Really Doing Me a Solid Here

There were several things Oliver put off in favor of burying himself in his work. Indulging in his vices, mainly, but mundane things as well. Going to the doctor was one of them; he just pushed through whatever ailed him. Luckily, he didn't get anything serious during his workaholic streak.

Ever since he came to his senses and started letting himself live outside of his job, he scheduled regular doctor appointments and at least somewhat looked after his health. 

He had forgotten what it was like to feel well-rested. Not as good as his exhausted self prayed for, but much better than how he used to be.

Oliver stepped through the automatic doorway of Burrowgatory Hill Hospital and looked around for the pharmacy. His last doctor's visit, they prescribed him some medication for a minor issue.

Oh, good! Seemed like he chose the correct entrance; the pharmacy was just to the left. What was less good, though, was that there was no one at the counter.

Groaning, he rubbed his forehead, feeling the ugly bloom of a headache coming on. He should've known not to come in at sundown, but he’d forgotten how soon pharmacies tended to close.

He stood at the counter anyway, trying to see if he could squeeze a little bit of luck out of this trip.

…And it seemed that fate did have a few drops to spare. A hospital employee, labcoat with the nametag ‘Timothy’ billowing as he ran, darted here and there throughout the room and the hallway connecting it to the rest of the hospital. He was swearing under his shallow breath as he gathered various items and papers, and his sweat was causing him to have to push up his glasses every five seconds.

Oliver knew so painfully well what the poor guy was going through. That was the pre-rush scramble. Every evening before the nightclub he worked at opened, Oliver had to do the exact same thing to make sure everything was in order before patrons started rolling in. 

The fact that a hospital would have the same thing was weird, and maybe a little concerning, but the last thing Oliver wanted to do was pry. He certainly wouldn't want to be bothered in the middle of preparing. So, he turned to leave-

“Oh—shit—sorry, didn't see you,” Timothy called out to him, probably oblivious to the fact that Oliver definitely heard him cussing in frustration over his shoulder. “Did you need to pick something up?”

With a polite smile, Oliver gave a little wave of dismissal. “No, no! Or, uh… yes, but! You seem to have a lot on your hands, a-and the pharmacy’s probably closed anyway, right? I’ll just come back… tomorrow…?”

Oliver's words petered out as he watched Timothy go behind the pharmacy counter anyway. The hospital worker gave the computer’s mouse a frantic wiggle to wake it up.

“Yep, just as I thought. Pharmacists forgot to log off at the end of their shift. Admin’s been on their ass about it recently.” He spoke quickly, still clearly in a hurry, but his tone was getting chummier. He must've not had anyone to chat with in a while. “I can get your prescription for you.”

“Th-thanks…!” Oliver replied, trying to rub the guilt off the back of his neck. Sheepishly, he gave Timothy his identifying information to retrieve the prescription before he realized something. “Wait. So, uh… you're not a pharmacist???”

Not looking away from the screen, Timothy lifted a finger off of the mouse. “No, but… I’m preeeeetty sure I was cross-trained in this at some point. Plus, this system is very similar to what we have over at the blood bank. It’ll be fine.”

…Oliver was just going to have to trust that. This guy was doing him a huge favor. He just needed to make sure the prescription was correct before leaving.

There was just one last thing on his mind.

“Why are you doing this for me? Aren't you in a huge hurry?”

Timothy paused and looked at Oliver. A good few beats passed as he stared. Finally, after a quick sigh, he returned to navigating the computer. “I dunno. I don't make a habit of doing things unless I have to. Maybe it's because you look as tired as I do. Sense of kinship, or something.”

Oliver didn't respond. Subconsciously, his hand raised to touch his face. He still looked tired? Were the weeks of decent sleep not enough? Was he so miserable and deprived before that he could never hope to recover? Was he not sleeping long enough? Was he doing it wrong? Was he doing everything wrong?

The gluttony succubun’s voracious thoughts were interrupted by Timothy placing a paper bag on the counter.

“Here's your stuff. Have a good night, man.” Getting back into his scramble, Timothy snatched up all the miscellaneous things he was holding earlier and began to leave the pharmacy counter. “I know I sure won't.”

“Do you need any help?” Oliver called after the other succubun.

…He would've asked himself why he said that if he didn't already know the answer. It was bad habit for him to seek something productive to do whenever he got stressed out.

Timothy froze at the offer, then walked backwards and turned to face Oliver. “...You sure?”

There was no way Oliver could rescind the offer. It would have been too cruel to tease Timothy like that. He said what he said, and he had to take responsibility.

“Yeah, if that's allowed,” Oliver squeaked out as his throat tried to push down the words.

“Not reeeeeally allowed, nah, but no one checks this kinda stuff. Some of the nurses and doctors like to bring in their partners and do roleplay.”

In the hospital??!??!?!!!!??

“O…kay…” Trying not to think too hard about it, Oliver accepted a clipboard Timothy handed to him and looked over the top document. “So, uh… what exactly do you need me to do?”

The sloth succubun mentally went over all the tasks that need to be done, which quickly morphed his tired face into an exhausted one.

“How about we get to the blood bank first, and I just give you the first doable task I see?”

Far more disorganized than Oliver would prefer, but sure. On his nod, the two headed down one of the hallways to the blood bank.

The moment the door swung open, Timothy caught sight of the supply shelves and cabinets. “Ah. Here's something.” He turned to Oliver and flipped the papers on the clipboard to an inventory sheet. “Mind taking stock of everything here? Jot down if anything expires in the next couple of months, too. Need to know if I should put in an order request for anything before the end of the week.”

“No problem.” Oliver did this all the time at work with the liquor and ingredient supply. “I’ll let you know when I'm done.”

A good few minutes passed, Oliver taking stock while Timothy took care of various preparations, before the first visitor entered.

It was only then did the question dawn on Oliver:
Why would there be a rush at a blood bank, and during nighttime specifically?

Slowly, hesistantly… Oliver looked over his shoulder.

Red eyes meeting each other as Timothy slid a blood pack across the counter. A shared fanged courtesy smile as they superficially bid each other a nice night. Bat wings fluttering with excitement as the visitor looked down at the blood pack.

Vampires. The blood bank sold blood to vampires! And Timothy was a vampire, too! Oliver didn't notice it before; many succubuns had fangs, and even Oliver himself had red eyes. Also, from what he'd heard, red eyes just seemed to be common, not ubiquitous, amongst vampires. Still, he mentally kicked himself a bit for not realizing it sooner.

Once the visitor left the building, Timothy turned to Oliver with grim humor behind his smile. “They're starting to trickle in. Get ready.”

Oh, Oliver did not like the sound of that in this context. “Ah… Am I gonna be safe…??”

The smile on the vampire’s face sunk to a cautious and confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Shaking a bit, Oliver tapped his teeth and then pointed at his neck.

“Ohhh boy. Okay,” Timothy sighed, “Listen, man. People come here ‘cause they're thirsty for blood, sure. I get why you're worried. But no one's gonna crawl over the counter and get you. That's way too much work. Plus, no one wants heat from Lady Calla. You're fine.”

Once again, Oliver was going to have to trust that. Nodding to himself, he turned back to his task. “...Okay.”

“Just be glad I was the one you asked. Not everyone is as patient about assumptions like that,” Timothy parted as he also returned to what he was doing before.

As Timothy continued to service visitors, Oliver completed a variety of tasks. Inventory, document shredding, cleaning up the aftermath of an eager newbie vampire biting hard into their blood pack, and so on.

Eventually, the undead rush died down, and the two succubuns took their opportunity to have a breather.

“Morning shift guy will be in soon,” Timothy said as he looked out the window. Light was just barely starting to bloom in. “You can go if you want. I can handle it from here.”

Avoiding eye contact, Oliver grabbed his stuff. “...Sounds good. And, uh, sorry. For what I said earlier. Asking whether I was safe, y’know.”

Timothy gave a quick shrug and a smile. “It's whatever, man. I know you're an alright guy. Thanks for helping me out.”

With a smile back and a nod, Oliver said his farewell and headed out of the hospital. As he walked home, exhaustion started to wash over him. It was familiar and unwelcome; he had never wanted to feel this way again. But he didn't regret helping Timothy out. It was what his old, overworked self would have wanted to receive.

He’d just have to sneak in a nap during his actual shift.