Page 15 of Inevitable
“How come you’re not at home praying for the sweet release of death?” Bas asked conversationally, leaning against the backrest.
Ezra muttered something unintelligible.
“What was that? I don’t speak flu.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Ezra repeated more clearly.
It must have been the fever talking because Bas didn’t think Ezra would have been that forthcoming about his situation otherwise.
Bas didn’t have to think about what to do next. The decision was just there. Not following through wasn’t even an option.
“Right. Let’s get you all bundled up, then.”
Ezra regarded him with bleary eyes. “Why?”
“You’re coming home with me. Where’s your hat?”
“Don’t have one,” Ezra croaked and sneezed right after.
“Scarf? Mittens?” Bas asked.
Ezra was staring at Bas like he was speaking a foreign language.
“Maybe ambulance isn’t such a bad idea,” Bas muttered to himself.
Ezra grasped Bas’s hand with ice-cold fingers.
“No money.” He started coughing again. “No hospital,” he wheezed, after he was done coughing.
“Can you maybe not be a stubborn ass for just one night?”
“You don’t even know me,” Ezra mumbled and leaned his head back on his arms, “so fuck off. I can handle myself.”
“Sure. You look on top of stuff.” Bas pulled his beanie out of his pocket and pushed it toward Ezra, who ignored it completely. Bas sighed and sat down next to Ezra. It took him a bit of effort, but a few minutes later, the man’s jacket was zipped up tight, he was wearing Bas’s scarf, beanie, and gloves, and Bas had an Uber waiting for them outside the diner.
He had to practically carry Ezra to the car and then, once they got to his and Drew’s apartment, up the stairs and onto the couch. Bas pulled off Ezra’s jacket and boots before he went and grabbed the thermometer they kept in the first aid kit, and then promptly freaked out when it hit 103.4 in seemingly no time at all.
“Huh. So that’s not good at all,” he muttered. A quick internet search about fever in adults didn’t make Bas’s state of mind any more Zen. He crouched down next to the couch and gently placed his palm on Ezra’s forehead. “Hey.”
A pair of feverish, red eyes peered up at Bas.
“Yeah?” Ezra whispered.
“Do you have a headache?” Bas asked. He had to eliminate at least some of the symptoms.
“Everything hurts,” Ezra replied very unhelpfully.
“Dizziness?”
“Sure.”
Bas’s heartbeat had risen to his throat.
“Sensitivity to bright light?”
Ezra had nodded off again, so Bas got up and turned on the overhead lights. Ezra winced and slammed his forearm across his eyes.
“Dickhead,” he mumbled, making Bas snort.
