Disclaimer: Just playing. I know I can't keep 'em but if I could they'd be on season 10 by now!
Thanks to Mog for her wonderful universe.
Thanks also to Phyllis for betaing this. What would I do without you?
I got the inspiration for this while watching an episode of Frasier!
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Why hadn't his alarm gone off? What time was it?
"Holy crap, I'm late!"
JD ran into the bathroom; no time for a shower, just a quick wash and brush up. He reached for the tumbler to rinse his mouth after brushing his teeth and dropped it into the sink.
He started picking up the shattered pieces of glass and cursed again. A small shard had penetrated the middle finger of his left hand and blood was now dripping steadily out and into the sink. Plucking out the offending fragment, he wrapped his hand in a towel, sighing as his mind ran through the probable berating his room-mate would launch at him on his return, when finding one of their best towels bloody.
Buck had gone out on a date the previous night and had beamed as he told his partner to make his own way in to work the next morning. He fully expected to be heading for the office the following morning from an entirely different direction. JD had shaken his head at the man's confidence, but sure enough, here he was, morning, about to travel in alone.
As he went to leave the bathroom he misjudged the door and stubbed the big toe of his right foot hard, growling out a scream as the pain shot through him; convinced it was broken, but with no time to worry about that now. Back in his bedroom he was sniffing shirts to find one he could wear that wouldn't bring about the dispensing of protective face masks in the office. He found an inoffensive white one and was about to put it on when he realized he had smeared blood all over it.
He hobbled out of his bedroom and headed for the closet containing the laundry baskets. Rifling through the clean laundry, carefully avoiding touching anything with his bloody finger, he whooped as he found a blue shirt he could iron. He pulled out the iron and the ironing board and set them up in the living room, pulling out a plug from a socket to accommodate the iron. Leaving the appliance to heat up, he proceeded to the kitchen for a drink, no time for breakfast. Pouring himself a glass of milk he gulped it back, staring woefully down at his bright red toe. He limped to the sink and ran the glass under the faucet, cursing again as the handle stuck momentarily before turning off.
"Gotta get that fixed," he sighed.
Replacing the glass back in the cupboard, he limped, deep in thought, back to the living room, totally forgetting about the ironing board as he entered the room. He got tangled up in the trailing cord, falling forward and bringing the lot crashing down around him.
On his way to the floor, JD clipped the coffee table, banging the bridge of his nose and just under his left eye, lying there for a moment, dazed. Recovering slightly, he tried to get up, but a sharp pain in his left wrist caused him to fall back to the ground and a wave of nausea hit him. After a minute he tried again, and was successful in getting to his knees.
He sniffed the air. Could he smell something burning?
Dismissing it momentarily, he pulled himself up via the sofa, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
There was that burning smell again.
Looking around, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to locate the source of the smell, suddenly catching sight of the iron, face down on the arm of the sofa, smoke rising from around it.
JD grabbed the appliance and, returning the ironing board to an upright position, placed it carefully down, unplugging it as he surveyed the damage. The arm of the sofa was smoking, as was the plate of the iron which looked decidedly "furry". Still feeling a little off balance, he limped to the kitchen to dampen a cloth to minimize the damage to the sofa, but banged his right elbow hard on the doorjamb on the way in. A pain like a bolt of lightening streaked through his arm and he half-laughed, half-cried with pain while shaking his arm, desperately trying to stop the tingling sensation that caused him temporarily to lose normal feeling. After a minute, he resumed his journey to the sink.
The faucet turned with a squeak as he placed a cloth underneath it. The cloth suitably soaked, JD attempted to shut it off but it stuck firmly in the on position.
"Nooo!" he screamed, "I don't have time for this!"
He struck out in anger and instantly regretted his actions as the handle flew off, sending water gushing in all directions. JD made futile attempts to halt the torrent while spluttering like a drowning man, eventually giving up and dropping to the floor to crawl into the cupboard that housed the sink, hoping to locate the water cut-off.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the water finally slowed to a stop and the drenched agent hauled himself up and surveyed the damage. There didn't appear to be a single part of the kitchen that wasn't dripping with water and the floor seemed at least an inch underwater. Turning away from the sink, another sharp pain shot through him from his toe. Grimacing and momentarily distracted, he put his good foot forward, but it slid from under him, causing him to slide backward and catch the back of his head on the edge of the sink.
The last thing he remembered was the splash as his body hit the ground.
+ + + + + + +
Buck was staring at the phone in his hand like it had insulted him. Vin looked across.
"What's up, pard?"
Buck sighed, "I can't get an answer from the apartment. JD should have been here an hour ago yet he's not answering his cell or the home phone."
Ezra chimed in, "The young man in question is probably deep in slumber as we speak."
Buck shook his head, "He'd still hear one of the phones."
He dialed again, this time he looked more concerned.
"And another thing, why hasn't the answering machine kicked in? That should happen after six rings, but it just keeps ringing."
At this point all the men were listening in earnest. JD was usually very reliable, this wasn't like him.
Chris had been leaning against the doorjamb of his office, listening to Buck's ramblings. He took his jacket from the coat stand, clearing his throat slightly to get their attention. The five men looked up at him.
"So, we going or what?"
+ + + + + + +
As Team Seven pulled up outside Buck and JD's apartment in two vehicles, their concern grew on seeing JD's bike still in its parking spot.
They got out of the elevator and tentatively approached the apartment. Buck unlocked the door and carefully pushed it open, and instantly noticing the burnt odor in the air, they all quietly removed their guns from their holsters. Buck pointed to the unplugged cordless phone/answering machine and they started to spread out, their concern growing as they surveyed the wrecked apartment. Buck's heart was thumping at the condition of their home, this was not good and he, as well as the other five men, feared the worse.
A soft moan from the kitchen put them on high alert and they took up positions, assuming nothing. As they moved in further, Buck could see JD sprawled out on his back on the kitchen floor, still dressed in his pyjama bottoms, his head slightly to one side. He instinctively started toward the prone body, but Chris held him back, gesturing for him to wait and be quiet. As one in thought, the men rushed into the other rooms on the first floor and Nathan and Ezra jogged upstairs to check out Buck's room. They eventually regrouped, giving the all clear and holstering their guns as Buck and Nathan went to JD.
Buck cupped JD's face in his large hands.
"Kid, you ok? Can you hear me?"
JD tried desperately to focus on the voice but just didn't have the energy. The team had already noticed how battered JD's face was and waited to hear Nathan's diagnosis.
"Looks like his toe may be broken, his wrist's swollen and he has a bump on the back of his head. I think we should take him to the hospital ourselves."
They wrapped the soaked boy in a blanket to raise his body temperature after lying for who knew how long in the water, and Buck and Josiah carried him carefully to the car, while Chris and Vin secured the apartment and they all made their way to the hospital.
+ + + + + + +
Passing staff and visitors turned in interest and amusement at the guffaws of laughter coming from room 322.
JD sat in the bed, his arms crossed and mock anger etched on his bruised face, but secretly he was more than a little embarrassed. Buck was wiping his eyes.
"And to think we thought you'd been attacked! Oh this is priceless!"
"Well it sure as hell didn't feel funny!" JD huffed, causing the men to laugh again, even louder.
Chris's eyes twinkled at the young agent. "JD, if you'd wanted the day off, ya only had to ask."
JD faked a smile and pushed his damp hair back from his face with
his left hand, wincing as he remembered his bandaged, sprained wrist.
Recovering, he looked at Buck.
"I'm real sorry about the mess in the apartment. I'll pay for any damages."
Buck chuckled, patting JD on the leg.
"Don't sweat it kid, we needed some new furniture anyway."
The young agent flashed a brilliant smile back at Buck, then at his friends, chuckling softly and shaking his head. He hunkered down in the bed and closed his eyes.
"Why couldn't I have just had a bad hair day?"