Jimmy spends a lot of time watching Doctor Mallard at work. After all, his job is to learn from Ducky and to hope to become half as skilled as Ducky is. Maybe most people don't feel this way about their bosses, but Jimmy likes studying Ducky's skilled hands as Ducky tells him tales about all of his past adventures.
Other people can't always understand Ducky or his stories, but Jimmy can. Doctor Mallard just likes a little bit of company for his thoughts, and Jimmy can always tune them out if he needs to concentrate on Ducky's precise cuts and measurements. He spends a lot of time watching, learning, and longing, because that's his place.
One day when they are preparing for an autopsy, Ducky is startled by Jimmy dropping a sharps container onto the floor. Yelping in pain, he drops his scalpel immediately upon realizing he has accidentally wounded himself with it. Staring curiously at the wound, he strips off his gloves and orders Jimmy to put on his own pair, sitting down to examine his still-bleeding hand and finger.
"I managed to nick myself quite well, Mr. Palmer. I do believe this will require stitches."
Jimmy stutters. "We should get you to a hospital!" Because he -really- does not want to be put in this position.
Dr. Mallard smiles. "Nonsense, we have everything right here. You'll do fine."
"I like my bodies dead, Ducky." Jimmy says uneasily, grabbing the first aid kit off the wall and spraying saline into the wound before pressing a pile of gauze on it.
"You'll do fine."
Jimmy realizes he's not going to get anywhere with this line of argument, so he lays a drape down on the table and begins to prepare, dousing Ducky's wound with iodine before preparing an injection of lidocaine+epinephrine and administering it. Ducky cringes as the shot goes in, finding it rather more difficult to stare at his own adipose tissue than that of a corpse.
Jimmy sits down and begins the painstakingly delicate work of closing Ducky's wounds as Dr. Mallard praises his slow work and occasionally offers suggestions and guidance, correcting Jimmy's cosmetic technique. "Come on now, Jimmy, I'm not going to be wearing my funeral robes over these stitches."
Jimmy blushes, stuttering his reply. "Sorry, Doctor."
"You seem rather distracted, Jimmy." Ducky observes, staring at his face.
Distracted would be rather an understatement, because he's trying his best to fold his lap over a growing traitorous erection and hide the flush on his cheeks and concentrate on not maiming Doctor Mallard at the same time. "Sorry, Doctor. Its been a while since my patients had pulses."
Ducky chuckles. "Does every patient with a pulse excite you this much, Mr. Palmer?"
Jimmy freezes, caught between running away and knowing that he should finish his work, that his obligation is to finish his work. He shakes his head, not looking up from Ducky's hand to see the judgment on his face.
Ducky continues almost conversationally. "Which part of this excites you, Mr. Palmer?"
Jimmy gulps two breaths before tying another stitch and beginning the next one, ugly thick stitches clearly visible on Ducky's skin. "You... always, you. The blood is... a compounding factor."
"I'm flattered, Mr. Palmer." Ducky says in his most soothing doctor's voice. "I do wonder if you would like to be excited in this way again."
Jimmy presses his eyes together for a moment, still refusing to look up as he finishes his final stitch. "How? Why?"
Ducky smiles, and although Jimmy doesn't see it, he hears it in Ducky's voice. "I rather think I would like to see how much you enjoy such a sight under less stressful circumstances, Mr. Palmer. I would suggest we repeat the experiment with a more benign tool, however. A needle, perhaps? Or does the wounding add to the appeal? I suspect we could find several sites suitable for a controlled wound."
Jimmy is bandaging the wound and can't prevent a tiny "uh" from escaping just before he swallows down his thoughts and sounds that arise from Ducky's words. "Uh. Its the blood, Doctor Mallard. Not the... not the wound." Jimmy says, taping over the gauze to prevent it from slipping off and patting Ducky's hand uselessly.
"Well, would you?" Ducky asks, using his free hand to lift Jimmy's head up towards him.
Jimmy thinks of the blood underneath the layers of bandage, and the fact that Ducky is willingly offering something straight out of his fantasies. He nods. "I would like that very much."
"Be prepared to come home with me on Friday, Mr. Palmer. I think you'll need to call a substitute for me until Thursday, as I suspect this wound will take a few days to heal enough to allow me to resume work." Ducky says, getting up and leaving the autopsy lab.
Palmer stares at the waste on the table and the scalpel still on the floor, and wonders what just happened.