Gabriel shuffled out of bed reluctantly in the morning, his snooze button had been pressed more than it should have, and he was almost guaranteed to be late. He decided to skip his usual morning shower, and instead took the time to actually comb his hair. He made damn sure he put on extra deodorant and some cologne, just to be safe.
He grabbed one of the double chocolate chip muffins he'd baked over the weekend and a bottle of apple juice on his way out the door. His jack russel terrier was still sleeping on the couch, unaffected by Gabriel's frantic morning efforts to leave as soon as possible. Gabriel's feet were slipped inside a pair of shoes, but they were not properly on as he made his way through the hallway and to the back elevator.
Gabriel jumped out of the elevator the moment the doors opened, revealing the third story of the parking garage. He had to rack his brains a bit to remember exactly where he had left his car the day before. He looked around to see if anyone else was present before slipping his keys out of his pocket and pressing the car alarm button. The beeping wasn't far away, much to his relief.
He waddled as quickly as he could to his car, trying not to lose his shoes, wondering why in the hell he didn't put them on properly during the elevator ride down. He unlocked his car using the key fob as he approached, doing everything he could to get to the car quicker. He dropped himself into the driver's seat, placing the apple juice in his cup holder and peeling the double chocolate chip muffin's baking paper cup off as he wiggled and pushed his feet into the shoes. He started his car, leaving his breakfast resting on his left thigh.
He drove from his spot and down and out of the parking garage, discovering that traffic was not as backed up as it could have been. The current construction zones were not occupied by workers yet. He looked at the clock on his radio, and judged that he had roughly 17 minutes to get to work.
When he arrived at work, everything was fine. He was hardly late, it was only three minutes, and his manager wouldn't mind that he was late. Gabriel normally stayed after hours to help clean up anyway.
"You're lucky we haven't hit the morning rush yet," Meg said from her end of the counter, where she was busy slicing bagels in half, readying them for the cascade of people that came in around 7. Gabriel tied his brown and gold apron in the back; it was exactly like every other employee's apron at Noshville Bagels.
"Jeez, I'm hardly even late. When was the last time I was late, anyway?" He pretended to count on his fingers. "It was at least two days ago," he busied himself making sure all of the cream cheese containers were at least 1/4 full and in their proper places. Meg shook her head.
"That was lame, even for you."
"I know. I think I'm having a bit of an off day."
By noon, there were pinpricks crawling across every part of his skin, alternating between too hot and freezing stabs. The beginnings of pain were starting to make themselves at home in every crook of his body, especially around the joints he found himself using most. Gabriel had also started sniffling every few minutes, even though his nose felt rather dry.
The end of his shift rolled around at three, like it always did on work days. Michael hadn't shown up to relieve him, and Gadreel had only relieved Meg two minutes ago. Gabriel couldn't even hold the cream cheese spreader even more, his wrists begged him not to twist them anymore and his fingers were increasingly stiff and numb. He asked Gadreel if he would mind slicing and spreading and ringing up the bagels for customers (only three were in line at the moment).
Gabriel shivered and ducked into the back, tapping the office doorframe, which sent a curious, unwelcome feeling through his hand. "Raphael?"
"Yes?" He opened the door swiftly, his stony face immediately shifting to concern. Gabriel looked awful.
"I'm so sorry that this is such short notice, but I don't think I will be able to come in tomorrow," his words were slightly shaky. The denim of his jeans and the stiff, thin fabric of his shirt felt like sandpaper against his skin.
"No, of course not," Raphael's tone was soft and understanding, a complete 180 from his usual low, authoritative tone. "I can take your place tomorrow, it's no trouble. Meg and I will be fine without you for the day."
"Thank you," Gabriel nodded and walked away, pressure building up in his head and making him a little dizzy as he stepped out of his workplace. He sat in his car, which had heated up from the summer weather. He groaned and started the engine, rolling the windows down.
He hit construction on the way home, ending up towards the back of the line of vehicles waiting for the sign holder to flip the sign from "STOP" to "SLOW." Gabriel tilted his head back onto the headrest, feeling a bit defeated. He quickly realized that that didn't feel very good on his neck; his lymph nodes were swollen and tender. His hands were sweating all over the steering wheel.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be back in his apartment, sprawled on his bed.
The line started moving again, and the sign flipped back to "STOP" just as he reached the front. "Fuck," he swore, irritated and miserable.
"Sorry, pal," the man holding the sign looked at him, some sort of mild sympathy in his expression. He had some of the greenest eyes Gabriel had ever seen, and his whole face was flecked in freckles from long days working under the sun. "You don't look so great."
"Thanks, I didn't shower today," his voice came out dry, and his lips just barely made it into a smile.
"That's not what I mea-"
"I know. I probably look about as shitty as I feel," Gabriel reassured him he wasn't offended. He gave the construction worker the best smile he could muster before reaching to mess with the radio. He let it be on some station playing Jimi Hendrix. A few more minutes passed, but they felt like an eternity because of the awful state of his entire being. The green eyed man finally flipped the sign back to "SLOW" and Gabriel praised the lord above, letting his foot off the brake and gradually accelerating.
The rest of the trip back to his apartment was better, with only a few red lights and no major traffic. It wasn't quite the post workday rush yet.
Gabriel didn't bother grabbing anything from his car besides the keys from the ignition. He locked the car and dragged himself to apartment 7E, another cold sweat spreading over him during the trek. He unlocked the apartment door with reluctant fingers, and decided maybe a little bath wouldn't hurt anything.
He patted his pocket, making sure his phone was still in it, before going into the bathroom.
Gabriel stripped out of his bagel shop scented clothes and draped a towel over the edge of the tub. He sat down and started running the taps, searching for something to watch on his phone while the tub filled.
He lowered himself carefully into the water, letting out jagged puffs of air between his lips at the discomfort of the too-hot water. Gabriel pressed play on the TV show. He couldn't really help but notice how much lint and hair, and to his grossed out surprise, dog hair, was floating around in the water. He hadn't bothered rinsing the tub; how dirty could a bathtub really be from one person's regular showers?
Apparently they could be quite nasty. He locked his phone and set it on the floor next to the tub. Between the cleanliness of the water he was seated in and his inability to find any semblance of solace or comfort, he stood up and pulled the plug. He started the shower and flinched when the streams set to "massage" him pelted him, feeling like a bunch of wasps. Was nothing sacred? He quickly twisted the shower head so a regular, non waspy stream came down on him. He tried to relax in it, but it was difficult.
He tipped his head under the water, wetting down all of his hair. He reached for his shampoo, squeezing some into his hands. Gabriel tried his best to be gentle washing his own head, but no matter how much he tried, he swore he could feel every follicle in the most unpleasant manner possible. He rinsed out the shampoo and decided that was a valiant enough attempt for one day. He used his bare hands with liquid body wash, which still managed to be mildly distressing for his aching body. He was relieved to shut the water off more than any other time he could recall once all the remains of soap were down the drain.
He wrapped himself in a clean towel, patting himself down and drying off completely. He padded back to his room, the central air chill of his apartment creating goosebumps all over his skin again. He closed his bedroom door and pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants, remembering the way his dad taught him to break a fever.
He exited his bedroom one more time, to grab some NyQuil and to refill Ichabark's dog bowl. The dog immediately appeared from out of nowhere to devour the fresh kibble. Gabriel took a dose of the NyQuil, put it back in the medicine cabinet, then returned to his room, shutting the door once more. He spread his blanket across his bed and laid on one edge of the mattress, on top of the blanket, then he grabbed the blanket and rolled himself to the other side, effectively making himself into a fever ridden burrito.
He fell asleep soon enough, thoroughly exhausted.