A/N What could be worse for a hospitalized Roy? Well, that would depend on his room-mate. With thanks to Madi, here's my first fic for this truly classic series. I hope you enjoy!

John And Jerry

He'd faced floods. Fires. Pile ups on the freeway. Rescued countless kittens from equally countless trees. Saved the same number of lives with the same stoic calm. So there was reason, no reason at all, why two cheerily grinned words should have made Roy DeSoto cringe in such 'you've-gotta-be-kidding-me' dread.

"Hey, roomie!"

But then, this was Johnny. The kid who could walk down a deserted street on a perfect sunny day, and still be fritzed by a lightning bolt in the next county. Little wonder, then, that Roy now studied his partner with his patented blend of concern and consternation.

"So what have you broken this time?"

Oh, the outrage! The indignation on a face that drew a fond smile onto his own. Yeah, Mama Gage may have been suckered by those big brown eyes, but - nope. Not him. After all these years of 'Awww, c'mon, Roy!', this ol' whipped puppy routine left him completely unmoved.

Yeah, right. If not for his own eyes, carrying out their instinctive check for damage, Roy might have believed it. Still, at least the Calamity Kid had walked in on his own, unbroken legs. Given his usual death's door mishaps, it was a nice change to see just his arm in a sling, instead of his butt.

Just a dressing, too, over his right temple, so... concussion, then, and the required observation.

In his room.

Oh, joy. Still, they'd both be discharged tomorrow, before his ants-in-his-pants partner drove him totally nuts.

Whatever he'd done to himself had clearly affected his hearing too, since Roy's question stayed conveniently unanswered. Instead, Johnny perched himself on the edge of his bed so that he could see what his partner had been watching on his TV. All hope that Roy still had for enjoying it in peace and quiet, however, was predictably short-lived.

"Tom and Jerry?! Seriously?"

Mouthing a silent 'ten' - he'd long stopped bothering with the 'one-to-nine' - Roy threw his new room-mate another of his 'Dammit, Junior!' glares.

"I have two suitably aged kids. What's your excuse?"

Yeah, that had him.

"Hey, I'm their favourite uncle."

Yeah, right. And was he hell.

About to de-bunk that misguided belief, Roy decided more sensibly against it. As his own, less than stellar state reminded him, he hadn't spent last night in Rampart to enjoy its breakfast this morning - though at the rate his toast was disappearing, he'd be lucky if he got its crumbs.

Swiping the last slice while he had the chance, he chased it down with the rest of his orange juice, then settled back to enjoy the latest battle of cat against mouse. And the more he watched Tom being whacked and walloped through walls, trees, floorboards and ceilings, the more he glanced at his partner, and the wider his grin became.

Damn, why hadn't he noticed this before? This freakiest connection between the world's unluckiest paramedic, and the world's unluckiest cat?

Well, now that he had, he really owed it to himself to prove his own theory, and record it all for posterity. Or at least 51's notice board. Right? Right.

Grinning too, though in ignorance of his partner's sudden laughter, John barely noticed the pad that Roy was now writing on. Even when he did, the reason he naturally reached for it wasn't quite on the mark.

"Hey, if you're ordering lunch, I'll have the double burger. Extra cheese. Oh, and don't forget the pickles."

A brow rose over its equally contemptuous eye. Damn, so he was a waiter now? Yeah, to hell with that.

"Sorry, Junior, but all that went in over an hour ago. So unless you want to chance your other arm with Maria, you'll settle for the minestrone."

Now it was Johnny's turn to cringe. Even on a good day, Rampart's chief cook had a notorious temper. You crossed it at your peril, so - yeah, just soup it was, with one of those pastries he'd spotted on Roy's bedside table. Freshly baked too, and... okay, if he wasn't ordering lunch, what was he doing?

That smile, too, was like the Mona Lisa's. And when his stomach growled for something more to fill it, his solution to its 'I-know-something-you-don't' smugness naturally revolved around his next meal.

"So you're ordering dinner, right? Just please, please, tell me it's not pizza."

Ah yes, Maria's most infamous tooth-buster. A serious threat indeed to that ladykiller smile. Checking the menu, Roy's grew to a devilish grin. Okay, so his peaceful morning was now totally ruined, but teasing his partner would be just as much fun.

"It's not pizza."

Returning to his list, Roy then grinned through another silent countdown for what he knew would follow.

'Five... four... thr-...'

Halfway to 'three' and - bingo.

"So what are we getting? And what are you doing?"

Yeah, he had him this time. He'd have to say, too, that bugging his partner's curiosity was much more fun than Tom and Jerry.

"Good news, kiddo. It's lasagne."

'Five... four...'

"And?!"

"Dough balls, and... ooh, peach melba for dessert. Yeah, that's not half bad, and... hey!"

Okay, so he'd let his guard down, and let Johnny snatch his list from his hand. But Roy could still enjoy the confusion on his partner's face as he read through its contents, and tried to figure out what it meant.

"...stuck under a window... tossed through a window... and doors... and brick walls... flattened by bowling balls... choked by a... golf club?!"

Now totally lost, John stared back at his partner as if he'd grown an extra head - and did what every good paramedic would do with a patient who'd spent too long in the sun.

Swatting away that solicitous hand, Roy snatched his list back and tucked it under his leg. Picking up the magazine he'd been reading earlier, he treated his partner to another bright smile - then rolled his eyes when this merely prompted his very own Dr Kildare to check his pulse instead.

On the plus side, his magazine made an excellent swatter.

*whack*

"Ow!"

"Would you stop that, and... okay, if you must know, I was just comparing what's happened to you over the years with what's happened to that equally crazy cat."

To him, of course, it was a fair and reasonable point. To Johnny, though - not so much.

Sitting on his own bed now, safely out of swatting range. he had everything he needed to get his own back. Not just one, but two freshly plumped pillows. With his good arm out of commission, though, the other's aim was just a bit - off. And, just like the black cloud that seemed to follow him everywhere, its timing sucked too.

Deflected by Roy's natural reaction to protect himself, it sailed harmlessly away from him - straight into the hapless soul who chose that same moment to enter their room.

Wiping the remains of his coffee from a once pristine shirt, Hank Stanley threw his version of Roy's best glare towards their mutually familiar source. He thought the world of his crew, he really did. But these were the times when their fearless captain felt more like a teacher for the world's biggest toddlers.

"You know," he said, in a tone that made his latest charges slide under their covers, "I don't know which of you wingnuts need their psych tests first. You, for working a double shift with a hundred plus fever. You, for thinking you'll ever break down a solid oak door. Or whoever had the bright idea of putting both of you in this poor, defenceless room."

Wingnut One, at least, looked genuinely contrite - even if those puppy dog eyes weren't quite the right colour.

"I'm sorry, Cap. I really thought I'd just caught the end of Jenny's cold."

The eyes of another father reminded him otherwise, and Roy accepted their gentle rebuke with the sombre nod it deserved. Yes, for his daughter, it had been one of those childhood colds that she'd already shaken off. But for him, it had been a far more serious virus, that had left him totally drained, and far from the level of fitness his job required. He'd known it, too, but had been too stubbornly loyal to his squad to admit it.

As senior paramedic, he should have known better. With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight - yes, he should have stayed home. Even with Chet and Marco on the sicklist too, and Mike covering on B shift, he knew Cap would have found more healthily fit replacements.

It had been a long day too, one of the hottest they'd had that week. Busy too, as one call for their help piled into another. Insisting to his increasingly anxious partner that he was 'okay' and felt 'fine', he'd been far from either. More severely dehydrated than anyone had realised, his last memory as he'd collapsed in front of them had been the pure shock on their faces.

For Johnny, of course, the scare he'd caused them had been even worse. He'd never seen such fear in his partner's eyes before, and he'd already vowed it would never happen again. As guilt continued to niggle his conscience, his more serious attention now turned to his co-contender for Twit of The Day.

"So that door got you again, huh?"

Appreciating this genuine concern, John nodded - right until his captain's less sympathetic suggestion brought out a snort of laughter.

"Yeah, maybe one of these days, he'll wait 'til someone opens it."

Right on cue, Tom started his charge towards a door that Jerry had so helpfully opened for him. Planting his foot on a well placed roller skate, he shot past his grinning adversary, skidded through a succession of chairs and tables, and crashed through the opposite wall.

For the occupants of Room 365, the result was inevitable. Watched by their thoroughly puzzled captain, Roy and John dissolved into howls of laughter.

"Ooooh, that's gonna hurt."

"Yeah, but at least I haven't skated through a sideboard."

"Yet, Junior. Yet."

Wondering what the hell they'd put in his senior paramedic's IV, Hank left them to it. He was still smiling, though, as he closed the door behind him. What they'd found so funny in an old child's cartoon was completely beyond him, but for the sake of his own sanity - yes, better for him for it to stay that way.