Fic: De the Doctor
Fandom: Real Person Fiction
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This never happened anywhere but in my deranged mind.
Summary: When Leonard is sick Bill doesn't call a doctor he calls De. De is not amused.
De the Doctor
The afternoon breeze floats into the living room, keeping it comfortably cool as De sits down; grateful to be out of the heat. He shouldn’t be complaining really, with the show’s budget it wasn’t often they got work on a location that wasn’t built out of tin foil. Shooting had gone well this week, it had been strange doing most of it without Leonard though; and they had actually finished early for once. He smiles as he relaxes on the couch; it’s been a good week.
Until Bill calls.
“Hello?”
“De, Leonard’s sick!”
“Is it serious? Is he in the hospital?”
“No he’s lying on his bed like a grumpy log.”
De sighs. “Then what do you want me to do, send him some roses as a get well wish?”
“You have to help him.”
“Bill, you do remember that I’m an actor, not a doctor, right?”
“We can’t just leave him like this!”
“Look, Bill, I’m sure he’ll be all right just-”
“But you-”
“I’m not a doctor I don’t cure people,” he repeats.
And he repeats that to himself too…all the way to Leonard’s house.
“Oh thank god you’re here,” Bill says practically yanking De inside.
“He looks awful, what can I do to help?”
De may not be a doctor but he knows enough to know that a panicking aide is no help at all, so he picks up a thick stack of paper and shoves it into Bill’s arms.
“You can work on next week’s script and leave the ailing man to me.”
With that he went into the bedroom.
“Bill, I told you to go away!”
The comment is strong, but his arm is not, and the pillow lands pitifully in front of De’s feet.
“Unless I’ve shrunk you’ve got the wrong guy, Len.”
“Sorry, De, I didn’t know it was you.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” he says, picking up the pillow and putting it back under Leonard’s head.
Bill was right Leonard does look awful. His hair is a mess and the parts that aren’t sticking up with bed head are stuck to his face with sweat. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his nose is red, and his eyes are glassy and staring at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have been charged by our friend out there with curing you.”
“I’m sorry, De, you didn’t have to come.”
“I know, what I don’t know is why Bill can’t bring you fluids instead of me.”
“Bill can’t be trusted with anything he’d find a way to burn water.”
“I heard that!”
“Good!”
“Don’t strain your voice,” De says as he begins straitening out the blankets on the bed. Then he goes looking for some supplies, coming back with a cold cloth in a bowl ice water, an aspirin bottle; that Leonard had apparently tried to open with the new child safety cap before giving up and leaving it, and a bucket just in case.
When Leonard is as comfortable as he is going to get De went out to the kitchen to see if he can remember how to make his grandfather’s cure all drink. Half an hour later he stands back to admire his work. It looks like mud and smells like road-kill, it’s ready.
He enters the bedroom with it and Leonard raises his stubby eyebrow at the mug.
“What is that?!”
“An old family recipe, a combination of ingredients that will clear you right out, but if I tell you what they are you’ll never drink it, cheers.”
When Leonard finally manages to drink it all down and fall asleep De takes the mug back to the kitchen, and finds Bill slumped awkwardly on the couch and snoring. Somehow De manages to get Bill in a position that won’t kill his neck in the morning and finding an extra blanket in the closet he drapes it over him before going back to Leonard. He should stay and make sure he sleeps through the night. He’s his patient after all and besides it’s quieter in the bedroom.
***
De wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of breakfast. Wandering out into the kitchen he starts spooning eggs onto a plate while Leonard and Bill argue on the couch.
“It’s not a miracle, Bill!”
“You just don’t know how sick you were, Leonard! You looked like you were at death’s doorstep!”
“It was half over by the time he got here!”
Bill crosses his arms over his chest in a huff. “Leonard, you’re being so ungrateful! The least you could do is thank him for saving your life!”
Knowing the battle is lost Leonard looks up from his orange juice.
“Thanks, De.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, sits down between them and picks up the script.
“So, what gripping morality drama do we have this week?” he asks.
“Kirk wares a harness.”
Leonard drops his copy of the script on the coffee table.
“Who wrote this?”
The End
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This never happened anywhere but in my deranged mind.
Summary: When Leonard is sick Bill doesn't call a doctor he calls De. De is not amused.
De the Doctor
The afternoon breeze floats into the living room, keeping it comfortably cool as De sits down; grateful to be out of the heat. He shouldn’t be complaining really, with the show’s budget it wasn’t often they got work on a location that wasn’t built out of tin foil. Shooting had gone well this week, it had been strange doing most of it without Leonard though; and they had actually finished early for once. He smiles as he relaxes on the couch; it’s been a good week.
Until Bill calls.
“Hello?”
“De, Leonard’s sick!”
“Is it serious? Is he in the hospital?”
“No he’s lying on his bed like a grumpy log.”
De sighs. “Then what do you want me to do, send him some roses as a get well wish?”
“You have to help him.”
“Bill, you do remember that I’m an actor, not a doctor, right?”
“We can’t just leave him like this!”
“Look, Bill, I’m sure he’ll be all right just-”
“But you-”
“I’m not a doctor I don’t cure people,” he repeats.
And he repeats that to himself too…all the way to Leonard’s house.
“Oh thank god you’re here,” Bill says practically yanking De inside.
“He looks awful, what can I do to help?”
De may not be a doctor but he knows enough to know that a panicking aide is no help at all, so he picks up a thick stack of paper and shoves it into Bill’s arms.
“You can work on next week’s script and leave the ailing man to me.”
With that he went into the bedroom.
“Bill, I told you to go away!”
The comment is strong, but his arm is not, and the pillow lands pitifully in front of De’s feet.
“Unless I’ve shrunk you’ve got the wrong guy, Len.”
“Sorry, De, I didn’t know it was you.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” he says, picking up the pillow and putting it back under Leonard’s head.
Bill was right Leonard does look awful. His hair is a mess and the parts that aren’t sticking up with bed head are stuck to his face with sweat. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his nose is red, and his eyes are glassy and staring at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have been charged by our friend out there with curing you.”
“I’m sorry, De, you didn’t have to come.”
“I know, what I don’t know is why Bill can’t bring you fluids instead of me.”
“Bill can’t be trusted with anything he’d find a way to burn water.”
“I heard that!”
“Good!”
“Don’t strain your voice,” De says as he begins straitening out the blankets on the bed. Then he goes looking for some supplies, coming back with a cold cloth in a bowl ice water, an aspirin bottle; that Leonard had apparently tried to open with the new child safety cap before giving up and leaving it, and a bucket just in case.
When Leonard is as comfortable as he is going to get De went out to the kitchen to see if he can remember how to make his grandfather’s cure all drink. Half an hour later he stands back to admire his work. It looks like mud and smells like road-kill, it’s ready.
He enters the bedroom with it and Leonard raises his stubby eyebrow at the mug.
“What is that?!”
“An old family recipe, a combination of ingredients that will clear you right out, but if I tell you what they are you’ll never drink it, cheers.”
When Leonard finally manages to drink it all down and fall asleep De takes the mug back to the kitchen, and finds Bill slumped awkwardly on the couch and snoring. Somehow De manages to get Bill in a position that won’t kill his neck in the morning and finding an extra blanket in the closet he drapes it over him before going back to Leonard. He should stay and make sure he sleeps through the night. He’s his patient after all and besides it’s quieter in the bedroom.
***
De wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of breakfast. Wandering out into the kitchen he starts spooning eggs onto a plate while Leonard and Bill argue on the couch.
“It’s not a miracle, Bill!”
“You just don’t know how sick you were, Leonard! You looked like you were at death’s doorstep!”
“It was half over by the time he got here!”
Bill crosses his arms over his chest in a huff. “Leonard, you’re being so ungrateful! The least you could do is thank him for saving your life!”
Knowing the battle is lost Leonard looks up from his orange juice.
“Thanks, De.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, sits down between them and picks up the script.
“So, what gripping morality drama do we have this week?” he asks.
“Kirk wares a harness.”
Leonard drops his copy of the script on the coffee table.
“Who wrote this?”
The End