Paying The Piper - 32. Chapter 32

Quent threw open the door to his hospital room. The snippy witch at the nurse’s station hadn’t even stopped back to see if he needed help. As a result, he had dressed himself, not the easiest of tasks with a heavily bandaged thigh that throbbed every time he moved.

He limped out into the hall, turned, and bumped right into Stuart. The collision jarred his leg and pain seared the left side of his body. He cursed loudly and gave a fervent prayer that where ever Jim Stahl was now, the bastard was suffering.

Stuart steadied him. "Turn around and get back in that bed, Quent. You’re in no condition to be up and about."

Quent drew himself up. "I am aware of that."

Stuart frowned. "Then I’m confused."

"I am aware of that, as well."

"I see your vitriol hasn’t suffered a setback."

Quent was already tired and dizzy. And he wasn’t even close to the damn elevator yet. Stuart stepped forward when he swayed. His good humor doctor persona vanished in a flash. "Now, listen here. You’re undoing all my hard work by hopping around on that leg before you should be. You want to go, Quent? Go. But when you’re back in two days with a secondary infection, gangrene and, quite possibly, sepsis, don’t you dare offer me one snide word. Not one. Are we clear?"

Quent opted for the good offense/good defense approach. "I thought you went home. You really don’t have a life, do you? Back already? Let go of me!"

Stuart took a deep breath and promptly released Quent’s arm. Quent wobbled dangerously before grasping the wall. When he had regained his balance, he shot Stuart a dirty look.

The doctor met his hostility in equal measure. "I was home. Enjoying myself immensely with a little television. Until the night nurse called about you."

"Home and Garden Network?" Quent asked snidely.

"No."

"ER?"

Stuart sighed. He took Quent firmly by the arm and turned him around. "Why are you doing this? Is it so bad here?"

Quent set his jaw and didn’t answer. Stuart helped him back into the room and onto the bed. "You can keep the scrub pants if you like, but the shirt will have to go," he said congenially. Quent grabbed his arm as he turned away and Stuart glanced back.

"I have to get to Cale," Quent insisted.

"Why?"

"I can’t explain."

"I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words."

"This is important," Quent snarled. He jerked away when Stuart reached for the buttons on his shirt. Suddenly, an image sprang to mind: Cale pulling away from him in much the same manner just a few days ago. He slumped as the truth hit him. "I’m being unreasonable," he admitted.

Stuart blinked. "What was that? No wait, hold that thought. I want to go find a witness." He chuckled as he reached for the buttons again. This time, Quent didn’t move to stop him, merely glared as viciously as he could. "I hate you."

"I know," Stuart replied. He deftly slipped the shirt off and from out of nowhere, produced a hospital gown. Quent inspected it suspiciously. "It won’t bite," Stuart assured him.

Quent snatched it out of his hands. "Troll," he muttered.

"What?"

"I said, droll," Quent snapped. "You’re very droll. Popular with the kids and old folks, I expect."

Stuart perched himself on the edge of the bed. "Cale’s a big boy now, Quent. He doesn’t need you protecting him any longer."

Quent paused before slipping the gown around his shoulders. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know what I said and you know what I meant. Angus isn’t around anymore. Give Cale some room. He doesn’t need you shadowing his every step. I understand this…need you have to look after him, but I think you might be overcompensating for things you believe you failed to prevent."

"Why, thank you, Dr. Cobb." Quent sneered as he jerked the gown closed. "And now I believe our hour is up."

Stuart was undeterred. "I’m serious, Quent. Angus was a vicious, controlling man with a black heart. Cale will have to live with that, the knowledge that he’s son to that monster, for the rest of his life. Must you remind him at every turn, by your very presence, just how evil he was?"

**********

Drew sighed and conjured a suitably scandalized expression for Cale’s benefit. He was beginning to understand his lover’s intense dislike for his father. "It was a shitty thing to do, I agree," he said, "but it happens. There are hundreds of small towns across the country, a couple dozen in this state alone that have suffered just as much."

Cale shook his head. "There’s more," he added.

Drew hooked his arms under Cale and pulled him back down onto the pillow. "What your father did is not your fault," he whispered.

"But I supported him, Drew. Publicly. I was the poster child for Angus McCoy’s slash and burn policies." Cale swallowed heavily when a flare of distaste flared in Drew’s eyes.

"Why?" Drew finally asked.

"A stupid reason. The stupidest reason of all. Because I thought it would make him care about me. Respect me. Trust me." Cale tried to roll away, but Drew stopped him. After a moment, he continued. "When he arranged the betrothal to Elizabeth, I never said a word. And I think he knew. About…that I couldn’t." Cale placed a hand over his eyes. "I was so careful to hide it. But I think he knew anyway."

The distaste in Drew’s eyes disappeared. He shifted closer and wrapped himself around Cale, whispering, "I’m sorry." They stayed that way for several minutes, enjoying the way their bodies melded together, before Drew spoke. "Did you know Quent back then?" He felt Cale’s head bob once where it rested against his own.

"I did." He pulled back after a brief kiss to Drew’s temple. "Before he was elected—"

"People actually elected him?" Drew asked, aghast.

"Believe it or not."

Drew didn’t want to believe it, that was the problem. On the other hand, the man was exceptionally good at what he did and unflappable to boot. A combination he supposed would have won the nod from many people. "All right. Let me adjust to that news. Keep going – before he was elected…?"

"He worked for my father," Cale finished.

"Consigliere?" Drew smirked, but Cale frowned.

"Close."

Drew sobered instantly. "Is there something you’re not telling me?"

Cale sighed. "Not really. There wasn’t anything illegal going on. He was just a bad man, Drew. Does someone have to commit one heinous act to be labeled bad? Or can their record over time stand against them? I mean, even if a misdeed is small, but it hurts someone – not a lot all at once, but instead just a little bit for a long, long time – shouldn’t that make you a bad person, too?"

Drew trailed his fingers over Cale’s back while he thought. "Yes."

"I don’t want to be that kind of person."

"You’re not."

***********

"Watch yourself, Cobb," Quent snarled. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Stuart stiffened. "I know enough."

Quent prepared to retort when abruptly the fight went out of Stuart. He folded in on himself, rose from the bed and backed away. "I apologize, Quent. I have indeed overstepped my bounds." He backed towards the door as he spoke. "Forgive me." He turned and sped from the room.

Quent sat on the bed, both angry and confused. He wondered if Cobb had that head-spinning disease, the one that came with a whole community of personalities. Of course, it could just as easily be a bladder control problem, for all he knew. Good thing he didn’t care.

Either way, the entire exchange had left him in a bad mood. Reluctantly he reclined back onto the bed. He would stay. Cobb was the doctor, after all, even if he was, by popular opinion, a psycho.

**********

Cale twisted himself around in Drew’s arms. "Enough talk. I’ve had my rest. Do you know what I want now?"

"I can guess." Drew let Cale maneuver him onto his back. "Remember you’re hurt," he chided.

"I’m fine, Drew." Cale began a slow inspection of Drew’s body. He started at the top, pulling his fingers through his lover’s coarse, black hair. Drew leaned up to nibble on his chin, but Cale resisted when he tried to press their lips together.

"Cale," he half mumbled, half pleaded.

"Not yet," Cale answered softly. His lips moved to Drew’s throat, neck and collarbone, tasting. Memorizing. He buried his face in Drew’s neck. "I never imagined you’d taste like this," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

"Did you think about that?" Drew asked. It was unbelievable how much the thought aroused him. Cale nodded before moving lower. "A lot?" Drew pressed.

Cale’s rumbling laugh was his answer. "Yes. More than was healthy."

Drew grew serious. "All these years, you’ve never—"

"No," Cale interrupted. "Never."

Drew swallowed hard. "Why not?" he asked. "Why now?"

Cale hesitated before resuming his journey. He licked a slow trail to Drew’s chest. "I couldn’t resist anymore."

Drew took a deep trembling breath as Cale’s tongue brushed his nipple. "I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did."

Cale looked up, amused. "It was less than a week, Drew. You think pretty highly of your charms." He smiled softly. "Not that you shouldn’t. They’re considerable."

Drew tried to order his thoughts. It was difficult with Cale licking lazy circles around his belly button. "No, that’s not what I meant."

Cale smiled. "It wasn’t?"

"No, it wasn’t."

Cale’s tongue dipped lower. "I know."

Drew sighed. He reached down and pulled Cale back up his body until he was once again sprawled across him. When he started to speak, Cale forestalled him.

"Don’t. What’s done is done. The choices were mine. Both then and now. I paid for the first and I’ll pay for this one as well. But at least this time I’m sure it’s what I want." He leaned down to kiss Drew deeply. "I’m sure it’s what I want."

A thousand comments rushed to the tip of Drew’s tongue. He swallowed them all and fell into the kiss.