Title: The Best Laid Plans, Chapter 12
Author: Cathy Roberts
Pairing: JC/DM
Rating: NC-17
Date: March 22, 2005
Archive: Please ask first
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. Thanks to everyone at the Mature ER FanFiction Critique
Corner for their comments and suggestions.
Summary: Dave Malucci meets John Carter in college, and nothing will
ever be the same. Be warned that this story contains scenes of sexual
assault, kinky sex and bad language in places.
*******************************************************
The beat was relentless, driving into his brain and body with a force
that John simply couldn't fight. And his body responded to the tempo,
his heart beating in time with it, his blood spurting out with each
thump of sound.
It was too loud, John thought. He tried to call for help, but it was
too loud. And that damn beat everywhere around him, shaking his body -
no, his body was shaking from the shock and the pain. He needed to get
help, but his body wouldn't work, wouldn't do what he asked it to do.
The jarring sound of falling metal clashed against the beat as John fell
to the floor, the cold tiles burning against his palms.
And then he saw her, saw Lucy. Her eyes...wide and scared. John knew
then that he had to get help for her, if not for himself. But his
attempt to get up failed, and darkness took him. He fought back against
that darkness, against the total blackness that had enveloped him, and
as the thumping once more surrounded him, John tried once more to get to
his feet. He did succeed in moving a bit, to his side, but the beat
went on, drawing his life away...
*************************************************************
John awoke from the dream with a start, the room around him dark and
evil. It was quiet, though, and that bit of knowledge helped to slow
the rapid beating of John's heart. There was no music blaring, keeping
him from calling out for help. Not that he needed help, he reasoned.
He wasn't in curtain 3. He was home, and in his own bed.
His mouth and throat were parched, and John used that as his excuse to
get out of bed, not wanting to admit to himself that he really wanted to
confirm that he could get up, that he could move, that he wasn't being
pressed against the mattress by a wall of sound and a body that was
quickly failing him.
Flinging the covers back, John sat up, wincing slightly as the movement
pulled on his recovering abdominal muscles. After resting a moment,
John got to his feet and started for the bathroom. It wasn't until he
found himself falling to the floor that he remembered the walker and the
fact that he needed it. His hand flailed out for it, hoping to stop his
body from falling, but the walker, like the mayo stand in curtain 3,
betrayed him as it fell over, and John found himself and the walker
falling to the floor in a maelstrom of noise - metal and voice and a
thump. Not a thump, he thought as pain shot out from his back. Please
God, not a thump...
In the living room, Dave reclined on the couch, reading one of Carter's
medical journals. It was his fourth night on the couch, and even though
he would have preferred to be sleeping in Carter's bed, Dave couldn't
deny that for a couch, it was pretty damn comfy. The cushions were deep
and lush, and wide, so he had plenty of room to move around. Of course,
the size of the couch had given birth to many fantasies, all of which
involved Dave, Carter and the couch, and he grinned as yet another one
drifted into his mind. A person really shouldn't be having sexual
fantasies while reading about abscesses, Dave thought, but really, who
could blame him? When faced with a choice between imagining Carter
naked and hard and abscesses, what choice did Dave really have?
His grin disappeared when he heard the noises from the bedroom, and Dave
felt himself living the phrase "my heart was in my throat" as he left
the couch in one fluid motion and rushed to the door of Carter's
bedroom, fearing the worst. Dave flipped on the light switch, his eyes
quickly taking in the scene before him - Carter on the floor, obviously
in pain, the walker toppled over onto its side. This was the very
reason why Anspaugh hadn't wanted Carter home alone, and Dave had
obviously failed as a caregiver since his presence there hadn't kept it
from happening.
Dave went to Carter's side and knelt down by him. "Let's get you back
to bed, Hoss," he said, thinking he could assess Carter for any injuries
then. The smell of shit hit his nostrils even as his mind registered
the fact that Carter was trying to push him away.
"Get out of here, Dave. Go."
"No way, Hoss. You can't get up on your own. Let's get you up and into
the bathroom." Dave muscled his way past Carter's hands and managed to
get an arm around Carter's waist. "What happened?"
"I was a stupid idiot, that's what happened," Carter snapped as he
worked to get his feet under him. With Dave's help, Carter was on his
feet, but still a bit unsteady. "Get the walker up, okay? I can get
into the bathroom on my own."
Dave shook his head. "I'm not letting go of you. Besides, I think that
your colostomy bag must have come undone or something, and you're going
to need help."
"Fuck that," Carter angrily replied. "I can clean up my own mess, Dave.
Just get me the damn walker like I asked, okay?" Carter was so angry
that there were tears in his eyes, and Dave almost relented at seeing
that. But his common sense overcame his pity, and he shook his head.
"Sorry. I need to make sure that you didn't hurt yourself, and you're
going to need help getting into the shower. I'm your overnight nurse,
remember? You're kinda stuck with me." Dave started to walk toward the
bathroom, taking Carter with him, his mind already on what he'd need.
He knew that Carter kept the ostomy supplies in the bathroom, so those
would be there. And there were clean pajamas in Carter's chest of
drawers - Dave could get those while Carter was in the shower, although
Dave wasn't really sure that he wanted to leave Carter alone in there.
Yes, there was a seat in there for Carter to use, but until he knew for
certain that Carter was physically all right, Dave just didn't feel
comfortable leaving him alone in there. He could get the pajamas when
they came out of the bathroom and he put Carter back to bed.
Of course, all of that depended on Dave having Carter's full
cooperation, and right now, Carter was still trying to get away from him.
"I'm not a baby, Dave. I can wash myself. Thanks for helping me get
up, but if you'd just get me the walker..." The angry tone had been
replaced by a pleading one, and Dave found that this nearly undid him.
He didn't like seeing Carter unhappy, or hurting. But, Dave knew he had
to be firm in his resolve. He was there to be of help to Carter, and
not just to keep the guy's couch warm.
"I'll get it later," Dave interrupted. "We're here now." They were at
the door of the bathroom, and Dave walked on inside, pausing only to
flip on the light switch. He then went over to the commode, and lowered
the lid so that Carter could sit down to undress. "Have a seat."
"No," Carter said, and he tried to twist away from Dave's guiding arm,
which resulted in Carter sitting down hard on the toilet lid. He
glowered up at Dave. "Get out of here. I'm perfectly capable of doing
this myself."
"Hoss..." Dave knelt in front of Carter, ignoring the odor emanating
from Carter's body. "I know that you can do this by yourself. The
point is that you don't have to, okay? You asked me to stay here so I
could help you, and that's what I'm doing."
"I asked you here because it was the only way I could get home," Carter
snapped and he pushed at Dave's chest, nearly knocking Dave off balance.
"I know that, Hoss. But the truth is that you do need me here, and we
both know it." Dave got to his feet, thinking that he'd perhaps been
overzealous in his efforts to take care of Carter. "Why don't you get
your shirt off while I get you a washcloth?" He turned on the water in
the sink, to let it get hot and then went out to the hallway to get a
washcloth. He supposed that Carter wouldn't allow himself to be washed,
but Dave could at least make the task a bit easier.
When Dave returned to the bathroom, he saw that Carter was just as he'd
left him, with the shirt still on. "Carter...you've got to take the
shirt off," Dave said as he stepped forward.
"And I will. Once you're out of here," Carter replied, his hands going
down to the hem of the T-shirt he was wearing. His posture let Dave
know that the movement hadn't been done in preparation for removing the
shirt, but to keep Dave from removing it.
"Okay." Dave held out the washcloth. "I'll be right outside the door.
You call me once you're done, and I'll help you get in the shower.
You can just ball the clothes together, or something, and I'll take care
of getting them washed."
Carter nodded as he accepted the washcloth from Dave, but he didn't meet
his eyes. "Okay."
"Okay," Dave agreed, also nodding. "Good." He stepped out into the
hallway and pulled the bathroom door closed behind him. Now that his
initial fear that Carter had injured himself was past, Dave was
beginning to see that Carter was most likely humiliated by what had
happened. He didn't need to feel that way, Dave thought. But, he knew
that if their places were reversed, he'd be feeling pretty bad about
having shit all over himself, and equally aghast over the idea of having
someone else trying to clean it up.
The problem was how to apologize to Carter for pressuring him without
making Carter feel even worse about the accident. Dave leaned against
the wall, his mind racing to find an answer. He wanted to help Carter,
not make the guy feel worse, so making things right was of the utmost
importance.
*****************************************
After Dave left the bathroom, John sat still on the toilet lid, staring
at the door. He was half afraid that he'd be undressing and have Dave
come barging back into the room, eager to help. The tears of anger now
turned to tears of despair as John wet the washcloth and the simple act
of stretching over to reach the sink made him hurt. He was so damn
tired of being in pain, of aching. He was tired of the nightmares, and
even more tired of the scenes that would assail him during his waking
hours. Physical therapy was painful, but worth it as long as he was
making progress, John noted. The problem was that his progress wasn't
happening as quickly as he'd like. If his stupid leg was working
properly, then he wouldn't be sitting on the toilet, getting ready to
clean shit off of his body. John swiped the washcloth over his face,
washing away the tears, and then he began to remove the T-shirt that
he'd worn to bed that night. The Hell with cleaning it, he thought.
Dave could just toss it all in the trash.
John grabbed one of the plastic garbage bags and shoved the T-shirt
inside, then after pushing the waist of his sweatpants down, he removed
the belt and ostomy bag, tossing them both in the bag. John had another
belt, and right then, the idea of reusing the other one was repulsive to
him. As he began to cleanse his skin, John found his thoughts going
back to Dave. He'd figured that the guy would have run after the first
night there, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd been there each night,
helpful and considerate, even though he was getting anything, such as
sex, in return.
Why? Why would Dave stick around? John was nothing more than a
stumbling shell of a man, smelly no matter how hard he scrubbed his
skin. He knew that his nightmares woke Dave up during the nights. And
yet, Dave stayed. Even when John lost his temper and threw things
across the room, Dave stayed. He'd be quiet until John had calmed, and
then he'd go and get the broom and dustpan and clean up whatever it was
John had broken, and not say a word about John's childish behavior. It
was as if Dave simply accepted that this was beyond John's control, and
put up with it until John could control it.
John used the edge of the sink and pulled himself to his feet so he
could remove the sweatpants, pushing them down to his knees before
sitting once more to finish the cleaning. When he was done, the
washcloth and the pants went into the trash bag, which John then closed
with a twist tie. He wished there was another way to close it, to seal
it off and hide the fact that he wasn't even capable of shitting like a
normal person. Yeah, he knew he was lucky - his colostomy was temporary
and would be reversed soon, and others weren't so lucky. It still
sucked, he thought, and then he smirked as he wondered what his
co-workers and family would think if they heard him saying that. A
Carter didn't use common language, that was a lesson his grandmother had
taught them all at young ages. Of course, his family would have to
actually BE there for them to hear him using vulgar language. Not busy
in Tokyo, or other places around the globe, but right there in Chicago,
Illinois, in the good old U.S. of A.
But they weren't, and he was, and John realized that he owed Dave an
apology for snapping at him when he was just trying to help. It seemed
that John was having to apologize a lot to Dave for things. John looked
down at his belly and shuddered as he regarded the opening. He reached
for a towel and draped it over his waist, covering the offending sight -
sights, if you counted the surgical scars, and then called out that it
was okay for Dave to come back inside.
The door opened, and Dave walked in slowly, as if he weren't sure of
what kind of reception he'd receive. Not that John blamed him for his
caution. A person didn't walk into a lion's den without some
apprehension and protection, and Dave definitely had no protection.
"You ready for that shower?" Dave asked, his eyes everywhere but on John.
"Yeah. And, uh...I'm sorry, about earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at
you." John watched as Dave went over to the tub and started the water,
wishing that things were normal and that Dave would once more enjoy
looking at him. But things weren't normal, and John knew that Dave
would never again want him. And rightfully so, he supposed. After all,
who wanted damaged goods? John had been lucky enough that Dave had
still wanted him even after finding out that John had been turned on by
some of the things those other guys had done to him.
"No need to apologize, Hoss," Dave said as he turned around to help John
to his feet. "You were upset, and rightly so. I was being too pushy,
and I apologize for that." As he held John upright, Dave bent over and
turned on the shower. "Ready to get in?"
John nodded and leaned heavily against Dave as he made his way over the
edge of the tub. As soon as he was in front of his little bench seat,
John sat, glad to be under the hot water. He didn't realize that he was
still holding that towel against his body until Dave pointedly asked for
it.
"Let me have that wet towel and I'll throw it in the wash with this
other stuff." Dave held out his hand for the towel.
John shook his head as he handed the towel to Dave and then covered
himself with his arms. "Just throw it all way. I can buy more towels."
"You sure? It won't take long to run it all through."
John nodded. "I'm sure. I don't ever want to wear those things again.
Thank you." John hoped that Dave would go then, because he couldn't
very well enjoy the shower if he couldn't move his hands away.
"Okay. I'll be right back." Dave pulled the shower curtain closed and
John relaxed, titling his head up toward the shower spray for a few
moments. Then he reached for the body soap, grateful it was in liquid
form, and began to wash himself more thoroughly. Maybe he could find a
way to repay Dave for his kindness, John thought. He was sure that Dave
would refuse money, but maybe John could manage to do something without
Dave knowing about it, such as paying off some of his student loans.
All John needed was the loan numbers. All the banks cared about was
getting their money back; they didn't care who paid it. Or he could get
Dave a car or something, so he wouldn't have to ride his bike all of the
time. He was currently loaning the Jeep to Dave, and he was sure that
once Dave was back at his own place, he'd be missing the wheels. Or
maybe he could do both, John thought. One thing that Dave wouldn't know
about, and one thing he would know about. Of course, his preferred
thing would have been to make crazy and passionate love to Dave, but
Dave's inability to even look at John's body made that a stupid idea.
So, it would have to be something material, no matter how much John
longed for it to be something else.
**************************************************************
Dave left the bathroom and shut the door, then leaned against it, taking
deep breaths. He'd known that Carter would be naked, but he still had
been taken a bit by surprise when junior down there practically jumped
to attention over it. Being so close to Carter and not getting to touch
him was starting to take a toll on him - and on junior, Dave thought.
Jerking off every night on Carter's couch wasn't the way Dave had wanted
to spend his nights. Of course, if he hadn't have volunteered to stay
with Carter, then he'd still be jerking off, just at home. And Carter'd
be trapped in the hospital. All in all, this was the better solution.
Dave went on into the kitchen and put the trash bag into the kitchen
one, thinking that he'd take it all out to the dumpster later. He
didn't want to leave Carter alone for too long. The guy was too
stubborn for his own good, and Dave had no doubt at all that Carter
would try to get out of the tub alone once he was done with the shower.
Dave went back into the bathroom. The room was steamy from the hot
water, and it felt good against his skin. A shower really was a good
idea, he thought. Maybe he'd take one once he had Carter settled back
in bed? Junior jumped to life at that thought, and Dave mentally
reminded his cock that getting Carter settled in bed wasn't going to
include sex of any kind.
Dave's eyes drifted to the shower curtain. Would it hurt either one of
them if they showered together? While they wouldn't be able to do
anything, they'd at least be naked together, and able to touch one
another. Yeah, Dave thought, nodding. It couldn't hurt at all.
Grinning, he quickly stripped off the sweats he'd been wearing and then
he stepped into the shower behind Carter. Carter didn't seem to notice
his presence, which was okay by him. Dave didn't mind giving the guy a
pleasant surprise.
Dave reached out and began to knead the muscles of Carter's neck,
expecting a slight jump of surprise and then relaxation. The
half-scream that tore out of Carter's throat was definitely unnerving,
and Dave threw his arms around Carter's body to keep the guy from
lunging off of the bench.
"It's okay, Hoss. It's just me," Dave said. "I'm sorry. I should have
warned you that I was here."
"Get out!" Carter's voice trembled as he tried to twist out of Dave's
grip. Dave responded by tightening the hold he had on his lover.
"It's okay, John. It's just me." Dave hoped that if he kept repeating
that, then it would get through to Carter. He felt like kicking himself
for scaring the guy like that.
************************************************************
John felt a surge of panic as he realized that Dave was just as naked.
What was the guy doing? Tormenting him? "I know who it is. Now, get
out," John said. If Dave no longer wanted him, then why was he in the
shower?
John felt Dave pulling his body back a little, and he stiffened in more
than one place as he felt Dave's erection pressing into his back. Dave
DID want him. But, that made no sense. John was scarred and had that
damn colostomy to worry about. How could Dave possibly want him?
Those thoughts did nothing to abate John's own erection, and Dave's
didn't seem to be going anywhere, either. "Dave? What are you doing in
here?" John finally asked. If Dave really didn't want him, then it was
time for him to say something. And if he did want him, well, then John
had no clue as to what he'd do. He didn't want Dave seeing him naked,
not when the hot water was making the surgical scars look even worse
than they normally did. And he definitely didn't want Dave to see the
stoma. No how, no way.
Dave's hands began to massage John's neck, and he couldn't help but push
his body into them, craving the sensation of being touched. But
enjoyment of the touching didn't detract John from trying to find out
Dave's intentions, and he heard himself demanding over the roar of the
shower, "Dave? Answer me. Just what the Hell do you think you're doing?"
To be continued...
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