This little number came to me while I, in the role of Tom, had to spend the night in the ER with my friend. Although her condition was…quite a bit more serious than a concussion from a football game, I still got to experience the joy of trying to cheer someone up who was really just in the worse mood ever. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes I really thought she was going to strangle me with her oxygen cannula. Now it's Tom's turn…

Emergency Room

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"No it's not."

…

"I'm just saying."

"Well don't."

"I mean, I've never actually seen that happen in person; only in videos on the internet. Congratulations, Alex, you have made my life complete."

"I'm so glad. Now shut it."

"And you can't even blame anyone because it was your own fault. Who knew a bit of mud could be so dangerous?"

"Tom."

"I mean, it truly was spectacular…"

"Tom."

"The lads will be talking about that for months; it was magnificent."

"Aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"This isn't making you feel better? I feel great! The only teenage spy in the world; saved us all more times than I'm allowed to know, and you can't even avoid taking a header into the goalpost. Brilliant!"

"I will ask the nurse to kick you out, you know."

Tom visibly deflated and hunched down on the stool, continuing to spin back and forth, the old stool squeaking loudly with each turn. "Geez, Alex, what's got your knickers all in a twist?"

Alex slowly turned his head toward his friend, keeping the large icepack pressed to his hairline.

"I don't know, could it possibly be the fact that I have a concussion and I just made a complete and total bastard of myself in front of everyone who came to the football match?" He shifted on the uncomfortable hospital bed and winced as he moved his head too quickly, sending a wave of pain down his spine. "And I think I cocked up my neck, too." Tom just rolled his eyes.

"Well yeah, I'd be surprised if you didn't. That wasn't exactly a love-tap."

Alex just groaned in response and tilted his head back so the icepack would stay without him having to hold it. They sat in silence for a moment, but Tom broke it when Alex squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed loudly, like one does when they're trying to keep their food in their stomach, trying to keep as still as possible.

"Still feel like you're going to be sick? I can go get the nurse…" Tom offered, jabbing his thumb towards the closed curtain that separated them from the other patients in the Emergency Room.

"No, everything I ate this morning is back on the football pitch…" Alex muttered, closing his eyes tiredly. Despite the situation, Tom couldn't help but grin at the memory.

"I wonder it Britney will ever forgive you for puking all over her and getting your blood on her new shoes." At this, Alex also grinned, but stopped short of laughing out loud.

"It was her own fault for pulling me up." Then after a moment's hesitation, "…she's a bitch anyways."

"Well yeah, I think everyone will love you for taking her ego down a notch." He chuckled and gazed off, as if recalling a fond memory. "I can still see her face as the object of her affection projectile vomited all over her…"

"I wish I'd seen it. I was a bit busy doing the projectile vomiting."

"Oh, I'm sure there's a video of it somewhere. Over half of the crowd had their phones out the second your foot hit that mud puddle. It'll probably be on the internet by now."

Alex suddenly looked very depressed.

"Great…all over the internet. Now, instead of killing me, terrorists can just laugh at me and show my spectacular cock-up to their terrorist pals. No one will ever take me serious again."

"Maybe MI6 will have it taken down or something. It can't look good; having one of their top agents giving himself a concussion in a football match."

"They would actually have to acknowledge me as one of their agents first. And, if it doesn't directly affect my safety, they won't do shit about it." Tom actually laughed, making Alex wince at the noise.

"How does taking a header into a goalpost not directly affect your safety? I think it more directly affects your safety than prancing through Baghdad with a giant American flag tied 'round your neck."

"Wow, that was tasteful." Alex replied sarcastically.

"I know. It just snuck up on me. I don't know where these things I say come from."

They fell into silence again when a nurse came in to check Alex's vitals and take his blood pressure. She asked a few standard questions (On a scale of one to ten, what's your pain level? How many fingers am I holding up? Can you tell me your name? What's the date?), all of which Alex answered with irritation as he held his head, shooting glares at the nurse every time she looked down to write on his chart, before she vanished behind the floral curtain once again.

"Think she'll actually come back soon this time?" Tom asked after a few moments.

"Not a chance. We've already been here four hours."

Silence again. Tom fidgeted a bit, shifting on the uncomfortable stool, taking out his phone and checking the time. It was nearing one in the morning. He was quickly running out of things to do, having already flipped through the channels on the television mounted on the wall, rummaged through all of the trays of medical supplies, and beaten his high score on every game on his phone.

"I wonder when Jack's coming back. She's been in the canteen almost an hour." Alex shrugged one shoulder, trying not to move his neck. He looked like he was starting to drift off. Tom was also tired; after playing a long football match, riding in the ambulance, sitting in a darkened room in the ER, and trying to keep a conversation going with a bored Alex, he was ready for bed.

"She probably met some fit doctor." Alex mumbled, his eyes almost closed.

"I wish I had reception in here." Tom grumbled, flipping his phone closed after checking his number of bars for the hundredth time since entered the ER. "Then I could just text her." He paused. "Our phones must be flooded with texts. Between you and me, more than half the school has our numbers. And once Britney starts texting, the whole of London will have heard about this."

"Tom, shut up."

"I mean, it was pretty amazing. I wish I could see it in slow motion…maybe Phil got it on his camera; he was recording the match, you know. I bet I could get it from him."

"Tom, I mean it."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. You'll be laughing about this tomorrow, I know you. Besides, we could probably get Phil to do some really cool things with the video. Maybe, slow it down; loop it or something. Yeah, even add a soundtrack. I know! Another One Bites the Dust!"

"My finger is over the "call" button…"

"…you're no fun."