A CEO's Child

The Days Following

The first few days had been rocky, even in the hospital. Since it wasn't really a hospital but rather more intricate, comforting, lab rooms, when work had resumed on Monday there had been lots of nosey individuals to the point Marty had ordered security until locked doors could be installed. 

Venyamin had not been enjoying nosey coworkers coming to check on his well-being. He was still pale, exhausted, and greatly in pain. He refused most of the heavy painkillers, not wanting to get addicted and having such a reputation to uphold. Being a male, he did have an easier time going to the restroom, not having such burning with the urine, but he had still not eaten enough to defecate and had been refusing it. He'd torn badly and simply didn't want to deal with it. 

Day three though, Anissa and Marty weren't putting up with him. He cried non-stop, pleading with them otherwise, but they give him solid foods, as he was losing weight fast, and stool softener.  Anissa had to admit her husband did a damn fine job of fighting the urge to use the restroom, but ultimately failed. 

"I will give you numbing cream," Marty sighed. 

"I can't even sneeze or raise my voice, I'm not going to the bathroom!"

"You have to, you aren't going to starve or poison yourself." Marty snatched hold of his forearm administering something in a quick jab that Ven clearly didn't like. 

"Why are you doing this to me!"

"Grow up, you're a grown man," Marty snarled. "I get it hurts, but for fucks sake, you're three days into healing and don't have a lot to fear. You're going to be just fine, I'll make sure of it. And it shouldn't hurt, if anything burn--slightly. Alright?"

"Look, Ven," Anissa pressure. "If you can do this, we can go home. Wouldn't you like that?"

Staying here hadn't bothered him though. He'd slept like he was dead, not a care in the world, ambiently snoring in his oblivion--something he didn't commonly do.

She could see a change in him this time, as he glanced towards a sleeping Jessamyn. He pursed his lips. "Fine. Fine, but I don't have to go yet."

"Then you can get up and help pack. Walk around."

"What?"

"You heard me," Marty said, and her husband just pouted, rubbing the strong growing stubble covering his face.  "I'll get you a shaver if that will make you feel better."

He shook his head. "A cup of coffee?"

Anissa frowned, then smiled. "Do you want me to drive and get you..."

"Nope. You can stop on the way. I want him home, I want him out of here because I hate nosey fucks. I'm coming with to make sure he uses the restroom. Now get up and we'll go get you that damn coffee, but I want to drive that van of yours."

He slouched back into the bed. She knew his hips hurt a lot, that everything did, but he needed to tough it out. He had the option of medicine and wasn't using it, so he could figure out how to manage. 

"Fine. Ibuprofen though?"

"Sure." Marty practically yanked the bottle out of thin air and slapped it into Ven's hand. "You had a baby, you didn't shot or stabbed, you'll be fine."

He snorted. "I had a fucking baby and I tore to bits. I think it's worse than being shot or stabbed."

Marty shrugged. "Millions deliver every day,  you're not special."

He huffed, his eyes growing cold. "Sure." He swallowed about five pills without water. "Give me a few and I'll get up."

"Nope now, and you can soak in the bath until we are ready to leave."