you were sat inside the waiting room of a hospital, scratching excessively. dean was standing at one of the desks, signing you in before he finished and came over to sit by you.

your fingers went from your legs to your neck— itching the inflamed skin. dean sighed as he looked at you, he had made the decision to bring you to the hospital.

“stop scratching” he said firmly, grabbing your hands in his. you had used something that you were unknowingly allergic to and now hives were raising.