Seating himself carefully on the sofa in the living room, Shaun Angus MacGyver Molloy, Sam to those that knew him, was wondering whether he had done the wrong thing. In fact, he had gone way past wondering; he was four-fifths of the way to convinced.
Suck it up, Sam, he scolded himself, pulling up his shirt and taking another look at the ugly abrasions and bruising on his abdomen. You can't afford to go to the After Hours Clinic tonight. You'll just have to survive until morning. But, of course, that's easier said than done when you've got a father like –
"Hey, Sam," MacGyver (MacGyver, just MacGyver, but also Mac to his friends) came through the door holding two pizza boxes, one of which would be vegetarian, Sam knew. It was his father's one concession when it came to convenience food. "How did the doctor's appointment go?" He carefully gave his son a one-armed hug.
Sam had been laid up for a couple of days with what he had self-diagnosed as a sprained wrist after a fall. When the injury was still swelling forty-eight hours after the accident, Mac had finally put his foot down. He'd made Sam a doctor's appointment and ordered the youth to go.
"Fine, it's just sprained," Sam assured him, resisting the urge to add, "I told you so!"
"Good!" Mac approved. "So, how was your day otherwise?"
"Not too bad," Sam hedged, unwilling to go into detail. "Better now you're home and I'm eating pizza," he grinned, as he leaned across to grab a slice, and suppressing an anguished groan as his raw skin rubbed against his clothes. "How was yours?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," his father replied drily, seating himself on the arm of the sofa facing Sam. "As for me, I got a few interesting phone calls and visitors toward the end of the day. All of them came from media outlets, and all of them wanted me to comment on my son rescuing a child out of a drain. So, I ask you again, how was your day?"
"And I answer again, not too bad," Sam answered, pulling the pizza slice away from his mouth and wrapping his tongue around the tail of melted cheese. "I am fine, the child is fine, everything is fine, so will you, please, just leave me alone!?"
"So that's why you flinched before?" Mac reached out and flipped up Sam's shirt before the youth had a chance to stop him. He stared aghast at the varying colours of his son's skin. "What on earth, Sam?"
"So I got scraped up some, so what?" Sam protested, pushing his Dad's hands away.
"You could have internal injuries, that's "so what?"! Bring the pizza," Mac ordered, jumping to his feet.
"Where are we going?" Sam enquired.
"Where do you think we are going?" Mac snapped. He turned around and saw Sam was still seated on the sofa. "I obviously can't trust you to accurately assess your own health. So we are going to get you checked out by an actual medical professional. Now!"
"I – I - can't get up," Sam admitted with a grimace. Sighing, Mac carefully helped him stand.
"Dad?" Sam whispered haltingly.
"Yes?" Mac responded tiredly.
"I'm sorry," Sam apologised sincerely.
It was many hours before the two men were home again. In that time Sam had seen countless numbers of walls, ceilings, doctors, nurses, blood pressure cuffs, and thermometers. He was sent for x-rays and scans and blood tests. In the end, Sam was cleared of serious injury and sent home with only painkillers and orders to rest.
Settling down against his own headboard in his own bed, Sam let out a long, shuddering, breath. Arriving back with a glass of water, Mac was immediately concerned. "Here, let me help." He fluffed up the pillows and handed Sam a couple of painkillers. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"Yes, there is." Sam patted the edge of the bed. "Sit down." He met his father's eyes, pleading. "Please?"
"What?" Mac grumped. He was angry, he was hungry, he was tired. He wanted to be sleeping, not arguing with a reckless teenager. He flopped down, not caring that he himself was acting like a petulant teen.
"I'm sorry," Sam repeated. "Forgive me?"
Mac was not ready for that yet, so he deflected the conversation. "Tell me about the rescue."
For the better part of the next half hour, Sam recounted the story of how he had gone for a stroll after returning from his appointment with the doctor. After walking for nearly two miles further out of town than they already lived, he heard some muted banging and cries for help and went to investigate. It took him a while but eventually he had located a small child wedged in a dry pipe - not a drain. Recognising the seriousness of the situation, and unwilling to leave the little girl alone while he went for help, Sam worked quickly and cautiously to free her. Because the child took up the majority of the tiny space she was trapped in, Sam had to wriggle and bend around her in impossible ways in order to uncork her, hence the bruises and scrapes. Having to carry the injured child back to the house before he could summon help probably didn't help matters, either, he admitted wryly.
"So, why didn't you get yourself checked out at the same time as she was getting checked out?" Mac interrogated.
"Honestly? At the time I didn't think I was injured. Adrenaline, I guess. It wasn't until a couple of hours later that I started bruising and the pain started."
"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" Mac asked, a lot calmer now he had all the facts. "Why couldn't you have done that when I first asked you about your day?"
"I don't like being fussed over," Sam admitted. Mac's lips curled as he fought to hide his mirth.
"What?" Sam asked. Mac grinned. "Let's just say you didn't get that from your mother. She had no qualms about asking for help if it was needed."
"Just not when it mattered most," Sam muttered.
"So that's where this is coming from?" Mac hoped he was finally beginning to understand his son's train of thought. "Your mother made one mistake in not asking for help when she really needed it and your father's too independent for his own good, so you're doomed to follow in our footsteps?"
"Something like that," Sam grinned sheepishly.
"Well, have I got some good news for you! I once learned to fight my natural instincts and rely on others because I found someone who was worthy of that trust. I'm now learning that skill again because I have found someone else who is just as worthy. And if I can do it, so can you!" Mac encouraged his son.
"Oh, yeah, how?" Sam was unconvinced.
Mac patted the bed between them. "Lie down."
Sam rolled his eyes but obeyed, resigning himself to being pampered and fussed over and forgiven - and definitely not admitting to himself that he quite liked the idea.