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Peter is a surgical resident, and he did not come to that position easily. He has to fight harder than most for that position, and it was certainly more of a struggle than John Carter will ever know in his life.
So the rules, as they exist, are ones that can be bent by others. But the rules for Peter must be strictly adhered to, because the system does not bend for him.
There are, of course, rules against what residents are allowed to do with med students. It's never particularly been a problem for Peter before; most of the med students that he's stuck with are not worth his time. They are always stupid, lazy, and careless - well, almost always.
But John Carter is not especially any of those things.
Which is why Peter is tempted to break those rules for the first time, despite the stakes. He's tempted to pull Carter into the nearest supply closet and hold that always nervous, always fidgeting body still with the weight of his own. He's tempted to allow his hands to tangle in Carter's hair and to feel Carter's hesitant hands on his waist. He knows Carter's kisses would be shy at first, that the tips of his ears would blush red as he nuzzled his face in Peter's neck.
"Look at me," he would have to say, and Carter would blush, but he would do it, because he always sought Peter's approval, and then Peter could confidently claim his student's mouth until Carter was gasping for air.
He's tempted.
But … no. He has restraint.
~*~
Peter is still a surgical resident, and Carter is still a student... technically.
But there is a difference between a third year and a fourth year doing a sub-I - not enough to matter to the rules, but enough that Peter's temptations change. He no longer imagines the shy, uncertain kisses of an unknowing third year. From the moment Carter's tanned, lean form stumbled into the department … late… Carter's confidence has grown. He's growing into something that might actually resemble a decent surgeon someday, and every now and then, those dark eyes flash with the desire to argue back.
It tempts him far more than the scrawny third year ever did, because Peter knows how needy those kisses would be; he knows Carter would cling and nibble and groan and beg and Peter would have to hold his hands in place because otherwise Carter's hands would never stop touching everything everywhere all at once.
This Carter would be all enthusiasm all the time.
And Peter is tempted again. He imagines Carter wriggling and bucking beneath him; he imagines the breathy way Carter would look up at him and swear loyalty - "I'm yours, Dr. Benton. Only yours."
But a sub-internship is just a fancy way to say a medical student, and Peter isn't out here fucking his med students, like the assholes in the Emergency Department. So he's tempted... but no.
~*~
Interns are not much better than med students, and Peter is a surgical resident, but he's a senior surgical resident now. More is expected of him, and his reputation cannot handle the earth shattering crack that John Carter could present.
Because this John Carter might be a glorified med student with greater legal responsibilities - who is turning into a fine surgeon who will no doubt be part of a legacy Peter is proud to be part of - but he talks back freely. This John Carter still seeks Peter's approval, but he also wants to be an equal. This Carter still tempts Peter into taking him into a supply room, and Peter imagines half buttoned clothes and a Carter pulling at Peter's clothes with determined - equal - arousal.
"This is forbidden," the Carter of Peter's imagination tells him. "You could get in so much trouble."
But Peter would ask him if he wants Peter to stop, and Carter's breath would hitch on the "No, please don't stop. I've wanted to feel you for years."
Because of course he has; Peter isn't blind.
But intern year doesn't go as planned.
Dennis Gant dies, and Carter, who has always worn his heart on his sleeve, is suffering. Peter can feel it, and Peter is suffering, too. Words have never been his strong suit, and he doesn't know how to make Carter feel better. He doesn't know how to make himself feel better.
He sees Carter's anger and fury and sorrow. Carter lets himself get closer, more into Peter's space than he has ever done before, and Peter thinks about telling him how stupid that is. He thinks mean thoughts these days - which isn't fair, because Gant's death should have made him kinder.
"You switched to Hicks' team, so why are you still here?" he demands. "Is it because your buddy Keaton left, and you're looking for a replacement surgical attending fuck buddy, or maybe just a pity fuck? Either way, I'm not interested, Carter."
It's mean. It's too mean. Carter stumbles backwards, as though he'd been slapped, and Peter worries hysterically that a second intern will fall to his death - this one off of the roof.
But although Carter's eyes are wet, he turns and leaves.
Later, when Carter removes his appendix, it is Carter at his bedside, who hears the whispers of apologies he would never say sober. It is Carter who hears of the gentleness he wants to show and doesn't know how. It is Carter who hears Peter murmur about gentle kisses on his shoulder, collarbones, and trailing down to his belly. It is Carter who hears Peter moan "you make me want to lose all of my damn control all the time, but I can't." It is Carter who hears Peter mourn the goodbye kisses they did not have.
And later, it is Carter who asks, "But if those are all things you want, then why - "
"You're still an intern, Carter."
And it is Carter who doesn't understand, but Peter can't change that.
~*~
It is Carter who leaves and chooses emergency medicine, thereby throwing away all of the training Peter gave him. Admittedly, Peter does not behave …. or adjust … well.
But Peter is furious and disappointed and …
"You need to quit treating it like a breakup," Mark tells him, but what does he know?
Carter still follows him around, looking for his approval, even though Carter left him and his field. It's stupid, because Peter has a whole baby to take care of now and Elizabeth is in the picture, and that takes up all his time. He doesn't have time to worry about a man who throws away everything Peter gave him.
Except... sometimes it is dark, and Peter is alone, and his mind wanders. His mind wanders to his wayward intern, and Peter spreads his legs, thinking what it would be like to have Carter's mouth pepper the inside of his inner thigh with sloppy, overly enthusiastic kisses while Carter gazed up at him, his hands holding Peter's thighs apart while he did his best to make Peter lose control. Peter strokes himself, while he thinks about threading his fingers through Carter's hair, knowing Carter would be willing to do whatever it took get back in his favor.
That's why it's wrong.
"Please, Peter," Carter would beg. "I want to taste you."
"All that time you're spending with Mark Greene? Are you sure? Maybe you belong to him now," Peter would say.
And in his mind, Carter whines, low and needy and desperate, and Peter's strokes increase in fervor. "No, Dr. Benton. I'm still all yours. Come on me, mark me, make me filthy. Let everyone know who I belong to."
Peter wants to, and Carter would - far too easily.
And that's why it's wrong.
~*~
Second year resident Carter certainly has a bit of the terrible twos, and while it is giving everyone else a bit of a headache, it is mostly making Peter think that he was even more cut out for surgery than everyone else thought. Everyone down in the ER is crying when he raises his voice, but Peter thinks it's delightful to see him come into his own.
This Carter is less whines and cries and more … neck grabs and low grunts. This Carter's mouth would lack hesitation entirely and be inpatient, and for a very brief period of time, Peter considers how that beard would feel rough and grazing against his skin. Peter is sure those hips will roll and buck desperately against Peter, and Peter thinks... aches… to place his hands on Carter's hips and hold him still.
"If you're going to act like a brat, I'll treat you like one," Peter imagines he would say.
And Carter would throw his impertinent head back and retort, "Promise?"
But Peter doesn't make a move, because things had ended with Elizabeth for a reason, and while Elizabeth had understood and moved on... Carter isn't Elizabeth. Carter is more sensitive - even this older, wiser, bitchier version. Carter has always wanted him to be a better man than he is, and he won't be able to handle the fact that Peter is never going to be that man.
~*~
"Are you fucking him?"
It's not a question that Peter expects from Cleo. It's not one that anyone else has asked.
"No, of course not," he says. "Christ. He just got back from rehab."
The sound she makes tells him that's the wrong answer. He doesn't know why. What does she want him to say. Yes?
"The right answer, Peter," she says "Is that you never wanted to fuck him in the first place."
Well, that presents a problem.
"If that's not the answer, then why are you even here?" Cleo presses.
~*~
Peter invites Carter over to his place at the beginning of the week, and that gives him a whole week to try to figure out what he is going to say. But when Carter actually shows up, all he manages to say is, "Do you remember when you did my appendectomy?"
Carter looks a little startled and confused. "I do," he says. "Is … that why you invited me over here? To talk about your old surgery? I still have your appendix, you know. Did you want it back?"
"No, Carter, I don't want my appendix back," Peter sighs. "Do you remember what I said you when I was coming out of surgery?"
For a minute Carter is still, which he never is, and then he gives the kind of smile that Peter hasn't seen on his face since before Lucy Knight was killed. "Yeah," he says, barely above a whisper. "I do. I'm … not an intern anymore."
"No," Peter agrees. "You aren't."
"Is that why you have been asking me about my back all week? Because just for the record? It's fine. And it can take … you know... whatever."
"Oh, it can, huh?"
Carter blushes, because he's always been quick to do so, but he nods. "My back is fine," he insists.
Peter makes sure they make it to the bedroom, because that back injury doesn't need further complications. Once there, Carter's soft, innocent kisses turn bolder, and years of want bubble up until desperate hands are fumbling, tugging, then clutching at one another. Clothes are discarded in multiple haphazard heaps over the room, and Carter murmurs a string of pure filth in Peter's ear as he grinds up against Peter's leg.
All of the shades of grey and complexities are gone. There's no doubt about who wants what anymore. Peter takes his time prepping Carter, delivering lazy, slow kisses to Carter's face, jaw, and finally, bringing Carter's hand to his face to deliver a series of kisses to his palm while his other hand continues applying plenty of lube.
Carter bucks onto Peter's fingers and gasps, like he's experiencing human touch for the very first time when Peter kisses his palm. He's so pretty and messy and begging and needy, and Peter decides that he deserves saint status for giving this up for so long.
"Please," Carter gasps. "Please … I want to …"
"What do you want, Carter? Tell me."
"I want all of you inside me," Carter pleads. "I want you to fuck me. Please."
"How long?" Peter demands. "How long have you wanted it?"
"What?"
"How long have you wanted me to fuck you, Carter? You're making such sweet sounds for me now; how long have you thought about it?"
Carter whines, and brings the hand that Peter isn't holding up to over his eyes. "I thought about since day one," he mutters.
The confession is enough, and it's absolution for all that Peter has coveted over the years. He pulls his fingers out, and the whimper that Carter gives tells him that this round won't last long for either of them -
(but there will be more, later, and later still, and later even after that)
- and it doesn't matter, because once they are both satiated, those open mouth, sloppy, wet kisses have turned to lazy kisses as Carter lays on his side, his finger trailing Peter's jaw.
"I told you my back was okay," Carter says.
"Day one, huh?" Peter retorts.
"Okay, but how long has it been for you?" Carter asks. "Obviously you were thinking about it before the appendectomy."
"That's a story for another time," Peter answers.
Carter scowls at him. "Well, that's not very fair. I think - "
Peter cuts him off with a kiss.
~*~