"Chas…hey, Chas."
Chas groaned, feeling nothing but pain for a few moments. Every joint in his body was stiff from sleeping on hard flooring. He slowly pushed himself up, his body complaining with every movement.
"Wake up, asshole," John ordered, and Chas nodded.
"I'm awake, I'm awake. Hang on," he said, stretching and rubbing his elbows, wrists, and neck.
If only you had enough money for a damn air mattress.
He stood up, looking over at the bed to find John already sitting up against the headboard, looking fairly annoying. He glanced at the clock; it read 5am.
"About time. I've been hungry for half an hour," John muttered. Chas nodded sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Anything but hospital food. And how about some whiskey?"
"John, you know the doctor said-"
"I don't give a damn what the doctor said, I'm in fuckin' pain and I need some whiskey."
John's tone was so threatening that Chas didn't dare complain. He shuffled off to the kitchen, burning himself twice in his feeble attempts at making bacon and eggs. He filled a glass halfway with whiskey and the rest of the way with water, figuring that a little watered-down alcohol couldn't hurt that much.
He gathered John's medications and the tray of food and took it back into the bedroom, where John was waiting impatiently. He set down the tray on John's lap, and began separating out the pills he needed to take.
"You burned them," John complained, poking at the eggs. Chas muttered a 'sorry', putting the pills down on the tray.
Chas folded up the blankets that he'd used and put them away as John finished eating, and he made sure to watch as John took the pills to be sure he took them all.
"You need anything else?" Chas asked through a yawn.
"Bathroom."
Chas inwardly groaned. This was never an easy task, but they managed it, as always. It was time for John's bath anyway, and they decided to just do both.
Chas started the warm water flowing, getting it to the temperature he knew John wouldn't mind- John liked it hot, almost too hot to be comfortable.
Chas helped him strip down, used to averting his gaze to avoid embarrassment by now, checking the stitches on all the wounds before helping John sit down in the tub.
They were always silent at these moments. Chas had been helping John bathe since three days after the accident, every other day, sometimes every day. At first it had been uncomfortable and embarrassing for both involved, but after a while it just became a task of silence and comfort. Due to a wound on the back of his shoulder John couldn't reach up to wash his torso or hair, so it became a kind of therapeutic task for John.
Chas spent a few minutes dutifully washing John's hair, massaging his scalp, working in the shampoo and conditioner as carefully as he would re-bandage the wounds.
"How're you feeling?" Chas asked, softly, breaking the silence.
"Fucking duh, it hurts."
"How much?"
John shrugged, shifting, the sounds of rippling water the only other sound in the apartment. "Not that much."
"Liar."
"Well, it hurts less than before."
"Now that I'll believe."
Chas gently scrubbed John's back with soap, trying anything to keep his mind off his own problems. He didn't want to think about UCLA, didn't want to think about the debt he was in, didn't want to think of how easily John had pulled up the money to pay the extensive hospital bills…
No. Definitely didn't want to think about that.
Instead, Chas looked down at John, for once letting his eyes rove over the man's body. He was sitting behind John, the exorcist couldn't see him, so why not?
The subtly defined muscles, the pale yet flawless skin…most definitely gifted where it really mattered…Chas couldn't help himself, really. He'd always had a fascination with John, and had only just begun to realize recently how deep-seated the fascination was. A crush. It didn't really surprise him, even though the bitterness at knowing nothing could come of it was still there.
He shoved the uncomfortable thoughts aside and finished and helped John dry off and get back into pajamas, and then he wheeled the exhausted man back to his room and got him into bed.
"Anything else?"
"Why are you actin' so weird?"
Chas stuttered for a few moments, and then he pretended to be clueless. "I'm not actin' weird."
John snorted. "Usually I can't shut you up. Now you're actin' like a damn mute, 'cept for askin' me if I need anything."
"I'm just tired."
"Right," John said, letting it drop. Chas was almost disappointed; a part of him wanted to tell John everything, wanted some comfort, but he wasn't about to dump all that shit on John when he was injured like this.
There was a knock at the door, and Chas made sure John was okay, and then he closed off the bedroom and answered it. Midnite stood there, and he gave Chas a curious look.
"I heard John was home."
Chas nodded. "Home, but not takin' visitors or anything."
"He has a few relics he promised me."
Chas almost snorted, but managed to keep his amusement to himself. Way to worry about a friend's health.
"I'll talk to him, find out if he has them here," Chas said, opening the door wider. "You want anything? A drink?"
"Vodka sounds fine, thank you."
Chas slipped into the bedroom, being sure to keep Midnite's view of John blocked. He paused momentarily, a dizzy spell making him unsteady on his feet for a few moments. He shook it off before John noticed, though.
"Midnite's here," he said softly.
"Yeah, well, tell him to beat it."
"And get my soul strangled? I think not," Chas said, standing at the foot of the bed. "He says you have some relics for him…?"
John nodded, coughed lightly. "In the cabinet, third shelf. Brown box with a black "X" on the side."
Chas nodded, slipping out of the room. Midnite was sitting at the table, and Chas silently poured him a glass of vodka, feeling a headache coming on. The dizziness wasn't going away now.
"He has the relics?"
"Yes, sir," Chas said, shuffling over to the cabinet and pulling the box down. "He said everything would be…in…"
Chas paused, reaching up and putting his hand to his head, trying to steady the room. "In here."
Midnite raised an eyebrow, taking a drink of the vodka. "You seem ill."
"Just tired."
"Understandable. John is a bitch when he's in pain."
Chas looked up at Midnite. "Lucky guess."
"No. I had to take care of him after a demon almost ripped his leg off."
Chas sat down and leaned forward. "Really?"
Midnite nodded. "He'll drive you into the ground, kid. And don't expect a thank you. You won't get one."
"I didn't expect one," Chas said with a shrug, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. Midnite chuckled.
"Just keep your head out of the water and don't get him angry."
Midnite finished off half the drink and stood, grabbing the box and tucking it under his arm. He said a simple good luck before leaving, and Chas sighed heavily.
He'd put everything on hold for John. He hadn't expected anything in return…had he? No, not at the start. But now that this was wearing down on him, exhausting him in mind and body, he wasn't so sure he could handle it alone.
He lifted his head. In the trash can, he could see the envelope he'd put there the night before, the one from UCLA. His acceptance letter, his way out.
"Chas!"
Chas choked back a sob of sheer confusion, his hands tangling tight in his hair, painfully tight.
"Chas, I need you in here! Sometime today!"
Can't handle it. Can't take it. It's all over, you're just his slave.
His cell phone rang.
"Chas!"
"I'll be there in a second!" Chas screamed at John, flipping his cell phone open and holding it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Chas? Where the hell are you, your shift started an hour ago! We need someone covering east downtown!"
Mark Tucker. His boss. "Mr. Tucker, I'm still really tied up here, I told you that-"
"I don't care what you told me before, I told you that you had to be back at work today!"
"I'll be there in a couple days, sir, that's all I need…"
"No, Kramer. Not this time. I've got other people lined up for your job, and I need someone reliable. I'm gonna have to let you go."
"Please, Mr. Tucker, if you'd just-"
"Have your keys and your car turned in by tomorrow when the office closes."
Tucker hung up.
"Chas! Now!" John yelled from the bedroom as Chas dropped his phone to the floor. His hands were shaking, his breath was coming in rapid gasps, and tears fell silently from his eyes.
He couldn't take it.
Unconsciously, he stood up and took a couple steps toward the bedroom, but he stumbled, dizziness overcoming him. Exhaustion, starvation, mental turmoil, it all fell in on him like cement.
Chas was unconscious even too fast to realize he'd fallen.
Chas wasn't unconscious for long. He woke with a pounding headache, slowly pushing himself up from the floor, still shaking like a leaf.
He gathered himself for a few moments, in a bit of a daze. He slipped into the bedroom silently, prepared for an angry outburst; he wasn't disappointed.
"Where the hell were you? I've been damn thirsty for a good fuckin' ten minutes here!"
Chas hesitated, and shrugged. "I fell asleep at the table."
"Then what was that crash?"
"Accidentally knocked a chair over…"
"Clumsy asshole. How about some more whiskey here?"
Chas shook his head. "No more. I wasn't supposed to give you any at all."
"Aw, come on, Chas…"
"Water, tea, orange juice, or milk."
John sighed. "Water's fine, bastard."
Chas went to get the water, clasping his hands together so John wouldn't see them shaking. He got the water and brought it back, and John took it without a single word.
"You're welcome," Chas said, hopeful that the sarcasm would elicit a response. Instead, he just got a grunt.
"If you need anything else, just yell," Chas said quietly, slipping out of the room. He could've sworn that he'd cried all the tears in his body, but evidently not; he slid down the wall outside the bedroom, burying his face in his hands.
He could only wonder how long he could keep this up.