by M. K. York
He should—he should wake Eli. He should shake him by the shoulder, ask if he needed a pillow. He really should.
He could smell Eli’s hair. When he exhaled carefully, a strand of it leaped up and tickled his nose.
He didn’t move. He didn’t fall asleep. He didn’t read.
If this was Purgatory, it wasn’t so bad. (It was awful.)
Maybe three hours into the flight, Eli shifted again. He wasn’t sure whether Eli was awake or not. Eli ended up with his face pressed into the seat next to the window. The view was being wasted on him.
Neil tipped his head back far enough to stare at the little light above him. He pushed the button to turn it off, for all the good it did.
Coming into Chicago wasn’t bad. He reached out and gently shook Eli’s shoulder as they started the descent in earnest.
Eli shook his head a little, looking bleary. His hair, usually neatly combed, was ruffled, one piece flattened against his forehead.
“We’re almost there, sleepyhead,” said Neil softly. He felt like if he talked too loud he’d break the spell.
Eli gave him a slow smile. Neil could feel his heart breaking.
* * *
They shuffled off the plane together, more tired than the actual flight time would have predicted. Eli kept rubbing at his eyes, and Neil helped the woman get her bag out of the overhead bin.
“Is there a hotel shuttle?” asked Neil.
Eli shook his head. “Let’s share a cab. Did you see Roger?”
“Liddell? Yeah, he’s up ahead.”
They managed to catch up to Liddell and Wei, who both looked disgruntled. It turned out Wei had called for an Uber ride, so they were expecting a car for two, not four.
“Thank you anyway,” said Eli. “We’ll just get a cab. I need to get some sleep before tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be a very long day,” Wei agreed sharply.
They found a cab in the line. Eli was already nodding off before they even got to the hotel. Neil had to remind him to grab his bag, and Neil paid the cabdriver while Eli protested weakly.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Eli blinked hard several times, like he was trying to clear his eyes. “I feel like I haven’t really woken up since I got off the plane.”
“We’ll get you upstairs and then you can crash out.” Neil stepped up to the check-in counter. “Hi, we have a room? Carmona and Newcombe? We’re with the conference.”
“Of course, sir,” said the clerk. “May I see your ID?”
He dug his license out of his wallet and held it out. Eli was squinting in at the gift shop. “Forget something?” he said to Eli.
“I feel like I must have, but I can’t think what.”
“If it comes to you, let me know.”
The clerk slid their card keys back to them, and finally they were headed for the elevator. They were up high—the sixteenth floor.
“Do you like heights?” asked Neil as he fumbled with the key card. It took him three tries to get the swipe so it lit green. “First the window seat, now this.”
Eli smiled vaguely, watching Neil’s hands. “I do, actually.”
“Figured. Which bed do you want? Let me guess, the one by the windows.” It was a nice room, with big windows across one side that almost made up for the total lack of any other living space. One tiny desk was crammed up against a wall. There were, as promised, two queen beds.
Eli nodded, walking over to drop his bag on the coverlet. “I’m going to brush my teeth and go to sleep, I think,” he said. “What time is it here?”
Neil checked his phone. “Looks like it’s—God. Almost midnight.”
“Great. Definitely just going to sleep.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Eli grabbed a fistful of things out of his bag and went into the bathroom for a couple of moments before emerging in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, and as Neil went into the bathroom he heard Eli rummaging through the supplies under the TV stand. There was a clinking sound, and when Neil came out Eli handed him a glass. “If you want one.”
“Thanks,” said Neil. Eli got himself water and then practically collapsed into bed.
Neil was too tired that night to do much but crawl under the covers himself. He set his phone’s alarm for bright and way too fucking early, and despite the unfamiliar bed, he was asleep in no time.
* * *
In the morning he woke up to his alarm, buzzing silently under his pillow. There was a crack of light from the bathroom door. The blackout curtains were pulled, unnecessarily, he figured, as it was still a quarter to six.
He was pushing back the curtains when Eli came out of the bathroom. He turned around to say something, but the words died on his lips, because Eli had clearly just gotten out of the shower. His hair was sticking to his temples and slicked back, shining wet, and he was holding a T-shirt he was turning right side out.
Everything Neil had suspected about his body from the way he moved was being vindicated, gloriously. He was lean but muscled, and his broad shoulders were even better without a shirt over them.
Eli blinked at Neil, and Neil realized his mouth was still open. He made himself ask, “Are you finished with the bathroom? I was going to grab a quick shower too.”
Eli nodded. A drop of water was running down the side of his face from his hairline.
Neil grabbed his entire bag and escaped into the bathroom, and he just stood under the water, motionless, for a minute after he got into the shower. Shit. Shit.
* * *
When he came back out, Eli was completely dressed, and Neil was almost ready to go.
“No wrinkles?” Eli gestured at Neil’s shirt with his chin.
“I have a system for packing, and I hang it to steam while I shower. It’s not perfect, but it does okay.”
Eli nodded, tying his final shoelace as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Looks like it works. Continental breakfast runs until eight. I was thinking about getting a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll join you,” said Neil, and then realized Eli might not have wanted the company. But Eli smiled.
“Great.”
* * *
The continental breakfast was in a long, narrow room off to the side of the main entrance. He grabbed coffee, and after some consideration, a bagel that felt like he could probably bowl with it. The toaster was constantly occupied, so he gave up on it and hunted down some cream cheese.
Eli tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you want to sit or just go straight over to the conference?”
“Let’s sit for a minute. There’s going to be a lot of standing today.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I wore compression socks. I know my feet are going to be killing me tonight.”
Neil laughed. “Secret’s safe with me.”
They found a rickety table for four with no current occupants and ate mostly in silence. Eli had a bowl of fruit that Neil glanced at, thinking he should have gone for something healthier.
“I’ll burn through these in an hour and be starving,” said Eli. “I should have gotten a bagel like you.”
Neil shook his head. “This thing’s a hockey puck. You saved yourself the experience.”
After they ate, they made it into the conference, wading through the chaos to the registration table. It took some effort to get their badges, but then they compared programs.
“Think I’ll do this thing on vascular surgery,” said Eli.
“I’m signed up for the session on emergency general surgery.”
“See you at lunch?”
“If we live that long.”
Eli laughed once, musically, before heading off toward the listed room.
* * *
The first day was murderous, and there
were six days of it to live through. Eli texted him when the sessions were over.
Room service dinner?
Read my mind, said Neil.
They got to the elevators at the same time. The mirrors lining them made Neil a little dizzy on the way up.
“How was yours?”
“Long-winded,” said Eli, which was about as cutting as he usually got. “Yours?”
Neil wiggled his hand in the air. “So-so. I feel like I learned some useful things, at least.”
“Good.”
That time, Neil swiped them into the room with no problem. “Is there a menu around here?”
“Check the desk drawer,” Eli called.
The menu was tucked in there, sure enough. “‘Bleu’ cheeseburger, steak—they’re really going American traditional here,” he called into the bathroom, where Eli was making rattling noises with the door open.
Eli emerged again, sans button-up, holding a hanger with his jacket draped over it in one hand and his shoes in the other. “If they have anything that looks like a baked potato, get me one. I’m starving.”
“Yeah, they do. Okay, baked potato with the fixings for you, cheeseburger for me.”
Neil called in the order while Eli hung his suit up in the closet. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Eli head back over to the bed and dig out a pair of sweatpants from his bag. Eli stripped out of his dress pants and tossed them on the bed, pulling on the sweatpants, and Neil tried to focus on talking to the bored person on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah, room 1638,” he said to them. “Thanks.”
When he turned back around, Eli had propped his feet up on the bed over the covers and was wiggling his toes, glaring at them.
“Feet hurt?” Neil asked.
“As predicted. Do you mind if I watch some television?”
“Knock yourself out.” He tossed Eli the remote control from next to the television.
It turned out Eli liked Law & Order reruns, which called for a little bit of ribbing before Neil settled in on his bed to watch them too. Dinner came; they tucked in enthusiastically, despite the time difference.
“You know,” said Eli while they watched Lennie take the perp into custody, “I used to wonder if this show bothered lawyers and cops the way ER bugged doctors.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“So I asked a lawyer I ran into a while later, and she just laughed. She said it wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the best, either.”
“Not exactly a rousing endorsement.”
“I watch it guilt-free, though.”
Neil was watching Eli, face in profile, turned to the television screen.
“Yeah.” He wished he could be guilt-free, too.
* * *
The next morning, he woke up to his alarm again, but this time, Eli was still sleeping. He snuck into the bathroom with an armful of clothes.
When he came back out, hunting for a comb, Eli was up and nodded at him on his way into the bathroom.
He was puttering around the room when Eli came back out, shirtless again, like he was trying to give Neil a heart attack. “What session are you doing today?” Neil asked, pretending to be absorbed in the conference program as he sat at the tiny desk.
“One on echo.” Eli had his head down in his bag as he sorted through it. “Damn.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think I packed enough undershirts.”
“I always pack extra,” said Neil, before he could think better of it, maybe suggest that hotel gift shop. “Do you want to borrow one of mine?”
Eli lifted his head from his bag. “Really? That would be great.”
“Yeah, here.” He pulled one of the plain white T-shirts out of his bag and tossed it to Eli. “I usually bring a couple of spares.”
“Thank you.” Eli was already pulling it on over his head. It was just a little tight on him across the shoulders and chest, even though it hung long. Neil’s mouth went dry. “What are you doing today?”
“Minimally invasive skills workshop.”
“Oh, that should be fun.”
“Yeah, I love playing with robots.”
Eli laughed, shrugging on his button-up. “Who doesn’t?”
“You’re not even a surgeon,” Neil pointed out. “You watch us play with robots.”
“So much the better. No pressure.”
Neil rolled his eyes at Eli’s smirk and went back to the program. “Breakfast again?”
“Sure.”
* * *
The minimally invasive surgery skills workshop turned out to be a blast. He was paired with a surgeon who couldn’t have been much older than he was, with a strong Indian accent and a sense of humor that left Neil struggling to contain his laughter at highly inappropriate times.
“I’m not—shut up!” Neil whispered to the guy.
“You shut up,” he murmured without letting his lips move, somehow.
The guy took a selfie of them with one of the robots and posted it to Twitter, #acs #surgerybros.
It was a good day, but by the end of it, when he was thinking about whether to get dinner or go upstairs to die, he was profoundly relieved to see a text from Eli asking if he wanted to get dinner just down the street. If you can walk that far, Neil texted back. What with your support hose and all
Hush up, whippersnapper, said Eli. He sent him the name and address of the restaurant. Meet you there.
It was a remarkably small Chinese place, and Neil would have thought it would be packed with all the surgeons in town, but it was only three-quarters full or so. When he walked in, he spotted Eli immediately, in animated conversation with Dr. Liddell. Great.
He pulled up a third chair to join them.
“—so what they’re saying is that diagnostic use of echo can reasonably be expanded,” said Eli. “Hi, Neil.”
Liddell nodded tightly at him. “Dr. Carmona. I suppose you think echo doesn’t get its due, either.”
“I was at a minimally invasive session today, so I’m afraid I didn’t catch the debate.”
Liddell sat back, still frowning. “Well, I was at the same session as Elias here, and I just have to say I disagree.”
“Is that a menu?” Neil picked it up from next to Liddell’s elbow. “Do you mind if I take a look at it?”
Neil spent most of dinner watching Eli and Liddell argue, Eli leaning forward and saying intently, “Roger,” as Liddell kept saying that it was critical to be able to hear what you were looking for instead of having to go hunting for it. Neil was deeply grateful the food was good.
The three of them walked back to the hotel together. Liddell had relaxed a bit after dinner and a couple of beers, and he was clearly feeling more conversationally generous. “So, Dr. Carmona, how’s Elias as a roommate? He was going to be staying with Chaudry, but he had a family emergency.”
“Oh, no,” said Neil. “I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Yeah, it’s all right, though. His father, I think. Man hasn’t been in good health for some time, so Chaudry’s been—Well. He’s had some time to prepare.”
“Uh.” Neil paused. “Well. Eli’s fine. No snoring. That’s really my only requirement.”
Liddell laughed. “Now there’s something! Wei snores like he’s trying to win a contest. Next year I’ll room with you, Elias.”
“It’s a date,” said Eli. His smile looked a little pinched.
Liddell elbowed Neil. “Speaking of, I’ve got a nephew I think you should meet.”
“Really.” Neil tried to keep his dawning desperation from creeping over his face. Over Liddell’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Eli watching him with an expression that was half sympathy, half restrained laughter.
“Yeah, Kevin’s a g
ood boy. His mother told me about him this year. He’s a little young for you, I think he’s finishing up his undergrad. But look at it this way, that’s as young as any trophy wife in the department, and he’s got a design major, so it’s not like he can support himself in the style to which he’s become accustomed.”
Neil had to feign a coughing fit. Eli pounded him on the back, obviously faked concern on his face.
“Not coming down with something, are you?” Eli asked.
Liddell shook his head grimly. “Those planes are just cesspools. We’re all going to have URIs by the time we get back.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if you were right, Roger.”
They shook off Liddell when they got back to the hotel. “Think I’m going to head up and get some sleep,” said Neil.
Eli nodded. “I wanted to catch up on some reading.”
In the elevator, Neil had to give up and start laughing. Eli joined in, and by the time they got off at their floor, Neil was practically wheezing. “Can you imagine, me with a Liddell, it’s like marrying into the Lannisters.”
“Just don’t reject his nephew too openly or he’ll have you beheaded.” Eli’s mouth was still twisting in a messy grin.
When they got in, Eli didn’t even bother to go to the bathroom to change; he just flipped on the television and started stripping off his button-up and his slacks, tossing his suit jacket onto a hanger. Neil bent his head to untie his shoes. Getting caught looking—well. He wasn’t worried about Eli not, not liking him anymore, but it would still make things awkward.
Eli groaned softly, and the noise went through Neil like a shock. He had to take a deep breath before he turned and looked back over his shoulder. “You okay?”
Damn. Eli was lying back on the bed in his—Neil’s—T-shirt and his boxers, arm flung up behind his head, eyes shut. He looked like a centerfold.
“I’m fine. My feet are on fire, though.”
“You could soak them?”
“I don’t think we have any Epsom salts here, and I’m just too tired to try to find any.” Eli wiggled his toes and groaned again.
The noise went straight to his cock. Neil heard himself say, “Would you like a foot rub?” before he could stop his idiot mouth.