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[See Kurt Hummel. See Kurt Hummel looking incredibly unimpressed. Or trying to, anyway.]
An asylum. Really? Are we running through all medical facilities in events now? Should I expect to be in a veterinary clinic next week? This is seriously ridiculous, even for Wonderland ( Read more... )
An asylum. Really? Are we running through all medical facilities in events now? Should I expect to be in a veterinary clinic next week? This is seriously ridiculous, even for Wonderland ( Read more... )
It's a good one, too: look out for the patients. Target what's wrong, fix it whatever way he can, using whatever means he can. He's cut and dried in his methods, but the monotony of professionalism is, at the very least, subdued beneath a charming exterior.
He has the overwhelming need to save everyone he possibly can. After all, he's a doctor. Therefore, when a distressed message crackles over his communications device, Dean Winchester answers the call.
"Are you all right?"
Dean inquires, probing the young man for information. He seems upset.
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That does sound more like you. Though, I'm not sure about the legality of therapy sessions in someone's Impala. It sounds more like a euphemism for hooking up in the backseat.
[Huh. That question was interesting though. Kurt gives him a curious look for that one.]
No, I can't say I have. [He raises an eyebrow.] ...Why? You don't think I'm that far gone, do you?
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...he'll ask the kid about it later. A "Chevy Impala" isn't your standard lucky guess.
"Not you," Dean shakes his head, brow furrowed. "Me."
Since when did this becoming a therapy session for Doctor Dean Winchester? It's startlingly easy to talk to Kurt, particularly about himself. Dean's positive he hasn't talked to any fellow doctors this much about his own life.
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Sorry. It's just that I wouldn't imagine "patients" to be good sources of advice. [He even does the quote motions with his fingers. But okay, he's done. Really. No more picking on him, for now.]
Why do you feel that way? [It takes Kurt a second to think of something - he's trying to play by the rules and logic of this event, for the moment. He finally pushes his knees away from his chest, and instead dangles his legs off the side of the bed, one delicately crossed over the other.] Having some second thoughts about your career choices, maybe?
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Something really is wrong.
"Second thoughts?" The 'doctor', tongue-in-cheek, tilts his head to one side and looks straight at Kurt. "...you could say that. Only it's like I don't belong here. Like I should be doing something else."
Come to think of it, Dean can't remember when he started working here. He just works here. He watches Discovery Channel and Sci-Fi, and somehow that doesn't seem right either. The man quirks an eyebrow at Kurt, green eyes still boring into blue.
"Does that seem weird to you?"
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[Because no, you are not allowed the last word on that. But as Kurt listens to the more serious part of the conversation, he's trying not to look amused. But oh, the irony. Of course you don't belong here, Dean. You're not a doctor.]
It doesn't seem strange at all. Plenty of people feel that way when they're...dissatisfied with their job situation.
[Kurt examines his nails to keep from actually looking at Dean. He'd rather not explain why he looks like he knows something Dean doesn't know.] Have you ever considered going into another field? Perhaps medicine simply isn't what you should be doing. ...With no offense to your abilities, of course.
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There's also something peculiar about the way he's acting. The kid just seems so much more lucid than the rest of them. Dean feels like he's floating through a routine he never liked or embraced. Like he's been assigned a role to play and his heart just isn't in it. Dean has the uneasy feeling that Kurt knows him better than he knows himself.
"...and what would you recommend?" He hazards tentatively, tipping his head to one side. Kurt is avoiding eye contact, too. "Underwater basket-weaving? Ghost-hunting?" He thinks back to that show he'd seen on Sci-Fi a couple of days ago.
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Something like that. Though, I doubt you can actually weave baskets under water.
[He's better off being dismissive. Kurt doesn't know too much about it, but he knows enough to know that Dean's profession sounds more insane than anything he's been supposedly admitted for.]
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"Off the record," He begins brusquely, waving his hand. He's not letting this go; maybe he should've been a police interrogator. "And I mean completely off the record. None of this leaves this room." Dean stretches forward, resting one elbow on the table and speaking plainly,
"I don't think you're crazy. I don't think you're anywhere close. You might just be one of the sanest individuals I've met. But you're not going to help either of us if you don't start talking about something to someone. You don't trust me - I get that. I'm a no-good doctor with an agenda to figure out what the Hell is wrong with you, but I don't think there's anything wrong. I've dealt with delusional patients before, Kurt, and you're clear. This is not the cuckoo's nest, you're not Randall Patrick McMurphy, and I sure as Hell am not Nurse Ratched ( ... )
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...Thank you. Really. It means a lot that you don't think I'm insane. ...It might mean more if that part were on the record, but I still appreciate the sentiment.
[Looking at Dean's face makes him feel sort of guilty though. He wants to know what Kurt knows, and Kurt would love to tell him, but...]
I can't though. It sounds insane. I know you'll want to believe it, but you think I'm a patient here. [Well that isn't at all crazy sounding.] Telling you is just going to to get me moved to a room with padded walls, or medicated with something I probably shouldn't be taking. So...I can't tell you.
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At least, he feels this way until Kurt remains mum on the subject.
"What?" His face falls, and the sheer disappointment manifests itself in the form of an expression of helplessness. Dean looks like a puppy left out in the rain. Yeah, he wants to believe whatever Kurt has to say because everything he says feels like it makes sense, but the kid won't even share that much. "But..." Dean trails off a little, gaze slanting to one side in confusion. It isn't that Kurt won't tell him...he physically can't. What's holding him back? What is he so afraid of?
"...so you're just gonna leave me in the dark, then?" He looks back up at the other imploringly.
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Unfortunately, yes.
[He peeks back though, and Dean is still looking at him like that. And he sighs.]
...You don't need me to tell you now. You'll find out for yourself in a few days even if I don't say anything, and that course of action has the added bonus of keeping me out of a straight jacket.
[...Hopefully.]
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He's making no sense. He's making no sense, and won't tell him anything, and apparently Dean's just going to have to stick it out for a few days until the apocalypse - or whatever happens to bring him back to the reality he feels like he's left behind.
If it's a reality at all.
Huffing, obviously upset, Dean slumps in his chair for a moment, glowering at the table. How does he even know that the folders on Kurt aren't fake? It's probably all bullshit. Everything's bullshit. A half-truth he's been fed to keep him happy in the mind of someone else. What he wants to do is destroy them. They don't matter. None of this actually matters. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Dean finds his salvation.
A lighter.
...How the Hell did that get there?
Expression tight, he leans back to the table and lifts up one of Kurt's documents, regarding it with some derision, flicking the BIC thoughtfully.
"...you wanna read your notes before I burn 'em?"
Now this feels more like it.
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...You're going to burn them? Are you serious?
[The thought occurs to Kurt that maybe the point of this event is to show that the doctors are all completely out of their minds. Then again, Kurt had never been one for pyromania. That was always more of Puck's thing. But...Dean did offer him the chance to look before he did anything insane. Kurt forces aside his initial "WHAT THE HELL EVEN DEAN" reaction in order to answer him in as composed a way as he can.]
I wouldn't mind seeing them.
[He holds out his hand expectantly. Gimme gimme.] Also, do you have a pen?
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The question is obviously rhetorical, and Dean's thumb plays over the top of the lighter with clear intent. He smirks. "I thought you might like that." Tossing the folder across the table, he reclines in his seat again and watches Kurt carefully.
"...oh. Yeah," Dean's left front pocket in his lab coat holds a pen, and it skitters across the plastic tabletop, following the papers. He tilts his head to one side curiously. "Why do you need one?" There are any number of reasons, but it's difficult to tell with this kid.
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[He clicks the pen and sets to work, reading over his file. Occasionally he'll make a face and scribble out a thing or two furiously, or underline and darken points that should be jumping off the page. By the time he's done, all of the notes look something like this:]
Tendency to refuse offers of [unhealthy, inorganic, high calorie, or completely disgusting] food. Becomes irritable when the matter is pressed. Not anorexic; not suffering from an eating disorder. Obsesses over health food. No other stress disorders noted, save for the possibility of mild OCD.
...OCD? Really, Dean? [Kurt gives him a look for that one, and shakes his head, 'tsk'ing at him.]
Topics of conversation he enjoys: anything to do with fashion, Broadway musicals, some doctor show Grey's Anatomy. Note to self, look up popular doctor shows Grey's Anatomy, because McDreamy is the only primetime doctor worth watching.
[He eyes the file to make sure he hasn't missed anything important. Then, he scribbles a note at the bottom. ( ... )
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