After taking his Poodle for his annual vaccines, Chanyeol supposes he owes it to them both to update his own. It’s been a while; he’s been putting them off.

Needles just make him nervous.

His leg bounces as he sits on a low armchair covered in water-resistant plastic material. It's not wholly uncomfortable, but his jeans sort of squeak with every move, and there's an older nurse behind the desk who gives him a look over her glasses every time he shifts. He can't help the noise, just like he can't help the nervous tic in his leg.

Finally, a nurse calls his name, smiling when he looks up from the clipboard and sees Chanyeol stand. "Hello!" he greets.

His smile is somewhat heart-shaped. Cute.

"Right this way.” He gestures with his clipboard, leading Chanyeol from the waiting room down a hall of wooden doors with little windows. “How are you?"

"Uh, I've been better."

"Oh? What's wrong?” The nurse probably expects something he can use to update Chanyeol's medical history. “In here, please." He steps aside for Chanyeol to enter a small exam room. It's bland and tasteless, utilitarian except for the framed print of a pretty countryside on the wall with a chair he sits on.

"I'm actually not super fond of needles."

"Few people are. I’ll try to make it as quick and painless as possible.” The nurse—Kyungsoo, according to his nametag—looks over Chanyeol's records. It hasn't been updated since a visit to urgent care over a bad case of tonsillitis a couple years ago. "Has anything changed health-wise recently?" Chanyeol shakes his head. "No concerns? No new medications?" Another shake. "Great. Sit tight for just a couple minutes, and I'll be right back with the vaccines."

Chanyeol expects to hear a click as the door closes, locking him in, but he finds that he can turn the handle readily. There’s small comfort in that. He could totally leave.

He sits back, however, slouching a bit. This is for his own good, he tells himself. If he can't keep himself healthy, he can't keep his dog healthy, and that makes him unhappy.

Kyungsoo returns with a metal tray in his hands. “Do you have a presence for which arm?” At Chanyeol's shrug, he asks, “Are you right-handed?” Chanyeol nods. “Then roll up your right sleeve. Do not try to baby your arm; common injection site reactions are pain, swelling, rash, bleeding, or redness. If you experience blistering at the injection site, hives, upset stomach—” It's like a commercial for any new prescription drug, listing off possible symptoms, from loss of appetite to death, Chanyeol thinks. Yeah, it totally sounds like the most ideal drug to use. “—vomiting, dizziness, or severe itching, call a doctor. You ready? Just a little prick; you won't feel a thing.”

“And here we haven't even had dinner, yet,” Chanyeol mumbles.

“What was that?”

Whoops. Anxiety makes him say dumb things. Chanyeol grins weakly, eyeing the glinting silver and wilting. “Just...Just gimme a minute. I’ve really never been good with needles.” Ignore the ink over his arms. Tattoos are totally different. The needle doesn’t literally embed in the flesh and sit there. He’s always felt as though he could sense the needle expanding as the vaccine or blood flows through the needle.

Taking a few calming breaths, he rolls up his sleeve to his shoulder and drops his elbow onto the countertop beside him.

"Alright,” the nurse pushes his glasses up behind his face shield, uncaps a syringe, and holds it up to the light. “This'll be a one-two-three-ow deal. "

Chanyeol blushes and sits back as far as he can. The nurse notices and looks down, stepping back with a frantic apology. He hadn't realized he was standing between Chanyeol's knees.

Not that it’s a bad place to be, a voice in the back of his head says. The nurse is definitely cute and kinda Chanyeol’s type.

“It may help if you look away,” Kyungsoo comments softly, focused on filling the syringe from a small vial. He briefly holds it up to the light to view his handiwork, then bends towards Chanyeol's arm. He smells like hand sanitizer and eucalyptus. “I’ll tell you when I’m done. One, two, three—.”

Chanyeol wakes up on the floor. Partly, anyway; someone is holding him up.

“You back?” He looks to his right and gets an eyeful of the cute nurse up close and personal. “You passed out and nearly took a nosedive to the floor. I tried to catch you but didn’t do a great job… Can you get back up?”

He almost says he needs a moment, but he’s not quite so desperate to be held. The nurse is more muscular than the scrubs show, however; he must give nice hugs.

Once his patient is firmly seated again, the nurse asks, “Do you want to continue your vaccines?”

“As long as I’m here, sure. I don’t think I’ll work up the nerve to come back.” Not after fainting in the nurse’s arms. He'll find a new clinic across town, if he ever decides to get stabbed in the name of health and safety.

“Okay. Same as before, but maybe sit back a bit more, and rest against the counter. Put your forehead on your other arm, so you don't see what's going on.”

Sounds suspicious, and Chanyeol almost makes a joke, but he follows Kyungsoo's suggestion and lays his head on his arm. He listens to the nurse as he moves, feeling subtle shifts in the air as he bends over Chanyeol and cleans his arm again, barely holding the flesh as the needle slides into muscle.

“Don't flex, please. You'll break my needle.” Latex-covered fingers smooth over his bicep. “Just relax...we're almost done.” He sounds like he's coaxing a wounded animal, which is a little how Chanyeol feels. There's still the sensation of the needle expanding, as the plunger is depressed, but he doesn't faint again.

He lifts his head when a soft cotton ball is pressed against his arm, held in place by an adhesive bandage.

“Because you did pass out earlier, I'd like you to stay for a few minutes.” The nurse produces a red lollipop from his pocket. “Have a er. I'll get a cup of water.”

Chanyeol shoves the plastic wrapper into his pocket, pouting at the pull of the bandage over his sore shoulder. It's worth at least two pieces of candy.

Kyungsoo returns moments later with a paper cup that he sets beside Chanyeol. “Are you feeling okay, now? Arm sore?”

“Yeah, but I'm alright, otherwise. Thanks for the candy.” ers are a weird candy. He can sit there and it like a cartoon child, bite it like an animal, or on it and try not to make any awkwardly obscene noises. “I'm not keeping you from other appointments, am I?”

“No. You're my last one, actually. I'm off after this. Take your time, though; I don't mind.”

The hard candy pulls free from the paper stick; he puts it in his pocket. “If that's the case, are you free? We could get coffee? As thanks for not just letting me drop to the floor and bust my nose or something.” It's a nice nose; he's very attached to it.

Kyungsoo stares at the wall clock, then shrugs. “Sure.” He offers another candy from his pocket. “It's a date.”

The benefits are two-fold: Chanyeol's already been seen at his worst—passing out over a tiny needle—and he'll be with the guy who knows the side-effects to watch out for and has already proven himself a good catch.

His Poodle would be proud.

a/n: I've had this WIP for a while and, rather than working on what I should be finishing, kinda finished it over a couple evenings.

I also do not like shots; I've avoided the doctor for years. I don't faint, at least, but I just see the syringes and...cry.