Author/pseudonym: Cathy Roberts
Email address: huntersglenn@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: 1/?
Pairing: John Carter/Gregory Pratt
Date: October 21, 2002
Archive: Not without permission
Category: "E.R
Disclaimer: "ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your own pleasure. I owe a special thank you to Melissa for the idea <g>.
Summary: Contains spoilers for "Chaos Theory", Season 9. The story explores what might have happened during that episode.
Two weeks. They had to spend two weeks together and already they were sick of one another, Gregory Pratt thought to himself as he searched the hallways for any sign of Jing-Mei. He knew she was hiding, almost all of them were hiding, he thought, Stan had stalked off to suffer alone, Carter and Abby...well, he didn't want to think about them going off together to be alone. And that was why he was looking for Jing-Mei, hoping that she had found a secluded enough spot for them to make love.
And there she was, curled up on a bed in an empty room - as if there were any other kind of room there right then, oblivious to his presence, which worked to his advantage as Gregory slipped into the room. She was reading, and he was content to just watch her doing that for a bit, knowing that sooner or later she'd realize he was there, ready and wanting her.
"What is it, Pratt?" she said, breaking the silence but never taking her eyes from the page.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. You've found a nice little place here," Gregory said as he perched himself on the edge of the bed.
"That's right. Nice and secluded, a place where I can be alone." She evenly replied. "Notice the emphasis on being alone."
"It's a great idea. Just me and you, here alone," he said with a leer that she couldn't see.
"Pratt, we've been over this before. I am not having sex with you."
"Jing-Mei," he sighed patiently. "What will it take to convince you that I want more than just sex with you? I picture you as the mother of my children."
She rolled her eyes and finally looked up at him while he smiled at her. "Go away."
"I'm crushed, Jing-Mei. I missed you and had to look all over for you. Doesn't that show I care?"
"No." She closed the book and eased her body off the bed, heading out of the door without a backward glance.
Gregory watched the retreating figure with anguish. He wanted Jing-Mei Chen more than he had wanted any other woman. It was driving him crazy to be stuck in the hospital with her, so close, and yet so far. She tried to be cold toward him, but he knew she was all fire inside. Just like him. Gregory could see they were two of a kind, why couldn't she?
The only thing worse than Jing-Mei's indifference toward their similarities was Carter's complete ignorance of the way the two of them could be together. The man had driven Gregory about as crazy as Jing-Mei had. The only difference was that Gregory knew he had a chance with Jing-Mei while he had no chance with John Carter. For one thing, the man was all goo-gooed eyed over Abby Lockhart. For another thing, Carter couldn't stand him. They clashed and they clashed hard, and Gregory knew that a fire burned inside of Carter, too. A fire he wanted to stoke and build up until it threatened to consume the both of them. Oh, he could easily picture the two of them together, wrestling on the bed, sheets pushed to the floor, their limbs entwined as they vied to be the top. Gregory didn't really care which one of them won, just as long as he got to hear Carter begging him. But the idea of having Carter under him made Gregory's cock twitch. Oh, yeah, Carter under him, begging to be fucked was definitely a turn-on. And Gregory began to think that setting out to seduce Carter during their quarantine would be far more rewarding than being continually shot down by Jing-Mei. If he didn't succeed, then Gregory would still have the joy of the chase. And if he did succeed...then he'd have Carter, and that was definitely a worthy goal.
So, okay, all he had to do was find a way to get Carter away from Abby and then figure out how he was going to go about seducing him. Sounded simple enough when put that way, but Gregory knew it would be far from simple. All that he had been able to find out about Carter told him that John Carter was not a simple man. This was going to take some careful planning and plotting.
Grinning, Gregory left the room, thinking it would be a good place to bring Carter when the time was right.
The ensuing days gave Gregory lots of opportunities to spend time with Carter, both alone and with others present. When the man wasn't busy being the Chief Resident, Gregory felt that he wasn't too bad. And that just made him want Carter even more than he had before. God, but showering together was rough. The women insisted that they all go to the showers at the same time, so that there wouldn't be a chance of anyone spying on the others. Jing-Mei had been looking directly at him as she said that, and though Gregory said he'd never do that, in his heart, he wasn't so sure. Being given the cold shoulder for a few days would be worth a glimpse of Jing-Mei and Abby all soaped up and naked, or rinsed off and naked, their skin slick from the water, just waiting to be touched.
So, instead of a chance to see that, Gregory was stuck with showering with Stan and Carter. The presence of Stan was probably the only thing that kept Gregory from getting hard while they all stripped for their showers. Given that Carter was there, Gregory would have preferred to strip behind the shower curtain, but real men didn't hide from each other, and even though Stan was a drunk, he was still a man. Gregory didn't want Stan thinking he had something to hide, even if he did.
That first group shower though, Gregory did find himself staring at Carter, and not from lust, either. The guy had pulled off his t-shirt to reveal a long scar running down his body, neatly bisecting it as it disappeared under the waistband of his pants. And when those and his boxers came off, there were more scars visible. Gregory was sure he was blushing when he looked up at Carter's face and saw the man looking at him, his own cheeks red. Even Stan was looking. Yet no one said anything. Gregory wanted to know why those scars were there, and the ones he later saw on Carter's back, but he didn't dare ask, and Carter wasn't volunteering the information. It was something he was going to have to either live without knowing or else find a way to talk with Jing-Mei about.
But once behind the shower curtain, Gregory found it easy to envision his lips and fingers tracing patterns along those scars, kissing away the pain that had to be associated with them. And Gregory was sure it had been a lot of pain, he was close enough to his surgical rotation to remember that. A midline incision, going from under the rib cage to the pubic bone, an obvious colostomy scar. The back scars were either from bullets or a knife. Either Carter had been hurt more than once or else had had something bad happen to him. And for once Gregory, who wouldn't hesitate to stick his nose in someone else's business, prying, didn't feel it was right to ask what had happened. Was it because he was still thinking of Carter as his boss, or was it because he didn't want to see any hint of pain in those marvelous brown eyes of his?
There were times, too, when Gregory would find himself staring at Carter and then feel eyes staring at him. Abby's eyes. Eyes that held no secrets, eyes that told him that Carter was hers and hers alone and to back off. Eyes that said she'd do anything to keep Carter safe. No words were ever exchanged, and after a few days Gregory pretty much figured out that Abby was just protective toward her man. It wasn't that she saw him as a threat, she most likely hadn't picked up on his sexual interest in Carter, all Abby saw was him and his attitude and that's what she was responding to. A few conversations with Jing-Mei established that more people than Abby felt he didn't show proper respect toward Carter. Okay, maybe sometimes he got carried away. And maybe sometimes he liked to get right there in Carter's face, just to watch the man get heated up, enjoying the way his eyes flashed and darkened even further when angry. So, yeah, he pushed Carter's buttons from time to time, and the time was getting closer to when he'd be able to do more than push those particular buttons to see the flashing dark eyes and feel the heat coming off of Carter's body.
John found it only slightly difficult to answer Pratt's questions as they played their own version of soccer. Indoor soccer? ER soccer? Bored-out-of-their-minds soccer? That last one was closer to the truth. Abby and Deb had gone off to some corner of the ER, giggling like teenagers and insisting they didn't need company, so that left John to deal with Stan and Pratt. It was nice to sit around and talk with Stan, that is, when the man felt like talking, which wasn't often. Most of the time he kept to himself. As for Pratt, well, John was a bit surprised at how much he actually liked the guy once Pratt quit acting like a know it all.
The sound of breaking glass brought John out of his thoughts and he saw Pratt standing there, looking guiltily at a broken window. Stan was also staring, and John couldn't help but grin. He looked at Pratt, Pratt looked at him, they both started laughing and then Pratt was running over toward him. Oh, yeah, they definitely needed to run before they were caught, IF the women were back, that was.
John headed into the men's room, Pratt close behind, and as John looked at Pratt as he leaned against the door, he couldn't help but think that the man was definitely handsome when he was laughing and just being himself. He wondered just how soon it would be before the more intense Pratt returned and found himself dreading the day when he had to go back to being Chief Resident and Pratt had to return to his role as the irritating and gung-ho intern.
Pratt laughed. "Do you think we're gonna have to replace that?"
"Most likely. Unless we can convince people that the window broke during the confusion from earlier. Some of the patients did get a bit carried away," John replied as he leaned against the sink.
"Did they? I know we heard a lot of shouting, but being locked away, I didn't know what was going on," Pratt said as he sank down to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"It was bad at one point. The police outside even had their guns ready." John felt a shiver run through his body as he remembered seeing that AFTER he had convinced the people not to leave. "I think they would have shot them, too." He also sat down on the floor, leaning back against the side wall. A wide grin spread over his face. "I beat you, just like I said I would."
"Damn, you're always right, aren't you?" Pratt replied, echoing something he had said to John during the early part of the crisis.
"No, not always, and not even mostly when it counts," John replied, his grin fading away. There had been too many times when he'd been wrong and someone died as a result of it.
"Hey, man, you're right when you need to be," Pratt said. He punctuated his remark by nudging John's thigh with his foot. "And that's what counts, right?"
John looked over at Pratt, nearly taken aback at first by the intense look that the man was giving him. But he had to admit that Pratt was right. At least a little bit. "Sometimes. I guess I just want to be right all of the time."
"Don't we all?"
John couldn't help but grin once more at the tone of confidence in Pratt's voice. Yes, they all wanted to be right. Most people did. The problem though was that in their profession, being wrong usually ended up with people dying.
Those kinds of thoughts, John mused, were too depressing, and he had been having too much fun with Pratt to want to even go near depressing things. He got to his feet and reached down a hand to help Pratt get up. "Think it's safe to go back out there?"
"Why not?" Pratt said as he used John's help to get to his feet only to end up less than a foot away from him.
It was a distance that didn't grow or decrease, John noted, as the heat from Pratt's body emanated toward John. Pratt's eyes were dark and unreadable, yet John had the feeling that those eyes were looking into his soul, and it was a feeling that wasn't unwanted. Finally though, it was Pratt who pulled away, saying nothing as he opened the door and then held it ajar so John could follow him into the hallway, the moment forgotten. At least that's the way it appeared to John, but it was a moment that he found himself looking back on for the next few days, a moment he wished had lasted just a bit longer.
A week later, thoughts about Pratt and that look were the furthest things from John's mind. The budding relationship between he and Abby was growing stronger, or so he thought. Every night was spent together, curled up on one narrow bed, holding tightly to one another in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Abby said that Deb knew for sure that they were a couple, HAD known, but John still wasn't sure about that. Not that it really mattered. He had loved Abby for such a long time and now she was finally with him. Not quite his, but definitely with him.
He was thinking about that as he watched Abby and Deb sitting together, Deb reading while Abby painted her toenails. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was enough to just stand there, out of their line of vision, and watch Abby move. Then it hit him, the unmistakable aroma of a pizza, freshly baked and not some microwaved piece of cardboard. Not that the food they'd been given had been bad, it wasn't. It just wasn't the best, especially under the circumstances.
Following his nose, John ended up at the desk with everyone else, listening to Pratt tell how a friend of his had slipped the pizza into him along with sodas. The pizza was like a taste of Heaven, and even if Pratt hadn't been kidding, John had been most willing to pay his share, once he was out and could get to an ATM, that was. Then Stan had surprised them all with his revelation that he had once taught Renaissance Philosophy, a vocation lost because of his drinking. Looking around, John could see that everyone standing there was saddened by the story of how Stan had killed his own daughter while driving drunk, and that bit of information definitely made people drift off, Stan to eat alone, Deb to retreat somewhere to eat in bed, Pratt to eat and watch television in the lounge, and John and Abby to most likely go back and eat in bed, as well.
That's what he should have suggested, John knew. But instead he ended up trying to talk with Abby about her drinking and that led to her walking away from him. He had to admit that he was more than just a bit disconcerted over the prospect of spending the night alone, but he did hope that giving her some time alone would help her cool down and that they would at least sleep in the same room that night. With the pizza tasting more like ash in his mouth, John headed toward the lounge, not wanting to be alone at all.
"Hey, that offer to join you still good?" John asked as he walked through the door and then he stopped in his tracks as he saw a very graphic pornographic scene on the television for a brief moment before Pratt grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.
"Sure, come on in, there's room." Pratt moved over on the couch and John walked over there, setting his food and soda on the table before he sat down.
"I guess your friend slipped more than pizza and soda through the window?" he asked with a smirk.
"Uh, yeah, he did," Pratt replied as his eyes moved back to look at the door. "Abby right behind you?"
"No. I don't know where she is."
"Trouble in paradise, huh?" Pratt asked, clearly more relaxed at that news.
"You could say that. It'll pass, I'm sure. So, what's the name of the movie?"
"You serious?" Pratt looked at him, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess you are. The name doesn't really matter, does it?" Pratt turned the television back on. The movie had kept playing while they had been talking, but the couple was still in the midst of some very intense action. "Moves like that would most likely kill a regular guy."
John looked at the screen, but didn't agree with Pratt, mainly because he HAD used moves like that at one time or another. "It's not so hard," he admitted.
Pratt laughed. "Looks very hard to me," he said, leering at the screen.
"Did you ever notice how overly endowed porn stars are?" John asked, taking special note of the size of the man in the clip and feeling more than a little lacking in that area. Then he felt his cheeks growing warm as his mind began to wonder just how well endowed Pratt was. God, he couldn't let his thoughts go there, especially with that memory of the look Pratt had given him in the men's room that day. Gregory Pratt was definitely straight, after all, he was hitting on Deb all of the time.
"Oh, I think I could give him a run for his money," Pratt said, a know-it-all grin on his face.
"Yeah, right. Don't all men think that?"
"This is one man who is serious. Not only do I have it, but I know exactly how to use it for maximum pleasure," Pratt preened.
John couldn't help but laugh at Pratt's self-confidence. "As long as the women don't complain, then I'm happy."
"Just the women, huh?" Pratt asked, his voice only slightly above a whisper, and John had to listen extra attentively to make sure the man had said what he thought he heard.
"Are you sure that's soda you're drinking and not beer?" John asked, thinking that Pratt had to have been drinking something to make a comment like that.
"I'm sure, and I'm waiting for your answer, Carter. Is it just the women you care about?" Pratt asked, stretching out his legs on the coffee table.
Pratt's movements revealed what had previously been hidden, a large bulge under the fabric of his pants, and John had to force his eyes away from it, even as he felt his own body respond to the knowledge of what was causing that bulge. Get a grip, he told his body, he's watching a porno flick, of course, he'd be hard. But John couldn't deny that he hadn't noticed that about Pratt when he first walked into the lounge, or deny that Pratt had a very impressive body, muscular, hard and firm.
No, his thoughts couldn't go there, not when he and Abby...bad mistake that, thinking about Abby and how she had stalked off. Didn't she care about herself at all? Didn't she want them to have a chance, John wondered. Or was she more like Stan than she wanted to admit, not willing to quit drinking as opposed to unable?
"Have you ever done it with another guy?" Pratt's voice broke into John's thoughts and he looked up sharply to find the man's face mere inches from his own, his eyes intent and probing, his expression serious. The look reminded John of the one that Pratt had given him in the men's room a few days earlier, the look that had haunted him for many of the days in-between.
"No," John managed to say. "At least, not the way you mean."
Gregory couldn't help but chuckle at Carter's words. The man was hot and bothered, that Gregory could easily see, and yes, oh yes, he did like what he was seeing behind the cotton of those scrub pants Carter was wearing. "Then tell me what you mean," Gregory said, using the opportunity of having Carter unguarded to let his fingers trail up the man's arm, watching as the action made goose-bumps erupt on the skin, another clue that he was getting to Carter.
"I've...well, it was one time..." Carter's voice caught a bit on the end of that sentence.
"So I've got to drag this information out of you, huh?" Gregory asked as he looked into those dark eyes. Gregory's hand reached Carter's collar bone and then headed down the man's chest.
"Was it with someone you knew?" Gregory's finger encountered a hard bump under Carter's t-shirt, and he slowly grinned as he ran his finger back and forth over it, feeling the nipple grow erect with each movement, and hearing a slight moan from Carter's throat.
"Yes...Pratt...what are...?"
"Shh, I'm the one asking the questions, remember?" Gregory replied as he traced a line across Carter's chest to the other nipple, already erect and straining against the material, aching to be touched. "Was he a doctor?"
"Yes," Carter replied with a sharp intake of breath.
"Was he older than you?" Gregory asked as he reluctantly stopped the teasing of Carter's nipples, then let his fingers trail south, toward the hardness that lurked beneath those pants.
"Yes. Pratt, we shouldn't be doing this."
Gregory lifted his eyes from Carter's lap and looked him directly in the eyes. "Why not?" he asked, feeling it best to be direct at that moment. "I'm hard, you're hard, and we're both stuck in this damn hospital with nothing else to do right now."
"We're in the lounge. Anyone could walk in," Carter said, his eyes glancing at the doors as if he expected company at any moment.
So, Carter didn't object to them doing anything, Gregory mused as he brought his hand up to Carter's face, gently grasping his chin and holding the man's head in place as he leaned in even closer. "Then we'll go to a secluded room where I can make love to you without us worrying about being interrupted." He pressed his lips against Carter's, half afraid that Carter would reject him then and there, and a thrill ran through him as Carter's lips parted slightly. The invitation given, Gregory eagerly accepted it, entering that warm mouth with eagerness, kissing until they were both out of breath.
As they broke apart, Gregory reached for the remote and turned off the television, then the tape. "It's not far away, come on." He got to his feet and held out his hand to help Carter to his feet, not that the man needed any assistance at all with getting up from the couch. Gregory smiled as Carter took his hand, and when the man was on his feet they were merely inches apart.
"They'll look for us," Carter said, but the tone of worry was no longer in his voice.
"Let them look, they won't find us," Gregory replied. Still holding onto Carter's hand, he led him to the door and into the hallway, beginning the walk to the room he had so carefully prepared for the two of them in what seemed ages and not days ago. Everything was there that they'd need, clean sheets, blankets, towels, condoms and lubricant.
As they walked, Gregory couldn't help but continue his line of questioning, needing to know just how far Carter had gone and with whom and where, already feeling jealous over any person touching Carter. "White or black?"
"White," Carter replied from beside him.
Gregory glanced over at Carter and squeezed his hand, gratified when Carter squeezed his back. It felt really good to be the one leading for a change. "So, he was a doctor, older than you and white. Did you fuck him?" Couldn't get more direct than that, he thought.
"No. There was none of that."
Gregory didn't have to look to see the embarrassment on Carter's face at that admission. "Okay, no fucking...then. He gave you a blow job?"
"Yes," Carter sharply replied.
"You gave him a blow job, too?"
"Yes."
"One time or more than once? I mean, were you only with him one time?" Gregory wasn't sure he liked the idea of Carter's mouth wrapped around another man's cock, or the idea of another man making Carter writhe with pleasure, and Gregory was positive that Carter would writhe while being sucked.
"Just that one time."
"His name?" When no answer came, Gregory looked over at Carter again, and in the semi-darkness of the hallway was able to see that the man was highly embarrassed. "He works here, doesn't he?"
Carter shook his head. "No. Not now. He used to. His name was Doug."
Gregory stopped walking and turned to fully face Carter, once more his hand wandered to the man's face, only this time he caressed the stubbled skin there. "The next time someone asks you these questions, Doug ain't gonna be the name you give, it's going to be Gregory, and there won't be any of this 'we didn't do all of it' bull, you're gonna proudly recount how Gregory fucked your brains out, got it, Carter?"
Carter slowly smiled. "On one condition, 'Gregory', and that's that you call me John and not Carter."
Gregory pulled Carter...John, toward him, a full blown smile on his face. "That's one order from you that I don't mind taking, John." Their lips met once more in a hungry kiss, a promise of what was to come once they reached the bower that Gregory had prepared.
"Damn, but if we don't get to that room soon, I'm gonna take you here and now," Gregory said, sighing as he rested his forehead against John's.
"Then I guess you'd better lead the way or I might just have to let you do that."
Gregory raised his head and grinned, once more taking John's hand in his own. "It's not far. Come on."