"Casey? Sorry, Lieutenant?" The door was open, so Brett knocked on the door frame to Casey's quarters. "Hey, hi. Got a sec?"
Casey sighed, rubbed his aching forehead with a thumb and forefinger. Now what? "Need me to come hold him down?"
Startled, Sylvie took a moment to process what Casey meant. "What? Oh, no! No, just…it's…."
"Can't find him?" Casey guessed. "Send Cruz around back…."
"No, no, Casey….listen, I…"
"He seeks solitude, you know that."
Aware she didn't have Casey's full attention, Sylvie quickly said, "Casey, we have him."
"Then why are you bothering me?"
And she snapped. "Because chasing him down, corning him and forcing him to submit should have been your job. I'm exhausted Casey." She flared angrily. "It took an hour to find him, and hey, have you ever tried wrangling a thermometer in his ear?" Her hands flung up and out and up and down and up. "Here's a news flash for you….he doesn't like it!"
"Well yeah," Casey exclaimed with dripping sarcasm, like it was common knowledge and everyone – even a medic only recently assigned to the fire station – should know it.
And Sylvie stood and dumbly stared. She really didn't appreciate everyone knowing everything except her.
"Kinky ex," Casey supplied, waited for her to get it, like it explained everything, except it didn't. "You know….." He suggestively raised an eyebrow, waggled it.
"What?"
"Never mind," Casey shook his head, moved on. "If he gave you a fit, why didn't you just use an oral one?"
Oral one what?
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that. "I don't think we even have one on the ambo."
"Or the one you roll across the forehead?"
One what? Oh! Thermometer. Right. Yes. "We have those, but in my bag, I only carry a…."
Casey stared, eyes hooded from tiredness. "Why are you here, Brett?" She'd been all bubbly earlier, searching him out about Severide running a fever. Why she suspected that, he hadn't asked or cared, just told her to go find him and take his temperature. He knew Severide would brush her off and he'd thought that'd be the end of it.
"Why am….?" She smacked her palm to her forehead. "Oh, right, yes. Well, what do you want me to do? Wait, no…doesn't matter. Chief's here, right? But you said….and Dawson isn't here….she, she's close to him, isn't she? Oh, but wait, not as close as you….and you're here, so…."
"BRETT!" Casey snapped. Sweet as the paramedic was, she tended to ramble.
"Huh? Oh right, right. Yes, Casey, he has a fever of a 103.6."
"And?"
"And he should take himself off duty and go home."
"He'll pop some Tylenol, be fine." It was a dismissal.
Sylvie hopped a bit, threw her hands up, pivoted, stalked off. Casey tossed his pen, rubbed his eyes, pulled out his phone, sent a text to an old buddy.
Casey: 103.6 fever something to worry about?
Mills: Uh, yeah!
Casey: Tylenol's good enough though, right?
Mills: Says who? No.
Casey: Me.
Mills: 103 fever? Go to bed.
Casey: .6
Mills: Headache?
Casey: Severide.
Mills: Irritability?
Casey: Did the phone autocorrect? Severide.
Mills: Push fluids, put him to bed.
Casey: You DO remember who Severide is?
Mills: Probably the flu, just needs rest.
Casey: I give up.
Mills: LOL! Nsaids every 4 hours.
Casey: Was that so hard?
Mills: Keep him down 12 hours or so.
Casey: Now you're talking shit.
Mills: What? Not up to the challenge?
Casey: Too tired.
Mills: Fevers rise at night, tepid shower.
Casey: Sure, sure. Right. That'll go well.
Mills: Still 103 after 12 hours, take him to Med.
Casey: .6
Mills: Gotta love Brett.
Casey: Thanks Mills.
Mills: Always got your back.
Casey smiled, set his phone aside. Damn, he missed that guy.
He had just stood up when his phone dinged with another text.
Mills: Beer is NOT an acceptable fluid.
He grinned broadly as he strode down the hallway. Really missed that guy!
"Brett, stop." He heard Severide scold the paramedic irritably. "Just stop, I feel fine."
"And I'm sure you are, but Severide, if you won't go home, you should lie down, get some rest while it's quiet."
"I'm not tired."
"You have a fever of a 103.6!"
"Cause I'm hot blooded." Severide teased. "Check it and see…." He waited for her to finish the line with 'I've got a fever of a hundred and three' but all she did was glare. "Brett, really, I'm….."
Matt entered the room clapping his hands. "Severide! Stop giving the new guy a hard time."
Sylvie turned on Casey quicker than he expected her to move, bristling over being referred to as a 'guy', but before she could even utter a word, Casey moved right past her, snagged a bottle of water off a table.
"Time for Tylenol, fluids, bed."
"The hell?" Severide sputtered, glared at Brett. "You ran to Casey?" His eyes were red and dry, cheeks, despite a day's growth, flushed. Casey reached out to touch his forehead.
"Wait," Sylvie started.
"Did you seriously just do that?" Severide slapped Casey's hand away. "The hell?"
"You're the one who let her take your temperature."
"Let her? Let her?" Severide repeated incredulously. "Let her? I didn't let her Casey. She jumped on my back and stuck a thermometer in my ear!"
"She weighs what, 100 lbs soaking wet, shake her loose!…yeah, you let her!"
Severide ducked his chin, "She's got some thigh muscles." He conceded.
"Horseback riding." Sylvie chimed in. "Hey, wait…."
Casey thought about it. Getting someone off your back without violence – such as ramming them into a wall or gut punching them with an elbow – wasn't easy and Severide, no matter how irritated or how much he disliked something, would never hit a woman unless his life was in danger.
"Okay," Casey waggled the bottle of water in his friend's face until he took it. "Brett, any…" He took the bottle of Tylenol she waggled in his face. Sure was a lot of waggling going on. "Thanks." He shook out six, returned two at her gasp, sighed at her huff and three remained in his palm.
"I don't need….."
"You do."
Severide twisted the lid, gulped some water, but didn't reach for the three tablets in Casey's outstretched palm.
"Take them Severide."
"Don't need them."
"It's Tylenol."
"I don't….."
"I get your reluctance taking meds, I do, but get your fever down, you'll feel better, not so tired," Casey waited. "Meds and water."
Severide stared, drank more water, rolled the bottle across his forehead, wished it was colder. A gesture and face Casey didn't miss.
"Okay, meds, shower, bed." Casey ordered. "I'll send someone out for Gatorade."
"I have to write up that report for….."
"You're going to bed Kelly."
"Says who Matt?" He shot back.
Sylvie's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. First names? Wow!
"Mills."
The tension eased from Severide and he nodded, scooped the pills out of Casey's palm, popped them in his mouth and swallowed them with the last of the water.
"Shower. Tepid water." Casey cautioned.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Sylvie stomped a foot.
"Did she just stomp a foot at us?" Severide quirked an eyebrow at Casey.
"She did."
"You called Peter?" Sylvie poked a finger in Casey's chest.
"You said he had a 103.6 fever."
"You didn't seem to care."
Affronted, Casey puffed up in exaggerated, pretended, indignation. "Of course I care! I called Mills, didn't I?" He grinned over her head at Severide who rolled his eyes. "I mean, 103.6 Brett!"
"He does. You did. And I could have told you what to do!" She completely missed they were teasing her. "You both need to take this seriously!"
"I don't need anyone to tell me what to do." Casey said soothingly. "My training, you know?" He was taking it seriously. He'd texted Mills and was now here doing his bidding. Even without confirmation from Mills, he knew a fever over 101 shouldn't be ignored. There was no injury, so the fever wasn't a result of an infection….it was the flu or a bad cold and Mills was right; fluids, meds and rest was the best treatment.
"Then why did you call Peter Mills?"
Casey looked confused, as though she should know the answer. "Cauuuuse…he's Mills."
"So, what, you'll listen to him, and not me?" She whirled on Severide, who, only wanting to crawl into his bunk, was slow to duck. He rubbed the spot on his shoulder she repeatedly poked. "You run away from me over a thermometer and Peter, thousands of miles away, says to take some Tylenol and go to bed and you do?"
Casey gave Severide's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll tell Boden you're down for the rest of shift."
"Wait, what?" Sylvie all but screeched when Severide nodded his silent agreement. "What? Just like that? I tell you, you should go home and rest and you insist you're fine. HE!," she pointed to Casey, "tells you to take a shower and drink some water and you're off shift and you're all….oh, sure Casey, whatever you say?"
"She's shrill." Severide told Casey. "She sound shrill to you?"
"Must be your fever."
"My ears aren't ringing."
"So, blue Gatorade?"
"White."
Hands on hips, Sylvie watched the two leave together, separating to head in different directions at the end of the hall – Severide to the locker room, Casey to the kitchen.
"Oooohhhh! MEN!"
Kelly was enjoying his hot shower, just standing facing the wall while the hot water jetted over his shoulders and down his back. His head was throbbing and the lure of a comfy bunk in dark silence, was too strong to deny. He was headed directly there when he got out.
The water went cold – ice cold.
"ArrGhRRhhh!" He yelped jumping, nearly slipping and only saving his ass from a severe bruising by bracing his hands on opposite walls. "The hell?" He caught a glimpse of a watch on a retreating arm. "CASEY?! YOU DICK!"
"Tepid." Casey called easily.
"Yeah! Not icy!"
"Don't stay in there much longer."
"Not likely." He muttered. It occurred to him he could turn the hot water back on, but figured Casey was seated on a bench just outside the showers and would see the steam, so turned around a time or two more under the stream of water and shut the spigot off.
"You got something to sleep in?" Casey tossed him a towel.
"What's it matter?" So he'd been right, Casey had been waiting for him.
Though they worked 24-hour shifts, the times they were able to catch some sleep on their bunks, they remained fully-clothed in uniform, sans boots and coats of course. So likely, the only other clothes Severide had to change into, were jeans and a leather jacket.
"Aah, you've met Brett, right? She doesn't give up easily and she never goes away." Casey teased. "You think she's just gonna let you go to bed, get some sleep without her popping in on you every half hour?"
"She's seen naked men before."
"Believe it or not, and I can't believe I'm saying this….and to my knowledge…not you."
"If I'm being sent to bed like I'm five, I'll crawl under the blankets, how's that?"
"And if your fever takes hold and you flail about?"
"I have clean boxer briefs Casey," Severide said dryly. "You know how many times we shower while on duty." Dried off, he knotted the towel around his waist, decided against hair gel since he was going to bed, padded barefoot to his locker.
He was tossed a clean t-shirt which he donned without further comment even though the shirt belonged to Casey.
"How you feeling?"
"I'm good."
"Sev."
Kelly tensed, sighed. Casey knew him too well. "Head hurts, tired."
"No injury I don't know about? Something that could be infected?"
"Uh." He winced, forehead furrowed as he thought back over the hours on last shift. "No."
"Okay," Casey let it go. He'd gotten his way, so while Severide dressed, he'd go talk to Boden. "Get dressed, go to bed." He was flipped off as he walked away. "I saw that."
Chief Boden was immersed in paperwork when the perky, blonde chatterbox knocked on his closed door and smiling happily, waved frantically through the glass.
"Come in." He motioned her in. "What can I do for you?"
When Casey approached his Chief's office, he saw Brett had made herself at home in a chair in front of Boden's desk.
"Chief." Casey greeted when he was also waved in. "Brett."
"Brett here was telling me Severide has a 103.6 fever and has agreed to go to bed." Boden boomed without a greeting. "This some kind of joke?"
"No, sir, it's not. She's right." And boy, she wasn't letting that '.6' go.
"This is Kelly we're talking about?"
"It is."
"He…went to bed?"
"He's on his way."
"Mmmm."
"I told him to go home." Sylvie said. "But…."
Still looking at Casey in disbelief, Boden waved her silent. "Kelly Severide copped to being sick, willingly went to bed? Cruz and Capp didn't bodily carry him there, tie him to it?"
"No Chief."
"Blue eyes, dark hair, slight build. That Kelly Severide?" He mused. Both Casey and Brett nodded. "Huh."
"He needs to go home…." Sylvie began again.
Astonished, Boden asked Casey, "How'd you manage that?"
"Had some back-up." Casey explained.
"He doesn't listen…."
"Mills."
Chief nodded and Sylvie fumed. She knew Peter Mills and he didn't have any magical touch where the men of Station 51 were concerned.
"Brett, it's late, we're all tired. He went to bed, all's good." Boden told her.
"Home is where….."
"We can keep any eye on him here." Boden explained. "His roommates are here, so he'd be home alone and he's Severide, so….."
"But Chief, if he has the flu, there could be an outbreak….."
"What better place to have one? Eh?"
"Well," Casey hedged. "It is Severide, so….I doubt he'd be alone, he went home."
"You think that's a good idea?" Boden joked.
"I'll get him some Gatorade." Casey said. "Mills doesn't think the intake of beer is acceptable."
"Uh, no!" Sylvie exclaimed. "With a fever that high, he's likely to dehydrate. Alcohol would…."
"Brett," Boden held a hand up to silence her tirade. "We know."
"You're teasing me." Sylvie stated. "Would you take this seriously?"
"Brett, what do you want from me?" Casey asked impatiently. "He's taking meds, drinking fluids," he made air quotes for sarcasm, "Took a 'tepid' shower, went to bed. Other than sending him home, what else would you have me do?"
She opened her mouth to respond, realized she didn't know how to answer that question, snapped her jaw closed.
Mouch knocked on the window, held up a bottle of Gatorade in each hand; one white, one orange.
"Why would he bring them to you?" Sylvie asked. "How would he even know you wanted it?"
"He brought them here because he didn't find Severide in his bunk." Boden pushed back his chair, rose to his feet. "Do I need to take care of this?"
Casey shrugged, "You think you'll have better luck?"
Boden sat back down. "No." Casey had gotten this far with a bit of long-distance help from Mills. There was nothing more he could do that his truck Lieutenant couldn't. "Carry on."
Caring the bottles of Gatorade, Casey returned to the locker room, Brett on his heels, but other than a wet towel, it was empty….as was Severide's quarters. A quick check of the kitchen and common room failed to produce him as well. Squad table – nada.
"I'll check the equipment room." Sylvie veered off and Casey continued to his quarters next to Severide's…..a room of glass in the corner on the bunk room.
"Lieutenant." Herrman sprawled on his back on his bunk, tipped an imaginary hat as Casey walked by.
"Don't suppose you've laid eyes on Sever….." He stopped in his doorway and stared, looked over his shoulder at Herrman, jutted a hip out in annoyance. "My bunk? Really?"
"Figured you wanted to keep an eye on him."
"We can all see his bunk from every direction of this room." He rapped his knuckles against the glass block that made up the walls of his office. "Blinds are up."
Herrman grinned, came up on an elbow. "He came looking for you because he wanted some Gatorade, told him he'd have better luck finding it in the kitchen, next time I look in, he's flat on his back."
Casey threw his hands up, liquid sloshed in the bottles. "Least he has clothes on." Boxer briefs and a t-shirt did indeed serve as clothes. He entered the small room, nudged a bare foot with a bottle of Gatorade. "Hiding from Brett? She's not far behind me."
"…thirsty…."
"Yeah well, buddy, this ain't the kitchen." Casey juggled both bottles into one palm, used his free hand to grab the one Severide extended, helped him sit up. "White or orange?"
"White."
Casey cracked the seal, screwed the lid off, handed Severide the bottle of white Gatorade who took it and gulped it down until Casey stopped him.
"Whoa, easy there." Glassy eyes, red cheeks, dried lips just looked at him. "Just slow down."
"….said…told you," he tipped the bottle, sipped some more. "I…was thirsty."
Yeah, yeah he had. Casey couldn't yell at him for that.
"Here you are!" Brett sang, dancing and ducking in an attempt to see around Casey, get past him. "Let's get you to bed before a call comes in."
"Here he is." Casey grinned at Severide's irritation who decided the best way to shed unwanted attention, was to do what she wanted, stood up.
"Whatever."
To the complete and utter astonishment of both Casey and Herrman, Severide took the orange bottle of Gatorade from Casey and obediently followed Brett who led him the short distance to his office, chattering about chills and sweating….he felt warm, his skin dry, any aches? Did he have muscle pain, socks?
"Brett, stop touching. Get your hands off me."
"Don't gulp that down. Didn't you just have one? Wait, oh say….."
"Socks?" Casey raised an eyebrow at Herrman who shrugged.
"She has some odd notions." Herrman commented. "He must feel awful."
A compliant and obedient Severide? Yeah, he must feel like shit, indeed. And since he was acting completely out-of-character, just watch, all hell would break loose.
The alert signal blared.
