Writer: Sabaku No Kel
Fandom: Hellboy
Pairing: Hellboy x John Myers
Title: Sick
Words: 4967
Rating: Overall rating M (This chapter T for mild language)
Warning: none
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy or it's characters and do not make any money out of writing this.
AN1: Hello lovelies! This week's story is for the awesome Mrs. Bumblebee, who thought of the idea. Even though I told here I didn't think I was going to do this it got stuck in my head and didn't want to go away. I really like this story though, it was easy writing :)
Enjoy!
000 Sick 000
John felt awful. Just downright awful. The moment he opened his eyes he realized several things all at once, his nose was stuffy, his throat was sore, his eyes burned and he had a pounding headache. Part of him briefly considered calling in sick but the other, more rational part of his senses dismissed the idea as quickly as it had manifested. He was a trained FBI agent and he'd be damned it he was going to let a little cold keep him down, not when he had a job to do.
Turning over with a groan John smacked his hand down on his alarm and turned it off, the blaring sound not at all helping the stabbing pain in his skull, as he forced himself up and out of bed. In hindsight that might not have been a very smart move for the moment he propelled himself out of bed his headache, which he believed couldn't possibly get any worse, only intensified as a feeling of vertigo overtook him. Bracing his weight against the wall John forced himself to breathe through the pain as he closed his eyes so the feeling of dizziness didn't affect him as much. After a minute or so of standing and breathing he felt the headache lessen (though not fully dissipate) as he slowly opened his eyes again to find the room no longer tilting.
God, he hated being sick.
Knowing he couldn't keep leaning against the wall all day no matter how bad he felt John slowly made his way to the other side of the room so he could turn on the light, his hand not leaving the wall in case another bout of vertigo assaulted him. It took almost three times as long as usual to cross the short distance but he eventually found his hand clutching the familiar wooden frame of his closet as his fingers grazed over the wall before locating the light switch. He flicked the lights on automatically and realized a second too late he had made another stupid mistake in doing so as the room was illuminated in a bright yellow glow, his eyes burning and his head once again pounding at the sudden sensory overload.
Rephrase that, he
really hated being sick.
Closing his eyes helped some but not an awful lot so after a few seconds he decided to attempt opening them again, blinking rapidly as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Spots danced across his vision but eventually they faded as he was able to open his eyes and keep them open without feeling like someone had just punched him. Now able to see John shuffled his way into the bathroom, flicked on the light in there as well and proceeded to go through his usual morning ritual. After ridding himself of his morning breath and combing out his bed hair he returned to the closet in his bedroom where he picked out his clothes for the day. The process of undressing and re-dressing was a slow one as every time he looked down or moved too fast his world would tilt on its axis and attempt to take him down, making him stumble and almost fall over. Eventually John found himself dressed and presentable in one of his standard black suits though he had, for just this once, foregone a tie as attempting to knot it had been too difficult in his current state.
Leaving his bedroom in favour of the living room/kitchen combo he passed by a mirror on the way and paused to look at himself. He really did look as awful as he felt, he had dark bags under his eyes, his skin was sickly pale and his chapped lips only made the whole picture worse. His reflection clearly gave away how sick as a dog he felt and it would be an easy feat for his colleagues to notice that as well, instead of crawling back to bed like his body was telling him to do though he moved on to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water for his parched throat. He drank almost greedily but the cold liquid only brought a few seconds of relief before the soreness returned again. John sighed and put his glass down in the sink to wash later, he thought about eating something for breakfast but the thought of food made his stomach churn so he decided not to. Sending a quick prayer to whatever deity was listening in the hopes that his condition wouldn't get any worse he left his quarters, heading down the familiar halls of the BPRD for another day of picking up after his charge, high stacks of paperwork and the possibility of another life-threatening mission.
Some may call him stubborn or even stupid for going to work while he was obviously not fit to do so but John considered himself determined. His job was everything to him after all and he worked very hard to be able to keep it, calling in sick would only undo all his hard work and effort and that was just something he couldn't allow to happen, no matter what.
He headed in the direction of the kitchen where a cart of food was already waiting for him to be wheeled to Hellboy's room, several high stacks of pamcakes, plates of eggs and bacon, almost an entire loaf of bread turned toast and a pitcher of orange juice were just a few of the pieces that made up the demon's breakfast and just the sight of it all made John gag. He was just very glad he didn't have to eat any of it as retrieved the cart and started wheeling it to his charge's quarters. Normally this would be an easy task but it seemed like the cart was even heavier today than it had been on any other day in the past, the muscles in his arms and legs already hurting as his body tired easily. Fortunately Hellboy's rooms were only a little farther away now and John was certainly glad for that as his vision blurred and swam. If it hadn't been for the cart holding him upright he surely would have toppled over and as the familiar vault-like door came into view he let out a sigh of relief.
He pushed the cart the final few feet down the hallway and let it roll to a stop so he could unlock the door. He took out his key and, while keeping his hand on the cart, inserted it into the keyhole and opened the locks. After the door had been unlocked he had to use all the strength he had (which, currently, wasn't a whole lot) to pull the heavy metal door open. He succeeded but the effort it took him to pull the door open had him panting heavily from exertion, which, as a trained FBI agent, he found quite embarrassing. None the less he stumbled his way back to the cart and pushed it through the open doorway. The moment he entered the room he was assaulted by the scent of cats, cigars and the strange combination of earth and fire which made up Hellboy's unique scent, he was quiet used to this but it still made him shiver, not necessarily in a bad way, every time.
He closed the door behind himself, trying to keep his panting to a minimum in front of his charge as he wheeled the cart deeper into the cluttered room. Cats swarmed around his feet, if that was because they really liked him or because they recognized him as the bringer of food he didn't know but he still stopped to pet one, Cuddles, he believed, before moving on. The stereo sound of multiple television sets caught his attention and he looked up to find Hellboy staring with great interest at old cartoon re-runs. The demon hadn't looked up when he entered, not like John had expected otherwise, but it just proved to show how much his charge really thought of him if such things as cartoons and food deserved more attention than he did.
John sighed and tried not to let it get to him as he forced on a smile. "Good morning, Hellboy." John greeted, or at least, attempted to, for the moment he tried to speak his throat closed up and clenched in pain. He coughed loudly, hand coming up to cover his mouth, but once he'd started he couldn't stop as he tried to breathe through the feeling of what felt suspiciously like a lump of sandpaper trying to choke him to death. The demon looked up at the sound and though it was hard to tell with the tears in his eyes John could have sworn he saw worry in those golden eyes. Hellboy was by his side within seconds, patting his back in a surprisingly gentle fashion as the agent's coughs slowly died out.
"You look like shit, kid." Hellboy informed him once John's breathing had returned to normal, speaking to him like he wasn't already aware of this fact. The demon's hand still hadn't left his back though, now rubbing in comforting circles, and John chose not to point this out to him because it felt kind of nice, like somebody actually cared that he wasn't feeling well and wanted to lessen the discomfort for him, if only a little. He wasn't going to delude himself by thinking HB cared or anything though, the demon probably just wanted his food and figured that the agent would get it there faster if he at least pretended to be interested in his liaison's well-being. It were times like this that John wished he was still at home where he would surely be nursed back to health by the loving hands of his aunt and uncle instead of here at the BPRD where he was just another agent.
"I
feel like shit." John responded to the demon's earlier comment as he started back on his job as glorified nanny by clearing the table so he could place the large amounts of food on the flat surface. The moment he let go of the cart to go throw out a couple of empty cans of Red Bull though his knees buckled, making him lose his footing as the floor came up to meet him. He closed his eyes, preparing for the pain of collision but none came, confused by this it took him a little while to realize he wasn't moving towards the ground, in fact, he wasn't moving at all! Something had stopped him from falling and when he opened his eyes he saw what, or rather,
who, had just saved him from what might have been a very painful fall.
Hellboy was looking at him, that same look of worry (and this time there was no denying that it was indeed just that) on his face as before as he had his normal hand hooked around John's arm, keeping him from falling. The demon pulled him back upright but the sudden movement made John stumble, his own hand shooting out to rest on HB's chest as a stone hand wrapped around his waist, leaving them really close to one another. John was sure his face would have heated up if it weren't already burning with a fever as he looked away from his charge, not catching the small but evident smirk on the demon's lips.
"You shouldn't be working like this." Hellboy said softly into one of his ears as John felt the words rumble in the demon's chest through the hand still placed there. His sickness must be making him delusional as well for there was just no way his charge would willing get this close, not to him or any other man for that matter, and act like nothing was wrong.
"I'm fine HB, really." John insisted as he removed his hand from the demon's hard chest, urging him to do the same. Unlike he had expected his charge did in fact not let go, if anything his grip only got (a little not to the point of hurting) tighter. John looked up in confusion and found a look on the other's face that clearly said he didn't believe for one bit that John was 'fine'.
The agent sighed and though he was pretty sure it was a lost cause still tried to convince his charge he didn't feel like he was about to collapse at any second. "It's just a minor cold, it'll pass." John said but Hellboy still didn't look very convinced.
"You are not fine, you're sick which means you should be in bed recovering." The demon said in his no-nonsense voice and though John knew his charge was right he also knew he simply couldn't crawl back to bed while there was paperwork and so many other things to be done. He couldn't afford to let his work pile up because then it would just fall on someone's else's shoulder and John would be seen as unfit for his job or he'd have to pull several all-nighters to pick up the slack himself. If only he could make the demon realize that then he wouldn't be making a fuss over this.
"I have a job to do-" John tried to explain but before he could offer the rest of his explanation (excuse?) the demon butted in.
"Work can wait." Hellboy declared but before John could argue with that he continued. "For now let's get you into bed." The demon said and John frowned, confused. His confusion only lasted for so long before he felt his charge's stone hand dip lower, hooking under his knees and lifting him off the ground as his normal hand supported John's shoulder.
"Woah! HB, what are you doing? Put me down this instance!" The agent struggled as Hellboy simply ignored him, carrying him bridal-style in the direction of his bed.
"No." The demon simply said, fighting off a smile.
"No? How do you mean 'no'?" John snapped at him, only weakly trying to get out of the other's hold now as he was quickly getting tired and the movement was making his head hurt again.
"No, as in, I won't put you down." Hellboy explained to him like he was a five-year old being told he couldn't stay up past his bed time and John glared at his charge. The demon hardly seemed to notice.
"If you won't go back to bed willingly then I'll just have to make you." Hellboy said, sounding almost like he was making a promise, as he stopped walking and John realized they had stopped next to the demon's truck bed. His eyes widened.
"You can't be serious." But one look at the demon told him that he was.
Hellboy said nothing as he placed John gently on the bed, the covers already drawn back, and started on removing the agent's shoes and socks. Through the process of the partial removal of his clothing John sat quietly, mostly due to shock, and stared at the demon's hands as they untied his shoes and took them off for him as well before slipping his socks off his feet, leaving them bare. It wasn't until his charge had gently eased him back against a propped up pillow that he realized the demon was actually going through with his plan to make him go to bed, John just hadn't expected it to be Hellboy's bed he was going to be confined to.
"Give me your jacket." Hellboy said, making John wonder how much more clothing he was going to have to remove before the demon would be satisfied.
"No." He refused, knowing he was being stubborn but not caring. He figured that Hellboy wasn't going to let him sleep in his jacket and if he wasn't going to sleep he might be able to convince his charge to let him get back to work or at least do some paperwork in bed, that way he wouldn't get behind too much and would only have to do a few hours of overtime to get back on schedule. Hellboy wasn't having it though as he crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brows at him.
"John, give me your jacket or I'll take it off for you." The demon said, using his 'I'm-in-control'-voice which alone was enough for John to know the other wasn't going to let this go. The agent glared at his charge, attempting to out-stubborn the demon, but gave up after a few seconds when he realized the other probably had no qualms with ripping the jacket off him if he didn't cooperate.
"Fine." John grumbled, shrugging out of his jacket before handing it to the demon. "Happy now?" He asked and even though it was a rhetorical question Hellboy still answered.
"No, but we're getting there." The demon said, smiling as the agent's brow twitched in annoyance. "Lie down." Hellboy commanded, pulling the covers back a little further so John could slide under them, not that he wanted to. The agent let out a sound of exasperation but complied, though he certainly didn't look happy doing so.
"Really, HB, this isn't necessary." John insisted even though his headache seemed to lessen the moment his head touched the fluffy pillow.
"Humor me." Hellboy shot back, pulling the covers over him and wrapping the agent up in a cocoon of warm blankets and the demon's familiar, calming scent.
"I don't have time to be lying around in bed when there's paperwork waiting to be done." John protested though not as fervently as before, his eyes already starting to droop. Hellboy smirked, instantly noticing how his liaison was having trouble with keeping his eyes open as he turned around and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
"Your health is more important than paperwork." The demon said and though John couldn't see the look on his charge's face as he spoke he could hear the affection in his words. His heart warmed at the show of concern coming from such an unusual source.
"Manning wouldn't agree with that." John mumbled once he was sure Hellboy couldn't hear him, dampening his own happiness some at the thought of the rant he was sure to receive from the Director when he found out John wasn't fulfilling his duties. Just the thought of what Manning might say made him shudder, like it wasn't enough that he was already feeling underappreciated now his self-esteem actually had to be pounded into the ground by his boss as well.
Hellboy returned from the kitchen, holding something in his hand John couldn't quite make out, and pointed him with a look that said he better stop thinking whatever it was he was thinking because it wasn't true.
"Fuck Manning then, if he doesn't care about your well-being then you shouldn't care about him and his stupid paperwork." Hellboy said, a touch of anger he was sure wasn't so much directed at him as it was at their Director in his voice, as he sat down on the bed beside John. The agent frowned, thinking his charge had either suddenly gotten psychic powers or had heard him make that comment about Manning all the way from the kitchen with his super-human hearing. Probably the latter, it wasn't exactly easy keeping his voice down with a sore throat.
"Now open up so I can take your temperature." Hellboy said, opening his hand to reveal a small box. The box was opened and out came a thermometer that looked like it had never been used before. John sighed but opened his mouth so Hellboy could slip the instrument between his lips and under his tongue. At least it was an oral thermometer, thank God for small miracles, right?
They sat in silence, though not an uncomfortable one, waiting for the thermometer to finish taking his temperature. When the instrument beeped Hellboy took it and read from the small screen.
"40.5 degrees Celsius." The demon said and John groaned. "Congratulations kid, you have a fever." Hellboy declared as he placed the thermometer on his nightstand, giving John a look that just screamed I-told-you-so.
"Fine, I'll stay in bed." John gave in, trying but unable to keep his lips from twitching upwards at Hellboy's victorious smile. Truth be told he was sure he wouldn't be allowed out of bed anyways even if his temperature wasn't high enough to warrant a fever.
"Good. Now, you just try and get some sleep while I get you a wet cloth for your forehead, okay?" Hellboy proposed as he rose from the bed, John snuggling deeper into he covers as he nodded in agreement, already too far on his way to dreamland to do any more.
As he slept John teetered in and out of consciousness, not fully waking but not exactly sleeping either. In those moments he was aware of several things, something cool dapping at his neck and forehead, faraway voices, gentle touches and many other strange bits of information he could only half remember. Those were good things though, they made him feel better, comforted and protected, but there were also bad things, like the searing heat and freezing cold that seemed to be fighting for control inside his body, a strange pounding behind his eyes and a painfully dry throat like he had attempted to swallow part of the Sahara desert. These were the things that made him wake up fully, ripping him away from his comfy cloud of blissful unawareness and returning him to the real world where everything hurt and ached.
"Hey Scout, how you feelin'?" Someone whispered nearby as he attempted to open his eyes but the bright light around him forced them shut again.
"Like crap…" He mumbled, speaking the truth as his throat caught on the words.
"Understandable." The person (John swore he sounded familiar) said as the strange cooling pressure he recognized from before returned to cool his burning skin.
"I had Abe look you over while you were sleeping, he said you had some illness that's been going around lately. Apparently the only way to get rid of it is for your body to sweat it out so you're going to have to stay in bed and drink lots of fluids." The person explained and though he heard the words he couldn't fully comprehend what they meant. John attempted to open his eyes again, looking through the slits and finding a big red blur hovering over him. Hellboy?
"I got you some water…" Hellboy (John was pretty sure it was him) said, leaning away only to return a second later as something thin bumped against his dry lips. He parted them and took in the straw(?), sucking at it as a cool liquid washed into his mouth. The water was heavenly on his throat so he drank until there was nothing left after which the glass was taken away again.
"There you go. Feel any better?" Hellboy asked, John now able to open his eyes fully and see the demon in his non-blurry form.
He nodded. "A little." John said, his throat now enabling him to speak without it hurting too badly.
"Good, I'll be here if you need me, okay?" Hellboy said as he stroked his fingers through his hair. The movement was gentle and John yawned, still tired. "Now go back to sleep kid, you look awful." John nodded, too sleepy to do anything else as he started to drift off to sleep again. The last thought in his head how it was so like Hellboy to make an insult sound affectionate.
Every now and then John woke up and Hellboy was always there for him, be with it with a cup of tea with honey in it for his sore throat (Hellboy even apologized for there not being any cough medicine but informed him that Liz had volunteered to go to the drug store when she heard he was sick), or with a simple glass of water. Sometimes the demon woke him up, either by accident like when he was re-applying the wet cloth on John's forehead or on purpose like when he had given him a spoonful of the recently purchased cough-medicine. Hellboy made absolutely sure he was comfortable and kept him on lots of fluids and through it all John felt like he had the most caring friend in the world, like someone other than his aunt and uncle actually wanted him to get better for once. It was the best he'd felt in a long time, even with the sickness.
The next time he woke up Hellboy made him sit up, several pillows arranged behind his back so it would support him better, as he set a tray with a single bowl of chicken soup on the agent's lap. There must have been some aspirin in that last glass of water he had for this time when John sat up his head didn't hurt as much as he remembered and though he couldn't smell the food in front of him the sight of it didn't make him sick. He might not be back to his full health just yet but at least there were signs that he was getting a little better.
Hellboy sat on the bed beside him, blowing on a spoonful of soup he had scooped up before bringing the liquid to John's lips. The agent hesitated but figured that after everything the demon had already done for him letting the other feed him some soup couldn't really be any worse. He opened his mouth and accepted the food, swallowing the flavoured broth without really tasting it, and let out a breath of relief when his stomach didn't immediately reject the liquid. Hellboy smiled before scooping up some more soup, again blowing on it to cool it down before bringing it to his lips. This process was repeated a couple of times and though John certainly appreciated what the demon was doing for him he couldn't help but feel guilty. Hellboy shouldn't have to do this for him, John was his liaison, not the other way around! The demon didn't have to give up his bed, or make him tea or stay by his side, yet he did and all without asking for anything in return.
He looked at his charge (who didn't even appear bothered by having to take care of the sickened agent even though he must be) as he tried to think of something to say, mouth opening and closing a couple of times
"I'm sorry for being such a burden on you…" John blurted out, hardly realized he'd spoken at all until the words were out in the open. Hellboy looked surprised by the apology, blinking once, twice, before a warm smile slowly bloomed to life on his face. The sight made John's heart skip a beat.
"You're no burden at all Scout." The demon assured him, stone hand which was resting on John's knee giving a gentle squeeze. The agent shook his head, looking down at the almost half empty bowl of chicken soup before glancing up again, meeting the demon's gaze.
"But you're here taking care of me when it's supposed to be my job to take care of you." John protested, feeling like he was somehow taking advantage of the other's kindness. His gaze fell again as his hands clutched at the demon's sheets. It wasn't until Hellboy's normal hand came up to rest on his cheek, thumb lightly brushing the heated skin, that he looked up again.
"And that's why I don't mind doing it." Hellboy said, kind smile only growing larger even as John's look changed to confusion. The agent didn't understand what the demon meant, how could he not mind, practically being forced to take care of someone he had no obligation to?
HB chuckled at the look on John's face, face scrunched up in confusion and deep in thought. The sound caught his liaison's attention as the demon unconsciously stroked his thumb back and forth over the agent's soft skin.
"You're the one always taking care of me so I think it's only fair I return the favour." Hellboy explained and that's when it hit John. His charge wanted to do this for him, not because he felt like he owed John but because he wanted to be on equal footing with him, because he generally appreciated the agent always taking care of him and wanted to do something back. A smile pulled at his lips and this time he didn't try to stop it as he placed his hand over the demon's own, nuzzling against it just a bit.
"Thank you, HB." He whispered, truly meaning it. It had been a long time since someone cared for him and he was glad that Hellboy was slowly starting to fill the void in his chest. It would be nice having a friend again, especially one as caring as his charge.
"You're welcome." Hellboy whispered back as he flipped his hand around and entangled their fingers. The demon offered him a smile and John smiled back, their hands dropping to the sheets as Hellboy picked up the spoon again and held out some more soup to him.
"Now eat your soup before it gets cold and then it's back to bed with you." The demon said, his tone light and joking even though John knew he was being serious. He squeezed the hand in his own and nodded.
"Yes, nurse." He mumbled, chuckling as his lips parted to accept the soup being fed to him as he realized that maybe it wasn't so bad being sick after all.
000 Sick 000
AN2: Poor sick John, at least he had HB there to take care of him. Writing about John being sick reminded me of just about every time I have been sick and even though I don't get sick very often it does hit me hard. On the bright side when you're sick at least you don't have to go to school… wish I didn't have to go to school anymore, this stupid project is killing! Oh well, back to homework, I suppose
~~~Read long and prosper,
Sabaku No Kel~~
