Title: Watching

Author: Paige

Author's webpage: N/A

Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm making no profit from this story

Pairing: Bruce/John

Rating: R for sexual situations

Spoilers: None, unless I missed something

Summary: This is in response to one of Peja's opening line challenges, "He watches me...."

Archive: Yes to WWOMB, all others please ask first!

Author's notes: All flames will be ignored. But since this is my first attempt at a DZ fic, all constructive criticism is welcomed. I'd like to hear if I got the characters right. Thanks to Peja for the challenge! It actually stirred something enough to finally get me writing DZ.

Watching

by Paige

He watches me. Constantly. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad. The last time I was the focus of so much undivided attention was when I was engaged to Sarah. Before the accident. Before my life changed irrevocably.

But on the other hand it's good to have someone else care that much. The fact that he's a guy doesn't matter. It might have, in that other life. This time around, I think I want to do things differently. And being with him, intimately, would be different from anything I've ever experienced, I'm sure.

Sometimes I feel the heat of his gaze on me, and it makes me shiver. I wonder what it would feel like if he was watching me strip for him. Would he be repulsed by my scars? By the burned skin? As my physical therapist and friend, it's never mattered. But as a lover? I wonder . . . could he handle it? And more importantly, could I?

He calls my name, in that warmly concerned tone he uses when he knows I've had a vision. I don't disillusion him. After all, I have seen something. Whether it becomes reality or stays a fantasy is anyone's guess.

~@~@~@~@~@~

I watch him. All the time. And I can't seem to stop it. He's so damned . . . vulnerable sometimes. And yet at other times I think he has to be the strongest dude I know. Those visions. . . God, it tears me up watching him live through one.

I've watched him closely from the beginning. No one expected that a man who'd been in a coma for six years could recover as well as John Smith. He could've resumed most of his old life. Most, but not all. His days of playing hockey are gone. But that's the least of it. The worst loss had to be his family. Mother, fiancee, and son.

I watch him, watching Sarah. Even now, I can't help wondering how she could have just given up on him, if she'd really loved him. Sure, I know she was pregnant. But we're not in the stone ages anymore. Johnny's mom would've helped Sarah, and it might have given Mrs. Smith something to live for, helping with her son's baby. Now, we'll never know. And though I want to be more than just John's friend, I'd gladly settle for that if he could just have his family. Intact, the way it should be.

I watch him when he's with J.J. John would be a great dad, if he ever got another chance. The boy looks so much like his birth father it's going to be hard to hide the truth from him as he grows up. I hope Walt and Sarah do the right thing.

I've watched him at his mother's grave. If I could only take some of his sorrow, lift away some of the burden. But it's not mine to do. At least if he's grieving his losses I know he can still feel his own emotions, and not just those of others.

I especially watch him during our PT sessions. He pushes hard, straining to get his abused body back into some sort of shape. And as I watch I can't help wondering if the flushed expression on his face would mirror his look as he climaxes.

I know I shouldn't think like that, but it's hard not to. I have these fantasies, y'see. His fair skin and blonde hair against my own dark complexion. Makes me hard sometimes to just think about him and me like that. I dream about it sometimes.

But that's all they'll ever be. Dreams and fantasies. Because if I ever touch him when I have these thoughts, that could be the end of everything between us. Losing him as a friend is not worth the risk.

And so I watch him. . .