Oh, The Places You'll Go

A Different Angle

Notes: Birthday fic for my darling entropical87. Pre-series, no spoilers.


"Yeah. No. That's a little bit sore, actually."

"Oh, you are such a pouf. It's supposed to hurt, that's how you know you're doing it right." Guy leans on one hand. "Want me to stop?"

"No! Don't. Just-" Mac pauses. "Just go easy, yeah? Maybe think about your angle."

"God, do you always have to be telling people what to do? Trust me on this." Guy leers. "I'm a doctor."

"And yet that thought does not in any way appear comforting to me. Wonder why?"

Guy's eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. Beneath him Mac is pale, calm. Except he's not really and Guy knows him well enough to know the signs: the glazed expression, the clenched jaw, the trembling hair. He is such a jessy. Guy thinks about giving the whole thing up as a bad job, but no, in for a penny, in for a pound.

He does what he's told, changes the angle. And now he's the one trembling, sweat beginning to bead on his upper lip. Mac's skin is cool against his hand and Guy wonders whether he's like that all the way through to his centre. Like maybe the sang-froid of Mac's personality prevents him from reaching normal body temperature. Definitely something to look forward to finding out.

Mac flinches.

"Yeah, sorry. Still sore."

"For fuck's sake!" Guy growls. "Should be like a bloody plaster. One quick movement and then it's done. Whoosh!" He demonstrates with a hand and Mac winces. "We don't have to," Guy adds and begins to withdraw.

"No," Mac's voice is as firm as his grip on Guy's wrist. He licks his bottom lip. "I want to. I have to." He pauses, releases Guy and grips the sheet underneath him. "Do it, Guy."

"Sure?"

"Yup."

"What about the angle?"

"Fuck it."

"What if it hurts?"

"Fuck it."

"Alright, then!"

Guy bends again to the task at hand. Plaster, he reminds himself. He steadies himself against Mac's hip, positions himself carefully and-

"Got the bastard!" he crows, holding up a pair of tweezers grasping a jagged-looking splinter. "Tell me again how you got this thing because it must have taken some serious work."

Mac is sitting up now, pushing aside the light Guy had positioned over the gurney.

"Well that was a less than pleasant experience," he says, already returned to the three C's of Mac — cool, calm and collected.

Guy drops the splinter in the sharps bin and gets an alcohol swab to wipe over the small puncture wound the shard has left behind. He may linger a little too long over his task.

"I believe some form of thanks is in order."

"Sure, sure. Thank you, Dr. Secretan. Great job. You'll be rewarded in heaven."

"Not likely," says Guy, locking the door and closing the blinds. "Not going there. I'll take my reward now, as previously agreed. You owe me one blowjob."

"Can't argue with that," says Mac, swinging himself off the gurney and dropping to his knees in front of Guy in one easy movement. Guy touches Mac's hair and it's cool. Mac's mouth is not.


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