Sorry, I guess

Chapter 1

It was a quaint evening, well, as quaint as an evening could get when constantly surrounded by a group of dangerous, special operatives. Gustave "Doc" Kateb, as he reluctantly allowed himself to be called, was seated at his desk. His office just as plain and unusual as the day. The walls were plastered with hideous posters, each of which displayed an individual with a painfully fake smile. Their teeth so blindingly white that he often found himself staring at them, straining his eyes to see the hint of any other colour.
Alongside these uncanny medical posters, were an array of curious items. There was a spine that sat perfectly poised in the corner of the room, on which sat his helmet. All operatives were advised to leave their gear in their separate armory chambers, but after an incident involving a certain Jordan Trace and the word "penis" being so haphazardly scribbled across his visor, Doc prefered to keep a watchful eye on it.
From there, if you allowed your gaze to stray left, you'd see a metal table. His tools were all neatly arranged on trays that rest close to the edge, and on the ledge beneath. The rest of the room was mostly filled with souvenirs and other tid-bits he had collected from his job.
Like most others, he had a bed. It was nestled against the wall, clearly it's original intent was for patients. However, with the medical bay being set up, he had repurposed it for personal use. The mattress was uncomfortable in the kindest sense, but spine problems were the least of his worries. In fact, the most of his worries were wrapped up in one lovely package that snapped him out of his current daydream.

'Hey, you listenin'?'
The sudden words caused the doctor to jolt upright. He glanced up at the man who had just spoken, tilting his head slightly, 'I don't believe you were due for an appointment Mr. Por-'
'Well, clearly, I'm here' The man slicked back his hair with one smooth motion from his hand, dropping himself into one of the white, armed chairs sat in front of Gustave's desk, 'And I need your assistance'
'Ooh, assitance. We seem to be using our big words now, Porter. What is it that you need?' Gustave couldn't help but speak with a bit of fire on his tongue, his last encounter with this wretched man left more than enough reasons for him to be harsh.
Porter raised his hands defensively, 'Alright mate, calm yourself down first'.
He impatiently tapped the desk, staring at Gustave with a confused look. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, 'Are you mad at me?'
'Oh no of course not'
'... well then my reason for visitin' seems a bit fuckin' useless now, huh?' Porter leaned back in his chair, it creaked loudly. Doc raised a hand to his face, pinching his nose between his fingers, 'I was being sarcastic, Porter'
'And so was I you salty bastard. What, can't even use my first name anymore?'
'It's a sign of respect'
'Like you respect me!'
'I don't believe you quite understand-'
The conversation was soon ended before a response could be given. Porter's hand slammed a hand on the table demanding silence. This caused Gustave's mouth to immediately close. He crossed his hands, staring into adjacent man's eyes. The words floated for a second in his mind as he debated speaking. Finally, he made his choice, 'James, I have respect for all of my colleagues. Whether I like them or not.'
'Well then, are you going to listen to my apology or not?'
'A-apology?' Doc stumbled, his voice soon turning to a whisper. He was half expecting to be thrown on the ground and beaten by an ex-heavyweight champion, now, an apology was the last thing he imagined happening. His brows furrowed as he thought, 'You're apologising to me?'
'Well- I didn't want to either, alright! Jack- well whatever the kid's callin' himself these days, said I really hurt your... feelings or whatever during our last trainin' session' James leaned closer to Gustave, analysing his face to see how the man was taking the information he had just given him.
The eye contact was broken as Doc lowered his head, 'You did no such thing' he mumbled, 'I don't know why he would have told you such- ludicrous information!'
'Mhmmm, are you quite sure about that one?' James once again leaned back into his seat, allowing Gustave to raise his head towards the man, 'I mean an apology could be a nice thing. Although I don't see why you out of all people would be the one delivering it'
'Because I feel bad for makin' you feel bad? I'm an asshole, sure, but I don't act all 'orrible thinkin' it'll actually hurt someone. Even if that someone is a sensitive bitch boy...' James trailed off. On his face was a frown, contrasting against the small smile that had grown on Gustave's
'You're gettin' a kick outta this you sick fuck'
'Just like it when people own up to their actions'
'Well now I ain't sayin' it' James huffed, his arms crossed against his chest and he glared at Doc, 'You had your chance for your stupid apology, and you blew it'
'Me- I blew it?'
'Yes.'
Gustave crossed his arms, mocking James and mimicking the way he had slouched in his chair, 'I think we all know you're too proud to apologise to me'
'What? No way! How are you seriously that childish' James stood up, he leaned over Gustave so that their noses almost touched. The doctor suddenly was taking things a bit more seriously, shrinking back in his chair and only staring back helplessly
A few moments of agonising silence passed, before James spoke his long-awaited words. 'I'm-' He cursed to himself, sighing loudly and breaking the uncomfortable eye-contact, 'I'm sorry you let your feelings get hurt'
James used the table to spring himself back so that he was standing upright, 'We won't talk about this, I trust?'
'That wasn't even a proper apology!'
'Don't be picky, Doc. That's how Adam and Eve got exiled from that Eden place or somethin' I never read the bible'
Gustave stopped for a moment to process, 'Are you trying to be funny? None of what you just said made any sense'
'Not trying, succeedin'. Not that you know anythin' about comedy, lovey'
'Lovey- are you feeling alright? First the apology, now this?'
James took another step towards the door, 'Don't take it to heart, I call everyone that'
'You've never once said it when I've been paired with you' Doc protested, 'Are you sure you've not got a fever? Do you wish for me to escort you back to your room?'
'Well now that you mention it I do feel sick' James recounted, slowly seating himself again. Gustave shuffled forwards, 'Oh?'
'The symptoms include me being repulsed by french medics'
Doc stayed silent, raising an eyebrow. Mostly shocked by the poor attempt at a joke, or insult. It seemed probable that it was meant to be recieved as both, '...unfortunate'
'I'm sick of you, Doc'
'No, no. I guessed that myself'
James stood back up again, '...well. I better be on my way. I have a full schedule for today. Only just managed to fit in this encounter'
'Does that include spending some time with Jordan and Shuhrat?'
'Alright, fess up. How did you know that?' James demanded, stepping back towards Doc, 'Own up or I-'
'They invited me, too. You seem to forget we share friends'
'Oh, gross' James leaned against the doorframe, 'well, I guess I won't get rid of you as quickly as I thought I would'
'I'll see you in an hour James, take care' Doc sighed as he watched James leave, the door slamming behind him loudly. He glanced down at his hands, then at the door. He decided starting more work wouldn't be worth his time. He had just finished sorting out his cabinets from the past year so he believed he deserved a break. However, he didn't want to see James earlier than he had to, and so decided to wait a little bit longer in his office before leaving to meet up with his two friends.
He picked a pale yellow file off of his desk, and slipped it neatly into his newly labeled drawer. He shut it with a satisfying click and stood. He stretched his arms above his head, and listened to his bones crack He put a hand on his hip and bent at an odd angle to produce a pop from a stubborn joint in his neck. A vague thought crossed his mind about possible replacements for his bed, but he shook the idea almost as quickly as it had arrived.
He picked a crumpled coat off of his blanket. An easy solution for the halls of their current, and hopefully permanent main base of operations. They were excruciatingly cold during the winters. He buttoned up the front hastily, the top of it nestling snugly against his neck. He adjusted his sleeve and made his way to the door, opening it to be met with a blast of cold air.