TITLE: When It Rains, It Bores
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING: PG-13
KEYWORDS: Romance (general), humor (of a sort), not a lick of medicine.
LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Kisangani"
TIMELINE: "April Showers"
ARCHIVE: If you must.
DISCLAIMER: ER and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No
infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written
for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for
your own pleasure.
SUMMARY: Shopping for baby gear; a wedding; an unexpected (even by
the author!) cameo.
SPOILERS: For "April Showers", but only in the vaguest sense.
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Home and Dry; And Miles to Go Before I Sleep;
Through the Hourglass; Jupiter Aligns with Mars; Shopworn; Come as You
Aren't; Out and About; Up in the Air; Serpent's Tooth; Thanks a Lot!;
Shall We Dance?; Yes, Sir, That's My Baby!; Yule-Tied; Should Auld
Acquaintance; Running with Scissors; Six White Flags Over Chicago;
Sea Change; My Time Coming; Can't See the Forest for the Trees; Boys'
Night Out/Girls' Night In; Peace of My Heart; In The Midnight Hour; In
Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb; Infamy!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Miesque for input and feedback.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER: Kerry was hospitalized for the remainder of
her pregnancy; Mark and Elizabeth planned their wedding with a baby
on the way; Mark and Luka agreed to help each other with their
respective nurseries, in order to get them put together in time
for the arrival of their offspring.


"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour"
--Chaucer

"Wha the huh in the eh?"
--Miesque


Luka had been sent on the shopping expedition with a list that
Kerry had put together. At least, he thought, they were going
in Mark's minivan: the Volvo could carry a lot of stuff, but
the minivan could handle - he hoped - the amount of stuff they
were going to be buying.

They found themselves in a shop on the Northside with the odd
name of "Bairniture". Since Mark's knowledge of Scottish
things mostly consisted of the liquor and the odd rerun of
"Braveheart" on TNT, Luka had had to explain the name. It
turned out to be a faintly high-end place, with the smell of
potpourri in the air and baby furniture that carried some
startling pricetags: he suspected that there were third-world
countries that could be fed for a year with the price of one
of the more expensive crib sets.

One of the clerks approached them as they were examining a row
of cribs for sturdiness. Mark seemed to be favoring a pretty
white crib with teddy bears painted on the ends, while Luka
preferred the darker shades of wood. The woman glanced at the
crib Luka was checking over. "Ah, yes. The 'Mathilda' model.
Very popular. We've got a lovely assortment of beddings -
different themes and colors - to go with the cribs."

"Sure," Luka said absently, barely aware of the woman's chatter
as he checked the frame. Marco'd been hell on his crib, had
managed to gnaw through part of the top railing in the course of
his teething. Danijela had, however, vetoed Luka's half-serious
suggestion of throwing in a strip of rawhide for the boy to chew on.

"You know, I think it's wonderful, that the two of you are going
to be raising a child," she blurted out. That got Luka's attention.

"What?!"

"You make such a lovely couple," she said earnestly. "I think
it's a shame that you can't make it legal."

"Uh? You think we're--" Mark looked away from the crib he'd
chosen; he'd been listening to the clerk's spiel.

"Oh, honey," Mark pretended to simper. "Isn't this white
crib just the most darling thing you ever saw?" He couldn't
keep up the adoring tone of voice for long, though, and
began giggling at Luka's obvious irritation.

"Shut it, Mark. No, no, we're shopping for separate nurseries."
The clerk's cheeks went pink.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I just assumed... it's so rare for men to
come in here without their wives."

"My wife is in the hospital. He," Luka pointed at Mark, "just
likes to look at baby things. I think it's a fetish with him."
He said it so deadpan that Mark didn't react at first. The
store clerk coughed out a hesitant little laugh, and Mark looked
around for a handy object to throw at him.

"Um, okay," the clerk muttered, then got her second wind.
"We've got some lovely poppettes that you might like to
see."

"Poppettes? Those are... what, like dinner rolls?"

"They're little sleeping bags for babies - the bag comes up
around the armpits, and there's a vest so the bag doesn't slip
down. Um... they're very popular in France..." she began, then
trailed off at the incredulous look on Luka's face. "I'll,
uh, just be right over there, if you need any help."

"Thank you." Mark watched the woman walk away from them.

"I'll have to remember to take you along, the next time I have
to do some shopping - I never get helped that quickly when
I go by myself."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mark smirked at him.

"With any luck, you never will - you'd be impossible."

* * *

"Hi!" Randi looked up from her ever-present magazine,
startled by the cheerful greeting - in a place like this! -
and then smiled.

"Jeanie! Hi, how are you? And Carlos is getting so big!
Soo-oo cute!" Randi made silly faces at the little boy, who
Jeanie had lifted up to the desk; he burbled at her, and she
burbled right back.

"I'm doing great, thanks. We all are."

"So what brings you by here? You're not sick, are you?"

"No, no. Everybody's fine. I came by to visit Kerry, and
I thought I'd stop down here and say hello while I was here."

"So you know she's in the hospital?"

"Yeah. She called me, and asked me to come see her. So who's
minding the place while she's out?"

"Mm. Dr Kovac got roped into doing a lot of it - he's around
here a lot anyway."

"Oh, that's too bad, that he's having to work extra shifts."
She didn't know the guy very well, but she'd heard that he was nice.

"No, that's his choice - I don't think he likes being at home
by himself. Besides, it gives him time to go up and see her."
Jeanie stared blankly at Randi.

"Wait a minute... what? I'm obviously way out of the loop!"

"Oh, you didn't hear? They - Kovac and Weaver - got married, on
Valentine's Day."

"No, I didn't hear - she didn't say anything about it to me."
She was awkwardly aware of the hurt in her voice... why should
she feel hurt? Maybe this was how Kerry had felt, when she'd
had her brief reconciliation with Al and hadn't shared any of
the "juicy" details with Kerry.

"Oh. Uh..." Randi sucked in her breath uneasily - the thought
of calling Jeanie, when she'd thrown together the impromptu
bachelorette party, honestly hadn't occurred to her. She'd
known - in abstract - that Kerry was close to the woman, but
she just hadn't thought past inviting female coworkers.

* * *

Jeanie knocked on the door and waited for the mumbled "Come in"
before she entered the room. Kerry had her glasses on and was
looking over some paperwork as Jeanie and Carlos came in, but
she put the work aside.

"Hi, Jeanie."

"Kerry. So I hear you've had a few things happen around here?"

"Yeah, just a few."

"So what was so hush-hush that you didn't want to tell me over
the phone?" It was something big, Jeanie knew, judging by the
radiant look on Kerry's face.

"It's not a secret. I just wanted to see the look on your face
when I told you I'm going to have a baby, sometime in July."

"Oh! My gosh, that's wonderful!" She couldn't deny that she
wondered what it would be like to feel a little life growing
inside of her body, but she also knew how irresponsible it
would be, to do that to a baby when she was HIV-positive. But
Kerry wasn't finished.

"And, I wanted to hire you."

"Hire me? Why?"

"Because I've been restricted to bedrest for the next few
months... I've been having trouble with my hips. But, I still
need to keep up the muscle tone in my legs in the meantime, so
I need a physical therapist. And since I already know you, I'd
rather have you helping me than someone I don't know from
that department." Jeanie's eyes strayed to her little boy, who
was waddling around the foot of the bed and diligently checking
out what was under the loose folds of blanket. Kerry wiggled her
foot to catch his attention.

"Uh, but what about Carlos? I can't just leave him with a sitter
to come over here."

"No, of course you can't. I wouldn't expect you to. But you can
bring him along with you - it's been ages since I've seen him.
C'mon, Jeanie, please." Jeanie sighed.

"Carlos, do you remember Kerry?" Carlos studied Kerry seriously
for a moment.

"Kiwi!" he finally announced, looking up at Jeanie with a big
toothy grin.

"No, no. Ker-ry," she enunciated carefully.

"Ki-wi!" Carlos insisted. Kerry snickered.

"Don't worry about it, Jeanie. I'm starting to feel like a giant
kiwi - big, round and hairy."

"Sure, Kerry. I can take you on for a couple times a week for the
next few months."

* * *

Frank glared at Dave, who'd been whistling. "What the hell are you
so cheerful about?"

"Huh? Oh... it's a pretty good day." Frank glanced out the door at
the sheets of rain, and sniffed disdainfully.

"Oh, yeah, I can see that."

"Dr Greene and Dr Corday are gettin' married today. I'm off in--"
he consulted the clock on the wall. "Two minutes. And then I'm
going to that wedding."

"You're not planning on riding your bike in that crappy weather,
are ya?"

"Nope. Dr Dennison's gonna give me a ride. Hey. You want us to
pick up some hot girls for you while we're there?" Frank shook
his head.

"Nuh-uh. I met a woman at a wedding once."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"She tried to kill me in my sleep, later."

"Huh. I dunno why any woman would wanna do that to you - you're
obviously a great guy with many stellar qualities."

"It's a mystery, all right," Frank agreed. Dave spotted Nick
outside, waving at him, and practically lunged at the clipboard
to sign out. Thank God, he thought, that sarcasm was often lost
on Frank. He barely stopped long enough to grab his jacket out
of his locker, and went out to join his partner.

"Hey. You got the present?"

"I picked it up right after I was done with my shift at the 'doc
in the box'. It's in the back of the car." Dave got in and fastened
his seatbelt, then fiddled with the car's radio tuner to try to
pick up some hard rock. "Stop that, please." He sheepishly put
it back on Nick's station - he didn't mind the music that Nick
liked, but it wasn't what he preferred.

"Sorry. It'd be nice if they'd call you to take some shifts here.
I feel like I don't get to see enough of you lately. Oh... what did
we get them?"

"Crockpot. They're great."

"Yeah? My sister Stella said she loves hers. Maybe we should think
about getting one for ourselves. It'd be great to come home to a
hot dinner." Nick shrugged.

"Dunno. I'm always paranoid that the power's going to go out or
something, and leave me with meat sitting there at room temperature
the whole time I'm out."

* * *

Dave struggled as Nick tried to get him to sit still on the foyer
bench long enough to fasten a tie around his neck. "You're how
old, and you can't do a Windsor knot?"

"I don't like ties! You know that. Cuts off the bloodflow to
the brain."

"Yeah, yeah, and it gives you an excuse to wear scrub tops every
day. Not that I'm complaining about the way you look in scrubs,
of course, but maybe you should start thinking about a more
professional look."

"C'mon, baby... that's what clip-ons are for."

"That's what I used to think. Trust me, however - nothing looks
sillier than a clip-on tie coming off during an M&M." He gave Dave
a moment to think about how that might look.

"Except for the tie in the first place," Dave retorted, smacking
Nick's hands away from the tie that Nick had brought along in his
pocket and looped around Dave's neck. Nick sighed.

"Behave, and when we get home I'll..." he whispered something
in Dave's ear that promptly had the younger man sitting still
and enduring Nick's efforts. "Much better," he finally decided,
and they headed into the main part of the church together. They
would have preferred to hold hands, but since neither of them
had "officially" come out at work yet - and since neither of
them wanted to upstage Mark and Elizabeth's wedding - they had
decided to be "just friends" in public for a little longer.

* * *

A soaking-wet Mark stormed into the hospital, a plastic
dry-cleaner's bag slung over his shoulder. He'd had to park
a ways from the door, in order to get a legal space, but he
absolutely had to come in to retrieve his wallet from his
locker. He could have left the tux in the mini-van, but it
would be just his luck to go back out and find that his car
had been stolen.

Well, at least he could change into his tux here, and then
dash back to his car. He was already running a little behind,
and it would save him a little time if he was already changed
when he got to the church. Trousers, vest, coat, shirt-- "Son
of a bitch!" His shout brought several people into the lounge
to see what the matter was.

"What's wrong?" Mark pulled his tuxedo shirt the rest of the
way out of the bag, so that the others could see it.

"They didn't get the mustard out - it looks awful!" Luka
glanced at it.

"The vest won't cover it?" Mark silently pointed at the shirt,
which had an enormous bright yellow stain slicing across the
front... right above where the vest buttoned. "Oh... I guess
not." He didn't want to think about why Mark would have been
eating something with mustard while wearing a tuxedo.

"Give him your shirt, Luka," Abby suggested, which caused
the nurses to echo that sentiment, with a few cheerful cat-
calls and wolf-whistles thrown in for good measure. He glared
at her.

"Thank you so much, for inciting the mob! Let me check my
locker for a dry, clean shirt. I don't think Mark wants
this one." Somebody in the growing crowd - he thought it
might have been Chuny - offered to take his shirt, rain-soaked
from an earlier dash outside, off his hands right now, and he
rolled his eyes. "You're all heart. And I'm changing my shirt in
private." He made a rude noise at the plaintive "awww" that
came from somebody.

* * *

Mark had just left, with his borrowed shirt, for his wedding;
Luka suspected that he and Kerry had been better off with
their very small and very private ceremony. Chicago was having
one of its periodic torrential rainstorms, with rain coming
down like a cow pissing on a flat rock, and Luka was perfectly
content to be working tonight instead of braving the elements
to attend a wedding. He glanced at his watch... with luck, he'd
have a chance to head upstairs later, to spend some time with
Kerry. He hated that she was going to be in the hospital for
the next few months, but at least they'd be spared the hectic
rush to the hospital, once she actually went into labor.

* * *

The traffic was bad - even by Chicago's standards - and there
were a couple of times that Mark thought it might be faster to
just abandon the car and walk the rest of the way. But finally
he made it into the parking lot of St James Cathedral and found
an empty spot that wasn't too far from the front door.

On his way in, he was stopped by a couple. "Hey, buddy. Could you
direct us to the Corday-Greene wedding?" Mark nearly snapped at
them... until he recognized the playful little chuckle.

"Doug?! You made it!" Man, Doug had really gone grey since
moving to Seattle.

"Mm-hm. You know we wouldn't miss something like this for the
world, don't you?" Mark had to look at Doug's doe-eyed companion
several times before he recognized Carol; the former charge
nurse had had her hair cut very short, in a sleek bob.

"My god... Carol, you look great. How are you guys doing?"

"We're doing well, Mark. The girls are camped out with my mom
right now, and we?re... sort of on a honeymoon of our own."

"Wait... you two finally made it legal?"

"Yeah. Took us how many years to get around to it?" Doug mused.

"Too long!" Carol crowed, and showed off her ring. It wasn't
fancy, certainly nowhere near as flashy as the one Tag had given
her years ago, but she liked it just fine. She especially liked
the ring right next to it on her finger, that Doug had put there
just last week.

* * *.

"Sure was good to see Mark and Elizabeth again." Doug lazily
stroked his wife's back as she pored over one of the books
she'd brought with her.

"Mmmm-hm," she said distractedly.

"Elizabeth was certainly a beautiful bride, and Mark's looking
well, all things considered."

"Mmmm-hm." Doug grinned.

"And of course, it was wonderful when Romano went to the front
of the church and did a striptease for the audience."

"Mmmm-h-- what?!?" Carol turned away from her book and glared
at him, then indignantly whacked his shoulder when he began
laughing. "Doug, come on! I start classes in September, in less
than five months, and I wanna get a jump on the other students."

"Carol, you're gonna do fine. Just remember - if I could get
through med school, you can do it too. And better than I did,
I'll bet." She pretended to think about that for a moment.

"Well... that's true. I did score in the 85th percentile on my MCATs."

"Thanks for agreeing so readily!" Carol pushed the book away -
it landed on the floor with a solid >thump< - and pounced on Doug.

"Any time, baby," she purred.

* * *

"And then Abby said, 'Give him your shirt, Luka!'" Mark said, as
he cuddled his new bride in their honeymoon suite.

"Mm. Well, the important thing is that you finally did make it
to the church. Everybody was starting to worry that you might not
arrive."

"Would've made Romano's day if I hadn't, I'll bet," Mark said sourly.

"Actually, he was rather sweet... in that, er, 'unique' way
that he has - he antagonized my parents, which seemed to get
their minds off my predicament, and then joked about betting
fifty dollars that you wouldn't show up."

"Helluva joke!" Elizabeth giggled at Mark's indignant reaction.

"Well, yes. Just as he was about to leave the room, he stopped,
turned around, and told us that he'd heard you had arrived. He
said it was the best fifty bucks he'd ever lost." Mark coughed
in surprise.

"Romano said that? Maybe we need a psych consult for him!"

"I like that idea," Elizabeth said mischievously. "That
would make me chief of surgery, if he were removed!"

"Acting chief, anyway," Mark reminded her. "But don't take
it, if it means being like Kerry."

"Oh, pooh!"

"'Pooh'? Oh, god... please don't say that word - I'll be lucky
if I'm not dreaming of Barney and Teletubbies and Winnie the
Pooh for weeks after this. I've already done more than enough
shopping for baby stuff to last me for years, and there's still
the actual work on the nursery to be done."

"Painting and assembly and all those little baby-proofing things?"

"Uh-huh. All the stuff that you get to get out of." Elizabeth
sighed, and tried to maneuver her big blob of a body into a
more comfortable position... or at least a less uncomfortable
one. Cuddling with Mark was lovely, but she just couldn't stand
certain positions for very long.

"Oh, yes. I have it easy. All I have to do is squeeze
this," she pointed at her enormous tummy, "out of that,"
she indicated her crotch, "and then breast-feed it for however
many months. And did I mention the constipation, hemorrhoids,
backaches, heartburn, shortness of breath, incontinence and
insomnia?" Mark squeezed her hand, apparently unperturbed by
her outburst.

"So... I guess you don't want a snack from room service?"
Elizabeth huffed, and shifted on the bed again.

"As much as I'm enjoying this all-too-short honeymoon, Mark,
I'll be glad when I've given birth. I don't know how women
manage to do this more than once."

"I hear amnesia sets in afterwards. I guess the human race
would go extinct, otherwise." She found a position on her
side that wasn't too bad - even though she felt like a
pregnant cow lying that way - and sighed again.

"Mmm... my mother used to make jokes about animals that eat
their young. The jokes never seemed funny before."

"Oh? Should I hide the ketchup?" She patted his leg soothingly.

"Ketchup? Don't be silly, Mark. I'm British: I would want
malt vinegar, of course."


POST-OP NOTES:

* "Bairn" = Scottish/rural English term for a child. That's all.

* I am not kidding about "poppettes". I wish I was.

* Carlos's nickname for Kerry, "Kiwi", came from the ER RPG on
Topica... unfortunately, the file on my computer that had that
information was lost in the move to Linux, so I can't give proper
credit. :-(

* Really, though, wasn't Mark's "real" expedition to the church just a
little tedious?


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