Seasonal Allergies
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
John's allergies were flared as he drove the cruiser, sneezing into his elbow again and again. He rubbed at his red, runny nose and moaned for the umpteenth time.
Dorian felt absolutely helpless, holding a box of tissues on his lap for whenever the sniffling man needed one.
"Maybe you should see a doctor?" Dorian offered, booking him an appointment right then and there, the blue lights on his face flashing.
John gave him a suspicious squint with his red-rimmed eyes, "I wasn't born yesterday. Cancel it, Dee."
Dorian sighed, "Am I that predictable?"
John rolled his eyes in his head and sneezed again, reaching over to drag a tissue from the box with a groan. "I don't do doctors," he said, "it's too...it reminds me too much of my time in the hospital after my coma."
He felt a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off. He wasn't looking for pity, he was looking for a way out of going to the doctor.
"Let's at least get you some medicine," Dorian said, pointing to a drug store up ahead.
John steered the cruiser into the parking lot, agreeing. Anything to stop this conversation.
The harsh overhead lighting in the drugstore made him wince. Easter was in full force and the aisles were bedecked with colorful plastic things, stuffed toys, egg candies, and other frivolous niceties. John passed judgement on all of it as he shuffled past, muttering, "Useless crap," then he stopped short and said, "Ooo peanut butter eggs," and grabbed three bags.
Meanwhile, Dorian was at the pharmacy counter speaking to the tech. He was explaining John's symptoms in full detail while gesturing to the sniffling detective across the room. John felt himself flush with embarrassment. Shopping with Dorian was like shopping with his grandmother when she was still alive. She always gave people too much unsolicited information. She would tell sales representatives when it was his birthday, or where they were going next, or that she recently had surgery.
John hid from view down the shampoo aisle, staring at the colorful, confusing bottles.
When Dorian joined him, the android had an armful of pills, sprays, cough drops, and god only knows what else.
In the car, Dorian instructed John on what to take and how to take it. As much as he hated all the fuss and attention, he felt way better.
However, the medicine made him drowsy. Dorian drove while John snoozed in the passenger seat. When John woke up in his bed a few hours later, feeling better. He tried to be mad at Dorian for drugging him but instead he just curled himself back into the blankets and rested his chin on the DRNs chest, closing his eyes again.
I have allergies so bad right now. Someone please come drug me.