Chapter Text
You heard the flapping wings noise and the gentle cooing. Archimedes had landed on your shoulder, staring at you with his beady little eyes. You patted him affectionately and carefully removed the paper from his beak.
“I need to check on you, if you please. -Medic.” - the note said.
“Well, let’s not keep your daddy waiting?”
Archimedes cooed in response, nibbling on your earlobe.
—
Your steps were slower than usual, the dull ache from your most recent injury still gnawing at you—a brutal reminder of how close things had been this time. Medic had been uncharacteristically quiet while patching you up on the battlefield, his usual rambling reduced to clipped, precise instructions.
Pushing the lab door open, you were hit with the familiar scent of antiseptic, medic’s aftershave lotion and something faintly burnt. Medic sat on the chair, reading through the records. His eyes snapped to you the moment you entered.
"Ah! You are here! Gut, gut! I was beginning to wonder if Archimedes had gotten lost again."
“Fortunately, not inside one of your patients”
“He likes cozy spaces!” Medic tried to justify his pet's behavior. “But that's not the reason why I summoned you here.”
“I’m all ears.”
Medic inspected you with a clinical intensity that made your skin crawl.
"I did patch you, ja? But that does not mean you are excused from follow-up examinations." He said, carefully peeling back the edge of the gauze, treating the wound before replacing it with a fresh wrap. His touch, usually confident and almost aggressive, was noticeably gentler.
“Oh, come on! Barely a scratch, see? It'll heal itself soon.”
“You must follow your doctor’s orders.” He insisted.
“You’re no doctor, you’ve lost your license. Heavy has told me.”
“The courts say I cannot practice medicine, but they never said I must stop.” He sounded like his ego was a little bruised. “Where would you be without my help?”
"Is this your way of saying you’re worried about me?" You teased, watching his expression closely.
"Nein!" he snapped, though the way he avoided your gaze betrayed him. "This is purely a medical interest!"
"Uh-huh." You smirked.
He straightened abruptly, adjusting his glasses. "You were careless! Reckless! I cannot have my... test subject die before my eyes. It's a waste of hard work."
You chuckled, leaning back slightly. "Test subject, huh? And here I thought we got along so well."
He huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Ja. Keeping everyone alive is already a full-time job! Do not make it harder."
You noticed the reassuring flash of softness in his eyes, buried beneath layers of detached professionalism and scientific obsession.
"You could just admit you care, you know."
"Ridiculous!” Medic threw up his hands in exasperation. “This is why I prefer corpses. They do not accuse me of anything nor complain."
You grinned, nudging him lightly. "Should I start playing dead more often to keep you happy?"
He muttered something about sewing your mouth under his breath. Archimedes fluttered onto the table, cooing, as if he saw right through Medic's act as well.
As you stood to leave, thinking, that there was nothing to discuss, Medic spoke up again.
"I didn't say that the reception was over.” He frowned, slightly annoyed. “I need to run some tests on you, then you may go. But you will return tomorrow for another check-up.” He added, pinning you with an intense stare. “This is not a request."
You smiled, nodding. "Wouldn't miss it."
Medic grunted, but you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just a little.