"I know." John softly said. "But, it's her job to be a bitch. That baby...Dave, the parents had to have been scared to death when Mike took that car. You're naturally going to look at this from the viewpoint of being Mike's brother, but those parents had their child taken away and they didn't care if Mike knew the baby was there or not. All they cared about was that someone took their baby. Can I ask you a question?"
Dave shrugged defensively. "Sure."
"Was Mike caught or did he give himself up when he discovered the baby was in the car?"
"Didn't know what ta do when it started howling. Went ta the car yard. Said he even tried ta feed it with a bottle that was there. Dunno 'bout that though." Dave gave a glimmer of a grin. "Can't imagine Mike tryin' ta feed a baby."
John couldn't help but grin at that image either. Even though he had never even seen a picture of Mike Malucci, he imagined him being very much like Dave, and the idea of Dave feeding a baby just seemed odd. "But Mike didn't stop and hand the baby over to someone when he found it? He kept the baby?" John finally asked.
"He wouldn't have. He'da found a way ta give it back."
"Dave, was Mike caught immediately or did it take days for him to get caught?" John persisted. He wasn't quite clear on the details of the carjacking.
"Few hours."
"So, he really didn't have a chance to get the baby to anyone, did he?"
"Huh? He'da given it back."
"If Mike were caught just a few hours after he stole the car, then he didn't have much of a chance to give the baby back, or to find a way to get it to someone...a hospital or some place like that. And you say he tried to feed it, right? A cold blooded kidnapper wouldn't have even cared about feeding the baby. So, you're right. The DA was a bitch for saying that about your brother." John leaned back in the water and stretched his legs, savoring the warmth.
"Yeah, a real bitch." Dave relaxed a bit, glad that someone else agreed with him. "Bitch. Bitch. Bitch." Dave grabbed a bit of cheese and bit into it, as savagely as if it was the DA herself.
"Exactly. Who cares if the mother or father stood there out on the street after Mike stole the car...looking after it, Hell, probably running after it, screaming for their child? After all, Mike didn't *mean* to take the kid. It's not his fault he was in such a hurry that he didn't look in the car before he pulled the driver out and hijacked it, right?" John casually asked.
Dave felt like he'd just had a sucker punch landed square in his gut. He looked at Carter with a mix of surprise and hurt, and opened his mouth a time or two without emitting any sound. "Forget it. Just forget I told you." Dave started to scramble out of the pool. "An he didn't carjack it. The mother left it outside a shop an' went in without the kid. So there."
"Well, that's different then, isn't it, Dave? A neglectful mother like that should have expected that someone would take her car and her kid if she carelessly left them alone. Guess she was stupid enough to leave the keys in it, too, right?" John watched Dave get out of the water and noticed the large rip in the seat of the pants. It almost made him smile. He just couldn't understand how Dave could get so riled at work over children being endangered but was so blind as to what his brother had done. Then again, John thought with a sigh, it really wasn't any of his business what Dave thought about his brother. "You know what? Forget I asked that. It's not my business anyway."
"Damn right it isn't." Dave stood still, unsure about what to do next. "He's a good brother."
"I'm sure he is. He's just...careless. I mean, if you're going to steal a car, then you should have enough sense to look in the backseat before you take it. But, I'm just a spoiled rich kid, what do I know about stealing cars? For all I know, it was the first time he'd ever stolen a car and had no idea what he was doing. But being careless isn't the same as being bad." John rested his head against the edge of the Jacuzzi and closed his eyes. "You never did say if your legs were feeling better from the hot water. Are they?"
"Careless. That's it. He was just careless." It had been far from the first time Mike had ever stolen a car but that didn't seem to be a point to labour. "Good brother. Got food when we were hungry. A good brother." Dave reiterated.
"Right," John agreed. "Well? Do you feel better or do you need to soak some more?"
Dave walked slowly back to the pool and slipped in. "Soak."
John was tempted to offer to massage Dave's sore thighs, but he didn't think that offer would go over too well. What they needed was another topic of conversation. "So, how do you think your evaluation will go?"
Dave shrugged. "Okay, I think. The Chief's okay. Probably complain 'bout my reports -- she hates my writing." The water was washing comfortably over Dave's legs, he settled back. "How 'bout yours?"
"It should go okay. I've never had a bad eval and I'm not expecting one now." John grinned. "And Weaver can read my handwriting."
Dave grinned back. "Well, we all know you're just perfect."
"Don't we though?" John joked. There was still the little matter of getting around to telling Weaver about his near relapse back in December, but aside from that he had done well. "I can tell you exactly what will be on it," he added.
"Yeah. Hit me."
"Okay. Now, it won't be in these exact words, but it'll say that I'm good with patients, that I have good diagnostic skills and keep my head in trauma situations. Weaver will then go on to say that I tend to not listen to the Attendings, and often will do procedures without their knowledge or against their advice and that I need to work on following their orders." John reached his hand to the back of his neck and massaged the area, then settled back into the water. "She'll then ask if I have anything to add or if I think anything in it is wrong, I'll say no, and then I'll sign it and go on my way."
Dave grinned steadily all through the description -- it did sound a very plausible review for Carter to get. It took him a moment or two to figure out what was wrong in the description. "What about Christmas and the Vicodin?"
John closed his eyes. "What about them?"
"You're not goin' to tell her? Or ya told her last week?"
"I haven't had a chance to tell Dr. Weaver about it yet. But I will." John said. And he meant it. He'd find some time to tell her. But it had to be the *right* time. And she hadn't been in the best of moods lately. "I'll tell her."
"Ya need to tell her, Hoss. She gets sorer 'bout not knowing things than she ever does 'bout the thing itself. Ya gotta tell her. Otherwise when she does find out she'll be shitting bricks."
"And I will tell her. I just have to find the right time. She's been in a bad mood all week and I don't want to tell her when she's already in a bad mood. I want to catch her at a good time. Besides, it's not a big deal, Dave. I threw up the pills, so it really doesn't count." John earnestly said.
"'Tis a big deal, you swallowed that shit. An' she'll be madder than hell if ya go past the eval without tellin her. That's when ya supposed to talk 'bout stuff like that." Dave leaned forward on the seat, looking at Carter. "Ya got to tell her."
"And I said I'd tell her, so lay off, okay? Jeez, you act like I'm a junkie or something. *I* wasn't taking those drugs just for a cheap high, I was in pain. There were extenuating circumstances. I'm not like those people who wander in off the streets looking for a free shot of something." John knew he wasn't like them. And not like his cousin, either. Chase had turned to drugs because his life was dull and lifeless. Not because he was in physical and emotional pain from nearly being killed and also getting someone else killed in the process. John needed another distraction and he knew the perfect way to get Dave's mind away from those damn pills. He knew he was taking a risk of also running Dave out of the Jacuzzi, but it was better than getting another lecture on what a screw up he was for not telling on himself.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves as well as gather in air, John slipped under the water and headed straight for Dave's nearest thigh. Once there he blew out air, creating bubbles that danced along Dave's skin. Then he stuck his tongue out and licked the skin before needing to come up for air. "If you're still sore, I can massage you," John offered with a smile.
The bubbles on Dave's thigh felt great, weird but great. "Um sure." He tried one last attempt at making Carter see reason. "Buy ya a beer if ya tell her."
John shook his head. "Not supposed to drink." He stood in front of Dave and reached down with his hands and began to gently massage that thigh. It was so muscular that John couldn't get both hands around it. "I could massage something else, too," John offered in another attempt to get Dave's mind away from the pills. Dave's balls were soft and pliable under his touch.
"Soda? Ticket to the Bulls? Ohhhhhhhhhh." It felt great to have Carter touching him there. Great. Dave wiggled forward on the seat.
John continued to carefully massage Dave's balls, gently rolling them around in his palm. If he got Dave hard again then maybe he could get Dave to fuck him once more before he had to take Dave home. Or he could even make Dave wait until they got to his place. John hadn't been with Dave there yet. "When do you have to go home?" John asked.
"Ohhhhh." Dave moved his legs apart to allow Carter better access. He heard the fabric rip more as he did so. "God." It seemed like each time Carter touched him was better than before. "Don't. Working days up till Wednesday" Dave wiggled at Carter's touch but tried to concentrate. "Don't start till noon tomorrow though, Cleo wanted the evening...Ohhhhhh."
"Then we..." John's fingers found the rip in the fabric and wiggled their way through to caress Dave's hard cock, "can go upstairs to my room. I've got plenty of condoms and lube." No sense to shock Dave by telling him that condoms and lubricant were now apparently a standard shopping list item for the household. John had come home from work one day to find two boxes of condoms and two bottles of lubricant, his favorite brand, under the sink in the bathroom. He didn't have the courage to ask about how they got there.
Dave pushed himself into Carter's hand. It was very tight inside the small shorts, but Dave didn't want Carter's hand to leave or stop touching for so much as a second. "God." A stray thought surfaced in Dave's mind. "Said I was the last person in the world y'd touch." Dave regretted the sentence before it was half out. Shit. Carter couldn't stop touching him now, he couldn't
John shook his head as he watched Dave's face. "No, what I said was that I wouldn't touch you if you were the only other person left on earth. But, seeing as how there are still millions of people alive, I don't think that's a concern, do you?" John wrapped his hand tightly around Dave's cock. "So, shall we go upstairs?"
Dave found himself lost inside Carter's words. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the hand on the cock, and the person on the other end. He grunted. "'kay."
John pulled up on the cock, knowing Dave would have no choice but to follow or else risk having his cock slip from John's hand or be in a lot of pain. "Let's go." As John turned, his own trunks slipped down over his hips, but this time he let them fall. They weren't needed. He bent over to slip them off.
Dave took in the view of Carter's white ass cheeks and tall scarred back in front of him. He didn't want the guy to let go of his cock for a second. Dave put his hands on the hips in front of him. "Lead on."
*****************************************
Dave looked around the admit desk, and spotted Chuny. He sidled up to her, and grinned. "So got any bed-pans you need scrubbing?"
Chuny grinned back, sensing that something was up in the air. "A few. Why? Are you looking for something to keep you out of trouble, Malucci?"
Dave smiled. "Always willing to help out a friend. Where're they?"
Chuny laughed. "Not so fast, 'friend'. Who are you helping out and why, or no deal."
"You, my friend. I'm helping you out -- taking a nasty chore off your hands, purely because I am a nice guy."
"You're going to clean the bedpans yourself?" Chuny asked, a wary look in her eyes. "Why don't I quite believe you?"
Dave grinned. "Because, today, I have a personal slave at my command." Dave whistled to get the attention of Carter -- who he'd just spotted about to enter the lounge. "Yo Carter. Over here." He returned his attention to Chuny, "And rest assured, anyone who thinks that the Vikings could beat the Giants in the playoffs, and would *bet* against them, well he just deserves to clean out bedpans."
Chuny laughed. "I see your point. I can show you the way to the bedpans, or I can lead both of you there. Your choice."
John walked over to where he saw Dave with Chuny. The look on Dave's face and Chuny's laughter told him that this wasn't going to be good. He had been waiting since Monday for the axe to finish falling on that stupid football bet. Dave had tactfully accepted the fifty dollars, but no mention had been made of the scut work. Knowing he was going to regret his words, John asked, "What's up?"
"Ah, Carter." Dave grinned. "Chuny here has a fine set of bedpans that need scrubbing. They'll do for starters, I'm sure I can find more later." Dave grinned, then patted a large pile of charts he had in front of him. "These're for all through the shift. Go over 'em and if there's anything you think the Chief might have trouble reading correct it. You can dot any *i*s and *j*s too."
John was right -- he regretted asking. Still, he had made the bet and he knew he would be just as ruthless with Dave if the Vikings had won the way they were supposed to have done. But he didn't have to let Dave know that he was doing this willingly. "Anything else, Dr. Malucci? Maybe follow you to the bathroom to wipe your butt?" John blithely asked, hoping to get a reaction out of him.
Chuny snickered. "Follow me to the bedpans."
Dave did a double take then shot a glance at Chuny. Carter shouldn't be talking about stuff like that *here*. He did his best to regain his composure though, and shrugged. "Nah, but if ya *want* to then Chuny might have a patient..."
John grinned. "If Chuny needs assistance in the ladies room, then I'd be honored to assist her."
Chuny rolled her eyes. "Please spare me. I've already made the mistake once of getting involved with a doctor and it's not a mistake I'm going to make again. Now, follow me like a good scut puppy. You do remember how to be a scut puppy, don't you, Carter?"
"That's something you never forget, Chuny." He said with a grin. He looked over his shoulder at Dave. "Just whistle if you need me, Dr. Malucci." Then he followed Chuny to the bedpans.
Dave looked around at the admit desk, and the nurses. He smiled at them. "Anyone got something they want Carter ta do, just ask me." He hoped Carter would get to the charts -- well he'd remind him if he didn't. The evaluations were coming up soon, and Carter's charts were always *perfect* -- his own charts were as good as he could make them, but with Carter's *perfection* added on top maybe he could see how to improve. Without actually having to ask -- it was worth hoping for anyway. Dave whistled, and then looked through the charts of all unallocated patients, and snabbled a dislocated knee.
Ten minutes later, John was gloved and busy cleaning. Not that they were in bad shape, but still....he wrinkled his nose as he tried to *not* smell what had been in them. And they reminded him all too much of when he was stuck in a hospital bed and having to pee in either a bedpan or a bottle. Not a pleasant memory at all. Dave will pay dearly for this, he thought. Very dearly. The next bet was going to be better. More intense. An 'everything' type bet, as in the loser would totally and completely be at the mercy of the winner. That brought a smile to his face.
Before declaring himself done with the bedpans, John found Chuny to get her seal of approval. And Chuny just had to make sure that they met Haleh's standards. Which they did. He gratefully slipped off the gloves, then headed for the board. He was about to grab a patient when he spied the pile of charts Dave had left for him. He'd get to them right after he took care of the mother with a sore wrist. Whistling, John headed for his patient, waving at Dave as he passed by the exam room where Dave was busy with a patient of his own. Probably a good case, John thought. Something fun. Not something boring like a sore wrist which was most likely carpal tunnel syndrome or tendonitis.
"Mrs. Blake, I'm Dr. Carter. You're complaining of a sore wrist?" John asked as he stepped into the room. He ended up ordering labs and x-rays, then had to wait for the results. So he headed off to the lounge with Dave's charts. And ran into Dr. Weaver.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Weaver," he greeted her.
Kerry eyed him with amusement, having already heard about the lost bet being settled. "Good afternoon. You've got a lot of charts there. Been busy?"
"A little bit. I'm waiting on some labs and films so I thought I'd get these charts out of the way." John said as he sat down at the table.
"I see," Kerry said as she turned to pour a cup of coffee that she placed in front of him. "It's not like you to let your charts get that far behind. Especially when it's not quite one in the afternoon and you've only been on duty since noon."
He cleared his throat. "They're mostly done. I just want to check over them."
"I see." She picked up the top one and flipped it open. "Yes, they definitely need checking over, Carter. I'll leave you alone so you can get started."
He sighed in relief as she walked out of the room and then he started to look over Dave's charts.
Kerry walked out to the admit area. "Is Malucci around?" she asked Chuny.
Dave sauntered back to the desk, while his current patient got films. "Hey Chief." He smiled at her. "Need anything?"
"We need to talk. Follow me." Kerry saw on the board that exam one was empty, so she led him in there. "You seem to be in a good mood today, Malucci. Any particular reason why?" She asked with a smile.
Dave smiled at her. "What is it Chief? Yeah, got fifty bucks in my pocket and...
"And Carter to do all your scut work for you?" She grinned. "I've already heard that he was cleaning bedpans on your orders." She held up her hand. "Personally, I think it's a waste of an education, but Carter was stupid enough to make the bet with you and honorable enough to abide by it. Just be careful how far you push him, Malucci, okay? I don't mind if he reviews your charts, but I don't want to see him filling them out for you in the first place, is that understood? Hopefully, once you see what corrections he makes to your charts, you'll learn how to do them properly. Just don't humiliate him too much." Kerry opened the door, then turned and smiled back at Dave. "Fifty bucks and doing all your scut work? That was some bet. Anyway, Carter's in the lounge if you need him."
Dave turned away from the door and his Chief, the good humour turned to ashes in his mouth. His plan for nearly perfect charts for his evaluation exposed and foiled. "Whatever. If ya already know whatcha goin' ta say why not just give me ma eval now?"
Kerry turned back around. "Do you really want it now, Malucci? It's not quite finished, but I can have it done by five. I didn't want to rush it, since I do like to be fair, but if you want it today then I can make that happen. It's your choice." She pleasantly said.
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter." It had probably been a stupid idea to think that improving his charts this close to it would have had any effect anyway. "That all?"
"Then we'll stick to the original schedule and you'll get your review at eight on Wednesday morning. Malucci -- Dave, it's not a bad evaluation. It really isn't. And you can learn a lot from Carter if you'd just take the time to listen and to watch him from time to time." Then Kerry smiled. "Anyhow, you had a good idea about having him do your charts, but I've worked with Carter for years and I know his style far too well to have ever mistaken his work for yours. But it was a good try." And then she did leave the room.
Dave grimaced. He hadn't wanted the Chief to think that Carter's work was his, not *really*. It would have been good if she had -- but at least partly because that would mean that his charts were nearly perfect, too. But Carter wrote perfectly and neatly -- he probably even knew what the hell a subjunctive was.
Dave kicked the base of a bed, then threw the frustration aside and went out to the desk to grab the first chart he could see
After going over two of Dave's charts, John went to see if Mrs. Blake's labs and films were ready. They weren't and he didn't really want to go back to the lounge to do another chart. Dave had horrible handwriting, even though his notes were concise and seemed to be complete. But his notes didn't tell the *whole* story about what had happened with the patient. They were too short, too compact. In a way, Dave's notes reminded John of the man himself -- he kept his words short and concise and he didn't reveal everything that was going on. It could be frustrating at times, but John was starting to learn how to live with that. And, more importantly, how to get around Dave's habit of hiding. "Takes one to know one, John," he muttered to himself.
He saw Dave coming down the hallway and he smiled. "Hey, Dr. Malucci, the bedpans are all clean."
"That's good." Dave didn't want to mention the charts, but he did want them done, he waited until he was nearly past Carter before he muttered. "You Weaverfied those charts yet?"
"Two are done. But I think she knows I'm going over them for you. She was in the lounge when I went in to do them and she grabbed the one off the top. She didn't say anything about it though, so it must be okay." John caught up to Dave and fell into step beside him. "I'm waiting on some labs and a film on a patient." There was no one near them and John lowered his voice. "I could make time for something more physical. That is, if you have the need of relief." He offered.