Idiots - 1. Chapter 1

Nine times out of ten, if I’m in the emergency room at two o clock in the morning it’s because someone is a jackass. Either a jackass caused it or the person there is a jackass. Either way, it’s enough to drive a sane man into a rage after a certain point.

The worst part is, I have to empathize with them. If I look at them and say, “God you’re stupid. Did you really stick you dick in a toaster?” suddenly I’m a bad person. Fuck that. Some people are morons.

Even the decent people treat me like shit. Why? Because some jackass put them in the hospital emergency room at two o clock in the fucking morning. They don’t want to answer questions no more than I want to ask them.

I didn’t sign up for this. I wanted to snap one liners and look cool in sunglasses. Not get yelled at by an otherwise nice lady for doing my job while my partner makes a ‘quick five minute’ call for the fiftieth time tonight. Fuck I want a cigarette.

“Can’t you people just leave me alone? I told you I don’t want to press charges.”

Yes ma’am, I heard you the first hundred times. At least you didn’t yell in my ear this time.

“Ma’am, you know he’s just going to do this again. If you press charges then you start a paper trail. He may not spend more than a night in jail this time, but the next time he will go away for years, and we both know there will be a next time as I already stated.”

“Oh yeah, and what do you know!”

I tried my best not to give her a look that conveyed exactly what I was feeling. When she immediately rolled her eyes and looked away, I knew I had failed. But what do I know? I’ve just been doing this for five years. No way could I have seen this story play out before. Nuh uh, she’s special.

“Ma’am, I know you love this guy, but-“

“But nothing! He pays all the bills! I haven’t worked since the first kid was born! If you think I’m leaving my kids you’re crazy!”

She put her face in her hands and held her head, a couple sobs creeping out. Half her face was fucking purple. I’m sure she fell down the stairs. That last step is always a bitch.

“Honestly, he’s not that bad most of the time. I appreciate your concern but I will be fine… Can someone drive me home?”

I could barely hear her from behind her hands. Hospitals are loud.

“Yes Mrs. Johnson, though I wish you’d reconsider.”

She started to say something else. I’d heard enough. I handed her my business card.

“Take this; keep it somewhere where he can’t find it. If you need anything you just call, understand?” she nodded “Good. I’ll go make sure the doc’s through with you and have him print your prescription.”

“Thank you Officer Macintyre. I know you just want to help. I will be fine.”

She looked like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

“Yes ma’am.”

I looked up at the sliding glass doors which led outside before turning to the nurse’s station. Fucking Martin was still on his phone underneath a streetlight. I don’t care if his wife is pregnant and their eighteen month old has the colic, calling him at work aint gone fix a damn thing. Here’s a hint Martin: don’t fuck her so much. That or wear a condom. Five is enough. They breed like bunnies, I swear to go—

“Can I help you?”

She looked like she wanted to do anything but. It’s a wonder that chair hadn’t broke by now. This woman occupied half the nurses station alone, both in size and duty. Hooray for budget cuts. I could only spot two other nurses. One answered phones while the other handed clipboards off to doctors and other nurses as they passed by.

“Can I talk the doc who treated Mrs. Johnson?”

“You mean the lady who’s her own color now?”

“I think the color is purple actually, with hints of yellow.”

She didn’t look impressed.

“That poor lady don’t know how bad he is does she.”

“I tried to get her to press charges but—“

“She won’t. Sugar, I done seen this play acted out a thousand times. Always ends the same.” She shook her head while reading a clipboard.

“I’ll page Dr. Schwartz. He’ll come around as soon as he’s finished with the guy in room 342.”

“What’d he do?”

She snorted before answering.

“The crazy fool streaked across the backyards in some fancy pantsy suburban housewife’s wet dream of a neighborhood on some stupid fraternity initiation. Somebody’s dog happened to be awake enough to damn near bite his dick off.”

The image alone made cringe to the point my neck popped.

“That was my reaction, and I’m a woman believe it or not.” We both chuckled

“What’s the prognosis?”

“He’s going to lose his right testicle, along with some stitches in other areas.” Came a voice from over my shoulder.

I braced myself as quick as I could before I turned around. I have to. The man is sex on legs and he doesn’t know it.

Five years of coming in and out of this god forsaken place. Five fucking years. Never have I seen anybody who caught my attention quite like he had. He just took a job here about three months ago, and I’ve been in full on crush mode ever since.

The annoying thing is, I don’t know why. He’s not unusually hot. He’s sorta got that nerdy yet wiry look to him. He’s too short for my usual tastes. I’ve never really had a thing for blondes before. His face must be too skinny as well, or he just refuses to buy glasses that won’t fall off. I’ve dated, fucked, and dumped hotter guys. He just had ‘it’.

I’m so sick of ‘it’ I could fucking kill someone with a spoon. Try and try and fucking try, I cannot figure out just what ‘it’ is, but ‘it’ is a god damn nightmare. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying though.

“What’s up doc?” I said as I turned around.

“Cute, Macduff.”

“It’s Macintyre.”

The corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly.

“I know. Follow me.” He waved a hand as he turned around.

“See you later Denise!” I waved back.

“Night Sugar, be safe!”

“Baby, I thought you knew me better than that.”

She was still laughing as we turned the corner.

The doc waited until we got in the elevator before he started talking.

“She doesn’t have any fractures or broken bones. The bruising will hurt for some time though so I’ve prescribed a mild painkiller she can get at any pharmacy. Other than that there’s nothing more I can do. Is she pressing charges?”

He stayed facing the doors, but turned his head to look up at me.

“No. she says he’s a nice man.”

His head dropped, his eyes intent on the floor. That or his shoes. He did have on nice shoes. Or maybe he was looking at my shoes—

“Nice men don’t hit their wives.” He mumbled.

“No, they don’t. Nice women just cover for the shit men in their life.”

“Very true.”

We both remained silent until the elevator opened up on the ground floor. I let him go ahead of me, amusing myself by watching his ass twitch in front of me. A man has to find his pleasure where he can. Twelve hour shifts don’t provide for a social life.

We stopped at the double doors to the waiting room.

“I had Mrs. Johnson taken out front. She should be with your partner.”

“Thanks doc. At least Martin has to get off that damn phone now.”

“It was good to see you Officer Mac—“

“Please, call me Alex or Cal.”

“Cal?” He smiled in a way that said he thought I was stupid. Normally I’d be annoyed. It looked good on him though.

“My middle name is Caliban.”

“Caliban? That’s a new one.” He laughed.

“The South is famous for stupid names. I’m just happy I didn’t get stuck with Rufus.”

He laughed even harder while shaking his head.

“I’d say you were fortunate. Anyway, I have to get back to work. Have a safe rest of the night Cal.”

“You too—“ I motioned with my hand for him to answer my obvious question.

“Adrian.”

“So long Adrian. I’ll see you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

------

People are stupid. When I was younger I had thought different. I was naive. I guess that makes me stupid too. Either way, it still shocks me sometimes how stupid people can be.

“Sir, how exactly did you manage to do this?” Martin looked as perplexed as I did.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” The man explained.

“I’m sure it did.” I wasn’t so sure.

“Look, can somebody just help me already! I’ve been here forever!”

“Give us a minute to think real quick sir.” Martin is famous for his ‘real quicks.’

“How the fuck do you think he managed this?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” He said.

“Should we call the fire department?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. This wasn’t covered at the academy.”

“Fuck it. Let’s try and get him out ourselves first.”

We both stood outside for a moment and pondered the situation presented to us. Again, people are stupid. We had just come back into service when we received a call about a man stuck in a window. We figured some dumb ass fucked up a home invasion by trying to get in one of those real small bathroom windows. Nope. We show up to a man who easily weighed four hundred pounds hanging half in, half out his living room window. Apparently, he lost his keys so he just figured he’d climb through. He must’ve forgotten to tell his lower half about the plan.

“How about I go inside and push while you stay out here and pull?” Martin suggested.

“How about you go fuck yourself. I’m not going to be anywhere behind King Kong Bundy should, by some miracle, he come flying outa there.”

“Look, that’s about the only option I see here.”

“Why don’t you pull and I’ll push?”

“I have kids!” He through his hands in the air.

“I have looks!”

“God damn it Alex, I’m the fucking corporal here, now fucking get in position while I find a way inside.”

“Shit…” I mumbled as Martin walked away. God I hope he stays stuck and we can call the fire department. The ladder monkeys are used to this sorta thing.

“Officer?”

“Yeah, whatcha need?”

“Can you scratch my knee? It’s been bugging me for a while now.”

“Jesus Christ…” I rubbed the bridge of my nose while I thought about where my life had gone wrong. Fucking Law and Order. I wanted to be Jerry Briscoe. Not some jackass stuck prying manatees out of windows. Think happy thoughts Alex. Happy thoughts.

The Doc and I had been talking a lot more since Rebecca Johnson’s little ‘stair’ incident. We seemed to at least be good acquaintances if not small time friends. I kept wondering if he was gay. Hand to god, the little twink didn't give shit away. I was tempted to just ask him out and be done with it. Still, I couldn't do that. If he said no things would be awkward every time I went in the ER, which was way too often. Denise would never stop giving me shit either.

Two months is a long time to dance around someone though. Add that on to the three months before we actually started talking to each other and this shit starts to get a bit ridiculous. I seemed to talk to him every single time I had to interview some dumb shit who lost a tooth or broke his nose in a bar fight. At least I hadn’t seen Rebecca since then.

She had called me about two weeks after the incident to tell me she was fine and that Bobby was doing better. I wanted to believe her. You can’t though. You fucking can’t. At least she hadn’t been back in the ER. She was a nice woman. Stupid, yes, but nice.

The front door opened. Martin stood there with his hands on his hips like he thought he was Superman.

“TAA-DA!!!”

“How’d you get in, oh great one?”

“The window on the side was unlocked too.”

“Don’t you know anything about window locks, buddy” Martin asked the man.

“I like fresh air. Locking and unlocking gets annoying after a while.” He responded meekly.

Martin just shook his head.

“Alright Alex, let’s get this over with.”

“If I die, you’re going to be my one and only paul bearer. I’ll be sure to request the heaviest casket available.”

“I’ll rent a forklift, now stop bitching.”

I grabbed both ankles. This was going to suck.

“On my count! Three, two, one, PULL!”

I tried. Really, I did! This guy was in there tighter than a pickle jar lid.

“That… was a massive failure.” I said

“I have the feeling everything is massive when it comes to this guy.”

“When he hauls ass, he has to make two trips. What’d you expect?”

“GUYS!!! I’m right here!”

“That much is for damn sure.” I muttered low enough for Martin to hear.

“I’m going to call the fire department. They’ll have to cut him out.”

“Great…”

Calling the fire department meant we would have to wait for them. Since it wasn’t an emergency, we both knew they were going to take their sweet time.

“Hang tight man, the fire department is on their way.”

I didn’t wait for a response, turning instead to go sit with Martin in the car.

We shot the breeze for an hour, waiting for the boys in red to finish sliding down their pole. Thank god for car heaters. Just because it’s October doesn’t mean it’s not cold enough to be uncomfortable.

“Hope they didn’t bring Spot the fire engine dog or that guy’s ass is going to be in some real danger.”

“I don’t think a dog would go near that, no matter how desperate.” I said.

“What’s going on fellas?” asked the head fireman.

“King of the buffet managed to get stuck in his window.”

“I’m surprised he managed to get in the window in the first place.” He said

“Yeah well…”

“Alright boys, let’s get to it.”

We were stuck there for two hours waiting for them to finish cutting him out. Two hours of having to listen to Martin talk on the damn phone with his wife and explain why he didn’t know the difference between the health benefits of formula or breast milk. After being yelled at for a bit, he told her we had a call and hung up.

“Son of a bitch Alex, never marry a redhead. They’re fucking nuts.” He wiped a hand across his forehead.

“Prefer blondes.”

“No you don’t, you just prefer that little doctor. Don’t lie to me.” He warned when I started to interrupt.

“Lord knows every time we go there you find a reason to talk to him. Thought your eyes were going to fall out last time. Startin' to get embarrassing, I say.”

“Only when you bring it up shithead.”

“You want me to ask him out for you?”

“NO!!!” I damned near jumped over the computer between our seats. “I swear to god Davis, I will leave your children orphans if you do that.”

“Well then do something about it. You’ve never been this way before.”

“This guy’s different.”

“How?”

“He’s got ‘it.’”

“Gonorrhea?”

“What, NO! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Then what is ‘it?’” He made air quotes with his hands.

“I don’t know.” I muttered.

“Well you better figure ‘it’ out. You’re starting to drive me nuts.”

After the Dalmatian fuckers finally got the blue whale off the beach, we got a call to Rebecca’s house. We were being requested since we had handled her case the first time. Another unit was already on scene.

When we arrived, a few cars had made a barrier around the Johnson’s driveway, which lead up to their little suburban home. It looked like all the other homes around, minus the police tape. We hadn’t been told much over the radio. I started to ask one of the guys what the deal was when I saw it.

A black bag being rolled out on a stretcher is never a good thing. Never. I don’t remember much else. I interviewed the kids who were old enough to answer questions. I can remember the oldest girl looked like she had seen the world end and didn’t know how to act in response. I couldn’t say anything in condolence other than I’m sorry. The girl just nodded. Her name was Becky.

I didn’t have to go to the hospital. I really had no reason to. Still, something inside made me have to see the body to be sure. I’m a masochist I suppose.

The son of a bitch had beat her head in with a lamp. A fucking lamp, in front of his own kids. According to them, she had apparently overcooked his chicken. An appropriate response it would seem. Jackasses.

“You alright?”

I jerked my head to the right, then back down again.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Hey, look at me.” He said, with a hand on my shoulder. I was curled up with my back against the wall. I don’t know how long I’d been there. Don’t have a clue when I started crying. I shook my head.

“Denise said you were down here earlier. No one had seen you leave.”

“Very observant of them.”

“You’re hard to miss.”

“Why couldn’t she just listen to me?”

“She loved him.”

“WHY! He was a shithead!” The only good that came from this, even remotely, was Mr. Johnson was shot to death resisting arrest. He stabbed an officer I went to the academy with. Ramirez got a few stitches and a lollipop.

“Sometimes the ones you love the most hurt you the most.”

I looked up at him. I wanted to yell he was fucking stupid, that it shouldn’t be that way, and that I would never do that to someone I loved. It was pointless. None of it would change anything. Rebecca would still be dead. Four children would still be orphans. Fat fucks would still get stuck in windows. Nothing changes.

“Are you off?”

“Yeah” I checked my phone. Eight a.m. “I’ve been off for two hours.”

“I’ll take you home. You’re in no shape to drive.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. His strength surprised me a little. I guess he packed a lot in the little amount of space he had.

He walked me to the employee side of the parking garage till we reached a silver Dodge Durango. Not my favorite car. Can’t say I cared at this point. The morning sun was shining bright in our eyes as I gave directions to my apartment. It was Thursday. I was off till Saturday night.

He walked me to my door. I asked if he wanted coffee. He said sure.

I tried to fill the cups. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He got off the couch and told me to sit while he poured. At least he drank his. I mostly just stared at mine. I couldn’t get over how pointless it all seemed. A woman dead over a burnt fucking chicken. I bet it wasn’t even burnt. I would’ve have ate it. I’ve cooked worse for myself.

“Hey none of that.”

He held me. I should be ecstatic. Adrian is in my apartment and holding me. Not quite how I envisioned it. Couldn’t stop though. Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. I was shaking like I was going through detox.

“Come on, up we go.” He said as he pulled me up.

He shuffled me to my bed, pushing me down till I sat on the edge. He undid my shoes, pulled off my socks, my coat, shirt. He hesitated when he came to my gun belt. I should help him. I couldn’t. I helped before. That went well.

He eventually realized I was useless. He should just go. Nope. He undid both belts, setting my pistol on the nightstand beside the bed, dumping the mag and clearing the chamber first.

Then came my work pants until I was sitting in nothing more than my boxer-briefs. I didn’t want to lay down. I didn’t want to do anything. The covers were pulled over me. He kissed the side of my forehead.

“It’ll be okay.”

I doubt it.

-------

He’s an idiot. Maybe a bigger one than myself. I could see his glasses on the table next to the couch. I live in a closet. The bed isn’t more than five feet from the couch. The kitchen, ten feet. Maybe I exaggerate. I never was good at judging distance.

I still felt numb. I feel numb. That’s stupid. How can you feel numb? Numbness is the absence of feeling, so how can you feel it. It’s three o clock. We slept about six hours. That’s a lot for me. Never needed too much.

He still hasn’t moved. I made him a couple of eggs and some bacon. Toast is a little too burnt. The lamp seemed to taunt me. Hopefully Adrian doesn’t get any ideas. Or maybe he should. I really do suck at cooking.

“It’s not polite to stare.” He said without opening his eyes.

“Neither is it to not eat when someone cooks for you. Come get it, or do you want to eat over there?” Over there wasn’t that far.

He moved his hand in a come hither motion. He grabbed my wrist when I set the plate on the coffee table. Maybe he wants coffee. It would make the table feel worthy of it's name. He stared into my eyes.

“Feeling better?” He has pretty eyes. They’re light blue. Pretty blue eyes.

I nodded. I did feel slightly more alive than last night. Not that that’s saying much.

He ate while I stared at him. Fuck politeness.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then stop blaming yourself—“

“You have pretty eyes.”

He stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. The egg landed on the toast. It covered some of the burned parts.

“What.” He stared like I was crazy.

“They’re blue. And pretty. So are you, in a masculine way.”

He slowly sat the plate on the table.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Positive.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m fine.”

“No, about…” he gestured towards his face.

“Because it’s the truth.”

He reached around to the back of my neck and pulled my head so hard I thought it’d snap. He was hard and aggressive. His lips were soft. Tasted like bacon.

I was already lacking a shirt, so undressing wasn’t too difficult for me. He spun in a circle trying to get his sweatshirt off while I tried to undo the jeans of a twirling man.

“Hold fucking still!” I laughed at the absurdity of how he looked. Hair all fucked up, jeans undone, and a sweatshirt seemingly tied in a knot on his head. We can’t all be doctors.

I don’t know how or why I never tried to get him in my bed before. God, he’s aggressive. There’s nothing like a small top. I’m pretty versatile. Depending on who I’m with, I can top or bottom. I enjoy both, though bottoming is my favorite.

He’s not the biggest I’ve had and I’m sure I’m not the biggest he’s had. Not that it mattered. Something told me right away he’d never had anything bigger than a finger or two up his ass. Maybe I’ll fix that one day.

I was playing with his chest hair while looking over his shoulder. He fits like a fucking puzzle piece in my arms. A puzzle piece that put my arm to sleep, but still. I love holding him. I looked to the nightstand. Four o clock. That didn’t take long.

“How many times did we come?”

“I counted two all."

“Not bad for an hour.”

“Nope”

We laid still for a while.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure. I’ve got the day off.”

“Cool.”