Ozzy pulled his black jeans on and did up his belt before turning to look at himself in the mirror. He lightly traced over the bite mark on his collarbone with two fingers, which was now turning a deep purple colour.
"Spit", he hissed. "That dickhead." He slipped the T-shirt that Thrax had given him over his head and stepped outside into the hallway. What he saw next left the normally loquacious Ozzy speechless.
Thrax was on his hands and knees picking the noodles up one by one from the carpet and putting them in the waste paper basket to his right.
Ozzy stood where he was for a few moments, before mustering up the courage to speak.
"Y-you don't have to…", he stuttered, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.
Thrax pushed himself onto his knees and turned to face Ozzy, seeing that he was wearing the clothes he had given him. They suited him much better than the clothes he had on previously, thought Thrax. The black T-shirt matched his eyes and goatee, the darker colour generally making him look more mature.
Thrax placed his hands on his hips and smirked. "Well no one else around here is gonna bother to do it, are they?", he said, clearly teasing the other man.
Ozzy slammed his arms to his side. "Hey, man, I haven't had the chance, what with your crazy ass making the last 24 hours the most bizarre of my life!", trying to act offended, but letting a smirk cross his face. He stomped over to the kitchen and grabbed a sponge, pouring some bleach on it.
Thrax raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "That's a fine way to ruin a carpet. You'll want to use white vinegar to get these stains out. Bleach will only make everything worse."
Ozzy looked up at him with a puzzled expression, and scrunched up his nose. "How the hell do you know so much about this? You're a dirty virus for Frank's sake! Why should I listen to you?"
Thrax leaned back further, replying, "oh, I'm dirty?! I'm not the one who chooses to live in this literal hovel like a filthy barbarian", gesturing around him at Ozzy's flat on the last two words with a big grin on his face.
Ozzy's smile spread across his face again. He was enjoying this back and forth between him and Thrax, and was surprised by the fact that their senses of humour seemed to mirror each other.
"Ha! Says the guy who can't eat a single meal without throwin' a hissy fit and flingin' his food everywhere!", he retorted, as he pointed at the stain in front of the virus.
Thrax couldn't help but be amused by the way Ozzy moved: jerking his head and shoulders on every word while wildly gesticulating with both hands, splashing water everywhere from the sponge he was holding.
Thrax started laughing, and not just a small chuckle to himself, but full blown, shoulder shaking, tear inducing, raucous laughter. Ozzy's smile faded, and for the second time in so many minutes, he was stunned.
This guy can actually laugh? And at himself? I guess I read him wrong there... Ozzy thought to himself as he took a new sponge and the bottle of white vinegar from under the sink, before heading over to sit across from Thrax.
He kneeled down and started pouring the vinegar on the sponge, getting it all over his lap in the process. Thrax laughed again, before abruptly falling silent when Ozzy glared at him for making fun of him. He started rubbing harshly at the carpet with both hands and a determined look on his face.
Thrax judged that Ozzy was probably imagining that the floor was his face at this point. He tutted and slid next to him, putting one arm over his shoulder as he went to take the sponge from his hands. Ozzy sharply pulled it away, before seeing that Thrax only wanted to help, and handing it to him defeatedly.
"Now look here, Jones, if you rub the floor like a maniac like you were doing, you'll just ruin it even more. If you dab it gently, the sponge has the chance to soak up the stains… see?" Ozzy looked down to see that he was right, which slightly annoyed him.
Thrax started softly humming as he continued to try and mop up the mess, and Ozzy subconsciously nestled into his side, enjoying the heat that was radiating from him. Thrax noticed, and pulled him closer, tightening the grip over his shoulder slightly. They stayed like this for a few minutes while Thrax cleaned the carpet as best he could, and Ozzy noticed that he still had the same grey turtleneck sweater on from when he had first snuck into the city of Frank.
"Uhm… I'll head out in a bit to buy you some new clothes, if you like", Ozzy mumbled and looked up at the other man. Thrax kept humming and simply smiled, which Ozzy took as a yes.
He wiggled out from underneath his arm and grabbed his jacket. He looked back at Thrax, who was still dabbing away at the carpet, and said, "okay… umm… I'll be right back. Stay here and don't do anything stupid, alright?"
Thrax lifted his head to look at Ozzy and just kept on humming the same tune, a big smile spreading across his face. Ozzy rolled his eyes and asked, impatience lacing his voice, "is there any colour you really don't want me to buy?"
Thrax stopped humming and pondered for a moment. "White. I look ridiculous in white. Any other colour is fine."
Ozzy smirked, trying to imagine him in a pure white suit, and left his flat, locking the door behind him. He knew that it didn't really make much of a difference- if Thrax wanted to escape, a locked door wasn't going to stop him- but it made him feel slightly better about leaving the deadly virus alone and unguarded.
"He would look ridiculous in white", Ozzy muttered to himself as he raced down the stairs as fast as he could.
Ozzy opened the door and stepped out onto the street, breathing in the fresh air. It had only been one day since he'd last been outside, but all that had happened since Thrax first stepped into his humble flat made it feel like years had passed.
He jogged across the street to the local market and started trying to decide what he could buy for Thrax. He picked up shirt after shirt, sweater after sweater, noting that none of them would even come close to fitting him. He found something in an XXL and lifted it up. It was a dark green sweater, and Ozzy thought that Thrax might like it.
As he was holding it up, a police car drove past him and stopped. The two officers in the car yelled out at Ozzy, making him jump.
"Hey that sweater won't fit you yet, Jones, but keep stuffing your face with donuts the way you do and you'll get there soon!", jeered the officer in the passenger seat.
Ozzy frowned, but he was all too used to getting taunted in this way by his colleagues. "This ain't for me, you morons", he retorted, "it's for that viral prick I've got stashed away at my place."
"Oooooh", both the officers responded in unison. The cop in the driving seat sneered and added, "the Chief really has lost his mind if he's put you in charge of something so important."
Ozzy flinched at that, but tried not to show the hurt on his face. "Well, I know Thrax better than anyone else, so..."
"Aw, getting all cosy with the virus now, are we, Jonesy? Is that why you're buying him clothes?"
"No, his sweater had a tear in it and..."
"Oh, how sweet!" The cop turned to his colleague. "Ain't that sweet, Dave?"
The cop in the passenger seat leaned over and said in a low voice, "just you wait until we tell the Chief that you've left your new boyfriend alone and unguarded."
Ozzy's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Oh c'mon guys, you don't have to do tha-", but he was interrupted by them speeding off and laughing, leaving Ozzy and his battered ego behind.
He grumbled something about how it was thanks to him they weren't frying eggs out of Frank's dead butt, before grabbing another sweater of the same size and the largest pair of jeans he could find.
Ozzy ran back up the stairs holding his purchases and pushed against his front door with his shoulder, finding that, to his surprise, it was still locked. He opened it with his key and walked in. Thrax was sitting on one of his bar stools and swivelled round when he heard Ozzy come in.
"Boy am I glad to see you're still here", Ozzy said, before adding, "glad to see you didn't escape, I mean…"
Thrax laughed, which made the other man smile at him before shaking his head and handing him the clothes he had bought. "Ahem, there weren't many things in your size, so, uh, I'm sorry if they're not really you", Ozzy uttered as Thrax admired the dark green sweater.
"Not bad, Jones. I'll try it on after I've had a shower." He lowered the sweater to look at Ozzy with a smile and said in a low voice, "can you show me how to turn it on?"
Ozzy gulped and nodded quickly. Why the fuck does he have to talk like that… and look at me like that?!
Thrax smirked as he watched Ozzy hurry past him and dart into the bathroom. He knew what effect his deep voice and sultry smile had on people, and secretly loved how flustered Ozzy was obviously getting.
Even though he no longer felt any anger towards him, there was still a sense of competition between them, and he enjoyed knowing that he could make Ozzy squirm with just a look.
He didn't really understand what this competition even was, or where it would end. All he knew was that, right now, he was winning.
He followed Ozzy into the bathroom, humming quietly and swaying his hips as he sauntered over to him.
Ozzy frowned and cleared his throat. "Okay so this button turns it on and this one turns it off."
Thrax cocked his head. "And what about the temperature?"
Ozzy narrowed his eyes as he suddenly had an idea. He bit his lip to try and stop the smirk that was attempting to crawl across his face. "Oh, of course, silly me. This handle here changes the temperature. You can use my shampoo if you want, but not the soap. Okay, have a nice shower!" he said enthusiastically.
Technically, that handle did change the temperature, or it was supposed to, but with no hot water running to his flat, it wasn't going to do Thrax much good. This'll get him back for this morning.
Ozzy skipped out of the bathroom and plonked himself down on the sofa to watch some TV, smiling to himself as he heard Thrax turn on the shower.
He became impatient after not hearing anything for a few moments, and crept over to the bathroom door to press his ear against it. He heard the water hitting the floor, along with the occasional, almost whispered, "fuck fuck fuck."
Ozzy grinned and rubbed his hands together; Thrax was obviously trying his hardest not to make a noise and give Ozzy the satisfaction of knowing that he was suffering.
Ozzy couldn't help but laugh; somehow all of his hostility towards Thrax had channelled itself into this weird, unspoken competition.
Thrax may have successfully managed to get Ozzy all flustered with a few words, but now he was paying the price.
Ozzy covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter as he heard Thrax insult him under his breath. There was no real malice behind either of their actions. In fact, they were both finding it kind of fun. Well, Thrax was, before the shower, at least.
Then Ozzy heard the shower turn off, and he quickly jumped back onto the sofa, trying to act as innocent as possible.
He kept his eyes fixed on the TV, his knees up to his chest. He hugged a cushion to try and hide his smile as Thrax stepped out of the bathroom.
"Well, Jones, I never thought you'd be cruel enough to make a fever virus take a cold shower."
Ozzy turned his head to reply but his eyes widened when he saw that Thrax was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and a very small towel at that; hell, it might as well have been a fucking face cloth. It barely covered anything, leaving a tantalising amount of skin exposed.
Ozzy rolled his gaze over Thrax's chest and across his shoulders, before moving his eyes down, and down…
"Something the matter, Jones?"
Ozzy looked back up at his face, realising now that he'd been caught staring at him with his mouth hanging open. He babbled something incoherent and laughed nervously, before spinning his head back round to face the TV and hugging the cushion tighter.
Well done, Ozzy. That was smooth. I bet now he's got that self-satisfied smirk smeared across his smug… Just then, Ozzy felt the wet towel be thrown over his head.
He ripped it off and gripped it tightly in his hand, before sitting up on his knees and turning to face Thrax. "Hey! Do I look like a fuckin' towel rack to you?!" he yelled, "go hang it...", before his voice trailed off.
Thrax was standing by the barstool, completely naked, his skin all soft and shiny from the shower. Ozzy watched, totally entranced, as a few droplets of water dripped out of the ends of his hair and slowly ran over the curves of his arms.
His eyes were then drawn to his chest as a ray of dappled light shone through the curtains and seemed to weave itself around every muscle.
"Sorry, what did you say?", Thrax replied innocently, pulling the dark green sweater over his head to hide his smile. Checkmate, baby.
Ozzy couldn't take his eyes off him. He had never seen a body that wasn't another cell before, and he took a sharp intake of breath as he admired the way Thrax's muscles rippled under the taut skin on his abdomen and chest before they were covered up by the sweater.
"Jones?"
"Huh?", Ozzy said quietly as his gaze continued to glide over Thrax's legs. He suddenly remembered himself and managed to tear his eyes off of Thrax's body to look back up at his face. Fuck!
He lifted the towel up and started babbling, "the towel... you threw... you're so hung... I mean, you're supposed to hang..." He saw a smirk spread over Thrax's face and blushed, before shaking his head and quickly looking away. "Nah, nothin'."
He threw the towel on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest, fine, you win this round. He started whistling awkwardly and tapping his fingers on his thigh to try and distract himself from the half naked virus behind him, willing time to go faster.
"Well, what do you think?", Thrax said after he'd got fully dressed. Ozzy turned to look him up and down and frowned, oh, and of course he looks incredible… what an insufferable cock.
He got up off the sofa and sauntered around to lean against the back of it. He put his thumb and finger under his chin and pretended to be deep in thought. "Hmm… well you still look like a dickhead to me… but it'll take more than a sweater to change that now, won't it?", he said, now grinning.
Thrax smirked and opened his mouth to reply with an insult when his stomach grumbled. He looked back up at Ozzy with almost pleading eyes. Ozzy understood what he meant and headed over to the fridge, while laughing and jokingly telling him that he better not fling it everywhere this time.
Thrax, unable to bear the sight of another pot noodle, darted to the door, promising that he would come back with some proper food. Before Ozzy could even turn around, Thrax was already out the door and running down the flights of stairs.
"Hey, come back! You're not supposed to leave, y'know! You're a prisoner!", but Thrax was already too far to hear him.
Ozzy wondered whether he should chase him, worried about what might happen if any unfortunate cells happened to be walking outside his flat and suffer his wrath. However, something in his gut made Ozzy trust that everything would be fine, convincing himself with the thought that Thrax didn't seem to be inherently evil, just a bit mental.
Ozzy had certainly noticed a change in Thrax's behaviour towards him since last night, and could have sworn than he had started to look at him differently, almost warmly.
He shook his head. Nah, I must just be goin' stir crazy being stuck in here with him. He leant his elbows on the kitchen counter, anxiously drumming his fingers on it and biting the nails off his other hand as he waited for Thrax to return.
An eternity seemed to pass by, leaving Ozzy to wonder if he had made the right choice in putting his trust in the virus, before Thrax burst through the door, almost knocking it off its hinges. He stood in the doorway, a proud smile plastered across his face, holding two cups of coffee in one hand and a box of donuts in the other.
He hadn't planned on buying anything so sickly, but went with the stereotype that cops love donuts, and thought that Ozzy would be happy with them.
Ozzy's little face lit up and he leapt over the kitchen counter towards Thrax. He snatched the box out of his clawed hands, implicitly telling Thrax that he had made the right choice, and looked up at him with a big grin.
"I didn't know what any of the flavours were, so I hope you like the ones I got", Thrax stated, gesturing at the box with his free hand.
Ozzy opened the box and his eyes brightened even more. "You got the one with the jelly-filled nucleus! That's my favourite!", he said excitedly.
Ozzy hopped over to the counter and sat on the barstool. He started devouring one of the donuts before remembering himself and spinning around on the chair, mouth full, powdered sugar covering his cheeks. He waved enthusiastically for Thrax to come join him and spun back round to take another donut.
Thrax sat beside him on the other stool and carefully picked up one of the donuts with his claws, looking at it as if it would kill him. Ozzy looked up at him expectantly, and nodded at him to try it, before gulping noisily. Thrax tentatively took a tiny bite of the donut and was very careful to not let his disgust show on his face, forcing a weak smile.
"Hmm-mmm" he said, pretending to find the sugary treat delicious, waiting until Ozzy had spun back round to face his own donut before letting his face fall.
The two men ate in silence, the sounds of Ozzy happily munching away filling the room. After Ozzy had eaten seven of the eight donuts from the box, he finally mustered up the courage to ask Thrax the question that had been bugging him all day.
"So… what's all this about anyway? You could have so easily killed me this morning in the, uh, shower", he said quietly, gulping as he remembered Thrax licking up and down his neck. He shook his head and continued, "you had your chance to finish me off in there, so why didn't you?"
Thrax stared at Ozzy, who was still looking straight ahead into the kitchen. "Oh, baby", he cooed, pushing his hair back with his hand and smirking. "It was never my intention to kill you in that shower. I just wanted to mess with your head a bit."
"Oh, so that explains the bitin' then…"
Thrax's eyes widened at that last remark, before stating, "well that was just because you looked so damn delicious pinned against the tiles, baby", a sleazy smile breaking out on his face.
Ozzy angrily grabbed the coffee cup and started taking huge gulps before slamming it on the counter top and turning to face Thrax.
"Stop makin' a joke out of everything, and don't for one second think you can lure me into a false sense of security by playin' nice all of a sudden! And another thing, I'm not your fuckin' baby!"
Thrax looked a little hurt by this and sighed. "Do you know what it's like to be a virus, Jones?", he asked, knowing that Ozzy didn't have the slightest idea. Ozzy shook his head as his angry expression dissipated.
"Well it's a very lonely life. You go from body to body, killing everyone you meet and leaving nothing but destruction in your wake. You never make any real connections no matter how hard you try, as everyone you meet either wants to kill you or is deathly afraid of you. Eventually you give up trying and just give into what you were made to do: kill."
Ozzy was about to contest this before Thrax continued, "and you know what, Jones, you're the first person to ever truly see me as anything other than that. I don't know how to describe it, but it's almost like you're able to see past the fact that I'm a virus and you're an immunity cell. I feel like I can be... myself with you."
Ozzy's mouth opened and closed quickly as he struggled to find the words. What's he tryna say?
Thrax placed his hand on Ozzy's shoulder and said in a low voice, "and then, to top it all off, you saved me. You decided to risk your life to save mine, instead of letting me fall on that false lash and probably get trampled to death on the hospital floor. No one had ever cared about my life before."
Thrax put his hand behind Ozzy's neck and pulled him into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around him. "So, no, I wasn't about to kill the only person who's ever been good to me."
Ozzy blinked, unsure how to react, and then instinctively grabbed onto Thrax's sweater to pull him closer. He nuzzled into his broad chest and said quietly, "just so you know, I've never felt so... appreciated by anyone before you came along."
Thrax opened his eyes and put his hand under Ozzy's chin to make him look up at him. "How do you mean?"
"Well... as a white blood cell, you're expected to just follow orders and work together, never doing anything to stand out… I-I have never been very good at that, and you're the first person to see me as an individual, rather than just a failed cop. I feel like you're the only one who actually accepts me for who I am, and doesn't try to make me be like everyone else."
He smiled up at Thrax and tightened his grip on his sweater. "It probably sounds dumb, but, despite our differences, it's like there's a... connection between us. An understanding almost."
That comment coupled with the look in Ozzy's eyes made Thrax feel like his heart was about to melt, and he pushed Ozzy's face back into his chest, not wanting the other man to see him be vulnerable.
"It's not dumb, Jones."
He started stroking up and down Ozzy's arm and lightly kissed him on top of his head without thinking. He inhaled sharply and frowned. Why the fuck did I do that?
Ozzy flinched and snapped his eyes open. Did he really...?
He cleared his throat and pushed against Thrax's chest with one hand, creating some distance between them, both of the men looking the other way so as not to make eye contact.
Ozzy slid off the stool and mumbled, "uh, thanks for the food… how much do I owe ya?"
Thrax raised both arms slightly and started to gloat as if nothing had happened, "owe me? It was on the house, baby! Do you really expect Big Daddy Thrax to pay for anything?"
Ozzy stared at him with wide eyes before smirking and replying playfully, "you really shouldn't say that in front of a cop, y'know."