Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 17/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

*****************************************

There was no way in hell that Dave was going to mention anything of what
the Chief had said to him.  None of it.  He shrugged, and waited a moment
to respond.  Carter's *physical* comment couldn't mean the stuff they'd
done at the weekend, there was no way the guy would mention it at work, it
just couldn't be.  It had to mean something else.  He frantically parsed
the sentence, and then came up with a meaning he liked.  "'kay.  Get the
basketball.  Meet ya outside."

John's smile faltered when Dave mentioned the basketball.  He had been
hoping to get him alone in a supply room or a broom closet or someplace
like that.  Be at Dave's mercy or something.  But he had other things in
mind.  "Basketball.  Right."

John headed back to the lounge to get the basketball, then went outside
where Dave was ready and waiting for him.  It was a shame that naked
basketball wasn't an option, John thought as he took off his tie and put it
in the pocket of his lab coat with his stethoscope, then took off his lab
coat and draped it over a bench.  It was cold, but he had on an undershirt
beneath his silk shirt and he knew that once they started playing he'd warm
up quickly.

It was freezing cold outside -- but Dave instinctively knew that a bit of
running and jumping was just what he needed to get his mind off what the
Chief had said earlier.  He grabbed the ball while Carter was playing with
his stethoscope and began dribbling it toward the hoop, dodging around a
patch of snow that maintenance had neglected to clear, and set himself up
for the goal.  He grinned and jumped.  It went in first time. "Score."    He
yelled triumphantly -- this was more like it.

John grinned as he held out his hands for the ball.  He dribbled it a bit,
keeping it just out of Dave's reach, then stopped at the edge of the patch
of snow and sent the ball flying, shouting out "Yes!" as it whooshed
through the hoop.  Dave now had the ball again and John charged him,
pressing up close behind him, reaching around on both sides for the ball
and nearly getting it.

Dave dodged backwards and then sideways -- around Carter's body and set off
quickly for the other end of the ambulance bay.  Then he dodged around a
snowdrift and headed back toward the hoop.

John headed the other way around the snowdrift, meeting Dave at the hoop
and waiting for a chance to either grab the ball or knock it out of his
hands.

Dave kept half an eye on Carter, then leapt for the goal -- letting go of
the ball at the apex of his leap.   Up, and a bounce of the backboard, and
in.  He gave a shout of joy.

"Lucky shot, Malucci," John said as he grabbed the ball.  He dribbled back
a bit, then went to charge the goal, but his shoes weren't as steady on the
icy ground as Dave's were and his feet slipped a bit and the ball went out
of his control.  "Shit," he muttered, knowing that that one slip might have
cost him the game.

Dave grinned, and lunged for the freely bouncing ball.  He grabbed it, but
at the penalty of nearly falling over himself.  After he had frantically
regained his balance, and with Carter fast approaching, Dave turned around
and faced the goal -- shooting from where he stood.  The ball went up and
landed on the edge of the hoop rolling around it for nearly a full circle
until it suddenly stopped and flopped over giving Dave another goal.  He
whooped and jumped, then came down landing on the same patch of ice but
this time losing his balance for good, and landing firmly on his butt in
the ambulance bay.

John tried his hardest to keep a straight face as he walked over to Dave.
He extended his hand to help the other man get to his feet. "So, you want
me to kiss that boo-boo and make it all better?"

Dave pumped his arm, ignoring Carter's comment except for a quick glance to
see that no one was close enough to listen.  He grabbed Carter's arm and
used it to haul himself upright grinning.  "New York triumphs over the
puniness of the Mid-West once again."

John burst out laughing.  "Yeah, right.  Let's hear you make that same
claim when I'm not playing basketball in dress shoes."  He went and put on
his lab coat.  "I've got labs to check on.  *You* can bring the basketball
back in."

Dave grinned, and scrabbled to retrieve the ball which had rolled into a
corner.  He could remember other things that the Chief had said now, that
his evaluation wasn't at all bad -- and that she'd called him Dave rather
than just Malucci.  The world was a good place to live in.  He started
dribbling the ball toward the automatic doors to let him back into the
warmth of the ER.

Just inside the doors, John stopped and waited for Dave to catch up to
him.  "You know, Dave, the Super Bowl is coming up.  Your Giants against
the Baltimore Ravens.  And of course, the New York team is going down."

"Not a chance, my friend, not a chance."  Dave punctuated each word with a
bounce of the ball.  "The Giants are going all the way to the top, and no
damned black-bird is going to stop them."

"Only in your dreams, Dave.  Only in your dreams," John laughed as he
leaned on the counter of the admit desk.  "What do you think Frank?  Giants
or the Ravens?"

"Giants," the gruff desk clerk replied.

Dave grinned at the ex-cop.  "You've got it right my friend.  The Giants
are unstoppable.  In two week's time they'll be eating blackbird pie."  He
grinned at Carter.  "You still so sure, even Frank knows I'm right."

John nodded, his grin still in place. "I'm so sure that I'm willing to make
a bet that's definitely worth making."

"Dr. Carter, gambling is illegal you know," Frank said.

"Right.  Thanks for reminding me, Frank."  He looked at Dave.   "Find me
later and we'll talk about the Super Bowl."  Then he turned back to Frank.
"I'm expecting some labs and film results back on a Mrs. Blake. Have you
seen...thanks."  John said as Frank handed him two folders.  "I'll see you
guys later."  He said as he walked away to look at the results and to
finish up with Mrs. Blake.

Dave cast a wary eye at Frank, this was after all the guy who'd tried
running background checks on all their patients.  He was up for another bet
with Carter -- but not in front of someone who was quite so willing to
spout about stuff being illegal.  Dave riffled through the in-tray until he
found his own patient's x-rays.

After dealing with Mrs. Blake, John headed back to the lounge to tackle a
few more charts.  Five charts later he stretched and put his hand to the
back of his neck, kneading the muscle there.  He was getting hungry, too,
but a quick look at his watch told him that it was still far from dinner
time.  Maybe after a few more charts, he thought, I can go grab a bite to
eat.

Dave headed into the lounge to grab himself a cup of black black coffee.
Coffee so dark that it would absorb all energy from the room.  Lightbulbs
would flicker and go out in its presence.  And if the coffee machine
happened to be in the same room as his slave for the shift, so what?  He
could always check up on how he was doing.  He sauntered in and cursorily
upended his mug to allow any dregs to dribble out before refilling it.
"How ya going?"

"Aside from my neck killing me and my stomach telling me that I'm going to
perish from hunger any minute, I'm good."  John replied with a grin.  He
tapped the small pile of finished charts.  "These are done, Dr. Malucci,
and ready for your approval."

"Great."  There was an unfinished pile next to them too -- but some was
good.  Any being done were good.  "Ya repented of your ways yet -- or d'ya
want to be doing this in two weeks, too?"

John laughed.  "The Super Bowl.  Yes.  How about a 'winner take all' bet?
The loser has to do absolutely anything and everything that the winner
wishes for one full day.  One twenty-four hour period."

Dave grinned.  "Sure ya want ta clean my bathroom?"

John's eyes sparkled as he shook his head.  "I think that *you're* the one
who might end up cleaning things for me, Dave.  Or doing other, more
personal things.  Because when I say 'anything and everything', I mean
exactly that.  The question is, do you believe in the Giants so much that
you're willing to take that risk?"

Dave shook his head, not willing to let his mind go anywhere dangerous at
work. Who knew when there might not be an errant mind-reader about?  And in
any case, the Giants would kick ass.  "The Giants are gonna win, my friend,
and win good."

"No, Dave.  I'm the one who's going to win, and win *well*," John said.   He
stuck out his hand.  "Do we have a bet?"

"Let's make that 24 hours AND a hundred dollars.  The Giants are gonna win
GREAT."

John nodded. "You've got it."

Dave reached out and shook Carter's hand firmly.  "We have a bet."
Carter's hand was warm and solid in his, and Dave was loathe to let it go,
but he did, and then took a sip of his coffee.  "And, yeah, sometime today,
wash my coffee mug."


It was a little bit past 12:30 in the morning when John parked his Jeep on
the street outside of Dave's building.  As he locked the door and headed
into the building, he could still hear Dave's voice at work, just before he
left at the end of his shift, asking him if he'd like to come over for a
beer once his shift ended.  They had been alone in the lounge at the time,
with John still working on the charts and he had looked up in time to see a
smile on Dave's face.  John couldn't help but ask if Dave wanted him to
come by for just a beer or if he wanted him to come by for a beer and
something else?  Dave had never answered that question.  He had pulled on
his jacket and said that he'd be awake until around one if John should
decide he wanted to come by.  Then he had left.

So here it was, between midnight and one, and he was knocking on Dave's
door, hoping that he hadn't gone to bed early.

Dave jolted upright from his doze on the sofa.  There had been a bang on
the door -- not that it was certain that it was Carter -- it could be
anyone, lonely old Mrs Perry and her eternal borrowings of sugar and flour
until he was about ready to buy her drygoods whenever he shopped just to
get rid of her.  Dave jumped up, glancing at the clock -- 12:37 not likely
to be Mrs Perry.  He walked to the door, it had to be Carter.  It had to
be.  Just before he got there he remembered the beer.  He'd invited Carter
for beer.  Shit, he hoped he had some.  Dave yawned casually, and opened
the door.  "Yeah."

John smiled at Dave.  "I'm here to accept your invitation.  May I come in?"

"Um, sure."  Carter looked good -- slightly rumpled and tired, but good,
good, good.  "Go through to the living room, I'll just grab ya one."

John stepped into the apartment.  "I really don't want a beer, Dave."

Dave swallowed, and tried to keep it casual.  "What would ya like then.
Coffee?  Chocolate?"  He took a step back toward the kitchen.

"No coffee," John said as he headed for the couch.  "And hot chocolate
might make me sleepy, which wouldn't be good for trying to drive home.  Do
you have any juice?"  He sat down, sighing as he let his body relax into
the cushions.

"Sure juice."  Dave muttered.  He had to have some somewhere.   After a
troll through his cupboards he came up with a packet of powdered pink
grapefruit drink.  He couldn't remember buying it -- he couldn't even
imagine buying it -- but what the hell, it was juice.  Dave hastily tore
open the sachet and dumped it into a jug and added the requisite amount of
water.  Then Dave reached for his bottle of whiskey, to take a slug while
he was mixing -- Carter was here, it was better to have some alcohol in his
stomach -- who knew what might happen?  When the water was uniformly bright
pink Dave stopped stirring and grabbed a glass for Carter, and a beer that
was sitting in the back of the fridge for himself, then took them and the
jug through to the living room.

John could hear a lot of noise from the kitchen but he didn't quite have
the energy to get up to see what Dave was up to.  It felt too good to just
sit there.  Resting his head against the back of the couch, John closed his
eyes.  When he heard footsteps, he opened his eyes and looked up to see
Dave standing there with a glass, a bottle of beer and a jug of something
that looked pink.  Bright pink.  Like something a child would want to
drink.  "What kind of juice is that?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual
and not disbelieving that the loud looking concoction was, indeed, juice of
some kind.

"Pink grapefruit."  Dave paused then added.  "It said."   He put everything
he was holding on the side table at Carter's end of the sofa, then
retrieved his beer and also sat on the sofa.  He popped the tab, and took a
slurp.

"Oh."  John said as he sat up and looked more carefully at the jug.   The
polite thing would be to pour himself a glass and drink it, no matter how
it might taste.  So John found himself doing just that.  He looked over and
smiled at Dave, then took a sip and struggled to not make a face.  God, but
the stuff was tart!  Much more so than what he normally had when Corrine
bought grapefruit juice.  And pink grapefruit were supposed to be sweet, or
so he thought.  "Thanks," John finally said, wishing he had told Dave that
a beer would have been fine after all.

Dave let out a relieved grin.  "Not a problem, my friend."  He sat back on
the sofa.  "Good shift?"

John put the glass back on the table and leaned back once more.  "It was
Hell after you left.  MVA with six cars.  It'll probably be in the paper
tomorrow morning.  Two fatalities, four majors and about five minors."
John, unfortunately, had ended up with both fatalities and then had to deal
with some of the majors.  "I've had better nights."

"The guy with the scythe came knocking huh?"  Dave took a drink in sympathy
and started to relax.

"Yeah," John closed his eyes.  "A ten year old and a fifteen year old.   The
whole thing was caused by a drunk driver, and the ten year old was his own
kid.  Of course, the bastard ended up being one of the minor injuries."  He
didn't understand how a person could get into a car drunk and then drive,
but he most especially couldn't understand how a person would get into a
car with their own kid while in that state.  "According to the police, he
had made the kid stay in the car while he was in the bar getting drunk.
Some father, huh?"

Dave snorted.  "Yeah."  The beer and whiskey were warming the pit of Dave's
stomach nicely.  "Wonder if he'd bothered to buy food before he got
plastered."

"Doesn't matter now.  There's nobody at home to eat it.  He saw to that
when he killed his own kid, didn't he?"  John wearily replied.  He sat up.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come here and tell you stuff to bring you
down.  Maybe I should go?"  He didn't want to go, but he didn't want to
keep thinking about those dead kids, either.

Dave shrugged, and didn't bother to say that he thought it would have
mattered to the kid -- if he'd sat in that car and known that with every
extra minute his father stayed in the bar there there'd be less food to eat
that week.  Counting down: first maybe the vegetables go -- he wouldn't
mind those so much, and then no cookies, and then no meat and then no
beans, and finally not even bread or potatoes.  It would probably have
mattered to that kid a whole lot if the dad had bought any groceries first.

But Dave didn't want Carter to go.  He stood up.  "Could put some music
on."

John nodded.  "Music would be okay."  He leaned back against the cushions,
wishing that Dave had kissed away his sorrow, but he hadn't.  Obviously,
John had been wrong when he thought Dave had wanted more than to just share
a drink tonight.

Dave looked at his CDs indecisively for a moment then put on one with
saxophones that was slow and melodic.  Something good to be a little bit
asleep by if you were awake and with someone but had to get up in about
five hours.  Or that was a good enough reason to choose it anyway.

John closed his eyes and let the music sweep over him.  But he still
couldn't get the images of those kids out of his mind.  He made himself
open his eyes and saw that Dave was still standing there.  Impulsively, he
asked, "Dance with me?"

Dave shrugged, and smiled.  "Sure.  Stand up."  He hadn't had Carter's arms
around him since Sunday morning -- it suddenly seemed a very, very long
time.

John got to his feet and stepped over to Dave, not sure if he should put
his arms around his waist or neck?  Was he going to lead or did he want
Dave to do the leading?  Maybe they could put their arms around each
other's waists, he thought.  He then just held his arms out to the side,
deciding to let Dave make the decision -- he would simply put his arms
wherever it was that Dave *didn't* put his.

Dave fitted his arms under Carter's.  It was just more comfortable that way
with someone taller than you, and it felt good.  He moved closer to him,
smelling the sweat of the day on his skin.

John molded his body against Dave's, resting his arms over his shoulders.
Dave's *strong* shoulders, and he lowered his head to rest it on one of
those shoulders, content to just sway to the music.  "This is good," he
said.

"Mmmm, 'tis."  Dave agreed.  He was warm and a little sleepy, and had
Carter in his arms -- it was damn close to perfect.  He softly kissed a bit
of exposed neck close to his lips.  "Good."

"You know, if we keep moving slowly like this, I'm going to fall asleep on
my feet.  But if you keep kissing me like that, then I might wake up a
bit," John said as he started to softly stroke the back of Dave's neck with
his thumb.  "So, which would you prefer?  Me asleep in your arms or me
active in your arms?"

Dave pushed his neck against the roving thumb letting it massage his neck.
"Mmmm."  He liked being here and now very much, but Carter usually had ways
of making him feel great.  "What dya think?"  He kissed the neck again.

John pressed his bulging groin against Dave's body.  "That's what I think.
But, to tell you the truth, Dave, right now I'd be just as likely to fall
asleep right where I am if given half the chance, so if you want me, then
you need to say so soon, before I do just that."

Dave let one of his hands fall to Carter's groin - the guy was hard.
"That's gotta hurt.  Havta do something 'bout that."

John pushed his hips toward Dave's hand, wanting firmer contact.  "Yes,
doctor, it does hurt.  What do you suggest?"

Dave smiled. "If it hurts maybe ya should lie down?"  He nuzzled his neck.
"How does that sound?"

John made a soft mewing sound, then managed to say "Do you really think
that just lying down will take care of that horrible swelling, Dr. Dave?
Maybe you should examine it more closely."

"Don't ya want to lie down then?  Okay?"  He wasn't too sure how to do this
standing up -- not without something to lean against, but he'd done it to
Carter on the dance floor before -- there had to be a way.  He lowered his
other hand, and began to fool around with Carter's pants -- wishing he'd
bothered to notice what the guy was wearing before they'd got this close.

"I thought you wanted me to lie down?" John whispered into Dave's ear even
as he felt Dave's hands at the waistband of his pants.  "Tell me what to do
and I'll do it, Dr. Dave.  I trust you."

Dave felt lost.  Hadn't Carter just nixed that?  He turned his head,
catching his eyes for a second.  "Sure ya can lie down."

"Tell me where you want me, then," John whispered again, then his tongue
snaked out to lightly follow the contours of Dave's ear.

Dave almost giggled at the feel of Carter's tongue in his ear.  It was
unexpected, but sexy and great.  Just great.  "Um, okay."  Dave orientated
himself for a second.  "Go through that door, then get ready to show me
the...swelling."  He was getting hard himself.  He knew he needed to get
oil from the kitchen or something like that -- he wasn't going to repeat
what had happened the other morning.  But neither did he want to let go of
Carter in the here and now.  A minute ahead in the bedroom was a long time
away.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," John said as he swept his tongue
around Dave's ear again, liking the way it made his body shudder.  "You
want me to go through *that* door and take off all of my clothes until I'm
completely naked.  Is that about right?"

"Um, urgh."  Dave clung tight to him.  "Sure."  He held onto Carter more
firmly, feeling the firm flesh under the clothes.  "Sound good.   Right?"

"Sounds great," John purred.  "But...as much as I hate to say this...you
*do* have to let me go so I can get through that door and do as
instructed."  He dipped his head and started to lick his way down the side
of Dave's neck.

The warmth and dampness and slight tickling did nothing to make Dave loosen
his grip on Carter.  Nothing.  "Oh God."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Dave?"  He lifted his head and looked at Dave,
then ran his hand down Dave's chest and to the bulge in his pants.  "It
looks as if you might have the same type of swelling.  Does it hurt as much
as mine does?"  He couldn't get his hand around Dave's cock, but he did
press on it a little, knowing that the pressure on the engorged organ would
feel good.

"Ahhhhhhhh."  Dave clung onto Carter, and looked at him hopelessly.   "D'ya
wanta go to the bedroom or not?"  He broke away suddenly.  "I'll get the
oil."

"On my way."  John hurried into the bedroom and began to strip, for once
finding his suspenders a hindrance to his plans.  Down they came.  Then the
shirt cuffs were unbuttoned, then the shirt itself, unbuttoning it as he
pulled it from the waistband of his slacks.  The shirt dropped to the floor
and was soon joined by his shoes and undershirt.  Then his slacks were
kicked over and John hopped from foot to foot as he removed his socks.  He
wasn't sure if Dave wanted him on the bed or not and couldn't remember if
he had said to get on it before.  So he did.  Then he got up.  Then he
stretched out once more, grinning as he waited for *Doctor Dave* to come
and start the examination.

Dave pulled open a couple of cupboards searching frantically before he
remembered he kept the oil right by the stove.  He grabbed it then hurried
to his bedroom, pausing at the doorway to appreciate the sight of Carter
lying naked on his bed -- the redwood standing out firm and proud.  He
climbed onto the bed next to Carter, and took a look at the entire length
of the man in front of him.  Carter quite simply looked and was
magnificent.

John grinned up at Dave.  "Well, Dr. Dave, what do you think?  Can you help
me just by looking or is this going to be a *hands on* exam?"  He was
secretly wishing for Dave to suck on him, but he was hesitant to push him
on that issue.  Still, it couldn't hurt to ask, let Dave know that he would
still be interested in case he ever decided to take him in his mouth
again.  John's smile broadened.  "Or maybe an oral exam?"

"Um, wha..." Dave suddenly realised what Carter meant and reflexively shook
his head.  He had no interest in sucking Carter's cock -- didn't even want
to think about it.  Dave could feel some of the fun leaving the playing,
and he wanted it back.  He reached down and ran a finger up the underside
of the redwood.  "I know somewhere better.'

"Oh?  And just what would this *somewhere better* entail?" John asked as
the warm finger lingered on his hot flesh.

"Um, ya know."  Dave found that the use of words was making him very
self-conscious.  He swallowed once, and then pulled his shirt over his
head.

"Ah, an in-depth exam."  John reached up and ran his hand over Dave's
chest, threading his fingers through the hair there, then gently tugging at
first one nipple and then the other until they were hard nubs, not that
they had needed much tugging to get into that condition, he noticed.

"Mmm."  Dave smiled, that was more like it.  Actions were better than words
any day.  He lay down beside Carter, then leaned over to kiss him on the
lips, catching a smile as he did so.

To be continued