A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Part 2

[waldos_writings]

Title: A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Part 1
Words: 4620
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Carson
Spoilers: very, very minor one for Sateda
Summary:: "His right arm is completely fucked up,” John said, heedless of his audience. “I don’t think the shoulder is dislocated, but it’s not in good shape. The elbow has to be dislocated or something, because, really it shouldn’t bend like it did and I think a bone or several may be broken. "
Author's Notes: Written for zortified for the beckettsheppard Thing-a-Thon '06.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Part 1



When John got back Carson was struggling with a fork and a chicken breast. The mashed potatoes were mostly gone as was the corn. There was a stem in a paper cup that had apparently, at one point, held grapes. Food Carson could handle with one hand and that wouldn’t be rough on a stomach that had been less than happy earlier.

“Here, let me,” John said, taking the fork and knife, pulling large chunks of chicken off the bones and setting them on the side of the plate.

“It’s been quite a few years since I’ve needed someone to cut my food for me,” Carson groused.

John shrugged. “Let me give you a little free advice. Learn to accept help graciously for the next few weeks. Everyone’s going to want to give it and you’re going to need it. How about we not make it a big deal?”

Carson sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be difficult.”

John kissed the side of his head. He grabbed the duffle he’d brought in. “You were right about the pajama tops. I ended up going down to supply and getting you some of the biggest t-shirts they had. We’ll put them over your bum arm first and then they should be big enough to let you get the rest of the way into them without too much trouble.”

Carson nodded and turned back to his chicken. It was cold and his stomach seemed less excited by food than it had been before. He made a face and pushed the tray away.

“Chicken no good?” John asked as he put an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of black and blue plaid sleep pants on the end of the bed.

“I don’t feel much like eating right now,” Carson said gingerly leaning back on his pillows.

John pushed the tray across the room and then sat next to him. “You feeling sick?”

Carson shrugged with his good shoulder. “I think maybe I just pushed it too fast. I know they didn’t have to anesthetize me, but I’ve still been through a bit of a shock today.”

John made a face. Being nauseous wasn’t good, but he knew Carson didn’t want to jeopardize his chances for getting out by adding symptoms to his condition. John decided to let it go unless it started looking like something that could cause a problem. “Want to get out of that lovely hospital gown?”

“Most definitely,” Carson said sitting up so that John could undo the ties at the back.

John carefully unwound the gown from where it had been threaded under the immobilizer. “Can this come off long enough for us to get a t-shirt on you?”

Carson glanced down at his arm. This would suck, but it had to be done. “Carefully,” he told John starting to undo some of the Velcro straps on his own.

“I’ve got it,” John said, batting Carson’s hands away and making mental notes on how the device went back together. He set it aside on the bed and carefully pulled the gown the rest of the way off, balled it up and tossed it into the hamper in the corner.

He grabbed the t-shirt and stood with his head canted for a second, trying to think of the best way to get it on Carson. He could see some swelling around both Carson’s shoulder and elbow. There was bruising creeping out from the black brace that was standing in for a cast. He shook his head. “You have to hurt like hell,” he observed quietly.

“I’m on rather a lot of drugs right now, so it could be worse. Before dinner I had another Vicodin and a muscle relaxer which is doing its damndest to knock me on my arse.” Carson unconsciously clutched his right arm to his side with his left hand.

John nodded. “So we should probably get you dressed and get you home before they succeed,” he said, gently squeezing the back of Carson’s neck.

“Aye, we probably should,” Carson agreed, still not looking at all like he wanted to move his arm the little bit it would take to thread the t-shirt through.

John gave him a cheerful smile and bunched up the shirt and very, very carefully and very, very slowly looped the sleeve over Carson’s hand, then the brace and finally up and over the elbow. He stretched out the hem and carefully maneuvered the rest of Carson through the appropriate holes and smoothed the back. “There!” he crowed triumphantly. “And it only took us… eight minutes to get a shirt on you,” John teased.

“Now for this lovely contraption,” Carson said indicating the immobilizer with his eyes.

John carefully wrapped the padded cuff around Carson’s arm and proceeded to realign the rest of the bits and pieces, slowly tightening the Velcros and buckles as he went.

Carson gave him a slight smile. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Dislocated my shoulder playing football in high school. I know how much you don’t want to move that arm,” John said adjusting the neck strap one last bit and squeezing Carson’s good shoulder. “Okay, pants,” he said pulling the pajama bottoms over from the end of the bed.

Carson flushed scarlet.

“What?” John asked as Carson didn’t make any move to swing his legs over and get into his pants.

Carson kept staring at the sheet and blanket that covered his lap.

“Oh for crying out loud,” John groused. He leaned in and whispered, “You act like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“This is a little different,” Carson said to the sheet.

John began pulling Carson up and helped him to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the edge of the sheet around in case anyone from his staff did decide this would be a good time to check his vitals. “Okay, explain this to me. Why did they have to take off your underwear to work on your arm?”

Carson helped John get his feet into the pajamas. “It was surgery. Any surgery requires a foley. A policy which I may be revisiting very soon,” he added acerbically.

John just laughed as he helped Carson to carefully stand and pulled his pants up for him. “Not usually the direction I’m moving your pants,” he whispered as he leaned in to smooth the waistband in the back.

Carson rolled his eyes, quickly discovering that such a simple thing could make his head spin like a gyroscope. He clutched John’s sleeve in his good hand.

“Easy,” John said sitting him back on the bed. “Better?”

“Aye,” Carson whispered, not risking setting his head off again by nodding. He let John help him back up onto the bed where he could lean against the pillows and let his eyes drift closed. “I think I may be on more meds than I originally thought.”

John started ticking off from the list Biro had given him to take to the dispensary. “Let’s see, pain pills, muscle relaxers, antibiotic… does that sound about right?”

Carson nodded against his pillow. “And between the pain pill and the muscle relaxer, I’m a little done in.”

John sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed Carson’s left hand. “We’ll get you home in just a bit.”

Even as he spoke, Carolyn Biro came in with a wheelchair. She made a quick check to make sure Carson’s fingers were still warm and that his pain seemed under control. “Remember to set an alarm so that you take a Vicodin every four hours. You do not want to let that wear off. And you need the Norflex every six for the next few days.” She turned to John and handed him a set of gel freezer bags, already cooled, “These go on his shoulder and elbow for fifteen minutes out of every hour until bedtime.”

Carson made a face. “She says this like I’m not a doctor.”

Carolyn smiled sweetly at him and patted his knee. “In this case, you’re not. You’re a patient. Learn to live with it.” She turned back to John. “If anything gives you cause for concern, bring him straight back. No matter how much he insists he’s fine.”

Carson risked rolling his eyes at her, relieved that it didn’t set his head to spinning this time.

Once John seemed to have everything tucked into the duffle and the duffle hanging from the arm of the wheelchair, he turned to help Carson down again. “Ready?”

“More than. How the hell is anyone expected to sleep in this place? All the drugs I’m on and I can’t even properly fall asleep here,” Carson groused as John helped him to get settled in the wheelchair, kicking down the footrests and waiting for Carson to get situated.

“Remember that the next time I tell you that I really will sleep better in my own bed after a mission that’s gone badly,” John said releasing the brakes and heading for the door.

***~~~***~~~***~~~***

Fortunately (or through careful orchestrating on John’s part, Carson would never be sure), no one saw fit to disturb them on the short trek to Carson’s quarters.

Carson let out a huge sigh of relief when the door whooshed shut behind them. He’d been fortunate enough to have been blessed with fairly good health. A few allergies, but nothing severe. He’d broken a collarbone playing rugby in secondary school and he’d been banged up in a car accident during his residency. Nothing that had forced him to spend very much time as anyone’s patient. He was starting to think that maybe that was why he wasn’t very good at it. He’d been claustrophobic and impotent as a patient in his own infirmary and it had just ratcheted up the anxiety he felt about his injuries in the first place. It was good to be home.

John parked the wheelchair next to the bed and took Carson’s left hand and helped him stand. He almost overbalanced when Carson leaned into him, wrapping his good hand around John’s back and just hanging on him.

John brought both hands carefully around Carson’s back. “You okay?” He rubbed one hand up and down Carson’s spine.

“Glad to be out of there,” he said, finally letting John help him into bed.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Carson looked around, realizing John had gone on another of his ‘fix it’ benders. He couldn’t fix Carson’s arm, so he was doing everything he could think of to make bearing the injury easier. The covers were pulled back, there was a laptop set up on bed stand next to Carson’s side of the bed, with a little remote for the DVD player sitting on the keyboard. There was a small plastic bucket, probably pilfered from Carson’s own infirmary, filled with ice and a bottle of water and two different kinds of juice. He was certain that if he looked in the fridge there’d be a ton of stuff that neither of them kept in their quarters on a regular basis.

Carson let John pull the blankets up over his legs and settled himself against the pillows, before grabbing John’s hand with his. “I’m not dying, John. I’m just… a little inconvenienced.”

John shrugged sheepishly. “I know, but you shouldn’t have been hurt.” John stretched out next to Carson, running his fingers through Carson’s hair.

“We were ambushed by the Genii. We were lucky that this,” he indicated his arm, “was the worst of it. And I’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

John just shrugged, not feeling a lot better about any of it. “I saw him coming at you. I thought you had him.”

“Oh, I had him, alright,” Carson said with a little grin. “Unfortunately for me, he still had me as well.”

John shook his head. “You going straight to sleep?”

“Soon,” Carson agreed. “I need another set of pills soon, I’m sure those’ll put me right out.”

“Want to watch a movie?” John stretched across Carson without waiting for an answer.

Carson laughed. Apparently John had his whole recovery planned out. When he’d take his meds, what he’d eat and what he’d do to keep from getting bored before Carolyn released him back to duty.

“Shrek?” Carson asked as soon as the FBI warning had cleared. They’d seen it before. And the sequel. Several times.

“I wanted something without blood and death and shit blowing up…” Carson could feel John shrugging behind him.

“Quick, somebody write that down. I don’t believe those words have every crossed your lips before.” Carson repositioned himself to get more comfortable and watch the movie.

John looped his arm over Carson’s waist, “I wanted something light and funny and not depressing. Which took out action films, sci fi films and chick flicks. So we’re left with kids’ films. And as kids’ films go, these rock.”

Carson took the hand that rested on his belly and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly.

John kissed the back of his head. “Comfortable?”

“About as much as I’m going to be for a day or two,” Carson replied honestly.

John made a face and thought for a minute. “Here,” he said – his only warning before he shifted away and sat up. “Give me your pillow,” John told him. Carson sat up slowly and carefully and handed it over, curious as to what John was up to.

John put the pillow on his lap and leaned it against his chest. He spread his legs and patted the space between them.

Carson scooted over to lean against John, his shoulder cradled by the pillow.

“You seemed more comfortable being propped up when you were in the infirmary,” John explained, wrapping his arms around Carson’s stomach.

“Now, I’m as comfortable as I’m going to be for the next few days. Possible for a while after that.” Carson snuggled in and tried to wipe the memory of a ridiculously long day with the antics of a talking donkey.


~~~***~~~***~~~

Carson had fallen asleep about half an hour into the movie. John was somewhat surprised that Carson had stayed awake that long. Carson had once put him on Norflex and John had slept most of five days, starting about eight minutes after he took the first pill.

Donkey was being sexually harassed by a very screwed up lady-dragon when the alarm went off. Deciding that it was as good a time as any, John shut down the DVD player and woke Carson for his meds. He watched as first one eye was pried open and then the other finally followed. “I’m going to scoot out and get your meds. Stay sitting up for a second.”

He had all the little amber bottles lined up on the table near the fridge. He poured out all the different things Carson needed for this round and pulled a bottle of apple juice from the bucket. He kissed Carson’s forehead and handed him each pill and the opened bottle of juice. “Need anything else?” he asked as Cason leaned back, clearly falling asleep again.

After a long pause Carson let out a long suffering sigh. “I suppose being horizontal might be a good idea.” He made no move to actually achieve that goal.

John laughed as he recapped the juice and set it aside before it could slide out of Carson’s lax hand and spill on the sheets. The last thing they needed to try and do was change Carson’s clothes and the bedclothes at that point. “Come on,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Sit forward for a second,” John leaned Carson forward and pulled the pillow out and set it back on Carson’s side of the bed. “Do you want a second pillow?” Carson shook his head lazily, his eyes already closed.

John carefully maneuvered Carson onto his back and tucked the blankets around him. “Okay?”

A muffled “muh-huh” was Carson’s only response. John leaned in and kissed Carson’s head. “I’ll be back in a second,” he said as he gathered up a set of his sweats from the dresser and found a t-shirt he could sleep in. It had been a fucking long day and he was more than ready to put it behind them

~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~

Two days later Carson started some light physical therapy on his elbow. At the same time Biro and Kim released him back to light duty. He grumbled about being restricted to paperwork and his lab – no patients – but he had to admit that he really would be pretty useless in a casualty situation.

After a week almost everyone was noticing that he was becoming a little short and snappish with people. John tried to anticipate the things that would frustrate him and beat him to the punch, but it didn’t seem to help.

John had finally backed off a little after a minor explosion as they’d been getting dressed. Carson had been trying to tie his own shoe for the first time since he’d broken his arm and it wasn’t going well.

“Need a hand?” John asked, his mouth still full of toothpaste.

“I’ll get it,” Carson mumbled, attacking the lace again.

John had finished brushing his teeth, shaved and showered and when he came out Carson was still trying to tie that same damn shoe.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. “Come on, let me help,” John said as he tossed his uniform on the bed.

“I can tie my own damn shoes!” Carson bit out nastily.

“I beg to differ,” John shot back before he’d thought about it. “Because it’s still not tied.” He dropped the towel on his bed and pulled on his boxers, watching Carson out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine, whatever, I’m going to be late as it is,” Carson let his foot fall from his knee to the floor where John bent down to tie it quickly.

“You take your pain pills this morning? You’re cranky,” John told him honestly.

Carson grabbed his jacket from the hook near the door. “I took the bloody pill. Can’t I just be pissed without you shoving a pill down my throat?”

John was very glad the doors on Atlantis couldn’t be slammed or there may have been artwork casualties.

Carson’s mood hadn’t improved by the weekly staff meeting. When one of the other soft-scientists had suggested that some of Carson’s team may have botched a set of tests, Carson had gone on a tear.

Eyebrows had been raised all the way around the table. Carson was generally the most mild mannered of the senior staff members. There was a general hush in the room after that and Elizabeth had to dismiss the meeting for everyone to take a breath and regroup. John was secretly harboring the idea that Elizabeth and possibly several others were trying not to crack up – Carson yelling in a meeting was just so out of character.

On their way out the door, John caught up with Carson, but before he could say a word Rodney was there making a face.

“What’s your problem, Rodney?” Carson asked acerbically.

Rodney looked like he was going to laugh but had thought better of it. “I was just going to say ‘there’s only room in this town for one mad scientist, and usually it’s me.’”

Carson rolled his eyes and shoved past him, “Piss off, Rodney.”

Apparently not liking the fact that his humor wasn’t appreciated Rodney retorted with, “You know, you could always use your left hand.”

John let his head hit the doorjamb. Aw hell.

~~~***~~~***~~~

John was sure Carson was heading straight back for his lab, so he sprinted as fast as he could around the long way where he hoped he’d be able to cut Carson off before he got there.

Just as Carson came around the last corner, John slowed to a walk and intercepted him. “Come here,” he said taking Carson’s left hand gently in his.

“I apparently have a set of cultures I need to re-run,” Carson said pulling back.

“It can wait fifteen minutes,” John replied in a tone that brooked no argument and he took Carson’s elbow this time and steered him down the hall.

They ended up in John’s quarters and Carson moved immediately to the window, looking out over the ocean. Without turning to look at John he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been…” He studied the waves, searching for the word.

“Tense?” John put in.

“A right arse?” Carson answered. “It’s just frustrating to have so much difficulty with basic daily skills. At first it wasn’t so bad because it actually hurt to try and do something. But now I’m not in pain as long as I don’t actually try to use my arm, so I think I can handle things, but then I try to straighten my fingers or raise my arm and I see stars and I get a very nasty reminder that it’s still not right. It’s getting very old.”

John pulled Carson over and sat him on the end of the bed. “Speaking of being ‘a right arse’” he said, mocking Carson’s accent playfully, “Was Rodney right?”

“About the cultures? I don’t know there could have been some contamination in-“

“No…” John cut him off. “About that other thing he said.” John didn’t want to repeat Rodney’s comment if he didn’t have to.

“The ‘mad scientist’ remark?” Carson said looking perplexed.

“Nooo…” John replied dragging out the word for a good half dozen seconds. “The last bit. The bit that had you telling him to ‘piss off’.” He smiled, remembering the exchange. It had actually been fairly funny. Would have been funnier if it hadn’t made John realize that he very well could have been part of the reason Carson was in such a foul mood.

“John!” Carson exclaimed.

“Is he right?” John pushed. “Is part of the problem a little… frustration?”

Carson squared his shoulder as much as the immobilizer would let him. “Well, if I’ve been going without, you damn well better have been.” He fixed John with an icy glare.

John shrugged. “My right hand still works just fine.” He wasn’t sure, but he might have blushed a bit as he admitted that.

Carson just sighed, neither confirming John’s theory nor denying it.

John thought on the lock on the door and knelt in front of Carson. “I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me… I mean… I wasn’t sure if you were feeling to poorly to want to…” His eyebrows bounced comically as he leaned in, whispering against Carson’s neck, his hands busy undoing Carson’s trousers.

“You might have asked,” Carson told him leaning his head back and giving John even greater access.

“Hey Carson,” John whispered into his ear, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of Carson’s ear. “Want a blow job?”

“Oh god, yes,” Carson moaned, trying to lean back and brace himself on his one good arm.

“Here, stand up,” John said patting his leg. When Carson did, John pulled Carson’s pants and shorts down to his knees. “Now lay back.”

When Carson was lying back on the bed, his legs hanging off the edge, John moved up, kissing a trail from Carson’s knee to the crease of his leg. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner,” he said into Carson’s hipbone as he traced the protrusion with his tongue.

“Well,” Carson said magnanimously, “As long as you could see your way clear to handling this little oversight.” He closed his eyes, very content to let John have his wicked way with his body.

“How very forgiving of you,” John laughed as he trailed across to the other hipbone.

Carson was half-hard already, so John took the chance to swallow him root to tip while he still could. He swirled his tongue around the head and then rolled his tongue and slid it, full-contact, along the base of Carson’s cock.

“Oh good god…” Carson whispered, his head rolling back and forth on the mattress.

As John worked his head up and down he could feel Carson grown in both length and girth. He drew back before he could choke and sucked hard on the tip. He wasn’t sure but it sounded like Carson tried to say something but all that came out was an incoherent, “guh…” that ended in a sharply inhaled breath,

John released Carson’s cock, taking it in his hand and then kissing down the vein that ran along the left side. “Is your mood improving yet?” he mumbled against Carson’s balls. John smiled as the vibration caused Carson to shiver.

Carson raised his head to look down to where John was sucking one of his balls into his mouth as his hand stroked lazily up and down from root to tip. The visual and tactile stimulation combined and left him feel overwhelmed and he found that he couldn’t keep his head up. He wished he’d had the foresight to stack the pillows behind him.

As if reading his mind, John looked up, letting Carson’s testicle slide slowly out of his mouth. “Hold that thought.” John scrambled up to grab both pillows, putting them behind Carson’s head, folding the top one in half to elevate him a little more.

Carson watched as John bent back down, slowly sliding just the tip of his cock back into his mouth and licking the slit over and over. Soon John added just enough pressure around the base of his cock and slid both his mouth and hand in a rhythm that Carson found both mesmerizing to watch and exhilarating to feel.

“Oh god! John!” was the only warning John got before he felt Carson’s balls draw up and felt Carson coming in long, hot streams that hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, which only seemed to increase Carson’s respiration rate.

When it was over, John could feel every muscle in Carson’s body go lax. John crawled up next to him and pulled him into his arms. Careful of his banged up arm, John pulled Carson onto his left side and kissed him. “Is your mood better now?” he repeated, aware that he’d never gotten an answer the first time.

A lazy, “Oh, aye. I’m sure it is,” was Carson’s response and since he was lying on his left side and he couldn’t wrap his right arm around John, he just grabbed the fabric of John’s t-shirt loosely in his right fist. After a good ten minutes of quiet, where the only sound in the room was two even breathing patterns, Carson finally said, “And you? What do you want?”

John kissed his nose. “For you to remember to ask me that later tonight. Right now I’ve got to get to a meeting with Lorne and Cadman.” John kissed him again and pushed himself up off the bed.

Carson sighed and watched him head for the door. “Um… John… before you go…”

John turned back and raised an eyebrow.

“I think I’m going to need a hand changing into a fresh pair of pants… I think we’ve pretty much done these in.” Carson smiled bashfully.

John sat back on the floor, untying the shoes he’s had to fight Carson to be allowed to tie that morning. “I don’t know… I think it’s a good look for you.”

Carson grabbed one of the pillows from behind him and lazily thwacked John in the head with it, his aim somewhat compromised from having to use his left hand.

He hurt a little. Would for a while. But at that particular moment, all was right with his world.

Comments

[skeeterses.livejournal.com]

Oh, dearie! Poor Carson.

I loved how John tried to fix everything he could.

Great job =) I love all your John/Carson fics!

[smallwaldo.livejournal.com]

Yeah, John doesn't cope with 'helpless' well. He's a do-er.

I'm so glad you like my work! Thanks so much for the feedback. :)

[slashpuppy.livejournal.com]

Nice story. I like the John/Carson dynamic. They are actually kinda cute together.

Mind you, Rodney gets the best line "You know you could always use your left hand!" *chortle* :-)

[smallwaldo.livejournal.com]

They're adorable together. :) Or at least they could be, if you know... :)

And yeah, Rodney gets the good line. But let's face it, he's the only one in Atlantis - possibly in the Pegasus Galaxy - who would say it straight out like that. :)

Glad you liked the story. :)

[hth-the-first.livejournal.com]

Got here via your DiversiFICation nomination. Doctors really do make the worst patients, don't they? It's always interesting to see a character respond to being on their own ground but from a whole different perspective. I can totally believe that John makes a great nurse -- he's so matter-of-fact, so loyal in that laid-back, pragmatic, stubborn way. I want him to come over and take care of me every time I get sick! Thanks for this story.

[(Anonymous)]

Loved this. Great John/Carson relationship, with banter, teasing and real caring. I liked that they both got to see the other side of being injured and maybe got some insight into why John's always trying to get out of the infirmary and Carson often seems to be mother-henning John. Poor Carson- the one thing he really needs is the only thing John doesn't think to take care of. I think he's made up for it now though ;).

Laura.