So, some news that may affect avid readers of this story. My computer had to go the doctor, who is not nearly as capable as Doctor Mitchell, so I will be borrowing for the next few weeks, which may alter my update schedule a tad. Hopefully, it'll be fixed soon, but until then I don't want your sass.
- Three -
Logan had to admit that his mind was elsewhere as he treated the college student who had taking binge drinking to an extreme, and was currently having his stomach pumped to prevent alcohol poisoning. One of his buddies was sleeping off his own indulgence in the waiting room, making inhuman sounds that scared some of the meeker patients.
This guy deserved to be here. He deserved the awful feeling of waking up after having to regurgitate your own stupidity. He deserved the hospital gown that left his ass exposed to the public, including his friend who had been just coherent enough to take a picture. And he also deserved the awkward explanation he'd have to give his parents when they saw the charge to their health insurance.
The kid down that hall did not. He'd done everything right. He'd stayed low to the ground, trying to crawl his way out of the basement apartment, and when overwhelmed, he covered his face to protect his eyes. His circumstances were out of his control, and he deserved Logan's attention, whereas this guy deserved a swift kick in the ass.
After being sure the guy would be fine, he left a resident to supervise, before doing what he had for the last few nights, creeping down to check on Charlie, who was still stable. The problem with being stable was that he also wasn't progressing, and if anything, there was still concern his legs would get infected.
He picked up the clipboard to read the boy's chart, though by now he had it memorized, before replacing it on the hook at the foot of his bed and doing something he did from time to time. He tiptoed over to the side of the bed and took the seat usually reserved for close friends and relatives, neither of which Charlie had. The young doctor insisted on spending time near him, knowing that it was possible to sense the presence of someone else while in a coma, and that apart from his nurses there was nobody to hold his hand and tell him he was going to be alright, whether he could hear it or not.
His hand was light, even with innumerable layers of bandages wrapping the blistered tissue, and Logan held it gingerly, knowing that pressing too hard could hurt him, even with morphine dripping into his body constantly. He took a deep breath, trying hard not to cry as he stared at the only exposed feature of the boy, who resembled a mummy at this stage in his treatment.
An examination of his pupils had revealed a pair of glossy hazel eyes, which were now closed in medicated slumber. Though his scalp was singed, there were traces of dark hair, which had once been long, but had been shaved to help him heal. Across his tan cheeks there was a spattering of tiny freckles, and Logan could only imagine the way he must have looked when he smiled, and vowed that he would soon make it reality.
Some nights he spoke to the kid, just the weather and how he was doing, and how Logan honestly believed that he would get better. Tonight, he wasn't up to convincing both of them that this much was true, and instead checked to make sure they were alone before quietly singing the chorus to a song that reminded him so much of Charlie, "Give em hell, turn their heads, gonna live life 'til we're dead. Give me scars, give me pain, then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me, there goes the fighter, there goes the fighter…here comes the fighter, that's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me, this one's a fighter."
"You've got quite the voice," he heard from behind him, and he turned to see a tall figure in the doorway, usual smirk subdued as he came toward the bed.
Logan turned back to his patient, "I thought you weren't on nights anymore?"
"It's true that while I do my best work at night, I tend to do it outside of these sanitary walls," James said, motioning to the walls, before shrugging, "I'm covering for Bridget. Thought I'd actually get some work done for once."
Logan rolled his eyes, continuing to stroke Charlie's arm, avoiding the tubes and wires that stuck out of his bandages. James went around to the other side, reaching for the other hand, "You know, I check on him too. I've even changed his bandages a couple times. It's not good…"
A pair of dark eyes glared at him and he shut up, before attempting to penetrate Logan's emotions, usually so withdrawn, "You know he's not out of the woods yet. Don't let this become one of those cases that haunt you."
"It already does," he admitted. He never bothered lying to James, who though immature and cocky, was actually a pretty good listener, and had kept Logan under his wing since he'd started his residency. Originally he'd hit on him, but the result had been miserable at best. Ever since they'd been flirty but platonic best friends and James was probably the only one he was willing to show the depth of his investment in this case.
James came around the other side of the bed, standing behind Logan and giving him his signature massage, which was more than needed by the doctor's knotted shoulders. Leaning back into his friend's capable hands, the doctor sighed, realizing just how distracting his feelings for his patient were getting.
Though he was equally if not more distracted by another person he'd met only days ago, and he could tell that James was interested in the state of that relationship as well. Well, a relationship it was not. At the moment it mostly consisted of concerned reports on Charlie's condition, and sleepy texts after long shifts. Kendall was beginning to sound like his mother with all the warnings to rest, as though his state of mind affected Kendall's.
Nudging James's hands off of his shoulders, Logan stood, taking one last look at the small body attached to innumerable wires, before leading the nurse out of the room and into the break room. He'd never been much of a coffee drinker until he started his residency, but after years of working nights it had become one of his worst addictions, along with working in general.
Pouring two cups of moderately warm black coffee, he handed one of them to James, who smirked, signaling the start of his social call. It was like a shade had gone down on the deep sensitive James that had stood by him as he watched over Charlie, and had been replaced with his normal impish self. Though he'd never admit it, it was one of his favorite things about James.
"So, tomorrow's Friday. Your night off. Any big plans?" he observed, both of them recognizing his loaded question.
Logan rolled his eyes at the lack of subtlety, "I haven't heard from Kendall if that's what you're asking. I haven't even seen him since that night he came to visit Charlie."
"That was only a few days ago Logan," James reminded him, and Logan flushed a little bit.
"It seems like longer," he admitted, and James shook his head knowingly.
He thought for a moment before raising the mug to his lips, trying to hide the smug look on his face, as he added, "Well, did I mention he came by yesterday?"
The doctor choked, losing whatever sense of dignity he had concerning James and his personal life, and he couldn't help but ask, "Was he?"
"He asked about you," James started, before admitting. "And Charlie. He was here to see Charlie, but when he recognized me he wanted to explain why he hadn't consulted you like he said he would. He didn't want to bother you, what with all those long hours you work. He doesn't know how you do it."
"He spends his nights fighting fires and he wonders how I do it?" Logan praised, finishing off his coffee with a final swig.
James shrugged, "Well, they do sleep at the firehouse, I guess. I mean, they can't spend the whole night going up and down the pole."
"You were grasping for that one," Logan observed, though he smiled.
James stuck his tongue out childishly, "Just like you're grasping for his pole?"
He rolled his eyes again, before bringing them back around, "Did you say anything embarrassing? See, I phrased it as a question, but I know you said something embarrassing, so out with it."
"I may have mentioned that you didn't have plans for Friday. And that you're in somewhat of a dry spell," he answered with a shrug.
Logan began to blush before begging, "You didn't."
"I didn't," James said, smiling, before he winked. "Mention the dry spell, that is. But I totally insinuated that he needed to ask you out. I couldn't help myself."
"I would think you'd be more inclined to claim him for yourself?" Logan asked, only half joking.
James smirked, "It's useless. You should have seen the way he blushed when I started talking about you. I've never seen a grown man blush like that; apart from you, that is."
"And on that note, I think I need to get back to work," Logan stood, trying to hide the coloring of his cheeks. "Are you coming with me?"
"Nah," the taller man answered as he stood, walking over to the coffee machine. "Mr. Lovell needs a sponge bath and I hope if I disappear long enough, I won't be the one giving it to him. He keeps trying to pinch my ass, horny old man."
"Your ass is kind of irresistible," he teased, pinching James through his scrubs as he skulked off back to work.
Once he was out of James's line of vision though, Logan had a hard time not thinking about their conversation. James had been known to embellish his stories, or outright lie for the sake of making him blush, but he seemed relatively serious about his conversation with Kendall. Before Logan could stop himself, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to the man in question, overriding his own nerves, "Rescued any trapped kittens lately?"
He regretted his words immediately, not because he'd sent them, but because he immediately pictured Kendall up a ladder with a kitten safely in his arms, the stark contrast of his strength with his gentleness, which Logan had already seen in regards to Charlie.
Thankfully, he was distracted with a response, "It's three in the morning. Unless there's an outbreak of vampire cats I haven't heard about, I leave that kind of stuff to the day guys. How about you? Busy night?"
The doctor smiled, not expecting an immediate response. His eyes scanned the emergency room, where things were pretty calm. Even Dr. Benson was bent over the desk at the nurses' station, conversing with some of the older night nurses. He texted him back, "The most action we've gotten all night was Mr. Lovell pinching James's ass. It's slower than molasses around here."
Though he expected another text, instead his phone began buzzing, and his heart stopped for a moment before he accepted the phone call.
"Are you allowed to answer personal calls at work?" were the first words out of his mouth, and Logan looked around to see that nobody was looking in his direction.
He shook his head as he answered, "We're not…not allowed to. I've just never had cause to."
"Well that's going to change," he announced, and Logan consciously had to keep his dimples from showing. "It's not often I meet someone that has my schedule. Or understands the concept of not being allowed to complain about slow nights because it means all is right with the world."
His face twisted pensively, because in all his years of experience, he'd never thought of it that way. After all, he could count on one hand the people he was close enough to complain to. "Well I'm glad the world is at peace for a few moments, but I'm going to fall asleep standing up."
"I have the opposite problem," Kendall confided. "I'm upstairs at the firehouse, lying in a bunk, and for the life of me I can't get to sleep. I've counted every ceiling tile twice."
"Do you need me to sing you to sleep?" he offered, before cringing and slamming his hand into a nearby wall. "Please disregard my previous statement. I need more coffee."
He heard a chuckle at the other end, but without the mocking tone he expected. Instead, the warm voice answered, "I will keep that in mind."
Logan had a feeling he didn't mean his coffee addiction. Inwardly groaning, he changed the subject, "I just checked on Charlie. He's…resting."
"I don't like the sound of that," Kendall admitted, but he didn't sound surprised.
Logan ran over the boy's file in his head, "We're still trying to fight the infection in his legs, but his vital signs seem normal. Soon we'll have to start with the skin transplants, but we have to see how his legs do first."
"He can do it," Kendall assured them both, though neither could really know. "I actually meant to talk to you about something. When I was at the hospital yesterday, I ran into his social worker."
"James told me you'd been here," he added, not quite thinking about the implications.
There was a pause before Kendall asked, "You and James talk about me?"
Logan cleared his through, fully aware that he was blushing, before he asked, "So you talked to the social worker?"
Kendall ignored the sidebar, and Logan could imagine that he was smiling, as he continued, "She said that Charlie's mom is being buried tomorrow, and James mentioned that it was your day off. I know it's kind of strange but…she doesn't have anyone."
"And you don't like the idea of her being buried without ceremony," he finished. Though he only knew the bare minimum about Marissa Evans, by everything he'd heard from the social worker, she'd been trying to do right by her son. They were just above the poverty line, but only because she'd left Charlie's dad after he became abusive. Like Charlie, she was doing everything right. Hopefully, his story would end differently.
"When Charlie gets older, I don't want him to feel bad because he couldn't be there for her. I want to be able to tell him that somebody said a prayer and she wasn't forgotten," Kendall said, sounding almost angry at the circumstances.
"What time is the burial?" he asked, ducking into a room as a nurse came toward him, probably to assign him a patient, but Dr. Benson was still free and hopefully she would continue toward him.
"It's tomorrow at one o'clock. I can pick you up at noon if you want. Give me your address?" he could hear rustling on the other end of the line as he struggled to find something to write on.
"I'll text it to you," he promised, and the rustling stopped. "Listen, I should get back to work, and you should get some sleep. But I'll be ready at noon tomorrow. Goodnight Kendall."
"Goodnight Logan," he answered, punctuated with a yawn. Logan smiled as he realized that their conversation had been just what he needed to get to sleep, though he wished he could do the same. Instead he finally looked up, nearly screaming at the tall figure in front of him.
"Shit, James. Where the hell did you come from?" he asked, stumbling backward and into the wall behind him. Even in the dark room, James's glaring white smile was visible.
"You're not supposed to take personal calls at work," he mocked, but his motives were clear. "Was that Kendall?"
"Who else would call at three in the morning?" he asked, before trying to turn out into the hallway. He was blocked by an arm resting across the doorway at head level.
James leaned forward, one of his favorite interrogation methods, "Oh, one of those calls."
"Not everyone spends their life trying to get off, James," he said, rolling his eyes before ducking under the obtrusive arm as James followed him down the hallway.
His long legs kept him half a step behind, and the taller man leaned forward to whisper, "That's because everyone else is doing it wrong."
Logan spun around to face his friend, coming nose to nose with him as James made no effort to remove his cocky smirk, "Just say it James. I need to get back to work before they write me up."
"I just want to know if he asked you out. What I caught at the end sounded promising," he said, dissolving a little into a less aggravating form.
Logan shrugged, "He's picking me up to go to the funeral for Charlie's mom. That's hardly a date."
"But it is something," James added optimistically. Logan had to agree. It was definitely something.