"From The Journal of Dennis Gant, Part 1"
By Cathy Roberts
From the Journal of Dennis Gant:
"I can't believe that I'm now a doctor. An honest-to-God, bona fide physician. But, it's true. My day began with an early morning breakfast with Dr. Peter Benton, the surgeon who is leading the "Blue Team" to which I have been assigned. Met the other interns, heard some horror stories about Benton. Didn't believe them until he actually walked into the room. He's strict, but Daddy says that strict is good - we all need discipline in our lives if we want to get ahead. We have to pace ourselves if we want to be the winners. The rest of the Blue Team seem like a decent bunch of guys - well, there is a woman, too - Leung. The others are Edson, Dixon and Carter. Benton really laid Carter low. Assigned him the worst detail for our first day. I felt sorry for him, especially when I found out that he's been a student of Benton's since his third year of med school. Is he crazy? I arrived early for my shift - good thing too, because Carter was swamped in the ER. I helped him out and he seemed really grateful. I think I have found my first friend here in Chicago."
"Hey, Dennis, need a hand?" John Carter leaned into the exam room, holding onto the doorjamb with both hands. Dennis looked up sharply, waiting to see if John was going to fall into the room. The nurses and doctors in the Emergency Room had shared a lot of stories about John Carter and the special knack that he had for being ungraceful. A sudden thought raced through Dennis' brain and he shook his head, wanting to chase away the idea that John Carter would look especially graceful when naked.
"So, you don't need any help?" John asked.
"Actually, I'm expecting some labs. They're late, as usual. Benton will bite my head off if they aren't here by the time he gets back."
"Say no more. I'm already there."
"Thanks, John."
Dennis returned his attention to the arm gash that he was suturing on a sixty-year-old woman. She smiled warmly at him.
"I do so like to see people helping people. He must be a good friend of yours, right?"
"Yes, ma'am, he is. We help each other out as much as we can. It does make things easier around here."
"I would imagine it does. The world would be a much nicer place if more people helped each other instead of pulling each other down, don't you agree, Dr. Gant?"
Dennis smiled, "I most certainly do, Mrs. McKenzie. I most certainly do."
John returned shortly thereafter, delivering the lab results to Dennis a mere two minutes before Benton arrived, screaming for them. Dennis sent a short prayer to Heaven, thanking God for letting him find a true friend at County. He had already discovered that he couldn't trust Dale Edson. Dixon was cooperative, but he didn't go out of his way. Leung helped out, but only up to a point. John was the only one that he felt comfortable with, despite the frequency of his indecent thoughts regarding his fellow intern.
From the Journal of Dennis Gant
"What a day! I cannot believe what John pulled today. He was so desperate to get into surgery - he hasn't set foot in the OR since we began our internships - that he lied in order to get into an operating room. Anspaugh saw the fake surgery posted, a rare procedure that he wanted to observe. Imagine his shock and anger to walk into Benton's OR and find that Benton was removing a benign tumor instead. John readily took the blame. I discovered that when he's upset, extremely upset, he gets violently ill. I have never seen someone throw up that much. I finally talked him into taking compazine, to control the nausea, because we still had to do rounds. Poor guy experienced one side effect - muscle contractions of the neck. Anspaugh was merciless with him, Benton actually looked puzzled.
Then John's day got worse. He got down to the ER and discovered one of his neighbors there, being treated for smoke inhalation from a fire. Turns out the biddy burnt down the entire apartment building. Once more into the bathroom for John. He lost everything he owned in one fell sweep. "
Dennis got out of the Jeep and walked around to the sidewalk where John stood staring at the lonely remains of the three story building.
"Man, she wasn't lying when she said it burned down, was she?" Dennis asked as he surveyed the damage.
"No." John ducked under the yellow tape that the fire department had so thoughtfully wrapped around the charred studs. There had to be something left of his stuff. Something remaining to show he had lived there. Anything. It was getting dark and much more difficult to see anything in the ashes. He found a few odd things - a "Field and Stream" magazine, its cover untouched by the flames, sitting on top of a burned book. But nothing from his past. No photographs of his family. No mementos. Nothing. John angrily kicked at an oxygen tank. One of Betty's no doubt, he thought. She had been so stupid to be on oxygen and smoke cigarettes at the same time. She deserved to be burnt out. What had he and the others done to deserve this fate?
"John? Come on out of there. The place is condemned, man. It's not safe."
"Just give me another minute, okay?"
"Sure." Dennis watched as John sifted through more debris, knowing that he wouldn't find anything. He wondered where John was going to stay tonight, he could certainly offer him the spare room in his place. He had rented his two-bedroom apartment on a gut reaction to the place. It wasn't far from the hospital, it wasn't in a bad part of town, and it had a fireplace. That had been the main feature he had liked - he had heard horror stories about winters in Chicago and he was looking forward to sitting in front of his gas fireplace this winter, a beer in his hand, warm and cozy as he watched the snow fall through the windows that flanked the fireplace. The rent was high, but his parents were sending him money to help him out until he could get a savings account started with his pay as an intern.
John walked out of the wreckage of the building, soot on his face and hands, his eyes bleak. "It's all gone, Dennis. All of it."
"I know." Dennis pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wanting to clean John's face with it himself. Instead, he handed it to John, pointing out the areas that were blackened. As he watched John wipe his face, his mind flashed back to that morning, when he was giving John the compazine. He had injected it into the upper right quadrant of John's buttocks. So white, smooth and firm. His left hand had lightly brushed against John's skin and a thrill had run through him then. Luckily, Benton had chosen that moment to walk into the locker room because Dennis didn't know what he might have done next. His thoughts regarding John were beginning to excite him and frighten him at the same time. He valued John's friendship, but he was now dreaming about John. Sometimes those dreams included the two of them reclined on the floor of his apartment, no light except for what was coming from the fire. As snow fell outside, he kissed John, an excitement running through him as he tasted the other man and John's tongue sought entrance into his mouth. Then the kiss would end and as he pulled away from John, he would hear John whisper his name.
"Dennis?"
Dennis blinked hard, bringing himself back to the reality of the moment. He wasn't in his apartment with John Carter in his arms. He was standing on a Chicago sidewalk in front of a burned out and condemned building.
"What are you going to do, John? Do you have a place to stay?"
"I'm from here, remember? I can stay at my parent's house. They're out of the country, so they won't notice. Not that they would notice if they were in town. It's a big house, and it's easy to get lost in it."
"Well, we should get going. You still need to buy some clothes. I think the staff might notice if you keep showing up for work in the same clothing day after day."
"Yeah. Are you sure that you don't mind coming with me?"
"I didn't have anything better to do."
"I thought you were expecting a call from Monique tonight?"
"I am. But, I was expecting one from her last night, and she couldn'tbe bothered to call. So, if I miss her call because I need to help out my best friend, then I miss her call."
John suddenly grinned, "Do you mean that?"
"Of course I mean that. If the girl wants to play games with me, then..."
"No, not that part. The part about me being your best friend. Do you mean that?"
"Yeah, John. I mean that."
"Thanks, Dennis." John was still grinning and Dennis felt a momentary pang of pity for John if something as simple as that made him so happy. It briefly occurred to him that John must be lonely, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. John was bright, funny, and handsome. He certainly couldn't be lacking for friends.
Dennis smiled, "Let's get this shopping over with. But, I think that before you go into any stores, we should find a place where you can wash up. I don't think they'll want you touching the merchandise with soot covered hands."
John looked down at his hands. In the pale light from the street lamp, he could see that Dennis was right. "I can stop at a gas station, or a fast food place. I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Yeah." They got back in John's Jeep and drove off in search of food and clothing.
After a quick meal of burgers, shakes and fries, John shocked the pants off of Dennis by taking him to some of the nicest men's clothing stores he had ever been in. When John had first asked him to go shopping with him, he had envisioned a run through a local mall. He had not envisioned this. He had also not envisioned watching John buy over a thousand dollars worth of shirts without batting an eye. No fashionable brand names there. Just well made and expensive shirts. Although, since John had spent so much money on the shirts, the manager did offer a free monogram on the cuffs and John accepted. The bill increased when it came to buying suits, slacks and sport jackets. Dennis had known that John dressed well, he had just never appreciated the cost of doing so.
As he helped John carry the last of the items back to the Jeep he asked, "How can you afford all this on what we make? I know that you didn't get a check from the insurance company already."
"I have a trust fund that my grandparents set up when I was born. My credit cards are automatically paid from it, so I don't even have to worry about stroking out a check." John smiled at Dennis. "I'm glad you mentioned the insurance check. I totally forgot to call the insurance company. I am so glad that my parents insisted that I get renters' insurance." Then John frowned, "I wonder how many of the other tenants had it?"
"A lot of people don't bother with it. They tend to think that nothing bad will happen to them."
"What about you? Do you have it?"
"My Dad insisted on it."
"Good." John started the Jeep, then paused and looked over at Dennis. "Do you need to go home now?"
"No. Why? What's going on in your head, John?" Dennis had seen that look in John's eyes before. The boy was plotting something. Hopefully, this something wouldn't get him written up by the Chief of Staff. Again.
"I want to find out where all my neighbors have gone. Make sure they're all right and have what they need. Get them money for clothes and a new place to live."
"You sound like you can afford to do that, John."
John thought for a second, then nodded, "I can."
Dennis laughed, "Do I even want to know how much money you have in that trust fund of yours?"
"Um, I'm not sure of the exact amount, but it's around four or five hundred."
"You just spent thousands of dollars on clothes, so how can you afford that if you only have four or five hundred dollars?"
"Four or five hundred thousand." John said, so matter-of-factly that Dennis wanted to slap him.
Dennis laughed, "And I'm worried that you can't afford what you just bought. Let's go see if we can find your neighbors!"
John drove off, thinking that he liked the way Dennis laughed. He was beginning to like a lot of the things that Dennis did. It had stunned him though, when Dennis had said he was his best friend. He had never really had one of those before. He had his roommates in boarding school - at least in the later years. In the earlier years he had shared a ward with other boys. But, his roommates were never his best friends. Friends, yes, but not best friends. The closest he had ever come to that had been after he joined a fraternity at Penn State. He ended up sharing a room with Jim Dixon, a football player from Virginia. They had been roommates for only a week before they became lovers, and that had only ended when they graduated. Jim went on to law school and John to medical school. They still exchanged Christmas Cards as a way to keep in touch. They had not been a couple while in college - no way was that happening. Too dangerous. They had dated women, bedded women. They had even bedded other guys from time to time. But, Jim had been his best friend then. And now Dennis thought he was his best friend now. There were a lot of similarities between Jim and Dennis. They had similar personalities and each man had a great sense of humor. John couldn't help but wonder if Dennis shared other traits with Jim - such as liking other men. Had it been his imagination or had Dennis touched him on his butt when he was giving him the compazine shot that morning? He hoped he hadn't imagined it. He would like nothing more than to get to know Dennis a lot better.
From the Journal of Dennis Gant:
".........John was complaining that the maid put too much starch in his shirts. There he is, with this huge house all to himself, and he's complaining about starch. I wanted to ask him if he had heard from his parents, but felt that might be too nosy on my part. I did impulsively tell him that he could move in with me. Held my breath too until he answered yes. So, tomorrow, John is moving into the spare room. Thank you, Daddy for insisting I get a two bedroom place. I did have to assure John that I would not put too much starch in his shirts. I think he appreciated that gesture."
By some amazing stroke of luck, John had the entire day off. Since Dennis had to work, he gave John the extra key and directions to his place. He told John that there was a bed already in the spare room, and a chest of drawers. Anything else he needed or wanted, he would have to purchase. Dennis offered to go out with John later to buy more furniture and help move it in. John told him that he would think about that, but first he had to see if his meager belongings would fit in the chest of drawers.
Moving in had been so easy - not much to it when all you have is a suitcase full of clothing, John thought. All that he had fit into the closet and the chest of drawers. Now he had to think about anything else he might need for the room. Dennis had the living room, dining room and kitchen covered. There was a wide screen television and excellent stereo system in the living room. Plenty of dishes in the kitchen. A lot of food, too. The dining room table was also new, with four chairs surrounding it. The linen closet was packed with soft fluffy towels and washcloths, so John didn't need to buy any of that. He would need more sheets though, because Dennis only had the one set for the spare bed. For his bed, now. John went out shopping, returning to the apartment to discover that Dennis was now home from work. He could hear Dennis in the shower, it sounded extra loud because Dennis had not closed his bedroom door. That was another feature of the apartment that John liked - each man had his own bathroom. Well, Dennis had his own bathroom. John had to use the one in the hallway, but for all intents and purposes, it was his.
John emptied his shopping bags on the couch and separated the sheet sets he had bought. While shopping, he had decided to buy some sheets for Dennis' bed as well - no sense leaving his roommate out of the excitement of having something new. Not when Dennis had been so gracious as to let him move in with him.
"I see that you've been shopping again," Dennis' voice sounded amused.
John looked over to where Dennis stood in the hallway and grinned. "It looked like we needed more sheets, so I bought some."
"We?"
"I got some for you, too." John had to quickly look away as Dennis came to sit on the other end of the couch. Dennis was only wearing a pair of jockey shorts and they were displaying his attributes quite nicely. John knew he had no business thinking about Dennis in a sexual way, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that his roommate was barely dressed.
Dennis examined each package, then nodded, "Thanks, John. Say, are you hungry?"
"Yeah." John had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying that he was hungry for Dennis and not for food. That would get him kicked out of there in a heartbeat.
"Can you cook?"
John grinned, "I can heat up things, but I can't cook. Never had to."
"Then how did you eat before?"
"I ate at the hospital a lot and I heated up a lot of soup and frozen meals."
"Well, I was going to suggest that you pick out something to cook while I got dressed, but I think I had better do that."
"Dennis, I can pick out food. Go get dressed."
John headed for the kitchen while Dennis returned to his room. Having something to do kept John's mind off of the way he was beginning to feel about Dennis. He decided they would have steak and salad, there were also some frozen vegetables - certainly none of that could be difficult to prepare. He knew enough to wash the salad vegetables before slicing them and he was happily cutting up a bell pepper when Dennis entered the kitchen.
"What did you find?" he asked as he stepped up to the counter, grabbed a piece of bell pepper and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Steak, salad and vegetables. I can handle the salad part, you need to take care of the rest."
"No problem." Dennis went to the stove and started with the main part of the meal while John continued to prepare the salad. All that remained was the lettuce and John wasn't sure what to do with it once he had it washed. He set it on the cutting board and stared at it for a short while, wondering just how one went about cutting a head of lettuce. Once he thought he had it figured out, he picked up the larger knife and began to saw away at it. He wasn't sure if the lettuce rolled, or if he was just careless, but the next thing he knew, the blade of the knife was cutting into the fleshy part of his hand between the thumb and forefinger.
"Damn!" He dropped the knife to the counter and began to suck on the bleeding wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
"Here." Dennis grabbed his hand and stuck in under a stream of running water, washing it gently with antibacterial soap. "Are you sure you should be in surgery?"
"Ha ha, very funny. It's not deep is it?"
"I can't tell yet." Dennis cut off the water and dried the area, which still insisted on bleeding. "It doesn't look deep. I think that you can get by with a simple bandage. Just stand here and hold your hand over the sink, okay?"
John stood there, watching his blood drip into the sink as Dennis went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Dennis put a pressure bandage on the wound, then made John sit down while he cleaned up the mess.
"I think we had better keep the first aid kit in here from now on," Dennis couldn't keep from grinning. John obviously knew how to handle a scalpel or he wouldn't have made it this far, so John's injury wasn't caused by his own inability to handle a knife. Just his own ignorance of what to do with a head of lettuce, Dennis thought as he surveyed the slashed greenery. John had somehow managed to keep his blood off of the food, so Dennis was able to rip the lettuce into shreds and put it in the bowl with the rest of the salad.
"Now, did you see what I did with the lettuce? You don't cut it, John. You tear it."
"I'll remember that. Provided I ever want to eat salad again."
"Don't pout. It's not your fault you're helpless in the kitchen. I'm sure that your family's maid never let you help out, right?"
"I guess I'm not that great a catch as a roommate, Dennis. I'm sorry." John was no longer pouting, he was now looking downcast.
"Hey, I didn't ask you to move in here because I was looking for a cook. I asked you in here because --- well, because I like you and you're my best friend. We'll work out something. I can cook and you can do the cleaning. You do know how to wash dishes, don't you?"
"I can manage that. My apartment had a dishwasher and a sink."
"What about bathrooms?"
"Sorry, the maid took care of that; but, when I was in boarding school and college, I did my share of cleaning."
"See? We can work something out. How does your hand feel?"
"It still hurts, but it's not as bad."
"Did your mom ever do that thing about kissing a hurt to make it better?" Dennis smiled as he remembered all the times his mother had done just that for him. The strange thing was that it often worked. Maybe someday science would figure out why.
"Mom wasn't around that much." To the best of his knowledge, John had never been injured in the presence of his mother. "My parents traveled a lot before my brother died and after he died they put my sister and me in boarding school and traveled even more. The nurse at school never kissed anything to make it feel better." John hoped he didn't sound as bitter about that as he felt.
"I'm sorry about that, John. Here." Dennis impulsively reached out and grabbed John's hand, then lifted it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the bandage. "That should make it feel better."
John's insides felt as if they were melting. While the bandage kept him from actually feeling the kiss itself, the very idea of Dennis touching his lips to him was intoxicating. As Dennis let go of his hand and returned to preparing dinner, John sat there, bewildered by this turn of events. Was this normal? Was Dennis maybe telling him that he was interested in him as something other than a friend? John found himself wishing he was from a somewhat normal family so he would know whether or not it was considered okay for a man to kiss another man's injury. His family didn't do a lot of touching period and John had discovered in college that the touch of another human was something he craved and enjoyed.
From the Journal of Dennis Gant:
"It's been a week since I kissed John's "boo-boo". I think I lost my fucking mind when I did that. I don't know why I did it. Don't know if I'm glad I did it. The look in his eyes when I kissed the bandage on his hand was indecipherable. At first, I thought he was shocked, but the more I think about it, the more I think that he was just surprised and confused. But, I'm not sure what had him confused. Could it be possible that he wanted more or am I just dreaming about that? I do know that the more I hear about his family, the more I hate them. They are so screwed up and I think they might have him all screwed up as well. There are times when I hear him say something that sounds odd and I think that he was just plucked out of somewhere isolated and set down in the real world without any clue at all.
John acts as if it's a great game now. Anytime he bumps into something or hurts himself in any way, he looks at me, his eyes innocent and wide, and asks me if I can kiss the hurt away. Lordy, if he only knew what he was doing to me. So far, he hasn't slipped up while at work and asked me that. But, I would love to see the look on Benton's face if John ever did. I find myself dreaming about John every night - beautiful dreams filled with me loving him and him asking me to kiss the hurt away. I have not had a wet dream since I was fifteen years old and wild about Tiffany Jenkins - now I find myself having one every night. John is even invading my conscious thoughts. I will find myself fantasizing about him while I'm supposed to be working. If I don't get my desires under control soon, then I'm afraid I'll mess up in the OR. If only Monique would come for a visit or call more often, then my need would not be as great. If only I could say the same about my want."
Dennis gave up his effort to quit thinking about John. He could hear him in the shower now, naked, wet and warm in the next room. He could envision John rubbing the bar of soap all over his body, the lather covering him like another skin, then John would stand under the hot water, twisting his body every which way as he rinsed off. Then John would wash his hair, lifting his arms toward his head and leaving the rest of his body exposed. One more rinsing and he would be done. Dennis' hand slid under the waistband of his shorts and he moaned as he stroked his throbbing penis. John would then turn off the water and reach for the towel. Dennis could see John using the dark blue towel. John looked really good in blue scrubs and he knew that John would look good in that towel. But, in this fantasy, John would not wear the towel. After drying his body, he would hang the towel up, then walk to the sink where he would comb his hair and brush his teeth. Then he would leave the bathroom and walk to his bedroom, still totally naked. In these visions, John never covered himself. He was always naked, desirable and ready.
Dennis didn't realize that the apartment was now totally quiet until John's voice broke through the silence, calling out his name from the doorway. He jerked his hand out of his pants as he wondered if he had left his door ajar or if John had opened the door.
"Dennis? Are you okay?"
The hallway, like Dennis' bedroom, was dark and Dennis couldn't see John's face. He could hear the worry in his voice though. Hopefully, John had no idea of what he had interrupted.
"Dennis?"
"I'm okay, John. Go to bed."
"Are you sure? You didn't sound fine when you called me."
"I must have been dreaming. Sorry." Christ! He did not remember calling out John's name. He was going to have to be more careful from now on or else he would scare John away. That was a thought that he couldn't bear to dwell upon.
"That must have been some dream," John sounded as if he was smiling.
"Yeah, it was." Dennis found himself smiling, too. Dennis didn't hear anything else for a few minutes. He had just told himself that John had gone on to his own room when John spoke again.
"So, you don't have any hurts that need to be kissed better?"
"No," Dennis said, not quite able to pinpoint the tone he heard in John's voice. It had been almost hopeful.
"I do." John's voice was almost a whisper.
"You've hurt yourself again?" Dennis couldn't help but grin.
"No. It's not a cut or a bruise. It's a terrible ache, Dennis. Can you kiss it and make it better?" John asked as he walked toward the bed.
"Come here." Dennis sat upright and clicked on the bedside lamp, then turned his head to look at John. The sight before him made his heart jump into his throat. John was clad in only a big fluffy, dark blue towel. It hugged his hips nicely and Dennis had to force himself to sound normal as he asked, "Where does it hurt?"
He looked up at John's face and what he saw in those dark brown eyes took his breath away. It was desire. Pure, unadulterated desire. The look in John's eyes was far from innocent. They were smoldering as they gazed down at Dennis. Dennis held his breath as John's hands undid the towel and let it drop to the floor. John's body looked exactly as he had imagined, except the reality of John's hardness was far superior to any fantasy.
"I'm so hard that it hurts, Dennis." John's voice was low and husky.
Maybe this is another wet dream, Dennis thought. If so, then nothing would happen that would scare John away. He reached out and lightly ran a finger along the shaft of John's penis, liking the way it flexed under his touch.
"I think I can help you feel better."
John smiled. "I was hoping you could."
Dennis smiled up at him as he began to pump the swollen organ. It didn't escape his attention that John was thrusting his hips toward him in time with the pumping. Finally though, Dennis leaned over and did what he wanted most - he wrapped his lips around the tip of John's penis and slowly sucked his way down the shaft. John's moans created a shock wave of desire in his own body and he could feel his own penis harden even further. If this was a dream, then Dennis never wanted to awaken from it.