fandom_clinic | Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

The passage of air was LOUD today and Wilson moved very, very carefully in an attempt to keep the air as still as possible. He was late opening the Clinic not because he was late getting *to* the Clinic but because he was moving very slowly…in the hope of keeping the air really quiet.

Getting the doors open, he started a pot of coffee and sucked back the third 20oz bottle of water he’d been drinking since about oh…not too many hours ago. Putting a happy face on, he managed to do rounds without passing out, which was a blessing, checking in on Rory, Logan and Jack before crawling back up to the front desk.

Sitting down, very carefully –DAMN AIR WILL YOU SHUT UP!- Wilson leaned forward till he could cradle his head on his forearms. Seven…liquors….what the hell had he been thinking last night?

That it felt good to laugh a little and not hurt…andohGodI’mnottwentyanymore

Dragging his water bottle down into his lap to snuggle it close, Wilson reached for the half a piece of bagel he’d been trying to choke down for over an hour now. He was about half-way through it. By noon he might be finished with it.

If I live that long…Crowley is going to kill me.

Taking a slow breath, Wilson sat up and reached for a chart. He was being in his charting and really needed to catch up, if the little black squiggly lines would just stay still long enough for him to read them.

Doctor on Duty.

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"Thanks," Angela says, returning the smile.

Then, hesitantly: "Are you getting sick yourself? Because you look kind of, um, green."

Inwardly, he had to chuckle a little because...well, not much else to do at this point really.

Giving her a wan smile he reached for his water bottle.

"No, Miss Chase I'm not getting sick. I'm playing poster child for the wages over overindulgence in alcoholic beverages. Let this be a lesson to you, abstain from drinking it's bad for you and if you absolutely must, moderation is the key."

He sat there for a moment, looking a little curious about his own voice and then, in more simple terms.

"Booze bad."

"I kind of learned that last year," Angela says. "Had a friend who OD'd on booze and E during her birthday party." She rubs her forehead. "She was fine, but it made it a little hard for me to be casual about drinking too much, y'know?"

She realizes she sounds lecturey and smiles. "So ... yeah. Booze bad. I'm sorry you're sick, though."

Wilson nodded gently, obviously more concerned that she and her friend were all right then any 'lecturey' tones. In fact, he chuckled a little and waved her back towards the rooms.

"Believe me, Miss. Chase...it's going to get much worse. Call me if you guys need anything and tell Logan he better get back to his own room before Rory's mother stops by."

"No problem," Angela says, flushing just a bit. "I'll, um, tell him. If they're even awake."

She heads back to Rory's room.

A little later, Angela leaves the exam room and edges up to Dr. Wilson. "Is it okay for Rory to have coffee? I promised to get her some if it was."

He was contemplating the likely hood that a chopstuck jambed in his ear would give him a similar headache to the one he had now when Angela came out.

Blinking a little, Wilson purses his lips thoughtfully then nodded.

"Half a cup, she still needs to be careful with her dietary intake until her body finishing healing itself but...all hail the mighty coffee bean."

"She'll love you," Angela rpomises, filling a cup halfway with the caffeinated elixir.

Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

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