Viggo
I sigh, softly, as I stand, clipboard in hand and contemplate the lardy, white belly boiling over the top of the capacious white underpants, like one of those suet puddings my British friends enjoy so much.
My eyes continue down the crumbly white skin of the legs, varicosely veined in blue, reminiscent of French cheese !
Shit, I really must be hungry, since I seem to be able to think only in terms of food, although the imagery is taking my appetite away, as soon as the thoughts form in my head !
“Just take a seat for a moment, Mr Davies, while I take your blood pressure.”
I took on this job to cover a friend, a fellow doctor, who has gone trekking in the Himalayas for three months. He was only released on the understanding that he find his own cover and I owed him a favour.
“Oh dear, oh dear ! That’s pretty high ! *How unexpected !*”
It also suited me, as I had come to the end of a locum contract and had to decide whether to return home to the States or find another contract over here. I figured it would give me some breathing space.
“Are you experiencing any breathlessness, or chest pains ? Uh huh, that figures, I am afraid. You will be getting ex-rays and an ECG today, of course.”
Well I got the breathing space, but what I didn’t expect was the assault on my aesthetic sensibilities. I have never hidden my appreciation for and love of my own sex, but at this Wellness Clinic, I am subjected to a stream of middle-aged businessmen, paid for by their companies, grown sleek and fat on expense account lunches. It’s all broken veins, bald heads and paunches. Not a single taut buttock in sight- yeah, I know they usually come in twos, I’m a doctor ! It’s nearly enough to turn me het, but that would be a last resort.
“Do you have any erection problems ?”
Stupid question. He can’t even see his prick ! Probably hasn’t seen it in years. Of course he will lie and say ‘No’.
“Do you need to pee frequently ? Do you have to get up in the night ?”
Oh God, I will have to do the prostate exam in a minute ! Can’t put it off. And the feeling for lumps in the testicles ! The things I do in the name of medicine!
“So Mr Davies, if you would go behind the screens and remove your underpants for me, please. There’s a gown there for you to put on. *Please, God, put the gown on*.
I wash my hands and pull on my purple latex gloves with a snap. I am a professional and I can do this !
“Ready for me now, Mr Davies ? You are ? “ *Oh good !*
I dream that one day, somebody presentable, maybe even a little attractive will walk through that door, but I guess I can just dream on !
Sean
The drive to my agent’s office is taking ages, and it’s like all other traffic is focused on irritating and annoying me. Since I am wearing a baseball cap I dare to show my middle finger to the guy trying to cut me off. The way I look today, he probably wouldn’t recognize me if I wasn’t wearing the cap though.
I know it is childish, but it makes me feel a bit better. Life sucks at the moment, there’s too much time between projects to my taste, the Blades have been relegated and I seem to be in a foul mood all the time.
Truth is I haven’t been feeling too well lately, and I don’t enjoy anything right now : eating, working out .. or sex. I just don’t feel like it.
I know it will be all right once I start filming again. It’ll be easier to cut down on the drinking and smoking too. I know I have been overdoing it lately, but those are the only things that make me feel a tad better.
I park my car in the designed area, and walk up the three stairs to Paul’s office..I am panting slightly, so I wait a while before stepping in. His secretary is behind her desk, but I don’t feel like answering to her Miss Moneypenny act, and just greet her curtly, opening the door to Paul’s office.
He is standing by the window and turns around when I come in. He is dressed as impeccably as ever, reminding me of the baseball cap l am still wearing and I pull it off.
“Sean, take a seat,” he says, his manners as polished as his nails, and I slump down in the big yellow chair. “Coffee ?”
“Nah, I drank coffee before I left home. Let’s get to business, what did I need to come for ?”
He sighs and looks at me over the rim of his glasses.
“It’s not easy for me to bring this up Sean, but I am a bit worried about you. You seem... not completely yourself lately. You don’t look very well either, and I am afraid it will get us both into trouble with your new project. Let’s face it Sean, they want you not only because you’re a great actor, but because of your looks too. What’s going on ?”
I mutter something about not getting much sleep last night, but that seems to piss him off and makes him forget his posh accent.
“Don’t give me that shite Sean, this has been going on for far too long now. Tell me the truth.”
“It’s just that I get restless when I don’t work for a while Paul, I’ve had enough of gardening and all that stuff. I will be okay once I get back to work, you’ll see.”
He sighs again and sits down at the corner of his desk.
“I am sorry Sean, but that’s not good enough, I am afraid. “
He grabs a small card from his desk and hands it to me.
“I let Susan make you an appointment at this clinic for tomorrow. There will be a full examination. I don’t know whether it’s just your lifestyle, or if there’s something really wrong with you, but I want it checked before you leave.”
I feel rage coming up and I jump out of the chair, my hand holding him down on his expensive desk.
“What the fuck Paul, how dare you send me to the doctor like you’re my wife or something ? I don’t need a doctor !”
“I won’t let you leave for the US if you don’t go Sean, I won’t allow you to make a fool of yourself. The contract is not signed yet, and you need my signature on it.”
He looks at me and his voice softens a little : “Look Sean, we’ve know each other a long time, I am truly worried about you. If this doctor says there’s nothing wrong with you, then all’s fine. If there’s something else : well, we have another 5 weeks before you leave and we can work it out. Okay ?”
I hesitate, but finally nod reluctantly. “Okay then, even though I don’t like being forced into things. And it had better be discreet !”
“Absolutely Sean, it’s known for its discretion and only the best doctors work there, I assure you.”
I grab my cap from the chair and stamp out of his office, without saying goodbye.
Viggo
I don’t usually work on Saturdays and spend the weekend painting or writing and often taking photographs around London, off the tourist trail, looking for the quirky and unusual.
It’s a form of relaxation I need and I enjoy spending time alone. There hasn’t been anybody I want to spend time with for a long while, to tell the truth, but I don’t really enjoy going to clubs and other places to meet people with the same inclinations as me are far and few between. Sure I have friends in London, but they are mostly married with families. I get invited to dinner parties and barbecues, but mostly I decline, preferring my own company and looking forward to my time off.
I am therefore not pleased to be told that an appointment for a full, Premier Health Assessment, the very expensive Rolls Royce service we provide for the top executives, most valuable to their companies, has been booked for my precious Saturday.
But, when I complain, I am told that it has been booked as a favour to a friend of our Chairman, who wanted an urgent assessment for one of his clients. They don’t even tell me the name of the patient, as absolute discretion has been promised.
That is also part of our usual service, so I start wondering, why the extra emphasis for this guy. Fuck ! Don’t tell me it is going to be one of the Royal Family ? I don’t want to be sticking my finger up Prince Philip’s ass ! That would constitute cruel and unusual punishment – for me, not him ! That lot always act like they have something up their asses anyway !
We have a basement car park, which enables our patients to come up to the lobby by elevator and not have to be seen entering from the street. Our receptionist then greets them, puts them at their ease and shows them into my office. She has come in today to greet Mr Special, but I have told her that she can go home after. No need for two of us to waste our Saturday !
There are none of the usual technicians here, but I am able to operate the equipment to carry out all the tests, so it will just be me and him. I already heartily dislike him before we have even met and just want him to wobble in and get this over with !
I am really not happy that he arrives half an hour late, so when Carol knocks on the door and announces him, I rudely refuse to look up from my desk.
Glancing at the clipboard, she has thrust in front of me, I notice the name, which is vaguely familiar, then, when the implications strike me, I can’t resist a snigger,
“So, Mr Bean, my name is Dr Mortensen. Please go behind the screen and undress, if you can mange that without entangling yourself in your pants and falling over.”
Pleased with my joke, I look up to meet the most stunning and pissed off pair of green eyes I have ever seen. My mouth has suddenly gone very dry.
I now fully recognise the name, as he is an actor I have seen in several movies, usually playing a most effective baddie, and using just the expression he currently has fixed on me. Before he moves in to rip my head off, I say,
“So I believe you are here for our Premier Service….”
“Premier ? Don’t mention that fuckin’ word to me !”
This is not going well at all !
Sean
I have never liked to be told what to do, well at least in private life that is. Of course, it’s different when I work. I don't mind letting a capable director tell me what to do.
It’s not the first time Paul and I have disagreed, but never before has he forced me into something like this. The traffic on the way home is even worse, and I am practically fuming when I finally get home.
I am very much tempted to start and finish a new bottle of whiskey, but I know I will have to go to that examination and they’ll probably take urine tests. I don’t want to give no fucking doctor a reason to lecture me.
So I take a bottle of water out of the fridge, deciding against beer, knowing very well I won’t be able to keep it to only one.
All in all it’s not making me feel any better. ‘A full examination’ Paul said, what the hell does that mean ? The last time I saw a doctor was in India. He gave me pills to fight the Delhi-belly, and some more to fight the pain in my back and that was it.
I pick up the card I’ve thrown on the coffee table and frown when I read the time and place. Fuck it !
Luckily the Saturday morning traffic is not as bad as what I was confronted with yesterday, but I am still pissed off. I stuck to the water only rule last night, and even I could see I looked a bit better this morning.
Which only proves I’ll be all right when I am working again and cutting down on drinking. I don’t need some posh doctor examining me.
Anyway, I still have a headache, but I know I have Paul to blame, for twisting my arm like that.
I left home late, deciding to let them wait for me a little. There’s no harm in that, and I smoke a slow cigarette in the car park before I take the elevator up.
The girl behind the reception desk smiles at me when introducing herself, and I grumble my name, wanting to get it over with. She stands up and walks me to a door, knocks on it, and announces me, after opening it.
The bloke is sitting behind a desk, obviously refusing to look up. In a sudden flashback, I see the Head Teacher of my school days, playing the same trick on me when I had been bad again.
Well, I am no schoolboy, and this guy’s probably being paid more than sufficiently for doing this, so he had better behave.
He casts a glance at the clipboard and then finally looks up. I’ve never seen a posh doctor looking like that, his hair is unruly and there’s something very much unpolished about him. Just like his manners, I remind myself.
I’ve been to the US often enough to recognize the accent with the very first word he speaks.
“So, Mr Bean, my name is Dr Mortensen. Please go behind the screen and undress, if you can mange that without entangling yourself in your pants and falling over.”
Who the fuck does this bloke think he is ? I've had it with those Mr. Bean jokes, and this must be the most inappropriate I've ever heard !
He looks up and pales a little when he sees the look on my face.
“So I believe you are here for our Premier Service….”
That’s enough to get me started again..
“Premier ? Don’t mention that fuckin’ word to me !”
Is he mocking me ? Is there something funny about the Blades going down ? I would like to punch him around a little. I am sure it would make me feel better if I could make him suffer. The thought of Paul and the new project keeps me from it, but only just.
He makes a gesture, as if to put out his hand, but pulls it back hastily. He asks me tentatively to sit down and answer some questions.
I grumble my answers in the heaviest Sheffield accent I can manage, knowing very well it won’t be easy for him to understand.
Well Dr. Mortensen, that’s life ! I am certainly not here to make things easy for you.
Viggo
Shit ! Talk about getting off on the wrong foot !
I feel kind of bad, because I was rude at the beginning, which was really not like me and very unprofessional. I also made a bad joke, which he has obviously heard hundreds of times, so I don’t blame him for glaring at me.
But I thought my next line was pretty innocuous, yet he snarled at me and from the body language, he would very much like to hit me right now.
I want to put my hand out and calm him, but I think that if I touch him, he will really erupt, so I don’t.
He is making no move to go and undress, so I decide on the questionnaire next and hope that he will sit and calm down. From the way the veins are standing out in his neck, I figure that it won’t be a good idea to take his blood pressure just yet.
Surprisingly, he does sit, but continues to look at me like a lion on a diet meeting his first gazelle in a fortnight. I reflect on the irony of the fact that there I was, longing for a reasonably attractive person to walk through the door and he is it, but he hates me on sight.
More than reasonably attractive, in fact. He’s actually quite hot, even pissed off. He has a very attractive deep voice, with a Northern accent and as I start to go through the questions, I am aware that he is not only answering in monosyllables, where possible, but making his accent as thick as he can.
As we go the route from “Do you suffer from breathlessness” and “Do you have any pains in your chest and legs” through “Are you thirsty all the time “ and “Do you consume large amounts of saturated fats ?”, I start to feel my own anger rising.
He sneers his answers, clearly hoping that I won’t understand and will ask him to repeat them, but I am pretty good at understanding accents, having lived all over the world and speaking several languages and anyway, I know what most of the answers are going to be.
I am too experienced at this not to recognize somebody, who drinks and smokes too much, even if his ill temper didn’t give it away.
But who the fuck does he think he is ? I am trying to do my job here and ultimately the aim is to help people like him improve their quality of life and not suffer premature death. Just because he is Mr Hotshot Actor, he thinks he can treat me like shit !
To the saturated fats question, he growls,
“Obviously, comin’ from the North ah live on chip butties, beer and slabs o’ lard. “
“Well, Mr Bean, as we Americans are all suckers for regional stereotypes, I would expect nothing less, although we will have to see, whether we can persuade you to toss the odd green vegetable in there. I assume you are familiar with the concept ? Unless, of course, you actively WANT a heart attack ?”
He looks down and mumbles something really incomprehensible in reply. Okay, asshole, I am really going to enjoy the next one,
“Do you have erection problems ?”
Green eyes snap up at me, he almost rises from the chair, and he is so indignant that he is almost spluttering.
“What d’yer mean, yer cheeky bastard. ‘Course ah don’t. Ah’ve never had any trouble in that direction ! What d’yer want? Testimonials ? ”
Heh heh ! Scored a hit with that one ! Touched a raw nerve, I think, so I press my advantage,
“Well, Mr Bean, a simple ‘No’ would have sufficed. Your aggressive reaction leads me to conclude that maybe you are being less than 100% honest about that. You know, we cannot help you here unless you are totally frank with us. “
I am taking advantage of the fact that a very substantial desk is between us, for my protection, but his reaction surprises me, as he blushes and looks down at his lap, where he is twisting his hands – rather beautiful, sensitive hands, I notice.
Suddenly, he looks vulnerable and I regret my urge to yank his chain.
I am being an asshole and now I feel bad.
“Look, Mr Bean, I am sorry that we seem to have started this interview badly. I apologize for my rude and unprofessional behaviour, but you need to meet me halfway. I really think that you have some worrying signs and we do want to help you. Can we please start over ?”
Sean
He manages to keep his face blank for quite a while, and he seems to understand me, despite the accent, so I poke him a little bit more. The saturated fats question is so predictable, it’s the talk of the year on dinner tables in Los Angeles. They’re all on speed or cocaine, but worrying about saturated fats.
So I give him the answer he probably expects, and watch his reaction. I have clearly managed to piss him off and he ends up asking me if I actively want a heart-attack.
I look down, realizing that I am being a prick and behaving like a child, when he suddenly snaps out to me, asking if I have erection problems. Anger makes me jump up again, and I almost stumble over my words, I mean even if I have, what kind of question is that ?
His response about me being aggressive, giving him the feeling that I am lying, makes me blush because, well, I haven’t been totally honest. I don’t know if I really having erection problems, because I haven’t tried sex for a substantial time now. I just don’t feel like it, and it worries me.
I have always loved women, and always enjoyed having sex. I’ve dated girls considerably younger than I am for the last few years, and felt very good about it, nice young blondes, good sex and no strings. That’s how they like it and who am I to complain ? It’s better than the marrying and divorcing thing. I’ve been there more than once.
I am ashamed now about my behaviour, and even more when he offers his apologies. Of course I realize I didn’t even give him a chance, and he is trying to help me. So when he asks me if we can please start again, I look up and nod.
“I am sorry I was such a prick, doctor, I shouldn’t have taken my foul mood out on you. And as to your question, well, I’ve seem to have lost the appetite for sex lately. But I am quite sure I will be all right once I get back to work. There has been quite a long time between projects, and I am somehow unable to bring order and discipline to my life at the moment. I just need to work.”
He listens to me, his face sympathetic, his blue eyes friendly. It suddenly strikes me he’s a handsome man, and he has the sort of face that could easily break women’s hearts. I’ve seen enough in my profession to recognize beauty, I am sure he would make a great doctor in one of those hospital soaps.
I roll up my sleeve willingly, when he says he wants to take my blood pressure. Even though I still want it over with, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be, and this bloke is quite nice really, I wouldn’t mind drinking a pint with him.
He doesn’t give me shit like other doctors do, but just tells me straight, that my blood pressure is just a little too high, nothing to really be concerned about, but too high nevertheless.
“It could be my bad behaviour pushing it up,” he says with a lopsided but nice smile, and I feel myself smiling back.
So, erm Mr. Bean..”
“Would you mind calling me Sean ? I am not to keen on being called Mr. Bean, as you might have noticed. “
“Okay Sean, well if you would go behind the screens and remove your underpants for me please. There’s a gown you can put on.”
I sit and stare at him, trying to get the message through. Remove my underpants ? What the fuck for, but before I can even ask, I know the answer and I feel blood rushing to my face. What can I do, but stand up and get behind that screen ? And why do I have the distinct feeling he’s laughing at me ?
I quickly shed my pants and boxers, put on the gown and sit hastily on the table. I almost laugh when I think about me and him having a pint together and instead he’s gonna... gonna, yeah what is he gonna do exactly ?
Summary: Sean is forced to pay a visit to the doctor, and it's not what he'd expected.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: Getting to the Bottom of ThingsChapters: 5 Completed: Yes
Word count: 20462 Read: 4905
Published: 05 Aug 2009 Updated: 05 Aug 2009