Better call the doctor

by Clavyus

This is a slow burn AU Brucas fic. Lucas is a thirty two year old surgeon, smart, kind and serious. Brooke is a nineteen year old party girl, who's never been in love. She doesn't understand what's happening when she can't stop thinking about the odd doctor from the apartment above. He thinks she is just a kid, out to have some fun.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Tarrytown training facility is a sprawling set of low, nondescript buildings, housing the training center for three professional sports teams, the Knicks, Liberty, a woman's NBA team and the Rangers hockey team. Even inside, the place has the industrial, rough feel of a place where very serious stuff happens. I'm escorted to the Medical Staff office suite, and introduce myself to the admin assistant, a competent looking heavyset woman in her fifties, with hair dyed blonde.

"Good morning. I'm Lucas Scott, and I have a meeting with Dr. Phillips."

"Oh, yes. Dr. Scott. I'm Adele. I was told to get you settled. We've set aside an office for you here."

She gets up and walks me to a corridor. The last door on the right has a small blue plaque. "Dr. Lucas Scott, Sports medicine and surgery" She opens the door and hands me the key. Inside, a windowless space, about fifteen by fifteen feet, with a desk, a chair and an empty bookcase against a wall.

"You can request any furniture you like for your office."

"Thanks."

She hands me a fat envelope. "Here you have an Id card and a bunch of paperwork. I understand you are supposed to have a company car and a team credit card, but we will see about those later. Someone from personnel will come to walk you through the paperwork and someone from IT will set you up with a computer, touchpad and a company phone. You're supposed to tell me when you're done, so I can inform Dr. Phillips. There's pens and writing pads in the center drawer of your desk. Any questions?"

"Not at this time."

Dr. Raymond Phillips is a black man in his sixties, six foot five and built like a linebacker, salt-and-pepper hair cut to a stubble and a deep, booming voice. He is the head of the Medical Department for the Knicks, but also a vice president for the corporation that owns the three sports franchises that train in this facility. This means he is mostly a money and paper man, not a physician. I hear his laughter before he shows up at the open door of my office. "Hello, Lucas. It's good to see you again. I'd like you to meet Dr. Lauren Fisher, team orthopedist."

I shake her hand. She is a tall, angular blonde with deepset blue eyes and a dry, firm handshake. "Hello, Dr. Fisher, nice to meet you."

"Please call me Lauren." Her voice is a pleasant baritone. "Ray asked me to show you around, introduce you to the medical and the coaching staff. But, before that, we should discuss exactly what the team is expecting from you. We'll use a meeting room. And bring paper and a pen."

During the next hour, Lauren and Ray discuss in detail what is expected of me. Primarily, advise the athletes and the team on surgical procedures. Make sure that the most qualified surgeon is the one operating on valuable team athletes. Accompany procedures and supervise recovery. Advise on physical preparation and performance. Help evaluate potential new hires. I'm supposed to know the detailed medical history and the playing style of each member of the team. We discuss the best way of accomplishing these goals. For now, I'll spend three mornings per week here, familiarizing myself with the athletes and their training, getting to know the staff and the training regimen used and taking part on the weekly medical staff meetings. Finally, Lauren gives me a tour of the facilities and introduces me to the athletes and coaching staff during practice.

"So you're coming back tomorrow?"

"I'll be here tomorrow at eight. If you could give me access to the athlete's medical records, I would start with that."

"See you tomorrow, then. Bye"

Team cars are all large white sedans with the team logo painted at the side. I choose a newish GM, which still smells of sweat and cigarettes, and drive away. I send Callie a text, saying that I'll be arriving at three, and she writes back, telling me to go straight to OR 3 to assist in the foot amputation, and then look for her at the prosthesis lab to discuss the plan for the crushed pelvis.

When I get to the lab, Callie is right in the middle of assembling part of the mesh. It's exacting work, with tiny parts, so I stand in the doorway, just watching. After about twenty minutes she breathes in, and steps back, finally noticing me there. "Hey, Lucas."

"Boss."

She smiles. "How was the amputation?"

"It went well. The resident, Dr. Hua, got a little antsie at the middle, tying the arteries, but, with a little coaxing, it came out all right. Is he going into ortho?"

"No, thank goodness. He is just doing a rotation. There's a couple of residents that look like they might go into Ortho. I'll get them both to assist you at some procedure later. I'm opening up Mr. Contreras tomorrow for the first phase of his pelvis reconstruction. Two o'clock ok?"

"I'll be here." We get into a technical discussion of the procedures, in which I mostly listen. My own main area of expertise is motion, how the decisions of where you do the repairs, and how you attach the prosthesis will impact specific range and ease of motion. I make a couple of suggestions that might improve Mr. Contreras ability to climb over obstacles and pivot on one leg.

"So, how was the date yesterday?"

"It was fun. Just some kissing, mind you. There won't be a second one."

"Why? Boring?"

"No, she was pretty cool. It's just how they react to the word "doctor". All of a sudden everything turns serious."

"And all you want is some harmless fun."

"It's all I can handle. I'll get back to serious some other time."

I can see her eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, no!"

"What? I haven't said anything."

"Please, don't set me up. I can find my own dates."

"Oh, come on! Can't a girl have some vicarious fun? I've been married too long."

I sigh. At least I can trust a smart lesbian to have good taste in women. "All right, Boss. Who do you have in mind?"

"There's this ER attending... she's recently divorced, and drop dead gorgeous."

"Fun?"

"Quiet and sarcastic. I get the sneaky feeling she's a firecracker in bed."

"All right. I guess I have nothing to lose."

My head is pounding like I have a road crew doing maintenance behind my eyes. The previous night comes slowly into focus, the beach, drinks, dancing, a sweet looking surfer boy... I'm not alone in bed. I get up slowly. Search about for some clothes. I find my black bikini bottom and a large surfer t-shirt, which, I presume, belongs to the cute blonde softly snoring in front of me. I look around, family pictures, blonde boy smiling between two blonde girls. I check the wastebasket and relax a bit, when I see two freshly used condoms at the bottom. I have to stop doing this to myself. It's not the boy. I remember him from last night, sweet and sexy. What annoys me, more than the headache, is that I can't remember the after-party fun.

I get out of the bedroom, into a corridor with a few closed doors. The next one along the wall is a closet, then an unused bedroom, then a bathroom. Bingo. I get in, do my stuff, hunt the cabinets and find a bottle of advil. I swallow two with tap water, brush my teeth with a bit of toothpaste and a finger, use mouthwash, and I look myself in the mirror. Hair is everywhere, so I brush my fingers along it, to give it some semblance of order, and tie it in a lover's knot. I wash my face, and I'm ready to face what comes next. I find my flip-flops on the corridor, which ends in the landing of a broad staircase. I pad down, find my shorts near the bottom of the stairs, and, thank goodness, my beach bag at a sofa. As I pick up my bag, the older blonde from the picture emerges from somewhere, looking chipper. "Hi, I'm Lucy. Matt's mother."

I squint at her. "Brooke." Her thin voice feels like ice-picks in my frontal lobe. At least now I know the dude's name.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Brooke?"

"Sure." I follow her to the kitchen. She picks up a mug and looks at me. "Black, three sugars, please."

I'm halfway through the mug, and beginning to feel human when she speaks again. "You from around here?" I remember walking from the beach party, so I didn't go far.

"Just graduated from Palisades. Going to college in a few weeks."

"How do you know Matt?"

"Met him last night. Beach party. Sweet boy."

She smiles fondly. "That he is."

"I left my car at the beach parking lot at the end of Cedar."

"Turn left when leaving the house, walk three hundred yards. You'll see it."

"Please, thank Matt for the t-shirt. And thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome, dear. Take care."

"You too." As far as walks of shame go, I've been through worse. The mother seemed pretty cool.

Car was where I left it. Day is definitely looking up. Drive to Starbucks, grab a blueberry muffin, a banana and an iced mocha. The advils are kicking in, and soon the carbs are doing their magic too. I'm going to spend a couple of hours in the gym this afternoon. School is out, and with it, daily cheer practice. Gotta keep the goods in shape. I drive home. Home is a large glass, steel and pale wood pile, which was once featured in Architectural Digest. I live alone. Cleaning crew comes once a week, I do laundry and whatever little cooking my meager skills allow. I haven't seen the parentals in six months, and I haven't spoken with them in two. My sole contact with them is the black Amex, which, by the way, is going to expire in a month. I don't expect to get a new one. I check the mail, and, aside from the usual junk, there's a thick, official looking envelope from Victoria's Secret, addressed formally to me. I'm curious, but I decide to get my act together before satisfying my curiosity. I take a stinging hot shower, dissipating the last vestiges of my hangover, brush my teeth and my hair.

I look in the mirror. Soft skin tanned slightly golden, long brown waves to the middle of my back, full perky breasts with large pink aureoles, tight abs, long shapely legs, a fine ass and just the suggestion of firm muscle everywhere. At five foot five, I'm too short and too well-nourished for a fashion model, but I can certainly give any centerfold a run for her money. I put on red lacy underwear, half cup, strapless push-ups and matching thongs. Over it, a light yellow summer dress, fitted at the waist and flaring out, stopping a couple of inches above my knees and showing a bit of cleavage. The color only works for me with the summer tan, but when it works, it looks very nice. Finally, white three-inch wedges and hoop earrings complete the ensemble. Who am I trying to impress? Nobody. I just enjoy looking good.

I open the envelope. "Dear Miss Davis, I'm pleased to offer you one of our internships..." I scan the whole document. Legalese, bla, bla, bla... I have a week to accept. New York... Damn. Someone has a lot of explaining to do.

The front door is open, so I climb the stairs and go straight to her bedroom. And there she is. Naked, and all tangled with David Clifford. David is a linebacker, sweet, large as a door and dumb as a rock. He's going to South Dakota on a football scholarship, and, if injury and stupidity doesn't catch up with him first, an early pick for the NFL. I open the curtains, letting the midday sun into the room and speak loudly. "Hey! Skank. Mountain. Up, up, up. Get decent." I point a finger to the half awake redhead. "I need a word with you. Pronto! I'll be downstairs. Don't make me come back here and drag you down by those sorry-ass fake boobs of yours."

"I'd love to see you try, bitch. Why don't you go Brooke yourself, and let regular folk sleep in peace, you little whore?"

"I love you too, slut. Get. Right. Down." David is just waking up, looking lost. I blow him a kiss. "Good morning, Mountain."

"Oh, good morning, Brookie." He smiles. "Good to see you."

I busy myself making coffee, scrambling eggs and making toast while I wait. When they get down I place a mug and a plate in front of them and let them eat.

"Thank you for breakfast, Brookie. I'm going."

I give him a kiss in the cheek, and he gives Rachel a peck in the lips. "Bye, Red. I'll call you."

"Bye, gorgeous."

She turns to face me. "So?"

"Mountain? Again? What are you doing?"

She makes a grimace. "He's like comfort food, slut. Hung like a horse, likes to please, and I don't have to talk to him, before or after."

"He is falling for you, you cunt! You're gonna break the heart of one of the very few sweet, decent fellows in out class. With a long list of cast iron creeps for you to play with, you choose him?. I hate you, slut."

"I'm going to let him down easy, with his heart just a bit broken. I can guarantee that the next bitch that comes along will be much rougher. And maybe he'll have learned to protect himself a bit."

"All right, Miss Gattina, life coach extraordinaire. I came here for this." I slap the envelope at the counter. "What did you do?"

She opens the envelope and starts reading. Then she squeals and hugs me. "It worked! It worked! I knew it would."

"What did you do?"

"I have an acquaintance, a photographer, who works for Victoria's Secret. He saw me using one of your dresses, that red one, with the empire waist, and asked me where it was from. When I told him I had this friend, who made coutoure dresses for her classmates, he told me about these internships at Victoria's Secret design department. I made a little book, out of some of the stuff you've made and I sent it, together with an application for the internship in your name."

"Hmpf."

"You're welcome?"

"You should have told me."

"And you would have told me not to do it. Brooke, it's a job. Twenty hours per week, thirty eight a year, a two year contract, renewable for another two. And it's in New York. And you don't know the best part yet."

"What?"

"I'll be coming with you."

I scream. "What?"

"Yes. Last week I got an offer to join a big modeling agency in New York. We can share a decent place, and keep enough money for pretty dresses and shoes."

She is right. I was worried how I was going to support myself in New York with just my trust fund stipend. This is a dream job, and it will add enough money to the pot that I don't have to worry about my expiring Amex. "All right, slut. Good job. Thank you. This is going to be fun."

"So, do you think your little credit line will cover two round trip, first class tickets to the Big Apple?"

"What?"

"We're going apartment hunting, whore."

"Ah! Right. Good thinking. Yes. Go ahead and purchase the tickets."

"Lauren?"

"Oh, Hi Lucas. What is it?"

"I finished reviewing the players files. I've also looked at player performance statistics, and I have one point of concern. Leroy Markham. I want to request an MRI of his left forearm and hand."

"You noticed the loss in performance six months ago."

"Yes. I suspect small lesions in the wrist tendons may be causing weakness in the hand and wrist. Depending on what we see at the MRI, the problem may be fixable with a simple microsurgery."

"Would he be recovered in time for the season?"

"If what I suspect actually pans out, he might be back to his old performance in a month."

"All right, I'll send him to the hospital Monday afternoon. Will you be there?"

"Sure. Can I access his files from the hospital?"

"No. We need to set up secure external access to our medical files. I'll send an IT guy to the hospital with Markham on Monday to set it up."

"All right. I'll be here Monday morning."

Their home is about ten blocks from the hospital, in a very nice building facing the park. Either Callie or her girl have some family money. "Lucas Scott, for Callie Torres."

"You may go up. Apartment 11-B"

I knock on the door. A pretty redhead opens the door. "You're Lucas Scott. Nice to meet you. I'm Penelope Blake, but everybody calls me Penny."

"Lucas, pretty Penny."

She blushes. "She told me you were flirty."

"Hope I don't offend."

"Not at all. Just keep it up. She likes you a lot."

"I've gotten pretty fond of her too. She is the best part of the new job."

A little girl runs towards Penny. "Penny, Penny. Who's at the door...Oh!"

I squat in front of her. "You must be Sofia."

"My name is Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres, and I'm six!"

"That's a beautiful name Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres. I brought you a gift."

"A gift? Can I see?"

"Oh, yes. Here it is."

She pouts. "But this is a bottle!"

"It is? Oh, yes it is! I made a mistake Princess Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres. The bottle is not your gift. This is your gift."

She squeals "It's a tiara!"

"That's right. A Princess Tiara, for Princess Sofia. Do you like it?"

"I love it." She frowns. "What's your name?"

"I'm Lucas Eugene Crazy Horse Scott."

She giggles. "You're not Crazy Horse."

"You're right. I'm not Crazy Horse. You're a very smart little girl. And you can call me Lucas."

"Thank you Lucas! I love my tiara."

"I'm glad you do."

"She runs ahead yelling "Mommy, mommy. Lucas gave me a tiara..."

I get back up. "She's a doll."

"That she is. Come in. Callie and Allie are already here."

"Callie and Allie?"

Penny giggles. "I know."

We were standing in a hallway, which opens to a grand room, with a nice open plan kitchen, living room, dining room and a breakfast corner. The decor is modern chic, with Scandinavian furniture, surprisingly masculine in taste and feel. To break the somewhat stark feel of the room, there's girl toys everywhere. Callie and my "date" are sitting in the breakfast nook, sipping wine and talking in low tones.

Callie greets me with huge smile. "Hey, Lucas. Welcome. This is Allison." I kiss Callie's cheek and shake Allison's hand. My first impression is of a very pretty woman, late thirties, small boned, sharp features, poised and self-contained. She is a fair skinned brunette, short, shoulder length hair, beautifully arched eyebrows over large blue eyes shining with amusement and a very subtle smile. She is wearing tight black jeans and a white button down shirt with sleeves rolled and a couple of buttons undone. Small breasts and a very nice set of curves. She uses little make up, artfully applied, along with with unpainted nails cut short. The handshake is dry and firm.

She returns my examination with the same interest, and seems to approve what she sees. I'm wearing tan slacks, a dark blue polo shirt and black leather shoes. "Allie. Nice to meet you Lucas."

Penny comes with two wine glasses and serves us, and we sit down to chat. Sofia is nowhere to be seen. Penny explains. "I set Sofia in her room with some episodes of Dora the Explorer. She should be entertained for a while."

"She is beautiful, Callie. Congratulations."

"I hear you already made a friend. Good choice with the tiara."

"I have a fifteen year old sister. I know about little girls."

Callie laughs. "From what I've seen, you know about big girls too."

I exchange a quick glance with Allison, and I see her amusement deepens.

"You know it, Boss."

She giggles. "Oh, quit it with the "boss" thing, Lucas. By the way, amazing work with the crushed pelvis."

Before I could complain, Callie explains the condition of our patient, our plan and the five hour surgery we performed yesterday, with high praise for my small contributions. "It's your work Callie. You were amazing. I've never learned so much in such a short span of time."

Penny laughs. "The way she's been going on about you, and seeing now you two together, I confess Im jealous."

"It's only been a week, but it feels that we've been working together for ages. I never really had a mentor or a working partner, except for Derek Shepard for a while. And Lucas brings something to the table I had never seen. He really understands the physiology of motion."

"That's useful for treating high performance athletes. It's not about saving their lives. It's about keeping their edge."

Allie takes part on the conversation for the first time. "That's an unusually commercial concern for a physician."

"Well, it's life-and-death serious for a professional athlete."

"I didn't mean to put it down. Just that it is an unusual emphasis in patient care."

"That I completely agree with you."

There's a ping from the kitchen, and dinner is served. Salad, two different kinds of lasagna and strawberries with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Sofia joins us, and we stop talking about medicine.

"I know Callie grew up in Florida, and I grew up in North Carolina. Where did you two grow up?"

"I grew up in Pullman, Washington, right next to Montana."

"So, you're a Cougars fan?"

Penny answers with a soft voince. "I was a cheerleader for the Cougars."

Callie laughs. "You were? Do you have any pictures. I have to see this, girl."

Penny becomes bright red, and we all laugh. "What's a cheerlead, mommy?"

"They stand on the side of a game and try to encourage their team by singing and dancing."

"They also try to distract the opposing team by looking too cute." I add.

"Can I be a cheerlead?"

"Sure, sweety."

Penny asks Callie. "Was Arizona a cheerleader? She certainly looks the type."

"I have no idea, although I'd be surprised. She's always known she was into girls, and that doesn't fit with the cheerleading thing. You, on the other hand, don't fit the type at all."

"I was different before I realized I actually liked girls. I kept desperately trying one boy after another, trying to find one that would fit. That went with the cheerleading type just fine."

"What about you, Allie?"

"I grew up near Chicago. Total bookworm. I like watching basketball, though."

"I can't believe the boys would leave you alone, looking like you do."

"Well... High school kids pay attention to certain qualities," she looks at her own chest, "that were never very prominent."

"They look lovely, from where I'm sitting."

"From here too," adds Callie.

"Oh, they do look nice. And, at some point during junior year in college, boys begun to realize it too. From then on, I never really lacked attention."

After dessert, Callie goes tuck Sofia, and we stay, looking at the park and the city lights from their window.

"So, I presume Arizona is Robbins, in Sofia's name."

"That's right. Callie and Arizona were married when Callie had Sofia."

"Some kind of sperm donor deal?"

"No. It's complicated. Get Callie drunk and she will tell you. Arizona is a good parent, but a royal, cast iron bitch of a partner. Callie's heart is still recovering."

Allison turns to Penny. "You two look really good together."

"Thanks. We're very good to each other, I think. I need her exuberance, her joy, and she needs the steadiness I give her. We both miss Seattle, but I think we're much better off here." She looks at me. "Even better now, that she found someone she truly enjoys working with."

"Thanks."

Callie comes back, and Allie and I exchange a glance. "I think we'd better leave."

Allie puts a hand in my arm and asks me. "Would you walk me home? It's about ten blocks."

"It would be a pleasure."

Callie and Penny share a little smile.

"Thanks for dinner, guys. And just so you know, I'm more than happy to babysit Sofia if you need it, or you just want time for some some, what, Cannie? Pellie? Pallie?"

Callie and Penny look embarrassed and Allie giggles. Lovely sound, too. "Definitely Pellie."

"We'll probably take you up on that. Soon."

"All right, guys. Bye."

AN: After I wrote this chapter I realized an irony in this crossover. Hilarie Burton (Peyton) played the skanky doctor Lauren Boswell that broke up Callie and Arizona. I'm not going to twist things around to make Peyton a lesbian craniofacial surgeon in this fic, but... Also, I was planning to have a nice Lucas and Allie sex scene still in this chapter, but this is getting too long. Brucas fans, not to worry. Allie is Allison Cameron, and her heart still belongs to a jackass called Gregory House, who will make a little appearance later in the game.