Author/pseudonym: Clotho & Cathy
Email address: clothomoerae@hotmail.com and huntersglenn@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: 6/8
Pairing: John Carter/Dave Malucci
Date: May 23, 2001
Archive: Not without permission. The story and its prequel, "Bottoms Up", can be found at Clotho's fanfic site http://home.talkcity.com/antennaav/fatespinner/ and at the Carterfics site http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Boutique/7087/
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. We owe a huge "Thank you" to Alice and Melissa, our wonderful editors. We couldn't have done it without the two of you!
Summary: It's New Year's Day - the morning after the night before. Contains spoiler for Season 7.
As John went up the stairs, he was still angry. Why did Dave have to make everything so damn hard? All John had wanted was to get some relief from his back. A little understanding from Dave while he was doing it would have been nice. But did he get that from Dave? John shook his head. No. All he got was, don't go to the whirlpool, go to the bedroom. And then when John said he was going upstairs to his room, he got that damn 'whatever' -- John was at his wits' end at what to do or think around Dave.
******
Dave watched in disbelief as the pans cascaded to the floor. One rolled over to him, and landed on his foot. When the last tinkle of metal against imported Italian ceramic tile had died down Dave looked up. Carter was gone.
Gone.
Dave looked at the food in front of him, and his stomach turned.
He stood up and walked back to the pool-room. He wasn't going to stay anywhere where things were thrown at him. It wasn't worth the grief. Not at all. There weren't many clearer ways of saying 'get out' than throwing a pan-full of food at someone, and Carter had just done that. So Dave would get.
Dave found his way back to the pool-room easily. He didn't usually have a bad sense of direction - but it was a large house, and it had been dark night when he arrived. His clothes were over by the lounge chair from last night, he hurried toward them - he'd get dressed and leave. Then found himself flying though the air and landing heavily on one side.
Shit.
Oil and water and marble were a potent combination.
From where he had landed he could see his muscle shirt. Soaking wet, and half on the edge of the whirlpool. He couldn't put it on again. It would be freezing outside in it - and besides it would smell of Carter.
Dave scrambled up, and made his way to the rest of this clothes. It was a meagre pile. Jeans and boxers and sneakers. That was it. And he'd dripped water over them all in his earlier haste to get to the muscle shirt.
It didn't take more than thirty seconds to get dressed. There was no point trying to ring a cab - he didn't know where he was, and anyway nothing could get in that gate. He'd walk, maybe hail one from the street.
Dave wasn't too sure if he could find his way to the door they'd entered the house through last night. But it didn't matter. There was a door from this room leading to what must be the outdoor pool area. He undid the floor and ceiling bolts then left, shutting the door behind him.
*****
As the hot water started to work on relaxing his spasming back muscles, John's temper started to dwindle. He really had behaved badly by throwing that pan. But that pan had symbolized just how he had felt -- a failure. A complete and total failure. His Gamma would have been horrified to have seen him do that. And in front of a guest, no less.
John turned off the shower and reached for a towel. He would go and apologize to Dave. Hopefully, Dave would forgive him for acting like a child. John pulled on some casual clothes and headed down to the kitchen.
*****
Outside it was cold. Very cold.
Very cold, and this side of the house was in the shade. Dave quickly walked around the corner to outside the flower room - that had been sunny.
It was a relief to get into the sun - but a short lived one. It was still cold. Still very cold.
Still, if he followed around here eventually he'd find his way to the car-park, and the road off the estate. Dave walked fast, keeping his eyes on the path - he didn't want to fall down again like he had in the pool room. Fast was also warmer.
*****
Dave wasn't in the kitchen, but a mess was. John cleaned up the burned French toast from the floor and picked up a few of the pans. Dave had either tried to find his way upstairs or gone to the pool room again. John smiled as he remembered what he and Dave had done earlier in the pool room. It had been good. Very good. How had things gone so wrong so quickly?
A shadow passed by the kitchen door and John walked over to it. None of the staff was expected back yet. Looking out, John saw someone walking away from the house. Someone dressed in jeans, with no shirt. Dave.
Shit. What in the Hell was Dave doing walking outside half dressed?
John unlocked the door as quickly as he could, then stepped outside.
"Dave?" he called out. "Dave!"
*****
He suddenly heard someone calling his name, and turned around. Carter. Carter holding a fry-pan.
Well, Dave didn't need to have *two* fry-pans thrown at him in one morning to get the message.
After a few steps his body began to ache. Where he'd fallen just now. His asshole. The punches from last night. The places Carter had bitten him. They all ached. But he kept running.
Down the drive.
Away from the house.
Away from Carter.
*****
John stared; his mouth open as Dave looked at him and then turned around and started to run. Why was Dave running? Running away from him? John knew he could never catch up to Dave on foot, so he grabbed his keys from the counter where he had tossed them last night, tossed the pan in the general direction of the counter, not caring where it landed, and headed for his Jeep. He could catch up to Dave. Find out what was wrong *now*! Jesus, he wasn't this upset about him throwing a tantrum, was he?
John started the Jeep and took off down the drive, easily gaining on Dave. He pulled alongside of him and rolled down his window so he would talk to him. Get him to stop and get into the Jeep.
*****
Dave heard the Jeep coming up behind him. He lengthened his stride - ignoring all the muscle aches. It didn't do any good, of course.
The driveway bent through some trees and Dave ran off it trying for a shortcut through them.
The snow was in deep drifts here. Waist high. Chest high. He stumbled through it, best as he could. He was so cold. The joints in his toes ached. The injured muscles ached.
Dave looked around to try and assess where Carter was.
*****
John cursed under his breath when Dave ran off the driveway. Well, sooner or later Dave would end up at the gate. It was the only way off the estate. The walls around the property were topped with barbed wire and glass was embedded in top of them. Dave could never get over that. At least John hoped that Dave wouldn't try to climb over that. John still had scars on his arms -- faint scars, but scars nonetheless -- from trying to climb over them when he was a kid. Chase had dared him to do it and John had to prove he could. He almost made it, too, and was nearly over the side when his grandfather plucked him off the wall. That's when he got most of his cuts -- from trying to hold on.
John pulled to a stop in front of the gate, and opened the door of the Jeep. He hadn't even put on shoes, so he couldn't wait on the driveway for Dave, but he could at least look as if he was receptive to anything Dave had to say. With a sigh, John settled back to wait.
*****
Chest high snow was just stupid. Dave's toes were going numb - had gone numb strictly speaking. He might be cold but he wasn't stupid - or not very stupid anyway. Dave had no intention of dying of hypothermia - it would be a waste of a perfectly good life.
Dave began to back-track to the driveway. One good thing about the ice was it had frozen his aches - he couldn't feel anymore where Carter had bitten him, or the multitude of other injuries. The back tracking seemed to take longer than the ploughing through the drifts had to begin with, and he fell a couple of times - couldn't feel his feet.
Maybe it was best not to feel anything.
He got back to the driveway eventually, then set on following it through the woods. At least the surface here was smooth, and he could see it. He'd have to get a cab fast - soon as he got outside. It was cold.
Carter would be long gone. Maybe he'd left the gate open for him - that would be nice. Or there might be a pedestrian gate, or he could climb the wall.
He wondered where Carter had gone - back to the druggie? He rubbed his arms and made his teeth chatter as he walked, he was so cold. Anything to warm up. All his body hair was standing upright - doing its best to conserve what little heat there was.
Dave turned a corner and saw the gateway, and the Jeep. It was sitting there, bang in front of the gateway. A closed gateway, and a Jeep with an open door. He could set off along the wall, find another gate. Or climb the wall, but his fingers were cold and responded only slowly to his commands.
There was only one even vaguely sane thing to do. He approached the Jeep. There was heat pouring out of the open doorway - like there was some worm-hole connecting it directly with Hawaii. So warm. He walked closer than he'd intended to before he spoke. "Are you going to let me out, or d'ya want to throw something else at me first?"
John had been watching the woods for a sign of Dave and was taken by surprise when he heard Dave's voice from just behind the Jeep. Looking carefully at Dave, John could see that the man was nearly blue from the cold. He needed to get Dave warmed up -- and fast. And then Dave's words hit John -- what did he mean by throwing something at him? He had not done that. He had thrown the pan, but not at Dave. But, before he could question Dave about that, the first order of business was getting him warm. "You're not going anywhere half dressed and blue. Get in and we'll go back to the house."
Going anywhere warm sounded pretty good to Dave. Even outside the open door, he could feel the warmth coming from the Jeep's heater - it was good. But he stood by his principle - doing his best to speak the words clearly. "Gonna throw anything at me?"
John shook his head. "No. I'm not going to throw anything at you." Maybe the cold was affecting Dave's mind, John wondered. "Please get in the Jeep. If you still want to leave once you're warm, then I'll call a cab for you, okay?"
Dave nodded and walked to the other side of the Jeep, half-tripping. He fumbled at the door handle. But he couldn't get his fingers to work right. They kept on slipping off the metal grip.
"I'll get it." John hopped out of the vehicle, the cold of the asphalt feeling like pinpricks on the soles of his bare feet. But his discomfort was nothing to what Dave had to be feeling. John opened the door and stood by to help Dave get into the Jeep if it was necessary.
Dave clambered upwards. He'd jumped into this easily yesterday, but now it was tricky. His feet slipped from the running board once, but he got in and huddled over the hot air vent.
The drive back to the house was a quiet one, with John mainly watching Dave as the other man huddled near the heater, which was on full blast. When he parked, John made sure he was as close to the kitchen door as he could get, so that Dave wouldn't have to walk far. "We should go on up to the bedroom. The fastest way to get you warm is for us to get under the covers together. With no clothes in the way."
Dave didn't want to move from the heater. He knew that the great, warm house was only a few yards away, but the heater was here and now. He sighed when the heater was turned off. It seemed so unnecessary. But Carter did things like that. Turn off. Walk away.
John didn't wait for any comments from Dave. He just got out of the Jeep and went to open the kitchen door. He hoped that by now Dave would be able to handle the grip on the door.
Dave sat dully in the seat until he saw Carter had the door to the house open. The heater just wasn't going to go on again. He knew he had to move, get warm. And the heater here was off. He stretched his fingers moving them, and by dint of concentrating hard got the door open.
The cold outdoors hit Dave square in the face. It blasted him through the wet clothes that had just been beginning to warm up. He struggled toward the door. The house was warm - he knew that. Carter couldn't have turned all the heating in there off already.
John watched Dave struggle to just walk and decided to throw caution to the wind. If Dave got angry with him again, upset even, then so be it. But John couldn't just watch Dave struggle. He walked over to Dave and put his arm around him, holding Dave close and supporting him. "We need to get you out of the wind. Come on." As John helped Dave into the house, he quickly assessed Dave's physical condition. Dave was definitely suffering from hypothermia but John just wasn't sure how serious Dave's condition was at the moment.
Dave felt the warmth from Carter's body encircle him, cut through him. He was hot. Where Carter touched there was no cold air. He followed Carter to the house.
Once inside, John used his foot to shut the door, not caring if it was locked or not. He helped Dave up the stairs and into his room, sitting him down on the bed. John knelt to remove Dave's shoes. "You'll be warmed up soon, Dave." John said, not liking the fact that much of Dave's skin still had a bluish tint to it. Please don't let him have frostbite or severe hypothermia, John prayed.
Dave noticed dully that he was leaving a wet spot on the comforter. It was spreading slowly out from his jeans, darkening the fabric. He looked at the toes of his right foot and told them to wiggle - after a moment they responded to the request. They seemed to be part of another body - one very, very far away. It was easier to just sit there and do nothing except let the heat in the house assault him, than actually think. He wiggled his toes again, and watched them move.
John saw Dave's toes move -- that was a good sign. "We need to get these pants off you." John undid the buttons of the fly, expecting Dave to either stand or lie down -- anything to help out with this. But Dave didn't move. "Dave? I've got to get these pants off of you. They're wet and leaching body heat away from you. Lie down, okay?"
Dave felt a hand pushing him backwards - and lay down obedient to it. His eyes fixed on one of the posts at the side of the bed. He rolled over to look at it. The wood was dark and ornately carved. It went in and out all the way up to the top. In and out.
John had difficulty getting the pants over Dave's hips. The jeans had been tight enough when they were dry, but wet they were impossible to move. John kept an extra pair of surgical scissors in his nightstand drawer, and he got them out. "Sorry about this," he said as he started at the waist and began to cut the jeans off of Dave's body. After freeing one leg, John managed to get Dave to turn over so he could free the other leg. He was then able to pull the material out from under Dave.
John didn't see any signs of serious frostbite, which was good -- he had not been looking forward to having to ignore one ailment while tending to another, and the hypothermia would have taken priority.
John rolled Dave over until he was on the fitted sheet before he covered him up with the dry top sheet. The comforter was damp, so John pulled it off the bed and went to the guestroom and grabbed one off that bed. He draped it over Dave, then headed down to the kitchen to make tea. Warm, not hot, with plenty of sugar in it. While the water was boiling, John gathered up high carbohydrate foods for Dave: cupcakes, chocolate candy, cheese and bread. John grabbed a tray and placed all the food and a mug on it, then threw a tea bag into the boiling water. He knew it wasn't the proper way to brew tea, but it was the quickest. The tea went into the largest teapot John could find, then was slightly diluted to bring the temperature of the water down to warm. Lots of sugar went into the pot and John stirred it thoroughly. When all was ready, he headed back upstairs.
Carter was gone again. He'd just walked out of the room and left. Again. This was just silly. Dave didn't know anther word for it. Just silly. If Carter was going to leave again, why'd he brought him back here? It didn't make any sense. Silly. Dave stared blindly ahead, wrapping the comforter, that did nothing to keep the cold out, around himself.
Putting the tray on the nightstand, John roused Dave. "You need to sit up for a bit, Dave. I've got something warm for you to drink." John poured the tea into the mug and took a sip. His face scrunched up over how sweet it was, but he knew it was just what Dave needed. And it wasn't too hot. John held the mug up to Dave's mouth, helping him to drink the liquid. "Here, eat some of this." John slipped a piece of a chocolate bar into Dave's mouth. He knew he should take Dave's temperature, but right now he was more concerned with getting the liquid into Dave's body. Besides, he knew Dave wouldn't be too thrilled with having his temperature taken rectally, and that was the best way to take it right now. Dave was groggy enough from the hypothermia for John to be able to take it in a few minutes and probably not have Dave even what was happening.
Carter was back again, and making him sit up. Dave hit out - he didn't want to move. He didn't want the comforter taken from him. He didn't want to be forced out of the bed and hit with whichever kitchen implement Carter was now holding. A mug, teapot nearby. Stupid thing to be hit with. Silly.
John deftly moved out of the way of the blow so the mug wouldn't go flying. He knew that Dave was probably not thinking straight at the moment and he had to be aware of that as he dealt with Dave.
"More tea, Dave." John held the mug up again, helping Dave. "Good. Drink it all down. Can you feel it working?"
Dave felt himself warming up. His limbs stopped hunching together with the cold. Sometime - he couldn't tell when - he fell asleep.
After Dave was snuggled once more under the dry comforter, John made sure that even Dave's head was covered before he readied a rectal thermometer. He moved the comforter aside and a few minutes later he had a reading. And while he wasn't happy with it, he wasn't all that upset either. It could have been worse. At least with that temperature, John didn't have to get Dave to the hospital for advanced and concentrated help.
John roamed the house and gathered a few hot water bottles, filling them and then wrapping them in towels before placing them strategically along Dave's body. Then he stripped and crawled into bed beside Dave, molding his body to Dave's so the younger man could gain some of his body heat.
He had to get Dave warm. He had to find out why Dave left like that, with no warning. No goodbye. Hadn't Dave said he wanted to stay? Hadn't Dave said that he belonged to him? He pulled Dave even closer to his body, half afraid to find out the answers to his questions.
Dave lay. There was softness beneath him, and above him. And Carter's warmth beside him. He was still so cold though. He'd been warm this morning. Dave rolled onto his side, facing away from Carter - he'd intended to wiggle backwards, have it be like this morning, but even that rolling had required a titanic effort. He shut his eyes and lay there, wishing that Carter would snuggle up behind him.
When Dave rolled away, John at first thought that Dave was still trying to get away from him. Then he mentally kicked himself. Dave was probably not thinking right, or was just trying to get comfortable. At least that's what John hoped as he moved to keep his body behind Dave's. It was important to keep skin to skin contact. And not just because Dave needed the warmth. But because this way John could pretend that Dave had never left the house. Hell, he could pretend that they were not yet out of bed. That none of the arguing had ever happened and that he had not thrown a tantrum like a child, even if his counselors in Atlanta *had* recommended that John do that from time to time. Anything to keep from bottling his feelings inside.
John draped his leg over Dave's, covering the man even more than before. "Feeling warmer yet?" John asked.
Dave shivered into Carter's back. He must be getting warmer if he was shivering naturally rather than forcing himself to do it. It was good being warm again, he didn't want to have to think or talk. He gave a non-committal grunt, and lay looking into the dark redness of behind his eyelids.
John took the grunt to be a 'yes'. Dave's body was shivering now, a sign that he was beginning to warm up. Earlier he hadn't been shivering at all. Nestling his face in Dave's hair, John lay there behind the other man, regretting most of what had happened that morning.
John's back, which had already been acting up earlier due to the extra physical exertions of sex with Dave, was now screaming at him, partially due to the fact that he had been up and down the stairs constantly, getting more tea and chocolate for Dave. John had also been in and out of the bathroom, making sure that only warm to hot water stayed in the water bottles. He wanted nothing more than to lie on his back and give it a rest, but Dave still needed him. Dave was already feeling warmer, but he was not yet back to having a normal body temperature. It wouldn't be much longer though, John thought. His eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
