As John reached for his fourth bottle of beer, his eyes fell on the tattoo on his wrist - the zero he had put there to remind himself of how far he'd fallen years before. Of where he didn't ever intend to be again. And here he was, sitting in some dark bar, getting drunk and heading right back there to being nothing.

Shaking his head, John got up from the stool and paid for his beers. He struggled a bit with getting his coat back on, but he soon got things under control and found himself out on the sidewalk. He looked for his Jeep, and then remembered that he had taken the El into the city that morning. He'd spent all day in some stupid sexual harassment seminar-type class, learning all about the do's and don'ts of sexual harassment and seething inwardly over the fact that it was stuff he already knew, stuff he didn't do and stuff he was being forced to listen to because Susan and Abby couldn't contain their own curiosities. It didn't really make matters easier to take by having Luka and Gallant there, either. Two more innocent victims of insatiable curiosity. He's been in a bad mood nearly all day, and the others had reacted to that, spending just as much time baiting him as they did deriding him for his mood. Except Luka.

The damn man could do no wrong, John angrily thought. He was the perfect son, perfect husband, perfect father, and perfect lover. He wasn't a perfect sword fighter, John thought with a grin. So, there was at least one thing that Luka Kovac wasn't perfect at doing.

As John walked toward the El station, he found his thoughts staying on Luka and his perfections. Like those eyes. They were definitely perfect eyes, John thought. While he'd never admit it to anyone, John liked seeing the way Luka's emotions or clothing could change the color of his eyes. Sometimes going toward brown, and sometimes so green that they took John's breath away. No, definitely nothing he could admit to anyone. Or how he thought Luka's long fingers were the most exquisite things he'd ever seen. Or how, when Luka wasn't dousing his hair with various gels and other products, it looked like silk - so smooth and looking extremely touchable.

No, he definitely couldn't admit that to anyone. He was supposed to be pining away for Abby, or so Susan - and Abby, seemed to think. John wasn't supposed to admit to anyone that the main reason he and Susan never did anything more than necking was because whenever they kissed, he found himself wishing that he was looking into Luka's changeable eyes, or smelling the man's cologne. God, he'd smelled it earlier, when they'd been fighting. When he'd charged Luka and knocked him to the ground after Luka had cut his face. John could still remember how Luka's body had felt under his for that brief time. And how his desire to hit Luka had been turning into a desire to kiss Luka. Luckily, Gallant had pulled him away before he could act on that. It would certainly have added a new element to the class, though, if he had kissed him.

Through the snow, John could see a flashing light, and as he drew closer he could see that it was advertising a tattoo parlor. The same place, he noted, where he'd gotten his zero. A zero that no one around him had seemed to notice. Much as how those around him hadn't noticed his downfall until it was nearly too late. Thinking it was maybe about time to take a risk and get a more obvious tattoo, John stepped into the business. The tattoo artist looked up from a magazine he was reading.

"Can I help you?" he asked, but he didn't put the magazine aside.

"I'm in the mood for a tattoo," John replied as his feet took him over to the display of what was offered. "I'm not sure what I want, though."

"Well, I do all that you see there, and I can do names, too," the artist replied as he put the magazine down and came over to stand beside John in front of the display. "Any idea where you want it put at? Bicep? Chest?"

Names. The man could tattoo a name? Of course, John chided himself, wasn't 'Mom' the typical stereotype of a tattoo? He dismissed the idea, wondering just what name he'd put. Mom didn't really work, even without a heart around it. And putting 'Gamma' anywhere on his body just made him shudder. Maybe he wasn't as ready for this as he thought?

"I'm not sure I want a tattoo that can be seen," he said, his voice low. ""Maybe I'm not ready for this again." But if he did choose a name, then Luka would be a good one, John reasoned. It was a strong name. A perfect name, especially for the man in question. Wasn't Luke a physician? He nearly giggled as he wondered if Luka's parents had thought about that when they'd named him - give him a physician's name and he'd grow up to be a physician. Put Luka's name near his heart and Luka would...John shook his head as reason tried to intervene. Luka would never look twice at him. Besides, they were both straight. Weren't they?

But a straight man wouldn't have been looking at Luka's eyes, would he? Or his fingers - fingers that would feel really nice stroking...No! John definitely didn't want to let his mind go in that direction.

"Can put it where people can't see it," the artist said, his voice crashing into John's thoughts. "Lots of people do that. They like the idea of a tattoo, but only want certain people to see it, if you get my meaning. I've put tattoos on shoulders, upper thighs, hips, asses, lower backs...just about anywhere you can think of, I've put on. A place like that is real good for if you aren't sure whether or not you'll even like the tattoo. Outta sight, outta mind, right?" The artist smiled at him, nodding.

John looked at the designs, but in his mind, he wasn't seeing unicorns or dragons or thorny roses. He was seeing Luka's name. Luka's name in a place where only he knew about. John slowly smiled and turned to the tattoo artist. "I'd like a name, but it's a rather odd name."

"No problem. Print it out for me and I'll do it. Where d'ya want it?"

John's smile almost faltered then, as he decided on the place. He wasn't exactly sure about having the guy put it there, but what the Hell? He never had to come back to that parlor, right? He told the guy where he wanted it and they decided to go with vegetable dye instead of ink, for medical reasons. Or rather, potential medical reasons. As he shrugged out of his coat and went to hang it up, John felt a bit giddy over what he was doing. Yes, it was stupid, but hey, it would be his secret, he thought. At the rate he was going with his love life, no one would ever see it.

No one would ever know.


"Rough day?" Luka asked Carter as he stopped at his locker. Carter was over at his own locker, pulling off his slacks, which looked - and smelled - as if they'd seen better days.

"You could say that," Carter replied, a look of disgust on his face as he let the slacks fall to the floor. He smoothed his hands down the sides of his boxers, and made a small sound of distaste. "Oh, man, they're wet, too." He reached down for the even wetter slacks.

"What are you doing?" Luka asked as he put on his lab coat.

"I can't run through the hallways to the men's room in my undershorts, now can I?" Carter testily asked. He seemed reluctant to put the pants back on, though, and Luka couldn't blame him for that.

"I can keep an eye on the doors for you," Luka offered. "It shouldn't take you all that long to pull them off and get into scrubs, right?"

At first, he thought that Carter would turn down his offer, but then Carter nodded and reached into his locker, pulling out a pair of scrub bottoms.

Luka draped his stethoscope around his neck, made sure he had his prescription pad and some pens in his pockets, and then he closed his locker door. "How long are you on for?" he asked as he took up position between the two doors, where he could see if someone was trying to open either one.

"I'm on until six," Carter replied, "Stuck with a double shift. What about you?"

"I'm also off at six," Luka replied. He had heard sounds that indicated that Carter was out of the boxers and now pulling on the scrubs and he turned around, slightly surprised to discover that whatever it was he'd thought he'd heard, it hadn't been Carter pulling on pants, but rather Carter pulling off his underwear. Luckily, Carter wasn't looking his way, and Luka started to turn back around just as Carter lifted his right leg so he could step into the pants, and Luka swore he saw something on Carter's upper thigh. It was letters, more specifically, the letters 'L' and 'U'. He turned around, but his attention wasn't on the doors. Instead it was on why Carter would have Lucy's name on his leg.

Back when the stabbing had happened, Luka had heard the stories, courtesy of Chuny, about how she'd interrupted Carter and Lucy in a room, but he hadn't paid much attention to them at the time. And over time, they'd slipped his mind completely. But now, now it looked as if Carter's interest in Lucy had gone beyond heavy petting behind locked doors. Her name hadn't been there when Carter was stabbed, Luka knew that much. They'd stripped him down completely, and there had been no tattoos of any kind on Carter's body. But that looked like a tattoo, or body paint. And neither one made much sense to Luka. This was bad, very bad. And here they'd all thought that Carter had finally recovered from everything that had happened. Had they been blind yet again?

What possible reason could there be for Carter to have her name there? So close to, well, close to his genitals. Her name. It just...well, it just wasn't right. But how was he to approach Carter about it? Luka knew he couldn't turn around and say 'Carter, while you had your pants off, I was looking at you and noticed that you had Lucy's names near your testicles. Feel like talking about it?' No, there was no way that Luka could do that. And yet, the subject had to be brought up. It couldn't be healthy for Carter to be carrying a torch for a dead woman.

"Thanks."

The sound of Carter's voice next to him made Luka jump, and he looked at Carter, feeling guilty and concerned. Carter didn't look as if he was troubled. But then again, he hadn't looked that way back when he was abusing drugs, either. "No problem," Luka replied, but inside he was screaming that there was a big problem, and he needed to get to the bottom of it before Kerry Weaver found out about it. Luka watched as Carter walked to the door and opened it.

"Coming?"

"Yeah," Luka replied. Right now was time for work, and he had until 6 pm to come up with some way to talk with Carter about it. Luka stepped through the door in front of Carter, acutely conscious of how close he'd passed to the other man, and, for some reason, that seemed to bother him more than it ever had before. Usually, Luka liked passing by John Carter. He liked the way the man smelled, liked to imagine that they were the only ones in a room and he could touch Carter and...and thinking about things like that weren't going to solve the problem of Carter putting Lucy's name on his thigh.


John felt a bit uneasy as he sat down on Luka's couch. It had surprised him, when, as their shifts ended, Luka had invited him over to his place for pizza. John's first instinct was to turn him down - politely. And then he thought about all the times he'd imagined being alone with Luka, and about the fact that he had an appointment in two days to see about getting Luka's name removed from his thigh, and he said yes, that he'd like that. Unlike the tattoo, having dinner with Luka wouldn't be painful. At least, that's what John had thought as he accepted the invitation. But, now that he was there at Luka's place and hyper-aware of the looks Luka was giving him, John wasn't so sure that it had been a good idea. There was something going on, and John wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to find out what it was. Luka could still be upset over the sword fight, but they had parted on friendly terms that day, and Luka had never mentioned it since then. Luka could be upset that John and Abby had been best friends while Luka and Abby had dated, but since Luka and Abby were no longer an item, John doubted that, too. Maybe Luka was upset from John challenging him over Abby's drinking? That was possible, and it had just happened the day before. Yes, that had to be it, John thought, settling on that topic. Luka was still upset that John had confronted him over the way he'd enabled her to drink while staying at his place.

John looked up as Luka sat in a nearby chair. "You know, you really didn't need to invite me to dinner just so you could take my head off about yesterday." There was no challenge in John's voice. He didn't want to leave there with them as adversaries once again, but the subject did need to be raised and dealt with.

"What?" Luka asked, looking surprised. "Yesterday? You mean where you ate my head off over Abby's drinking?"

"Chewed your head off," John softly corrected. "And, yes, that's what I mean. You can go on and yell at me without offering pizza."

"It's already ordered. Besides, that's not what I wanted to talk with you about," Luka said. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked over at John. "I wanted to talk with you about Lucy."

Lucy? John knew he had to look as puzzled as he felt at that moment. "What about Lucy?"

Luka cleared his throat. "I heard some rumors before, you know, about you and her. I know that her death was hard on you."

John slowly nodded. "It was difficult, but there wasn't anything between the two of us. There almost was, once. But she was a student and I was her teacher, and I couldn't let anything happen. Besides which, I had a girlfriend at the time." He was still a bit bewildered as to what Luka was getting at, but felt that the man would reveal that soon.

"Today...when you were dressing, I saw it," Luka said, his face turning red. He looked down at the floor. "The... it IS a tattoo, isn't it? I saw it."

John sat back feeling stunned. Luka had seen the tattoo? Oh, God. He could feel the rush of blood to his cheeks and knew he was just as red as Luka at that moment. If only he'd made his appointment with the plastic surgeon earlier, then there wouldn't have been anything for Luka to see. John looked at his hands for a few moments, nervously playing with the signet ring on his pinkie. "Luka, I..." he began. "Look, after that seminar, I was feeling a bit blue and ended up in a bar. I probably drank too much, I don't know. I left and on an impulse stopped by a tattoo parlor. It was a whim. A drunken whim, nothing more. It doesn't mean anything, not really. I've got an appointment with a plastic surgeon soon and it'll be gone, so you won't have to worry about anyone ever seeing it." Oh, God, this was difficult. John knew that Luka probably thought he was some kind of freak, and, aside from the excuse of being drunk, John really had no defense of why he'd put Luka's name there. Except for hoping that putting the name there would somehow lead Luka to him, which was a stupid hope. And there was no way that John would ever admit that hope to Luka. This was bad enough as it was.

"You got drunk, had Lucy's name tattooed on your thigh and think that it's not something to be worried about?" Luka asked, his voice sounding concerned. "Carter...John, it's not healthy. Not at all. Lucy's dead and gone, and having her name removed doesn't change the fact that you had it put there in the first place."

John's head shot up and he looked over at Luka. The man had concern, genuine concern, written all over his face, and John felt badly over causing Luka any kind of worry. Especially when Luka obviously hadn't seen the entire name or else he wouldn't be talking about Lucy. "Luka, just what do you think you saw?"

"It doesn't matter what I saw. You just admitted that you got the tattoo while drunk. I...none of us want to see you in the same shape you were in two years ago."

"Luka, I appreciate your concern, but you didn't see Lucy's name." John said. Maybe if he could reassure Luka of that, then the man would let the subject drop without John having to reveal just whose name was on his thigh.

"I saw the first two letters, Carter!" Luka ran a hand through his hair. "Did you love her? Is that why you can't let her go?"

"No, I didn't love Lucy. She was a nice person and a good student. She would have made a good doctor, but no, I didn't love her. In fact, most of the time, she irritated the Hell out of me. It's not her name."

"Then what is it? I know what I saw, so you can't deny that there's a tattoo there," Luka said, looking intently at him.

"There's more than one word that has those letters in it," John quickly replied. He was glad that he hadn't messed up and said that there was more than one name, instead of one word. Let Luka think it was 'luck' or something.

"Show me."

Luka's firm voice took John by surprise and his mouth fell open for a few moments. "Wha...Luka, this is absurd. I'm telling you that Lucy's name is NOT tattooed on my thigh, or on any other part of my body."

"Show me, or I go to Kerry about this. Prove to me that you're not obsessing over a dead woman."

"Luka, you know that these pants are all I'm...fine." John stood up, suddenly angry over Luka's insistence. "If you want to get your jollies by making me drop my pants and stand half-naked before you, then who am I to argue?" He undid the drawstring at his waist and pushed the green cotton pants over his hips and toward his knees. And then his anger faded away as he realized that now he was going to have to deal with explaining, once again, how Luka's name ended up being there. Still, there was no way that he was going to go down whimpering. "Go on, Luka, get your look."


Luka knew it was wrong to let his eyes linger on Carter's cock, but he couldn't help it. It just looked so, so touchable, peeking out from under the hem of Carter's shirt. For a moment, Luka felt jealous of Lucy and the hold she still had over Carter that would have made me him put her name so close to such a beautiful organ. He let his eyes move lower, first to Carter's testicles and then to his thigh.

And Luka found his mouth going dry as he saw the entire name there. Not Lucy. Not a word that began with 'LU', but a name. His name. LUKA, in black ink, as plain as day and just an inch or so from Carter's cock. Luka estimated that if Carter were hard, and his cock held downward, then it would touch that name.

His name.

Luka's tongue slid out to wet his lips, and he had to look away before he could get a grip on himself. A quick assessment of his own body revealed that he was hard. From the corner of his eye, he saw Carter move to pull up his pants, and the next thing he knew, Luka was on his knees on the floor before Carter, holding his hands away from the waistband.

"Not yet. I...I need to examine this more closely," Luka said. His heart was racing, he was hard over John Carter and now he just wanted to touch it. And he did. Reaching out with his right hand, Luka traced the letters with one finger - and discovering that his touch was making Carter hard. So, there was a reason why Carter had put his name there, and while his being drunk had made it easier for Carter to get the tattoo, it obviously wasn't the reason behind it.

"Why?" Luka looked up at Carter's face. The man's eyes were closed, and his lips were quivering. His face was flushed, and Luka knew by Carter's arousal that it wasn't flushed from embarrassment, but rather from desire. "Why my name, and why here?" He once more let his fingers linger over the letters. "Why?"

Luka felt Carter's body shift weight, from one foot to the other. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"My name? You wanted my name here? You are aware of how close this is to your groin?"

Another shift of weight, and Luka definitely saw Carter's cock twitch. "Yeah. Believe me, I know just how close it is. It was a bit embarrassing having it done, although I guess that the beer buzz helped make that bearable. It's also the reason why I'd put off making an appointment to have it removed."

Luka thought that Carter's voice held a sound of regret about that. At least he hoped that was what he was hearing. He looked at his name, leaned close and kissed it, his head grazing against Carter's sac. Luka didn't want his name removed. "No."

"No?"

Luka looked up as he heard the sound of uncertainty in Carter's voice. The man's eyes were now open, and looking down at him - dark chocolate orbs that seemed to stare into Luka's very core. "No." Luka's hand moved from Carter's thigh to his ball sac, cupping it gently. "I like it right where it is."

"You do?" Carter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I do. I'm going to enjoy looking at it." Luka smiled as his eyes darted from Carter's throbbing cock to his face and back again. "I'm going to enjoy looking at a lot of things."

"You will?" Carter's voice was now husky, and Luka couldn't help but grin.

"I most definitely will. And I think I need to get started by being able to see more of you. You don't happen to have my name tattooed anywhere else on your body, do you?"

Carter shook his head. "Just there. And believe me, getting it put there was, well, embarrassing enough."

Jealousy surged through Luka as he thought about a tattoo artist putting their hands on Carter's body. It was pretty obvious that Carter would have to have dropped his pants to get the tattoo, and most likely his boxers as well. Luka's eyes narrowed. "Never again. I don't want anyone else touching you."

"You don't?" Carter smiled, and Luka found it impossible to remain frowning. "That's good, because I don't, either. Touching me, or touching you."

"You don't?" Luka asked. A smile played around his mouth as he looked up at Carter once more.

"No, I don't. And I know I'm going to enjoy looking at a lot of things, too."

Luka laughed and impulsively leaned forward, placing a kiss along the shaft of Carter's cock. Another laugh bubbled out of him as he felt Carter's cock move under his lips, and then Luka got to his feet. "Strip for me. I want to see all of you, and I want to see all of you right now."


John kept his eyes on Luka's face as he began to unbutton his shirt, starting with the cuffs and then going to the buttons that held it onto his body. Luka's body was still, and John swore he could see the beating of Luka's heart as the blood rushed through the man's arteries. The shirt dropped to the couch, and then John toed off his shoes, stepping away from them before bending over to remove his socks.

And coming face to face with the hardness behind Luka's pants. John swallowed hastily. He had known that Luka wanted him; the man had made that abundantly clear. But to actually see the evidence of Luka's desire, well, John hadn't been prepared for that. As he rose to his full height, John found himself aching to see Luka naked. He'd never touched another man in a romantic or sexual way, and yet John found himself needing to do that with Luka. Needing to touch him, caress him, kiss him.

The scrub pants were quickly stepped out of and kicked to the side and John stood there before Luka, his body just as stilled as Luka's seemed to be. Their eyes met, brown and hazel, and, as if on cue, the two men stepped toward each other, hands reaching out...

And the doorbell rang.

Luka muttered something in Croatian. "The pizza. Damn. Wait here. Don't move." Grabbing his wallet from his back pocket, Luka headed for the door, disappearing from John's sight as he walked behind a small wall that would keep anyone at the door from seeing directly into the apartment.

John sat back down on the couch, grinning as he hugged his arms to his chest. What had started out as a drunken idea to make Luka want him had turned into reality, and while John knew he wasn't going to go out any time soon to get drunk again, he couldn't deny that the tattoo had been one of his better ideas. He listened as Luka paid the delivery guy, listened as the door was slammed closed and bolted shut, listened as Luka dropped the pizza box onto the table, listened as Luka's footsteps brought him back to John.

Back to where he belonged.


The End.