As soon as Dr. Mallard and his charge arrived at the old man's house, Ducky quickly pulled the little disgruntled guy out of the car and dragged him into the house. On the way, Palmer muttered something like "You don't have to lead my hand like a five-year-old." The older man just rolled his eyes at this, every time the young man was sick, he became an unbearably capricious child.
"I advise you to keep quiet, young man, you have enough problems. If I were you, I would not want to add rudeness there," Ducky warned sternly. Jimmy went cold, Dr. Mallard only called him "young man" when he was in great trouble and decided that silence was the best thing to do.
When he was ushered into the guest room, which in fact had long since become Palmer's, and sat on the bed, Ducky began helping Jimmy change his clothes. And as often happens when a boy is not feeling well, endless protests began.
"Dr. Mallard, I'm able to change into pajamas myself," the boy muttered in displeasure, trying to pull off his shirt.
"You can hardly stand on your feet, Jimmy. I don't want you to get hurt," the doctor said wearily, helping Palmer to unbutton his buttons.
"I myself!" he pulled away from the annoying doctor and continued to fiddle with his shirt. After several more such attacks from the boy, when Ducky tried to help him, he finally could not stand it. Even the kindest doctor had a limit of patience.
"Okay, young man, this was your last chance," the doctor growled and pulled the guy toward himself. Jimmy got out of bed and screamed as a flurry of scalding blows rained down on his still tender bottom, then he was not quite neatly dropped back onto the bed. This was enough to calm the young man down for a while so that the doctor could calmly dress him in his pajamas.
"That's better," Mallard nodded satisfactorily as his assistant lay quietly in bed, wrapped securely in a blanket, "I'll be back soon."
A few minutes later, the doctor returned with a suitcase of assorted medical supplies. The boy only grimaced in displeasure and turned to the wall.
"Jimmy, turn around, I need to check your temperature." The boy shook his head and buried his face in the pillow.
"I can always do it differently," the doctor slapped Jimmy lightly on the ass. At such a hint, Palmer flinched and blushed, he didn't even want to think about it.
"You won't do it, will you?" The guy asks incredulously.
"Do you want to check?" Mallard smiled slightly and slapped the boy on the buttocks again. The young man decided not to tempt fate and the doctor's patience, so he obediently turned to the man and opened his mouth. They immediately shoved him a thermometer and began to examine him. After five minutes, the thermometer was safely removed.
"104, this is not good," the older man frowned, shook his head and pulled out an ampoule with medicine and a syringe from a medical bag, when the young man saw these instruments he turned pale and began shaking his head violently.
"No, doctor, please don't," pleaded the boy plaintively looking at the man. Ducky shook his head.
"Sorry, kid, but this must be done. It wouldn't have happened if you had told me the truth and took sick leave instead of going to work," Mallard finished sternly and began to draw the medicine into a syringe.
"No, I don't want to," the guy hid under the blanket, as if it would protect him. The young man hated injections more than anything else.
"Come on, kid, we will do it in any case, it depends on you whether it is easy or difficult," said the man calmly, approaching the boy.
"No, no and NO!" James protested. The doctor sighed heavily and put the syringe containing the medicine on the bedside table. He went up to the young man, sat down on the bed and pulled him over. Palmer dropped his belly into the older man's lap. Now the young man practically could not move, his legs were clamped between the legs of the older man, and his hands were securely shackled behind his back. Pants and boxers dangled at the ankles in an instant, exposing the boy's still pink and well-spanked bottom.
Palmer sobbed softly and blushed, he was ashamed to be in such a humiliating position, but at the same time it was the most soothing position for a young man. For some time now, Dr. Mallard decided that this would be the easiest way to inject the boy with medicine. A whimper escaped Jimmy's mouth as the alcohol wipe touched his ass and the needle was inserted.
"Shhh, kid, that's it," the man pulled up the boy's pants and began rubbing his back until he stopped shivering. Then Palmer was put to bed and wrapped in a warm blanket.
"Get some sleep. I'll get you something to eat, kid. I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten anything today " the doctor said and left the room. The young man closed his eyes, was not hungry, but he decided that it would be better to behave well, at least to try. Maybe this will ease his punishment. With these thoughts he fell asleep.
An hour later, he was gently shaken by the shoulders to wake him up. When he hissed in displeasure that he wanted to sleep, his voice became harder.
"Come on, kid, you need to eat," the pleasant smell of chicken broth filled the room. The boy stretched and sat down on the bed, wincing slightly as his still aching ass touched the soft mattress. A tray of food was immediately placed on the bed.
"How do you feel, Jimmy?" The doctor asked while the young man was eating his soup.
"It's better, but I still have a headache and a sore throat, and I'm also tired and have a stuffy nose," Palmer complained as he finished the broth.
"You need to sleep," Mallard said, taking the tray with the empty plate from the young man.
"Can you stay until I sleep?" suddenly asked the guy, but realized that he had just blurted out and covered his mouth with his hand. His face turned red as a tomato and he buried himself in the pillow.
"Of course, I'll just take the dishes and come back," the doctor smiled and ruffled the brown-haired hair. A few minutes later the man returned, took a chair and sat down next to the bed.
"Um, Dr. Mallard, can you tell a story?" The guy asked with hope in his eyes.
"Of course, how about archeology?" the young man beamed and quickly nodded, "I almost forgot. You are punished for three weeks after your recovery. Work at home, nothing else. And we will need to talk about lying and putting ourselves in danger."
Jimmy nodded grimly. Spending three weeks at the doctor's house would be nice, but being punished sucks. In addition to restricting movement, this meant no phone, a computer, a maximum of an hour of TV, went to bed at eight and the strangest thing was no sweets. For Palmer, it was a real torture, since he was a big sweet tooth, Dr. Mallard already forbade him to eat a lot of sweets, because he took too seriously the young man's mild diabetes. But the hope was for supplies of sweets and marshmallows, which, just in case, he hid all over the house of the good doctor, since the guy often visited Mallard. With such thoughts, he fell asleep while Daki told about some excavations in Egypt.
The next day Jimmy was awakened by the ringing of the alarm clock, which he apparently forgot to turn off. Swearing softly, without opening his eyes he tried to fumble for the phone on the nightstand by the bed, but then he remembered that he was not at home now and the mobile was left in the pocket of his trousers that were hanging on the chair. He sighed heavily and got out of bed. Taking his phone from his pocket, he frowned, it wasn't an alarm clock, but Tony. The guy picked up the phone and muttered quietly:
"Good morning."
"Hey gremlin," a hoarse greeting from Tony.
"How are you, Jimmy?" I heard the voice of Kate.
"I'm better now. My head hardly hurts, although I'm still tired and I probably have a fever, and how are you?" The guy asked sleepily.
"We're fine, but you yourself understand ... That Shannon and Gibbs take colds too seriously ... Until the end of the week we have a sick leave ... And all these nasty drugs ... Nightmare," Kate and Tony interrupted each other.
"Gibbs said what happened. Poor fellow, Gibbs will skin you," the girl said sympathetically.
"Yes, but you deserve it, gremlin," Tony said without a drop of pity in his voice.
"I know, I know. But Gibbs will have to wait, Ducky will kill me sooner. Besides, I have been punished for three weeks," the young man squeaked piteously.
"Yeah, Jimmy, it sucks, but it wouldn't have happened if you had listened to us," Kate said, and DiNozzo gave a nod.
"Okay, it's time for us, otherwise if "dad" or "mom" sees that we got out of bed, it won't end well," the guys at the end of the tube giggled, Palmer himself could not help laughing, although he was in such a bunch of troubles.
When the conversation was over, the young man decided to scout the situation and went downstairs into the living room. There was one of the caches with sweets, but before he got to the storage place for his sweets, three painful slaps flew on his ass.
"Ay!" screamed the young man and turned around, what he saw he did not like at all, Dr. Mallard stood with crossed arms and looked displeased at Jimmy.
"Young man, I think I have already told you more than once not to walk barefoot on the cold floor and if you are looking for that supply of marshmallows that was here, then I'm afraid you will be disappointed, all your supplies of sweets have been utilized. And now live in bed until I added a few spanks for you." Jimmy sighed sadly and trudged into the room. If Ducky found all of his candy supplies, it would be a very long three weeks.
After a while, the doctor entered the boy's room with a tray of chicken soup, a cup of tea with lemon and a thermometer.
"How do you feel, young man?" asked the man, passing his hand over the young man's wet forehead.
"I'm feeling better, but my head and throat hurt a little, and I still feel terribly tired," the boy complained with a sad expression on his face and leaned over to the pleasant cold touches in the hope that he would be pitied.
"Open your mouth," the older man commanded and took a thermometer from the tray. Palmer opened his mouth without protest, did not have the strength to complain and tried to do everything possible to reduce his punishment. After a few minutes, the man took out the thermometer and frowned. Jimmy didn't like that look at all, he guessed what was about to happen.
"Please don't," the guy buried his face in the pillow and covered himself with a blanket.
"Forgive me kid, but I need to give one more injection," the doctor confirmed the young man's guess and in one movement threw the guy over his knees. Palmer didn't even struggle, he just cried quietly into the pillow while the elderly man took off his pants and gave him an injection.
"Shh, everything is fine," the man whispered and rubbed the young man's back soothingly, "let you have something to eat," the boy was seated on the bed and given a tray.
"I don't want to," Palmer said wearily.
"Come on, kid, if you eat all the soup, I'll allow you one cookie," the doctor smiled gently and moved the soup closer to the boy. This promise immediately lifted the guy's spirits and without delay he ate all the soup and looked at the older man expectantly. Mallard noted that the baby looked like a puppy who expected a treat for a good job. The man patted the boy on the head and went out to fetch the cookies.
Palmer looked displeased at the cookies the good doctor had brought. It was a cookie with a minimum amount of sugar, and what the guy needed was just sugar. But the young man did not complain, but quickly ate some cookies and drank a cup of hot tea with lemon and went to bed.
"Rest," the doctor ordered, and pulled the blanket up to the boy's chin, "and if I see that you got out of bed, it won't seem like a little to you," the elderly man warned, tenderly kissed the boy on the forehead and left the room, and Jimmy fell asleep again.