Chapter 2: Sluggish
John was blasting as cold of an air though the car ventilation system as was possible despite his goosebumps and Joe's half-hearted protests, but by now the older man had figured out that his normally pain in the butt ex colleague was running some astronomically high fever that needed kept in check and John assumed the cold air would also stop Joe being sick in his car again. Making it up to the apartment from the parking lot was time-consuming and taxing, peppered with frequent stops to allow Joe to lean on walls and random fences, or steady himself by putting his palms on his knees if no other support was available. John alternated between being annoyed at the waste of his precious time or bewilderment at himself for having volunteered himself for the job and occasionally there was some concern for the younger man. He had driven the northerner home once before when fairly incapacitated, from the precinct, under completely different circumstances after he just had Joe beaten up on Nathan's initiative to establish boundaries. They had been at loggerheads back then, yet no good came out of the pounding, including some lingering guilt he felt for the ruthless act. Joe had stayed resolute like he always was, marching away with his head held high, which made the current situation even more concerning. He could walk beaten up to a pulp and with bruised ribs and now he looked really poorly just having to manoeuvre himself through the garage, audience and showing weakness be damned. "What happened to you?" John blurted out. "Have you seen a doctor about this?"
Joe shook his head, taking another break on the hallway. He searched in his pockets for the keys to the apartment, as if stopping for that, but his shaking hands dropped the item. "It only started the night before."
"Don't! Don't." The balding man steadied the other, seeing how dangerously close Joe came to faceplanting as he unsteadily tried to bend over for the keys. "I'll get it." John assured, waiting with breaking eye contact till his replacement at the company showed some recognition and understanding of his intentions. The boy was disoriented badly, not very surprising given his temperature. "I'm running you a cold bath," the convict decided as he grabbed onto Joe's arm to direct him inside the apartment purposefully. When he came back from the bathroom, he found the current Cardiff executive plopped down on his bed, spread out, motionless and comatose. "Hey! You need to cool down first," he took to pulling the young man's shoes and socks off, then sat down beside him to pat his cheeks, noting the dry skin burning his fingers. Could've been used as a radiator. "Joe. You need to get up or I need to call the paramedics cause sure as hell I'm not about to wash you down by hand." Shaking his head in displeasure, he went to the refrigerator and retrieved a few blocks of ice and wrapped them in a kitchen towel, then raised Joe's head a little so he could place the cold item at the back of the ailing man's neck.
Joe groaned, but weakly and it took another few pats to his cheek before he acknowledged that he was hailed. "I'm fine, dad. I don't need more painkillers." He mumbled.
John withdrew, taken aback. "I'm just about old enough to be your dad, that's true, but I'm actually the poor idiot who you managed to oust and land in jail."
The younger man blinked up at him blearily at that. "John."
"I'm glad that definition hits the spot," the helping businessman said sarcastically, "can you get up?"
"You didn't need to punch Kenny," Joe declared on a surprisingly lucid voice, ignoring the question completely, though the glassiness of his eyes was telling of fever.
"The slimy bastard had been irritating me for years, I was in essence looking for an excuse, so don't flatter yourself." John shrugged the idea off, "it felt good at any case. Now come, get up," he grabbed the other by the arm, trying to encourage him to move.
The sick man didn't budge, neither physically, or off the topic, "not a good excuse. I am queer, you know."
"No, I don't know," John huffed. The night was getting weirder by the minute, but at least he'd managed to cajole Joe into a sitting position. "And I'll seriously eat my hat if Cameron's a man cause she'd pulled that off real good."
"Cameronsexual," the reluctant Northener swayed woozily with a nauseous expression on his face, "I am Cameronsexual besides being queer."
"Horses for courses, as they say," the smaller man succeeded in pulling the bulkier form onto his feet. He steadied Joe by holding him around his waist, but it took all his might to make the few steps to the thankfully cooler tiles of the bathroom. He was getting sweaty and uncomfortably warm himself with the effort and the closeness to the other's sweltering body. And then instead of Joe's sexual orientation, he had to worry about not having him drop head first onto the hard floor as he seemingly intended. "I need you to concentrate. Hold onto the side of the bath," he let Joe lean down so he could tug the damp, sweat marked pants off him. "We can forget about taking off the rest of your clothes. It might in fact be beneficial if they get wet. Any chance you can climb in?"
"I am capable of taking care of myself," Joe found his arrogance at the right moment and turned somewhat haphazardly, but successfully to land in the half full tub on his hands and knees. John winced, it must've hurt, but at least it wasn't a forehead that connected with the compact enamel. The younger man however, was focussed on the stark temperature change. Although the water was set to comfortably and not ice cold, Joe hissed, his muscles going rigid before his whole body began shaking violently.
"It's better if you sit down. Give it a few minutes, you will feel better, you'll see," the older man promised.
Joe glared round, seemingly more alert than just seconds before. His movements were still sluggish and uncoordinated, but at least he understood the need to comply, enough to let himself down to lie on his side, yelping and groaning all the while with an occasional curse word in between. "Good. Good. Are you good?" John checked. "I will get some dry clothes out for you."
The sick man shook his head. All this movement made his dizziness worse and the cold water shocked his system into wanting to puke. Only there was no way he could get out the bath to the toilet bowl. So he promptly threw up in front of himself into the bathwater. "Oh god. I can let that water down and let clean in. You will still keep cold in the meantime, so that's good." His ex boss was trying to convince himself he was in any control over the situation. How did he let himself in this predicament and how worried should he be if the unwell individual in point of fact could be considered his rival, challenger and foe?
Tbc
