When A Cough Is More Then A Cough

By RascalFlattsS

Disclaimer: Do not own Royal Pains.

Summary: Being the brother of a concierge doctor has its benefits. Sometimes. Evan gets sick and Hank has to take care of him.

A/N: I got the inspiration for this story this morning when I woke up with a cold. And that got me thinking about what if Evan got sick? What would Hank do? I REALLY want USA to make an episode about this because it would be AWESOME. Until then, I guess I'll have to write my own.

Chapter 1: Sick as… an Accountant?

Hank was walking downstairs for breakfast when he heard a deep cough coming from the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen to see his younger brother sitting at the kitchen table. His back was to Hank and Hank could see his head bent down, focusing on the spreadsheets in front of him. He was so focused on his work that he never heard Hank come downstairs. Hank was about to sneak up behind him and scare him when Evan suddenly broke off into another harsh coughing fit.

Hank was by his side in an instant. He grabbed a water bottle from the counter, twisted the cap off and placed it in Evan's hand. Evan nodded his head in a silent "thanks" as he took a sip of water, smoothing the cough.

"No," Evan said simply, not even bothering to look at Hank. His voice was scratchy and silent horse from the coughing.

Hank looked at him puzzled. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"No, you cannot do an exam," said Evan. He smiled at his brother's shocked expression. "And yes I know you that well, Henry. You freak out at every little sniffle or cough."

"I do not freak out!" defended Hank.

Evan raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, you're not freaking out," he added sarcastically. When Hank continued to glare at him, Evan added, "It's just a cough." He was about to say something else but he was cut off by another coughing spasm.

"Yeah that sounds like just a cough," said Hank. "That type of cough is typical of pneumonia or bronchitis or-"

"Or it could be this little thing they call a cold," finished Evan. "Believe it or not, Hank, sometimes people get colds. And it's not a big deal."

"You don't know that's it's a cold," said Hank.

"And you don't know that's it's not a cold," said Evan. He sighed. "How about I make you a deal? You stop freaking out for let's say a week and if I'm not better, then you can officially freak out and run all the medical tests you want. Fair?"

"That sounds fair," agreed Hank. "Shake on it?" He asked, holding out his hand for Evan to shake.

"Okay," said Evan. He reached over and grabbed Hank's hand, shaking it. Hank however used this opportunity to hold Evan in place with the one hand, and with his free hand, places it on Evan's forehead, gauging his temperature.

Once Evan realized what Hank was doing, he pulled away but it was too late.

"You're burning up," said Hank.

"It's warm in here," argued Evan.

"Its 68 degrees," replied Hank.

"Yeah, well, that's warm," said Evan.

"Yeah, for a polar bear," said Hank. "And last time, I checked, you're not a polar bear." Hank walked over to the counter and grabbed his bag. He brought it back to the table and pulled out a thermometer. He held it out to Evan. "Open up."

"Oh c'mon!" said Evan. "This is completely unnecessary!"

"Yeah, well, humor me," said Hank. "I don't have any other appointments for today Evan. I can sit here and do this all day."

"Fine," grumbled Evan. He took the thermometer and placed it under his tongue. They waited for about thirty seconds till it beeped. Evan took it out and handed it back to Hank. Hank looked at it and sighed.

"101°F," said Hank. "You're definitely sick."

"Well, I could have told you that," said Evan. "But it's just a cold, Hank. I'll be better in a couple of days. It's nothing. Besides, I have to get these spreadsheets done and submitted. I don't have time to be sick."

"No one really ever has time to be sick," said Hank. "But you are and you need to rest. Doctor's orders."

"And I'm telling you as the CFO, I need to get this done," said Evan. "I can rest next week."

"Not an option," said Hank.

"Well, it will have to be," said Evan. He bent back down and continued working on the spreadsheets.

"All right," said Hank, "Enough of this." He grabbed Evan's arm and pulled him up out of the chair and moved him over to the couch.

"Hey!" Evan objected. "What was that for?"

"You're taking a break," said Hank, "while I do an exam."

"I don't have time to take a break," said Evan. He started to stand back up, but his legs buckled underneath him and he started to fall forward. He would have hit the floor if Hank hadn't caught him.

"Yeah, it's time for a break," said Hank, as he carefully placed Evan back on the sofa. He looked at Evan with concern.

"It was just a head rush," mumbled Evan. "I stood up too fast."

Hank rolled his eyes. He walked over to the table and grabbed his bag. He sat down on the couch, next to Evan. "Evan, look at me."

Evan turned to look at Hank. Hank continued, "I know you don't like getting sick and I know that you think this is probably just a cold or a bug and isn't a big deal. But your health is a big deal to me. And if something happened to you-and I could have prevented it-I would never forgive myself. I know you think this is a big waste of time, but please Evan. Let me make sure that it's really just a cold."

Evan sighed, "Fine." Hank smiled. When he turned to reach into his medical bag, he didn't see Evan smile as well.

"Okay," said Hank. He grabbed a notepad and a pen. "Start at the beginning. When did the symptoms start?"

"Um, about three days ago," said Evan.

Hank nodded and wrote that down. "Okay. Now where does it hurt? And don't leave anything out."

"Um," started Evan, "it started out with a headache, a sore throat and then a stuffy nose. I've also been really tried and wore out. Then early this morning, I've got this cough and the chills and I guess the fever."

"Okay," said Hank. He felt Evan's neck. "Glands are swollen."

"Is that bad?" asked Evan.

"It's not good," said Hank. He grabbed his stethoscope. "Can you lift up your shirt?"

Evan nodded and pulled it up. Hank placed the stethoscope on Evan's chest. "Now take a deep breath." Evan took a deep breath but broke up coughing. Hank did however hear some ratting and wheezing in the chest.

"So, what's the verdict?" asked Evan.

Hank leaned back into the couch and sighed. "Well, I'm not sure yet. There is some rattling in your chest, which means it could bronchitis or pneumonia. Or it could be the flu or even the cold."

"HAH!" said Evan. He then broke out into another coughing fit. He waited until it was over to add, "I told you so!"

"But I highly doubt it's a cold or the flu," said Hank. "The rattling in your lungs and that cough really worry me, Evan. Plus, cold and influenza are viral infections-usually means no fever. It's more likely to be pneumonia or bronchitis." Hank reached for his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" asked Evan.

"Calling Divya," said Hank.

"Why?" asked Evan.

"Because you need a chest x-ray," said Hank as he strolled down his call list. When he landed on Divya's name, he hit the call button.

"I don't need a chest x-ray!" said Evan.

"Yes you do," said Hank.

"Hello?" answered Divya through the phone.

"Hi Divya, its Hank," said Hank. "Can you come over to the guest house?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Evan's sick."

"I'M NOT SICK!" Evan shouted but what cut off by harsh coughing.

"Is that Evan?" asked Divya. "He sounds awful. What do you think he has?"

"I listened to his lungs," said Hank. "And there's some rattling and wheezing. I'm thinking pneumonia or bronchitis. But I can't tell with an x-ray and some blood work."

"I'm fine," said Evan. He started to stand up from the couch and wobbled a little bit. "I have work to do."

"Evan, sit back down before you fall down," said Hank.

"What's going on? " asked Divya.

"Oh, Evan's insisting he's fine and is insisting on working on some spread sheets," said Hank. "I'm trying to convince him to rest."

"Sounds like fun," said Divya.

"Oh it is," said Hank. "Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure," said Divya. "I'll be over in twenty minutes."

"Thanks Divya," Hank said as he hung up. "Divya will be here in twenty minutes, so why don't you just sit and rest-" Hank turned back to face the couch and saw that Evan was no longer sitting there.

Hank scanned the living room looking for his brother, "Evan?" He turned when he heard a large crash coming from the kitchen. Hank took off running.

"Evan!" he asked. He turned and walked behind the counter. He was horrified at what he saw, "Oh my God! Evan!"

A/N: Oh no! Cliffie Karma strikes again! I just can't seem to get rid of it.

What does Evan have? I'm not a hundred percent sure yet; I haven't decided yet but I assure you there will plenty of Evan Whumpage and Worried Big Brother Hank!

Please R&R!