Ruin the Friendship (1/?) - Taurus Venus
Pairing: John Carter x f!reader
Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was the easiest and hardest thing you’ve ever done.
CW: fluff, eventual smut, best friends to lovers, not a slow burn!, alcohol, swearing, carter being down horrendously bad
AN: New series! This is set around season four, and I plan to include some ER plot points within the fic but I’ll be taking liberties with characters and the timeline. I hope you enjoy, and please lmk if you want adding to the tag list!
PART TWO |
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John Carter was a Gemini, which meant he sometimes talked too much. John Carter was also a Taurus Venus - he was unsure exactly what this meant, but Randy had insisted it was a good thing. It meant that he liked the finer things in life, expressed love through physicality, and when he fell in love, he fell hard. Carter had never believed that stars could tell your fortune or predict your personality, but as the nurses babbled about their weekly horoscopes, he couldn’t stop thinking about that last point. When he fell in love, he fell hard. That also happened to be the exact moment he locked eyes with you across the break room - the new med student, who had started two weeks ago. You’d brought him homemade cookies that morning, a thank you after he let you use him as a practice dummy for IV placements. And when you shot him a shy smile as you poured a cup of lukewarm coffee, Carter realised. Oh. He’d fallen hard.
Three years later, and you were both still working together as residents in the ER. Well, Carter was technically still an intern after a somewhat disastrous surgical rotation. Days ended with hospital rooftop debriefs as Chicago’s skyline lit up around you. The few lunch breaks you had were spent at Doc Macgoo’s ordering burgers and milkshakes. You drank together after break-ups, and spent countless hours perfecting your Peter Benton impressions. Practically the entire ER knew about Carter’s hopeless crush on you. The air vibrated with gossip whenever the two of you were together - which was often - and Carter had to endure implorations of ‘just tell her already!’ almost every day.
Carter had politely declined when Mark had invited him to his ‘thank you’ party. He’d spent his entire childhood being paraded around black tie events by Gamma, where old socialites would pinch his cheeks and tell him he was getting ‘almost as handsome as Bobby’. So, how did he end up eating sub-par finger food with a room full of tipsy doctors and nurses on a work night? You’d asked. And Carter would do anything you asked him to.
He watched from the sidelines as you danced the Macarena with Chuny and Malik, your smile brighter than any of the cheap string lights hanging above you as you swayed your hips to the beat. When the song ended, your eyes found his, the way they always seemed to, and Carter felt his heart flutter as you weaved through the floor of dancing bodies towards him.
“You planning to stand in the corner all night?” You asked as you stole a sip of his punch, leaving a trace of your lipgloss on the cup.
“Maybe. I kinda like it. It makes me feel all brooding and mysterious, like Benton.” Carter replied with a lopsided grin, trying to hide the way his eyes momentarily dropped to your cleavage. “You, uh … you look nice tonight.”
A blush. You totally blushed. The dim lighting concealed it slightly, but Carter noticed the way you bit back a smile.
“Thanks. You look good too. Very James Bond.” You said, giving his perfectly knotted tie a quick tug.
Carter felt like you’d tazed him. In that moment, you could have tugged him down to his knees by that stupid tie and walked him around the party like a show pony. A minute in your presence already had him running hot. What was wrong with him tonight? You were his best friend. Your hands slipped into his as you tugged him towards the dancefloor, a goofy grin on your face.
“C’mon Carter, show me your moves.”
Carter’s legs started moving before his brain even caught up, following you like a lost ship being called towards a siren song.
“Wait. No, no, no. Absolutely not.” He protested, rooting his feet to the spot. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
You pulled harder as the music switched to ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA, half-singing, half-shouting the lyrics at him over the beat. Carter sighed deeply and resigned to his fate, taking the opportunity to lace his fingers with yours as he twirled you around. You giggled with delight as he pulled you back against his chest, and the two of you swayed together towards the middle of the floor. Carter ignored the knowing smirks the nurses shot him across your shoulder, keeping his attention firmly on you as you danced in front of him, never letting go of his hands.
“What the hell is that supposed to be? You look like you need to pee!” You laughed as he joined in, stepping clumsily in time with the lyrics.
Carter laughed with you, twirling you again, just to see you smile. “I told you, I can’t dance! Gamma always said I have two left feet.”
The two of you kept dancing like a couple of dorks, your moves getting progressively stupider as you went on. When the music faded into a slower song - Mazzy Star - the dance floor began to thin out. Carter was ready to call it quits too, until you pulled him back, chest to chest, and looked up at him with a small smile.
“Thought you were gonna dance with me?”
He had somehow found himself in Heaven and Hell at the same time. Carted swallowed thickly as he rested his hands lightly on your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin material of your dress. You wrapped your arms around his neck and shuffled closer, breath hitching slightly as the space between you disappeared completely.
Fade into you … I think it’s strange you never knew…
The room around you seemed to disappear. Carter could feel the watchful eyes of your colleagues hot on his back, but everything that surrounded you both just seemed like a black void. His hands felt like they were burning, as if he was holding them over an open flame, but he couldn’t seem to pull them off you. All he could focus on was the scent of your perfume, the way your thumb brushed the nape of his neck, how your eyes sparkled in the low light. You were talking about something, but the movement of your lips - soft and shiny with sparkly lipgloss - had him hypnotised.
He couldn’t help thinking about how nice it would be to kiss them, to taste them, just once to know what it felt like. No. You were friends. He wasn’t going to make things weird by confessing his feelings. Especially not on the dance floor, in the middle of a shitty hospital party.
“Lame party, huh?”
Carter blinked slowly as you spoke, struggling to come up with a response for the simple question. “Yeah. Definitely lame…”
You seemed to be getting closer by the second, your body pressed flush against his, your lips achingly close. It would be so easy. So easy to lean down and finally put an end to the charade the two of you had kept up for the last three years. The unspoken agreement to never ruin the friendship seemed so insignificant at that moment. If he kissed you, what would happen? You could slap him, run away screaming, move to Point Barrow in Alaska so you never had to see him again. Would it be worth it? Potentially losing you forever so he could touch you, taste you, feel your lips against his, just for a second?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Carter looked down at you. Your eyes were so warm. You were wearing that private smile that only he ever got to see, and he knew that he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I just wanted to tell you that-”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The fire alarms give a millisecond of warning before the overhead sprinklers turned on, dousing the party in icy water. You shrieked as the spray drenched your hair, clinging to Carter as everyone hurried off the dancefloor. Someone shouted something about a fire in the kitchen, Doug Ross claimed that one of the nurses had used their hairspray too close to the smoke detectors in the ladies' room. Either way, the party had come to a, very wet, conclusion. Carter held his jacket over the two of you as you ducked towards the main entrance, laughing breathlessly while trying not to slip.
It was raining outside, but neither of you cared. You were already soaked, and Carter was glad to finally get out of the party - and get away from the dangerous intimacy of the dancefloor.
“Wanna come to my place to dry off?” You offered as you stood shivering in your wet clothes. “I’ll order takeout.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Carter offered you his arm with a flourish, ignoring the warmth that spread through his chest as you took it and leaned into his side. Your apartment was only a few blocks away, so the two of you decided to be brave soldiers and embrace the rain, sparing a taxi driver's seats. The downpour had slowed to a cold drizzle by the time you both stumbled into your building, soaked, flushed, and laughing like idiots. Carter followed you inside as you unlocked the door, shaking his head like a wet dog, sending sprinkles everywhere.
You rolled your eyes, flicking on the lights in your living room. It was a cozy space, a little chaotic, but still homey: books piled high on every surface, a fuzzy blanket tossed over the sofa, framed photos scattered around the walls. One of them was of you and Carter at Wrigley Field after a Cubs game.
“Will you grab us some plates while I go change?” You asked, as you kicked off your heels and headed towards the bathroom.
Carter gave you a mock salute, taking off his own damp shoes. “Aye aye, ma’am.”
He wandered into your tiny kitchen, finding the plates where they always were (second shelf on the right), and set two down on the counter. One of them was part of a fine china set that Gamma had given him on his 17th birthday - an unconventional gift for a boy still going through puberty. He’d brought you some, store bought, cookies on it when you were sick with mono during intern year, and never asked for it back. You’d gotten more use out of it than he ever did.
“Are you finally gonna let me treat you to something fancier than sub-par Italian food, or are we playing food poisoning roulette again tonight?” Carter called out to you, his voice faltering slightly as you emerged from the bathroom in a baggy t-shirt and shorts.
You plucked the menu for Giuseppe’s off your refrigerator, holding it aloft like a declaration of war. “Nope. Their garlic knots are worth the side of salmonella. Make the call.”
“Fine.” Carter sighed, picking up your phone receiver. “But I’m getting a tiramisu.”
You flopped down onto the couch with a smile. “Thank you, Doctor Carter.”
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Thirty minutes later, you and Carter were stuffing your faces with pizza as you watched the repeat of the Bears game. Neither of you were that interested in football, choosing instead to spend the duration of the second quarter making up voices for the players and coaches.
“Allen,” Carter said, making his voice gravelly. “I need to tell you something important before we break… I’m sleeping with your wife… and your brother.”
You burst out laughing, turning high pitched as another player flashed on the screen. “Peterson, how could you? I mean … I can understand my wife … but my brother? I didn’t even know I had a brother!”
The two of you leaned into each other's side, doubled over with laughter as the halftime whistle blew. Carter felt his heart race as you grabbed onto the fabric of his borrowed hoodie. You were practically sitting in his lap. Your bare foot was pressed against his thigh, burning a hole through his sweatpants. Carter cleared his throat, pushing off the couch and heading towards the kitchenette.
“I’m getting another beer. You want one?”
You blinked after him, almost dazed from his quick exit. “Uh… yeah, sure.”
Carter tried to keep his distance during the third quarter of the game, but the two of you seemed to gravitate towards each other like magnets, pressed together on your crappy couch. His pulse jumped when your pinky finger brushed against his beneath the blanket you were sharing, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving his hand closer, just enough to link his pinky with yours.
You went very still.
Carter held his breath.
Then, slowly, your entire hand slipped into his, squeezing gently. Oh.
Carter laced his fingers through yours, savouring the small intimacy. He glanced up to find you watching him, your features soft in the low light, a throw from the Bears’ QB reflecting in your eyes. Your skin was soft beneath his fingertips, and Carter found himself aching at how easily you fit together - two perfectly, imperfect puzzle pieces finally connected. The silence grew heavier, broken only by the rain pattering against the windows and the quiet chatter of the TV. You seemed just as lost as he was, your eyes flicking between your intertwined hands and his face. Carter noticed the delicate flush to your cheeks and sighed internally. Jesus, he wanted to kiss you.
You slowly slid your fingers from his grasp, rubbing your other hand over them, like he’d left a permanent mark behind on your skin. “I should go to bed. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”
The moment shattered like glass. Carter forced a chuckle, looking down at where your knees still touched. “Right. Yeah, me too. I should go.”
“You can crash here if you want. It’s still pouring outside.”
Carter’s pulse stuttered. Bad idea. Very bad idea. “I can call a cab-”
“Just as friends.” You added quickly, not meeting his eyes. “You know. Like always.”
“Okay, that’d be great. Thanks.”
You both hovered in the charged silence for a moment longer before you abruptly jumped off the couch, and headed down the hallway. “I’ll grab you some spare blankets.” Your voice was deliberately light as you called out, like you were trying to convince yourself that the entire evening hadn’t been a series of almosts. Almost kisses. Almost confessions.
Carter watched you go, sinking back onto the couch with a quiet groan. Idiot. He’d had a thousand chances tonight: on the dancefloor, in the rain, just now, and yet …
A soft thump made him look up. You’d returned with an armful of spare linens, your expression frustratingly blank as you dumped them beside him. “Pillow’s already there.” You said, nodding to the throw pillow he’d always stolen during your countless movie nights.
Carter murmured his thanks, fingers brushing against yours as he took the blankets. Your eyes locked, the invisible thread that seemed to connect you both pulled taut.
“Goodnight, Carter.” You whispered, stepping back. Reclaiming the distance that needed to exist between you.
He watched your retreating form until your bedroom door clicked shut behind you. Then, alone, with only the ESPN pundits for company, Carter pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and laughed bitterly.
He sat there for what felt like hours, making no move to make up his bed for the night. The blankets you’d given him smelled of your laundry detergent, a soft, comforting scent that made his heart ache. He reached for the remote to turn off the TV, when suddenly -
THUD.
A loud crash came from your bedroom, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Carter was on his feet in an instant, heart racing as he rushed down the hallway. He pushed open your bedroom door, and found you surrounded by the remains of your bedside lamp. The tiffany glass shade was smashed into colourful, little shards around your feet, beside a spilled glass of water and several toppled books. You balanced on one leg like a flamingo, clutching your left foot, stripped down to just your shirt and a pair of panties.
“Motherfucker!” You hissed through gritted teeth, startling slightly when you noticed him standing in the doorway. “I dropped this stupid lamp on my toe-”
Carter didn’t even think. In three quick strides he had you scooped into his arms, bridal style, carrying you away from the broken lamp as you yelped in surprise. “Dumbass.” He chuckled, voice still a little shaky from the short burst of adrenaline. “I’d rather not end up back in the ER with you tonight.”
Your arms instinctively looped around his neck, your face only inches from his. The laughter died in his throat when he realised how close you were, how right it felt to hold you in his arms.
“You can put me down now.”
“Right. Yeah.” Carter carefully set you on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering for just a second too long before he stepped back. “Give me your foot.”
You arched your brow. “Excuse me?”
“I just need to check that you didn’t get any glass in it.” He said, already kneeling to get a closer look.
You complied with a sigh, offering your foot up to him. Carter took hold of it, throat bobbing at the sight of your pink pedicure, and held it up for closer inspection. He prodded gently over every inch of your sole, waiting for a wince.
“Looks okay.” He declared with a small smile.
As he turned his attention to the broken lamp pieces, he could feel your eyes on him. When he glanced up, you were biting your lip, the way you always did when you were nervous, the way you did on the first day of your ER rotation.
“You don’t have to do that.” You pointed out softly.
Carter paused, a jagged piece of orange glass between his fingers. He looked up at you - at your tousled hair, your legs swinging off the edge of the bed, the way you pulled at the hem of your t-shirt to cover yourself. “I know.” He said, tossing the shard into the trash bin by your desk. “But someone’s gotta keep you from bleeding out on your own floor.”
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks stayed pink. “My hero.”
The tension from earlier was still sizzling between you. Carter collected the last of the glass, throwing a blanket over the disaster area until you could vacuum the tiny pieces in the morning. He straightened up and caught you watching him again. You didn’t look away this time.
“Stay.”
Carter froze. “What?”
You tugged at the sheets beside you, your gaze dropping to your lap. “Just… stay. Here. With me.” A beat. “If you want.”
This was it. The line you’d both danced around for years disappearing by the second. Carter stepped over the blanket, towards the edge of the bed. No going back. He cradled your face in his hands before he could second-guess himself. Your breath hitched as his thumbs brushed your cheeks, his voice rough with the weight of love, and lust, and everything that had ever gone unsaid. “I want to.”
And then, finally, he kissed you.
