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It had been extremely minor surgery for a shoulder issue. Walter had made the joke of it being an old baseball injury, what with him being a pro and everything, and Scooter had worried about it more than him. There are panic-bought provisions lining their cabinets at home, painkillers and gauze and lots of things they’re never going to use. Scooter vaguely remembers buying a child’s thermometer made to look like a giraffe, and Walter subjecting him to house arrest for the remainder of the day.
Still, sitting next to Walter’s much too large hospital bed and waiting for him to wake up, all Scooter feels now is relief. Of course, in spite of his worst fears, everything had gone just fine, and now he just has to wait for Walter to wake up and get the all clear and then they can go home. Scooter’s going to be the best nurse Walter could possibly ask for.
At great length, Walter begins to stir, brow furrowing slightly. He’d gone down easy, but waking up is always harder for smaller Muppets—they still don’t seem quite sure of how to dose anaesthetic for somebody three feet tall and made of felt.
“Walter.” Scooter says, quietly. “It’s me. It’s Scooter. Wake up, ok?”
He takes the opportunity to smooth Walter’s fuzzy hair down a little. It’s all messed up at the back. He won’t like that, when he’s back to his senses. Maybe Scooter can brush it for him before they get to the car.
Finally, Walter opens his eyes, fluttering his lashes in a way that makes Scooter smile. He reaches out to gently touch Walter’s arm.
“Hi, sweetheart. You ok?”
Walter blinks, then blinks again, too slow. He understandably seems incredibly out of it. Scooter bites back a laugh. It feels ok to see the humour in this now that he knows Walter isn’t dying on an operating table somewhere.
“Sc’r.”
Walter murmurs, some groggy form of urgency in his voice. He scrunches his little face up, looking terribly pained. Scooter frowns.
“What’s wrong? Are you sore?”
“‘S happenin’?”
“You just got out of surgery, baby. You had to have a small operation on your shoulder. You’re all better now.”
“I mean—Sc’r—you. Here. Why?”
Scooter tilts his head. Walter knows who he is, then. Why is he so confused?
“I’m here to take you home. You can’t drive yourself, sweetheart.”
“You are—y’re not real.”
Oh. Oh? Scooter startles a little, but keeps his hand on Walter’s arm. Just how much of that stuff did they give him?
“I am. I’m really here, Walter. See? I’m touching your arm.”
“No. No, you…no. Scooter. He lives in TV.”
Walter turns his head away, frowning deeply. He looks on the verge of tears. Scooter reaches out to cup his face.
“I’m real, Walter. I’m on the TV, but I’m outside, now. I’m here to take you home.”
“Gary. Gary’ll take home. I wa—I need ‘im.”
“Gary’s at home in Smalltown. You live in Los Angeles, ok? I promise you, this’ll all make sense in just a little while. You get to come home with me, sweetheart. You can come and watch Muppet Treasure Island. Won’t that be nice?”
Scooter does feel pretty patronising right now, which is something Walter loathes even more than having messed up hair, but he can’t think of another non-terrifying way of speaking to someone convinced he’s hallucinating his boyfriend. Actually—
“Walter, we live together. I’m Scooter, the Muppet, and I’m real—“
“No!”
“Yes! Walter, you’re a Muppet. You’ve been in two movies and some streaming originals that weren’t very—anyway. You’re my boyfriend. We live together. I’m going to take you back to our house and look after you, because I love you.”
Walter turns back to stare at Scooter very hard, and promptly starts crying, little body shaking. It’s awful, but at the same time, Scooter almost starts to laugh. He can hear Walter’s heart rate monitor going crazy in a pretty flattering way. They’re probably going to get some poor, terrified nurse skittering in here in a minute.
“It’s ok, baby. I know it’s scary. It’s going to be ok, honestly. Really!”
He keeps going with this steady string of reassuring nonsense, brushing Walter’s hair back from his eyes. Walter sighs, calming himself down a little.
“Can I have hug?”
Scooter smiles. Obligingly, he leans towards, wrapping his arms around Walter, careful of the cables running off him. It’s very uncomfortable, mashed against the plastic sides of the hospital bed, but worth it for the way Walter weakly nuzzles into his shoulder.
“Y’smell nice.”
He says, frankly. Scooter has to laugh at that.
“Thanks. You smell of hospital.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s ok. You smell good, too, usually.”
Eventually, Walter pulls back, still sniffling. Scooter takes his hands in lieu of snuggling him.
“When you feel a little better, we can go home, ok? We can call your brother on the way there. He really wanted to talk to you. I’ve already texted him to tell him you’re ok.”
“M’kay.”
He gives Scooter a wobbly smile at that. He seems to be becoming slightly more amenable to the idea of Scooter being real.
“You know all the rest of us, too, Walter. You know Kermit, on your watch? He’s your friend.”
As Scooter probably should have expected, Walter starts to bawl again. Oh dear. Scooter pulls him back in again, and doesn’t tell the doctor what got him so agitated when he finally comes in to see what on earth is wrong. At least it’ll be a funny story to tell Walter when he’s back to normal.
Scooter’ll reveal to him that he’s a Muppet just a few more times before then, though. Just to make him happy.