Fic: Used

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Used
Chapters: 1/1
Author: csi_sanders1129
Genre: Angst. Drama.
Ratings: T
Word Count: 2,565
Pairings/Characters: Hank Lawson/Jeremiah Sacani, Divya Katdare.
Synopsis: In which Jeremiah has more than one reason to think that Hank used him.
Comments: Written in response to trope_bingo prompt: power dynamics. First shot at a Royal Pains fic, hopefully no one is too OOC. This has actually been in progress since about ten minutes after Season 5, Episode 12 aired, it goes AU around the Season 5 start, though, and sort of ignores the finale. Uses dialogue from Season 5, Episodes 12 and 13. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.

"Do you think Hank... used me?" Jeremiah anxiously asks of Divya, as they sit together in the hospital hallway in the aftermath of their respective cases. His mind has been buzzing with the idea since Dr. Shackleford planted it there during her non-interrogation, and it's nagged him to the point that he just has to... he needs to know.

Because it wasn't just the drugs.

No, it was so much more.

"Unless he thought he could use..." he chokes on the word, tries again, "Unless he thought he could count on me to give him what he wanted without asking questions, because I am... me."

"Jeremiah," she says, "You cannot blame yourself," she tells him, but that tells him all he really needs to know.

He stands and takes his leave as quickly as he can manage.

Barely makes it to his car before he's slamming his fists into the wheel in his outrage, wondering how the hell he let this happen. How he could have been so stupid, so foolishly naive, to think Hank trusted him, respected him, wanted him, anything.

Much to his dismay, the memory flashes in his mind.

He'd only gone to check on Hank. He hadn't looked good at the fundraiser party and he'd been concerned for the other man in the wake of his request for a scrip for painkillers. Six months out of surgery, he shouldn't be in any pain. It was perplexing. Troubling.

Hank had welcomed him in, and had eagerly agreed to a quick exam in exchange for the bottle of Hydrocodone Jeremiah had brought with him. He'd stripped off his shirt and let him poke and prod his neck and shoulders in search of the cause of Hank's mysterious pain until he was more or less satisfied (though still short on an explanation), and that should have been it.

But it wasn't.

Hank had popped a pill and downed a bottle of water and they'd sat there talking for a while. The subject of Divya came up, unfortunately, amidst a brief summary of Jeremiah's trip to Iceland, and he had unintentionally let slip his feelings for her, how she was slowly and methodically crushing his heart, without ever knowing what she was doing to him. "I need to move on," he'd admitted, resigned to the fact that she'd never want to be with him, "but I... I can't."

"Maybe I can help," Hank had offered. Jeremiah didn't know how he could, not unless he knew some way to make him magically forget Divya's existence even as they worked together every day, but apparently that's not what Hank had had in mind.

The kiss caught him off-guard, made it easy for Hank to push him back on the couch and move in closer.

Surprised as he was, it hadn't been bad. He'd kissed back, after a moment, and things had sort of spiraled out of his control from there.

The next morning, when he'd woken up passed out on the couch with Hank nowhere in sight, he'd been relieved to be able to make an easy escape, unhampered by Evan or Paige or Divya. He was sure Hank had just been really out of it, and that they'd never need to mention what happened again.

Except they had. And it had happened again, too. Again and again until it was sort of almost a regular thing between them. Until they were seeking each other out after bad days, after good days, too. Until Jeremiah would swear that Hank was spending more time with him than with his own brother, even. And, slowly, despite Divya moving in with him, leaning on him for support during her pregnancy, his feelings had started to change.

Was everything between them a lie, too? Was Hank just using him?

Somehow, and he's not sure how he manages it without getting pulled over or wrecking the car, he makes it home.

Divya's not there, for once he's glad. He needs the time alone right now, he thinks. He cleans and straightens things up automatically, stuck in his own head as he analyzes nearly every conversation, every interaction he's hand with Hank since this thing between them started.

There's been a night when Hank had called him to the guesthouse earlier than their usual meetings. He'd had dinner there, carry-out from some Italian place in Northampton - because they all know the Lawson brothers are terrible cooks. Jeremiah had frozen in the doorway, confused as to what exactly this meant, but Hank had herded him in with promises of actual work - they had patient charts to go over while they ate. After, though, things had gone in a much more familiar direction. With Evan and Paige happily staying at Shadow Pond, Hank had led him upstairs and he'd stayed the night.

That had seemed sincere, at least, he thinks. Hank had no reason to make it seem like what he'd imagine a date was supposed to entail if he weren't invested. There were plenty of closer places he could have picked up an easy dinner, but instead he'd gone to Jeremiah's favorite place.

Another meeting, this one before Divya had moved in with him, where Hank had stayed with him. They'd woken to an early morning emergency call from Divya concerning a patient and Hank had mumbled a sleepy reply of, 'Yeah, I'm at Jeremiah's, I'll meet you there,' that had caught him off-guard because, he thought, there weren't a lot of reasons for Hank to be asleep at his place at four in the morning that wouldn't arouse suspicion. It seemed perilously close to the truth when they'd fallen into this unspoken pattern of secrecy.

But it had remained a secret, as far as Jeremiah knew. Divya might suspect, he thinks, after today, but Hank had never given him any indication that he wanted their arrangement made public - a fact that Jeremiah would be perfectly fine with, if it's weren't for this nagging doubt that there was really a relationship at all.

He's so lost in those thoughts that he barely registers it when the doorbell rings, and when he does finally move to answer it, it's with the surprising realization that hours have passed.

He's even more surprised to find Hank at his door.

"What?" He snaps, rather uncharacteristically.

Hank must realize that something's wrong, Jeremiah thinks, based on the flash of concern on the other man's face. "Ugh... Divya called me. She said you were upset?"

That surprises him, too. That she would tell Hank. He wonders just how much she told him, if she has figured them out. "Shouldn't I be?"

"Can I come in?" Hank asks, "Can we just talk?"

Feeling more than a little bitter about everything, he counters, "So I can do you more favors?"

Hank frowns, edging somewhere between hurt and confused, but he doesn't get to be either of those things because Jeremiah is the one who is hurt and confused right now and he needs answers. Hank still comes in, though, when Jeremiah steps aside, follows him through the house and to the library, where Jeremiah had been reorganizing the books.

"You wanted to talk, so talk."

"What's going on?" Hank asks, reaching out a hand to settle on Jeremiah's arm. It is quickly shrugged away, and Jeremiah folds his arms over his chest in what is more than a physical barrier between them.

"You came to me for the drugs because you didn't think I would turn you down."

"I asked you for the drugs because you're a doctor," Hank counters, logically.

"You didn't tell anyone you were still on painkillers. You specifically told people you weren't on them anymore."

"I was scared, okay?" Hank insists. "I needed to prove that I could shoulder the burden all on my own. I needed to prove it to HankMed, to our patients, to myself. But that was my problem. And I made it yours."

"When I suggested alternatives to what you wanted, you deflected them. When I chose not to serve your expectations, you went behind my back. I know I should have found the cause of your pain sooner, saved you two months of trouble and I know that you are my boss, that you are in no way obligated to tell me anything concerning your health, but I thought... "

"No. No, it was manipulative of me, to ask you to prescribe those meds and then disregard your advice. I shouldn't have done that. I know. I'm sorry." Hank says, and Jeremiah would swear he's being genuine about all of this. They've said most of this, though it was in a different context, back when guilt was all Jeremiah was feeling, not this choked-off anger that's only making them talk in circles.

Jeremiah sighs. This isn't going right. "It's not even the drugs, not really," he admits, which seems to throw Hank off balance, like it had been an argument he'd been prepared for.

"It's not? Then, then what are you upset about?"

He pauses in his unending pacing across the length of the room because Hank just isn't getting it. "It's... it's... the rest of it. You, you might not have intended to take advantage of me regaring the drugs, but did you..." and this sounds so ridiculous, not something he'd ever thought he'd have to say, "were you using me for sex?"

Hank looks genuinely floored by the question, his mouth opens and closes more than once as he tries to figure out how to respond to that, and finally he settles on, "Is that what you think?"

"I am unsure what I think. I think Dr. Shackleford caused me to question everything I thought I knew about you, that Divya didn't help, and that I'm... I'm not... I know that I'm not always the best at reading social situations or people or relationships and that this," he gestures between them, "this is the longest one I've ever had, so... just tell me. Was it all because you didn't think I would say no?"

"No!"

Jeremiah looks less than convinced.

"That first time, when I kissed you," he starts, smiles at the memory, "I don't know why I did it, what made me do it, but I thought you'd say no. Every second, every move, I thought you'd stop me. You never did."

"I didn't," he agrees.

"Oh," Hank says, as a realization seems to hit him, and he stares up at Jeremiah looking like he's about to be sick. "Oh, god. Did... did you want to say no? Did you go along with me because you thought you had to or because of HankMed or-"

"No," Jeremiah says, quickly squashing that idea because it is not true and he doesn't need Hank thinking things like that about him. He can see flashes of terrified guilt on Hank's face already. "No, I went along because I wanted to," he says, noting the relieved sigh Hank heaves. "Or, in the case of the drugs, because I believed you were in pain." He'd seen it, a time or two, when they were together. In the way Hank would account for movements that he anticipated would hurt ahead of time, or cringe if he didn't manage it. "That's the reason I'm not mad about the drugs, because I know you were in pain."

Hank, relieved to hear those things, reaches out for him again. Jeremiah drops his crossed arms, and doesn't try to stop him this time. "I care about you, okay? And I'm not... good at this either, not really," he admits, and Jeremiah is familiar enough with his past relationships to know that it's true. "But I swear I wasn't using you like that. What happened between us, I can't say I expected it, but it did happen and I wouldn't change anything." Except the pills, of course, but there's no need to start that back up again. "I know I broke your trust, Jeremiah, disrespected you, and I'm sorry for all of it. So, forget about HankMed, forget everything else. Do you still want this? Can we get passed it all?"

Jeremiah's mind is reeling. He's pretty sure of his answer, though. If he can forgive Hank for the drugs, which he can, he's sure, because pain can make even the most brilliant people do tremendously stupid things; if he believes that Hank wants this relationship to work as much as he does, which he does, he's sure, because there's no reason for Hank to keep fighting for it, otherwise. If both of those things are true, then there is no question.

"Yes," he finally says, once his thoughts have sorted themselves out. "We can. I accept your apology. And I do still want this, more than you know. But I don't think we should work together anymore. I'm not leaving HankMed," he says, before the flicker of alarm on Hank's face can develop further, "but I can't work with you on cases. I compromised my medical judgment in prescribing those pills for you, partly because I wanted to please you, and I mustn't risk repeating those errors, so I can't-"

"I understand," Hank assures him, "I'll do whatever it takes to get you to trust me again, and I understand your hesitation to do so, I do. But HankMed needs you. I need you. You can avoid me all you want at work, I'll give you whatever space you need for as long as you need it. Just... I'll be here."

Hank's hand slides down his arm, and he turns to go, to give him that space he requested, but Jeremiah catches him before he can get anywhere, holds tight to the hand he captures in his own. "Thank you. Limiting our interactions at work will be helpful," he says, "but for now, would you care to have dinner with me?"

It's the first time Jeremiah has been the one to propose such a thing. While he'd nervously instigated a few of their encounters, it was usually Hank's doing. And it was always Hank who showed up with dinner or an interesting medical documentary.

Clearly surprised, Hank stops trying to leave. "Really?"

Jeremiah nods, "Is that okay?"

"Yes," Hank says, breathing another sigh of relief, likely because he's managed to successfully make it clear that the request for space did not extend to their interactions outside of work. "Dinner sounds great." Hank's hands land on his arms again, and without all of the tension between them, things start to feel normal again, so he goes with it when Hank leans up and kisses him, pulls Hank in closer as his own hands settle on Hank's sides.

"Ahem," comes a familiar voice from the doorway. "Worked everything out, have you?"

They break apart quickly, spinning to find Divya hovering there, looking fairly amused and more than a little smug at happening upon them like this. "Ugh," Hank stammers, "It looks that way. We were just, ugh, leaving, if you're alright by yourself?"

Divya looks to Jeremiah for confirmation, "Ugh, yes. Everything is fine. It is likely I will be back late."

"Have fun, boys!" Divya laughs, "and for the record," she starts, even as she waves them by her with a smile, "while Evan still thinks you have a crush on me, I've known about this all along!"