Oh, The Places You'll Go

Five Things Caroline and Guy Do At Home

Notes: Written from a prompt by leiascully. Set post-Special.

1. Guy cuts Caroline's toenails like clockwork once every two weeks. It starts when he complains about her mauling his shins when she tries to warm her feet up on him in bed.

"I can't help it," she whines as Guy hold her feet hostage. "There's something wrong with them. I can't seem to ever cut them right."

Guy is incredulous. "You're a bloody surgeon," he says. "What are they doing letting you loose on real people if you can't do something as straightforward as cutting your toenails properly?"

"I don't have to be a contortionist to be a surgeon," replies Caroline, trying futilely to squirm out of Guy's grasp. "I can't bend in the right way."

Guy yanks hard on her legs so she comes up hard against his chest, knees practically tucked in his armpits.

"You can bend in all the ways you need to," he leers.

"Watch it, Secretan," warns Caroline, letting her fingernails dig lightly into his back. "I can still harm you with the limbs I've got free."


The next day after Caroline showers and is sitting on the bed towelling her hair dry, Guy appears and kneels before her.

"Lovely thought," she says absentmindedly, "but I'll be late for work."

"Not that, you filthy-minded female. Although. No. This," and Guy brandishes nail clippers in the air. "No more gaping wounds," he says. "And if you tell anyone I do this I will have to kill you."

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't." Guy smiles. "Though I know a man who could. Or maybe at least perm your hair while you sleep."


"Doesn't matter," says Guy and bends to his task.

2. Every mutual day off, Caroline and Guy make breakfast together. First, it's a simple bowl of cereal but before long they've moved on to freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, hand rolled croissants, bacon and eggs. It is a well choreographed dance; Guy's hand is barely out before Caroline slaps a spatula in it. And it is a dance that gets more elaborate as the weeks go by. Eggs are tossed, knives twirled, dough flung.

One week Guy starts humming 'The Stripper' as they chop in perfect time. Caroline laughs in recognition and joins in and they perform breakfast to the beat.

"So," she says, as they sit at the table stuffing their faces, "we're Morecambe and Wise now, are we?"

"Obviously I'm the funny one," says Guy through a mouthful of eggs, "and you're the little, hairy one. Only we have more sex than they did."

"Wouldn't count on it," says Caroline. "Not if you're saying I'm little and hairy."

"Eat your breakfast, Ernie. There's one more chorus of The Stripper and I wouldn't want to waste it. Fancy an extra sausage?"

3. Once a week, Guy and Caroline settle down in front of the TV with a bottle of wine and a rented DVD. They take turns to choose. Guy always says you can tell Caroline's films because they're all words and no plot and there never seem to be any women with big boobs in them. Caroline always says that you can tell Guy's films by the body count and the size of the men's ... weapons.

Actually, Guy's favourite film is Room With A View, Caroline catches him tearing up over the scene in the cornfield one night when he thinks she is sleeping. He says he'd tripped on the remote which had accidentally started the DVD at exactly that point and it was the agonising pain in his shin that was causing him to sniffle. Caroline does not argue and stores this information away in the file marked 'Valery: reasons why Guy is a girl'.

One time they are watching Tomb Raider, chosen, Guy says, because of the action, but actually chosen because of his fascination with Angelina Jolie's breasts. Caroline is settled snugly along Guy's side and ready to drift off when a tall, ginger man bearing a striking resemblance to Mac appears on screen. Neither of them says a word, just squeeze each other's hand. And neither of them is surprised when the back catalogue of this actor began to turn up on their doorstep week after week.

4. Some nights they're both so exhausted that all they can do is sprawl out over the sofa. Guy often ends up with his head in Caroline's lap and as they talk in desultory fashion about the issues of the day: Martin's infatuation with Naughty Rachel, the lack of surgical beds in Cardiology, Sue White's frightening promotion to the Trust Board, she winds her fingers into his curls, twisting the strands until they are coiled like springs, then letting go.

She can do this for hours. There is something totally soothing about the way the curls always bounce back. Nothing, not scissors, not hair gel, not a razor will ever defeat Guy's curls. Caroline thinks that might be what she loves about him the most.

5. When Guy was at prep school his stepmother insisted that he learned to play piano. A life-skill, she called it. Guy did as he was told or he knew she'd put a stop to the life-saving tuck packages Cook sent him every fortnight. No more ginger biscuits? He'd go mad.

He admits his ability to Caroline one night when he's drunk and then can't understand why she's all excited and dragging him to the garage. There, under what looks like the whole of West London's quotient of dust and a bunch of crap that her hoarder brother clearly couldn't bear to get rid of, is a battered looking piano. Guy shakes his head, no, no, no, no, but she's doing her best hangdog pleeeeeeeease expression and that's how he finds himself moving furniture at three o'clock in the morning.

Once it's all cleaned up and tuned Caroline wants to play duets, she even polishes her flute especially. Guy tries to resist, claims he's so rusty he's solidified. He tries to distract her with lewd comments about blowing and tinkling. Caroline uses every trick in the book to wheedle him into playing. In the end it takes a combination of a quick flash of her tits and a promise that he has a get-out-of-jail-free card as regards the next reciprocal orgasm and then Guy is closing the curtains stating that there must be no witnesses or his manhood will not remain intact.

There are a few false starts and then they're off and running. Guy is surprised to find he's enjoying himself, not that he's ever going to tell Caroline that, he told her about the poetry and look what happened there. It had taken three hours to scour the hospital and take down all the copies. So he isn't going to tell her, but the next time she asks he's a little less reluctant. They're never going to be James Galway and Andre Previn, but for once Guy isn't feeling competitive. Although he takes down a number for a piano teacher down from one of the hospital noticeboards. Just in case. Of course.

Contact Cat

Or comment at my LJ