AN: Happy update Wednesday! The next two chapters were really fun to write so I hope you enjoy them.
Once again, thank you to everyone who left reviews. Your support fans the flame that keeps me warm during these cold Wuhan nights.
Chapter 12
Jack entered the pavilion for breakfast, stretching. Chase, as per usual, had beaten him there but there was an odd addition that Jack hadn't expected in the least; a sleek MacBook was open in front of the warlord and he was typing away. The whole situation was absolutely baffling to Jack.
"You own a laptop?"
"It is the 21st center," Chase addressed him, "And I have business to attend to."
"Business?" Jack questioned curiously, taking a seat at the table, "What kind of business?"
"My business, Spicer."
"Ugh, fine." Jack pouted. Chase watched as Jack fiddled with his phone moodily. After a minute of silence, he sighed, shutting his laptop.
"If you must know," Chase said, "I invested my wealth into companies worth my while around a decade ago. Now I monitor the stocks and move my money accordingly. If I like a company, it does well. If I don't like a company, I make it disappear. I make it my business to know the inner workings of modern China."
"So that's how you live," Jack said, awed, "I always wondered how you managed to upkeep that citadel." Chase smirked at Jack's transparent admiration, ego fully stroked.
Kimiko and Raimundo arrived next.
"Morning, Jack, Chase," Kimiko greeted, taking a seat.
Raimundo plopped down at the table with a yawn, raking his fingers through his hair.
"It's too early to talk…" He muttered. Jack blinked.
"It's 10:30 AM."
"Good. I love Saturdays."
Clay and Omi came in carrying plates. An amazing aroma filled the air. Immediately, Jack couldn't have agreed with Raimundo more; Saturdays were the best. Clay set down a big plate of bacon and eggs then a bowl of muffins with red and blue stained bursts.
"Good morning, y'all! For brunch today we have all the classics with all the fixin's," He gestured to Omi's platter which had butter, various jams, a bottle of ketchup, and a bottle of hot sauce. Omi placed it on the table with a grin.
-oOo-
"Ow! Shit!" Jack bent double, holding his hand tightly. One of the blades he and Kimiko had been sparring with had nicked him. Kimiko hurried over to him as the others paused in their own sparring matches.
"Jack! Are you okay?" Kimiko went to him, worry in her eyes, "I'm so sorry!"
"Leave him, I'm sure he's fine!" Raimundo called after her. He couldn't help but grit his teeth at the pang of jealousy in his stomach. Why was she so concerned about him?
"Raimundo's right; it's all good." Jack said with a wince. He pulled his hand out to examine the gash in his palm. It stung painfully, blood smeared across his hand.
"Spicer! Are you alright?" Chase barked at Jack from the opposite side of the courtyard, his Tai-Chi practice coming to an unpleasant halt.
"I'm fine, it's fine!" Jack waved his hands to show he was. This didn't have the intended effect, however, as blood ran down his arm. Chase frowned, approaching quickly, something hiccuping in his chest. He grabbed Jack's wrist and brought it closer so he could examine the wound.
"Stop squirming," He ordered and Jack froze obediently, shivering, "It's rather deep."
"Yeah, no shit!" He grumbled, wrenching his arm away from Chase who scowled. Then he blinked in surprise.
"Spicer… Your hand."
"Of course, my hand, Chase, jeez-"
"No, look." He grabbed Jack's hand forcibly, holding it so the palm was facing the sky.
The blood was moving. It rose from the gash in long streams, stretching up. Omi openly gaped.
"How are you doing that?" He exclaimed in awe.
"Of course…" Chase muttered, "Iron."
"You mean Jack here can manipulate the iron in his blood?" Clay gawked, "That's cooler than a glass of my Aunt Jenny's lemonade!"
"So I can make my blood do stuff? Bitchin'! Let's see…" Jack narrowed his eyes in concentration. The blood streams curled, forming intricate swirls. It moved like a river around his hand and in-between his fingers.
"That is kinda cool…" Raimundo mumbled, also moving closer, placing himself strategically between Jack and Kimiko. There. Now he felt better.
"I want you to try something," Chase urged quietly, "Try to draw it back to you."
Jack nodded and focused, curling his palm into a fist. The blood rushed back through his fingers. When he unfurled his fist again, the blood was gone, retreated back under his skin, only the gash remaining.
"You may want to doctor that, Spicer. Just because you can manipulate blood doesn't mean you can stitch your skin back together."
"Well, wait, I wanna try something else." Jack stepped away from the group. Chase narrowed his eyes.
"Spicer, wait." He warned.
"Relax, Chase, I've got this!" Holding his palm out, which was beginning to drip again, he summoned all his focus. The blood extended and solidified into a long crimson cord. Jack whipped it this way and that, spinning it around and around. Slamming his hand down on the ground, the blood whip cracked the ground beneath it, bits of stone flying.
"Spicer, that's enough!" Chase's hand gripped his wrist again and this time, Jack was glad he had; his head felt incredibly light, like a balloon had inflated in the back of his skull. He turned to look at Chase, to express how freaking cool it was that he could make a whip out of his own blood when the world lurched. Down he went, knees buckling beneath him. "Spicer!"
Jack heard the cries of the other monks, Kimiko cursing profusely. They sounded so very far away. Through half-lidded eyes, he gazed up at Chase, his body draped across his lap. Chase looked concerned, Jack thought. Must be a dream. He'd never seen Chase concerned before… Wow, the man had pretty eyes. Reptilian slits set in molten gold. They shimmered and shone. Damn, he could drown in them for hours…
Black prickled at the edges of his vision. Before he faded out, he heard Chase as if through a tunnel.
"You little idiot."
-oOo-
It was unlike Jack to miss breakfast.
"If you would excuse me," Chase said politely, setting down his teacup. As he turned to leave the table, he paused, "By the way, the tea is orange spice." He left the pavilion, the monks groaning. They were never going to beat him.
Chase strode down the hall, arriving quickly at Jack's bunk. He pulled back the curtain to find a pitiful sight. Jack was sprawled across his mat, the blanket discarded, his red hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and worry rose rapidly in Chase's chest. He kneeled, giving the bandaged palm a cursory go-over. Good, it wasn't infected. He sighed in relief. Then he smoothed Jack's hair back, keeping his palm on his forehead, frowning. He was extremely warm. Definitely a fever.
Chase couldn't just leave him here; he didn't trust anyone else at this temple to take care of the young man properly. No, he'd have to do that himself. Cursing under his breath, he slipped one arm under Jack's knees and the other around his shoulders, lifting him up. Tucking him carefully against his chest, he stood, carrying Jack from the bunk to his own room. Carefully, he lowered him onto the bed.
As he pulled the blanket over him, Jack stirred.
"No…" He moaned, voice hoarse from sleep, trying to push the blanket back off him, "Too hot…!"
"Don't fight me, Spicer," Chase said gruffly, keeping the blanket around Jack's shaking form, "You don't need to be cold." At Chase's voice, Jack seemed to frown weakly, brow crinkling.
"Chase…?"
"I'll be back."
-oOo-
Jack was struggling to make sense of the world around him. He shivered miserably, curling up on his side. The heat seemed to come in waves, periods of chills in-between that made his toes curl and skin crawl. He kicked his blanket off, panting softly.
His sweaty hair was being swept back off his forehead, a warm hand pressing against his skin. A whimper escaped his trembling lips. When was the last time he'd been touched so gently? He knew he couldn't remember. Maybe once upon a time when he was so young… But not often. And certainly not recently. He used every ounce of strength to lean into the touch but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes; they were too heavy. He felt his body leave the ground, his aching head against a shoulder. Someone was carrying him, walking.
When he was set down in a much softer bed and covers were pulled up around him, he couldn't help but protest. Couldn't they see it was way too hot for that? Couldn't they feel the unquenchable heat?
"Don't fight me, Spicer," He paused in his struggling; that was Chase's voice, a growl wrapped in silk, "You don't need to be cold."
"Chase…?" Wow, he sounded weak.
"I'll be back," And he was. Something cool and damp was pressed to Jack's forehead and he groaned in relief, "You're a wreck, Spicer. Honestly."
"Feels good…" He slurred.
"I imagine so," Chase said cooly, "You are running a fever of 102.5."
"Ouch…" Jack murmured, finally managing to open his eyes. Chase was sitting on the edge of the bed, scowling. How did he do that? Somehow the man was deliciously handsome even when angry. After living with the man for the last few weeks, he found Chase's anger less and less scary.
"Stop smiling like a loon," Chase growled, "With that silly, little stunt you pulled yesterday, you're lucky you only have a cold and a fever. I have half a mind to ban you from metal manipulation altogether."
"Aw, Chase," Jack groaned, trying to sit up, "I was… Fine…!" His strength failed him and he collapsed back down against the pillow- Chase's pillow.
"Fine? You expounded roughly a liter of blood from your body, you idiot," Chase's voice rose angrily, "You almost killed yourself with your foolishness! Don't you ever, ever disobey my direct orders again! Unless you want a premature death, then be my guest!"
Jack blamed his fever for what came out of his mouth next. Chase's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the slow smile.
"Awww, you care about meee…" Chase blinked as Jack pulled the blanket up under his chin, grinning weakly, "You were worried…!"
"You are an idiot, Spicer," Chase ground out before standing, "Rest. I will wake you for lunch." And then he left, fleeing the scene before Jack could make any more obvious statements.
Outside his room, Chase took deep breaths. Of course, he cared. How could he not? Somehow the little worm had wormed his way into Chase's heart, burrowing deeply and making himself comfortable. He wasn't sure whether to be angry about it or not.
-oOo-
Long cords of blood wound their way around Jack's ankles, climbing up his legs. He tried to step away. No such luck. He fell, clawing at the ground, feeling a red hot sting as the cords tightened around his waist.
"No, wait! Please!" His voice cracked in fear. Sliding up and up, the cords tugged him back towards the gaping hole in the ground, a well. A deep, dark well. Panic coursed through Jack's veins and he started to scream for anyone, anyone at all. But he knew no one would come.
No one ever came.
On the edge. The cords tightened around his throat and wrists. They plunged down his throat and he choked, gurgling up crimson globs as he tumbled backwards into the well. Head over heels. Again and again and again, deep down into the inky black depths…
"Spicer!… Spicer!"
Was that Chase? Jack shivered in the cold, murky water and coughed.
"Chase…?" His voice echoed.
"That's it, Spicer… Wake up."
Jack opened his eyes blearily. The water and stone walls swam before his eyes but he could see a dark figure beside him.
"Chase…? What are you doing in the well?" Wow, his voice was weak.
"It's only a dream."
"You need to leave," Jack tried to make him see, "They'll hurt you…"
"What will hurt me?"
"The cords…"
"The cords?"
"Mmhm…" He shivered, "'m cold…"
"That'd be the fever."
"Nooo… It's the water… S-so cold…" Chase let out a quiet huff. Suddenly Jack was much warmer, pressure on all sides. Something was wrapped around him. He freaked. "Chase! Chase, they g-got me! I can't g-get loose! I can't-!"
"Ssshhh…" Chase's soft voice was in Jack's ear, his hand smoothing down the hair on the nape of his neck, "Nothing's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here. I promise."
The world faded again as Jack fell asleep to the lullaby of his voice.
-oOo-
Jack phased in and out of sleep for the next few days, not remembering much. Chase was a constant. The man would wake him, help him sit up, make sure he ate something and drank water. It was always hot water but hey, he wasn't about to complain. Chase Young was taking care of him and that fact alone was enough to make him want to stay sick forever. Kimiko and Omi both dropped in at different points. They held soft conversations with Jack, gentle things that he couldn't quite remember but left him feeling warm around the edges. All in all, he was extremely grateful.
His fever broke around 2 PM on Thursday (his third day in bed), the mind fog draining out as he woke sweating but not chilled. Carefully, he sat up, brushing his greasy hair out of his face with a grimace.
"I see you are up," Jack looked up to see Chase standing there. He placed the back of his hand against Jack's forehead, causing a raging blush to shoot up in his cheeks, "Your fever broke. How are you feeling?"
"Better," Jack admitted, his voice much stronger than it had be, "Like I could actually do something."
"Hm…" Chase removed his hand, assessing Jack's condition, "I'd suggest something simple to start with. Like a shower."
"Ugh, yes please." He moaned, tossing the covers aside and placing his feet on the floor.
"Best make it a bath. I don't need you passing out in the shower and injuring yourself."
"I can take care of myself, you know."
"I'll believe it when I see it, Spicer."
"Um… Are you still mad at me? For the blood manipulation thingy?"
Chase looked over Jack, at his pale fingers fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie, at the bowed head. He frowned. Was he still angry? Definitely. But he couldn't have the young man skirting nervously around him if he ever wanted… Well. If Chase wanted Jack close by. And he did. Badly.
"Not quite."
And Chase was rewarded with a blinding smile that made his heart roll over in his chest.
-oOo-
AN: I'm such a slut for a warm and fuzzy sick-scene. Next update will be posted on December 26. Merry Christmas, y'all! (Or Happy Holidays, depending on your religious affiliation or lack thereof.)
