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Ponk peels off and discards his latex gloves before he enters the door, and peers into the room where Skeppy is still out cold. The clinic’s recovery room is far from hospital-grade, but it feels much less impersonal; Skeppy sleeps in a bed with a soft mattress and a thick duvet and pillows that don’t match, while Bad sits in an armchair next to the bed. It must be a nice armchair, because even a worrywart like Bad appears to be dozing off in it.
“How has he been?” Ponk asks.
Bad startles. “Just… sleeping, for now,” Bad replies.
“Well, he’ll be waking up any minute now. He might still be a little loopy from the anesthesia, so don’t expect any coherent conversation, but he’s been a model patient, he’ll be alright,” Ponk reassures, and it appears to ease some of the apprehension in Bad’s face. “I’ll grab some water for him, be right back.” Ponk turns to leave, but as she does, she hears stirring, and both her and Bad turn to the bed, where Skeppy is waking.
“H… Hello?” Skeppy asks, a little slurred. He blinks slowly. “Whasgoinon?”
“Skeppy?” Bad says, his voice full of worry. “Are you waking up?” The answer is obvious, but Ponk doesn’t fault him for being a little irrational at this moment. “You had surgery, Skeppy, they took out your appendix. You’re coming out of anesthesia now.”
Skeppy smacks his lips, slowly. He doesn’t acknowledge the barrage of information from Bad, but turns his head, presumably to locate the source of the voice. When his gaze lands on Bad, his eyes widen, almost comically, and Ponk stifles a laugh.
“Whoa.” Skeppy says, wondering. “Are you… an angel? Am I dead?”
“No, Skeppy--” Bad corrects, or tries to correct, before getting cut off.
“Wait, you look more like a demon.”
“Skeppy--”
Skeppy stares a little harder at Bad, scrutinizing. “But nothing this beautiful exists in hell. So this must be heaven,” he concludes. “Or maybe purgatory?”
“Skeppy!” Bad catches Ponk’s gaze, looking a little embarrassed and a little like he’s pleading for help. Ponk shrugs. Bad sighs and turns back to Skeppy. “You are not dead, you muffinhead. And I’m Bad, Badboyhalo.”
“Oh,” Skeppy says. Ponk can see the information churn, slow like butter, through Skeppy’s brain. “Alright.” He swallows. “My mouth is really dry.”
Before Skeppy can jump to any more wild conclusions, Ponk jumps in with a, “Let me get you some water,” and heads down the hall as fast as she can. She doesn’t want to miss any more of this free entertainment than she has to.
When he returns, Bad is leaning in a little closer to Skeppy, explaining the surgery again. Skeppy is silent, looking a little less disoriented, and he openly stares at Bad with the most enamored expression Ponk’s ever seen.
“Here,” Ponk interrupts, handing Bad the bottle of water, “have him drink this. I’ve got a feeling that he’s more likely to drink it if you’re the one helping him.”
Bad takes the bottle. While he’s unscrewing the cap, Skeppy says, “Bad. Badboyhalo,” like he’s savoring each syllable of Bad’s name, like it’s something new and novel, “You’ve got the prettiest eyes. All… glowy and big and nice.”
“Thank you,” Bad says, amused. He appears to be getting used to Anesthesia’d Skeppy. “Can you drink this water for me?”
“Anything for you,” Skeppy purrs. Ponk has a pretty high threshold for what they consider excessive displays of affection, but wow if Skeppy isn’t cutting it close. Skeppy takes the bottle, and tries to drink in a way Ponk can only describe as seductively. Unfortunately, his lack of coordination means that half of the bottle ends up leaking out of the corners of Skeppy’s mouth and spilling over his shirt and the pillows. Ponk makes a mental note to wash the sheets and hands Bad a towel.
“Sorry,” Skeppy says. “I’m making you clean all this up.”
“It’s alright,” Bad smiles softly, “I don’t mind.”
“Wow,” Skeppy remarks, “if you’re a demon, you’re the nicest one I’ve ever met.”
“I get that a lot,” Bad replies, as he begins to pat with the towel at the pillows by Skeppy’s head.
Skeppy follows Bad’s hand with his eyes while Bad gently wipes the water from his face, going cross-eyed when Bad wipes his nose.
As Bad pulls away, Skeppy catches a glimpse of the wedding ring on Bad’s finger and gasps loudly. Both Ponk and Bad jump. Skeppy’s blissful expression morphs into one of horror.
“You’re married?” Skeppy groans. ”I should’ve known you were too perfect to be single.”
“No, Skeppy, look,” Bad points to Skeppy’s hand, where a matching band is on his ring finger.
It has the opposite effect from what Bad is aiming for. “I’m married too?” Skeppy cries. “Oh, no. I’ve been hitting on the gorgeous demon nurse and I’m already married. I’m evil. I’m a terrible person. My husband is going to kill me.” He puts a hand to his forehead, missing a bit and hitting himself square in the face instead.
“Skeppy,” Bad begins, slowly and with suppressed laughter, “who do you think your husband is?”
“I, uh… I don’t.” This stumps Skeppy. “I dunno,” he says, his voice muffled by his own hand, which rests on his face.
“I’m not a nurse, Skeppy,” Bad says, because of course he would try to get Skeppy to figure this out in the most roundabout way ever, “And these rings,” Bad takes Skeppy’s left hand off his face and shows him both the rings next to each other, “they match.”
Silence falls in the room. If Ponk listens closely, he can practically hear the puzzle pieces clicking together inside Skeppy’s brain.
“So… you’re my husband?” Skeppy asks.
“Yeah,” Bad confirms.
“And we’re married? You? Married me?”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa,” Skeppy laughs, amazed. “Whoa,” he repeats, softer. Bad laughs too, and Ponk feels a little uncomfortable, like he’s intruding on a private moment. He speaks before the pair can continue any further.
“He seems to be recovering well, aside from the-- well, the apparent memory loss, but that’s typical with stuff like this. I’ll send him home with a couple painkillers. If he still doesn’t remember things after a few hours, we’ll see what we can do, but I think he’ll be fine,” Ponk explains. He directs all of his instructions at Bad, because Skeppy is currently staring at the ceiling in awe.
“Thank you, Ponk.” Ponk nods, and leaves the room to give them some privacy before they go. As the door closes behind him, he sees Bad turn to Skeppy. “Think you’re ready for me to take you home?”
“We live together!?” Skeppy exclaims, and with a smile, Ponk closes the door on their conversation. Sam is going to love hearing about this one.