At least I managed to stay at the hospital two hours longer than I did yesterday, before the fatigue hit again and the rash began to itch. I tried to work through it, but when the visions of starting bonfires with my paperwork began to fly around my head, I took it as a cue to pack it up and call it a night. The glaring headlights and insane drivers of the Garden State did nothing for my less-than-stellar spirits on the way home. By the time I turned onto my street, my mood was such that any hapless pedestrian who might be unlucky enough to stand between me and 221B ran the risk of meeting a violent and bloody end.
I stomped through the front door and into the kitchen, grabbed the brandy and slugged down a glass. As I was pouring a second glass, the cane lightly tapped my leg and an arm slipped around my waist.
"That's my brandy," Greg said.
"I'll get some more," I said, making short work of the second glass, and I don't even like brandy to begin with. It was closest and that's what I chose.
"I know you will," he said, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Did we have a bad day, Dr. Wilson?"
"Not bad," I sighed. "Just...endless. Sometimes it seems like it never ends."
Wrapping his arm tighter, he said, "Poor, poor Jimmy. If you're not sick, you're buried in forms that require your special signature. How's a man supposed to do all that and find time to flirt with the nurses?"
"It's not just a job, it's an adventure." Enough alcohol. I set the glass in the sink, wishing I had picked the scotch instead.
"Did you get caught up?" he asked.
"A little bit. I'm such a lucky guy that I get to go back and do it all again tomorrow."
"Mmmm...a thrill a minute," he said with a soft chuckle. "Is that all you're upset about?"
"I'm still fatigued all to hell and the damn rash is starting to itch." I twisted out of his grip and leaned into the corner of the counter. "Why? Should I be mad at something else?"
"Yes."
"What am I supposed to be mad at?"
"You should be mad at me, but you're not. Now why is that?"
"Wait...I don't understand," I said with a frown. "Why am I supposed to be mad?"
Greg stood simply with his hands folded on the cane like he was about to give an important speech. "Has shingles affected your short-term memory, because I distinctly remember giving you a big, sloppy wet kiss in front of our esteemed colleagues this morning."
"I remember that too."
"And that kiss didn't bother you?" He smiled and some disbelief showed in it.
"Was it supposed to?"
"Yes, Jimmy, it was," he began, tilting his head. "You were supposed to come crying to me, all angry and bewildered at how I could do such a thing. Then I would calm you down, and we'd kiss and make up, preferably in front of other esteemed colleagues. But you had to go and actually work, not caring about what I did and thus ruining all of my plans."
"Yeah...okay..," I didn't have clue if he was serious or not, but he'd never tell me anyway. "You should let me in on your diabolical plans every now and then so I don't ruin them by working."
"I'll have to remember that," Greg said, and leaned back by the sink. "So you didn't give that little stunt I pulled this morning another thought all damn day."
"Oh, I thought of something," I answered with a grin.
"Dare I ask what it is?"
"It was...," I stuttered, "it was the looks on Chase and Cameron's faces." Then I had to stop talking because I was too busy giggling like a complete moron, and soon Greg joined me. Finally, I could talk and breath again, and wiped the tears of laughter away. "Oh man, the looks on their faces were priceless. Absolutely priceless. Too bad neither of us had a camera right then."
"True, Jimmy, true." Greg smiled and brought his hand up and ran the thumb along my cheek. "But that still doesn't tell me why you didn't give it a second thought."
I clasped his wrist and held the hand in place. "There was nothing to give a second thought about. I was caught off guard, I'll admit, but I wasn't bothered by it. You were just being you, and why should I give a second thought about that? You and I have nothing to be ashamed about and we have nothing to hide. And if people don't like it that's too damned bad."
Greg's smile got even wider. "Spoken like a divorced man who doesn't give a damn about the rules anymore. I'm so proud of you," he said, taking his hand away and folding it back on the cane. "Still fatigued, huh? You look tired."
"It's still there, not as bad, but still there."
"Too tired to keep me company for a while?"
"Doing what?"
"C'mon, Dr. Rule-Breaker," he grinned and guided me to the sofa. "You're a smart guy, I'm sure you can think of something to pass the time."
