Johnny closed the bathroom door behind him, easing himself onto the edge of the tub with a heavy sigh. Even this little bit of activity today was really taking it out of him, and the pain was starting to creep up on him again.
Not that he wanted to let Steven know that. He was already going above and beyond just by being here.
That soup was damn good though. It was good to know there would be more of that waiting for him.
Johnny stripped down and ran some warm water in the tub, finding a washcloth and a bar of soap. It would be enough to get him by until he got this cast off. At least he was home now, and out from under so many watchful eyes.
As he washed up, his mind wandered, just a little. He realized they hadn't bothered to talk much about sleeping arrangements. Johnny had assumed that Steven would want to sleep with him, but maybe he'd rather stay out on the couch.
Johnny would rather he didn't. Figuring out a way to ask Steven without, well, asking him? Johnny had no idea how to go about doing that.
A tap on the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Still doing okay in there?"
"Yeah." Johnny called back. "Be out in a few."
What he really wanted to do was wash his hair, but he didn't have a means of managing that. If he remembered correctly, there was a bucket under the sink. It wasn't perfect, but then again, nothing was right now.
"Hey, Steven?" Johnny called out.
The door opened, and Steven poked his head in. "Yeah?"
"I think there's a bucket under the sink." Johnny told him.
Steven's face broke out in a wide grin. "Ah, yes. Have to manage that crowning glory of yours."
Johnny huffed, feeling the heat rise and Steven appeared slightly chastened. "I'll find it. Be right back."
Steven soon returned with the bucket, turning on the water and testing it before partially filling it. Johnny hadn't counted on him actually helping out with this part. "Uh, I can get it from here."
"Tilt your head back." Steven told him in a tone that left little room for argument.
Johnny leaned back slightly, ignoring the twinge of pain. He suddenly felt Steven's hand spreading out between his shoulders as he started to pour the water over his head.
The sigh that escaped Johnny didn't go unnoticed by Steven, who let out a soft laugh. "Doing okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Johnny was a little embarrassed.
"Good. Sit up." Steven's tone was slightly authoritative, and Johnny felt almost compelled to go along with it. It wasn't long before he felt Steven's fingers working through his hair, the tips massaging his scalp.
That was a wholly unexpected sensation, and Johnny closed his eyes and relaxed into Steven's touch. He couldn't recall a time when anyone had done this for him, not for many years. Damned if he wasn't enjoying it, though.
"Okay, lean back again." Steven told him softly. It was almost as if he was enjoying this almost as much as Johnny was.
That was crazy though, wasn't it? It surely wasn't a normal reaction. He set the thought aside in favor of leaning back into Steven's hand and letting the warm water pour over his head.
"There, done." Steven told him, handing him a towel. "Feel better?"
"Yeah." Johnny was more relaxed now, even though he was hurting a little. He was debating with himself as to whether he wanted more soup or wanted to lie down. Right now, his bed was sounding pretty damn good. "Think I wanna lie down."
"Sure." Steven nodded. "I changed your sheets. Hope you don't mind."
Johnny was oddly grateful. It had been a bit longer than usual since he'd done that himself. "No, suppose I don't. Were you a nurse in another life or something?"
"Not quite." Steven replied. "I took care of my mom before she passed away. Kind of learned as I went."
"Oh." Johnny didn't know what to say to that.
"It's been a few years." Steven told him. "That's how I inherited the land, actually. She left it to me."
Johnny pulled on a pair of boxers before using his crutches to push himself to his feet. "Suppose something good came out of it, then."
Steven smiled ever so slightly as he moved aside to let Johnny get out of the bathroom. "It always makes me think of her. She loved the land up there, went at every opportunity. She would have liked the cabin very much."
Johnny made his way to the bedroom, arranging the pillows so that he would still be slightly upright. His ribs still bothered him, so anything he could do to ease the discomfort would help, he knew that.
"Do you need anything else?" Steven asked.
"Just you." The words came out before Johnny could stop them, and he immediately wished he could take them back. "I mean—"
Steven cut him off with a kiss. "If you want me here with you, that's fine with me. Wasn't sure you would."
That heat rushed through Johnny again, and he took a seat on the bed, setting his crutches aside before reaching out for Steven. The brief moment of panic immediately faded as he pulled him closer, sliding his other hand to rest on Steven's back and resting his head against Steven's stomach.
He felt Steven's hand run over the top of his head and kiss it lightly, and Johnny wrapped his arms around him with a sigh. These were hardly ideal circumstances, but it had been so long since he'd been this close to Steven that he would take whatever contact he could get.
"Tell you what." Steven offered. "You get all settled, and I'll be right back."
"Okay." Johnny released him and shifted so that he laid back against the pillows, pulling the sheet and blanket over him. It wasn't particularly chilly tonight, just about right, actually. He was almost comfortable now, more comfortable than he had been in the hospital.
He listened as Steven moved through the apartment, turning off lights before he finally returned to the bedroom, rounding the end of the bed and stripping down before climbing in next to him and settling in.
"You're all set?" Steven asked him.
"Mm-hmm." Johnny was already feeling drowsy again.
"Okay." Steven squeezed his hand briefly. "If you need anything, tell me."
Johnny squeezed his hand in response. At the moment, he had everything he needed.
A sharp pain caused Johnny to bolt awake, leaving him gasping for breath. The gasping was making the pain worse, and a feeling of terror went through him.
Pulmonary embolism. One of the risks that had been on his release paperwork. But that wasn't possible. He was supposed to be past the point of risk for this.
He reached out wildly, trying desperately to get Steven's attention. Finally, the other man stirred. "What, what's going on?"
Johnny couldn't get the words out, he only hoped he could get his message across. Steven reached over to turn on a light, still completely disoriented. "John? What's wrong?"
"Can't breathe." Johnny managed to blurt out.
Steven looked baffled for a moment before he seemed to understand. "Okay, who do I call?"
"Fire department." Johnny told him. "LA County."
"Got it." Steven nodded. "Hold on."
Johnny closed his eyes, doing his best not to panic. As long as the blood clot didn't break loose, he'd probably make it to the hospital. But every minute counted, he knew that.
He just hoped Steven wasn't the panicking kind.
"They're on their way, John." Steven had returned, rounding the end of the bed to pull on a T-shirt and jeans. "You want me to get some clothes on you?"
Johnny shook his head. "Don't bother."
"Okay." Steven sounded worried, but not panicked. Good.
He climbed back onto the bed, gently rubbing between Johnny's shoulders. "It's going to be okay. Just hang in there."
Johnny would have laughed if he hadn't been in so much pain. It was remarkably close to what Roy had told him right after he'd gotten hit.
Before long Johnny heard loud banging on his door, and Steven immediately hopped down from the bed to go answer. "He's in here. He woke up and couldn't breathe."
The two paramedics entered the room right behind Steven and got right to work, taking vitals and setting up the biophone to call into the hospital. "Rampart, this is County Ninety-Nine, how do you read?"
"Go ahead, Ninety-Nine." Morton's voice answered.
The paramedic rattled off Johnny's symptoms while the other slipped an oxygen mask over Johnny's face. He could see Steven standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his face, and he wanted to reassure him that he was fine, that he was in good hands.
The pain and the shortness of breath was making that impossible right now.
"Start an IV of D-five-W and get him here as quickly as possible." Morton's authoritative voice rang out over the biophone. "Is there an ambulance en route?"
"Affirmative, Rampart." The paramedic told him. "We're about seven minutes out."
"We're going to have to load him on the backboard to get him downstairs." The other paramedic told his partner. "No way those guys are going to be able to get that gurney up the stairs."
"Take it easy with him." Steven spoke up, that worried expression never leaving his face.
"Don't worry, sir." One of the paramedics told him. "We'll take good care of your friend."
Johnny would have laughed at that if he could have. That was followed by a vague thought that there was a possibility that the true nature of his and Steven's relationship being revealed.
That should have been the least of his worries, of course, but he couldn't help but think about it. It was better than worrying about dying on the way to the hospital.
"Okay, slide that board under him." The paramedics were talking to each other again. "Let's get him strapped down."
"Is there something I can do?" Steven asked.
"Grab that biophone and our drug box." One of the paramedics instructed. "Sir, we're putting the oxygen tank between your legs."
Johnny nodded in acknowledgement, and before he knew it, they were on the move. It wasn't an easy trip down the stairs, but Johnny knew the paramedics were doing their best. As long as nothing dislodged on the way there, everything would be fine.
The ambulance was waiting when they made it downstairs, and Johnny was loaded onto the gurney and rolled into the ambulance.
"We're taking him to Rampart." One of the paramedics was telling Steven.
"Okay, I'll follow behind." Steven answered. "John, I'll meet you there."
"Call Roy." Johnny tried to tell him, but he was fairly sure Steven didn't hear him. No matter. Surely someone at Rampart would know to get hold of Roy.
It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to hold on a little longer.
Steven climbed into the Jeep and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. The panic in John's eyes was embedded into Steven's memory, and trying to keep his own panic at bay long enough to get John the help he needed had been a job in itself.
But he was okay now, or at least okay enough. Thanks to the efficient work of the paramedics, John was still alive and on his way to the hospital.
He put the Jeep in gear and followed behind the fire department truck, which was following the ambulance. Not that he didn't know the way to the hospital by now, but it was dark and still an unfamiliar area, so keeping those guys in front of him was a good idea. Besides, his mind wasn't entirely on his driving, most of it was occupied with worrying about John.
No, he had to shove that worry aside. John would be fine. He was tough, a hell of a lot tougher than he looked. It would take more than this to take him down.
At least, Steven hoped so.
He pulled into the parking lot right behind the fire department truck and found a place to park, hopping down and headed toward the entrance where John was being unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled into the emergency room.
"Treatment room three." Steven immediately recognized the crisp voice of the nurse, the same one that had been with the two doctors the first time he'd come to see John. He couldn't remember her name.
She spotted him as Steven approached her desk. "Hello. Did you come in with Johnny?"
"I followed them in." Steven explained. "Is he going to be okay?"
The nurse pressed her lips together, glancing down the hall. "They'll do all they can for him."
"That's not much of an answer." Steven replied sharply, immediately regretting it. "I'm sorry. He just scared the hell out of me. Woke me up out of a sound sleep, and I didn't understand what was going on at first."
The nurse looked more sympathetic now. "You got him here as quickly as you could. That helped a lot. Now, there's a lounge at the end of the hall. Why don't you get a cup of coffee, and I'll let you know when I hear something?"
"Thank you…" Steven spotted her name tag.
"Dixie." She told him with a slight smile.
"Dixie." Steven repeated. "Thank you, Dixie."
With that he headed where Dixie had directed him and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat and picking up a magazine. His mind drifted back to the afternoon and evening he and John had spent together, how relaxing and enjoyable it had been just to be in his company, even if he'd been dozing off for most of it.
The thought that it might have been the last one they would spend together was too much for him to think about.
He kept looking up at every sound, waiting and hoping for word. But none was forthcoming, and by his second cup of coffee, he felt very much on edge.
So on edge, in fact, that when someone touched his shoulder, he nearly jumped a mile. He felt the heat rise when he realized it was Dixie.
She merely graced him with a warm smile. "Johnny's stabilized and going into surgery. You can wait for him there if you want."
"Thank you." Steven nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. Things seemed to be improving, at least.
Dixie gave him directions and he was on his way to the elevator and heading to another waiting room. There was no telling how long he was going to be here. He'd started to lose track of how long he'd been here already.
A quick check of his watch surprised him. It was nearly three in the morning. He couldn't remember how long he'd waited in the emergency room waiting area. It appeared he was in for another long wait.
He stepped off the elevator and took a seat in a chair. It was just him and one other woman, who was stretched out on a short bench. Not wanting to disturb her, he picked up a nearby magazine as quietly as he could and started flipping through it.
It was the same magazine that had featured his California shoot a couple months prior, and his Outer Banks shoot before that. All these places were starting to run together, and honestly, he longed to be home.
More than that, he longed for John to come with him. If he had his way, they would already be on their way, having their own grand adventure. It would be a hell of a drive, but would it ever be worth it.
That was if he could ever drag John away. He seemed fairly settled here, and didn't seem to have a strong desire to leave, except possibly for a visit.
Still, Steven couldn't help but consider the possibility. It would keep him sufficiently distracted until John was out of surgery. If he came out of surgery.
No, he had to think positive. Worrying never did any good. John was young, seemed reasonably healthy. He'd be fine.
The doors opened, and Steven looked up, even though he knew it would likely be too soon for word. The surgeon came out, looking at both Steven and the woman who was laying on the bench. Steven pointed toward her, and the surgeon gently shook her to awaken her.
"Your daughter did just fine." The surgeon told her. "We're going to keep her in recovery until she comes out of anesthesia, and then you'll be able to see her."
"Thank you." The woman murmured, blinking her eyes sleepily as the surgeon left. She glanced across at Steven. "Hello. I don't remember seeing you here."
"You were sleeping." Steven explained. "I hope I didn't disturb you."
"Oh no, not at all." The woman replied. "My daughter was just home from college visiting. She woke up in the middle of the night with this terrible pain. Turned out to be appendicitis, can you believe it?"
"It's nothing to mess with." Steven responded. "My little sister's appendix burst when she was little. My mom thought she was being dramatic, like she always was. Took her a while to realize my sister was in real pain."
"Oh, poor kid." The woman shook her head.
Steven chuckled a little. "Yeah, my mom felt terrible. My sister never let her live it down."
"I'm sure." The woman smiled. "You must be waiting for someone, too."
"Friend of mine." Steven was surprised at how easily the lie came out. Not a lie, exactly. He did consider John a friend. It's just that he was much more than that. "Woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't breathe. Been waiting down in emergency half the night while they got him stabilized."
The woman frowned worriedly. "Well, I hope your friend is okay."
"Thanks, me too." Steven found himself wanting to talk a little, and it seemed this woman was willing to listen. "I haven't known him all that long. It's kind of a funny story."
"Well, it seems I have time." The woman answered.
And so, Steven told the story of how he and John had met, how easily they had connected, how John had gone out of his way to show him some of his favorite spots. How they had stayed in touch afterward, all the phone calls and letters. "I was actually going to try to swing through and visit while I was out on a shoot in Nevada. It's only a few hours drive, figured I could make some time, you know? Well, turned out he'd gotten hit by a car while on a call. He's a firefighter and paramedic. Anyway, he was in the hospital, needed some help once he got out, so I arranged to stay with him for a while."
"It's a good thing you did." The woman told him. "You might have saved his life."
Steven could appreciate the irony of that. "Maybe."
"Well, this friend of yours sure sounds like quite a character." The woman responded.
Steven couldn't help smiling at that. "He is. He's…yeah, he's quite a guy."
"Mrs. Phillips?" Someone called out.
The woman smiled warmly as she rose, crossing to squeeze Steven's hand. "I hope your friend comes out okay. I'll keep him in my thoughts."
"Thank you." Steven replied as he squeezed back. "I'll do the same for your daughter."
With that, the woman was gone, and Steven was alone again. He settled back into the chair with a sigh. He was tempted to stretch out on the short bench, but he was sure that it would be far less comfortable than the hard plastic chair he was currently sitting in.
After a while, the doors opened again, and another surgeon exited, and Steven rose from the chair. "How's he doing?"
The surgeon's expression was unreadable. "We were able to remove the clot, and we've started him on blood thinners. He's in recovery now. Once he comes out of the anesthesia, you'll be able to see him."
Steven breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
The surgeon nodded and left Steven in the waiting room, and Steven sank back down into the chair. John was going to be fine, just fine. And maybe, just maybe, they could start planning their adventure.