Dr. Infatuated

1.1

"So, you're a military man, eh? What brings you all the way up here to Nowhere town? No bases around here, last I checked."

Alec's brow twitched at the mention of his job, and he averted his eyes for a fraction of a second. "No, there aren't."

Dr. Palmer studied his new patient for a few heavy seconds. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"Twelve weeks," he replied in monotone. "At least."

"Hm. Alright. So, what brings you in today?"

"Haven't had a physical this year," Alec said. "Just thought I'd get it done."

The doctor turned on the stool to face the laptop on the counter. "That's definitely something we can do. So, tell me about your lifestyle-"

Dr. Palmer listened with barely-contained enthusiasm as Alec described his medical history and way of life. He was short and concise in his replies: yes, no, every day, three times a week-and all together, it painted a fragmented portrait of an extremely lonely, tortured young man; one that had traveled thousands of miles from home and isolated himself in the family's cottage, clearly in a depressive trend. He worked out every day to maintain his physique, went to the bar sometimes, but by all appearances, was brooding and troubled from his time spent overseas.

"Okay. Hop up on the table for me, Alec. And please remove your shirt."

Alec promptly pulled the tight grey shirt off over his head, and Dr. Palmer had to consciously stifle himself when he exposed his solid, sculpted torso-he abruptly turned his attention to adjusting the table so that Alec would be sitting upright.

"Lean back and relax," he instructed over the loud rip of a blood pressure cuff. Alec readily offered his left arm, then a finger on the opposite hand when prompted by the pulse oximeter. "I'm going to start by getting some vital signs."

The wheeled monitor began to beep out Alec's resting rate-consistent around fifty-four beats per minute-and the doctor equipped his stethoscope to listen to the blood rushing in his arm.

His touch was firm yet gentle as he held the bell to his elbow. Alec stared at the wall straight ahead-he was struck by this, but he repressed it so quickly and thoroughly that it wasn't even a conscious thought.

The cuff released with a hiss, and the monitor read 126/79. Dr. Palmer nodded in silent approval and slipped the stethoscope into his coat pocket.

"Is your heart rate always this slow?" he tapped the number when it dipped to 49 BPM.

"Yeah. All the working out, I imagine."

"Well, keep it up." He absently left the cuff on and relaxed the incline of the table, then replaced the stethoscope in his ears. "I'm going to have a listen now, alright?"

He pressed the bell firm into the healthy layer of fat that protected his large pectoral muscles-watching how stone-faced Alec remained in his peripheral vision-and studied his aortic valve snapping open and shut. When he lingered on it for a little too long, Alec adjusted his arm to fidget quietly with the seam at his hip, and the doctor next settled the diaphragm over the pulmonic valve.

Buh-dup... buh-dup... buh-dup...

Dr. Palmer carefully inched down along his sternum to the next auscultation landmark and continued to admire his chest. Alec's nervousness and vulnerability began to show on his face and in his ever-so-slightly elevated respiratory rate as the examination went on, and he privately relished in it when Alec's pump spat out a PVC-as if in response to the stethoscope lightly grazing his nipple as he listened to the mitral valve.

Alec flushed.

Dr. Palmer pretended not to notice. "Does that happen often?"

"Oh, uh-the skip?" Alec shifted and rattled the paper on the table. "Sometimes...?"

The doctor offered a gentle smile. If Alec had been looking directly at him, he might have seen a glint of something dark behind his eyes. "You don't need to feel embarrassed. How often is sometimes? Every day, every week?"

He considered. "A few times a day, I guess."

"You drink a lot of coffee?"

Alec scoffed. "Well, yeah."

"Heh." He left it at that, for now. "Do you get enough sleep at night?"

He went quiet then, and stifled a sigh.

"I haven't been sleeping well since getting back from my combat tour," he admitted in a small, monotone voice. He knew the risks of being open about this-but he'd already mostly convinced himself to retire from the military anyway, and something about Dr. Palmer's fatherly disposition inspired trust in the soon-to-be veteran.

The doctor's face took on a solemn tightness.

"Son, that's a very common thing in soldiers returning from active warzones. You have nothing to feel ashamed about. Absolutely nothing." He clapped him on the shoulder when Alec looked away. He then put the stethoscope in his ears; motioned for him to relax. "Alright? We'll talk options afterward, if you like." He pressed the bell near Alec's right clavicle. "Now, take a nice deep breath in..."

Alec heaved in a breath, then blew it out when prompted.

"Perfect. Breathe just like that every time I move my stethoscope, okay?"

He nodded and did as instructed; leaned forward when it came time for the posterior auscultation, and again leaned back into the table when he was finished.

"Your lungs sound great," Dr. Palmer reassured him. "I'm just going to adjust the table so you're lying flat for a couple minutes while I examine your abdomen."

Alec stared at the ceiling tiles while he pressed his fingers deep into his belly. He tried to blank his mind-it was going places he didn't want to think about. He flinched when the doctor brushed the stethoscope over a ticklish spot and zeroed in on a weird brown stain on the speckled beige tile above-he wondered what it was, then just as quickly realized that he didn't want to know.

He submitted to the rest of the physical with the same detachment he came in with, but it veered more and more into dissociation as Dr. Palmer's practiced, gentle hands examined his body. He continued to ask questions throughout, and Alec soon found himself paying more attention to how his voice was somehow both authoritative and undeniably soft at the same time, rather than the actual words he was saying.

"Well, overall, I'd say you're in great health," the doctor tapped away in a markedly conclusive fashion on his laptop. "I'm just the slightest bit concerned about your heart, though. Would you mind coming in for an ECG on Wednesday?"

So soon? Alec thought. "Really? Here? I thought they usually did those at the hospital."

"Usually, you'd be correct," he explained without looking away from the screen. "But our little hospital is already over capacity in every damned regard. My mother-the original Dr. Palmer-" he said with a laugh, "is a venerated cardiologist. I know I'm biased, but really, she's fantastic."

He nodded. "Alright. Yeah, my schedule is free on Wednesday."

"Great. How about nine A.M.? Too early for you?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Alright-I'll see you then. And try to cut back on the coffee, hey?"