Chicago Series: D.C. Lost

TITLE: CHICAGO SERIES: D.C. LOST
AUTHOR: WPAdmirer@aol.com 
ARCHIVE: Gossamer: Yes. Others: Please write before archiving.
CATEGORY: Slash Crossover (XF-ER) Skinner/John Carter, AU (Alternate Universe - cause damnit, I like the beard)
SPOILERS: None for either show at this point.
RATING: NC-17, Consenting Homosexual Sex
SUMMARY: Walter cancels coming to Chicago and John makes a mistake.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter  slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me. This is number eight in the CHICAGO stories series. The other stories are archived at the Walter Skinner Fanfic site, Archive X, and the Adult ER fanfic site. However, it's not necessary to have read them to follow this one. But it might be nice. And now I have a web page all my own with wonderful photos of John Carter and Walter Skinner (well, only two, but they're good) - check it out. (Thanks KiMeriKal!)
http://chateauke.simplenet.com/chimerical/chicago/index.htm.  
DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately.
SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and ewade for beta reading and friendship.
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D.C. LOST

by WPAdmirer

John Carter sat at the table in the lounge trying to catch up on his charts and failing miserably. He'd felt cranky all day. He knew it was mostly the disappointment in the cancellation of his plans for the weekend, but understanding the cause and coping with it were two entirely different things.  Walter had bought an airline ticket and was supposed to be at a hotel downtown right now waiting for him to get off. Then this guy, Mulder, who always seemed to be in some kind of trouble had gotten himself lost in the Carribean and Walter had canceled. If John Carter ever got his hands on the guy, he was going to be in need of a good doctor when it was over.

It had been a little more than a month since Walter had left him in that hotel room. Left him with the promise they would continue to see each other. But their careers didn't cooperate in any of their wants. This weekend was his first off since early October. He hadn't gotten either Christmas or New Years off because he'd had Thanksgiving, and he wasn't about to complain about that.  He thanked the gods every day that he'd had that particular Thursday off and ended up in that hotel bar.
John's head dropped onto the pile of folders in front of him and he groaned. God, they hadn't even been able to have phone sex in over two weeks.  The only time Walter was free he was working and vice versa. They had resorted to erotic e-mail. It just wasn't the same. In fact, it sucked. Walter wasn't particularly good at writing erotic e-mail. John was worse. Laughably bad according to Walter's replies.

Then John finally had a weekend off and Walter bought the ticket and got the hotel room, and then this guy goes off and gets himself lost in the Bermuda Triangle, for God's sake. John hoped the guy was getting his butt kicked but good for all the grief he was causing.

This weekend was supposed to make up for missing Walter, and for all the just plain god awful crap that had gone on the past month. He and Lucy had spent much of it arguing. Then the students in the dorm had an end of semester party that got out of hand and got him fired from his RA job. He'd ended up renting a room from Kerry Weaver, an arrangement which had some very troubling aspects to it, not the least of which was her love of loud music first thing in the morning. Carter believed in waking up slowly. Very slowly. Then there was the night he dislocated his shoulder. He'd only been out of the immobilizer for four days. He was still sore as hell, but he'd planned on letting Walter ease his pain.

John raised his head and growled. He stopped and found himself smiling. He was starting to sound like Walter, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Dr. Carter?"

John turned toward the door and saw an attractive blonde. She smiled. "Yes?"

"You don't remember me. Roxanne? Broken little toe? Dropped a weight on it?"

The memory flooded back to him. She'd had on a tiny tank top and extremely tight spandex shorts. "I remember you."

"I was in dropping off some paperwork with one of the nurses and I thought I'd pop in and say hi." She was smiling.

"Come on in."

She came in and sat on the edge of the table, pointing her legs at John. She slipped one shoe off. "See, it healed fine. You did a good job on it." She placed one bare foot into John's lap, nudging his crotch with her toes.

John blushed. He'd gotten semi-hard thinking about Walter, and there was no doubt from the look on her face that she could feel that.

"I was glad I had to come here. I was hoping you'd be working and that I'd get a chance to see you again. Maybe you're a little glad to see me again?" Her foot dug a little deeper at his fly. "What time do you get off?"

John cleared his throat. This was getting incredibly uncomfortable. "Roxanne....I'm kind of seeing someone...." Roxanne began to stroke his fly with her toes. It felt really good. John bit back the moan that threatened to come up from his groin to his throat.

"Well, she's obviously not taking very good care of you."

John realized he was starting to sweat. "Scheduling problems.  She...this someone lives out of town."

Roxanne's smile broadened and she leaned down and planted a tiny kiss on the end of John's nose. "Her bad luck then."

Could he do this? John realized he was stroking Roxanne's bare leg. It wasn't like he'd given up women. And this could be a test. Walter was the first man he'd ever had sex with, the first man he'd ever even considered having sex with, and it had been weeks since anyone touched him, and John realized he was rationalizing way too much.

"I'll even buy you dinner first," she said.

"Okay." The minute the word came out of his mouth John felt a lump rise in the back of his throat. A test, he told himself again. Just a test.  Not really being unfaithful.

Yeah, right, replied the voice in John Carter's head.

***

John Carter was in the bathroom alternately splashing cold water on his face and berating himself out-loud for his actions during the evening. They'd never even made it to dinner. He was horny, she was willing and wanton, and the next thing he knew they were in his bed, naked, doing the wild thing.  "You stupid, stupid fuckhead," John whispered for the hundred and sixth time.  It wasn't that it had been bad sex, but it wasn't what he really wanted. Roxanne was attractive and she was inventive and adventurous. His body had been satisfied but John's head was screaming with frustration and anger.

He turned the water off and realized that the phone was ringing. He flung the bathroom door open and practically dived across the bed, but Roxanne reached it first.

"Hello? Roxanne, who's this? Walter? Are you John's father?"

Fuck! John grabbed the phone out of Roxanne's hand. She complained loudly, but he ignored her and spoke into the receiver. "Walter?" There was a very long silence on the other end of the line, punctuated only by the sound of static. "Walter?"

"I've apparently interrupted something."

John cringed. Walter's voice was emotionless. "Not really. Roxanne sells disability insurance."

"And she's doing what in your bed at 1:30 in the morning? Giving you a physical?"

John grabbed up his boxers and put them on and headed for the door to the bedroom.

"Where the hell are you going?" Roxanne demanded.

"Walter, just a second, okay?" John turned to Roxanne. "I need to take this call."

Roxanne looked at him and he saw her suddenly understand. "Your out of town someone," she said flatly. "Shit." She got up and began putting her clothes on.

John started to say something then realized he really didn't care what she thought. He went upstairs to the kitchen with the phone. Walter hadn't said a word the entire time. John paced the kitchen floor and began to talk. "Walter, please, talk to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It was a mistake. Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"Then how can you expect me to know?"

"Walter, I swear, this is the only time, the only time this has happened. I swear. I was really bummed that you'd canceled, and this woman, Roxanne, she came on to me really heavy, and then I thought what the hell, but it wasn't the same...."

"I would hope not." Walter's voice sounded tired.

"When you called I was in the bathroom kicking my own ass for having done it. I swear I was."

There was no answer from Walter. Roxanne came up from John's downstairs room.  She glared at him and walked out of the room. He heard the front door close.  He sighed and sank down next to the kitchen counter to sit on the floor.  "Walter, I miss you so much."

"You have a damn poor way of showing it."

"Where are you?"

"On my way back to D.C."

"From where?"

"Bermuda. And don't ask."

"Couldn't you come here instead?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. Take some time, John Carter. You need to decide what you want."

"I know what I want. I want you, Walter."

"I'm not so sure."

There was a click and the line went dead. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," John said.   He buried his face against his knees.

"Is Walter the guy who came by the ER to see you at Thanksgiving?"

John groaned and covered his head with his hands. This was getting worse by the minute. He felt something nudge his hip. He raised his head and saw Kerry Weaver standing in her bathrobe next to him. She nudged him with her crutch again. "Get up. Let's have a cup of tea and talk."

John realized he was sitting in Kerry's kitchen in nothing but his boxers. "I should get a robe or something."

"Eh, don't bother. I'm not interested, which apparently is a good thing."

John blushed hotly. Kerry pointed to the butcher block in the middle of the room and the stools next to it. "Sit."

John Carter reluctantly took a seat. Kerry filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove. As she took out mugs and tea bags she began talking. "I always figured you were straight."

"So did I."

Kerry looked at him and grinned. "First time, huh? I vaguely remember the guy. Mark talked to him."

"Oh, God...."

"You should know you can't keep anything a secret around there. Jerry read the note."

"What!" John began to hyperventilate.

Kerry calmly walked over to him and whacked him on the back. "Stop that.  Calm down. At least he didn't post it on the bulletin board like he did your VD test results."

John began to knock his forehead against the blond wood of the butcher block.   "Everybody knows?"

"Well, they don't really know what's going on, but there's been a lot of wagering on it. I think the pot on it is up to close to a thousand.  Most of the bets are platonic friend, but Mark put money down on lover. You'll be pleased to know that the majority of people in the ER believe you're a firmly committed heterosexual."

"Oh, God."

"So what happened? I hear you in here begging someone to talk to you and I see some blonde storm out the front door. Then I find you in here in your underwear on the phone, still begging, so obviously you weren't begging the blonde. You were, however, begging someone named Walter."

"Begging?"

"That's what it sounded like to me."

"Shit."

The kettle began to shriek. John covered his ears. Why was it everything Kerry did in the kitchen had to be at sound levels rivaling jet engines? She took the kettle off the stove and poured hot water into two mugs. She set a mug and a spoon in front of John. "I repeat, what happened?"

"Walter was supposed to be here this weekend, but he had to cancel. Some agent went missing and he was trying to help find him. Roxanne came by the hospital right about the time I was getting off, and she asked me out. We ended up here. Walter called. Roxanne answered the phone."

"When you fuck up you really do it right, Carter." Kerry spooned sugar into her tea. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"When do you have to be back at work?"

"Sunday night."

"Where is he?"

"On his way to D.C. He lives in Washington, D.C."

"If you got an early morning flight you could be there in a couple of hours."

John's heart began to hammer in his chest. "I'm broke. My credit cards were all tied to my trust fund. They've all been canceled."

Kerry raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since last spring."

"Jesus, Carter. Call, get a reservation. I'll charge the ticket to one of my cards and you can pay me back."

"Why are you doing this?"

Kerry grinned. "I'm a romantic. Call the airlines, quick, before I lose my generous inclination."

John got up and ran to find the phone book.

***

John tried Walter's home phone number and cellular phone from the airport. There was no answer at either one. He left a message, but since there was no number to leave for a return call it felt a lot like pissing in the wind.  When he reached the building in Crystal City he'd become more than a little intimidated by what he was doing. Walter was likely to refuse to see him or speak to him, and would be completely justified in doing so. That was, if he was even back. They hadn't talked long enough for John to find out exactly when Walter was due to arrive home.

John saw the security at the desk and froze just outside the front doors. How the hell was he going to get past the guy? Two men came up the steps toward the doors. John took a deep breath and went through the lobby of the building to the elevators following the men, fully expecting to be stopped along the way. It wasn't until the doors closed and the elevator began to rise that he felt like there was a chance that he might be able to pull this off. He carried only his backpack. It had his shaving kit and a spare pair of boxers and another shirt. His return ticket was for late afternoon on Sunday, and with any luck at all, he'd be taking that flight. The other alternative was to be hanging out at the airport trying to fly standby, to go home earlier than he wanted.

He found Walter's door. It was very quiet in the hall. John pressed his ear against the wood and listened. He couldn't hear any noises inside. He knocked. After a minute he knocked again. Okay. There were two possibilities. One - Walter hadn't gotten home, yet. Two - Walter was home and wouldn't answer the door. Either way, sooner or later he would have to pass through the doorway where John now stood. At least, he was pretty sure Walter would have to use this door. It didn't look like this was the kind of place that had secret passages.

John rubbed his face and tried to think. He was tired. He hadn't slept at all. He'd taken the first flight he could get, which had been at 4:30, so it was damned early even here. There didn't seem to be but one option.  He'd wait at the door. Sooner or later, going in or coming out, Walter would have to open it.

John sat down with his back against the door, his backpack in his lap.  He would just wait.

***

Something was nudging John's hip again. In his sleep-addled brain he thought it must be Kerry again. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Walter Skinner looming over him.

"Get up."

Walter stepped back to give John room to stand. When John was on his feet, Walter pushed him away from the door and unlocked it. He walked in past John, but he didn't close the door. John followed him into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

It was dark inside, but instead of turning on lights, Walter pulled the curtains back on a wall of sliding glass doors. Sunlight flooded into the room. He turned around and faced John, becoming a large dark silhouette against the daylight. John clutched his backpack to his chest. He realized he was trembling. Walter didn't say a word, and John couldn't find his own voice.

"Well?" Walter finally spoke.

"Don't send me home," John said.

Walter turned his back to John and stared out of the glass. "What should I do with you?" His voice sounded very distant and very quiet.

"Forgive me?"

Walter didn't respond. John waited and waited, and finally desperate for some answer from Walter he dropped his backpack onto the floor and went to him. He put his hands against Walter's back, and even through the coat he could feel the tension in Walter's body.

"Please, Walter, I want to be with you."

Walter shrugged him off and opened the sliding glass doors. It was sunny, but the temperature was cold and the wind seemed strong coming in from the balcony. John shivered, but followed Walter outside.

"You don't need my forgiveness. You didn't do anything wrong. What we did together...that was out of the norm, for you especially. I have no right to expect it to last. It was very nice, and I don't regret it, but it's probably for the best that you go back to the way you were."

Walter's voice was soft, but John could hear him clearly. "I want you. If anything being with Roxanne made that more clear to me. Any doubts I had are gone. I'm still attracted to women, I still like them. But I'm falling in love with you, Walter. As out of the norm as that may be, it's the truth."

Walter faced him, his coat open and his hands in his pants pockets.  His brown eyes were soft behind the lenses of his glasses, his face a little sad. He needed a shave, and there were dark circles under his eyes. John reached out and touched Walter's face. His touch was answered by the slightest sigh, but it gave John hope. He stepped closer and touched his lips to Walter's. There was no opening response, no kissing back, but he didn't resist as John pushed his tongue between his lips and teeth, forcing a kiss deep into Walter's mouth.

His hands ran across Walter's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the starched fabric. He found Walter's nipples through the cloth, rubbing a little, pinching them into hardness. He continued the one-sided kiss as his hands traveled down Walter's body, finding the zipper in his pants and lowering it. When he reached inside there was a little grunt from Walter, but he made no move to stop him, just as he made no move to help.

John broke away from kissing and dropped to his knees. The concrete of the balcony felt cold through the fabric of his pants. He pulled Walter's soft penis through the opening of his pants and stroked it with his hands
then took it into his mouth. He'd never taken it into his mouth soft before, and it was smaller, more easily managed in this state. He'd never taken it in his mouth without a condom either. He closed his eyes and focused on making it respond, making it grow hard. It seemed at first that Walter would resist him, but then he felt the heat and thickening of Walter's arousal.

Hands touched his hair, stroking it, then gripping it. Walter groaned and tried to move away. John held him, one hand between Walter's legs and the other holding the base of Walter's penis. He was fully erect now and his hips moved, thrusting his penis into John's mouth. John gagged as it hit the back of his mouth, and consciously tried to relax to allow it into his throat, allow the full length to be inside his mouth.

"Stop...stop...." Walter tried to pull away, but John would not let go and
Walter ejaculated into his mouth and throat. John swallowed frantically, but couldn't manage all of it and the saliva that had collected in his mouth. He continued to lick and suck until Walter grew soft again. As Walter withdrew from his mouth, he placed one last kiss against the head.

"Oh, John Carter," Walter said. His voice was raspy. His hand stroked John's hair.

John helped him straighten his clothes, zipping his pants back up.  Walter reached down and pulled John to his feet. He held John's face and kissed him.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"You're not the one who sleeps around."

Walter's thumbs rubbed against John's beard. John put his hands over Walter's, holding them against his face.

"When do you have to go back?"

"I fly out tomorrow afternoon at five."

"Are you tired?"

John nodded.

"Hungry?"

John smiled. "Not as hungry as I was before."

Walter shook John's head with both hands. "Be serious," he said, but he was smiling, too.

"Yeah."

"I'll fix us some breakfast and then we'll go to bed." Walter kissed him gently.

"Okay." This time the word didn't leave a lump in his throat. This time it was right.


The End