Work Text:
1.
Wolf raises his hand then drops it. A second later he raises it again and pulls the trigger, pressing the flashing blue button on the machine.
Nothing happens.
He waits a second, and then another, then presses the button again.
This time he presses it harder and longer and when he pulls away the machine whirs and clunks and the button flashes red.
“Oh,” Wolf says, his hands hovering over the machine like he’s trying to comfort it but doesn’t know how. “Okay. Um.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just break the one nice thing this hospital has.”
Wolf turns toward the figure in the doorway.
Tall. Very tall. Lanky, too, pale arms crossed over a broad chest covered in dark blue scrubs. Long legs. Expensive sneakers. Judgmental gaze.
Dr. Nichols.
“I just want a cup of coffee.”
Dr. Nichols nods. “That machine does that.”
“Not for me it doesn’t.”
Dr. Nichols sighs as he pushes himself away from the door and crosses the room. “Is there water in it?”
“How could I know that?”
Nichols gives him a flat look and makes a shooing motion with his hand. Wolf steps back and watches as Nichols lifts a tank off the back of the machine.
“It’s empty.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because that’s how it works,” Nichols says as he brings the tank over to the sink to fill it.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“Because it’s a coffee maker. People know that.”
“This is not a coffee maker,” Wolf says as Nichols slots the filled tank back into place. “This is a….a…contraption.”
“How old are you?” Nichols asks as he opens the drawer beneath the machine revealing three neat rows of little, plastic cups.
“Why are there so many?”
“Different flavors,” Nichols says as he grabs one with a green lid and opens the top of the machine then sets it inside before he closes it again. The button flashes blue and when Nichols presses it, it stays blue and the machine hums happily. A moment later coffee steadily drips into the mug Wolf set in place earlier.
“See,” Nichols says. “Easy.”
Wolf shakes his head. “You know what else is easy? A regular machine without all the buttons and the moving parts. Why don’t we have one of those?”
“We used to,” Nichols says as the machine makes another noise and the coffee stops dripping. “But no one ever finished off a pot so it would go cold and get wasted. Or someone would finish it off and not make a new one. It got ugly. HR had to get involved.” He rips open a sugar packet and stirs it in. “Now we have a single serve machine that everyone loves and knows how to use.”
“Debatable,” Wolf says as he reaches for the mug only to have Dr. Nichols pull it back.
“This is mine,” he says as he takes a sip. “I made it. You watched me make it. You can make your own.”
“Or I buy a regular machine and I keep it in my office.”
“You can,” Dr. Nichols says as he takes another sip. “But that won’t get you a coffee right now.” He reopens the drawer with a smile. “What flavor would you like?”
2.
Wolf stands in the doorway, the heat from the paper cups bleeding into his hands as Dr. Nichols works his way through a pile of paperwork at his desk.
He should really just go. Let Dr. Nichols be. They haven’t had the easiest day and maybe him being here will make things worse. If things could even get worse.
It’s bad, Wolf knows. It’s bad that he took Wyatt out of the hospital less than an hour before he was supposed to have brain surgery and brought him to a dive bar in New Jersey to meet with his estranged daughter. It’s bad that Dr. Nichols had to come find him and it’s bad that Wolf had to perform a transorbital ventricular puncture in the backseat of Dr. Nichols’ car.
Maybe he should just leave it.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me all night or are you planning on coming in at some point?”
Wolf startles and Nichols looks up from his work, brows raised.
Wolf steps into his office. “I brought coffee.”
“I can see that.”
“This one is for you,” Wolf says as he sets one of the cups on his desk. “Think of it as an olive branch.”
Nichols hums as he reaches for the cup. “For what?”
Wolf rolls his eyes. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
“I’m sorry for taking Wyatt out of the hospital,” Wolf sighs. “I had my reasons, and I think they were legitimate, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t also dangerous.”
“And you won’t do it again.”
“And I probably won’t do it again,” Wolf tells him and Nichols nods.
“I’ll take it, thank you Dr. Wolf.”
Wolf nods, his fingers tapping against his cup and Dr. Nichols stares.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes, actually,” Wolf says as he sits in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “I’m sorry about what happened in the car.”
“The ventricular puncture? We’re never doing that again, ever, but it was necessary and it probably saved Wyatt’s life. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“No, I mean the message…from Dustin.”
“Oh,” Nichols says as he sits back.
“I’m sorry that I heard that. It wasn’t any of my business.”
“It’s not really a secret, Wolf.”
“That you’re gay or that you’re good in bed? Sorry,” he adds quickly and Nichols huffs a laugh. “I’m gay, too.”
“Wolf, I know.”
“How?”
“It’s not a secret, is it?”
“I guess not,” Wolf says. “I don’t know.”
“It isn’t,” Nichols tells him. “But I get what you’re trying to do, and thank you.”
Wolf nods and slowly gets to his feet. “I should let you get back to work. I’m sorry, again, and thanks. And congrats on the sex l, I guess.”
Nichols laughs and raises his cup. “Thank you, Wolf.”
Wolf makes his way to the door where he lingers, eyes roaming over Nichols’ body before he forces himself to turn away.
3.
Wolf doesn’t stop at this coffee shop often. Or ever, really.
It’s the type that decorates their front window for the holidays, sells t-shirts and hats with their logo on them, and advertises seasonal specials on a blackboard out front, written in big, bubble letters in bright colors.
Right now they’re offering a blueberry cobbler latte with housemaid blueberry syrup, topped with brown sugar foam and a cinnamon crumble.
It sounds terrible. Wolf would never get it. He’d walk right by the sign and not think twice but he just happened to glance through the front window, adorned with hand painted daisies and sunflowers, and spotted Dr. Nichols sitting at a table in the corner, reading a book. And…well.
There’s a bell above the door that rings when he walks in, giving him away. The workers behind the counter welcome him in and Dr. Nichols looks up and Wolf thinks about running.
Instead he makes his way over to Nichols, who smiles tiredly when he gets close. It’s understandable. It’s been a long day even though it’s only eight thirty in the morning. Overnight shifts will do that.
“I thought you were going home,” Wolf says and Nichols nods.
“Yeah, I was. I am. I’m on my way, I just need to decompress a little. I don’t like to bring work home with me.”
“That’s smart,” Wolf says. “That’s the exact opposite of what I do, but it’s smart.”
Nichols huffs a laugh then gestures to the empty chair beside him. “Do you want to sit?”
Wolf nods and sits. The table is small and their knees bump beneath it but neither of them attempt to shift away.
“Are you okay?” Wolf asks him and Nichols frowns.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just…after everything with Steve and the military—.”
“I wasn’t a marine, Wolf.”
“Okay.”
“And I have really good healthcare.”
“That’s good.”
“I don’t worry about having CTE or PTSD.”
“Okay.”
If Nichols were a patient he’d probably create contact, touch his arm, try to comfort him and tell him that it’s okay, that he’s here if he ever needs to talk.
“Is that the blueberry drink?” Wolf asks, pointing at the plastic cup on the table.
“It’s good,” Nichols says as he moves the cup closer to Wolf. “Do you want to try?”
“No, no thanks.”
“C’mon,” Nichols says, pushing it closer, still. “You can’t judge it unless you try it.”
Wolf rolls his eyes but takes the cup, puts his mouth on the same straw Nichols has been using.
“It’s sweet,” Wolf tells him, his eyes not leaving Nichols’ lips. “I like it.”
4.
“Are these bagels for anyone?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Kind of?”
Nichols freezes, his hand hovering over the bag, unsure.
“They were a gift,” Wolf tells him.
“From a patient?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s a bagel,” Nichols says. “Can I have one or not?”
“A man gave them to me.”
Nichols sighs and grabs a coffee pod out of the drawer then sets it in the machine.
“I feel like I’m going to need some coffee for this conversation. Do you want another cup?”
“Sure,” Wolf says as he passes over his empty mug. “The last case was a group of teenage girls—friends—they were—they thought they were…” He stops and waves his hand. “It’s not really important to the story, what’s important is that their principal stopped by with bagels to thank me.”
Nichols nods and leans back against the counter. “That was nice of him.”
“Yeah. And then he asked me out.”
“Oh.” Nichols shuffles his feet, crosses his arms over his chest then uncrosses them just as quickly. “That was really nice of him.”
“I said no. I don’t even really know why I said no, but I did. He was attractive and kind and he brought me bagels and I should’ve said yes and I didn’t.”
“It’s not too late,” Nichols says. “I’m sure you could call him.”
“I don’t want to. I do, but I don’t, I’m not good at this.”
“I can tell,” Nichols says as he passes Wolf his mug.
“I don’t think I handle rejection well.”
“He asked you out, Wolf. You rejected him.”
Wolf drops his head into his hands and groans. “I know.”
“I really wish I knew what was happening here, Wolf.”
Wolf sighs and drops his hands. “He wants me now, but how long will he want me for? We go out, I get attached, he realizes I’m too….me, and then it’s over. Why put myself through that?”
“No one is saying you have to marry him, Wolf. You could just have fun.”
“I don’t really do that. I don’t do casual, or serious. It’s been a long time since I’ve….” He makes a motion with his hand and Nichols nods.
“I see,” he says as he sits down across from Wolf. “You know there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I know,” Wolf snaps.
“And someday, the right guy will—.”
“Please stop,” Wolf interrupts, "I know where this is going and all it’s going to do is make me feel pathetic.”
Nichols holds his hands up then looks back to the bag of bagels on the counter.
“So, can I have one or not?”
Wolf rolls his eyes fondly, his hands curled around the mug, and nods.
5.
“Do you want coffee? I’d offer tea but don’t think either of us will be sleeping tonight so we might as well have what we really want.”
“This is my house,” Wolf tells him. “I can make it.”
“You’ve done enough today, let me.”
“Do you know how to use my coffee maker?”
“Wolf,” Josh says, “I’m pretty sure my parents had this exact same maker when I was in high school and it was twenty years old then. I'm sure I can manage.”
Too tired to bicker, Wolf raises a middle finger in Josh’s direction and Josh laughs softly.
It’s nice. Wolf could get used to the sound. He could also get used to the sight of Josh in his kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, trying to familiarize himself with the space, shuffling around in socked feet.
It’s a nice distraction from the reality of the situation. That Roman is lifeless in the next room. That Alex is grieving beside him. That there’s nothing Wolf can do to make it better or easier or right.
The rest of the team has been gone for a while now. Alex wanted to be alone and Wolf didn’t think they needed to see the medical examiner bringing Roman's body out of the house.
They should be here any minute now. Alex will probably follow and Josh….
Josh is still here, inexplicably. He didn’t grab his shoes and coat with the rest of the group, just said his goodbyes and stayed on the inside of the door with Wolf.
Wolf doesn’t know what to do with him. He doesn’t have people over, in his house or in his kitchen. They don’t make coffee or touch his shoulder or make soft, pleased sounds when they find the spoons.
Wolf doesn’t know when Dr. Nichols became Josh. When he went from yelling at him in the hall to puttering around his kitchen, making coffee the way Wolf likes it.
Mostly, Wolf doesn’t know what he’ll do when he leaves and the house is quiet and dark and he’s alone.
He doesn’t know he’s crying until Josh turns around, two mugs of coffee in his hands.
“Hey,” Josh says softly and Wolf shakes his head.
“I’m fine,” he says as Josh sets the coffee down and sits down beside him. “I’m fine, really, I’m okay.”
Josh runs his hand over Wolf’s shoulder and lets it settle at the back of his neck. A warm weight.
“You know you don’t have to be,” he says and Wolf sniffles and leans forward, his forehead falling onto Josh’s shoulder as he breathes him in.
+1
Wolf takes a deep breath as he stares at the machine, like a detailed instruction manual is going to pop out of the stainless steel surface and answer all his questions.
There are too many buttons, too many knobs. Some strange handle on the side and for the first time, Wolf wishes he had a phone so he could look up how to use this thing.
Maybe he can run out and buy coffee before Josh wakes up. It might be his only option.
“What are you doing?”
Wolf smiles as Josh steps up behind him and presses his lips to the back of Wolf’s neck.
“I’m trying to make you coffee but I have no idea what the hell I’m looking at.
Josh hums, his arms folding around him, fingers dipping below the elastic of Wolf’s boxers.
“It’s an espresso machine. It was very expensive.”
Wolf nods and looks around Josh’s kitchen—the artwork on the wall and the pans hanging above the double range stove. Everything in here is expensive.
“I wanted to do something nice for you since you were so nice to me last night,” Wolf tells him and Josh laughs, the feeling sending a spark down Wolf’s spine.
“Which time,” Josh murmurs and Wolf’s body flashes hot as he remembers Josh’s mouth dragging against the inside of his thighs. Josh’s fingers wrapped around his wrists, holding him down. Warm skin and soft moans.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to learn how to use this thing,” Wolf tells him and Josh presses a kiss to the side of his neck before he steps back, dragging Wolf with him.
“You don’t need to,” he says, “you just need to come back to bed.”