When Cottle met Janet...
(unfinished fic, but it doesn't matter, because I'm utterly amused by this...--co-written with woodface)
As soon as they entered the infirmary, Janet pointed Sam towards one of the beds and got out the equipment she had taken with her on the raptor. She was about to examine Sam when Cottle stepped up to them, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
"You two've looked better," he remarked as he looked at Sam and Kara.
"What the hell are you doing, smoking in an infirmary?" Janet demanded as she moved towards Sam and began unzipping the flight suit.
"Smoking." Cottle replied.
"Well, you can put it out or I'll do it for you." She informed him.
"Listen, lady, this is my infirmary and no one is going to tell me what I can and can not do here." He took a step closer and pulled Sam's suit out of the way, grimacing as he examined the wound. "Nasty, you'll need some stitches but seems you're lucky as he didn't hit anything vital."
Kara, deciding this might take a while, kicked off her boots and crawled on the bed behind Sam.
"As a doctor, you should be ashamed," Janet snapped.
Sam decided silence was the best policy, and watched as Janet stalked over and grabbed the saline and a pad and returned to clean the wound.
"Smoking around patients," Janet muttered. "For cryin' out loud..."
"Aren't we a fiesty one." Cottle muttered and leant over Janet's shoulder to watch her work. "Who gave you permission to attend to my patients anyway?"
Kara tried to keep herself from laughing and instead worked her hand under Sam's shirt to gently rub her back.
"Your patient?" Janet scoffed, "This is my officer."
"Whom I've taken very good care of," Cottle replied.
"So good, you're still smoking around an open wound." Janet muttered.
"Lady--"
"Doctor. Or, if you're being truly formal, Major Doctor Frasier. Do you have any idea what your lungs look like right now?"
"Pretty good." Cottle took an exagerated drag on his cigarette. "She ain't dead after all."
As soon as they entered the infirmary, Janet pointed Sam towards one of the beds and got out the equipment she had taken with her on the raptor. She was about to examine Sam when Cottle stepped up to them, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
"You two've looked better," he remarked as he looked at Sam and Kara.
"What the hell are you doing, smoking in an infirmary?" Janet demanded as she moved towards Sam and began unzipping the flight suit.
"Smoking." Cottle replied.
"Well, you can put it out or I'll do it for you." She informed him.
"Listen, lady, this is my infirmary and no one is going to tell me what I can and can not do here." He took a step closer and pulled Sam's suit out of the way, grimacing as he examined the wound. "Nasty, you'll need some stitches but seems you're lucky as he didn't hit anything vital."
Kara, deciding this might take a while, kicked off her boots and crawled on the bed behind Sam.
"As a doctor, you should be ashamed," Janet snapped.
Sam decided silence was the best policy, and watched as Janet stalked over and grabbed the saline and a pad and returned to clean the wound.
"Smoking around patients," Janet muttered. "For cryin' out loud..."
"Aren't we a fiesty one." Cottle muttered and leant over Janet's shoulder to watch her work. "Who gave you permission to attend to my patients anyway?"
Kara tried to keep herself from laughing and instead worked her hand under Sam's shirt to gently rub her back.
"Your patient?" Janet scoffed, "This is my officer."
"Whom I've taken very good care of," Cottle replied.
"So good, you're still smoking around an open wound." Janet muttered.
"Lady--"
"Doctor. Or, if you're being truly formal, Major Doctor Frasier. Do you have any idea what your lungs look like right now?"
"Pretty good." Cottle took an exagerated drag on his cigarette. "She ain't dead after all."