A/N: HOLY COW! We are at chapter 61, and 200 reviews. I never thought I'd get here. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE! It's amazing.
He just wants to go to sleep. Is it so much to ask that he close his eyes and oblivion overtake him for a little bit?
The young doctor looks between the boy and his father. "Mr Smythe, I need to ask you to leave while I examine Sebastian," she said, hoping that he would remember their conversation about honestly.
"No." He was firm. He wasn't sure where the word had come from, but he wanted his father there. He wanted Jeff and Nick there. Hell, he wanted Trent and David and Thad. At this point, he would settle for any familiar face, even Hummel or Barbra. He might draw the line at Satana, though.
His father stands at the head of the cot, and puts his hand protectively on his son's shoulder.
The doctor shrugs, and they go through the preliminaries as she examines him.
No, he doesn't smoke. The confident pressure on his shoulder is gentle, and reassuring.
Yes, he drinks, maybe once a week. His father blanches a bit. No, he's not a virgin. Yes, he has been sexually active in the last six months, but always with protection. The pressure on his shoulder increases, and his father frowns, but he doesn't say anything.
Yes, he's taking his medications. … Okay, maybe he missed the past few days. But, he normally takes them.
The doctor sighs as she finished pressing on his stomach, and asks one last odd question. "What do you want to eat?"
This was … an accident. He didn't do it on purpose, not entirely. He was high. He had forgotten to put on his pump, and he was HI. And, he was overwhelmed. And Sad. And eating a ton of candy seemed like a good idea. Only, that just made him higher. He doesn't know why he didn't think of just taking a shot with a syringe. He was tired. He wasn't thinking.
His father's hand tightens on his shoulder, and the older man grimaces.
He raises his eyebrows. "I'm not hungry, I just want to sleep," he admits.
"There has to be something," The doctor insists. "Unless you want to spend the next four or six hours eating every form of disgusting medical sugar the hospital offers, you need to pick something."
Jeff offers to go back to Dalton and get Tim-Tams. Nick says he'll run to restaurant he wants and get take out. They both look tired. His father's hand tightens on his shoulder, and his fathers eyes beg him to eat. They beg him not to let his blood sugar fall.
"Could I have a cinnamon roll?" He asks, his voice tired. He remembers how he used to love the huge, yeasty pastries with their decadent icing and sweet filling. They are about a million carbs a piece, hopefully enough to keep him up for a little while. "And then, can I go to sleep?"
The doctor scribbles something on her pad. "We'll get you the cinnamon roll, and admit you. I need you talk to my colleague and then you can go to sleep," she promises.
There is no question of who is in control of this appointment.