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myficsTitle: Modern Medicine 3/6
Co-Written With: The absolutely lovely and talented![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dancinbutterfly
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Todd/Doug, JD/Elliot, Keith/Elliot, Turk/Carla.
Word Count: 4,252 of 31,805
Summary: After the events of My Self-Improvement, Doug and Todd try to hold together their budding relationship while JD tries to win back an old one.
Disclaimer: Bill Lawrence & NBC own Scrubs. Not for profit.
Thank You: Toagirlcalledkil for the amazing beta and dancinbutterfly for co-writing and kicking me into shape.
Todd takes a deep breath and tries to remember how to think. He’s still half-punch-drunk from the orgasm (and damn, he’d buy Doug a bag of lollipops tomorrow, except he won’t because he just went and ruined it all, and even if he did, Doug probably wouldn’t want them now), but the rest of him is in the middle of what he can only describe as a panic attack. He hasn’t had one since he was a kid, and until now he’d thought he’d outgrown them.
“Don’t,” he tells Doug. “Please.” Todd rarely says please. It’s not because he wants to be rude, it’s just not his style. “Please” sounds like begging, and The Todd does not beg. Ever. But he’s begging now, and he’s not even sure what he’s begging for. For Doug to stop, yes, but Doug already did. He’s not doing anything that Todd doesn’t want him to do right now. He’s just holding him, and Todd likes that. It’s warm and it’s comforting. So he doesn’t want Doug to stop. Except he does, he totally and completely does, because he can’t take it anymore.
Why doesn’t Doug stop wasting his time on a hopeless case? Todd can’t stand the way Doug just keeps holding him, like he’s going to be okay, because he’s not. Not now, not ever, and Doug should just stop waiting on that to happen.
“What do you want me to stop doing?” Doug asks softly.
“Everything,” Todd tells him, tightening the grip of his arms circled around his knees.
Doug lets go and sits up, but Todd can still feel his eyes burning straight through into his soul. He wonders if Doug can see the stains there that Todd himself does every time he looks into a mirror.
“I’m sorry,” Doug tells him. “You shouldn’t be, but I am. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Todd chuckles bitterly. “You were pushing, all right.”
“Todd, now is not the time for entendres, single, double, or otherwise,” Doug says gently.
Todd shrugs and scoots towards the far side of the bed. He doesn’t much feel like being in close contact with anyone right now. “I thought you said you liked my entendres.”
“I do, but not when you’re using them as an excuse not to talk to me. Not when you’re using them as walls to hide behind like you need…protection from me.”
Todd bites his lip so hard that he tastes copper tang against his tongue.
“But that’s always,” Todd tells him. “Every single minute of every single day, I’m fighting.”
“Fighting what?”
“Myself,” Todd says. God, he hates talking about his feelings. But he feels guilty about stopping the sex (even if Doug says he shouldn’t), so he at least owes Doug an explanation. “If…If I don’t hide, then people would see, and The Todd couldn’t handle that.”
“But what if what they see isn’t what you think?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Todd sighs. “They still see.”
Doug touches his shoulder, and Todd tries, he really tries not to jerk away, but he can’t help it. No one was ever supposed to see this side of him. Until that day in the morgue, Todd was content to go through life having random one-night stands and never emotionally connecting to another person. He had grand plans of dying alone and being eaten by cats before the cops found his body.
But then Doug had offered him a chance to be something else, something better. And Todd had taken it, because as scared as he was, it seemed like a chance worth taking. But no one told Todd it would be this hard to open up and let Doug see what was inside of him. It makes Todd himself sick, what did he expect would happen when he showed it to Doug?
“Todd, please,” Doug whispers. “I don’t want to push. If you tell me to stop, I will. I did. But I want to help you, and I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. And I mean that in the emotional way, not the sex way.”
“I can’t,” Todd tells him.
“You can. You’re The Todd. You can do whatever you want.”
“What if my insides aren’t as pretty as the out?”
“No one’s are,” Doug says softly. “And I spend pretty much all day looking at people’s insides.”
That’s true, but not exactly what Todd meant. He knows that Doug knows what he means, and he knows what Doug is trying to say, but Todd doesn’t feel very reassured.
“Todd, if we never make it to sex, I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with you being unhappy and not letting me help you. I can’t stand that.”
“I can’t stand you trying to help,” Todd counters.
Doug takes a deep breath. “Okay, so let someone else help. But don’t try to take it on by yourself.”
“Done pretty good so far in life.”
“You have,” Doug agrees. “You’ve done amazingly well. But you’re not whole yet, Todd. There’s still part of you hurting, and until you get help for that part, this is never going to stop. Please. If you won’t let the help come from me, then let it come from Molly. Or someone else, I don’t care. I just can’t stand seeing you miserable like this.”
“Do you love me?” Todd asks suddenly. He’s not sure where the question came from. He hadn’t been planning on asking it, or even thinking about it. In fact, he’d been trying not to think at all. And as soon as he asks the question, he wants to reach out into the air and grab the words, pull them back inside, keep them secret and safe inside his soul. He doesn’t want to know the answer, not now, not ever, because no matter what it is, it’s going to hurt. If it’s no, Todd doesn’t know how he’ll be able to take it, and if it’s yes…that’s going to be worse.
It’s one thing to have someone love you if you’re a happy, normal person who can love them back. But Todd can’t, not now, and maybe not even after lots of therapy with Molly. He wants to be able to, but he’s not ready, and if Doug loves him and Todd has to add on guilt for not being able to return his feelings, then he’s going to crumble from the pressure. He shouldn’t have started this at all. He should’ve told Doug thanks but no thanks that day in the morgue and left it at that. He’s not ready for this.
Doug leans over him to meet his eyes and says seriously, “Yes.”
Todd flinches.
“I love you, Todd. And you can hate me for that if you have to, but I don’t care. I love you, and I’m not going to stop, no matter how much you want me to. I don’t want to put more pressure on you, but this is one thing you’re just going to have to deal with. I love you. I love your jokes, I love your tattoo, and I love your eyes. I love everything about you, even the parts you say you don’t want me to see. I will do whatever I can to support you and help you, but I won’t take that back.” Doug crosses his arms across his chest, and Todd rolls over to see him face-to-face again.
“Asparagus,” Todd says weakly.
Doug sighs. “Okay.”
“You’re disappointed,” Todd points out.
Doug shakes his head. “No, I’m not. I’m mad at myself for pushing you, but I’m not disappointed in you. I’m proud of you, remember?” He points to the floor where Todd’s flag pin lies, glinting against his green scrubs.
“We’re both naked,” Todd says. It’s true. They are. Most conversations of this magnitude are not to be held while nude, Todd has found.
“We are,” Doug agrees. “I suppose this is a stupid question, but I don’t guess you want to spend the night here, do you? We wouldn’t have to do anything. We could talk or watch TV. Or we could play Pictionary. Or Monopoly. I’m great at Monopoly.”
“I can’t,” Todd says, and sits up. He suddenly feels more naked than he ever has in his life, and he really wants to get some clothes on.
“Okay,” Doug says amicably enough.
“Maybe…maybe one day soon,” Todd offers.
“Okay,” Doug says with a shrug.
Todd finishes pulling on his top. “Thank you for the offer, though?”
“Yeah.”
Todd’s panic attack comes back full-force as soon as he steps into the hallway outside Doug’s apartment, and it takes him twenty minutes to calm down enough to drive.
***
Doug has always been a persistent guy. There are plenty of things that he has no talent for, but one thing he has always been great at is trying. He wasn't a good doctor. He can see that now. But he'd like to take a poll around the hospital and see how many people there would've stuck around to do a third year internship like he did. One of his best qualities has always been his ability to keep throwing himself at something until it bends or breaks and gives in.
So this thing with Todd? Yeah, he screwed that up really, really badly. He knows that now, too. But he's not giving up, not now, not ever.
Doug's just going to have to put his mind to it and come up with a way to show Todd that he's not going anywhere.
***
Todd opens his locker door to grab a pair of clean scrubs and finds a large stocking hanging inside. It's not even Christmas anymore, he thinks, but takes it out carefully and peers inside.
Resting at the bottom of the stocking is a hand-made model airplane. The paint's a little off, the workmanship isn't perfect, and there's a note attached to it.
"Put this on your shelf so that you'll always remember that you're normal everyday. Love, Doug."
Todd sighs and sets the plane down just as Doug steps out from the corner of the locker room.
"Why do you keep doing this?" Todd asks, gesturing to the plane. Gesturing to himself.
"Because you're worth it," Doug says simply.
Todd frowns. "You can't know that."
"I do know it," Doug insists, and Todd feels his stomach clench at the thought.
"Then you're either crazy or blind," Todd tells him.
Doug shrugs. "Maybe I'm both. I don't care. Whatever I am, I'm yours and I like it."
Todd laughs bitterly. "What if I don't want you?"
Doug takes a step closer, and Todd takes a step back to compensate. His back hits the lockers that line the wall by the door, and he gasps as one of the protruding handles digs into his flesh.
"Todd, look at me." Todd can hardly bring himself to meet Doug's eyes. "Does it look like I care? You keep trying to push me away. I guess now you're trying to hurt me, too. But I'm not going anywhere. You want me gone? You're gonna have to kill me or something, and even then, I'll probably come back as a ghost and haunt you."
"Why would you do that? If you were a ghost, you could go anywhere or do anything you wanted."
"But what I want is you. A happy you. A whole you. And I'm trying to help you make that happen."
"Never going to happen," Todd says bluntly.
"They said I'd never be a doctor, either," Doug tells him. "And, okay, so I work in the morgue because I killed all of my patients, but I'm good at what I do now, so technically they were wrong."
"You can't get off on a technicality with this," Todd reminds him.
"So I'll just have to try harder with you than I did with becoming a doctor." Doug crosses his arms across his chest, and Todd can't help but think that he kind of likes this side of Doug. "And you'll have to try, too. And so will Molly. It'll have to be a team effort. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."
"So say we try. Say we try our asses off. And say we fail. What then?"
"Then it's better to have loved and lost, isn't it?" Doug asks, and his voice takes on a hint of desperation to it. Todd kind of wants to throw up.
"Not when it leaves you feeling…" Todd stops. He's not getting into this, not here, not now, and probably not even ever. "No," he says.
It's not better. It leaves you hollow and worse than before. Trying leads to hope, and hope leads to being let down. And let down leads to places that Todd doesn't even want to contemplate because they end in glinting metal and blood-stained wrists and dying in a pool of your own blood.
No, he's not taking that chance. And Doug shouldn't want to be with someone who thinks about things like that.
"Todd," Doug says softly.
"No," Todd repeats. He needs to talk to Molly. She told him to let Doug in, but he doesn't think she understands the magnitude of that action.
"I'm going to keep trying, you know," Doug tells him, and his voice is so...even that it takes Todd aback. There's no malice in his voice, no sadness either. There's just fact, simple truth, and Todd vaguely wonders how Doug can have such honesty come out of his mouth and not choke on it.
"I know," Todd acknowledges. "I'm going to keep saying no."
"I know that, too."
Doug leaves before Todd can think of anything to say, but he doesn't mind because he has no idea what to say to that.
He changes hurriedly into a fresh pair of scrubs and promises himself that he'll throw the stocking and plane away later, but ends up putting the plane on the shelf above his bed that night anyway.
***
Okay. So, gifts apparently are not going to work, no matter how meaningful. That's okay. Doug's trying to pay his student loans off anyway so not having to keep thinking of inexpensive presents to give Todd is sort of a good thing.
Doug will just have to think of something else to do to show Todd that he cares about him. Actions speak louder than stockings, anyway. And what was he thinking? It's January fifteenth for crying out loud.
For his next attempt, he needs a little help, so he recruits JD and Turk to help him. They're always doing this thing called "World's Most Giant Doctor" where they stand on each other's shoulders and put on an over-sized lab coat. And they say that Doug is the gay one.
Doug decides that he needs to get in on this, and spends an entire day planning with JD and Turk to form the World's Most Giant Doctor Who's In Love With Todd. Doug's never had the greatest balance, and sitting atop JD's shoulders while he, in turn, sits atop Turk's is pretty much the most vertigo-inducing experience of Doug's life, but after a few practice runs he gets the hang of it.
"Stop squeezing your thighs so hard!" JD shouts up to him as they totter precariously into position outside the front door of the hospital. Todd should be showing up any second now.
"Well, I'm sorry," Doug huffs. "You try being on top like this." From somewhere below JD, Doug hears Turk fail to repress what can only be described as a manly giggle. "Oh, ha ha," Doug says, and carefully loosens his grip on JD's poor ears. He already feels less stable, but they're both doing Doug a favor here, and the least he can do is let them have their immature humor and not snap their necks between his abnormally strong thighs.
"Here he comes, shhh!" Turk calls up to him, and Doug hears the snap of him shutting up the lab coat.
Sure enough, Todd emerges from the hospital, and his head tilts back as he follows the white coat up to Doug's face.
"H-hi," Doug says.
"Say the line!" JD hisses.
"Excuse me, could you help me?" Doug asks. "I'm waiting on my boyfriend, and he's late. I can't go inside because this hospital is size-ist. Could you check to see if he's still in surgery? He's a very hot surgeon named Todd, and he has a tattoo on his arm that says 'DOC.'" Doug winces. It's a very un-Doug thing to say if he does think so himself, but that was one of the things he had to promise JD and Turk he'd do in order to get them to help him.
Todd shakes his head and starts walking away.
"Wait, Todd—" Doug begins and moves to follow Todd. Except he's not exactly in a position to move on his own, and that's it, they're all three toppling over into the bushes and ow Doug's pretty sure he's got a branch sticking in a place that…well, ironic does not begin to cover it.
"Damn it, Doug!" JD exclaims as he sits up and spits out a mouthful of leaves.
"I think I broke my ass," Turk groans.
"Sorry," Doug says miserably. He'd really thought this would work.
JD watches him for a second, then pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he tells him. "I wanted it to work, too."
"Yeah," Doug says as he stands up and tries to brush the dirt out of his hair.
"No, I did," JD insists. "You two were good together."
"Yeah," Turk agrees, standing up with a wince. "Really."
"Were?" Doug asks softly, and oh, hell, he's not going to get weepy over this. He's going to get Todd back, damn it, and negative thinking isn't going to help matters.
"Are," Turk hurriedly clarifies. "Are good together."
"Yeah," JD says with a nod. "Are. Not were. Because were implies…am I talking too loud? Because I feel like I'm speaking really loudly."
Doug nods. "I know what you meant. Thanks for trying to help."
"Yeah, no problem," JD says, and gives his arm a gentle pat. "We're here if you…you know, need us."
And the thing is, Doug does know that. And it helps, a little bit, to know that he's not the only one who's hoping that he and Todd can make it work. It's like having his own personal cheering section, and even though Doug never played sports in high school, he often fantasized about being the star quarterback on the football team and having a crowd full of people rooting him on as he tried to score.
Which…okay, if Todd were here he'd have a field day with that particular metaphor, and it makes Doug kind of sad(der) that he's not.
"Thanks," Doug says, handing JD the giant stethoscope he'd been wearing before they all fell over.
As he heads back into the hospital to finish his shift, he's already decided that his next gesture is going to be something a little more serious.
***
Doug spends every day for a week going to Ted's office to practice singing with the Worthless Peons. He's never been the greatest singer in the world, but he's adequate, and that's all that really counts for this particular gesture.
Ted helps him pick out a song and then they practice it until Doug thinks he never wants to hear it again, and then they practice it some more. By the end of the week, Doug's taking a teaspoon of honey each morning just to keep his vocal chords from starting a rebellion, but they actually sound pretty good, and Doug's kind of proud of that.
"I think we're ready," Doug says happily to the group on Sunday afternoon.
"Rock on!" Ted says, with a little too much gusto. When Doug gives him a 'really?' look, Ted says, "Go us?" a little too weakly, then flops down into his chair.
They are. They're ready. Doug just hopes it works this time.
***
Todd walks into the hospital bright and early Monday morning to start his shift, and suddenly hears voices harmonizing. He looks around and spots Ted and his friends singing in one corner of the lobby, which isn't an unusual sight.
"Hi, guys," he says to them, nodding his approval at their combined voices. They sound better today than they usually do, and on most days they're pretty good, so that's saying something. But then he hears Doug's voice join in, and oh no, no way is Doug doing this here in front of all these people.
The part of Todd that isn't out-right horrified thinks that they really do sound pretty good, but most of him is rapidly moving from being mortified into being pissed off.
No means no. When is Doug going to learn that? And here in front of everyone? Their coworkers, patients, hell, half the entire county could be here for all Todd knows.
He stands there for as long as it takes for his feet to get his brain's message of Retreat! Retreat! and then he makes his way through the crowd that has assembled to watch the singing.
In the mostly empty hallway, he doubles over and gasps for breath as he tries not to think. Fuck. Now's not the best time for a panic attack, but apparently some part of his body didn't get that message because here he is, heartbeat rising in his throat and paranoia creeping up his neck.
He hears the singing stop abruptly and he knows he should really get the hell out of here because Doug's going to come looking for him, but he can hardly move. It's like his entire body has just shut down on him and all he can do is stand there wishing things were different.
"Todd?" Doug asks as he steps into the hallway.
"Go away."
"No."
"Please," Todd says. There's that word again, that stupid begging that Todd has never done before in his life but seems to do all the time when Doug's around.
"Todd—"
"Asparagus!" Todd says as loud as he can make his voice go. It's not very loud at all since he's still trying to breathe, but it makes Doug stop.
"I…"
"Why won't you just stop?" Todd asks. "I said no, but you keep pushing. You know who else kept pushing after I said no? After I said please? My mom."
Doug stares at him looking horrified. "I didn't mean to…I was just trying…"
"Everyone's trying, aren't they?" Todd snaps. "Everyone's trying to fix Todd. Maybe I don't want them to."
"But you need—"
"Oh, so you know what I need, do you? You spend five minutes on the Internet and suddenly you think you get me. Well, guess what? You don't."
"I never said I understood—"
"And I never said I wanted you to. I was fine, Doug. I was happy. Okay, maybe not happy, but I was okay. I was living my life, I was helping people. My life sucked but I was doing my damndest to make sure other people's didn't. And you know what? It helped. It made me feel like at least there was a reason I was still around. And then you waltz in with your stupid presents and your stupid life and you dangle this stupid fucking hope in front of me like it's something I can actually have if I just try."
"I…"
"Well, guess what, Doc? Some wounds don't heal. Sometimes you just have to cut the useless limb off and keep living without it."
"Am I a useless limb?" Doug asks, and it's the most vulnerable Todd has ever heard him. He almost wants to stop, but he can't.
"What do you think?" he snarls. "You work in the morgue. You're not even a real doctor, what makes you think you can be a real boyfriend?"
"I…" Doug says, and oh, great, now he's going to fucking cry, like he's the one that has that right here.
"You're the medical equivalent of the Janitor, do you know that? All you do is go around cleaning up our messes."
Todd can't bear to look at Doug's face, because he swears he can actually hear, actually fucking hear, Doug's heart breaking.
"I'm sorry," Doug whispers.
"Oh, you're sorry. You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're all fucking sorry. It's nice to pretend that the words aren't as useless as you are, isn't it?"
He doesn't look up, but he feels Doug's footsteps as they retreat away from him, the vibrations against Todd's own feet lessening the farther he walks away, and it's not until they die away completely that he allows himself to cry.
Todd's not a crying man. He's cried maybe four times in his entire life, and two of those times were at funerals. But fuck it, how's he supposed to do this? Fuck dealing with Doug, how the hell is he supposed to fucking live with this thing inside him, this constant painful reminder of where he's been and what he's had and everything he's lost?
The shouting he's just done seems to have driven the panic attack away, and he's grateful for that at least, but as he stumbles his way into the bathroom thinking only of calling Molly, he can't help but think that maybe small favors are really just that. Small favors in a world of shit.
Click here to go to part 4.
Co-Written With: The absolutely lovely and talented
dancinbutterflyRating: R
Pairing(s): Todd/Doug, JD/Elliot, Keith/Elliot, Turk/Carla.
Word Count: 4,252 of 31,805
Summary: After the events of My Self-Improvement, Doug and Todd try to hold together their budding relationship while JD tries to win back an old one.
Disclaimer: Bill Lawrence & NBC own Scrubs. Not for profit.
Thank You: To
agirlcalledkil for the amazing beta and dancinbutterfly for co-writing and kicking me into shape.Todd takes a deep breath and tries to remember how to think. He’s still half-punch-drunk from the orgasm (and damn, he’d buy Doug a bag of lollipops tomorrow, except he won’t because he just went and ruined it all, and even if he did, Doug probably wouldn’t want them now), but the rest of him is in the middle of what he can only describe as a panic attack. He hasn’t had one since he was a kid, and until now he’d thought he’d outgrown them.
“Don’t,” he tells Doug. “Please.” Todd rarely says please. It’s not because he wants to be rude, it’s just not his style. “Please” sounds like begging, and The Todd does not beg. Ever. But he’s begging now, and he’s not even sure what he’s begging for. For Doug to stop, yes, but Doug already did. He’s not doing anything that Todd doesn’t want him to do right now. He’s just holding him, and Todd likes that. It’s warm and it’s comforting. So he doesn’t want Doug to stop. Except he does, he totally and completely does, because he can’t take it anymore.
Why doesn’t Doug stop wasting his time on a hopeless case? Todd can’t stand the way Doug just keeps holding him, like he’s going to be okay, because he’s not. Not now, not ever, and Doug should just stop waiting on that to happen.
“What do you want me to stop doing?” Doug asks softly.
“Everything,” Todd tells him, tightening the grip of his arms circled around his knees.
Doug lets go and sits up, but Todd can still feel his eyes burning straight through into his soul. He wonders if Doug can see the stains there that Todd himself does every time he looks into a mirror.
“I’m sorry,” Doug tells him. “You shouldn’t be, but I am. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Todd chuckles bitterly. “You were pushing, all right.”
“Todd, now is not the time for entendres, single, double, or otherwise,” Doug says gently.
Todd shrugs and scoots towards the far side of the bed. He doesn’t much feel like being in close contact with anyone right now. “I thought you said you liked my entendres.”
“I do, but not when you’re using them as an excuse not to talk to me. Not when you’re using them as walls to hide behind like you need…protection from me.”
Todd bites his lip so hard that he tastes copper tang against his tongue.
“But that’s always,” Todd tells him. “Every single minute of every single day, I’m fighting.”
“Fighting what?”
“Myself,” Todd says. God, he hates talking about his feelings. But he feels guilty about stopping the sex (even if Doug says he shouldn’t), so he at least owes Doug an explanation. “If…If I don’t hide, then people would see, and The Todd couldn’t handle that.”
“But what if what they see isn’t what you think?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Todd sighs. “They still see.”
Doug touches his shoulder, and Todd tries, he really tries not to jerk away, but he can’t help it. No one was ever supposed to see this side of him. Until that day in the morgue, Todd was content to go through life having random one-night stands and never emotionally connecting to another person. He had grand plans of dying alone and being eaten by cats before the cops found his body.
But then Doug had offered him a chance to be something else, something better. And Todd had taken it, because as scared as he was, it seemed like a chance worth taking. But no one told Todd it would be this hard to open up and let Doug see what was inside of him. It makes Todd himself sick, what did he expect would happen when he showed it to Doug?
“Todd, please,” Doug whispers. “I don’t want to push. If you tell me to stop, I will. I did. But I want to help you, and I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. And I mean that in the emotional way, not the sex way.”
“I can’t,” Todd tells him.
“You can. You’re The Todd. You can do whatever you want.”
“What if my insides aren’t as pretty as the out?”
“No one’s are,” Doug says softly. “And I spend pretty much all day looking at people’s insides.”
That’s true, but not exactly what Todd meant. He knows that Doug knows what he means, and he knows what Doug is trying to say, but Todd doesn’t feel very reassured.
“Todd, if we never make it to sex, I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with you being unhappy and not letting me help you. I can’t stand that.”
“I can’t stand you trying to help,” Todd counters.
Doug takes a deep breath. “Okay, so let someone else help. But don’t try to take it on by yourself.”
“Done pretty good so far in life.”
“You have,” Doug agrees. “You’ve done amazingly well. But you’re not whole yet, Todd. There’s still part of you hurting, and until you get help for that part, this is never going to stop. Please. If you won’t let the help come from me, then let it come from Molly. Or someone else, I don’t care. I just can’t stand seeing you miserable like this.”
“Do you love me?” Todd asks suddenly. He’s not sure where the question came from. He hadn’t been planning on asking it, or even thinking about it. In fact, he’d been trying not to think at all. And as soon as he asks the question, he wants to reach out into the air and grab the words, pull them back inside, keep them secret and safe inside his soul. He doesn’t want to know the answer, not now, not ever, because no matter what it is, it’s going to hurt. If it’s no, Todd doesn’t know how he’ll be able to take it, and if it’s yes…that’s going to be worse.
It’s one thing to have someone love you if you’re a happy, normal person who can love them back. But Todd can’t, not now, and maybe not even after lots of therapy with Molly. He wants to be able to, but he’s not ready, and if Doug loves him and Todd has to add on guilt for not being able to return his feelings, then he’s going to crumble from the pressure. He shouldn’t have started this at all. He should’ve told Doug thanks but no thanks that day in the morgue and left it at that. He’s not ready for this.
Doug leans over him to meet his eyes and says seriously, “Yes.”
Todd flinches.
“I love you, Todd. And you can hate me for that if you have to, but I don’t care. I love you, and I’m not going to stop, no matter how much you want me to. I don’t want to put more pressure on you, but this is one thing you’re just going to have to deal with. I love you. I love your jokes, I love your tattoo, and I love your eyes. I love everything about you, even the parts you say you don’t want me to see. I will do whatever I can to support you and help you, but I won’t take that back.” Doug crosses his arms across his chest, and Todd rolls over to see him face-to-face again.
“Asparagus,” Todd says weakly.
Doug sighs. “Okay.”
“You’re disappointed,” Todd points out.
Doug shakes his head. “No, I’m not. I’m mad at myself for pushing you, but I’m not disappointed in you. I’m proud of you, remember?” He points to the floor where Todd’s flag pin lies, glinting against his green scrubs.
“We’re both naked,” Todd says. It’s true. They are. Most conversations of this magnitude are not to be held while nude, Todd has found.
“We are,” Doug agrees. “I suppose this is a stupid question, but I don’t guess you want to spend the night here, do you? We wouldn’t have to do anything. We could talk or watch TV. Or we could play Pictionary. Or Monopoly. I’m great at Monopoly.”
“I can’t,” Todd says, and sits up. He suddenly feels more naked than he ever has in his life, and he really wants to get some clothes on.
“Okay,” Doug says amicably enough.
“Maybe…maybe one day soon,” Todd offers.
“Okay,” Doug says with a shrug.
Todd finishes pulling on his top. “Thank you for the offer, though?”
“Yeah.”
Todd’s panic attack comes back full-force as soon as he steps into the hallway outside Doug’s apartment, and it takes him twenty minutes to calm down enough to drive.
Doug has always been a persistent guy. There are plenty of things that he has no talent for, but one thing he has always been great at is trying. He wasn't a good doctor. He can see that now. But he'd like to take a poll around the hospital and see how many people there would've stuck around to do a third year internship like he did. One of his best qualities has always been his ability to keep throwing himself at something until it bends or breaks and gives in.
So this thing with Todd? Yeah, he screwed that up really, really badly. He knows that now, too. But he's not giving up, not now, not ever.
Doug's just going to have to put his mind to it and come up with a way to show Todd that he's not going anywhere.
Todd opens his locker door to grab a pair of clean scrubs and finds a large stocking hanging inside. It's not even Christmas anymore, he thinks, but takes it out carefully and peers inside.
Resting at the bottom of the stocking is a hand-made model airplane. The paint's a little off, the workmanship isn't perfect, and there's a note attached to it.
"Put this on your shelf so that you'll always remember that you're normal everyday. Love, Doug."
Todd sighs and sets the plane down just as Doug steps out from the corner of the locker room.
"Why do you keep doing this?" Todd asks, gesturing to the plane. Gesturing to himself.
"Because you're worth it," Doug says simply.
Todd frowns. "You can't know that."
"I do know it," Doug insists, and Todd feels his stomach clench at the thought.
"Then you're either crazy or blind," Todd tells him.
Doug shrugs. "Maybe I'm both. I don't care. Whatever I am, I'm yours and I like it."
Todd laughs bitterly. "What if I don't want you?"
Doug takes a step closer, and Todd takes a step back to compensate. His back hits the lockers that line the wall by the door, and he gasps as one of the protruding handles digs into his flesh.
"Todd, look at me." Todd can hardly bring himself to meet Doug's eyes. "Does it look like I care? You keep trying to push me away. I guess now you're trying to hurt me, too. But I'm not going anywhere. You want me gone? You're gonna have to kill me or something, and even then, I'll probably come back as a ghost and haunt you."
"Why would you do that? If you were a ghost, you could go anywhere or do anything you wanted."
"But what I want is you. A happy you. A whole you. And I'm trying to help you make that happen."
"Never going to happen," Todd says bluntly.
"They said I'd never be a doctor, either," Doug tells him. "And, okay, so I work in the morgue because I killed all of my patients, but I'm good at what I do now, so technically they were wrong."
"You can't get off on a technicality with this," Todd reminds him.
"So I'll just have to try harder with you than I did with becoming a doctor." Doug crosses his arms across his chest, and Todd can't help but think that he kind of likes this side of Doug. "And you'll have to try, too. And so will Molly. It'll have to be a team effort. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."
"So say we try. Say we try our asses off. And say we fail. What then?"
"Then it's better to have loved and lost, isn't it?" Doug asks, and his voice takes on a hint of desperation to it. Todd kind of wants to throw up.
"Not when it leaves you feeling…" Todd stops. He's not getting into this, not here, not now, and probably not even ever. "No," he says.
It's not better. It leaves you hollow and worse than before. Trying leads to hope, and hope leads to being let down. And let down leads to places that Todd doesn't even want to contemplate because they end in glinting metal and blood-stained wrists and dying in a pool of your own blood.
No, he's not taking that chance. And Doug shouldn't want to be with someone who thinks about things like that.
"Todd," Doug says softly.
"No," Todd repeats. He needs to talk to Molly. She told him to let Doug in, but he doesn't think she understands the magnitude of that action.
"I'm going to keep trying, you know," Doug tells him, and his voice is so...even that it takes Todd aback. There's no malice in his voice, no sadness either. There's just fact, simple truth, and Todd vaguely wonders how Doug can have such honesty come out of his mouth and not choke on it.
"I know," Todd acknowledges. "I'm going to keep saying no."
"I know that, too."
Doug leaves before Todd can think of anything to say, but he doesn't mind because he has no idea what to say to that.
He changes hurriedly into a fresh pair of scrubs and promises himself that he'll throw the stocking and plane away later, but ends up putting the plane on the shelf above his bed that night anyway.
Okay. So, gifts apparently are not going to work, no matter how meaningful. That's okay. Doug's trying to pay his student loans off anyway so not having to keep thinking of inexpensive presents to give Todd is sort of a good thing.
Doug will just have to think of something else to do to show Todd that he cares about him. Actions speak louder than stockings, anyway. And what was he thinking? It's January fifteenth for crying out loud.
For his next attempt, he needs a little help, so he recruits JD and Turk to help him. They're always doing this thing called "World's Most Giant Doctor" where they stand on each other's shoulders and put on an over-sized lab coat. And they say that Doug is the gay one.
Doug decides that he needs to get in on this, and spends an entire day planning with JD and Turk to form the World's Most Giant Doctor Who's In Love With Todd. Doug's never had the greatest balance, and sitting atop JD's shoulders while he, in turn, sits atop Turk's is pretty much the most vertigo-inducing experience of Doug's life, but after a few practice runs he gets the hang of it.
"Stop squeezing your thighs so hard!" JD shouts up to him as they totter precariously into position outside the front door of the hospital. Todd should be showing up any second now.
"Well, I'm sorry," Doug huffs. "You try being on top like this." From somewhere below JD, Doug hears Turk fail to repress what can only be described as a manly giggle. "Oh, ha ha," Doug says, and carefully loosens his grip on JD's poor ears. He already feels less stable, but they're both doing Doug a favor here, and the least he can do is let them have their immature humor and not snap their necks between his abnormally strong thighs.
"Here he comes, shhh!" Turk calls up to him, and Doug hears the snap of him shutting up the lab coat.
Sure enough, Todd emerges from the hospital, and his head tilts back as he follows the white coat up to Doug's face.
"H-hi," Doug says.
"Say the line!" JD hisses.
"Excuse me, could you help me?" Doug asks. "I'm waiting on my boyfriend, and he's late. I can't go inside because this hospital is size-ist. Could you check to see if he's still in surgery? He's a very hot surgeon named Todd, and he has a tattoo on his arm that says 'DOC.'" Doug winces. It's a very un-Doug thing to say if he does think so himself, but that was one of the things he had to promise JD and Turk he'd do in order to get them to help him.
Todd shakes his head and starts walking away.
"Wait, Todd—" Doug begins and moves to follow Todd. Except he's not exactly in a position to move on his own, and that's it, they're all three toppling over into the bushes and ow Doug's pretty sure he's got a branch sticking in a place that…well, ironic does not begin to cover it.
"Damn it, Doug!" JD exclaims as he sits up and spits out a mouthful of leaves.
"I think I broke my ass," Turk groans.
"Sorry," Doug says miserably. He'd really thought this would work.
JD watches him for a second, then pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he tells him. "I wanted it to work, too."
"Yeah," Doug says as he stands up and tries to brush the dirt out of his hair.
"No, I did," JD insists. "You two were good together."
"Yeah," Turk agrees, standing up with a wince. "Really."
"Were?" Doug asks softly, and oh, hell, he's not going to get weepy over this. He's going to get Todd back, damn it, and negative thinking isn't going to help matters.
"Are," Turk hurriedly clarifies. "Are good together."
"Yeah," JD says with a nod. "Are. Not were. Because were implies…am I talking too loud? Because I feel like I'm speaking really loudly."
Doug nods. "I know what you meant. Thanks for trying to help."
"Yeah, no problem," JD says, and gives his arm a gentle pat. "We're here if you…you know, need us."
And the thing is, Doug does know that. And it helps, a little bit, to know that he's not the only one who's hoping that he and Todd can make it work. It's like having his own personal cheering section, and even though Doug never played sports in high school, he often fantasized about being the star quarterback on the football team and having a crowd full of people rooting him on as he tried to score.
Which…okay, if Todd were here he'd have a field day with that particular metaphor, and it makes Doug kind of sad(der) that he's not.
"Thanks," Doug says, handing JD the giant stethoscope he'd been wearing before they all fell over.
As he heads back into the hospital to finish his shift, he's already decided that his next gesture is going to be something a little more serious.
Doug spends every day for a week going to Ted's office to practice singing with the Worthless Peons. He's never been the greatest singer in the world, but he's adequate, and that's all that really counts for this particular gesture.
Ted helps him pick out a song and then they practice it until Doug thinks he never wants to hear it again, and then they practice it some more. By the end of the week, Doug's taking a teaspoon of honey each morning just to keep his vocal chords from starting a rebellion, but they actually sound pretty good, and Doug's kind of proud of that.
"I think we're ready," Doug says happily to the group on Sunday afternoon.
"Rock on!" Ted says, with a little too much gusto. When Doug gives him a 'really?' look, Ted says, "Go us?" a little too weakly, then flops down into his chair.
They are. They're ready. Doug just hopes it works this time.
Todd walks into the hospital bright and early Monday morning to start his shift, and suddenly hears voices harmonizing. He looks around and spots Ted and his friends singing in one corner of the lobby, which isn't an unusual sight.
"Hi, guys," he says to them, nodding his approval at their combined voices. They sound better today than they usually do, and on most days they're pretty good, so that's saying something. But then he hears Doug's voice join in, and oh no, no way is Doug doing this here in front of all these people.
The part of Todd that isn't out-right horrified thinks that they really do sound pretty good, but most of him is rapidly moving from being mortified into being pissed off.
No means no. When is Doug going to learn that? And here in front of everyone? Their coworkers, patients, hell, half the entire county could be here for all Todd knows.
He stands there for as long as it takes for his feet to get his brain's message of Retreat! Retreat! and then he makes his way through the crowd that has assembled to watch the singing.
In the mostly empty hallway, he doubles over and gasps for breath as he tries not to think. Fuck. Now's not the best time for a panic attack, but apparently some part of his body didn't get that message because here he is, heartbeat rising in his throat and paranoia creeping up his neck.
He hears the singing stop abruptly and he knows he should really get the hell out of here because Doug's going to come looking for him, but he can hardly move. It's like his entire body has just shut down on him and all he can do is stand there wishing things were different.
"Todd?" Doug asks as he steps into the hallway.
"Go away."
"No."
"Please," Todd says. There's that word again, that stupid begging that Todd has never done before in his life but seems to do all the time when Doug's around.
"Todd—"
"Asparagus!" Todd says as loud as he can make his voice go. It's not very loud at all since he's still trying to breathe, but it makes Doug stop.
"I…"
"Why won't you just stop?" Todd asks. "I said no, but you keep pushing. You know who else kept pushing after I said no? After I said please? My mom."
Doug stares at him looking horrified. "I didn't mean to…I was just trying…"
"Everyone's trying, aren't they?" Todd snaps. "Everyone's trying to fix Todd. Maybe I don't want them to."
"But you need—"
"Oh, so you know what I need, do you? You spend five minutes on the Internet and suddenly you think you get me. Well, guess what? You don't."
"I never said I understood—"
"And I never said I wanted you to. I was fine, Doug. I was happy. Okay, maybe not happy, but I was okay. I was living my life, I was helping people. My life sucked but I was doing my damndest to make sure other people's didn't. And you know what? It helped. It made me feel like at least there was a reason I was still around. And then you waltz in with your stupid presents and your stupid life and you dangle this stupid fucking hope in front of me like it's something I can actually have if I just try."
"I…"
"Well, guess what, Doc? Some wounds don't heal. Sometimes you just have to cut the useless limb off and keep living without it."
"Am I a useless limb?" Doug asks, and it's the most vulnerable Todd has ever heard him. He almost wants to stop, but he can't.
"What do you think?" he snarls. "You work in the morgue. You're not even a real doctor, what makes you think you can be a real boyfriend?"
"I…" Doug says, and oh, great, now he's going to fucking cry, like he's the one that has that right here.
"You're the medical equivalent of the Janitor, do you know that? All you do is go around cleaning up our messes."
Todd can't bear to look at Doug's face, because he swears he can actually hear, actually fucking hear, Doug's heart breaking.
"I'm sorry," Doug whispers.
"Oh, you're sorry. You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're all fucking sorry. It's nice to pretend that the words aren't as useless as you are, isn't it?"
He doesn't look up, but he feels Doug's footsteps as they retreat away from him, the vibrations against Todd's own feet lessening the farther he walks away, and it's not until they die away completely that he allows himself to cry.
Todd's not a crying man. He's cried maybe four times in his entire life, and two of those times were at funerals. But fuck it, how's he supposed to do this? Fuck dealing with Doug, how the hell is he supposed to fucking live with this thing inside him, this constant painful reminder of where he's been and what he's had and everything he's lost?
The shouting he's just done seems to have driven the panic attack away, and he's grateful for that at least, but as he stumbles his way into the bathroom thinking only of calling Molly, he can't help but think that maybe small favors are really just that. Small favors in a world of shit.
Click here to go to part 4.
