty sat with his feet propped carelessly up on the dashboard, mostly-empty ice cream tub abandoned in the cupholder, getting progressively more covered in powdered sugar and sprinkles. “Okay, uh,” he said. “What’s it called when your first name starts with the same letter as your last name? Is there a word for that?”
“Alliteration.” Emmett eyed the powdered sugar settling on the passenger seat and reflected, firstly, that it’d had far worse messes on it, and secondly that he really had brought this one on himself.
Marty nodded. “Right – right,” he said between bites of donut. “Is that cool?”
Emmett considered. “Now, Marty,” he said. “Much as I want to help you with this, I’m not sure I’m the best judge of what is and isn’t cool.”
“Yeah.” Marty chewed ponderously. “Good point.” He swallowed. “Man, I can’t decide if that’s cool.”
“Far be it from me to rush you,” said Emmett. “But we’re running out of time to enrol you in high school and we do need a last name for the paperwork.
Marty shot him a look and said with his mouth full, “I’ll pick something.”
“Leave it too long and you’ll be Marty Brown,” Emmett warned him.
“Hell no,” said Marty, a reaction Emmett was getting better at not taking offence to.
“Well,” he sighed. “You can always change it later – it’s not an irreversible decision.”
“Really?” Marty seemed earnestly surprised – another of those aspects of human society, so self-evident to Emmett, which had passed him by. “I thought you had to get married for that.”
“Ah – no.” Emmett considered briefly whether this was a moment for a lengthy explanation and decided against it. “No, you can change it whenever you want.”
“Cool,” said Marty. “Okay. Huh. That does make it easier.”
He went back to his donut. He was on his second and eying a third. Emmett shifted the box a little further down the dashboard, a gesture he already knew to be futile. He shouldn’t have let himself be talked into a half dozen – discount be damned.
“Listen,” he said. “Marty. I’m sorry about the subterfuge earlier.”
“It’s okay.” Marty swallowed the last bite of donut, wiped his sugary fingers on the passenger seat, and reached for a third. “Never do that to me again.” He shifted, fidgeting with the band aid on his arm with his free hand.
He’d been – to be brutally honest – a lot braver than Emmett had expected about the shots. He’d insisted on going into the office on his own and had been in and out with impressive speed. Evidently had, yet again, underestimated him.
Marty began devouring his third donut with abandoned. Emmett eyed him with increasing unease. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
Shooting him a sidelong look, chewing slowly, Marty said, “I thought that’s what the vaccines were for?”
“Oh – no, no,” Emmett stammered. “It’s a different kind of sick –”
“I’m kidding,” said Mart.
“I didn’t mean – you can’t get a vaccine for –”
“I’m kidding, Doc,” said Marty. “It was just a joke. Jeez, relax.”
“Oh, thank god.” Emmett leaned heavily back against the car seat, passing a hand over his face. “I was afraid we were going to have to have the germ theory conversation again.”
Marty shook his head. “God,” he said. “You’re too easy, you know that?” He offered Emmett the donut box. “You want another one?”
“No, thank you,” said Emmett firmly.
Marty gave the box an encouraging shake. “You mind if I finish them?”
Emmett looked at the donuts. He heaved a sigh, and supposed that he did owe the kid one. “Fine,” he said, fumbling for the car keys. “Eat as many as you want. Just don’t come crying to me if you make yourself sick again.
He started the car.