#hissapocket

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes, "that's why its a formula dumbass, the ingredients interact in a way that makes it safe—at least, it will, once I figure out where it went wrong."

Hissabeth raises one eyebrow, "and where do you think it went wrong?"

"I probably didn't just measure it out correctly," Medicine Pocket shrugs, "I'll test it again once the current side effects wear off and if it happens again, then I'll look deeper."

"You… did you maybe right the forumla wrong?"

Medicine Pocket stops and glares at Hissapocket, "the formula is not wrong, I assure you," the two of them reach the elevator, and they sag to lean against the wall to smash the button repeatedly for the floor the living quarters are on until the door shuts, "but if you doubt me, you're welcome to observe."

Hissabeth is silent a moment as they travel up several floors. "You just want me there because you know I won't tell Enigma unless you actively start dying."

"That too."

The elevator dings and the doors open, and Medicine Pocket doesn't wait for Hissabeth before striding towards their room. They hear a quiet sigh from behind them before footsteps follow afterwards, and they can't help but smile, having expected nothing less. Besides, having Hissabeth there meant that if something went wrong again, she would be there to keep it all under control—and make sure Enigma didn't find out. If it weren't obvious that the experiment wasn't approved, it certainly was now, but Medicine Pocket would have it no other way.

When the two of them reach Medicine Pocket's room, they slap their badge against the door and it opens quickly, and they step inside and throw their arms into the air, "ugh, finally, free of that god awful place."

Hissabeth follows after them, an amused smile on her face, "don't they keep you sane when your body hates you?"

"Hey, no, none of that reasonable bullshit, save that for when I'm there and begging to escape," Medicine Pocket grins and starts tugging off their uniform, "also you better be ready to tell me what happened, 'cause all I remember is getting in the elevator."

"So long as you're prepared to be called an idiot when I do," Hissabeth says and watches them strip.

Medicine Pocket sits on the edge of their bed to tug their boots off and then leans back on their hands to look up at the melusine, "I guess that's fair, now hurry up and get in the bed, I wanna use you as my pillow since you're here."

"Can I borrow some clothes then, or will you let me go back to my room and get changed?" Hissabeth asks, making them realise that like them, she was still in her uniform.

Without a word, Medicine Pocket stands and goes to rummage through their closet, pulling out a plain shirt and some shorts and tosses them over towards Hissabeth. They turn to dig through it, and definitely do not glance over their shoulder to watch Hissabeth change, not at all. It's not their fault that she has a body worth looking at, and it's not like she's ever told them they can't look. But they're pretty sure that Hissabeth's noticed them staring, because she takes her time with changing, allowing Medicine Pocket to glimpse her nakedness briefly before she pulls on the shorts, and then the shirt. They watch her fold her uniform and place it on the chair, coaxing her snakes out of her hair as she always does when the two of them sleep together.

It's not that Medicine Pocket dislikes the snakes, because they don't; they think they're quite fun actually, but the first time that Hissabeth stayed in their room, they woke in the middle of the night to one of the snakes crawling over them—Hissabeth still laughs whenever she's reminded of it.

So now they sleep on the chair.

Medicine Pocket waits for Hissabeth to get comfortable on the bed before crawling into it themself, slotting between Hissabeth's legs so that they can rest their head against her chest and they hum contentedly at the warmth. They feel Hissabeth's chin rest on the top of their head, and snatch the papers from her hand, "okay, tell me what happened."

Hissabeth doesn't hestitate, "Pointer and I found you in the elevator, semi-conscious, and looking like you'd just run several laps around Laplace, and we were just going to take you to our lab to sleep off whatever drug-induced state you'd wound up in, when you started seizing."

"In the elevator? How long after you found me?" Medicine Pocket asks, leaning over to grab a pen from the bedside table and start scribbling the information down.

"A minute or two, I believe. Pointer called for Enigma then, because admittedly, while we know how to deal with seizures, we didn't know exactly what you'd taken." Hissabeth explains. "And before you ask, yes, we did consider it was your body acting up, so I went to your lab and found the formula on your workstation. Took it down to medical where Pointer and Enigma had taken you."

Medicine Pocket frowns and points at the delirium symptom, "and this? What was this about?"

"Once the seizure stopped, you seemed to regain consciousness for a bit, but nothing you said was making sense—even for you, and then you passed out again."

"A second seizure?"

They feel Hissabeth shake their head before she speaks, "no more seizures, but you're heart rate was high for a while. I muted the monitor when it wouldn't stop beeping."

Medicine Pocket nods and scribbles tachycardia at the bottom of the list. Another symptom that's not ideal for a potential painkiller.

"Can I ask what this is for?" Hissabeth asked, shuffling down the bed a little so she can rest her chin on their shoulder instead.

"It's a painkiller, or at least, it will be once it works."

They can feel the concern practically radiating off of Hissabeth as she winds her arms around their waist. "Is your current concoction not working anymore?"

"It is, I'm simply trying to prepare for the day it doesn't," Medicine Pocket says, as if having their own cocktail of pills for the bad days is something everyone has prepared. It makes it easier that everyone they work with already knows about their shitty body to begin with, there's less judgement when they get caught trying to deal with the bad days. They still remember the first time a newbie caught them with a needle in their arm and ran straight to Madam Lucy who'd been concerned in that weird way of hers, until she realised it was just them self-medicating.

The notice that went out the next day about it could've not happened, but Medicine Pocket appreciated the care… somewhat.

"Well let's hope this formula works then, I quite enjoy when you're not in pain every day." Hissabeth says.

"It will," Medicine Pocket grins and sits up to slap the paper on the bedside table, making sure to place something on top of it so it doesn't vanish in the night. Then they spin around and straddle Hissabeth's hips, wrapping their arms about her shoulders, "and now that that's done, how about some fun?"

Hissabeth cocks an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth tilts upwards, "and here I was concerned for your well-being."

Medicine Pocket hums and presses their lips together, tongue snaking out to take whats theirs, "you'll just have to kiss me all better now, won't you?"

A few days later, and Medicine Pocket wakes up on the floor of their lab, barely unable to open their eyes, with their head in Hissabeth's lap as she ran a hand through their hair. They're not quite sure what's happened, but it doesn't take them long to put it together and they groan, ignoring the way their stomach rolls uncomfortably. Hissabeth's hand stills before it leaves their hair to cup a cheek instead, "I think you might need to adjust the formula."

"Yeah, I was… I was thinking the same thing," Medicine Pocket murmured and then groaned as the nausea intensifies, "gonna puke—"

They're pushed upright in an instant and Hissabeth guides them to lean over the trashcan that's been dragged over. Blessing her foresight, Medicine Pocket clutches at the side of the can and breathes, grateful when a hand comes to rub at their back. Thankfully, they don't vomit, but it's enough of a close call for them to stay hunched over the bin for now. They can feel Hissabeth supporting them in staying upright, and leans against her warm body.

"Can you open your eyes?" Hissabeth asks.

Medicine Pocket slowly shakes their head. They do try, but it feels like someone's stapled their eyes shut. It's not a fun feeling. "Anything happen while I was out?"

"The sweats, and the tachycardia, but you didn't seize this time so that's something," Hissabeth says, reaching up to the workbench to grab a sheet of paper and pull it into view, "I wrote down everything I observed. Let me ask—"

"I don't need medical," Medicine Pocket interrupts and finally manages to open their eyes. Hissabeth splits into many Hissabeth's before their eyes focus enough to see her probably, "you can add double vision to the symptom list."

Hissabeth nods and scribbles onto the paper before pointing the pencil at them, "you aren't testing this drug again."

"Don't tell me what to do in my own lab," Medicine Pocket growls, glaring at the melusine.

One of Hissabeth's snakes peer out at them, looking as concerned as a snake can, "she is worried about you."

"I don't care, my lab, my rules."

"Your health," Hissabeth jabs the pencil against their arm, "Enigma's business, don't make me go to him."

Medicine Pocket opens their mouth to argue, only for the earlier nausea to make a comeback and this time, they empty their stomach into the trashcan.

Hissabeth sighs, "I guess we can add nausea to the list as well."

"Clearly… a second dose several days after the first… is not a good idea," Medicine Pocket groans, feeling much better now at least, and they push away the trashcan to collapse back against the floor, "I think I feel even worse than shit right now."

"Couch?" Hissabeth's voice takes on a sympathetic tone as she rests a hand on their shoulder.

Medicine pocket nods, and closes their eyes as Hissabeth hooks her arms underneath theirs and slowly gets them onto their feet. They stumble forward blindly as she guides them to the couch, and is grateful when she carefully lowers them onto said couch. Medicine Pocket melts into the piece of furniture, curling in on themselves and pressing their face against the back of it; they listen as Hissabeth moves about the lab, no doubt tidying the mess they'd made and Medicine Pocket licks their lips, clearing their throat before speaking, "come sit with me?"

"Give me a second to finish cleaning and I'll be right there. Do you want anything while I'm up?"

"Water," is all Medicine Pocket says, and manages to sit up long enough to sip the glass that Hissabeth brings over to them. They lean against the arm of the couch, resting their head on their arm as Hissabeth moves, before she comes back over and slips onto the couch beside them.

"How much of a pillow do you want?" Hissabeth asks.

Medicine Pocket just sits up and gives Hissabeth the space to slip further onto the couch, slotting themselves between her legs, much like how they had a couple of nights ago, but this time they lay on their side—partially on their stomach—and press their face into her stomach. "Like this is good."

Hissabeth hums and says, "hold on, let me just—" and she pulls one leg free to throw over their own legs.