The Patient's Painkiller is a Psycholologist

Chapter 9

He has a plan.

Or at least he thinks he does and hopes it will work.

Dropping a quick message to the reception to let his patient know that he will not be seeing him today (and making it very VERY clear that they should only knock and speak through the door but not enter) and sitting down at his office to begin with his plan, Peter huffed, cracking his neck before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with new-found determination.

He hoped that Wade would keep himself entertained with the new materials he had brought and not take offense to Peter who suddenly canceled his visit. Last time they saw each other Wade had panicked so maybe he did need the distance, plus… Most therapists aren’t supposed to see their patients everyday anyway- Mr Jameson even said in the meeting once or twice was fine (Peter disagreed though).

It was late already by the time Peter even looks away from the screen of his computer. Files are discarded messily around his desk and his quick typing pauses just so he can go grab himself a cup of coffee.
Rubbing his eyes, tired from the light of the computer despite getting special lenses to protect his eyes against it, he stands up and looks around at the empty office, lights off apart from the exit sign and the scent of cleaning still present which meant the cleaning lady had come by and Peter hadn’t even noticed.

Wandering through the dark halls that had the nightlights on now, Peter wondered if he should head home and continue his work in the comfort of his own home- Perhaps take a break and research people he can commission instead of writing, leaving to continue with his report tomorrow.

His plan was simple: report the lack of aggression and give hypotheses as to why Wade Wilson had hurt his aide. In short, give them a reason to allow the man to join other patients and socialize without being bound in a straitjacket- It would do him some good to be able to slowly join and get accustomed to others- Ofcourse, Peter wrote that down in his report too, talking about how it could help him and encourage Wade to be less aggressive in the process (which he still wasn’t, the man was like a big teddy bear and had yet to show a sign of aggression to Peter).

As his coffee began to fill in the small break room, Peter took a seat at the empty table, body hunched over the old files of Wade Wilson, re-reading the contents.

“Hm?” he hummed as he squinted at the name of his aide, an idea coming to mind as he circled the name. He’d need some input from the victim itself, maybe they could talk about their own experience with Wade- Peter doesn't know if they had given him some medication that altered his mood or if the aide had done anything to offend him to begin with.

“Peter?” a voice rung through the warm lit room and it took a moment for Peter to register it had said his name.

Slowly, he lift his head away from the paper, blinking sleepily at the the man who called him

“Goodness, you look like death” Mr Rogers shook his head, taking the already-done coffee from the machine and placing it in front of Peter “I suggest you head home and get some sleep rather than drinking your death-juice” he turned to get his own ‘death-juice’

“Steve” Peter yawned, smiling slightly as he brought the cup to his lips, scowling at the bitter taste before relaxing once again, body jittery at the sudden caffeine causing him to shiver “why are you here so late?” he asked

“James” Steve Rogers replied simply, pulling out a seat in front of Peter with a worried look in his eye

“Who?” Peter, far too tired, asked

“Bucky” Steve chuckled, drinking his coffee handsomely unlike Peter who always pulled a face - it was far too late and his coffee was cold… and there was no sugar but Peter didn't want to stand and get some so he settled for the bitter taste.

“Aah” Peter hummed casually, acting as if he hadn’t just choked on the drink “How is he?”

“Had more night terrors” Rogers frowned deeply, blue eyes downcast “about his past- nurses rushed in to forcefully bind him and I had to step in” he explained

Peter nodded with some understanding, relishing in the silence and comfort of cold disgusting coffee. Once done with his drink, Steve stood and smiled down at Peter, he was much older and taller than the other and had been the one who was in charge of Peter when he first started working here, Peter would always hold high regards for the man.

“You should probably head home” Steve tried again with that gentle smile of his “cant take care of others if not taking care of yourself, Pete” and with his usual catch-phrase (he had said it so often to peter that he was sure it was a catch-phrase) he left.

It was the next day, the sun had risen and Peter had taken Steve’s advice and instantly discarded it.
People were flooding into the office, muttering grumpy “Good Mornings” as they sat at their desks or headed to get more coffee. Peter just like everyone else, sat at his desk, difference was that he never truly left the building and, as Steve had said the previous night, he looked like death but- but!- Peter had finished his report and his, once unfounded energy, came flooding back when one of the many tailors he contacted at ungodly hour, had replied to him.

“Build up to it” Peter quoted Lucy with a grin as he stretched, standing to adjust his desk higher so he could stand up and continue with his work up on his feet, having far too much energy (and back pain) to sit.

“Will need to take measurements… Design ideas let me know- free at these hours…” Peter read the email once again, adding the number to his phone and checking the time in the process.

It was a bit too early but he could still go see Mr Wilson and ask him for his own thoughts, maybe ask him if he is comfortable with a stranger measuring him… If not, Peter could probably manage, he had done his own fair of sewing with his aunt in the past.

Printing his report, Peter groaned at not having printed when there wasn’t anyone in the office, his own files being added to a list of other files that were in the process of being printed.

“Morning, Peter!” Ned greeted from his own desk as Peter headed out in a hurry, deciding to talk to Mr Wilson as he waited for the files

“Mornin’!” He greeted back in a rush, his own jittery body speeding down the halls despite his fatigue.

“Build up to it” he mumbled