Stop Doing That!
By D. Sidhe: Erika
Category: Humor, or not.
Rating: I'm calling this PG-13 for seriously tacky innuendo. Very little
profanity, which surprised even me, all things considered. But it is extremely
sophomoric, and You Have Been Warned.
Disclaimers: 1013 can have my apologies for mistreating the lads in this incredibly
juvenile way as soon as they apologize for having mistreated them in that incredibly
sadistic way.
Archive: If you want it, take it.
Spoilers: None.
Beta: The Rather Fetching Betty, who
interpreted my clumsy typos with amazing accuracy. And who advised me strongly
against showing this to anyone, suggesting that the notorious canvas shirt with
the customizable long sleeves is somewhere in my future.
Author's Note: If you don't know why this is supposed to be funny, don't worry
about it. If you do know, try not to think about it too much. I am so
prepared to blame the drugs. Write what you know, right? Or not. Saddest of
all, yesterday I had to wait till the SO was out of the house and crack the
passwords on my computer before I could even write this. Protecting me from
myself, I believe was the rationale. I bet it wouldn't work on Langly, either.
And no, I don't know why I'm picking on Langly here. When this scene was playing
itself out in my mind, Byers and Frohike were side-by-side, leaning on someone's
desk, and staring at Langly, who was… doing that… while he worked.
Summary: Langly has repetitive motion stress.
**
Byers had been watching Langly do it for several minutes, and it was driving
him crazy. In fact, Langly'd been doing it on and off for a few days, but it
was getting worse, and Byers couldn't take it anymore. Each time it happened,
he cringed.
"Would you please stop doing that, Ringo!"
Langly looked up, surprised. "Doing what?"
"Your hand! You need to see a doctor. And that isn't going to make it any better!"
Langly glanced down at his hand. "Oh, that. It's no big deal. I mean, it doesn't hurt anymore or anything."
Frohike snorted. He squinted across the dim offices at the two of them, and shook his head slightly. Byers rattled was no prettier a sight than Langly abusing himself. "At least do it somewhere we don't have to watch. Or listen."
"I'm sorry, already, okay? I didn't realize I was doing it again. Just habit, I guess."
"How could you possibly pick up a chronic bad habit like that in less than a week?" Frohike wanted to know.
"Well," Langly colored. "It was pretty interesting when I first noticed it. When it stopped burning, I mean." He paused, and then did it again. His roommates flinched. "See, though? I mean, that's cool, right? I can't feel anything. That's so cool."
He seemed to realize it didn't get the reception he had hoped, and hurried on. "So, like, I did it a couple of times, just because I couldn't feel anything, I mean, because it was funny. Not ha-ha funny…" He trailed off under the scrutiny. "It's just, you know, kind of fascinating." He cleared his throat as the other two men gazed at him in mingled wonder and horror. "I'm just trying to see when the feeling comes back."
Byers and Frohike exchanged Looks. Byers stood up abruptly. "That's it. You're going to the doctor, right now." He took the half-dozen steps necessary to reach Langly, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and literally dragged him out of his chair.
"I don't have an appointment!" Langly protested.
"I'm taking you to the walk-in clinic. This has to stop, Langly. You have got to have it looked at. You should have seen the doctor about it when it started tingling, but now that it's gone numb…" Byers glared at him. "Mel, make sure his insurance is up to date, please. Come on, Ringo. You're going to get dressed while I make sure we have your cards."
"And stop doing that!" Frohike yelled as they went upstairs. "You're only making it worse!"
"Okay, John, maybe you're right. I mean, if you really think it's that important, I'll just go by myself," Langly suggested slyly.
"I'm not falling for that one," Byers told him firmly.
"You don't trust me!" Langly groused.
"No, I don't. For heaven's sake, stop doing that!"
Langly looked down again. "Damn."
"I'm not letting you out of my sight," Byers declared. "And you can't drive like that, anyway."
None of this kept Langly from whining all the way out to the van fifteen minutes later. Frohike breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the door shut behind them.
**
Langly had traded the bitching for a world-class sulk when they got back hours later. Hands thrust deep in pockets, he stalked upstairs without a word, slamming his bedroom door so loudly they heard it all the way down in the offices. Byers gave Frohike a helpless little smile and shrug.
"How'd it go?"
"It's not carpal tunnel. But it's a repetitive stress injury, and it could get a lot worse if he isn't careful. He should try not to use that hand for at least a couple of weeks. She told him to stay off the computer, too."
Frohike blinked. "That must have made him happy."
Byers winced as loud music blasted down at them. "Uh, yes. Happy. Well, her other solution was a cortisone injection."
Frohike shuddered. "That sounds like fun. But that's why it was tingling and burning? And why it went numb?"
"Evidently. The tendons are inflamed and pinching the nerves."
"And the feeling will come back?"
"It should, as long as he doesn't keep making it worse."
"I trust there's a better way to find out," Frohike snickered.
Byers sighed. "He did it in front of the doctor. He really doesn't seem to notice." He almost smiled, but smothered it. "She offered to put a cast on him so he can't make it worse."
"Like those cones they put on dogs so they don't bite their stitches or whatever?"
Byers grimaced. "Thank you, Mel. That's an image I'm going to have in my head for days."
Frohike started to cackle. "What'd he say to that?"
Byers tried not to think about what Langly had said to that. "Nothing constructive. She threatened to sedate him. I said we hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but that we'd keep it in mind. So he has a splint and anti-inflammatory medication instead. She suggested he get a new keyboard, also."
"So it is the typing?"
"Yes. And using the mouse, it seems. We probably should think about better keyboards for all of us, actually."
Frohike managed to recover himself. "Yeah, good idea. I'll see what I can do." He was still grinning. "Though I can't really see you or me hitting our hands against walls and desks just because they've gone numb. Fascinating or not."
Byers just shook his head.
-end-