[M]Too Old for a Pediatrician [Willem]

A-Achoo!

That must have been the tenth sneeze in the span of a half hour- definately not good. Really not good and to make things worse, he was on the other side of the hospital from Kirkland's office- what if he couldn't get there in time? He was practically jogging through the hall as he tried to make for the elevator- damn children getting him sick- he ought to sue their parents for taking such poor care of them.

And that's when he found himself smack in the chest of one, very tall, and very spikey-haired doctor. He paused for a moment, letting himself regain his composure before pulling back and glancing up at the Dutch man, smiling weakly up at him. "A-Ah... doctor Jansen-" he murmured, about to apologize for the whole situation before--

A-achoo!

God kill just kill me now.

The reason he hadn't noticed that he was in the exact same path as another person probably had less to do with the fact it appeared he was looking through some scribbled notes as it was that he was more focused on one of his favorite songs. This level of distraction is probably why he was visibly startled when he stopped in his tracks, looking down to spot slightly wavy golden locks.

"...Gezondheid."

Being it was a hospital, of course he was used to hearing sneezes from everywhere. As he closed his notepad and slipped it into one of his large white pockets however, he began to frown as he realized that the young man who'd ran into him was rather a part of the staff as well. Taking a few steps back, he looked the other up and down discreetly. He couldn't put his finger quite on the name by memory, but thank goodness for name tags.

"...Bonnefoy. Are you ill?"

He was already prepared to reprimand the Frenchman.

_{(ooc: 'gezondheid' is the Dutch equivalent of Gesundheit jsyk ;w;~)}

His hand still over his nose and mouth, Francis felt himself pale slightly as he slowly nodded. There was a weak smile hiding under his hand, but it was quickly put away as he sneezed again, eyes slightly irritated. "A-Ah... merde-" he grumbled quietly. "I... I think- I am- I was... just going to see Kirkland..."

Groaning quietly, Francis pulled out a tissue from his back pocket, blowing his nose and taking a few steps back. "I-I think it might be something serious-"

Of course, everything was serious with the Frenchman. But did the rest of the hospital know?

_{To be honest he wasn't sure.}

Rising an eyebrow, he could already tell that the other man probably had a simple cold or nothing more serious than a sinus infection most likely. Which any chance of infection, as slight as it could be, meant that it would be entirely unethical to let someone go around spreading their germs all over a hospital of all places.

"No. You're not anymore." Willem muttered, reaching out a hand to press the back of his fingers briefly against the blonde's forehead. He seemed a bit warm, although it could have been from his apparent distress. "Come on to my office. I have some time, I'll check you out and then you need to go home."

The Dutchman stressed the last part of his sentence, pulling his hand away.

"But... ah- don't you normally work with children?" Francis asked quietly, sniffing and blinking as he started to follow Doctor Jansen towards his office, hesitating a bit. Sure, it was nice to have a doctor look after him or at least give him a check up, but this Dutch man always made him a little wary.

None the less, he went with Willem without much of a protest, still holding his tissue to his nose just in case. He sneezed a few more times rapid fire, groaning again.

Damn nose...

"A medical doctor is still a medical doctor. You're basically only changing the size." He murmured, leading him down the hall a bit further to where his office was situated. When the other continued to sneeze, he sighed, looking down at him.

"Gezondheid. Is the sneezing the only thing going on?"

Reaching his office he opened the door and stepped inside, pausing a moment to let mister Bonnefoy catch up. He fiddled idly with the stethoscope around his neck, pretty certain he had everything for at least a basic checkup in his office. "Go ahead and take a seat."

"A-Ah... there's been... pressure in my sinuses and my eyes..." Francis murmured as he made his way over towards the seat, sitting down and looking back up at Willem, rubbing his nose again which had managed to turn slightly red by now. "I really just should request to stop working with children... they don't know how to cover their noses when they sneeze and then they wipe their germs on you and- guh..."

A shiver ran down Francis' spine and he slumped slightly in the chair, looking down at his lap. The office felt different from Kirkland's that constantly had papers and books littering the desk. He shifted slightly, sniffling quietly.

It felt weird. Almost like how one would cheat on their spouse.

Did that mean-

Naw.

He always liked to keep his office clean, something that was important to him since it wasn't that big anyways and the emptiness besides a desk, a few chairs and two bookshelves helped it seem bigger. There weren't even any personal effects anywhere, if you didn't count some Dutch literature on the shelves. Closing his door and heading around to the other side of his desk, he pulled open a drawer to grab an otoscope and disposable speculum.

"You'll have to get used to them sooner or later. Just wash your hands more often." Willem casually suggested, heading back over to the Frenchmen. He leaned down, delicately brushing a bit of the soft blonde hair away from his ears so he could flick the otoscope on and check just to make sure.

After a moment he moved to Francis' other side, again pushing his hair aside to check. He didn't seem to have ear infections at least, that much was a good think. Crouching still, he took off the disposible piece to throw it to the trashcan. "Looks fine." Turning back to Francis, he stared at him for a moment.

"...You're the one supposed to be learning, right? Tell me what you think it is."

"I was my hands... quite a lot already," Francis murmured, blinking back at Willem as the dutchman examined him. "I always carry hand sanitizer as well... And I try to stay away from the more... contagious ones but usually the nurses make me take care of them because I do not want to."

He squirmed slightly, sneezing again and shaking his head. If he knew what this was why would he have been going to Arthur? It could be life threatening and you were suppose to self diagnose! "I... really do not know- I just... well I 'ave been sniffling and sneezing like this all day out of the blue and it won't stop!"

The Frenchman looked up with pleading blue eyes at Willem. "S'il vous plait doctor Jansen- I'm too young to die!"

"Hm. You could always be more careful, still. The more you work with them, the more you'll build up a resistence."

He didn't really have much advice beyond that. After so long of working with kids, it had been a good long while since he ever came down with even a cold. Tapping the otoscoope against his palm, he stared calmly at the other, listening almost with amusement at his overdrawn pleas.

"Reposer." He muttered quickly in French, shaking his head. "You're not going to die. Are you allergic to pollen by any chance? Been seeing a lot of that lately."

Francis was about to mention the fact that he didn't want to get used to snot-nosed children and broken bones when a certain tone hit his ears that he hadn't heard spoken by anything but his parents in years.

"Was... that French?" he questioned, fore-going any other question or comment the doctor had asked. "You speak it?"

This was definately a good sign. A very good one- he almost completely forgot about his stuffy nose and sneezing, well almost. Until he sneezed again.

A look of slight confusion crossed his face when that was all Francis commented on, furrowing his brow as he began to slightly nod. After muttering yet another 'gezondheid', he reached up to set the scope on his desk before resting his arms across his knees.

"Uh... ...oui. J'ai appris le français à l'école." If he remembered correctly, he'd just informed the other man that he learned it in school. Having next to no use for the language, his pronunciation was a bit rusty and he wouldn't blame the other for accusing him of completely butchering the language.

"I just assumed you did as well because... ...well. Nevermind. Pollen. I'd say it's probably what's agitating you so much." He stood back up, resting both hands on his desk to lean back against it. "We'll all die someday but I wouldn't say you need to worry about it now."

[Okay so fessing up time I don't speak French. Italics are French /death/]

"Yes, I know we all die one day, I just do not want to before I see the... finer things in like, don't you agree?" Francis found himself standing up, eyeing Willem with a certain look in his eye and chuckling to himself. It was odd how quickly he managed to forget about his near-death panic when other things were involved.

Quirking his head, the Frenchman leaned on the desk next to the doctor, not getting to close but definately withen any comfort zone the man might have, testing him. "It's been ages since I've met anyone that can speak French. You seem a little rusty but... Perhaps I could help fix that hm?"

_{(ooc: awesome because I don't either! |D Italics is French it is then~)}

"Hn... ...well, you seem better, don't you? Even fine things eventually crumble away." It seemed a bit odd to him how now, Francis had forgotten everything else. He watched him uneasily with narrowed eyes, not trying to look as intimidating as he was just studying him.

It all made a bit more sense as Francis joined him anyways, and his fingers clutched down onto the desk. Willem hesitantly allowed it, ever ready to just walk away and leave. It wasn't in his nature to be made nervous by anyone else. With a brisk chuckle, he nodded. "I don't go to France often, so I'm not... ...very well kept. Why would I need it, though?"

Perhaps if the other could come up with a good response, he'd accept.

Admittedly, Francis wasn't the least bit intimidated. He didn't get that way usually, especially when he had other... more important things on his mind. One of his hands started to make it's way down the doctor's desk, over towards Willem's arm. "My nose is still stuffed, and I am still a bit worried about it but..." he chuckled as well. "There is a more important issue that's arised."

The hand reached up finally, touching the Dutchman's carefully as Francis grinned up at him.

"And French is the language of love of course. It sounds absolutely divine when one's speaking it in the throws of passion."

"It's just allergies." Willem tried to reassure him again, not even knowing what he meant by a more important issue arising. In all honesty ever since he came to America, he hadn't exactly cared for any sort of romantic pursuits or relationships. His stubbornness tended to rather blind him from whenever anyone did hit on him.

He tilted his head down as a hand was on his, entirely unmoving. Slowly his eyes trailed up the Frenchman's arm, inspecting him carefully right up to meeting his eyes again. The grin and the statement was a bit much to ignore, although his expression stayed stoic.

"So what's the language of lust, then? I've never been in love but I've had plenty of /passion/." Willem gave no second thought to the rather crude implication, looking away as if almost in thought.

"Love and lust is a thin line don't you think?" Francis let the grin practically split his face in two as he let himself lean a little closer to Willem, licking his lower lip. At this point he could give a damn about his stuffy nose. "French could very well be both- people mix up love so much with lust."

He watched the Dutchman for a few more quiet moments, trying to shell out how exactly he was going to show the man how wonderful French did sound- Sighing quietly, he smirked as he thought of an idea, starting to pet the doctor's arm.

"Did you know that sex is supposed to clear your sinuses? And cure headaches?"

"Just both chemical processes, basically. Of course it's a thin line." He responded logically, closing his eyes and relaxing for a moment. Unable to see the grin on the other man's face, his own lips spread into a small smile at the foreign language.

Willem hadn't even much liked learning French in school. His sibling had always excelled at it more than him, and that was just good for her. Opening his eyes after he felt the blonde's hand start to stroke his arm, he tilted his head back down to respond with a quiet 'hm'.

Who the hell cared about possible sexual harassment lawsuits anyways?

In a quick bout of energy he turned towards Francis, wrapping his unoccupied arm quickly around his waist. Pulling the smaller man close against his body, he gave a small smirk. "Haven't heard of that one before..." Letting his hand wander down just enough to roughly feel the curves of the Frenchman's ass, he leaned down just enough to speak close to his ear.

"It's too bad I'm still on the clock then."

And with that, he let him go again.

In the process of contemplating the chemical processes of lust and love and how they differed- which really wasn't very much with the basic result virtually the same. At least chemically- Francis started slightly at the arm slinking around his waist, eyes snapping up to look at Willem as his lips parted slightly.

An appriciative moan had to be silenced by a bite to his lip and Francis could feel himself starting to get a little too eager just from being partially felt up by the doctor. He cursed quietly under his breath as he felt Willem pull away, reaching up and gripping the front of the doctor's coat. It wasn't just going to end that easily- especially not if the Dutchman was willing.

"Consider it... a treatment?" he muttered, risking sounding like some bad porn tape he'd watched at somepoint in his life. "Damnit Jansen... you know you want me as I do you. Just a quickie- no one will even know. We can keep it hush-"

And he certainly would be keeping it hush- there were still... many unresolved things with his mentor slash boss and he didn't want to ruin that but.

Merde Jansen wasn't bad looking either.

The little moan had been a bit much, and it was probably the only reason Willem didn't pry the Frenchman right off of him. Something in him just wanted to hear more of those sounds, shuddering to think what other noises Francis had to offer. It took him a minute, but he planted both of his hands right on Francis' hips.

It did sound a bit corny, but he'd heard worse lines before--despite they usually came from less than sober people. "Right... treatment." He murmured right back, leaning down to rest his lips against Francis'. It wasn't a kiss by any means, just a resting place for them as he held him in the almost bruising hold and spoke.

"Since we're not.. exactly acting like professionals... My name's Willem, you know."

If only it hadn't been so long, he could have thrown Francis right off out of his office. It wasn't the first time he'd ever had a thought about the other, not that it was uncommon for him to have lewd thoughts about those around him. But if the other was entirely mutual as well, what was the harm?

As he threw out any connections with wrongdoing in his mind, he finally planted a rough kiss to Francis' lips. In his mind, if there was anything a Frenchman would be able to appreciate it would be a French kiss.

Francis could feel small bruises forming under the Dutchman's fingerpads and winced just slightly, nose scrunching slightly from the pain. It wasn't that he was a weakling- he just prefered things a little more gentle before the actual- act occured and this was anything but. He had to smile though, at the offer of the Dutchman's first name and he chukled.

"Willem... it is then," he breathed against the man's lips, smirking and leaning their bodies together, his hands slipping up Willem's chest to wrap around his neck. "Feel free... to call me Francis-"

But he barely managed to get the words out, Willem's lips crushing onto his own and making him swallow whatever he would've said next. He eagerly parted his own lips and traced the slightly chapped one's with his tongue. His smirk never left- if anything just growing wider.

There was one thing he couldn't help but to think about though-

Had they even locked the door?

A bit unfortunately for any of his partners--unless they were obviously delicate and frail--Willem didn't know the meaning of gentle. There was something that felt just too nice to ignore about having another body pressed up against his own, his hands feeling free to briefly wander up the hem of his shirt.

A bit eagerly, his own tongue darted out against Francis'. It could go without saying, but for being such a quiet guy he was just as much the same while being intimate and would hardly find a reason to say his name.

Fingers dancing against the bare and pale skin of his back, he slid them down to try to lift the Frenchman. Without much effort he lifted him up, setting him onto the thankfully nearly empty desk.

"Francis, hm?" The Dutchman breathed as he pulled out of the kiss, letting almost a similar grin across his own face. "So where'd you find out about this treatment?" He still had to crane his neck down a bit to stay at an even face level, something he was sadly too used to. Letting his hands situate themselves dangerously near Francis' inner legs, he playfully lipped his bottom lip.

Thoughts quickly escaped the Frenchman as he returned the kiss just as fervently, his own hands playing at the back of Willem's hairline and trying to pull him even tighter. He shuttered at the roaming fingers across his back and arched it slightly, feeling goosebumps raise across his skin.

As he felt himself being lifted he cursed slightly, squirming on top of the desk even as his legs opened willingly. This was definately not a position they could do things quickly, or easily in- If the Dutchman had just bent him over the desk it would've been much better. And, well, kinkier.

He groaned and pulled back away from the kiss, breath coming out slightly shallower and more of a pant. "Just.... around," he whispered, grinning slightly again. "Why don't you... turn me around? It'll work better..."

That sound suspiciously like he had done this before, which, in all honesty he hadn't.

But it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it before.

The feeling of hands gracing against his neck was something that he hadn't felt for a while. He wouldn't admit that he sometimes missed the feeling of another nestled so close against him, but it made him a bit curious when Francis seemed to be wriggling around a much.

Trailing one hand up the intern's body, he lightly continued tracing them up his neck until he reached his chin. Gripping it, he found the feel of the scruff a bit coarse as he placed his thumb on Francis' bottom lip. Willem gave a small sigh out of reflex as he tried to think, running the digit along his lip.

"How will I see your lips then while you speak the 'language of love'? Up to you... I could care less whether you're on your back or on your stomach." His lack of French practice seemed to be increasingly evident, stumbling a bit through pronunciation. There wasn't much room in his mind for anything besides sex now anyways. But the suggestion brought something else to mind.

"So that's the kind of stuff doctor Kirkland teaches you, huh?..." It was less of a question as it was a statement, the hand that rested against his leg beginning to lightly fondle his front through the trousers.

Everything was perfect- just utterly divine, almost just like the scene in a good porno, gone right. Nothing could ruin this now, no nothing on earth could even ruin this one moment of just pure physical bliss with a handsome man and-

And then everything came to a screeching halt even as he felt a hand fondling him through his pants. "K-Kirkland?" he choked out, turning almost as white as a sheet as he scrambled back on the desk. Everything that had been previously silenced in his brain was down screaming at him what an idiot he was and what the fuck was he doing here when just last night he had-

"I... I just- remembered-" he tried to scramble to the side of the large Dutchman, inwardly cursing a stream of French. "I... have to be somewhere-"