Pairings/Characters: Roy/Johnny, Mike Stoker, Marco Lopez, Chet Kelly, Henry, Hank Stanley
Series Notes: Inspired by my essay, Old Married Couple Moments. :)
Genres: Fluff, Humor, Slice-Of-Life
Summary: Roy and Johnny are two tired paramedics who need a pick-me-up.
Date Of Completion: August 27, 2010
Date Of Posting: September 5, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 941
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The entire series can be found here.
"One Cup, One Plate"
(Olde English Poem)
13th Century C.E.
Roy yawned, flopping down into a chair at the kitchen table. He thanked Mike for setting a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him, taking a sip. Mike returned to the counter helping Marco chop up vegetables for supper.
The blond paramedic was bone-tired. The squad had been called out six times in seven hours, and he felt as if he could sleep for a week.
Johnny shuffled in, plopping into the chair next to him, thigh brushing against his partner’s. Chet looked up from reading the newspaper on the couch, faithful basset hound Henry resting his head in his lap.
“So, you guys gonna show your faces around here?”
“Yeah, Chet.” Johnny took Roy’s cup and took a sip, putting it back on the table. “And how many runs did you guys have?”
“One. Trash fire.”
Johnny rolled his eyes as Mike and Marco chuckled.
Roy yawned again, chin on his hand, his eyes half-closed. He took another swig of coffee, trying to perk up.
Johnny ran a hand through his hair, his arm brushing Roy’s shoulder. He stretched out his long legs under the table.
“That’s not fair,” he whined. “Man, is that fair, Roy?”
“Not fair.” Roy’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Marco set a snack of fruit in front of him: cantaloupe, watermelon, and honeydew melon, all neatly sliced on the white plate. Roy smiled his thanks and picked up the fork, spearing a cube of melon. He ate a few more pieces while Johnny ranted, waving his arms, Roy feeling the gentle rush of air by his ear.
“It’s karmic, I tell ya! These guys get one run and we get six! There’s just no justice in this world!”
Chet snorted. “Well, Gage, you were the one eager to become a paramedic. Them’s the breaks.”
“I didn’t become a paramedic to treat hypochondriacs, which is what old Mrs. Seeley is, callin’ us for nothing!” He picked up the discarded fork and stabbed a piece of watermelon, wolfing it down. “I became a paramedic to help people in real need, right, Roy?”
“Right,” said Roy, missing the amused look that passed between Mike and Marco.
Johnny stabbed the air with Roy’s fork. “It just isn’t right! We need to get that call system prioritized.” He ate a piece of cantaloupe, putting the fork down. Roy picked it up and polished off the watermelon.
Hank entered the kitchen. “Glad to see you two back.”
“Yeah, good to be back,” said Roy, sipping his coffee.
“Hopefully we’ll make it though supper, Cap.” Johnny picked up the fork again and finished the cantaloupe.
“Let’s hope so, especially since Marco is preparing a stir-fry.”
“Mmm.” Johnny finished the melon.
“Yeah, Ol’ Hollow Leg will eat anything, Cap.” Chet scratched Henry behind the ears.
“Well, almost anything. I’ll pass on your so-called cooking, Chet.”
Chet snorted. “At least I know how to cook something besides hot dogs and hamburgers.”
Johnny huffed, “At least I didn’t send us all to the hospital last month!”
“Hey, I didn’t know the mushrooms were poisonous!”
Johnny stood up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“That’s right, cool down your hot head!”
Johnny grumbled as he left the kitchen. Roy yawned as he stood. “I think I’ll try to catch a nap before supper.” He shuffled over to the sink, Mike taking the cup, plate, and fork from him.
“It’ll take care of these, Roy. Get some rest.”
“Thanks.” Roy smiled. He left the kitchen, rubbing his face.
“Well, at least with those two, you only have to wash one cup and plate,” Chet drawled.
His crewmates grinned.
Roy curled up on his side, getting comfortable. He began to drift off just as Johnny came into the room, clad in only a towel and carrying his shoes, underwear and a fresh uniform. His movements were quiet, but Roy opened his eyes, his pulse speeding up as he saw the slender body glistening from the shower. Johnny dropped his towel and bent over to pick up his underwear from his bed.
“Junior, you’re killin’ me,” Roy groaned.
Johnny grinned as he shimmied into his briefs, giving an extra wiggle. He dressed quickly, not wanting to literally be caught with his pants down if the tones went off. He put on his pants and sat down, slipping on his socks and shoes. Roy watched the play of light from the window on his lover’s torso.
Johnny’s grin widened. “Thanks.” He finished tying his shoelace and shrugged into his shirt, taking his time buttoning it. Roy sighed a put-upon sigh while Johnny laughed.
Johnny ran his fingers through hair, sitting quietly for a minute, then flipped back onto the bed while kicking off the shoes he’d just put on
“What are you doing?” asked Roy.
“I’m gonna catch some Z’s. I’m bushed, too.”
Roy watched as Johnny curled up on his side, not his usual sleeping position here at work. No, he usually slept on his back with his arm slung over his eyes. He slept on his side at home, curled up against Roy. Johnny’s brown eyes sparkled as he lay on his left side toward Roy, only a few feet separating their bunks.
“You’re evil, Junior,” Roy muttered, putting the pillow over his head while Johnny laughed, the silvery sound bringing a smile to the blond’s face.
He wouldn’t have Johnny any other way.