RP LOG with geniuscowboy | Boys Night Out
[Simultaneous to THIS and THIS]
Chris couldn't believe how ravenous he was that lunch time. He had been on the go from the minute he arrived at 5.30 that morning, and his stomach was growling yet again. He had just been finishing off some progress notes of his current patient when his and Dave's paths crossed at the doctors' desk. They got chatting, and ended up deciding to share their lunch break together, but only after zeroing directly in on the coffee cart. Chris needed a caffeine fix, or there wouldn't be anything to soak up all the grease he was about to put into his body with the burger with the lot he was nursing in one hand that he just picked up from the cafeteria. He bounded down the stairs exiting MT1 and caught up to Dave, who was standing at the bottom already starting on what looked to be a salad sandwich. "Dude, what happened to living in the fast lane?" Chris sniggered and gave his mate a playful nudge as he passed. "Are those bean sprouts? I let you loose in LA and this is what happens? You turn into a health nut."
Dave swallowed his current mouthful and then smirked at Chris, holding his sandwich up. "Do I look like I care what the hell they put in it? I'm fucking starving. I couldn't care less if it was grass clippings. Not all of us had the time to actually order something at the cafeteria. I still say they give the good ol' medicinal rockstars superior treatment. Fucking typical of society," he scoffed jokingly and then fell into step beside Chris, taking another hungry bite of his lunch. The burger Chris was carrying smelt awesome in comparison to a boring ham salad sandwich, but after a day like he was having, he seriously couldn't complain what food was on offer, just so long as it got into his gut as fast as humanly possibly without causing indigestion. "What have I done to deserve the honour of your presence, Hendrix?"
They reached the coffee cart and Chris noticed the Dave had a piece of paper tucked between his fingers as he expertly multi-tasked holding the sandwhich as well. "Is it too much to hope this is midday porn?" he teased with a laugh, trying to make a grab for the document. He threw his coffee order for a large double-shot latte over his shoulder at the gay barista so the guy could at least get a start on it. Dave held the paper just out of Chris' reach though, so Chris snorted in amusement. "Don't think you can hide your dirty little secrets from me, Tyler. I know where you live. Actually, I don't, but I can be a fucking awesome stalker." The barista sniggered at Chris, glancing between the two doctors as he set about working on the order.
"It's a blank piece of paper. I just brought it along to see how long it would take you to start trying to wheedle your way into my business. I've missed it. I'm going through withdrawals," Dave joked in return and handed his coffee card over to the guy, placing an order for a large black coffee. Then he feigned a serious look. "Yes, it's porn. You got me. I've been downloading enlargements of Angelina Jolie's tits just to get my jollies off at lunch time. Wanna watch? Quick reflexes with the wrist and I'll still have time for dessert," he said with a crude hand gesture to portay his words.
Chris laughed loudly and finally filched the paper from Dave's hand to skim over it. "Blood results? Man, you're boring. What are you doing bringing a patient's labs to lunch?" he asked with a shake of his head and tucked the paper back under Dave's arm so he could pay for the coffee.
With a moment of hesitation, Dave smirked again, placing his sandwich down so he could fold the paper and stuff it into the pocket of his scrubs. "I'm trying for a bit of Proctor's eccentricity. Is it working?" he threw back to stir Chris up a little. He took his own wallet out, only to have Chris snatch it off him and stuff it back into his pocket. "Dude, just because you're Alpha, doesn't mean you get paid better than I do. I'm pretty sure I can just afford a black coffee without needing to take a mortgage out on my apartment."
Chris ignored the protest though, going on to pay for both coffees. He glanced around as he waited and spotted Serena sitting on the grass with her friend, Aimee, the one who was Sable's resident and apparently single. A devious smile appeared on the corners of his lips as he met Serena's gaze, but didn't let it linger. He really couldn't afford to make anything too obvious. "So, you've bought a place here?" he noted. "The love affair with Miami is getting serious. What about things on the lil hot lovin' front, huh? Dipped your toes into the Miami singles pool yet?"
"I haven't had time to scratch my balls, let alone find someone else to do it. Thank you," Dave added when he was handed his coffee. He plucked a stirrer and a pack of sugar from the cups beside the coffee machine. "And don't go getting any ideas, either. I'm not letting you set me up with anyone. I don't want any of your damn sloppy seconds. Been there, done that, got dumped repeatedly. I'm scarred for life over those college experiences, Fabio."
Chris was sniggering mischievously now. "No, no. I would never do such a thing. I'm pure and innocent. I just want what is best for you, dude. Which is why I'm not going to set you up, I'm going to take you out and get you pissed so you can find a little action on your own. What do you say? When's your next night off?" Before Dave got a chance to answer, though, when he heard a choking sound coming from Serena's direction and he turned back to see what was going on. He was tempted to go over to her and remind her of the logistics of suck and blow, but again, he had to restrain himself. Instead he just looked at her curiously, only realising Dave was now doing the same thing a moment later. But he was just watching curiously. His old college pal's blue eys had zeroed right in on Aimee all on their own without any need for cupid intervention. Bingo.
Dave blinked, and then blinked again as he noticed the petite brunette sitting beside Chris' team mate, Serena, on the grass. He had no idea who she was, and he certainly hadn't see her around the hospital. He knew if he had, he would've noticed her before now. She was gorgeous, and even from here he could see how blue her eyes were and the scrubs just set an interesting thrum under his skin. When she smiled in their direction, Dave just reflexively flashed her a smile back, but she broke the gaze and looked away, much to his disappointment. A moment later, Serena waved at them and Dave only looked away when Chris hooked his hand into his arm and nudged him in the direction of a nearby table. "Who's that?" he finally ask, trying to point over his shoulder with his ear now that his hands were full with his sandwich and coffee.
Chris sat down at the picnic table, now having te luxury to stop with his much anticipated burger and coffee. He was practically salivating in anticipation as he started to unwrap it and licked some sauce off his pinkie finger. "That's Serena's bud, Aimee. You know Sable? Proctor's new lay? The CV specialist?" He nodded. "Yeah, Aimee's her resident. She got the gig around the same time Serena started at MT1, give or take a month." He paused, letting the information sink in a little. "She's single," he added, picking up his burger with a smirk and taking a large bite of it.
Dave didn't want to seem like a creepy sleaze, so he made a concerted effort not to keep staring at this Aimee. The curiosity was burning through him, though, and he stole anoter quick glance before he went back to working on taking the lid off his coffee. He bloody hated drinking hot drinks through those little plastic holes, and avoided it at all costs if he could and wasn't risking spilling hot liquid down his front. "I can feel you passively aggressively setting me up," he warned and cleared his throat when he tucked his hand around the last half of his sandwich and scooped it closer to him. "How is someone like that single?"
"How is someone like you single? Or someone like Serena?" Chris added quickly as an afterthought. May as well try to firm those foundations whenever he saw an open window.
Dave glanced up at his friend, giving him a strange look. "Serena's not single. She told me she was seeing someone... she said you knew about him, too," he replied. "Not getting senile dementia in your old age, are you, Chrissy? She told me to defunct the bloody lesbian bullshit you fed me. You could've just said hands-off the team mates, you know. I'm not that desperate to have you breathing down my neck and wanting to know every twitch of my cock with a chick."
Shit. Chris took another big bite of his burger, affording himself some time to save face while he chewed. This ninja thing really wasn't easy sometimes. By the time he swallowed and took a moutful of coffee to wash it down, Dave seemed to have stopped expecting any real answers to his comments anyway. "You didn't answer my question about your next free night," he pointed out.
Dave fished a piece of stray lettuce out of the side of his sandwich and put it in is mouth, licking some mayonnaise off the corner of his lips. "Tonight, actually. Sorry to ruin your intensive yearning to relive our college bachelorhood, but after tonight, I'm on five nights. You're going to have to come up with another unique plan of action to get pussy in Calvins."
"Actually," Chris said with a devious smirk, holding up his finger for emphasis. "I have tonight off, too. How convenient," he offered. Actually, it was a bit of a stretch of the truth. It was his night off, but he had made plans to hang out with Serena. Hopefully she would understand that this was a good cause for him to take a raincheck. Pussy aside, it had been ages since he and Dave had a few drinks together. They needed to catch up, and then Chris could work on him more about Aimee. It wasn't like he was trying to tell his mate to propose to her. A date, or even just a lay. It wasn't too much to ask, and Aimee was single. No harm, no foul.
Dave paused and sighed heavily. He gace Chris a long-suffering look over the table and then rolled his eyes a little with a snort of amusement. "So, what you're saying is, that instead of just indulging in a night of rest and relaxation after a long and hard week at work, my first week in MT1, you want to take me out, get me blinded and saddle me with some faceless pair of tits in my bed so I can get my rocks off and appreciate how much more natural Miami is compared to LA? Because sex and a hangover is much more healing for the soul than a beer in front of the TV and an early night?"
Chris pulled his lips to the side in thought. "Actually, I really just want to just have a piss up with my mate in hopes he might loosen up to the prospect of casual sex in Miami. But what you said works too," he replied, sniggered. "You turn me down and I'm going to post on the staff noticeboard that you need to borrow a supply of adult diapers for your little incontinence problem, grandpa."
"One night," Dave said, hold up a single finger for emphasis. "The Mates Code of Ethics in full force, and you buy the first three rounds," he bargained and then held out his hand to seal the deal.
Chris took Dave's hand and gave it a firm shake, still smirk. "You've got yourself a date, Davey Boy."
* * * * *
The night had ended with Chris being so pissed off his face that he had tripped over in the gutter and banged the side of his head on a decorative plant. That was when Dave knew it was more than time to sign off on the boys' night out and get Chris back to the safety of his home. He was drunk himself, but not in the state Chris was, and managed to get the packed up into a cab, where Chris promptly passed out with his face squished against the cab window. It was probably a miracle he didn't drool on himself or spew all over the interior of the taxi. Dave was watching his mate like a hawk, though, which was the Mates Code of Ethics. If you were the least pissed, you had to make sure the others got home safely. Safely was always subjective to both the location, the type of piss they had been on, and how far away from home they were. At that point, all it mattered was that Dave was conscious enough to pay the driver. It had already been decided that Dave would crash at Chris' once they ended the night; it was closer to where they were heading out and just easier all-round.
It was now morning, or closer to lunch time, rather. Dave was fighting a hangover, but nothing along the lines that Chris was suffering through. Chris has been hitting the likes of double tequila shots, fruity vodkas, and even a couple of absinthe shots in the mix. It was never, ever going to make for an easy morning after, and all Dave could wonder was if Chris could remember any of their conversations, which involved confessions on both parts. Dave remembered, he wasn't sure Chris would, and that meant this morning could be a little awkward. He gingerly sat on Chris' sofa sipping a cup of strong, black coffee, the blinds all still drawn to keep out the strong Miami sunshine. He heard the toilet flush up the hall and a couple of moments later, Chris appeared in just his underwear looking nothing less than like he'd been hit by a bus. Half his blond hair was sticking up in all directions, and the other half - probably the side of his head he had spent most of the night - was flat against his head. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was the colour of a pair of latex gloves, and he just stood in the hall for a moment, looking like he was contemplating whether he was actually done barfing or not yet. He had been at it non-stop for the last twenty one and a half minutes according to the clock on the DVD player. He couldn't possibly have anything left but vital organs to purge from his system.
"Feel shit," Chris grunted as he just stood there, deciding that movement was bad. He squinted, the dark room still feeling too bright for his hungover eyes. His mouth also felt like he had been eating gophers butts, and his head was thumping, giving him a sensation that his brain was way too big for his skull. He felt his way clumsily over to the nearest chair and sunk stiffly down into it. He hugged his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, face scrunching up while he prayed to any higher being listening to make his head stop hurting and his stomach stop feeling like a washing machine on spin cycle. "Hn," was all he could manage as an afterthought.
Dave set his coffee down and stiffly pushed up off the sofa to shuffle over to where Chris was sitting to check the bump on his head. He could see the bruise on the side of his head from where he had been sitting, he needed to make sure there wasn't some subsequent brain damage or something. Chris had been too pissed the night before to really feel any pain. There was some dried blood, too, and it needed cleaning up. "Don't move," he told him hoarsely with a small smirk. Chris just weakly flipped him off, no danger of him moving much at all now he had a soft surface under his ass. Dave went into Chris' bathroom, which looked like a bomb had hit it and didn't smell much better. He found the medicine cupboard, dug out some antiseptic wipes and cream with a small dressing and some cotton balls. A doctor's medicine cupboard was always more efficient than a standard one. Chris even had three sorts of medication for upset stomachs and diarrhoea, as well as four packs of band-aids in different shapes and sizes. Never really could be over cautious.
Once he was back, Dave started to gently clean up the cut, which just looked worse than it really was because of the bruising around it. Just above Chris's temple, about in line with his eyebrow, but no one could really get that drunk and not have an injury or two to show for it. "You got about twelve text messages on your cell," he offered, keeping his voice low so it didn't drill on Chris' inevitably aching head. "It's probably Serena," he added calmly and dabbed at the dried blood to clean it up.
Chris had hissed softly when the antiseptic first touched the open cut and squeezed his eyes closed again. He really wasn't going to ask about it. He had no idea he had hurt his head, making sure to avoid looking in the mirror when he had been in the bathroom. He knew he had a fuck of a headache, but it made sense now why that side of his head hurt more. It took a few moments for Dave's words to filter into his brain, though, and when they did, he cracked his eyes open tentatively and glanced up at his friend. "Why her?" he asked hesitantly. It was weird for Dave to just jump to that conclusion. Why not Eva, or even Proctor? One of his other mates?
"Because she's your exclusive?" Dave offered smugly, smirking again now as he continued to calmly clean Chris' wound. "Absinthe isn't your friend, my man. Not only does it make you go ass over tit in the gutter of Miami's main drag, it also makes you spill your guts over the third shot. But don't worry. I won't tell anyone about Serena's yellow bra with red roses or the silk sheets."
Not a lot made Dr Chris Deleo speechless, but this was one of them. His mouth dropped open a little and for a few moments, he just gaped blankly, blinking slowly, even though his eyes were scratchy and stinging like sandpaper had been rubbed in them. Had he seriously fucked up so badly as to get pissed and reveal his and Serena's secret, that really, really needed to be a secret for a lot of different reasons? There was no way they had been obvious enough for Dave to guess, right? Absinthe? Who the fuck let him loose on Absinthe? "Oh... fuck..." he finally got out through a pained groan. "I was bullshitting?" he added, trying to save face. Now if only that came out sounding more like a confident statement than an uncertain question.
"Dude," Dave stated dryly with an amused snort, examining the bruising which Serena could well have something to say about as his exclusive. Exclusives did things like worry about drunken head injuries. "Give me some credit. Give yourself some credit. If you were bullshitting, there wouldn't have been a running commentary on her nipples. You would've gone the whole hog and told me about every inch of her. Look... man... I ain't gonna say anything, alright? I think it's great. Really makes sense of the lesbian bullshit, too. See? I do have a slight indication of when you are bullshitting me. At the end of the day, something like this, you gotta tell someone. I think you're playing with fire, but I also think it's about time you parked your cock in one garage for more than one night, and Serena's hot, smart, good sense of humour. She's right up your alley. Are you about to barf or do you just look like it?" he asked warily, catching the colour of Chris' face and taking a safe step out of the line of fire.
Chris had no certain answer to that question. He put his fist up to his mouth and pressed the backs of his fingers against his mouth. This wasn't the sort of revelation he needed to deal with through a rough hangover. He was even almost scared to check his cell in case the messages were from Serena. They could be. They texted each other a lot when they weren't together, but he also received texts off a lot of other people too. He wasn't ready to cross that bridge. How the hell was he going to tell her that he had spilled the beans when he was trashed? Dave knew, and while it could be a lot worse, he still was unsteady about the knowledge being beyond just him and Serena. He trusted Dave, but it was still making him feel sick. "I'm never, ever friggin drinking again," he finally mumbled.
Dave secured the small dressing over the cut so it wouldn't get infected and then squeezed Chris' shoulder softly. "I ain't gonna say anything, C. Come on. You know you can trust me. I'll help you guys, alright? I get why you're keeping it on the hush, but I also don't think you're going anything wrong. We were talking about a lot last night, did a lot of catching up... which I guess we can do again when you're sober. It wasn't like you just randomly threw it at me. We were talking about relationships, I asked you if you were seeing anyone. I think you must've just wanted to share it with me, dude. Here... look... you want coffee? Tea? Maybe you should just go back to bed?"
Chris wet his lips with a stifled sigh. "No, it's... I'm glad you know, man. Didn't really want secrets from you. It was probably gonna come to a point where I needed to say anyway. Especially considering..." he waved his hand a little, "you got the hots for Aimee. She's Serena's closest friend here. I was already seeing a whole lotta complicated, and you know me and complicated ain't buddies."
Dave huffed out a heavy breath and sat back down on the sofa, picking up his coffee again. He didn't really have the energy to keep standing anyway. At least in a few days, Chris' head would heal, he just had to learn that no drunken revelations could be taken back. "You make me sound like I have a fucking high school crush. I don't know her, I haven't even met her. I just think she's gorgeous and obviously friggin smart to have a residency with Dr Sable. That doesn't mean she's automatically going to want anything to do with me, let alone want to date me. Don't you think I should just be focusing on finding my feet in Miami before I even start thinking about shit like dating?"
"Nope. I think you need to stop making excuses and ask her out. You aren't going to know what she wants until you ask. Finding your feet in a place like Miami takes knowing people and not falling into the trap of just living to work. You gotta have a social life too. I can get her number off Serena. You don't even have that to hide be-" Chris held up his hand and scrambled out of the chair. "Hold that thought, gonna puke." He stumbled up the hall and into the bathroom again, making it just in time. Well, he made the bath tub anyway.
Dave scratched the back of his head, his own stomach clenching a little in sympathy. He heard Chris moan through his self-inflicted suffering and then started biting the corner of his thumb nail in thought. It sounded so easy, but he was just nervous. He hadn't really dated in awhile, and while Aimee was definitely his type, he wasn't sure his schedule would let him pull off a relationship, especially considering the chances it would clash with hers. "What made you bite the bullet and ask Serena out?" he called up the hall after his friend. The apartment was small enough to be able to carry a conversation out across a couple of rooms.
Chris grabbed a towel off the rack and pressed it against his mouth before wiping his lips with a strained groan. He rinsed the bath and then went back out into the main area of the apartment, taking the towel with him. "I didn't," he admitted, taking his seat again and curling up in a ball on it, putting his head down on the arm rest. "It just sort of happened. We were sleeping together, which just sort of happened too. I pulled a really long on-call shift, which turned out to be one she trumped the asshole Kay, an Ortho you'll probably cross at some point. I was overtired, having trouble falling asleep, and she showed up on my doorstep to share her victory with me. We were getting closer as mates, it just seemed like something she should do. She hadn't been on MT1 long, but you know how it rolls, it's good to debrief after a hard shift, chat it all out. We do that a lot on our team. She had tried to find me at work, but I knocked off a little earlier so I didn't keel over. She wanted to make sure I was okay, so she could kill two birds with one stone. She stole my address, which was cute. She came here, I was ready for bed... one thing led to another." He had to paused when his stomach threatened again and he sat forward, ready to bolt back to the bathroom, but he swallowed of the wave of nausea back so he could settle again. "Some shit happened after that. I got sick, she got caught up in some bad stuff at work and she needed some comfort. I know it sounds cliche, but it hasn't been. The exclusive... well, I kind of challenged her into it. Didn't think much about it, but it works. We have fun, we have a laugh. I dunno... I guess you could say I'm happy. Haven't done anything like this in a long time, I don't wanna overanalyse it. In saying that, you shouldn't overanalyse anything with Aimee, either. Just ask her out, see what happens. The worst she can do is say no. Live for the moment."
Those last words bit at something inside Dave and he nodded, though didn't say anything at first. His hands tucked tighter around the mug and he sipped his coffee to buy him time. Chris really didn't remember anything of their conversation the previous night, he had no recollection of anything Dave had told him. Dave just couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and he was too tired right now to revisit it. "Yeah... live for the moment..." he repeated quietly. "When you get to answering Serena's texts, maybe you could get Aimee's number for me? You're right. There are worse things in life to go through than a girl saying no..."
"Like a chick with fake tits?" Chris offered with a weak smirk. He kicked the recliner foot rest out and curled up in a ball on his side, grabbing a cushion and putting it over his head. "I'm going to die now. Get Serena's number off my phone, text her for Aimee's number. You'll make her week. Love you, dude," he mumbled and gave Dave a thumbs up in his general direction.
Word Count | 4,772
Chris couldn't believe how ravenous he was that lunch time. He had been on the go from the minute he arrived at 5.30 that morning, and his stomach was growling yet again. He had just been finishing off some progress notes of his current patient when his and Dave's paths crossed at the doctors' desk. They got chatting, and ended up deciding to share their lunch break together, but only after zeroing directly in on the coffee cart. Chris needed a caffeine fix, or there wouldn't be anything to soak up all the grease he was about to put into his body with the burger with the lot he was nursing in one hand that he just picked up from the cafeteria. He bounded down the stairs exiting MT1 and caught up to Dave, who was standing at the bottom already starting on what looked to be a salad sandwich. "Dude, what happened to living in the fast lane?" Chris sniggered and gave his mate a playful nudge as he passed. "Are those bean sprouts? I let you loose in LA and this is what happens? You turn into a health nut."
Dave swallowed his current mouthful and then smirked at Chris, holding his sandwich up. "Do I look like I care what the hell they put in it? I'm fucking starving. I couldn't care less if it was grass clippings. Not all of us had the time to actually order something at the cafeteria. I still say they give the good ol' medicinal rockstars superior treatment. Fucking typical of society," he scoffed jokingly and then fell into step beside Chris, taking another hungry bite of his lunch. The burger Chris was carrying smelt awesome in comparison to a boring ham salad sandwich, but after a day like he was having, he seriously couldn't complain what food was on offer, just so long as it got into his gut as fast as humanly possibly without causing indigestion. "What have I done to deserve the honour of your presence, Hendrix?"
They reached the coffee cart and Chris noticed the Dave had a piece of paper tucked between his fingers as he expertly multi-tasked holding the sandwhich as well. "Is it too much to hope this is midday porn?" he teased with a laugh, trying to make a grab for the document. He threw his coffee order for a large double-shot latte over his shoulder at the gay barista so the guy could at least get a start on it. Dave held the paper just out of Chris' reach though, so Chris snorted in amusement. "Don't think you can hide your dirty little secrets from me, Tyler. I know where you live. Actually, I don't, but I can be a fucking awesome stalker." The barista sniggered at Chris, glancing between the two doctors as he set about working on the order.
"It's a blank piece of paper. I just brought it along to see how long it would take you to start trying to wheedle your way into my business. I've missed it. I'm going through withdrawals," Dave joked in return and handed his coffee card over to the guy, placing an order for a large black coffee. Then he feigned a serious look. "Yes, it's porn. You got me. I've been downloading enlargements of Angelina Jolie's tits just to get my jollies off at lunch time. Wanna watch? Quick reflexes with the wrist and I'll still have time for dessert," he said with a crude hand gesture to portay his words.
Chris laughed loudly and finally filched the paper from Dave's hand to skim over it. "Blood results? Man, you're boring. What are you doing bringing a patient's labs to lunch?" he asked with a shake of his head and tucked the paper back under Dave's arm so he could pay for the coffee.
With a moment of hesitation, Dave smirked again, placing his sandwich down so he could fold the paper and stuff it into the pocket of his scrubs. "I'm trying for a bit of Proctor's eccentricity. Is it working?" he threw back to stir Chris up a little. He took his own wallet out, only to have Chris snatch it off him and stuff it back into his pocket. "Dude, just because you're Alpha, doesn't mean you get paid better than I do. I'm pretty sure I can just afford a black coffee without needing to take a mortgage out on my apartment."
Chris ignored the protest though, going on to pay for both coffees. He glanced around as he waited and spotted Serena sitting on the grass with her friend, Aimee, the one who was Sable's resident and apparently single. A devious smile appeared on the corners of his lips as he met Serena's gaze, but didn't let it linger. He really couldn't afford to make anything too obvious. "So, you've bought a place here?" he noted. "The love affair with Miami is getting serious. What about things on the lil hot lovin' front, huh? Dipped your toes into the Miami singles pool yet?"
"I haven't had time to scratch my balls, let alone find someone else to do it. Thank you," Dave added when he was handed his coffee. He plucked a stirrer and a pack of sugar from the cups beside the coffee machine. "And don't go getting any ideas, either. I'm not letting you set me up with anyone. I don't want any of your damn sloppy seconds. Been there, done that, got dumped repeatedly. I'm scarred for life over those college experiences, Fabio."
Chris was sniggering mischievously now. "No, no. I would never do such a thing. I'm pure and innocent. I just want what is best for you, dude. Which is why I'm not going to set you up, I'm going to take you out and get you pissed so you can find a little action on your own. What do you say? When's your next night off?" Before Dave got a chance to answer, though, when he heard a choking sound coming from Serena's direction and he turned back to see what was going on. He was tempted to go over to her and remind her of the logistics of suck and blow, but again, he had to restrain himself. Instead he just looked at her curiously, only realising Dave was now doing the same thing a moment later. But he was just watching curiously. His old college pal's blue eys had zeroed right in on Aimee all on their own without any need for cupid intervention. Bingo.
Dave blinked, and then blinked again as he noticed the petite brunette sitting beside Chris' team mate, Serena, on the grass. He had no idea who she was, and he certainly hadn't see her around the hospital. He knew if he had, he would've noticed her before now. She was gorgeous, and even from here he could see how blue her eyes were and the scrubs just set an interesting thrum under his skin. When she smiled in their direction, Dave just reflexively flashed her a smile back, but she broke the gaze and looked away, much to his disappointment. A moment later, Serena waved at them and Dave only looked away when Chris hooked his hand into his arm and nudged him in the direction of a nearby table. "Who's that?" he finally ask, trying to point over his shoulder with his ear now that his hands were full with his sandwich and coffee.
Chris sat down at the picnic table, now having te luxury to stop with his much anticipated burger and coffee. He was practically salivating in anticipation as he started to unwrap it and licked some sauce off his pinkie finger. "That's Serena's bud, Aimee. You know Sable? Proctor's new lay? The CV specialist?" He nodded. "Yeah, Aimee's her resident. She got the gig around the same time Serena started at MT1, give or take a month." He paused, letting the information sink in a little. "She's single," he added, picking up his burger with a smirk and taking a large bite of it.
Dave didn't want to seem like a creepy sleaze, so he made a concerted effort not to keep staring at this Aimee. The curiosity was burning through him, though, and he stole anoter quick glance before he went back to working on taking the lid off his coffee. He bloody hated drinking hot drinks through those little plastic holes, and avoided it at all costs if he could and wasn't risking spilling hot liquid down his front. "I can feel you passively aggressively setting me up," he warned and cleared his throat when he tucked his hand around the last half of his sandwich and scooped it closer to him. "How is someone like that single?"
"How is someone like you single? Or someone like Serena?" Chris added quickly as an afterthought. May as well try to firm those foundations whenever he saw an open window.
Dave glanced up at his friend, giving him a strange look. "Serena's not single. She told me she was seeing someone... she said you knew about him, too," he replied. "Not getting senile dementia in your old age, are you, Chrissy? She told me to defunct the bloody lesbian bullshit you fed me. You could've just said hands-off the team mates, you know. I'm not that desperate to have you breathing down my neck and wanting to know every twitch of my cock with a chick."
Shit. Chris took another big bite of his burger, affording himself some time to save face while he chewed. This ninja thing really wasn't easy sometimes. By the time he swallowed and took a moutful of coffee to wash it down, Dave seemed to have stopped expecting any real answers to his comments anyway. "You didn't answer my question about your next free night," he pointed out.
Dave fished a piece of stray lettuce out of the side of his sandwich and put it in is mouth, licking some mayonnaise off the corner of his lips. "Tonight, actually. Sorry to ruin your intensive yearning to relive our college bachelorhood, but after tonight, I'm on five nights. You're going to have to come up with another unique plan of action to get pussy in Calvins."
"Actually," Chris said with a devious smirk, holding up his finger for emphasis. "I have tonight off, too. How convenient," he offered. Actually, it was a bit of a stretch of the truth. It was his night off, but he had made plans to hang out with Serena. Hopefully she would understand that this was a good cause for him to take a raincheck. Pussy aside, it had been ages since he and Dave had a few drinks together. They needed to catch up, and then Chris could work on him more about Aimee. It wasn't like he was trying to tell his mate to propose to her. A date, or even just a lay. It wasn't too much to ask, and Aimee was single. No harm, no foul.
Dave paused and sighed heavily. He gace Chris a long-suffering look over the table and then rolled his eyes a little with a snort of amusement. "So, what you're saying is, that instead of just indulging in a night of rest and relaxation after a long and hard week at work, my first week in MT1, you want to take me out, get me blinded and saddle me with some faceless pair of tits in my bed so I can get my rocks off and appreciate how much more natural Miami is compared to LA? Because sex and a hangover is much more healing for the soul than a beer in front of the TV and an early night?"
Chris pulled his lips to the side in thought. "Actually, I really just want to just have a piss up with my mate in hopes he might loosen up to the prospect of casual sex in Miami. But what you said works too," he replied, sniggered. "You turn me down and I'm going to post on the staff noticeboard that you need to borrow a supply of adult diapers for your little incontinence problem, grandpa."
"One night," Dave said, hold up a single finger for emphasis. "The Mates Code of Ethics in full force, and you buy the first three rounds," he bargained and then held out his hand to seal the deal.
Chris took Dave's hand and gave it a firm shake, still smirk. "You've got yourself a date, Davey Boy."
* * * * *
The night had ended with Chris being so pissed off his face that he had tripped over in the gutter and banged the side of his head on a decorative plant. That was when Dave knew it was more than time to sign off on the boys' night out and get Chris back to the safety of his home. He was drunk himself, but not in the state Chris was, and managed to get the packed up into a cab, where Chris promptly passed out with his face squished against the cab window. It was probably a miracle he didn't drool on himself or spew all over the interior of the taxi. Dave was watching his mate like a hawk, though, which was the Mates Code of Ethics. If you were the least pissed, you had to make sure the others got home safely. Safely was always subjective to both the location, the type of piss they had been on, and how far away from home they were. At that point, all it mattered was that Dave was conscious enough to pay the driver. It had already been decided that Dave would crash at Chris' once they ended the night; it was closer to where they were heading out and just easier all-round.
It was now morning, or closer to lunch time, rather. Dave was fighting a hangover, but nothing along the lines that Chris was suffering through. Chris has been hitting the likes of double tequila shots, fruity vodkas, and even a couple of absinthe shots in the mix. It was never, ever going to make for an easy morning after, and all Dave could wonder was if Chris could remember any of their conversations, which involved confessions on both parts. Dave remembered, he wasn't sure Chris would, and that meant this morning could be a little awkward. He gingerly sat on Chris' sofa sipping a cup of strong, black coffee, the blinds all still drawn to keep out the strong Miami sunshine. He heard the toilet flush up the hall and a couple of moments later, Chris appeared in just his underwear looking nothing less than like he'd been hit by a bus. Half his blond hair was sticking up in all directions, and the other half - probably the side of his head he had spent most of the night - was flat against his head. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was the colour of a pair of latex gloves, and he just stood in the hall for a moment, looking like he was contemplating whether he was actually done barfing or not yet. He had been at it non-stop for the last twenty one and a half minutes according to the clock on the DVD player. He couldn't possibly have anything left but vital organs to purge from his system.
"Feel shit," Chris grunted as he just stood there, deciding that movement was bad. He squinted, the dark room still feeling too bright for his hungover eyes. His mouth also felt like he had been eating gophers butts, and his head was thumping, giving him a sensation that his brain was way too big for his skull. He felt his way clumsily over to the nearest chair and sunk stiffly down into it. He hugged his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, face scrunching up while he prayed to any higher being listening to make his head stop hurting and his stomach stop feeling like a washing machine on spin cycle. "Hn," was all he could manage as an afterthought.
Dave set his coffee down and stiffly pushed up off the sofa to shuffle over to where Chris was sitting to check the bump on his head. He could see the bruise on the side of his head from where he had been sitting, he needed to make sure there wasn't some subsequent brain damage or something. Chris had been too pissed the night before to really feel any pain. There was some dried blood, too, and it needed cleaning up. "Don't move," he told him hoarsely with a small smirk. Chris just weakly flipped him off, no danger of him moving much at all now he had a soft surface under his ass. Dave went into Chris' bathroom, which looked like a bomb had hit it and didn't smell much better. He found the medicine cupboard, dug out some antiseptic wipes and cream with a small dressing and some cotton balls. A doctor's medicine cupboard was always more efficient than a standard one. Chris even had three sorts of medication for upset stomachs and diarrhoea, as well as four packs of band-aids in different shapes and sizes. Never really could be over cautious.
Once he was back, Dave started to gently clean up the cut, which just looked worse than it really was because of the bruising around it. Just above Chris's temple, about in line with his eyebrow, but no one could really get that drunk and not have an injury or two to show for it. "You got about twelve text messages on your cell," he offered, keeping his voice low so it didn't drill on Chris' inevitably aching head. "It's probably Serena," he added calmly and dabbed at the dried blood to clean it up.
Chris had hissed softly when the antiseptic first touched the open cut and squeezed his eyes closed again. He really wasn't going to ask about it. He had no idea he had hurt his head, making sure to avoid looking in the mirror when he had been in the bathroom. He knew he had a fuck of a headache, but it made sense now why that side of his head hurt more. It took a few moments for Dave's words to filter into his brain, though, and when they did, he cracked his eyes open tentatively and glanced up at his friend. "Why her?" he asked hesitantly. It was weird for Dave to just jump to that conclusion. Why not Eva, or even Proctor? One of his other mates?
"Because she's your exclusive?" Dave offered smugly, smirking again now as he continued to calmly clean Chris' wound. "Absinthe isn't your friend, my man. Not only does it make you go ass over tit in the gutter of Miami's main drag, it also makes you spill your guts over the third shot. But don't worry. I won't tell anyone about Serena's yellow bra with red roses or the silk sheets."
Not a lot made Dr Chris Deleo speechless, but this was one of them. His mouth dropped open a little and for a few moments, he just gaped blankly, blinking slowly, even though his eyes were scratchy and stinging like sandpaper had been rubbed in them. Had he seriously fucked up so badly as to get pissed and reveal his and Serena's secret, that really, really needed to be a secret for a lot of different reasons? There was no way they had been obvious enough for Dave to guess, right? Absinthe? Who the fuck let him loose on Absinthe? "Oh... fuck..." he finally got out through a pained groan. "I was bullshitting?" he added, trying to save face. Now if only that came out sounding more like a confident statement than an uncertain question.
"Dude," Dave stated dryly with an amused snort, examining the bruising which Serena could well have something to say about as his exclusive. Exclusives did things like worry about drunken head injuries. "Give me some credit. Give yourself some credit. If you were bullshitting, there wouldn't have been a running commentary on her nipples. You would've gone the whole hog and told me about every inch of her. Look... man... I ain't gonna say anything, alright? I think it's great. Really makes sense of the lesbian bullshit, too. See? I do have a slight indication of when you are bullshitting me. At the end of the day, something like this, you gotta tell someone. I think you're playing with fire, but I also think it's about time you parked your cock in one garage for more than one night, and Serena's hot, smart, good sense of humour. She's right up your alley. Are you about to barf or do you just look like it?" he asked warily, catching the colour of Chris' face and taking a safe step out of the line of fire.
Chris had no certain answer to that question. He put his fist up to his mouth and pressed the backs of his fingers against his mouth. This wasn't the sort of revelation he needed to deal with through a rough hangover. He was even almost scared to check his cell in case the messages were from Serena. They could be. They texted each other a lot when they weren't together, but he also received texts off a lot of other people too. He wasn't ready to cross that bridge. How the hell was he going to tell her that he had spilled the beans when he was trashed? Dave knew, and while it could be a lot worse, he still was unsteady about the knowledge being beyond just him and Serena. He trusted Dave, but it was still making him feel sick. "I'm never, ever friggin drinking again," he finally mumbled.
Dave secured the small dressing over the cut so it wouldn't get infected and then squeezed Chris' shoulder softly. "I ain't gonna say anything, C. Come on. You know you can trust me. I'll help you guys, alright? I get why you're keeping it on the hush, but I also don't think you're going anything wrong. We were talking about a lot last night, did a lot of catching up... which I guess we can do again when you're sober. It wasn't like you just randomly threw it at me. We were talking about relationships, I asked you if you were seeing anyone. I think you must've just wanted to share it with me, dude. Here... look... you want coffee? Tea? Maybe you should just go back to bed?"
Chris wet his lips with a stifled sigh. "No, it's... I'm glad you know, man. Didn't really want secrets from you. It was probably gonna come to a point where I needed to say anyway. Especially considering..." he waved his hand a little, "you got the hots for Aimee. She's Serena's closest friend here. I was already seeing a whole lotta complicated, and you know me and complicated ain't buddies."
Dave huffed out a heavy breath and sat back down on the sofa, picking up his coffee again. He didn't really have the energy to keep standing anyway. At least in a few days, Chris' head would heal, he just had to learn that no drunken revelations could be taken back. "You make me sound like I have a fucking high school crush. I don't know her, I haven't even met her. I just think she's gorgeous and obviously friggin smart to have a residency with Dr Sable. That doesn't mean she's automatically going to want anything to do with me, let alone want to date me. Don't you think I should just be focusing on finding my feet in Miami before I even start thinking about shit like dating?"
"Nope. I think you need to stop making excuses and ask her out. You aren't going to know what she wants until you ask. Finding your feet in a place like Miami takes knowing people and not falling into the trap of just living to work. You gotta have a social life too. I can get her number off Serena. You don't even have that to hide be-" Chris held up his hand and scrambled out of the chair. "Hold that thought, gonna puke." He stumbled up the hall and into the bathroom again, making it just in time. Well, he made the bath tub anyway.
Dave scratched the back of his head, his own stomach clenching a little in sympathy. He heard Chris moan through his self-inflicted suffering and then started biting the corner of his thumb nail in thought. It sounded so easy, but he was just nervous. He hadn't really dated in awhile, and while Aimee was definitely his type, he wasn't sure his schedule would let him pull off a relationship, especially considering the chances it would clash with hers. "What made you bite the bullet and ask Serena out?" he called up the hall after his friend. The apartment was small enough to be able to carry a conversation out across a couple of rooms.
Chris grabbed a towel off the rack and pressed it against his mouth before wiping his lips with a strained groan. He rinsed the bath and then went back out into the main area of the apartment, taking the towel with him. "I didn't," he admitted, taking his seat again and curling up in a ball on it, putting his head down on the arm rest. "It just sort of happened. We were sleeping together, which just sort of happened too. I pulled a really long on-call shift, which turned out to be one she trumped the asshole Kay, an Ortho you'll probably cross at some point. I was overtired, having trouble falling asleep, and she showed up on my doorstep to share her victory with me. We were getting closer as mates, it just seemed like something she should do. She hadn't been on MT1 long, but you know how it rolls, it's good to debrief after a hard shift, chat it all out. We do that a lot on our team. She had tried to find me at work, but I knocked off a little earlier so I didn't keel over. She wanted to make sure I was okay, so she could kill two birds with one stone. She stole my address, which was cute. She came here, I was ready for bed... one thing led to another." He had to paused when his stomach threatened again and he sat forward, ready to bolt back to the bathroom, but he swallowed of the wave of nausea back so he could settle again. "Some shit happened after that. I got sick, she got caught up in some bad stuff at work and she needed some comfort. I know it sounds cliche, but it hasn't been. The exclusive... well, I kind of challenged her into it. Didn't think much about it, but it works. We have fun, we have a laugh. I dunno... I guess you could say I'm happy. Haven't done anything like this in a long time, I don't wanna overanalyse it. In saying that, you shouldn't overanalyse anything with Aimee, either. Just ask her out, see what happens. The worst she can do is say no. Live for the moment."
Those last words bit at something inside Dave and he nodded, though didn't say anything at first. His hands tucked tighter around the mug and he sipped his coffee to buy him time. Chris really didn't remember anything of their conversation the previous night, he had no recollection of anything Dave had told him. Dave just couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and he was too tired right now to revisit it. "Yeah... live for the moment..." he repeated quietly. "When you get to answering Serena's texts, maybe you could get Aimee's number for me? You're right. There are worse things in life to go through than a girl saying no..."
"Like a chick with fake tits?" Chris offered with a weak smirk. He kicked the recliner foot rest out and curled up in a ball on his side, grabbing a cushion and putting it over his head. "I'm going to die now. Get Serena's number off my phone, text her for Aimee's number. You'll make her week. Love you, dude," he mumbled and gave Dave a thumbs up in his general direction.
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