Chapter 5 #2
“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” Jin asked, almost offended.
“It’s a work thing,” Wyatt said in a rush. “A retirement party.”
“Please tell me it’s Donnelly’s party and you’re his Dean Winchester candygram?”
He snorted out a laugh, “No. Do I really look that generic?”
“Maybe add a bit of flair?”
“Flair…?”
The bar door swung open, and the scent of beer and hot dogs wafted over him.
He heard the boisterous laughter and classic rock drifting over the packed bar.
The red, green, and yellow glow of last year's Christmas lights adorned the stained-glass windows.
The Hot Dog Palace slogan was painted in slanting white block letters, on a forest-green wall above the bar: Fresh beer, booze, and hot dogs! Come and get it!
He smiled, charmed by this oddball place.
“Hey! You made it!”
Wyatt turned and saw Reyes coming at him for a bear hug, holding a beer.
Wyatt gave him a one-armed shoulder hug and patted his back before motioning to the bar, needing alcohol to take the edge off.
He was nervous as a new pony, and he blamed it entirely on letting Jin convince him to wear his cowboy hat.
Normally, he tried to blend in with the LA crowd, especially amongst his peers.
But Jin, as always, managed to talk him into questionable things.
“Damn, Lawson, you clean up good. I should introduce you to my sister. She needs to date someone that doesn’t suck,” Reyes teased, taking a long swig of his beer.
“Thanks, but uh,” Wyatt hesitated, and shook his head, deciding he wasn’t about to tell a half-drunk Reyes that he was gay in a public bar, filled with their co-workers. Some other time, he thought and patted his back. “I’m gonna grab a beer, you want another?”
“Damn straight,” Reyes pointed to the back of the bar. “I got a table with Emily and Ava in the back.”
Wyatt hid his cringe. Ava was the last person he wanted to be sharing a table with.
She was in her first year of residency and was the biggest gossip in the ED.
Ava was the type of person to see a hornet's nest, kick it, film it, and share it with everyone.
He despised people like that. Luckily for her, she was a good doctor, and so far her antics on the team had gone unnoticed.
But it was only a matter of time before her true colors showed.
Emily was cool, though. He really enjoyed working with her and Reyes.
A few people from the emergency department recognized him on the way to the bar, and he stopped to say hi before pushing through the crowd, barely untangling himself from the nurses' table.
He exhaled a nervous breath once his hands reached for the sticky bar top, and the bartenders, two middle-aged women sporting tattoos and rocker vibes, were busy taking orders.
“Man, I swear if Tanya doesn’t get off my ass, I’m gonna have to switch back to night shift.”
He heard Dr. Samuels’s familiar tone, which at times held a hint of a Boston accent, and saw Donnelly sitting next to him, unaware that Wyatt was a mere foot away from him. Wyatt tried to rein in his fluttery nerves, but it was no fucking use when he was next to Donnelly.
“Oh, bureaucracy at its finest,” Donnelly said, taking a sip from his beer. “You haven’t been here long enough for her to already be hounding you. It must be your charm.”
“Must be.”
“Walsh would be thrilled to have you back on his night shift,” Donnelly commented drily.
Samuels snorted. “Key word—his. That man is terrifying. I swear he enjoys chaos—like, likes it. The crazy bastard wants the blood, guts, and gore.”
“C’mon, weren’t we all like that at one point in our careers?” Donnelly challenged with a smirk.
“He’s our fuckin’ age. Grow up, man. Find a hobby—somethin’. Don’t let your life be the ED. I’ve only seen him one time here, and he’s—he’s fuckin’ mean, man.”
Donnely snorted a delicious laugh, his large hand clasping the amber bottle as he tilted it up by the neck and took another sip. “He’s not that bad. I like his company. Sometimes. Just gotta know how to work around the frayed, slightly crazy edges.”
“You say that like it’s easy. Which makes sense, because it’s you.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Donnelly asked.
“I think you know.”
“I don’t,” Donnely replied, his tone shifting to an unexpected defensiveness.
“Look, man, I ain’t sayin’ this to be mean, I’m sayin’ it outta love.
But you gotta know when to quit. You spend too much time on lost causes and not enough on the lives that can be saved.
It’s gonna catch up, and when it does, it’s gonna hurt.
I feel like every time I turn around, you're in the grief room because of it.”
“I’m the senior attending, Sam. That’s what we do.”
“No,” Samuels said firmly. “You don’t delegate. You take on too much when you have me and a dozen other fully capable doctors who can be the bearer of bad news. It doesn’t have to be you every time, brother.”
Donnelly’s hand reached for the back of his neck, gripping and rubbing, his right shoulder slightly higher than the other, and Wyatt's eyes sharpened over him.
“Some of the residents aren’t ready for that,” Donnelly replied coolly.
“Bullshit.”
Donnelly stiffened.
“That’s just an excuse to not ask for help.”
“I don’t need help,” Donnelly retorted. “I’m fine.”
Samuels paused, assessing him with those cool, dark green eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
Something passed between the two older doctors that Wyatt couldn’t see, and for a split second, he thought they were maybe having a moment. Was it a romantic moment? Wyatt nearly leaned over the bar to look, but forced himself to keep his boots firmly planted on the damned floor.
“I’m done hounding you,” Samuels patted Donnelly affectionately on the back. “I’m glad you finally decided to join us tonight. It’s nice seeing you in the land of the living.”
Donnelly scoffed, “I came out last month.”
“No, you didn’t. We’ve hung out approximately five times outside the ED since I moved out here eight months ago.”
Wyatt frowned at not being able to read Donnelly’s expression. He was always better at reading between the lines and seeing what people said with their bodies rather than their words. It annoyed Wyatt that he hadn’t figured out Donnelly yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he did.
He had seen a few things. The first thing Wyatt noticed was his shoulder.
The next was seared into his brain like a cattle brand.
Donnelly, sprawled out on the king-size hotel bed, looking like the most delicious midnight snack Wyatt could’ve ever asked for.
Blissed out of his mind, sedated in his orgasmic glow, utterly fucking glorious.
Donnelly was the epitome of a masculine old-school man, with a thickly built physique that could easily pack on muscle, rich, furry chest hair that trailed all the way down the flat planes of his stomach, and that impressive, mouth-watering cock.
Wyatt licked his lips, breathing hard through his nose, thinking about how he had briefly felt that dick in his mouth, and how much he needed to feel it again, and soon.
Stay fuckin’ cool, cowboy.
“What would you like, handsome?” asked the bartender, startling Wyatt out of his thoughts.
“Whiskey and a pitcher of beer, please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
“Christ, Lawson, is that you?” Samuels said, causing Wyatt to turn in time to see Donnelly’s shoulders tense at the sound of his name.
Wyatt tipped the brim of his hat to the doctor.
He liked Dr. Samuels. He was like the cool uncle everyone liked hanging out with.
He was around Donnelly’s age, maybe younger, with curly dark brown hair that was graying at the roots, and currently intent on growing a mustache.
He was also stupidly handsome. Wyatt heard Ava complaining about how hard it was to keep her focus while they were both working the same shift, because they were both distractingly hot.
And now, a possible threat to making moves on his captain.
His captain?
Get a grip, Lawson.
“Why on earth are you trying to be a doctor?” Samuels asked almost accusingly. “You should be on a commercial or television show somewhere. Not in this old guy's ED.”
Donnelly slowly turned on his barstool with a firm grip on his beer, careful to glance only briefly and politely in Wyatt’s direction, and taking another sip of his beer.
Acknowledge, but don’t absorb, Wyatt thought, knowing precisely what Donnelly was attempting to do.
Keep it professional—keep it neutral.
Don’t think about the sounds their bodies made fucking, or how hard Donnelly came in Wyatt’s fist. His hand tingled afterward at the mere thought.
He swallowed thickly, heat flooding his body at how close Donnelly was to him now that he had turned in his seat. Wyatt couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in his worn jeans, long-sleeved dark gray overshirt, and black undershirt.
Wyatt came to the bar tonight with two things in mind: look as good as humanly possible and make Donnelly notice him, and then ignore him.
It was petty and low, but it was the only way he could enjoy this night without sulking in possible defeat.
Because Donnelly wasn’t breaking, and maybe never would.
Maybe their sinful night of pleasure was a one-off, and he needed to accept it.
Except, he couldn’t. He had fucked plenty of men in his life, but Donnelly had surrendered everything. Giving everything over to Wyatt in a way he had never, ever felt.
It was invigorating and addictive.
And he wasn’t going to admit defeat until the bitter damned end.
“Who says I didn’t try?” Wyatt countered smoothly.
“Bullshit,” Samuels shot back over the noisy bar.
He shrugged, playing it off, but unable to stop the smile dancing on his lips.
“You serious?” Samuels asked, slightly impressed.