Rating: R...Michael's having some definitely non-innocent thoughts.

Summary: The making of a surgeon...and a food fight.

Spoilers: Nah.
 

January 19, 2001

It's Saturday, 7 a.m.

Oh fuck.

Time to get up and resuscitate the 'Stang.

Much as I want to get the 'Stang up and running, is the amount I don't feel like doing anything but sleeping.

God. I used to have time. Lots of it. I'd work here and there, and just hang out.

That certainly has changed.

Now it's like, I get up real early, go to class, go to work, come back, see Kelly a little bit, work on TMB, do my homework, and maybe, just maybe, I get some sleep. Oh, and occasionally, I get to eat. I'm down to 126, a record low for moi.

This is my life?

Guess so.

Sounds like I'm complaining. I'm really not. Okay, about the homework, and putting in so many tutoring hours, maybe. I like tutoring, it's not that. But it takes up this huge chunk of my life, and sometimes, when I'm with somebody who is really clueless, my mind wanders off and I think about all the things I have to do and all the things I want to do.

Homework? Hey, nobody likes homework. Don't grudge me for that one. Least I get it done. And so far, I've kept my amazing 4.0.

Course, we are only two weeks into the semester.

You know what it is? It used to be, yeah, I'd have people I'd hang with, but it'd just be hanging. Nothing big or involved. They'd come and go.

Now I got people who are attached to me, who expect things of me. And I try hard not to let them down.

Oh shit...when did I get responsible?
 

Finding all my tools is a real chore. I don't keep them together like I should, so this is a real pain. And I can't yell at Dad, he's got his own tools, which he says if I ever touch he will kill me, and he doesn't touch mine.

But maybe when Kelly gets here, it won't be so bad. I asked her to come keep me company. She says she could study while I work on the 'Stang, so she said she would. Plus, she's got a car, so if we need parts, we can make a run for them. I know that sounds like I'm using my girlfriend to fix my car, but it's really not that way.

My girlfriend. I said that to her last night, and she seemed like, yeah, I am.

And it was a fun night. We made out for a while, on her bed, just some on top of the clothes stuff, but God, I'd have liked to seen what was under those clothes.

It was definitely cold shower time when I got home.

Only weird thing is, it's like, if I roll on top of her, she gets kind of freaked out. It's like she's got to be on top. If she's there, she's fine and she really likes it and all, but the minute I'm on her, she goes sort of weird on me.

Whatever. At least we got in some serious cuddling.

But that girl, she has got to know what she does to me.

I keep thinking about what the first time will be like when we finally do the deed. I want it to be really good for her. I know it will be for me.

Where's it going to happen? I'm not sure. Something about doing it in her room, which was my old room-nah. And my room, well, Dad tends to be there when I'm there, so it's not like he's gonna be happy about us getting it on while he's in the other room. I think the idea that his little guy could have sex freaks him.

Sorry, Dad. Something funny happened while you were out.

I got older.

Maybe now I can grow up.
 

Christ, it's freezing out here! And you can't wear mittens when you work on cars.

My kingdom for a heated garage.

So I think about Kelly, and her perfect little body...I ran my hands over the tops of her breasts last night. Outside her shirt, yeah, but I could feel her getting hard when I did it.

She's complaining she feels fat. She says there's so much good food at Ally's and all she's been doing is eating it.

Oh God. She is nowhere near fat. She's put on a few pounds, and her clothes look a bit tight.

She looks positively delicious. She's starting to get some curves, and pretty soon, I'm not going to be able to contain myself.

I did notice her tits looked bigger. Not a development I can object to.

She looks absolutely juicy. Her ass isn't as little right now...which is actually an improvement.

Like I said, she's putting on some curves.

Oh God. I AM Melvin Frohike's son.

C'mon, boy. Fix the damn car already.
 

I've had the equivalent of a long wet dream by the time Kelly shows up, and I'm thinking, oh hell. Now I'll never be able to concentrate.

But she opens her o-chem book and makes no invitation for me to do anything but work.

"It's freezing out here," she says.

Oh honey. I've been burning up all morning. You have no idea.

I've come to a point where I need a second pair of hands.

"Kel, need your help."

"I don't know anything about cars."

"You don't need to. Just do what I say and it'll help me out here."

She's actually not too bad.

"Hey, Kel? You wanna be a surgeon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well...guess what? You're gonna practice on the car first."

She looks at me skeptically. "You're kidding. Michael, I'll just screw it all up-"

"Uh-uh. Before you can go digging around in people's guts, let's see how you do on the Mustang."

"I don't know anything about fixing cars."

"You don't know anything about surgery, either, but someday you will. So
start here."

She looks real baffled. I tell her I'll walk her though it, don't sweat it.

I don't think she believes me. But I know she can do it.

And besides, my fingers are gonna freeze off if I don't stuff them in my pockets soon...and there are other reasons for putting my hands in my pockets as well.

Ones that she's got something to do with.
 

ALLY:

I feel better about the material I'm working on right now, particularly in o-chem, which at least has come back to me in some measure. I'm going to put the books away as soon as Langly wakes from the dead.

He's been pretty much out since we came back yesterday. I'm glad they gave him some painkillers; I'm not sure how much whining I could take right now. And he'd whine. A Langly in pain is a whiny Langly, just as a hungry or tired one is a crabby one.

He's in the doorway of the kitchen, hair mussed and eyes puffy behind the glasses. I think he slept really hard on the pills; he looks a little hung over.

"Hey. It's alive." I smile at him, and stand up to give him a hug. I lean my head against his chest and he jumps a little.

"Careful. Sort of tender there."

"Sorry. You okay?"

"Uh-huh. Do we know yet?"

"If you matched? No. Not yet."

"Jesus fuck, what is taking so long?"

"36 hours, she said she'd call us on Saturday. Well, babe, it's Saturday, and it's only 11, so don't get all freaked out yet. Have some coffee and keep me company."

"I'm hungry," he whines. "I didn't get any dinner."

"I called you, but you were off in dreamland. I'll make you something. What'd you like?"

Decision making time. He puzzles this seemingly major decision for several minutes.

Deciding to help Joan was a piece of cake...deciding what to have for breakfast?

Now that's a tough one.

Finally, he decides that waffles would work, and do we have any melon or berries, and what kind of syrup is there, and can I make one batch with chocolate chips but not the rest of them?

Yes on the melon, no on the berries, plain maple syrup, and yes on the batch with chocolate chips. I'm almost giggling; he sounds like a child with a finicky appetite.

And the easiest thing to do is feed him what he likes.

Miranda apparently clues into the smell and appears a few minutes after I start baking the first batch of waffles.

"Hmm...what's the occasion?" I don't cook breakfast all that often. Dinner is more my meal.

"Your mom didn't feed me last night, so she's making me something to eat."

"I didn't feed him?! Try he slept through dinner!"

"Yeah, well, I'm starving!"

"Two more minutes and you won't pass out from hunger."

"Some for me, please," Miranda requests. "With chocolate chips."

Since when did I develop into a short-order cook?

She places a quick hand on Langly's shoulder. "Good morning, O Wicked Stepfather."

He eyes her. "You're in a good mood. Have a date last night?"

"Yeah, I did, and it was really good. You oughta pass out more often when I have a date. Makes the evening much nicer."

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Ally, how much longer?"

"Quit whining, Langly, they're almost ready!" Jesus, he can be like a little kid sometimes.

"Where're mine?" demands Miranda.

"Hey, these are mine!" Langly informs her greedily as I place the first batch in front of him.

"Is that honeydew? Gimme some." Miranda grabs a slice from him.

"Girl, you're eating all my breakfast!"

"Not even!"

"Is there more melon, Mom?"

"Sorry. He got the tail end. I need to hit the Safeway."

"Well, what DO we have? Or did he eat it all?"

"There're grapes."

"Okay, I can do grapes." She grabs the bunch from the crisper. "All right, flame seedless. Cool." She pops a few off and nibbles on them.

"So how's Auntie Joan?" she asks Langly.

"Not so hot."

"You know yet?"

"NO!"

"Jesus, Langly, calm down. You don't have to be so tetchy about it!" She flings a grape at him.

He stops eating for a moment. Just eyes her. Eyes the bunch of grapes on her plate.

Picks one up. Flings it at her.

Oh fuck. Here we go.

Grapes begin flying. A few of them pelt me in the back.

No way are they going to get away with this.

I reach into the freezer, grab an ice cube, motion for Miranda to shut up.

And slip it down Langly's back.

Which rewards me with a howl. He gets up, reaches into the freezer, and grabs some ice cubes for himself. I'm running down the hall, trying not to get caught. I almost make it to the bedroom, but he's bigger and faster and has longer legs than me, so I get some cubes down the front of my shirt.

Miranda's emerged, animal crackers in hand, and starts flinging them at Langly. He runs back to the kitchen and gets some more ice, which he manages to get down her back.

The house is a disaster by the time we're done pelting each other.

And we're laughing our asses off.

The phone rings, and Miranda makes a dash for it. Youth has it over size in this case.

"Hey, Langly! For you!" She shouts.

The laughter stops. We're about to find out.
 

His face doesn't give much away while he's on the phone, but he smiles when he clicks off.

"I matched."

I am flooded with relief.

"So now what?"

"Guess I get a hip puncture to match."

"That should put you in a good mood," Miranda comments.

"Should. I intend to negotiate heavily for Demerol."

"Please. Extra strength. Preferably lasting till I get out of high school," she quips.

"So when is this going to take place?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday."

"Yeah, well, apparently the good doc doesn't want to wait."

"So what's the plan here?"

"Well, you better feed me real good today...I have to stop eating at 8 p.m."

"Now there's a hardship."

"Tell me about it. NC State versus Virginia tonight, and I can't even have a beer!"

"I feel your pain," Miranda says in mock sympathy. "So who're you cheering for?"

"Tough one. NC State plays better ball...but Virginia, well, that's where I went...decisions, decisions."

"And what time do we have to wake up for this?"

He winces. "Uh...I got to be there at 6."

"You have to be there at 6? Not wake up at 6, but be there?"

"Uh, yeah."

"That's a sixth amendment violation on Sunday."

"I'd go along with that."

"How long are you stuck there for?"

"Says if I behave myself and don't do anything weird, around 5 in the afternoon. You gonna stay with me?"

"You have to ask?"

"Well...I was hoping you would."

"Get real, babe. You know I'll be there."

"Cool. Hey Ally?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I'm still hungry, y'know."

"C'mon, Hairboy. Let's get your face stuffed."
 

MICHAEL:

We may never get this car together again.

I figured with Kelly, it'd be a snap...not so.

She's never fixed a car before, though. I keep telling myself that.

And it was my idea to teach her in the first place.

But she tries real hard. And after doing a few pretty disastrous things in the beginning, she's starting to get the hang of it.

It takes us till it gets pretty dark, but we finally have it operational.

And by the end of the day, I can honestly tell her that she did a good job.

And I tell her I'm taking her to dinner. She says she wants Italian again. I can live with that.

She really deserves it. She did try real hard. And she got better. Hey, the damn thing is running. And she doesn't give up. Even when she was really fucking up, she hung in there.

I like that in a woman.

"Well, Michael, you're a good teacher," she says.

This cracks me up. Me, the most impatient person on the planet, a good teacher?

Not a fucking chance.

"No, really. You explain things really well. And you don't lose your temper."

Oh baby, I came so close a few times.

"I think you ought to consider it as an occupational choice."

She has GOT to be kidding.

I'd be a disaster.

I know how I come off tutoring sometimes. By the end of the day, I'm feeling somewhat homicidal.

I tell her this, and she says, "Yeah, but when you have to do it the next day, are you still mad?"

"Nah. I mean, it's cool. Sometimes people are real good, and they thank you and stuff, and you can get 'em moving the right way."

"Hey, you got me through my first semester of calc, which was starting off as a major disaster. And I finished by acing my exam, and even though you have to help me sometimes this quarter, I don't need it as much, 'cause you did a really good job of making sense of it. And I've seen you work with other people. Maybe they're driving you crazy, but you don't show it. You're really patient when you're teaching."

Fooled her but good! Oh God.

"Compared to the other tutors, you're really good...and I'm not just saying it 'cause you're my boyfriend."

I'm like, what did she say?

First time she called me that.

I am like flying.

I'm standing behind her, and I wrap myself around her, very gently. She seems a bit nervous, but she doesn't jump.

And I kiss her cheek, tuck some of her hair out of her face.

She's got the softest hair I ever felt. It's like a baby's hair.

She must've been a real pretty one.

"I bet you were a cute little kid," I tell her.

"I just looked like a kid. My hair was lighter. How about you?"

"I showed you the pics in my dad's room, you know what I looked like."

"You were totally adorable."

"I was not."

"You were, too. You were the cutest baby."

"According to my dad, I was the sickest baby."

"Well...for a while there, I thought you were the sickest adult I'd ever seen." She laughs.

She thinks I'm an adult. Two revelations in less than ten minutes.

God, I hope I can live up to her expectations.

"And if you don't get inside pretty soon, you'll probably be sick again."

"Nah. I'm cool here."

"No, you're freezing, and so am I. Are you hungry yet?"

"I'm starved."

"So what are we waiting for? Till we keel over from lack of food?" She's laughing.

I love hearing her laugh.

"Besides, shouldn't we try out our handiwork?" She grins at me.

"Tell you what," I smile at her. "Let's go eat and I'll tell you about all the horrible things I used to do, and then you can decide if you still think I'm cool or not."

She shakes her head. "Michael, I don't care what you used to do...I care what you are now."

"Oh? And what's that?" Somebody tell me, please.

"You're the nicest man I ever met. And I love you."

She said what?!

She said it first?!

She loves me?!

Whew!

END OF PART 54