Of Syringe and Smile
Title: Of Syringe and Smile
Ratings: PG-13?
Characters: Fernando Torres, David Villa
Length: one-shot
Summary: Just one normal day in a life of two med students - uhm, is it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Fernando Torres or David Villa, and it’s purely a fiction.
Author’s Notes: Alternate universe. Inspired by a session of clinical pathology lab practice....forgive me if I used so many medical terms in this story.
-
“Here, take my blood.”
I stared in disbelief at the guy in front of me. He just sat there, legs crossed, laboratory coat thrown randomly on the floor, sleeve rolled up showing almost his entire arms. I could hear a few girls giggled on my back, probably imagining what they wanted to do with those amazingly hot forearms...and shoot, why did I even use those words?! It’s their words, not mine. Though I rarely went out with girls, I was still a normal guy and I was happy with my own arms, thank you so much.
I shook my head to take my mind back to reality. I could feel sweat started to commune on my forehead, and believe me, it wasn’t the kind of thing I experienced much lately. People usually judged me as the kind of cool-and-calm-guy-who-never-panicked-in-any-kind-of-situation, and I was, mostly. But not for this kind of thing.
The guy looked at me. “Why haven’t you started yet? The clock’s ticking, you know.”
“I....I can’t do this,” I whispered.
“You can,” the guy said with a yawn. “Come on, my father’s looking at us.”
I gritted my teeth and forced my hands not to tremble as I picked a syringe.
The guy was David Villa Sanchez, my group mate. He was originally my senior - I wasn’t really sure which class he came from, but he joined mine because he had to repeat his modules. And when I said modules, I really meant it with an “s”. It seemed like the guy had a tendency to repeat. It’s not like he was an idiot, he was just too lazy to study that he failed almost all his tests, one of his friends once told me. I wondered why he hadn’t been expelled already. Oh yeah....maybe it’s because of his father, who was a professor in this goddamn med school. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was the weirdest med student I’d ever met. To make it worse, there was a rumor that he was a gay.
And now I was standing in front of him, in the middle of clinical pathology laboratory practice. On this session, the lecturers asked us to do phlebotomy, which means we had to take other people’s blood to analyze what was inside it. Maybe there was something wrong with David’s hemoglobin, we never knew. But for now I couldn’t care less about it, because the prospect of me doing the phlebotomy itself made me shivering already.
Silently I cursed myself for agreeing to do this. All my group-mates pleaded to me, telling me that I was the bright one and the number one in my class so-please-do-the-fucking-phlebotomy-for-us and so on. The problem was, I’d never done such things before - oh yeah, maybe I had, but I did that to a freaking dummy. A dummy couldn’t get hurt, right? It couldn’t scream if I accidentally penetrated the wrong vessel.
“Why it takes you so long to open the damn syringe?” David asked in a bored tone.
I swallowed. “I....I’m afraid. I’ve never done this before....”
“So are your friends,” he replied in the same manner as before.
“Why....why don’t you do this?” I suggested. “You....you have done this before, right?”
He looked right into my eyes this time. “I have. But if I do, you’ll always be the dumb. Come on. A few years again, you’ll be a real doctor and you have to do phlebotomy to real patients. You should be grateful that you have a chance to do this to me now. Some patients won’t easily cooperate, especially the kids.”
“But....what if I accidentally punctured the artery? What if I penetrated your muscle? What if....”
“You said ‘what if’ three times already,” David said, looking so amused.
I stared at him, with incredulous look this time. Didn’t he understand my feelings?!
“You already know how to do phlebotomy,” he continued, totally ignoring my bitter look, “so do that, now. If you feel the sensation like you’ve been puncturing a paper, stop and pull out my blood. Easy as A,B,C, right?”
I really wanted to grab this syringe, puncture his carotid artery and watch him dying, but then again, I was supposed to be a doctor, not a psycho. So I took a deep breath and started unwrapping the syringe.
'Come on, Nando. Be calm. Be calm.'
I pulled a chair and sat in front of him. I took a slight glance to his arms, half-expecting to find nothing but there were his veins, looked so clear and blue. Picking an alcohol swab, I wiped it off his fossa cubiti to sterilize it. Then I put a tourniquet on his upper arm to stem his blood. “Can you clench your f....”
“I’ve done it already,” he said, grinning, showing his clenched fist.
Making a mental note to break this guy’s nose one day, I finally picked the syringe. A sweat dripped on my nose as I positioned the needle to puncture David’s vein.
“Calm down, boy,” he said, but his tone wasn’t reassuring.
‘Well, at least if this goddamn needle penetrated your muscle, you’ll learn not to make fun of me,’ I thought bitterly, but in the same time I prayed to God to make it right.
I took a deep breath and started counting.
One....
Two....
Three....
And the needle punctured David’s vein.
He didn’t scream or make any moves, he just sat there with his eyes closed, his face showed no expression at all so I decided that I had done it successfully. Slowly, I absorbed the blood, then I pressed a cotton on the needle while pulling it out. When finally the blood had been placed safely inside the vacuette, I let out a deep breath.
“Well done,” David smiled at me.
Wait....did he just smile? This cold-and-cynical guy just smiled at me? And a sincere one, I might add?!
“Umm....thank you?” I answered hesitantly, not knowing what else to say.
David picked his laboratory coat and put it on. “Do you know that you look so cute when you’re concentrating?” he said, winking in the way a teenage girl did to her secret crush.
Oh my God.
FIN
Ratings: PG-13?
Characters: Fernando Torres, David Villa
Length: one-shot
Summary: Just one normal day in a life of two med students - uhm, is it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Fernando Torres or David Villa, and it’s purely a fiction.
Author’s Notes: Alternate universe. Inspired by a session of clinical pathology lab practice....forgive me if I used so many medical terms in this story.
-
“Here, take my blood.”
I stared in disbelief at the guy in front of me. He just sat there, legs crossed, laboratory coat thrown randomly on the floor, sleeve rolled up showing almost his entire arms. I could hear a few girls giggled on my back, probably imagining what they wanted to do with those amazingly hot forearms...and shoot, why did I even use those words?! It’s their words, not mine. Though I rarely went out with girls, I was still a normal guy and I was happy with my own arms, thank you so much.
I shook my head to take my mind back to reality. I could feel sweat started to commune on my forehead, and believe me, it wasn’t the kind of thing I experienced much lately. People usually judged me as the kind of cool-and-calm-guy-who-never-panicked-in-any-kind-of-situation, and I was, mostly. But not for this kind of thing.
The guy looked at me. “Why haven’t you started yet? The clock’s ticking, you know.”
“I....I can’t do this,” I whispered.
“You can,” the guy said with a yawn. “Come on, my father’s looking at us.”
I gritted my teeth and forced my hands not to tremble as I picked a syringe.
The guy was David Villa Sanchez, my group mate. He was originally my senior - I wasn’t really sure which class he came from, but he joined mine because he had to repeat his modules. And when I said modules, I really meant it with an “s”. It seemed like the guy had a tendency to repeat. It’s not like he was an idiot, he was just too lazy to study that he failed almost all his tests, one of his friends once told me. I wondered why he hadn’t been expelled already. Oh yeah....maybe it’s because of his father, who was a professor in this goddamn med school. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was the weirdest med student I’d ever met. To make it worse, there was a rumor that he was a gay.
And now I was standing in front of him, in the middle of clinical pathology laboratory practice. On this session, the lecturers asked us to do phlebotomy, which means we had to take other people’s blood to analyze what was inside it. Maybe there was something wrong with David’s hemoglobin, we never knew. But for now I couldn’t care less about it, because the prospect of me doing the phlebotomy itself made me shivering already.
Silently I cursed myself for agreeing to do this. All my group-mates pleaded to me, telling me that I was the bright one and the number one in my class so-please-do-the-fucking-phlebotomy-for-us and so on. The problem was, I’d never done such things before - oh yeah, maybe I had, but I did that to a freaking dummy. A dummy couldn’t get hurt, right? It couldn’t scream if I accidentally penetrated the wrong vessel.
“Why it takes you so long to open the damn syringe?” David asked in a bored tone.
I swallowed. “I....I’m afraid. I’ve never done this before....”
“So are your friends,” he replied in the same manner as before.
“Why....why don’t you do this?” I suggested. “You....you have done this before, right?”
He looked right into my eyes this time. “I have. But if I do, you’ll always be the dumb. Come on. A few years again, you’ll be a real doctor and you have to do phlebotomy to real patients. You should be grateful that you have a chance to do this to me now. Some patients won’t easily cooperate, especially the kids.”
“But....what if I accidentally punctured the artery? What if I penetrated your muscle? What if....”
“You said ‘what if’ three times already,” David said, looking so amused.
I stared at him, with incredulous look this time. Didn’t he understand my feelings?!
“You already know how to do phlebotomy,” he continued, totally ignoring my bitter look, “so do that, now. If you feel the sensation like you’ve been puncturing a paper, stop and pull out my blood. Easy as A,B,C, right?”
I really wanted to grab this syringe, puncture his carotid artery and watch him dying, but then again, I was supposed to be a doctor, not a psycho. So I took a deep breath and started unwrapping the syringe.
'Come on, Nando. Be calm. Be calm.'
I pulled a chair and sat in front of him. I took a slight glance to his arms, half-expecting to find nothing but there were his veins, looked so clear and blue. Picking an alcohol swab, I wiped it off his fossa cubiti to sterilize it. Then I put a tourniquet on his upper arm to stem his blood. “Can you clench your f....”
“I’ve done it already,” he said, grinning, showing his clenched fist.
Making a mental note to break this guy’s nose one day, I finally picked the syringe. A sweat dripped on my nose as I positioned the needle to puncture David’s vein.
“Calm down, boy,” he said, but his tone wasn’t reassuring.
‘Well, at least if this goddamn needle penetrated your muscle, you’ll learn not to make fun of me,’ I thought bitterly, but in the same time I prayed to God to make it right.
I took a deep breath and started counting.
One....
Two....
Three....
And the needle punctured David’s vein.
He didn’t scream or make any moves, he just sat there with his eyes closed, his face showed no expression at all so I decided that I had done it successfully. Slowly, I absorbed the blood, then I pressed a cotton on the needle while pulling it out. When finally the blood had been placed safely inside the vacuette, I let out a deep breath.
“Well done,” David smiled at me.
Wait....did he just smile? This cold-and-cynical guy just smiled at me? And a sincere one, I might add?!
“Umm....thank you?” I answered hesitantly, not knowing what else to say.
David picked his laboratory coat and put it on. “Do you know that you look so cute when you’re concentrating?” he said, winking in the way a teenage girl did to her secret crush.
Oh my God.
FIN