[Hearts and Health 03.0] Urgent Care

by DJ Jamison

  Xavier sighed behind him, but eventually gave in and curled his body around Trent, draping an arm over his side. His chest pressed against Trent’s back and his knees nestled in against the back of Trent’s legs, but he kept a few inches of space between their hips.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” Xavier whispered next to his ear.

  Trent suppressed a shiver. “It’s just a bed, Xav. As I recall, we didn’t need one of those to fuck.”

  Xavier snorted. “Guess that’s true.”

  “Now, sleep,” Trent ordered.

  He felt Xavier relax as the tension finally left his body. Trent’s body would not cooperate and do the same. He felt strung-tight, hyperaware of the weight of Xavier’s arm and the soft breaths drifting over the skin of his neck. His cock was already half-hard in his boxer briefs, making them uncomfortably tight.

  He fidgeted, accidentally pressing his ass back against Xavier’s soft but sizeable cock. He froze, his breath hitching, but Xavier didn’t wake. His soft, torturous breaths continued to play havoc with Trent’s skin, inspiring a rush of goosebumps across his flesh.

  Trent slid his hand into his underwear and squeezed his cock, which had fully hardened. He bit down on his lip to suppress a moan and stroked once before he could stop himself.

  You cannot jerk it with your ex-boyfriend in the bed.

  He squeezed the base of his cock, trying to suppress the need in his body, then forced his hand away. He tried to match his breathing to Xavier’s rhythm and ease the tension from his body.

  Think about work. Think about Marge. Think about anything but fucking your ex-boyfriend.

  It was going to be a long damn night.

  ***

  Xavier and Trent didn’t have time to feel awkward about sharing a bed the next day.

  The two stumbled through a hurried morning routine, grabbing coffee and doughnuts from a nearby convenience store before heading straight to work.

  It wasn’t until the afternoon, when Xavier nearly plowed into Trent in the hallway, that they stopped to exchange a few words.

  “How’s the line looking?” Trent asked.

  He’d been going directly from one patient to the next without pause. Xavier was too, but he made regular visits up front to fetch patients so he knew they were still in the weeds.

  “Still pretty long.”

  To say that the health screening program had been a success would be a huge understatement. They were overrun with not only Quinter residents, but farmers from the surrounding rural area.

  With Marge still unwell, Xavier had run his butt off all day, not even stopping for lunch.

  She was managing the front desk, while he took patients’ height, weight and blood pressure, as well as making note of any health concerns or restrictions for Trent to review. He also served as a makeshift lab technician, when necessary, taking blood samples to be processed by a lab later.

  Although the intent was to provide free health screenings, complete with lab work, a lot of ill people had turned out, as well as those who had other health concerns that required additional diagnosis.

  The medical team had brought along some basic supplies and samples of as many medicines as they could so patients wouldn’t have to buy prescriptions, but the purpose of the trip was not to dispense medication but provide health check-ups, so there was only so much they were equipped to do.

  Trent sighed. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

  Xavier leaned back against the wall, taking the opportunity to rest his aching back for a moment. Between running back-and-forth without a spare minute to get off his feet and half a night in a flat-ass mattress, he was hurting. And he was in no mood to sympathize with Trent.

  “You kidding? I’m the one who couldn’t sleep half the night.”

  Trent placed a hand on the wall next to Xavier’s head and leaned in close. “Yeah? Well, I spent half the night awake too, Xav. After you came to my bed.”

  Shit. He hadn’t intended to crowd Trent so much he’d lose sleep too. He was the doctor on this trip; Xavier was the student. If anyone deserved better accommodations, it was Trent.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “You should be,” Trent muttered. “You made parts of me very uncomfortable.”

  Xavier’s heart skipped a beat as he realized Trent’s meaning. He wasn’t uncomfortably crowded by having Xavier in the bed; he was too turned on to sleep.

  Despite his better judgment, he felt a stirring of attraction.

  He was suddenly aware of just how closely Trent leaned in toward him. Close enough Xavier could easily tilt his head a fraction and their lips would brush. The scent of Trent’s woodsy aftershave intermingled with the musty smell of the old building they were housed in and the coffee they’d been guzzling all day.

  There was a searching look in Trent’s blue eyes as he stared at Xavier. He’d always been intense when he fixed his attention on something, and Xavier felt his gaze like a physical touch. This time, his focus wasn’t on earning an A on a paper or acing a college entrance exam; it wasn’t even about becoming a successful doctor. His focus was squarely on Xavier, as if he could study him enough to pass some new test.

  The air between them crackled with tension, and Xavier broke eye contact.

  “It was your idea,” he mumbled.

  Trent sighed and stepped back, blinking away that intense scrutiny. The moment of temptation had passed. This time.

  “I can’t be the smart one all the time,” Trent said.

  Xavier chanced a look, and saw Trent smile. There was something wistful about his smile, but at least he wasn’t angry.

  Xavier felt like an ass for toying with Trent by sharing his bed. That had never been his intention.

  “Sorry,” he said again, feeling a twinge of guilt for the sadness he read in Trent’s expression.

  Trent scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, we’re not any closer to a break. I’d better get back to work.”

  Xavier nodded and handed over his patient notes before continuing down the hall to fetch another person. Tonight, no matter how uncomfortable his bed proved to be, he was keeping his distance. No sense in them both losing sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  The following day, Xavier hustled to the lobby turned waiting room to fetch another patient. Gove City was even busier than Quinter. He hadn’t thought that was possible, especially because it was smaller. Both cities were in far western, rural Kansas and drew a lot of surrounding farmers. But at least his bed had been better the night before—if not great— and he and Trent had both gotten more rest.

  “Horace?” he called out, scanning the room. “Horace Wells?”

  An older, white-haired man with a craggy face that had seen too much weather in its 70-plus years levered himself up with a cane.

  Xavier smiled politely and waited at the end of the hall for him. They didn’t have doors, but they were using a couple of rooms off the main hallway for makeshift exam areas.

  “Right this way, Mr. Wells,” he said, as he led him over to the scales a few feet down the hallway.

  “Are you the only nurse?” The man asked, looking at Xavier with watery eyes but clear distaste in his expression. His gaze took in Xavier’s dreadlocks, which he’d pulled back into a loose bun as usual. A few dreads always escaped though, and he was far too busy to pull back the few tendrils that spilled forward to frame his face.

  Xavier forced a smile. “The only one doing this particular task. Let’s get you on the scales. Lean on me if you need a little support.”

  The old guy scowled. “Don’t need no help from the likes of you.”

  He leaned heavily on the cane, shaking, and lifted a foot. He wavered, and Xavier reached out to steady him.

  Mr. Wells recoiled and definitely would have fallen if not for Trent. He stepped out of one of their exam rooms at the right moment and must have seen the patient’s precarious position.

  Trent grabbed the patient’s arm and helped
him regain his balance while shooting a concerned look in Xavier’s direction.

  “Easy does it,” he said as he eased Mr. Wells upright. Once the man had his balance, Trent stepped back so Xavier could record the patient’s weight.

  He noted it with a shaky hand.

  Xavier’s face burned with anger. He’d experienced racism before, but rarely so blatantly. This man wouldn’t let Xavier touch him, even when falling.

  “Everything okay?” Trent asked.

  Xavier looked up, prepared to tell him yes. He was a professional, and he wasn’t going to cry over some old bigot. But Mr. Wells had other ideas.

  “It’s damn well not,” he said in a loud voice. “I want another nurse.”

  Xavier’s fist clenched around the pen in his hand. He kept his eyes fixed on the clipboard he held, unable to look at either one of them. His skin crawled, a sensation that only made him more angry. He felt as if he was glowing neon, announcing to the world he was different. Wrong somehow. It was all bullshit. He was a proud black man, but that inherent reaction to someone shaming him for the color of his skin was difficult to quash, no matter how many times it happened or how many accepting people he met. Intolerance was a bitch.

  “I’m afraid Marge is busy up front, and Xavier is better suited to helping you,” Trent said.

  “I want Marge,” he said obstinately. “Not this—”

  Trent cut in before any racial slurs could be thrown around. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

  His voice was harsh, harsher than Xavier had ever heard him speak to a patient.

  “We don’t discriminate when treating patients, and we expect the same respect in return. Xavier is here volunteering his time to offer you some free health care.”

  Mr. Wells harrumphed. “I ought to complain,” he groused, and Xavier’s chest tightened.

  Technically, Marge should be doing this. He was perfectly qualified to do these tasks as a student nurse, and his role here was simple enough there was no real challenge, but if this man wanted to make trouble ...

  Trent didn’t waver.

  “Mr. Wells,” he said firmly, “Xavier will take your blood pressure and pulse, and you’ll cooperate or you’ll have to leave. We have other patients waiting.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” he said almost meekly, though his face reddened.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Xavier murmured.

  Trent squeezed his shoulder as he passed to the next exam room, and Xavier guided a silent Mr. Wells to an empty space with a couple of chairs.

  “Sit there,” he instructed as he got out his handheld version of a blood pressure machine— essentially a cuff attached to tubing, pump and pressure gauge. He wrapped the cuff around Mr. Wells’ arm and the room filled with the puffing sounds of air moving through the tubing as Xavier rapidly squeezed and released the neoprene bladder. He had to force himself to stop squeezing — even though it made for great stress release — so he could read the gauge.

  Mr. Wells’ blood pressure was slightly elevated, though that might well be from the stress of letting a black man touch him, Xavier thought bitterly.

  He detached the cuff and set it aside, then made a note of the numbers beneath his recordings of height and weight.

  “Any particular health concerns today?” he asked, glancing up.

  Mr. Wells stiffened up. “I’ll just talk to the doctor.”

  Xavier didn’t check his sigh. “Mr. Wells, I am a medical professional. It’s my job to provide the doctor with useful notes. Let me do my job, please.”

  Mr. Wells flushed a darker color. “Been having pain. Down there.”

  Xavier followed the man’s vague gesture between his legs.

  “Can you be more specific?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  “My balls,” the man blurted before breaking into a series of hacking coughs.

  Xavier nodded, making a note. It seemed karma had come around, at least in terms of embarrassment. He couldn’t help but enjoy Mr. Wells’ discomfort a tiny bit, but he made sure it didn’t show on his face.

  “I’ve made a note of that, as well as this nasty cough. Have you been sick or is it persistent?”

  He gave Mr. Wells a moment to catch his breath. “Had it—” cough “— long time.”

  Xavier nodded and added to his notes for Trent. “Wait here. The doctor will be in soon. I’ll get you some water for that cough.”

  He didn’t wait for the thanks he knew would never come. Xavier stepped out, and made his way to the small kitchenette and filled a cup. On his way back to the room, Trent stepped out and lifted his eyebrows.

  “Okay?” He asked.

  “No,” Xavier said sharply.

  Trent stepped forward, looking ready to do battle for him. A sweet but unnecessary gesture.

  Xavier held up a hand. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “If he’s disrespecting you—”

  Xavier shook his head. “He’s old. Probably grew up being taught that way.”

  “So that makes it okay?” Trent asked, looking shocked by Xavier’s answer.

  “No, it makes me a nurse who’s going to do his job.” He thrust the clipboard at Trent. “Here are my notes. I’m going to deliver this water and fetch the next patient.”

  “Okay, then.”

  Xavier turned to go, stopping short when he felt Trent’s hand brush his. The doctor grasped his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  “You’re doing great.”

  Xavier held his gaze for a long moment. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  ***

  Hours later, Trent approached the table where Xavier had joined Marge to finish labeling lab samples for pick-up. Without their own facilities, they had to be shipped to a nearby location. The last of the patients had been seen, and the work of packing up and heading for the next location had begun.

  Now that the destinations were closer together, they drove to each new city in the evening and did the bulk of their health screenings the following morning, usually wrapping up in mid-afternoon so they could start the whole process over again. And with all their free time, they squeezed in hospital tours and meetings with local health professionals to network as representatives from the Ashe hospital.

  “Let’s get a proper dinner before we head out tonight,” Trent said.

  “I can’t,” Xavier said, waving a hand to the tray of small bottles before him. Marge had labeled and stored them, but they had to be packaged for transport.

  “Oh, go on,” Marge said. “I can cover this.”

  Xavier shook his head. “It’s not fair to leave you with all the work.”

  She scoffed. “Pfshaw. I’ve been sitting here on my rump all day while you two have been running your buns off. Go. You deserve a small break before we hit the road.”

  Xavier reluctantly agreed, feeling awkward about leaving Marge behind. Trent promised to bring her something to eat when they returned to pack up. Two days in, and Xavier was already sick of this trip.

  They went to a small café, which was fairly busy for a weeknight. Given that it was one of two restaurants they spotted in town, maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

  The sign said seat yourself, so they made their way to a booth and both ordered coffee when a friendly but worn-looking waitress appeared.

  “You doing okay?” Trent asked, once they’d had coffee delivered and each placed an order: Trent for a three-egg omelet with ham and cheese; Xavier for the more substantial country-fried steak dinner.

  “Sure,” Xavier said with a shrug before sipping his coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “It’s just that old guy today—”

  Xavier snorted. “You mean the racist? I’ve dealt with that before, believe me. People aren’t always quite that obvious, but racism is alive and well.”

  “I don’t remember that ever coming up when we were dating,” Trent said tentatively.

  They hadn’t spoken much about their time together, not since they first reconnected and Xavier re
fused to reignite the spark that existed between them. That flame had never gone out, but Xavier had tried to avoid fueling it. A trip down memory lane didn’t seem like the greatest idea.

  “I don’t know. There were definitely some racist assholes in high school giving me shit because I was black. Or worse, the one other black kid in my grade treating me like an imposter because I was half-white. I never entirely fit in anywhere.”

  “Why didn’t I know this?” Trent mused. “That must have felt isolating.”

  “I guess, but I had my family,” Xavier said, “and then I had you. I tried to ignore everyone else. I figured I’d be leaving Ashe behind. Hell, all we ever really talked about were our plans to go out into the world and become amazing doctors.”

  Strangely, Trent flushed. “I’m sorry if that’s all I seemed to care about.”

  Before Xavier could figure out how to respond to that, the waitress reappeared with two large plates of food. Xavier was starving, so he dug in, and they didn’t speak again until they’d worked their way through half their meals.

  While he cut and chewed, Xavier thought about Trent’s comment. Had his boyfriend been fixated on the future and the amazing life he wanted as a rock star surgeon? Yes. But then, Xavier had been caught up in that excitement. For their entire junior year, he was dying to just graduate already and get on with his life. But after senior year started, the reality began to creep closer. He’d have to leave his family behind, which was scary. He’d have to pay for school somehow, and that meant heaps of loans if he didn’t win a top-tier scholarship, which he wasn’t sure he could do.

  When Twyla’s loser baby daddy left, it was almost a relief to have an excuse not to go.

  But he wasn’t ready to talk about all that with Trent. That would only open old wounds. He wanted to know why the man who had been absolutely passionate about becoming a surgeon was instead working in a small-town clinic. What happened after he left Ashe and went to school?

  “Why aren’t you a surgeon?” Xavier asked. “That was your dream. When you said you were back in Ashe, I figured you were on the surgical team.”