Justin soon learns that his partner is not very 'patient.'

Ten Minutes Later - Brian's Corvette

Despite the excruciating pain radiating from his wrist, Brian's eyes widened as Justin once more careened around a corner and accelerated to within a few feet of the car in front of them. "You're too close!" he gasped out in between rapid pants of breath. He was cradling his right arm with his left, rocking back and forth and hyperventilating from the pain, which was off the scale. He knew the moment he had hit the hardwood floor of the loft after replacing the last bulb, and missed a rung on the way down that he had broken his wrist. His hand was cocked backward, swollen to double its normal size, and looked more like a claw. And the pain! At that moment, he thought he would gladly go through chemo and radiation again, even several times, if he could replace that with the excruciating pain he was presently experiencing.

"No, I'm not; I'm watching it," Justin protested, gritting his teeth as Brian moaned softly in pain. He glanced over for just a second at his partner, who was in so much distress that he had tears in his eyes, and he was flooded with guilt. If he hadn't made such a big deal out of that damn lightbulb being burned out...

"Stop!"

Justin peered over quickly once more at his partner; he always did wear his heart on his sleeve, and Brian could read his expressions like a book. "But if I hadn't made such a big deal out of..."

"No, I mean STOP! You're about to hit that car in front of you! And it's a minivan." Brian said the last word distastefully, as if he was referring to a poor choice of steak, as Justin jammed the brakes on, causing Brian to lurch forward and briefly hit his head on the front window, even though he was snugly held in by his seatbelt; in this older car, there was no hand grip over his head. "Ow! Justin!" he gasped out his partner's name with a shaky breath. "Are you trying to crack my windshield, too? Or my fucking head?"

Justin rolled his eyes as he came to a stop behind the minivan, tapping his left foot impatiently as he waited for the light to change back to green. "If you had just let me call 9-1-1..."

"Are you kidding me?" Brian had to take a shallow breath to continue. "Who knows what type of germs are on those ambulance gurneys?" He moaned as another wave of pain hit him. "No, thank you. I'd rather risk you total...totaling my car."

Justin sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing; after all, they were almost at the hospital now. "You should have let me ice that," he gently chided his companion.

"With a fucking package of peas? I didn't even know I HAD a package of peas in the freezer!"

Justin quickly pressed down on the gas pedal as soon as the light turned green, relieved that the minivan full of kids that he had been forced to tail for at least a couple of miles was turning right. He barely gave the person enough time to leave the main road before he swerved around the rear of the vehicle and sped up toward the hospital's emergency room. "Do you think I miraculously make those homecooked meals appear with a magic wand?" he couldn't help pointing out. He shook his head in exasperation. "But, no! You couldn't stand the thought of using something so...domestic...to help alleviate your pain!"

"I was NOT going into a hospital with a fucking package of Jolly Green Giant peas around my hand!"

"Suit yourself," Justin retorted. He DID feel guilty, justifiably or not, about what had happened, but Brian could be the most stubborn person he knew. And tonight, he was the epitome of it. He heard Brian cry out once more as he hit a speed bump perhaps a bit too quickly in his haste to rush toward the emergency room doors as he pulled up to the sidewalk and pushed the gearshift into park. "Stay there," he commanded as he pointed a finger at his lover in warning.

Brian harrumphed - as if he had much of a choice - but he was in too much pain to object as Justin quickly slid out of the driver's seat, slammed the door, and rushed around to the passenger side to open it. "Let me unbuckle your seatbelt," he told Brian as he reached across him.

"I can do it. I have TWO hands, remember?"

Justin let out a heavy sigh. "Yes. Two hands, and one obstinate ego." Before Brian could argue, he reached over and unlatched the seatbelt. "Now stay there, and don't move. I'm going to go get a wheelchair."

"Oh, no you aren't!" Brian groused. "I am NOT a fucking invalid!"

"Maybe not, but your leg almost gave out on you twice in the elevator," Justin reminded him sternly. "Now STAY PUT!"

Brian pursed his lips together firmly, but to Justin's relief he did as he was told. His leg had almost buckled twice before he could get to his car; he had hit his right leg in addition to his arm, but thankfully he hadn't fallen as a result. He closed his eyes briefly as another wave of pain lanced through his arm; when he opened them back up, Justin was standing there with a standard hospital wheelchair padded with a green, vinyl seat.

"Lovely," Brian muttered as Justin instructed him to wait while he applied the brakes to hold the apparatus in place. "What the fuck is that? Naugahyde?" he asked. "At least get me one with leather."

"Get in," Justin demanded tersely, as he gripped both handles of the wheelchair and watched carefully as Brian managed to use his good arm to swing himself up out of the car and stand up on shaky legs, groaning loudly as he practically fell into the seat.

"Shit!" he cursed as he hunched over and once more cradled his hand that was throbbing violently now.

"Hold on," Justin urged him as he used his foot to release the brakes on the wheelchair, and turned it around to head toward the emergency room. "I'll help you inside, and then go park the car."

"Oh, no you won't!" Brian exclaimed in horror. "Some asshole will steal it!"

"Oh, for..." Justin harrumphed. "Brian, don't be ridiculous! It's a hospital, not a mall parking lot!"

Brian placed his feet down firmly on the ground, refusing to place them in the foot rests. Justin could almost see him crossing his hands over his chest in defiance, too; at least in his mind. "I'm not going anywhere until you get back in my car, park it somewhere...and...promise to lock it." The more Brian spoke, the raspier his pain-laden voice became.

"You are the most..." Justin wasn't even sure he had the right words. This gave a whole new meaning to the words 'putting your foot down,' but it was still pure Brian. "Unbelievably stubborn person!" He sighed heavily, consumed with a mixture of guilt over him being the cause, at least indirectly, of Brian's predicament, and his exasperation over his lover's sense of priorities. "Okay, okay. But you're staying in the wheelchair until I do. Pick your feet up."

"Promise me first."

That earned Brian an eyeroll. Justin crossed the index and middle fingers of his left hand as he held it up like a Boy Scout taking a pledge. "I promise to take care of your baby, and lock it up. You keep being such a shitty patient, and I'll lock YOU up along with it!" Before Brian could protest, Justin barked out one word - "Feet!" - before grasping the handles of the wheelchair and pushing Brian over to a level area of the emergency room entrance near one of the brick pillars. "I'll be right back," he told him, as he engaged the wheel brakes, a mental picture of a runaway wheelchair flashing in his mind.

"Make sure you double park it, too!" Brian hoarsely called out in between painful breaths as Justin hurriedly walked back to the idling car.

"If he didn't have a broken wrist, I swear I'd break it for him," Justin muttered, shaking his head as he opened the driver's side door and put the car into gear to swing over to the nearby parking lot. He had to circle around twice before he finally found two spots together, and - feeling like a greedy thief - he parked the green, vintage vehicle square in the center of the dividing line, warily casting an eye around to make sure no one was observing his transgression. He quickly opened the door and made sure both were locked before rushing back over to his partner, whose breathing was ragged and shallow, clearly communicating the agony he was in. Justin bit his lip as the guilt once more consumed him before unlocking the wheels and rolling the chair toward the sliding glass doors of the ER entrance.


The Next Morning - Loft

"Oh, this is just great," Brian moaned. "How the fuck do they expect me to change my clothes? Take a damn shower?Get my needs met?" Brian was sitting on the couch near the right end, his hand - now bandaged heavily with brown gauze like a mummy after having been examined and x-rayed the night before - lying on top of the couch's curled arm, two pillows piled under it to keep it elevated. The frozen package of peas that Justin had tried to use earlier was now resting triumphantly on top of Brian's forearm; he had been too exhausted and in too much pain to argue with Justin's choice of icing material.

"I can't type with this damn claw! You...you know how ridiculous I'm going to look trying to conduct pitch meetings? Maybe I'll get lucky, though, and we can snag Red Lobster."

Justin bit back a laugh - figuring his partner wouldn't appreciate that - as he walked over and handed Brian a couple of pain pills; he waited long enough for Brian to toss them in his mouth before giving him a bottle of water to swallow them down; he had quietly unscrewed the top for him before giving it to him, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

"Give me another one."

Justin shook his head. "No...it says only two in a six-hour period, Brian."

"Fuck the damn rules! It hurts like a damn motherfucker!"

Justin sat down beside him, thinking, if only I hadn't been so adamant about needing that light changed...But he wasn't about to add to his partner's problems by overdosing him, either, no matter how much pain he was in. "Brian, the doctor said you can have ibuprofen with it, but no more than two Oxycodone every six hours. You heard him."

"Just give me the damn bottle, Justin!"

Justin lifted an eyebrow at him defiantly as he snatched it away from his grasp. He knew there was no possibility that Brian could use enough pressure to push down and twist the prescription bottle to open it anyway - but the stubborn man would probably die trying. "No way," he told him. "I got you into this mess, and I'm going to get you out of it. And what difference does it make if you can't change your clothes? You're not going into work. You heard the doctor. At least two weeks of rest after surgery tomorrow. NO working, which includes the computer."

Brian glared at him. "I DO have one good hand left, you know. I'll just type with that." Silently, though, with as much pain as he was in, he knew there was no way he would even feel like typing; at least not for the foreseeable future.

Justin snorted. "You can try. But you're not exactly the fastest typist even with two hands." He sighed; despite what the doctor had advised, he knew Brian was not going to be a model patient. "Remember, Brian: RICE. Rest, Ice..."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard the spiel, Sunshine. It figures anything involving you would be related to either food or art." His eyes lit up. "Now THAT'S an idea! You can draw me resting, icing, compressing, and elevating. How's that?"

"Sounds kinky," he dryly commented as Brian snorted at him, despite his ever-present discomfort. He had tried to sleep in their bed last night, but gave up after being unable to find a place to successfully elevate his injured arm. He finally had resorted to sleeping sitting up on the couch, using the armrest and some pillows to prop his arm up while resting his legs on the coffee table - with another pillow underneath them, so he didn't damage the surface. It was bad enough breaking his arm; the last thing he wanted was to compound it by marring one of his most treasured pieces of furniture. Needless to say, without the comfort of his bed - and, if he weren't too proud to admit it, the feel of his partner's body pressed up against his - it had not been a restful night. Nor did he think he would have that luxury for some time to come. Come. Yeah, right. He wasn't even going to think about that. Without his dominant hand working, he certainly didn't feel 'dominant;' at least, not in the sex department. And as astonishing as it might normally sound, at the moment sex was the last thing on his mind. Well, maybe not, he decided, as he glanced up longingly at the object of his desire, who was presently standing nearby. He bit back a groan - not from pain this time - as Justin bent over the coffee table to reset the pillow underneath his feet.

The blond turned around at the sound of Brian's voice. "Don't even think about it, Mister," he told him, instantly recognizing the difference in tone. "You couldn't even if you wanted to right now."

"I could on my side."

Justin chortled. "Even the greatest fucker in the world - and you would win, hands down, in more ways than one," he assured his lover, "can't fuck without using both hands to brace himself. I wouldn't want to take that chance, anyway."

His lover's mouth hung open in disappointment. He shook his head at his 'nurse's' demands. "Then ride me. Your hands work just fine." Brian pointed out, waggling his brows.

Justin laughed then. "Always the creative one," he murmured. "Brian, even if we could have sex that way, there's no way I would even think about doing that. Not with your hand like it is, and you in so much pain." He paused, biting his lip. "I really am sorry for getting you into this mess. I should have just let the fucking light bulb go."

"What's done is done." Brian sighed. "Well, if you won't give me more of the good shit, and you won't ride me, then at least you can do something else to keep my mind off the pain." He lifted both eyebrows expectantly as he shamelessly spread his long legs apart in clear invitation, his desire for his partner clearly broadcast by the stretching of the cotton fabric in his groin area.

Justin laughed at the little-boy like anticipation written on Brian's face. "I think that can be arranged," he told him, as he knelt down next to Brian and began to pull his loose-fitting sweatpants down to rest on his thighs. "By the way...your mouth wasn't fractured when you fell." Brian huffed. "So, I expect you to put it to good use once I'm done with your not-so-little problem here. And I'm NOT talking about carrying on a lengthy conversation, either."

Brian's eyebrows rose as he shrugged. It wound up being more of a one-armed shrug, however, since his other arm was resting on the pillows. "I don't know. I'm in a lot of pain..."

"You keep it up, and you'll not only be in a world of pain, Mr. Kinney. But you'll also have balls so blue by the time your hand is healed, they'll look like giant jawbreakers."

Brian took one look at the defiant expression on his lover's face after his saucy comeback, and he couldn't help reluctantly chuckling, despite his pain. "Okay, you win, Sunshine." He winced. "And it's 'ball.' Just that lopsided image is enough to make me behave...for now. So how about taking care of my problem here, huh?" he reminded him. At least his cock had no problem responding. Thank God it had been unaffected, or he might go insane during his convalescence.

Justin smiled as he reached over to grab Brian's cock through the lightweight fabric, wrapping his fingers around it as he heard his partner sigh in satisfaction. "Okay," he told him, his blue eyes twinkling as he gazed thoughtfully into Brian's face as if he were considering the meaning of Life. His hands suddenly stilled, his face scrunching in thoughtfulness.

"What?"

"I was just wondering if your cum is going to taste different after they pump all that medicine into your system during surgery tomorrow. We should have asked the doctor about that during the consultation yesterday."

"No...WE should get busy and get me off!"

Justin laughed. "My, aren't we impatient?" he replied with a saucy grin as Brian scowled at him. His hand still gripping Brian's cock, but not moving, he mused, "I just wonder..."

Brian growled, "Well, I don't!" He glanced down at his neglected cock; he had to admit - a bossy Justin was such a turn on sometimes. "Justin...fuck...put that smart-ass mouth to good use, will you?" he groaned in frustration.

A few seconds later, Brian's pain was temporarily forgotten as his sexy, blond, sassy 'nurse' finally got down to business and did just that.


The Next Day...Alleghany Hospital Ambulatory Center

"Justin, I can't stand it anymore! Stop tapping your fingers on the table!" Daphne hissed in her friend's ear. She had been leafing through a well-worn copy of People magazine, the Price is Right flashing across the television screen directly across from them. "Go get some coffee. Go to the restroom. Draw some people here. I mean, have you seen some of these characters?" She sighed as Justin remained silent, biting his lip anxiously. She couldn't help feeling sorry for him, despite the constant drumming she had had to endure for the past hour. "I'm sure you'll be able to go back and see him soon."

"What if they don't let me back there?" he fretted. "I'm not related to him."

"You're the designated appointee on his Durable Power of Attorney; of course, they'll let you back there! You just need to be a little patient." Daphne grinned at her unintended joke as Justin scowled at her.

As if right on cue, a portly nurse wearing a pair of Disney scrubs a size too small and a weary expression on her face opened the door on the left of the waiting room and called out, "Justin Taylor? Is there a Mr. Taylor here?"

Justin popped up like a Jack in the Box as he replied, "That's me."

"Go," Daphne told him as Justin spared her a quick glance. He nodded briefly before rushing over to follow the nurse inside the surgery preparation rooms. "Thank God," she muttered. "We need your help."

Justin frowned. "My help? What do you mean? Is he okay?" He soon found out that he didn't have to worry or even ask which cubicle Brian was in. Even if the nurse hadn't been leading the way, he would have found Brian without any difficulty. All he had to do was listen.

"If I have to give you my fucking birthdate one more time, I swear..."

"It's hospital procedure, Mr. Kinney, to insure we're working on the right patient."

"You've been here, what? Three times in the last ten minutes? Has my appearance changed that much?"

Justin thought he heard a loud sigh before a man asked, "And we're working on which arm today?" Even Justin had to roll his eyes at that one as Brian replied sarcastically, "The one that's bandaged up! Did you come from an actual medical school, or some fucking online university college? And how many times do I have to repeat myself? I...need...my...medicine! This is an insane asylum! Where are my clothes?"

Oh, shit, Justin couldn't help thinking as he and the nurse rushed over to Brian's cubicle, currently closed off by a hanging privacy curtain. An exasperated looking man, wearing an RN badge on a lanyard, glanced over at the newcomers in a clear expression of relief. "You're Mr. Taylor, I hope?"

"Sunshine!"

Justin blushed as Brian practically yelled out his nickname. "Yes, I am," he told the man as he walked the few steps over to his partner's bedside. Brian was wearing a light blue, nondescript hospital gown and a scowl on his face. An IV was already hooked up to his left arm, and an oxygen finger cuff adorned his left index finger. An automated blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his upper left arm. Clearly, this particular patient was going nowhere.

Justin sat down next to his lover as he reached to brush the back of his hand against Brian's cheek. "Brian, you can't go anywhere hooked up to all these machines."

"Watch me!" To Justin's horror, Brian sat up more in bed and started to swing his legs to the side...only to have the male nurse grab them before he could move too far.

"Brian, for God's sake! Stay put!" Desperately, Justin gazed over at the male nurse. At least with his pudgy build and bear-like qualities, gay or straight even Brian wouldn't be thinking lascivious thoughts at the moment. But he was also strong. "Has he been given any kind of sedation yet?" he asked, thinking that was a dumb question, considering Brian's demeanor.

To his surprise, however, the male nurse nodded his head. "Just a couple of minutes ago, along with an antibiotic. It should take effect soon and calm him down. But in the meantime..."

Justin nodded in understanding. "I'll watch over him," he promised. He peered down sternly at his partner. "And you will be a model patient until you're out of surgery, you got that?" he demanded. His expression softened as he realized the true reason for his partner's surly behavior. Brian was nervous; afraid, even. One day when the two of them were conversing about how kids and broken bones seemed to go hand-in-hand (Gus had just suffered a broken finger during a baseball game at Little League), he had rattled off all the injuries he had sustained as a kid (broken elbow when he fell out of a tree, broken leg when he had jumped down from a fence; even having his tonsils taken out, along with his wisdom teeth). It was one of those rare occasions when he and Brian had had a heart-to-heart discussion about their childhoods, and while his partner had confessed to being worked over from time to time by his bastard of a father with his fist, somehow he had escaped ever having to undergo any surgery; at least at the hands of his father. The testicle surgery and subsequent radiation treatments, however, had been unpleasant to say the least. So, the great, typically nonplussed Brian Kinney was worried and anxious.

Both nurses gratefully accepted his offer, the male one assuring both of them that the medicine would take effect soon, and they would be wheeling Brian into the operating room shortly. As they left and closed the curtain behind them, allowing both men some much-needed privacy, Justin scooted his chair closer to his lover and caressed his cheek. "You are going to come through this just fine; just like you always do with everything," he assured him. "And you won't even know a thing while they're fixing your hand. You'll be in LaLa Land, sleeping like a baby. I'm a veteran of these kinds of things, remember?"

Brian looked over at him dubiously, even as he took solace from Justin's soothing voice and touch. He needed something familiar at the moment that he could hold onto, both literally and figuratively, as he reached out with his free hand to capture his partner's and twine their fingers together. "I fucking hate hospitals," Brian admitted, his previous barking tempered somewhat now by the medication starting to take effect; that, and the presence of his lover. Justin was the main reason why he detested hospitals in the first place. That, and the fact that his son had been a patient in the ER from time to time, as well as his own stay in the hospital.

Justin nodded with a half-smile as they lay their hands down on the bed between them. "I know you do," he told him. "I'm not so fond of them myself."

Brian gazed into the blue orbs as he responded, "No, I'm sure you're not," he murmured, becoming sleepy.

"But, hey, it's not been all bad," Justin pointed out. "Gus's birth was a good thing."

Brian nodded, a smile slightly gracing his lips as he became increasingly drowsy. "Yeah...that was a good thing," he agreed as Justin nodded back at him.

He leaned down to give Brian a brief but tender kiss on the lips. "Uh, huh...a really good thing. That night was also the night we met. And now look at us."

"Yeah...I'm wearing the latest fashion ensemble from Scrubs-R-Us."

Justin grinned as he revealed, "Actually, it's a Dickies brand gown."

Brian snorted at the irony. "Well, whatever brand it is, this fucking 'gown' sure wouldn't cover YOUR ample ass, Sunshine," he commented.

"Hey! It's not THAT big!"

Brian smiled sleepily as he struggled to stay alert. "Oh, yeah, it is. But I like big."

Justin laughed softly. "Yeah, we established that long ago." He noticed Brian's grip lightening up just a bit, and his eyes fluttering open and shut; no doubt, the medication was taking effect.

Just then, the curtain was pulled back and two nurses reentered, one of them the burly bear from before. "Time to head into the OR, Mr. Kinney," he told Brian. "If you'll head out to the waiting room, Sir, they'll buzz you when he's in Recovery."

Justin nodded, rising to stand...only to have Brian suddenly squeeze his hand.

"Hey, I'll be right here when you get back," Justin told him softly as he leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "But no fucking any of the nurses or doctors in the meantime, okay?" he whispered in his ear. He regretfully let go of Brian's hand as he stood aside to allow the two men to release the brake on Brian's hospital bed and begin to wheel him out of the room.

"No promises," Justin heard his partner say despite his lethargic state as he grinned. He watched Brian and the two men head toward the double doors of the operating room, his smile fading somewhat to be replaced with worry, as he turned and walked back toward the waiting room.