A Way Around Indecision (An ER Fic)

Second Chances

The door opened to a dimly lit room, revealing a snoozing John Carter, only slightly, flat on his back, snoring softly. On the other side of the doorway stood Peter Benton, feeling something for the man he never thought he'd feel again: annoyed.

"Carter," Peter uttered, quietly. No response. He tried again, louder, leaning in close enough to feel John's breath on his face. "Carter?" Still nothing. This man could sleep through a tornado, I swear, Peter thought. He debated going to the front desk and screaming at him into the PA system. But, in the end, he decided not to, and instead shook him gently awake. "Carter?"

To an extent, John was roused by the movement. He cracked open his eyes and squinted at Peter. "What?"

His morning voice sounded just as Peter remembered it: scratchy from a dry throat and slow, like he was still warming up. "You're gonna be late, Carter. Let's go."

John nodded along, the only motion he made. As soon as Peter left the room and shut the door, under the assumption he was right behind him, John immediately fell back to sleep.

It wasn't long before Peter barged in once more, nagging at him and snapping his fingers like old times. "On your feet, Carter — move it!"

A long, exasperated groan escaped his throat. Still, he didn't budge.

"It'll only take twenty minutes, thirty tops. Come on."

"Twenty or thirty minutes I could spend sleeping," John grumbled as he rolled away, back facing Peter.

In a tone akin to a scolding parent, Peter intoned, "Carter, I mean it."

Through his bleary gaze, John glared at him. He held it for a long time before finally giving in to the equally, unmistakable irked expression on Peter's face. "Fine," he griped under his breath, and swung his lanky legs over the edge of the bed. "but you're buying me some frozen yoghurt afterwards."

"Would you keep any of it down?" Peter plucked up the doctor's coat off the bottom of the bed and handed it to him.

Still irritated, John snatched it angrily from his grasp. "I told you, I haven't had morning sickness," As he shrugged into his coat, he muttered under his breath, "It's ironic."

Peter, however, heard it regardless. "What is?"

"Oh, the fact that I get sick from stress, blood or anything else that's gross but not from being pregnant."

"Consider yourself lucky," As he and John strolled down the corridor, he looked over and saw the exhaustion in his eyes and in how he moved. "Been on long?"

Rubbing the sleep away from his eye with one hand while covering his yawn with the other, John stretched backward, straightening his back. With a grunt, he answered, "I just got here."

"Did you get enough rest?"

"I thought I did."

Someone with bed pans in both hands nearly crashed into them. They would have, if not for Peter and his quick reflexes, ready for anything. He pulled John off to the side, away from the potential head injury, and they resumed walking.

"Thanks," The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, and he looked down at the floor, shaking, nervous hands clasped behind his back. Eventually, his focus snapped to Peter, apprehension clear and definite in his eyes. "We don't have to do this, do we?"

Peter stared ahead, barely giving John so much as a glance. "Carter, it's only an ultrasound appointment, alright?"

"Easy for you to say. You're not getting a transducer stuffed up your–"