Chapter Three-Hundred and Eighteen
Claire handed John a water bottle as he heaved a breath. "Getting tired?" She asked, grabbing a bandanna that her mother had supplied for him from his back pocket and wiping it over his brow.
He gasped in relief as he twisted the lid back onto the bottle, shaking his head before planting a kiss onto her nose. "No. Just hot." His eyes widened as the words left his lips, able to see Claire had her scheming face on. "Oh, no you don't." He backed away from her, that mischief in her eyes too obvious.
"Oh, no I don't, what?" She asked innocently, lifting her Bambi eyes to make herself look even more innocent.
"Don't play dumb. You're planning something." He pointed an accusing finger at her as the wheels started to turn. "Stop it!"
"What?"
"Planning fuckery!" He stated, his blood heating with fear of the prank to come.
Clarissa glared at him, raising her voice as she called across the site. "Put a dollar in the swear jar!"
John pulled out a twenty, marching over to the little jar that was sitting on the table beside the bus. "Here. This should hold me over until that Goddamn prank happens. Then I'll have to put a fifty in there."
John coughed as dust got into his lungs, his exhaustion showing as the sun began to set. He had to fight to stay on his feet, and he knew that the second he went to sit down, he wouldn't get up until the next morning.
"John!" Clarissa called when she noticed that he was moving slower. "Come get dinner and go to bed."
"I'm fine, Mom!" John shouted, a small scream escaping his throat as Asher grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him to the bus. "Put me down!" He growled, twisting like a cat in a net until Asher finally planted him on his chair.
"Eat." Asher smirked, giving his nephew a hard tap on the ear. "Or I'll glue your ass to that seat."
John rolled his eyes, throwing a hotdog bun at Tyler as he wandered over with his video camera. "Fuck off asshole!" He snapped, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as his overly tired body became extra sensitive to the scent of Ketchup and Mustard combining with potato salad, barbeque gas, and burned grease. "I'm just gonna go to bed." He stood, entering the bus before he rolled into his bunk and pulled the curtain closed.
Claire pulled John's curtain back, climbing into his bed and cuddling into his chest. She picked up one of his old flannels, gently wiping it over his cheekbones, and nose to clean him of the sweat and dirk. She rolled him onto his side, giggling when he didn't even make a sound of disapproval as she pulled his arms out of his flannel and touched her fingertips to the black tattoo on the inside of his arm. "Saved by an angel." She kissed the ink, gently combing his hair back and laying back down beside him. "Well, I was rescued by a knight disguised as a scoundrel." She closed her eyes, completely missing the little smirk on his lips as sleep over took her.