Chapter 3
The low murmur of voices drifted from the kitchen area of the dayroom within Station 51; the scuffing of shoes moving about, the soft thunk of china being set on the wood table, and the clinking of silverware and glass told John Gage that they were just in time for supper. He breezed into the room, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of chowing down on whatever smelled so good. He swore he could smell the tantalizing odor outside as he had backed the squad up the driveway.
His temporary partner Dwyer was right behind him, audibly sniffing the air like a coon dog hot on the scent of his prey. Marco did a little graceful two step to avoid running into the paramedics as he set down a platter of food, the steam lazily drifting upwards and dissipating into the air
Johnny grabbed a glass from the set table and opened the fridge door. Grabbing the milk, he bumped the door closed with his hip and turned around, pouring as he went. He downed the frothy liquid in several gulps and poured himself another glass.
"Now I know why we're always low on milk when we come on shift," Dwyer joked, pointing an accusatory finger towards the dark haired man.
Johnny swallowed and grinned, setting down the half full second glass and replacing the carton in the fridge. "Not me, I always make sure to leave some!"
"Enough to feed a cat, maybe," he griped, swinging into a chair. John sat next to him, eagerly studying what looked like a roast in front of him. Mashed potatoes, rolls, and the carafe of coffee rounded off the supper.
"How long you gonna be here, Dwyer?" Chet asked, grabbing the long bladed knife and reaching towards the meat. Marco snatched the platter back from the stretching hands and waggled his fingers toward the knife.
"Gimme," he commanded, and Kelly surrendered it with an exaggerated sigh.
"Oh, he'll be here in probably another hour or so," the fill in replied easily, spooning sugar into his mug and then splashing in the caffeine laden brew. He handed the silver pot to Chet who repeated the process sans the sugar.
"What's DeSoto up to, anyways?" This came from Lopez, who was slicing the beef with practiced motions.
Gage waved the coffee pot away as it completed its circle; Mike Stoker set it down on the table. A pause and Johnny answered after dropping his now buttered roll down onto his plate. "He's chauffeuring the in-laws to the airport, after a lengthy lunch with the rest of the extended clan."
"Is the mother-in-law even speaking to him?" Chet questioned, gleaming eyes following the progress of the roast carving. The eyes shifted to Gage as he choked and sputtered; Dwyer thumped him on his blue clad back.
"What do you mean by that?" He gasped out, finally grabbing his milk and taking a careful, small sip.
"Oh come on, Johnny, we all saw you and Roy when you got back from the wedding call last shift. In fact, your lip is still swollen from that broad whacking you one."
The paramedic's hand went up to touch his lip, which was still a bit puffy even after the lengthy icing it had been given. He winced – it still hurt too, probably due to the small cut. He regarded Chet over the edge of the glass still held in his hand, wondering how he knew the details of that little fiasco. He SURE hadn't said anything about it; at work, Roy's lips would be sealed even tighter than his own.
"Yeah, well, I guess that's between him and his family," he finally answered, itching to ask where the nosy parker had gotten his information but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Besides, he needed all his strength for when Roy did come back on shift right after having to drive the nasty bat to the airport. Johnny was pretty sure that his generally easy going partner was going to be in a foul mood when he stomped through the door. He sincerely hoped he wasn't but had no clue as to how forgiving the family was.
"Lopez, where's the color green, or even orange on the table?" Hammer asked, checking out the contents of the table as he joined his crew at the table and sat down.
"Oh right, right, thanks for reminding me Cap!" Marco did a fast shuffle over to the oven, checked the temperature knob, and whipped open the door. He pulled out a cookie sheet covered in foil and used a spatula to help slide the contents off into the waiting plate on the counter.
"What are those things?" Johnny wondered out loud, staring curiously as the cook of the day added the plate to the other receptacles already being passed around the table.
"Oh come on Gage, you're saying you don't know what asparagus is?" Kelly's voice was laced with disbelief; he stabbed four of the green stalks, or at least tried to and almost lost the whole plate into his lap.
"Kelly!" Dick Hammer growled, snagging the tipping edge and balancing the veggies before they upended all over the freshly mopped floor.
"Errr, sorry about that," Kelly apologized, meekly setting the plate down and helping himself to two spears this time, and then another two. The plate continued around until it stopped in front the frowning medic.
"No, I don't know what asparagus is; why do you think I asked?" He asked sarcastically, staring doubtfully at the vegetables lying innocently in front of him. "What do they taste like?"
"For heaven's sake, just try it and see!" Chet exclaimed, cramming a whole spear into his mouth and chewing, rolling his eyes in exaggerated enjoyment and moaning.
"Mmmmmmm…good, that's what's they taste like," the curly headed lineman mumbled around his food, to the accompaniment of "gross Chet!" and snickers from the men.
Johnny gingerly plucked one from the plate and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "They remind me of that little dude, Twig?"
At the puzzled looks being directed at him, Gage emphatically waved the spear. "You know, on that commercial about the vegetables, with the big green guy…uh, the Jolly Green Giant guy, and his little sidekick, Twig?"
Marco laughed, trying not to spray his mouthful of food out, and put up a hand to protect his face from getting bonked by the asparagus wielding paramedic. "Sprout, Johnny, Sprout. My little nephews and nieces all love those new commercials with the little guy."
"Right, yeah, Sprout, that's his name….." he conceded, finally taking a tentative bite of the slightly mangled stalk. The men at the table appeared fascinated by this taste testing; they all watched him, their own forks posed above their abandoned food.
"Hey, that's not half bad!" He finally decided, swallowing it down and chasing it with a swallow of milk. He tipped the serving dish and scooped some more onto his plate. "What's on it?"
"Just a little olive oil, pepper, and parmesan cheese," the chef answered, beaming like a proud parent as Gage ate two more pieces in rapid succession.
The meal was quickly disposed of with bits pf conversation laced through it, and another pot of coffee started. The tones remained mercifully silent throughout and cleanup commenced in the same efficient, if not quite as happy, manner.
Hammer disappeared back into his office while the two paramedics headed for the dorm and the chores that still awaited them from that morning. Stoker meandered into the bay while Chet and Marco finished clearing the table. Dishes were rinsed, the table wiped clean, and water ran into the right basin of the double sink.
"You know, Marco…." Chet began in a conspiratorial voice.
"What's that, Chet?" Marco asked, his own tone laced with suspicion.
"If Johnny boy didn't know what asparagus is, that also means….."
"Means what?" Impatience was now strong in the older man's actions, as he grabbed the glass out of his friend's hand and slid it into the soapy, water filled sink.
"He is not gonna know what the end results are….." Now the voice was filled with glee and an evil chuckle sprang from Chet's lips. Marco stared at him, the clean and dripping glass now hanging suspended from his hand. Chet snatched it and dried it with an exaggerated flourish.
"What does that…oh, oh I get you now!" Lopez plunged his hands into the water, groping for the next dirty item; finding nothing, he removed a hand and picked up another glass, regarding Chet thoughtfully. "Do you think we should tell him?"
Kelly shook his head. "Nah, he's a paramedic, he'll figure it out."
Marco nonchalantly shrugged and resumed his furious assault on the dirty dishes; once they got into their easy rhythm, they made short work of the task and settled comfortably on chairs to watch television.
~eeeEEEeee~
Roy strolled into the side door of the station, whistling an unusually good rendition of "I Feel the Earth Move under My Feet" by Carole King, and already attired in his uniform. Marco raised his eyebrows and looked at Chet.
"He doesn't sound too unhappy," he hissed, with lips barely moving. Chet responded with an upward roll of his eyes and turned slightly in his chair so that he could watch the paramedic's movements.
DeSoto, oblivious to the watching eyes, tested the coffee pot on the stove and snagged a mug out of the cupboard. He poured the steaming liquid in, replaced the pot on its warming burner, and turned around. He leaned back against the counter, shoved his left hand into his pocket, and casually sipped at the fresh brew. His eyes swept the room in a slow, mildly curious arc, before coming back to settle on the attentive linemen.
"Hey guys!" He cheerily called out, grinning and lifting his cup in a hello. "Where's Dwyer at?"
"He's making the beds like a good little medic," Chet groused, earning a curious look from the present medic. Marco couldn't help but wonder if his friend had a bet going with someone about the mood DeSoto was going to be in when he arrived for work. It sure wasn't him!
"Ok then, I'll go let him know I'm here."
Roy set his coffee down on the table and ambled leisurely out of the room, thumbs hooked through his front belt loops. If you gave him a gun belt and some boots he'd be ready for a showdown out in the middle of a dusty, wide street, Marco mused as he watched him leave. He looked back over at Chet, who was slouched down in his chair and staring vacantly at a commercial rolling across the black and white screen.
"So give, who did you make a bet with concerning DeSoto?"
Kelly snorted and assumed an innocent expression. "Me? Why would think that? Betting on someone's misery, what kind of guy do you think I am?"
Lopez shook his head in disbelief. "Rightttttttttt, and I think you protest a little bit too much!"
"Babe, you got me all wrong! How long have we known each other?" Kelly's voice was rising with each protesting word, and Marco glared at him, trying to stare him into quiet. That's all they needed - Hammer to come stalking in to see what all the excitement was about. Then Chet's goose would be cooked for sure, because somehow Lopez had a very strong feeling that their captain wouldn't condone station house betting, especially on other firemen; he didn't appear to have much of a sense of humor either. Hard to say with him, though, because he was pretty sure he had witnessed a smile crossing their leader's face when Gage had his hands up that girl's skirt on that vehicle accident several shifts ago.
"It's obviously much too long because I know you're not exactly telling me the truth!" He whispered, trying to get the hint across about the volume. Chet glared back but he was smiling.
"Look Marco, it was just a friendly little wager with…well, I'm just not saying since you seem to have your shorts bunched up in a wad….." he commented in a lowered voice. He leisurely laced his hands together, and laid them across his stomach.
Lopez shook his head and returned his attention to the program that was just starting.
~eeeEEEeee~
"Thanks again, really appreciate you staying over and covering for me," Roy said enthusiastically, clapping a hand on the other paramedic's shoulder with an equal exuberance. Dwyer winced and shrugged away from the friendly hand.
"No problem, DeSoto. So how did things go with your, ah, in-laws?"
"Oh, just fine, just fine," Roy responded, rubbing his hands together briskly, reminding the other man of an excited schoolboy.
Grinning, Dwyer pushed the pile of dirty bedding into the other's arms, which effectively stopped the hand motions. "See you later then!"
He exited the room via the door that led to the lockers and Roy heard him call out to Johnny on his way into the apparatus bay. A moment later Gage came into the room, a strange look on his face.
"Hey Roy, glad to see you made it," he said, but his voice didn't match his welcoming words. He dropped onto the end of the nearest bed and rubbed his face, ran a hand through his hair, and absently scrubbed at a finger. Roy stared at his obviously distracted and worried partner and deposited the mound of clothing he was still clutching onto the floor. He sat down on the bed next to John.
"Yeah, it went really well, I'll tell you about it in a little bit. But first, what's bugging you?"
Johnny squirmed a bit and finally looked up and in the general direction of Roy, but couldn't seem to meet his eyes. "Well, look, it's kind of embarrassing, weird maybe, but I just took a…"
His words were cut off by the klaxons calling the squad out to a response. The men jumped to their feet and walked briskly to their truck, Johnny almost running into DeSoto's back as he too headed for the driver's side. He whirled around, trotted between the vehicles, and jumped into the passenger side. They roared out of the garage and headed for the man down call.
~eeeEEEeee~
Less than an hour later they were on their way to Rampart, Roy riding in the ambulance with their victim, and Gage following in the squad. Once the man was safely in the hands of Dr. Morton, the older paramedic joined John at the supply station currently being manned by Dixie McCall. He snagged his counterpart by the arm.
"So what's the problem?" He queried, ignoring the murderous look tossed his way when the question caught Dixie's interest and she raised her head from perusing a patient's chart.
Johnny was turning a deep shade of red; he slapped a hand down on the counter nearly upsetting the coffee cup that was perched there. "I'm sure it's nothing, okay? Let's go Roy…."
He shrugged off the hand that was still on his arm, whirled, and took a giant step towards freedom; it was Dixie who stopped him in his tracks with the worry in her voice.
"Johnny? What's wrong?"
He turned slowly around, his eyes darting anxiously between the two people. He stepped back up to the desk and leaned in, which instinctively caused the nurse and the paramedic to huddle in also, so that the three heads were scant inches apart.
"Umm, it's just too embarrassing to talk about," he explained in a near whisper. He drew back, looking like he was on the edge of bolting once again; Dixie stopped the frantic movement with her hand, laying it on the young man's jacket clad arm.
"It's obviously something, otherwise you wouldn't be so uptight," she explained patiently and glanced over at Roy. "Isn't that right, Roy?"
"Yeah, come on John, you really are worrying about something. You're with friends here…what could be so embarrassing that you can't tell us?"
"Like I said, it's nothing." The nervous shifting of his feet were telling a different story, however; Roy gave a nod of understanding to the nurse and waved a hand in front of his partner's face to get his attention.
"Johhhhnnnnyyy," he said, purposely dragging out the name. "If you don't spill it, I'm going to go find Dr. Brackett and explain the situation. And you know as well as I do that he can, and will, pull you off duty if he thinks that it's warranted."
"Fine," Johnny hissed, throwing up his hands in surrender as possible humiliation quickly dissolved when compared to the thought of having Brackett corner him in an exam room. "But you, only you!"
Roy shrugged in indifference, smiled at Dixie as she rolled her eyes, and followed Gage down the hall. He gave a quick nod of hello to the passing Joe Early and wondered how much of that quiet conversation he had just heard. Probably hadn't heard much, at least not the near whispers that had floated out of Gage.
He thought they were headed for the privacy of the squad when the younger man stopped abruptly, spun around on his heel, and jerked a thumb towards the men's room they had just passed.
"I need to use the facilities first," he muttered, brushing past DeSoto. "Just to make sure…"
"What?" Roy asked, not sure if he had heard that last part correctly. "Make sure of what?"
But his colleague had already disappeared; Roy was concerned about him but not quite enough to follow him beyond the door. He waited, back against the wall and hands shoved into his pockets, trying to sort out what the problem could be. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Dr. Early. The distinguished doctor had apparently headed for the charms of Dixie McCall and the bracing lure of the coffee pot. He turned his head more to observe the pair better when the nurse's hands started making motions in the air, and one of those gestures included a finger pointing in his direction.
"Uh oh, John's not going to like this," Roy observed out loud. He made a rude noise when Mike Morton joined the duo and more hand waving commenced. Both doctors took a look in his direction, talked a moment longer, and then began a brisk walk towards him with Dixie right behind them.
"Hello Roy," Joe said amiably, glancing down the hall and then back at the paramedic. "Dix says that Johnny is worried about something."
"I suppose so," Roy admitted reluctantly. "He's in there, making sure of whatever it is….."
"He's in there?" Morton bellowed, his voice deepening in disbelief. Dr. Early threw out a hand to detain him when it looked like he was ready to fly through the door after the missing medic.
"Mike!" he admonished, giving him a fierce glare from under his eyebrows. Morton drew in a deep breath and stepped back.
"You're right, sorry, I overreacted. There's no way he's doing THAT in there…." he murmured, shaking his head. "Gage seems a bit out there, but not…"
"What?" Roy interrupted rudely, staring at the hospital personnel gathered around him like vultures around carrion. "What are you talking about?"
"It seems obvious, Roy, by the clues your partner is tossing about. He's obviously embarrassed about something of a very personal nature, won't talk about it in front of a lady, and disappeared into the bathroom after telling you he needs to confirm the problem…." Mike's voice was condescending, and DeSoto folded his arms to keep himself from punching the man. He now completely understood the scathing remark Johnny had made several weeks ago about the intern's attitude.
The door swung open and the subject of their discussion took a hesitant step forward. He looked curiously at the group blocking the door and his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as he immediately understood why they were gathered there. He took a giant step back into the safety of the bathroom; Roy bolted in after him.
"Party going on out there?" Gage inquired sarcastically, giving his partner the evil eye.
"Look, I didn't have anything to do with that, and besides, if you would tell us what's wrong there wouldn't be all this guessing going on."
"What do you mean, guessing? Who's guessing what?"
"Uh…" Roy paused, sucking in his lower lip and worrying it between his teeth. "It's completely ridiculous, but Morton thinks you're having, um, intimacy problems?"
"Intimacy problems?" Johnny squeaked out. "As in, like, impotent? Me?"
He whirled around and braced himself against the sink with his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. DeSoto moved forward a cautious step and was glad that he did when the door opened behind him and missed him by an inch. Dr. Early inserted himself through the opening just in time to hear the howl of laughter that erupted from the younger paramedic.
"Oh man, can you imagine that? For crying out loud, I still get zits like a teenager, and the hormones that…..Roy!" Gage's voice shot up an octave and he spun around, eyes widening in horror as he grabbed his partner by the shirt. "You didn't tell that group of vultures out there that I was in here checking out my uh, problem, did you?"
DeSoto swallowed hard and felt the heat rising up his neck. "Ah well, I did kinda imply….."
"Oh my God, can this get any worse," Johnny groaned, releasing his grip and smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. A flushing toilet seemed to be his reply; three heads turned in unison to the closed door of the single stall that was slowly opening. A louder groan accompanied by a heartfelt obscenity escaped the medic as Dr. Kelly Brackett appeared and strolled nonchalantly to the sink. He scrubbed his hands thoroughly and dried them with a paper towel before turning to look at Gage, who had retreated to the tiny space of bare wall next to the exit. Joe was effectively blocking the door with his body, keeping the medic pinned inside while also preventing anyone from entering.
"What's the problem, John?" Brackett asked sternly, crossing his arms and daring the young man to answer "nothing".
Johnny glanced at Roy, took in the slight shake of his partner's head, and bit back the retort that was about to fly from his lips. He sighed. "Look, it's just that when I pee, it smells weird."
There was a few seconds of silence as the men contemplated his words. Dr. Early looked down at the rings on his finger, twisted the gold bands, and then looked back up. "There could be a number of reasons for that, John, like a change in medications, stress, new foods….."
Johnny threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. "No, no new meds or vitamins or anything like that…..no more stress than usual, and as for food, well, let's see….coffee, toast and eggs for breakfast…..and roast beef, rolls, milk, mashed potatoes for lunch…"
"That's it? Nothing else?" Kelly inquired, relaxing his stance somewhat as he realized the effect he was having on the obviously embarrassed man.
"Wait, I had some of those green things too, weird looking stalks like that commercial on television?"
Early shrugged and shot a questioning look at Roy, who in turn looked at his partner. "I don't know, I wasn't at the station during lunch, and I don't watch television all that much…green beans, celery, broccoli, peas…."
"Asparagus…" the head of the ER guessed, snapping his fingers and then rudely pointing one of the digits at Gage. "It was asparagus, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that's it, asparagus! Pretty good stuff….." he trailed off as he gazed at the medical personnel, the wrinkle of worry across his forehead smoothing out. "So that's it, that's what causing the funny smell?"
"It is indeed, John," Dr. Early replied, his lips curved in a tiny smile that he didn't bother to hide. "It's the acids in that vegetable breaking down in your body and is completely normal."
"Wow, that's pretty far out, a funky vegetable doing stuff like that. I thought something was really wrong with me." The relief was strong in his voice as Johnny moved away from the wall and rubbed his hands briskly together, waiting for the other men to move out of the room. They filed out, grins in place.
The doctors split away from the paramedics and sauntered down the hall back towards the supply station, where Dixie had once again taken up residence on her stool. Morton was leaning on the counter, bowed head resting on a propped hand and looking thoroughly chastened as he listened to something she was saying.
Roy glanced at Gage to see if he had noticed the intern's subdued posture; he found instead that his partner was studying him with interest.
"What?" He asked, a bit annoyed at the obvious scrutiny.
Johnny gave a little shake of his head as they walked through the automatic doors and stopped by the side of their truck. "I was wondering how you managed to stay in one piece after spending half the day with your piranha mother-in-law. And to top it off, you're in a good mood?"
"Oh, that," DeSoto replied with a smile, thinking of his wonderful, brilliant wife and how she should be some kind of diplomatic liaison for the government, or something like that. She was that good; he had witnessed that firsthand this morning. He circled around the front of the squad and leaned through the open window to smirk at his partner. "Well, maybe someday when you're old enough, Junior, I'll tell you all about it."
Johnny's mouth dropped open in astonishment as he processed Roy's words; Roy grinned even wider as he dropped into the seat and started the truck, revving the engine to break up the frozen state his partner was in. "Let's go partner, I hear some leftovers calling my name, especially that asparagus!"
A/N: yes, that's pretty much a true story involving the asparagus – I was about the same age when I ate it for the first time and experienced the end results – luckily I didn't have time to freak out about the funky vegetable as my friend and coworker made an offhand comment about it and solved my unasked questions. In my strange little mind, the experience just sounded like something Johnny would freak out about. "Twig" is also my name for that little fellow Sprout that used to be on the commercials with the Jolly Green Giant.