Work Text:
Bloodbath
by Vanessa S. Quest
Bedlam was a normalized term in Dr. Quest’s life. He accepted that, along with his leer jet he traversed between international dumpster fires, his space taxi that took him to the occasional cosmic nova... a more poetic dumpster fire of satellites in the exosphere, really, and his reliable Quest Rover which typically took him to more local ones. That was fine. It was all fine. He knew Race would likely be less fine knowing he’d just personally detailed the insides of both the leer jet, and his fleet of travel vehicles but frankly he had internalized how there was a rotation and a typical need.
Case in point, his suburban vehicle had just been re-detailed with sprays of red courtesy of a disproportionate nosebleed from what his teenaged son should rightfully be able to sneeze and dribble from his nose simultaneously.
He thanked his own forgone rational self for never being particularly attached to white labcoats as a routine fashion statement. Sure, they were easy enough to bleach but they hardly ever came back to a pristine state after a day in his life. He looked at his son who was shoving a wadded stack of gauze waiting for the explanation. Since his family was routinely calm even in emergencies, it could make detecting urgency difficult without some minor context, though he was fortunate enough to have determined that, no this was not a large emergency. His son already had gauze handy, and by the looks of it, it was provided by the school. He also looked more embarrassed by the inconvenience versus upset about an injury, so Dr. Quest assumed it hadn’t been a fight though he also supposed his son wouldn’t have lost had it been. On the other hand, he noticed Jessie was staying painfully silent and awkwardly looking away as if not trying to... well, he hadn’t quite deduced what she was avoiding.
“Firstly, do you think it’s broken?” After a moment, he’d calmly asked.
“My pride or my nose?” Jonny muffled through the gauze.
“Your nose, you’re a teenager and pride grows back rapidly.” He answered with a small amount of smarm to offset his son’s insecurities.
“It’s not. I did fall after it started, but that was from getting woozy.”
“...Woozy?” That made Dr. Quest’s ears perk. “How long has it been bleeding?”
Jessie looked around uncomfortably, “...It’s been fifteen minutes.”
“Your nose has been bleeding for that long?” He glanced at his son through the rearview mirror, now reevaluating if mayhaps medical intervention was required after all.
“How did it start?” The tone was less playful, more clinical.
Jonny rolled his eyes, tiredly, he adjusted the pressure on his nose and glanced at Jessie.
Jessie sighed, “It was a dare.”
That caused Dr. Quest to look at her, then back at Jonny begging for clarification.
“She also did it.” Jonny chimed in.
“Yeah, but I know I can handle hot peppers, my mom makes Carolina Reaper hot sauce for wing nights.” Jessie fumed, “Besides, no one said you had to do it too.”
“Kids.” Dr. Quest gave them a stern look as if to hurry them along.
“The dare was to eat a ghost pepper, seeds and all. It was hot, but it wasn’t excruciating...” Jonny chimed, “Those Thai chilis we get sometimes are worse. But after... well, my nose started bleeding.”
“Without injury?”
“I don’t think I injured it, no. Definitely not from eating it, and I didn’t fall until after it was bleeding.”
Jonny pulled the gauze back, checking to see if it finally had subsided. Satisfied that it had, he glanced back at his dad, “It stopped.”
Dr. Quest pinched his brow, “Hmm, well, I suppose capsaicin is a blood thinner...”
“...Wait, really?” Jonny frowned.
“Yes, really.”
“Wasn’t that also a side effect for the streptomycin I just finished taking?”
“...I suppose it was, yes.” The older Quest considered.
The teen leaned back, worn out again. “I should’ve just taken another two days.”
Jessie frowned, “You think? You just get over pneumonia and then you let some idiot goad you into eating a ghost pepper...”
“It really wasn’t even that hot.” Jonny insisted.
Dr. Quest noted the colorful turn of phrase Jessie seamlessly spouted and wondered if his son knew enough Spanish to know just exactly what she’d just called him.
“Maybe you’re right, you probably should have taken an extra day or so to recover. I’ll let Race know you’ll be around and available tomorrow to help him.”
“...Huh?” Jonny looked at his dad, confused.
“When detailing the car.”
Jonny groaned, “That’s so lame.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
-End-