Chapter Text
“That’s sure to be a nasty injury!” The sports broadcaster shouted into the microphone, the crowd going silent in shock as Julian collapsed, “The first KO in his whole career!”
Julian groaned as he hit the mat, blood pooling in his mouth. It felt like his knee exploded, his mind hazy as they blew the whistle and a medic rushed towards him. Bright lights flooded his senses as he laid face up on the table. Julian could feel hands on his body, but didn’t fully register them from the pain. He’d obviously been knocked out before, but never during an actual fight. Somehow, despite everything, those stupid fucking reporters were still there, shouting questions at him.
“Fuck off…” He mumbled, his words a garbled mess of pain and blood.
News hit the public in seconds. The famous Julian Miller, the most successful boxer since James J. Braddock, had his knee dislocated during a heavyweight championship match. Whatever it was that was off with him that night, it left him badly beaten and in desperate need of help. However, he was stubborn. He was the strongest man in the world! He could survive with a little knee pain. But, a MRI showed it was a little more than just some joint pain, and if he wanted to box again, he would need physical therapy.
“C’mon, you can’t make me!” Julian glared at his manager and best friend, James.
“Are you fucking stupid? Genuinely, are your brains mush after being knocked out?!”
“I don’t need some little bitch telling me to do exercise! I already do that!”
“Julian, it’s not just exercise! If you don’t go, you won’t box again. I won’t get you another fight until you recover.” James crossed his arms.
“You can’t! I’m fine!” But Julian knew it was a lie. He needed help if he wanted to get back to boxing.
“Please!” Groaned James, “I got you the best name in the league! He’s private, and you can keep him even after you recover! I’ve heard great things about him. Tod Benson had him after he had that shoulder injury, and you saw how he fought last week.”
“It’s a guy?! James! I don’t want some fucking guy touching me and shit, no matter how ‘great’ he is!”
“Just trust me,” He sighed, “I think you’ll like him. And quite frankly, I don’t care if you don’t.”
***
“Seriously, do we have to do this?” Julian pouted, looking out the tinted windows of the car as his chauffeur drove him and James to this supposed ‘miracle worker’s’ office.
“Yes! Jesus, can you take a chill pill? This is just a trial meeting. If you really hate him that much, I can find you another one. But you need physical therapy and I’m not letting you get out of it.”
“Fucking fine!” He groaned, wincing at the pain in his knee. He knew James was right, but that didn’t make him any less pissed.
“You’re like a damn child…” James sighed, “Now, when we get there, I need you to be polite. I know you’re not happy about this, but I’m paying a shit ton of money for you to have this guy booked all to yourself.”
“I’m not an asshole,” James eyed him and he glared, “For the most part.”
The driver dropped them off outside a nice apartment building, James helping Julian limp into the lobby and the elevator. As Julian checked himself out in the reflective door, James confirmed the apartment number and floor level from the confirmation e-mail he received.
“Okay…floor 7, 17b.” He murmured to himself, making sure Julian was okay to walk before scanning the halls. Repeating the number to himself, he realized it would’ve been obvious anyway, judging by the plaque reading;
Dr. Grayson Turner - Physical Therapy Office
“Grayson, huh?” Julian mumbled, grimacing.
“That’s Dr. Turner, okay? I really don’t wanna offend this guy.” Julian rolled his eyes, but agreed to cooperate as they knocked on the door.
“Fine, but I still don’t want some masculine guy talking down on m-”
He cut himself as he nearly choked on his own saliva. The woman who opened the door was possibly the most gorgeous person Julian had ever seen. She had long blonde hair, pulled back by a claw clip, big, hazel doe eyes and old glasses tied with a chain. In simple, vintage lounge wear, Julian couldn’t get a clear look at her body but could tell she was very fit. How did he not know this Turner guy was married?
“Well, hey there,” He grinned, turning on his charm, “I guess this ‘physical’ stuff won’t be so bad, huh?” He winked. James looked mortified, “I didn’t realize Dr. Turner was married, I’ll have to stop by when he’s not home.”
“I’m Dr. Turner.” The woman said.
Oh fuck.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” James said, glaring daggers at Julian, “He’s…been hit in the head too many times.”
“Sir?” Julian said without thinking, clapping a hand over his mouth once he’d realized. Fortunately, Dr. Turner didn’t seem too upset.
“Yes. I understand your confusion, you’re not the first to make that mistake. I am Doctor Grayson Turner, I’m transgender.”
Julian felt his cheeks flush as he nodded weakly, feeling like a true asshole for the first time in a while. For a guy who beat people up for a living, he was surprisingly pretty chill most of the time. Except when he started thinking with his dick.
“I-I’m so sorry…” He murmured, embarrassed, “I wasn’t thinking. I-I didn’t mean to offend you, doctor.”
“Please, just call me Grayson,” He smiled softly, hiding his discomfort,“The ‘doctor’ thing is much too formal for my liking.”
After ashamedly entering his apartment with their tails between their legs, James and Julian followed Grayson back to his office. Inside were two massage tables that looked much comfier than the one from the hospital, some salt lamps and textbooks and a humidifier.
“If you want me to turn off the humidifier, just let me know.” Grayson said sweetly, offering a chair to James as Julian hauled himself onto the table.
“It’s fine…” Mumbled Julian, still feeling incredibly guilty about before.
“Okay!” Grayson sat next to the table, pulling over his cart and spraying some hand sanitizer on, “Now, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to do a physical examination. If anything hurts, please let me know.”
Grayson rubbed a generous amount of lotion on Julian’s left thigh before massaging it into the muscle and feeling around his knee. Hissing at the sensitivity, Julian assured that he was fine and glanced over at James. The jackass was just on his phone, likely complaining about Julian’s earlier behavior in their group chat.
“So, looking at your MRI, it looks like we just need to re-strengthen the ligaments surrounding your kneecap. I can tell moving it around a bit was painful, are you okay?”
Julian nodded, closing his eyes as Grayson began rubbing his thigh again. It admittedly felt nice, and he was finally understanding why so many people went to him after getting injured.
“So, do you enjoy boxing?” Asked Grayson, making simple conversation.
“Yeah, it’s…fun.” Julian said dumbly, unable to come up with a better response when the man’s elegant fingers were on his thighs. James chuckled, looking up from his phone only to gasp.
“Jesus, Julian! Get it under control!”
“Hm?” Julian tilted his head only to realize he was popping a massive boner. In front of his new physical therapist. Who he’d accidentally harassed just 10 minutes ago, “Oh my God! I’m seriously so sorry-”
“It’s fine,” Grayson said understandingly, “It’s a normal response, especially after such a massage.”
“Dr. Turner,” James sighed, “I promise he’ll be better behaved next time.”
After thoroughly embarrassing himself, they finally finished their trial session and Grayson led them back to his front door.
“I’ll be seeing you on Thursday, okay?” Grayson smiled. Julian only nodded, grinning sheepishly at the idea of seeing this man twice every week for the foreseeable future.
“I promise, I’ll give you a big tip for this.” Murmured James, about ready to murder Julian.
“Yeah, I’ll give him a real big tip.” Julian said, once again without thinking. James stomped on his foot, leaving him wincing as Grayson simply sighed.
“Goodbye, Julian.”
***
“Jesus, what the fuck happened back then?” James glared, shoving Julian into the cab.
“I-I don’t know! You know I think with my dick someti-”
“Yes! I’m well aware! But I’m paying that bastard $1,000 for each visit and I need you to keep it in your pants! He’s very sensitive.”
“He doesn’t seem like it…” Julian grumbled, looking out the window, “He didn’t seem too upset about it.”
“Julian! That doesn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed. Imagine if a man started hitting on you, alone in your apartment, he’s stronger and bigger than you, and there’s nothing you can do about it because he’s paying to be there.”
Julian went silent. Okay, maybe he gets it. But still! The most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen was rubbing his thigh and looking up at him with those sweet hazel eyes. How was he not going to get hard? He’s just a guy.
“Alright…I’ll lay off him next time,” Sighed Julian, “But you get it, right?”
“Yes, I get it! He’s ethereal! But you can’t just start jerking yourself off when you see him.” James said, groaning at the infamous NYC traffic.
“James, please. It’s only $1,000 bucks to have him fix my knee, how much could we pay to let me take him on a date? I bet he’d love that fancy French place on 34th.”
“No, absolutely not. He’s not a doll,” James huffed, “Listen, he’s…been through shit. That’s kinda why it costs so much to work with him.”
“Oh shit, what?” Julian grimaced, suddenly feeling terrible.
“I’m not gonna get into it here,” James glanced at the cab driver, “But I guess I’ll have to tell you or you’ll never shut up about it.”
“James!” Julian glared, but he knew James was right, “Is it like…bad bad?”
“UGH! Yes, it’s ‘bad bad!’ And of course you come in and start making eyes at him.”
“Shut up…”
***
Grayson exhaled, closing the door. Collapsing on his plush couch, he stared out at the cityscape. Why does this happen to him? Yet another attractive yet stupid man dumbing him down to a slut who likes to massage them. He had 2 PhDs, worked in the medical field since graduating, and probably read more books than Julian could even comprehend. Sure, he got paid well, but who cared about that when he couldn’t even enjoy his job.
And the worst part? Dammit, Julian was attractive! Obviously, from watching his fighting tapes, Grayson knew he was good looking. Most of his patients were, being a sports-therapist and all. However, he quickly learned that good looks don’t mean a good personality. In fact, it seemed like quite the opposite. His patients were either the meanest people on Earth, or just harassed him until he no longer accepted their money.
Julian was the same, it appeared. Grayson was really hoping he’d be different, since researching him brought up his charity for disabled children, his donations to conservation, and reporters saying he was the nicest boxer they’d ever met. What happened?
Truthfully, Grayson knew what happened, since it was what always happened. They don’t take him seriously. They see his lithe frame, delicate features and long hair and assume he’s Dr. Turner's wife. Grayson was so sick of being reduced to either his gender or his looks, which he knew were good. Not overtly cocky, Grayson was aware of his attractiveness without flaunting it. He had nice eyes, decent tits and hair that rivaled Sabrina Carpenter. But he was smart! In his opinion, intelligence was a much more admirable trait than being pretty. He just happened to be both.
“Oh, Hobbes…” He sighed, petting the fluffy golden retriever that trotted over to him. The dog seemed to be the only one who really saw him for what he was, despite the fact he probably had about 3 total brain cells. Even his best friend, Hazel, who he loved more than anything, saw him as a cold, social-inept nerd. And…he kinda was. But working with people non-stop got him a decent set of social skills, and he was very nice.
Despite the criticism of his best friend, he still grabbed his phone and dialed Hazel’s number.
“What’s up, princess?” Her snarky voice rang out of his cellphone.
“Hi, Hazel.” Mumbled Grayson, wrapping himself in a blanket as Hobbes snuggled next to him.
“Oh, that’s a bad tone. What’s got you pissed?” Hazel said, her teasing attitude dropped.
“New patient. Thought I was Dr. Turner’s wife, got a boner when I massaged him, and said he’d give me a big tip.”
“Jesus!” Hazel gasped, “That’s awful. Was his manager there?”
“Yeah, he seemed nice. Apologized a lot and said he’d pay me more to work with the guy. I’ll take it, Lord knows I can’t turn down a job.”
“Gray, if he’s really being a pervert, you don’t have to take it. There’s other physical therapists.”
“Yes, but I’m the best! He may not be very polite, but he does need help.” Grayson sighed despite himself. A people-pleaser at his core, he knew what he was getting into when he chose this field. But he did it anyway. Why?
“What’s his name? I can get Grace to trash him in the news.” Hazel’s wife, Grace, was a sports reporter known for her honest takes and reliable stats. She valued her integrity, but if she knew Grayson was being harassed again, she’d do anything to shut that creep down.
“First of all,” Groaned Grayson, “You will do no such thing. Second, it’s Julian Miller. He’s a boxer, maybe you’ve heard of him.”
“Julian Miller! Are you serious?” She gasped, “He said that shit? Grace said he’s really nice!”
“I’m not lying for fun!” He snapped, suddenly defensive. So many people said he was lying when he first told others about his other patients, and he was sick of it.
“I know,” Hazel sighed, “I’m not trying to call you a liar. I’m just surprised. He gave a bunch of money to endorse Kamala while she was running. He shits on ICE on his Insta all the time.”
“Liberals can still be assholes,” Grayson grumbled, stroking Hobbes absentmindedly, “But yeah, I was surprised. He seemed really apologetic after it happened, though. I’m tempted to believe he just…had a moment.”
“I hope so.”
“Anyway, I have another session with him on Thursday. I have to make dinner now, and I know you were making out with Grace when I called.”
“How!” Hazel wheezed, Grace laughing next to her.
“I’m psychic.” Said Grayson flatly, hanging up the phone.