Archive of Our Own ^beta

The most important thing to understand about the situation is that the CDC doesn’t care. Not really, even as he considers killing the cause. They have bigger, more annoying fish to fry, an excess of personal work and exhaustion so deep that even death wouldn’t make them feel better. 

The exhaustion, they find, gets even worse when they have to stay in the state house for mandated check-ins with the states; Gov not having allocated anyone else to even bother learning about personification health and just silently adding it to CDC’s workload with a mundane, political smile. It’s not because of the banging (people cooking impulsively during the night) or the fighting (the arguing is similar back in the office, he can sleep there). No, it’s the god forsaken moaning . Gov didn’t install soundproofing, because he never learns anything, and now the CDC was set to spend a few weeks listening to a state sleep their way around the house. 

He finds out, through gossip, (but mostly Florida’s inability to manage his volume) that the state in question is Texas. 

It gives him pause for a millisecond (What the fuck?) (Of course.) before he sighs and bangs his head against the wall. The walls must be made of paper and CDC was actually gonna murder Gov. Or Texas. Gov for the lack of soundproofing, Texas for the sound itself. Both, at this rate. They were a light sleeper, a bad sleeper and melatonin didn’t work on them anymore. Taking a hard sedative sounded nice. A coma sounded nice. His murder fantasies grew less morally ambiguous by the second. 

After another 10 minutes of burying his face into the pillow (which felt straight out of a hospital, he was hoping it wasn’t stolen) (it was totally stolen, why was he deluding himself), CDC gave up on sleep and went back to squinting at paperwork. Their schedule for the next week was open on the desk and they saw Texas denoted for Thursday. They could survive one more night without sleep. Surely. 

Groaning, CDC checked his reminders: 

• pls get louisiana checked for liver damage

• california: burn action plan?

• is there any actual therapist for these assholes?? is it ME?????

• georgia has some sleep disorder but there is no treatment on the books for personifications so i guess that’s just another thing i need to figure out??

• new j: check on the tic disorder - no proper treatment also no proper diagnosis from last check in sooooooo maybe do something on that???

Scrolling frustratedly to the end of the 27 page document he had accumulated in the past 9 days, he added as a heading. 

• texas

Sobbing could be now heard in a different room, as the sex continued, only really serving to remind him that he was fully being made responsible for their mental healthcare now. CDC shut his eyes and slumped on his desk. 

~~~~

Gov doesn’t look surprised when CDC comes into his office. It doubles as his bedroom and he saw him heading upstairs, most likely already.  “Here about the soundproofing?” He asked, looking back down at the paperwork. CDC glowers at him with the spite and hatred fueling him to still be standing. “No one sleeps around here unless they’re on drugs, have ear plugs or sleep through hurricanes, everyone hates it, yes I know, yes I know it’s bad for people’s health to not sleep, no I don’t really give that much of a shit and also yes, I do know about Texas.”

They take a deep breath to prevent themself from strangling this man to death after 10 days without any reasonable amount of sleep. “You need to get a proper action or medical team for the states. The institu- institu- the institutions as well.” Gov is actually looking now. CDC continues. “You have diseases that don’t exist within my areas of study, or within human records. You have- You have- You have-” He cuts himself off, inhaling for a second. His stutter is always more aggravating to him when he needs to prove something, outside of just doing medicine, and is always just a bit more present. “You have people with major enduring physical and mental health issues and people whose bodies will create a supervirus without any of them knowing it. I- I can’t, this isn’t… I can’t manage this workload alone.”

Their reminder document was now 32 pages long. 

Gov narrows his eyes at them. The CDC narrows them right back. “I’ll consider it.” Gov offers, noncommittally. 

“You will.” The CDC offers back, fully committed to violence. 

Gov just sighs, motions for the CDC to get out of the office. While walking out, something clicks in the CDC's head. 

“Hey, by the way,” He turns and smiles, mundane, professional, “I swear to god if can’t sleep because there’s no soundproofing in your stupid building and I hear you fucking Texas during the next week, I will tell every goddamn branch of intelligence and the military I’m on speaking terms with.” 

He’s never seen the fed pale so quickly. 

~~~~

There’s a suspicious buzzing on certain people’s phones. It’s a groupchat, but for what exactly he’s not sure. He ponders it for a minute, before motioning for the lone star state to enter the extra room (basement) that Gov had given him as a check up room. 

Texas, who, he finds, is afflicted with a variety of ailments which he “never thought to speak up about” or “didn’t hurt that much anyway”. (Hasn’t got with any of the med-certified states often enough for them to notice, they figure, before dismissing the thought.) Emotionally, he’s like a brick wall. After 15 awkward minutes of him parroting psychiatric assessment questions and Texas mumbling back ableism or anti-therapy rhetoric or toxic masculinity or whatever bullshit dog whistles his politicians fed him till he seemed to barely think for himself when asked about himself, CDC gives up and tells Texas to take off his shirt. 

They reach a new section of the assessment, Texas looking shifty, fidgeting in his seat, especially with his shirt off after the CDC found a severely infected wound on his side, staring at his lips instead of his eyes. His arms and stomach have some kind of rash in lines around him, and they look familiar enough but he can’t quite tell what it is, and Texas cannot give an answer to save his life. It doesn’t bother them, really. At least he’s not panicking (Tennessee) or fighting (Massachusetts). He’s quiet, mostly cooperative and that’s always better than feral. “You can put back on your shirt now.” Texas puts it back on and stares at the ground. 

He bites the bullet. “Any relevant sexual history? Do you have any STI’s? Are you sexually active?” They do their best to not make eye contact. At the very least, they are both uncomfortably aware of the fact that he’s sexually active. Texas swallows. CDC feels some pity on him for a second before remembering exactly how thin these walls are, (Really, Oklahoma? Utah??) and suppresses a scowl. 

“Uh- yeah,” Texas starts, forcing some fake bravado for a second, “I ain’t telling you nothin’ ‘bout my life- this- this here and now is government overreach, plain and simple!” They both look at each other awkwardly and CDC gives even the slightest hint of disdain and Texas melts. “No, um, sorry about that, yeah I am.” 

They consider, for a second, forcing him to spell out exactly what he is, but they would actually prefer to die than watch this man get an erection on his check-up table. (It’s a bed, according to Gov, made out of 2 fold up plastic tables and some blankets, which also were definitely stolen from a hospital.) 

“Uh-huh.” He says, marking it on a clipboard, “Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases or infections you know about? When was the last time you got tested?” He’s not surprised at the way that Texas blushes at the questions, face red down to his neck, and he waits for a minute or two before asking again. 

“Last month. I don’t got anything wrong with me.” Texas offers quietly and CDC nods, impartial, masking his surprise, then hiding his laughter when he hears something about California muttered under Texas’ breath. 

“Did I miss something there?”

“Nope.”

CDC felt the notification in his pocket of a text messages, coming in quick succession. Fearing the worst, he pulled his phone out to check, only to see a string of messages from an anonymous number. 

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: cowboy needs something for cuts in sensitive areas if you catch my drift ;) 

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: also like normal wound stuff and waterproof plasters 

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: maybe like painkillers that work for states

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: can u also get stuff for rope burn maybe 

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: oop self report lmao 

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: ure the best science dc loveeee youuuuu

They don’t even bother trying to guess who this comes from. He stares blankly at the texts for a few seconds and then looks back up at Texas. The red rash lines make more sense. Texas tilts his head slightly, furrowing his brow, back to his outraged lashing out. “What’s that you looking at, huh? Selling my data to China now? You been sold out?” The defensiveness seems more automatic than genuine, as if bullying his way through discomfort was all Texas really understood. “Think you can get past me, Science boy, first with your lyin’ about that virus and now touching all the states? I’ll have you know that I am not a sheep and-” 

CDC shoots him an incredulous look. Texas stammers before he barrels on and they zone out, considering what might work for rope burn. Betadine, (the altered version with steroids that the FDA refuses to discuss with him) is already on his list for the infection on his side, and minor friction burns should heal fast enough on their own, if needing some gauze or antiseptic. If it’s leaving long term marks, it means that the burns are moderate or major, leading him to wonder, what the fuck is Texas doing with ropes to give him burns equivalent to sticking his skin into the goddamn treadmill?? 

He decides, in that exact minute, that he does not want to know. Instead, they try to remember what the BRCA had told them - burn cream, lukewarm water, gauze, and medical treatment. Waterproof plasters he had more than enough of. The more miserable thing CDC had to contemplate was considering how much of a sexual health talk he needed to give this obstinate, horny man. 

“Are you done?” They ask after a few moments of silence. Texas looks stubborn, and pissed off, but he nods. CDC gives him a bored, frustrated once over and ignores the outburst, steamrolling right over the rant, “I’ll have an antiseptic for you and a whole bunch of waterproof plasters, with instructions on what you need to do for the injury on your side. I will sic the National Guard and Maryland on you if I find out you don’t do anything, and you will have Old Bay all over your clothes, food, and bed.” 

Texas glares, “They ain’t as good as the Texas Rangers.” 

CDC glares right back. “I don’t care.” 

He types down his notes for a second before looking back up. “There will be burn-aid cream for any friction burn, such as rope burn-” 

“How do you know th-” 

“Shut up. China, maybe.” He bites sarcastically, before continuing, “You’ll get burn cream, and some gauze. If it’s minor, use lukewarm water first before the gauze. But more importantly is following adequate procedures when doing things, regardless of if you’re doing them with a sexual partner or for work… for- for- for some reason.” He stumbles over the last sentence, trying to think of any reason that state work would require use of ropes, before pushing onwards, “Actually knowing how to tie things safely and consent are important. I’ll- I’ll- I’ll send a fucking booklet.” 

Texas stares with his mouth open like a fish. The absurdity hits CDC like a tonne of bricks, suddenly, and he processes for a second that he’s standing in a basement, typing medical notes onto his phone, with the most oversexed, repressed homophobe he’s ever met. Holy shit. 

“The antiseptic will work for any cuts down on your genital area, and I’ll send sorbolene for irritation as well. Keep injuries aired out, don’t let moisture accumulate there unless you’re wanting for the NIH to have to treat an infected wound down there. Don’t scratch at your scabs. Call- call- call someone, if it looks the wrong colour, has a lot of pus, or doesn’t get better, please, I don’t want to have to do surgery there unless it’s strictly necessary, and medical neglect is not .”

CDC looks back up at Texas who looks humiliated to the bone, whatever mask of righteous protest dissolving as he nods, staring holes into the floor. “Do you understand?” His head snaps back to their face, giving quick, affirmative nods. CDC decides, for his own sanity, to ignore any implications. (On one hand, this is definitely doing something for Texas. On the other… Has this man had any first aid education? Has anyone even attempted with sex education? Was this cursory talk about anal fissures the first time this man had to truly consider the injuries he was acquiring from sex??)

They take a deep breath. “Please, even if you didn’t care about the COVID guidelines, which- which- actually, no please do care about that… try to be safe with your sex. You shouldn’t be getting severely injured. Talk to your partner- partners, it’s not my problem, I just don’t want another outbreak of something in the Statehouse, okay? There’s a lot more but, at the very least, please don’t make me have to learn how to treat an epidemic of a new STI from sleeping with Florida next time I have to come talk to you… States .” CDC ignores a few choice words that come to mind. 

“You’re dismissed.”

Texas shakily stands up, too stunned to argue. On his way out of the basement, he pauses and turns back to CDC. “Thank you, Sci- uh, CDC.” 

CDC smiles, mundanely, sharply, “If you want to show your thanks, spend your next few nights preferably on the opposite side of the house to the guest room. Oh, and Texas?”

For a second, they understand why everyone is sleeping with him. The look in his eye, the shifting of his feet, ever so slightly, as he looks at them. CDC gives him a once-over. “You would be less vigorously sexually inclined if you were less repressed. Accepting your sexuality or preferences might mean I never have to bring up Florida sleeping with you again.” He shrugs at the state. “Just a suggestion.” 

Texas bolts out of the basement, and he smothers his own laughter for a minute, trying to regain his composure. They have to talk to Iowa next, and there’s a whole can of worms there, really, and he can’t be laughing about Texas’ suffering when the state comes in. 

Sending in the orders for Texas, he hopes, silently, that he’ll get a good night’s sleep. 

~~~~

The pounding above him, the mattress creaking, directly above him, made him want to actually burn this house to the fucking ground. They can have all the states, except Hawai’i and they can have him. They can also have Gov. It was too late at night, it was too loud, and he had never felt less aroused in his life. The sound of snoring in a room nearby evoked so much jealousy that he wanted to strangle whoever had mild sleep apnea nearby. Give them severe sleep apnea, they mused. 

Bored, angry, but not stupid enough to try to get them to stop, he ponders who it was tonight, really. 

It’s near the north-eastern corridor, but not quite. Maryland? No, their room was next to a window. He thinks for a second, before laughing into the mattress. Surely, no, he wouldn’t. No way he was that stupid. There was no reason, no logic, surely this man was not that desperate, or that easily swayed. 

He listens for a minute, before hearing the name of a familiar fed from above his head. CDC laughed hysterically. 

department of killing maiming killing mai…

smallpoxluvr: hey guys i know its late

smallpoxluvr: also who changed my name again??

smallpoxluvr changed their name to abcdcdcdc

abcdcdcdc: the fed is sleeping with texas

abcdcdcdc: [nosoundproofing.mp3]

ill try ur drugs: woah he did not learn ANYTHING huh

ill try ur drugs: hows the states going

68.4 mil and counting: cee its so late you should be sleeping

68.4 mil and counting: you have so much work to do

ill try ur drugs: hypocrite 

nepo research baby: hypocrite

beach bodyguard: hypocrite

infinite crisis: hypocrite

bird man: hypocrite

[reply to hows the states going] abcdcdcdc: bad 

abcdcdcdc: awful. please get me out of here

abcdcdcdc: does gov have something personal against me??

abcdcdcdc: also you all came out of the woodwork to call doe a hypocrite

abcdcdcdc: on that note

[reply to cee its so late you should be sleeping] abcdcdcdc: hypocrite

68.4 mil and counting: rude :(

abcdcdcdc: sorry doe :((

ill try ur drugs: gen tho go to bed 

ill try ur drugs: dont u still have like 5 more days there??

abcdcdcdc: aughhh dont remind me

abcdcdcdc: i would sleep if i could they are SO loud

abcdcdcdc: pls tell me ull all bully gov for this?

[68.4 mil and counting, ill try ur drugs, infinite crisis and 7 more reacted with a heart]

68.4 mil and counting: you’re all forgiven btw

68.4 mil and counting: please go to bed though cee

68.4 mil and counting: we’ll see you soon

ill try ur drugs: im already shipping asbestos to his room lollll

infinite crisis: WE TALKED ABOUT THIS

infinite crisis: NO MORE ASBESTOS

[infinite crisis, ill try ur drugs, 68.4 mil and counting and 5 more are all typing]

abcdcdcdc: great. im muting this and trying to sleep

abcdcdcdc: [theyrestillgoing.mp3]

abcdcdcdc: please kill me

Ill try ur drugs: dw bro ive got the asbestos

68.4 mil and counting: NO