TITLE: Volatile Opinions

AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh

RATING: PG-13

KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; angst; sexual innuendo; at least one very small joke

LAST EPISODE SEEN: "The Greatest of Gifts"

TIMELINE: Just after "Viable Options"

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.

SYNOPSIS: Lawn chairs under a practically moonless sky, tax returns, a misplaced kidney, and "Hamlet" with an all-vegetable cast feature in this installment.

SPOILERS: For "Viable Options"... sort of. Also vaguely hinting at stuff from season 7. Again, sort of.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Miesque, for letting me bounce some of these ideas off her.

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Relative Safety; Off to a Rocky Start; Troubled Water; Comin' Home; Something in the Way; Heart of the Family; The Croatian Patient; It's No Picnic, I Tell Ya; Out of Control; Fool for Your Love

PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER: Luka had an enlightening chat with his psychiatrist; Romano was waiting for the chance to "nail" Kerry after being the victim of her April Fool's prank; Luka aggravated an old injury while saving Carter from a suicide attempt.

"Hey, Luka." He turned away from the sign-out sheet and smiled weakly at Carol, who'd just punched out a few minutes ago. "Do you have plans for this evening?" He sighed wearily.

"I'm going-- oh..." he yawned, "I'm going to go home, eat dinner and then collapse." Preferably on top of a certain redhead, he thought, holding back a little grin.

"Oh. Well, I was going to fire up the barbecue grill tonight. I thought maybe you'd like to come over, we could barbecue a couple of steaks. It'll be fun, you can crash on the couch afterwards, like at Christmas."

"Oh, no, thanks. I have dinner going in a... a Crockpot? It's been cooking all day, and it'll be waiting for me." He didn't notice that Carol was trying to shift gears and think of a way to invite herself over - she'd been curious about where he was living, ever since he'd told her at Christmas that he'd sold his boat - and gave a last indistinct wave as he left.

* * *

The foyer lights were on when he got home, which he'd expected, but he hadn't expected the other lights to be on... and the stereo going. He would have thought that a burglar had broken in, except that he seriously doubted that any sane burglar would be likely to play Grace Jones quite *that* loudly. Sure enough, Kerry was in the kitchen, helping herself to some stew as she bounced slightly in time to the music. "Hi. You're home early, draga." He checked his watch - yep, *several* hours early - and wrapped his arms around her, tilting his head a little to rub his cheek against her hair as she leaned into him. *Mmm*.

He hadn't noticed her name on the sign-out sheet when he left... but then, he hadn't been looking for it. He'd just been intent on getting the hell out of there before some huge trauma made it necessary for him to stay "just a little while" longer. And, he knew well enough, "just a little while" had a tendency to turn into "rest of the night". Bad enough that the schedule - he'd been told - had been juggled at the last minute, and he was going to be needed again in the morning.

"Let's talk about that later, okay?" She handed him her dish, over her shoulder, and fetched a second bowl for herself. He hooked one finger of his free hand through the loop of his tie to loosen it, and slipped it over his head and off (her "reminders" were fun, but they were gonna be the death of him one of these days), then poured himself a glass of wine - he didn't drink very much, or very often, but he did like a little wine with dinner occasionally. Kerry shook her head, though, when he offered her some, and he put the bottle back in the liquor cabinet in the kitchen.

By the time he'd finished with these other little things, and made his way to the table, she was already seated, and giving him one of those enigmatic green gazes that, he'd learned, when he was the target, frequently meant that she wanted to rip his clothes off and have her way with him. In principle, he was pretty much okay with that idea, but not just *yet*.

He touched her face, and kissed her lightly just before he sat down... well, she had let him sit down without sweeping the food out of the way and then shoving him down onto the table... ripping his shirt off... licking him all over... suddenly he was very glad that he was sitting down, otherwise he might have felt a little embarrassed by his body's reaction. Of course, it was silly for him to be embarrassed - it was exactly the same physical response that usually led him to make advances on her in the morning (advances that she usually received very enthusiastically... if a little sleepily).

She dug into her stew, meanwhile, and made "yummy" noises at him. "You know, if you hadn't become a doctor, you could have been a great chef." He smiled, and took a sip of his wine.

"Nah. If I hadn't become a doctor, I would probably have become a sailor. Or maybe an actor." He speared a chunk of carrot and studied it thoughtfully. "'Alas, poor carrot. I knew it, Kerry; a vegetable of infinite flavor, of most excellent taste.'" He saluted her with it, and popped the carrot in his mouth. She giggled, despite herself, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"You're a strange man, sometimes."

"This, from a woman who dresses up to go scream and throw food at a movie?" They'd been back to see Rocky Horror again, the other night, and this time she'd actually managed to drag Luka up to the front with her for the "Timewarp". He still considered it a miracle that she'd managed to do so *without* him getting thoroughly drunk first - he'd felt stupid doing it, but maybe not so stupid compared to the other weird-looking people around him - but she'd assured him later that he'd done perfectly well... of course, at the time they'd been making out in his car after the show, and he'd had his hand well up her skirt.

"Now watch it, or I'll take you to see Caligula."

"Oh, now *that* one I've seen." He hesitated. "It's bad, isn't it? What you don't want to tell me, I mean." She stared at her dish, and listlessly pushed a piece of carrot around the bottom of the dish.

"I've been suspended," she admitted quietly. "Romano suspended me. 'Indefinitely'. The little prick."

"That would probably explain why I was put on for an extra shift, first thing tomorrow morning, at the last minute." Then he laughed, a surprised little sound. "You finally told him what you really think of him, huh?" She made a face at him.

"I said I was *suspended*, not fired. Mark and Harris *are* going to be taking their share of extra shifts, aren't they?" Luka sighed, and rubbed at his forehead.

"I don't know. I assume they are, but--"

"Well, they *should*," she grumbled, and Luka shrugged.

"Let's not worry about any of that just yet, okay? I *am* the newest attending, and the extra money can't hurt."

"As I recall, that's not what you said when you were filling out your tax return the other day. Wasn't it something a little more... unprintable?" He rolled his eyes.

"That's what I get for teaching you a little 'practical' Croatian," he groused good-naturedly.

"How else am I going to understand you, when you start talking dirty in bed?" He promptly blushed, to her delight - in some ways, he was one of the most uninhibited people she'd ever known... and in other ways, he was an incredible prude - the contrast never ceased to fascinate her: most of the people she'd known who would enjoy making love in the outdoors, for instance, probably wouldn't be bothered too much by the presence of livestock.

And the things he said to her, when they were making love... he didn't "talk dirty" in bed nearly as much as she'd teasingly implied. Sure, he sometimes breathlessly begged her to do that wonderful thing with her teeth and her fingernails, and told her all about what *he'd* like to do to her (she usually only understood a small fraction of *that*, but had quickly learned that it was not only safe for her to agree to anything he asked of her, but just as much fun for her), but usually he told her how beautiful she was... how dainty, how precious, how much he *loved* her and needed her. "Uh, what? I'm sorry, I was, uh, thinking about something." It was her turn to blush - he'd spoken while she was, uh, thinking. He grinned at her, and raised his eyebrows suggestively, as though he knew *exactly* where her mind had been, but didn't actually comment... instead, he gently repeated his question.

"I said, what happened today?" She appreciated that he'd phrased it that way, rather than "What did you do?"

"We had a patient with Sanfilippo's today, who had a mild infection that could *easily* be treated with antibiotics. Romano told me not to start a central line - there wasn't a vein anywhere else to start an IV - but I did one anyway." Luka hmmmed and tapped his fingers on the tabletop, until Kerry was nearly ready to leap across the table and grab his hands to keep them still.

"You *know* it kills me to agree with Romano," he finally said, "but... in this case, I do." She stared at him, bewildered by his comment.

"You'd want treatment withheld from you... or- or your family?" He rubbed wearily at his face - that usually indicated that he was especially stressed out - before he answered.

"If I or my family were in a condition from which we would never recover... *yes*. Especially in that sort of state - that girl won't ever get better, no matter how many lines are put in her body. I would hope that the doctor would make me as comfortable as possible. Maybe even *hasten* the process." The faraway look in his eyes scared Kerry for a moment.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, reaching across the table for his hand, which he let her take in hers.

"A period of time in restraints, when I'd hoped to die," he told her bluntly. "Don't... don't worry. I'm at no risk." Not *now*, anyway. "I would never do that to you." He shook off his mood determinedly, and finished off his wine; he nearly went for a second glass... but knew that a second glass would just make him sleepy now, and groggy tomorrow; for some reason, that was just how too much alcohol affected him, these days. Kerry watched him, aware that *something* was churning around in his mind but unsure exactly what he was thinking - she could only hope that he'd choose to tell her *everything*, one day.

* * *

Later, after they'd finished eating and doing the washing up (lately, they'd been doing the dishes together on occasions that they were both at home for the night - they finished faster that way, and once a playful water fight had escalated into wild lovemaking right there in the kitchen: it had ended with water all over the place, and her blender broken after it was knocked off the counter, but he had immediately gone out and replaced the blender... and then he'd sewn the buttons back onto her blouse) they went outside. Luka had brought home a couple of lawn chairs a few days ago and set them up in the back yard, and now they lay back and stared up at the night sky. It was a nearly-moonless night, with clouds quickly moving in to cover the few stars that were visible over the city lights.

She wasn't sure exactly where he'd found the chairs (it was still too early in the year for such things to be in any of the stores), but thought they might be the same ones that Carol and Susan had used to sun themselves on the roof, on occasions that the ER was quiet, before the latter woman had left Chicago. Kerry wondered what Susan would say if she could see how those chairs were being used now - would she scream in horror, at the chairs having "Kerry-cooties", or applaud that the uptight old bat was actually getting some these days?

After a while, she turned her head to look at Luka. "How was *your* day?" He sighed.

"I thought that helping Dr Corday with the transplant service today would be a little more, eh, productive. Instead, I wound up having to pass on several candidates, for various reasons, and some coke-nosed jackass got the kidney instead!"

"Well, you probably scared him into detox - you can be very intimidating, sometimes."

"I don't... intimidate *you*, do I?" He sounded concerned. "I *hope* I don't."

"I've never been *afraid* of you, no." She was still sometimes afraid of the way she felt about him, of that total loss of control, but she wasn't afraid of him *physically*. "But I do worry about *you*. How's your therapy going, by the way? Does Kim still make you nervous?"

"Well... no. We get along well enough."

"See? I knew the two of you could find *some* common point of reference." She saw him rub at his forehead, very briefly.

"Um... that's one way of putting it. *Please*, let's just drop this, okay?" He really didn't want to embarrass Kerry by telling her *exactly* what he and Kim had in common. And... maybe he was afraid that she *wouldn't* be embarrassed, that she might be a little... intrigued by the idea of being with another woman.

"Oh, come on, Luka."

"You really want to know? You're *sure*."

"Yes, I do. Yes. Just tell me." She wondered if Luka might be falling for Kim, just a little bit - it wasn't that uncommon, for a patient to bond with a doctor, when they had shared some common emotional event, and surely talking about his past to an objective stranger must be very cathartic, very good for him.

"She, uh, expressed, um, a- an interest in you."

"'Interest'? What do you-- oh. Oh, my god." She gasped, and clapped her hand over her mouth again, but she wasn't giggling this time. "Are you sure about that?" She was staring at him, with just barely enough light coming from the window that he could see that she looked thoroughly appalled. Well, *that* was good, he supposed.

"Kerry, she flat-out told me on Saturday that she was interested in you. She'd asked me, back in February, if you were seeing somebody, but told me at the time that she was asking for a 'friend'. She knows you're seeing somebody else, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I didn't tell her who - I figured if you wanted her to know about us, you would have told her yourself." He was very careful to keep his voice neutral, though, to avoid an accusing tone. There was a very long silence, then he decided to ask her... almost dreading her answer. "*Have* you... y- you know... ever... uh, thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

"Uh... sex with a woman." She thought for a moment, and then stretched, jolting back up when the chair started to tilt under her shifted weight.

"No. Why?" She glanced at him, a devilish gleam in her eyes. "Do *you* ever think about me with another woman? I hear it's supposed to be a turn-on for guys." He coughed nervously, and she just knew he was blushing like crazy right now - probably had been, for the last few minutes - even though his face was in shadows.

"I don't know about 'guys', but I know *I* would hate seeing you with another woman, just as much as I would hate seeing you with another man - either way, you'd still be cheating on me," he told her seriously.

"You're the only one I want," she assured him quietly. She sat up, swinging her legs around so that she was perched on the side of the chair, and facing him. "Luka." He sat up, too, and leaned forward to kiss her. The kiss was sweet, and hot, and lasted several minutes, and very nearly grew into the famed Something Bigger Than The Both Of Us, Baby, but they were both eventually distracted by something small, and gentle, and wet... quite a few somethings, in fact. He withdrew from her reluctantly, and looked up at the sky.

"Wow... is that snow?"

"And in *April*," she agreed. "Let's go inside, okay?"

"Yep. It's late, we should probably get to bed." He said it completely without irony, and she stared at him, a little puzzled. He returned the stare, then suddenly raised an eyebrow and gave her a crooked little half-smile. "I- I mean, let's go to bed, beba, huh?" She winked at him.

* * *

She was aggressive in bed again that night, and he was hard-pressed to keep up with her; he'd barely finished before his leg began to hurt again. He'd been having a little more trouble with it lately, the last couple of weeks, but continued to refuse to take anything for the pain. He was as evasive as always when she asked him why he wouldn't take anything.

"Is it that you have a drug problem? Is that why you'd rather go unmedicated for the pain?" He was lying in her arms, feeling a little relaxed with his head resting against her breasts and one arm casually draped across her belly... his hand idly caressing her.

"No, Kerry. Besides, would I drink - even as little as I do - if I were an addict?"

"Well, then, just tell me, instead of making me play Twenty Questions!" He pulled away from her abruptly.

"I'm not *making* you do anything, and that includes interrogating me about my damned leg!" He spoke more sharply than he'd intended, and immediately regretted what he'd said. "Kerry, I"m sorry. I just... I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Do you think I wanted to talk about my leg when you asked me?"

"Considering that when I'd asked you before, you first tried to sidetrack me, and then seduced me, I guess not."

"Right. And why did you ask me that time?" He thought he could see where she was going with this, but played along.

"Because I love you, and I want to know everything about you."

"So why can't you accept that I have the same reason for wanting to know about you?"

"Because it's a little less 'boring' than your story. My leg was broken, it healed a little badly, it sometimes gives me problems, okay?" His lips stretched in an attempt at a smile, but failed. "There's... there's no mystery to it."

"You were tortured?" He shook his head.

"Not quite *that* not-boring. I was, uh, shot. They thought for a while I might lose my leg."

"I'm glad you didn't. Lose your leg, I mean."

"You don't think I was lucky, then?" She frowned, and gave him a silent, questioning look. "Most people, when I say I nearly lost my leg, they tell me how lucky I am." She tried to choose her words carefully before she spoke - with everybody else, she tended to shoot off her mouth first, without trying to think of a more tactful way to say what she was thinking, but Luka was so... *different* from everybody else.

"But you haven't felt 'lucky' in a long time, have you?" He smiled at her, very gently.

"No. I haven't. At least, not until the last three months, with you in my life." He ruined the romantic effect, though, by yawning suddenly.

"Go to sleep, 'Lucky'," she teased him, and pretended to shriek in terror when he mock-growled and threw his arms around her, intent on nuzzling her into submission.

* * *

The alarm scared him awake - usually he woke up a few minutes before the alarm, but he'd been so *tired* last night. And then a dream - one of the intense ones that he could never remember - had plagued him through what little sleep he *did* get, so he was a little woozy. He turned to the offending alarm clock on the nightstand, and carefully shut it off (somehow resisting the temptation to drop kick it down the stairs). Kerry was still asleep, and he also resisted *that* temptation: it would be so easy to wake her with a few kisses, and then put her back to sleep the best way he knew how... *mm*! Later, Luka, he assured himself, there'll be time enough for *that*! Exactly *when* that "later" would be, though, he wasn't sure.

He showered quickly, and gave himself a blast of cold water at the end to shock himself awake (ooooh, *damn*!), then grabbed frantically for the towel to dry himself before he turned *completely* blue: even though blue was a very good color on him, he thought, he sure as hell did not want to *be* that color!

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and padded back into the bedroom to get some clothes. Ah, what should it be today... blue shirt, black slacks and striped tie, or blue shirt, black slacks and *navy* tie? He tsked at the limited variety of color in his wardrobe, and wondered if he could get away with wearing one of those gaudy, God-awful Hawaiian-print shirts at work. *Nahhhh....* But it sure would attract attention, wouldn't it?

* * *

"Morning, Harris," Luka mumbled as he came through the door, clutching his Thermos of coffee. He ordinarily didn't bother carrying it, but he had a feeling he was going to need the higher octane of his own coffee today... hopefully Kerry's suspension would only last a few days, and then Romano would move on to torture somebody else in the hospital.

Dr LaVelle looked up from the labs he'd called up on the computer, and raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Luka. You know, you got it all wrong - you're supposed to start looking like crap *after* you've been on twelve hours." Luka made a face at him, and went into the lounge to get ready for his shift. Well... this shift, the graveyard shift he'd been scheduled to work in the first place, and probably a whole lot of other shifts that Romano had in mind; he swapped his coat for his labcoat, and enjoyed a brief fantasy of painting a black-and-white pattern on the man's head, just like on a football, and then letting a bunch of European hooligans loose on the guy. With sharp, *sharp* cleats.