Well, what do you know. I have stomach flu… Today is very miserable day for me but hey, at least it’s inspiration for a story to match my sick in bed Gavin picture. Woo hoo, I suppose.
Gavin lay in bed groaning and grumbling when Jack, now having enough spare time before his next reaping session, decided to drop in only to find the tattooed freak curled up into a ball underneath the covers.
“What is up with you?”, asked Jack, raising an eyebrow.
“Have you come to take my soul?”, asked Gavin.
“Of course not, don’t be silly. Now get out of bed.”
“I’m dying”, Gavin moaned.
“No, you’re not!”
“Okay, but seriously, I am sick.”
“Sick?”, said Jack, “I don’t know how to deal with sickness. Oh, I know! I’ll call Sly and ask him what to do.”
In the meantime, Sly was in his office at work when his cell phone rang. He answered it only to find it was Jack on the other end of the line.
“I need your help”, said Jack’s voice. Sly was silent for a moment. A reaper needing his help? For what? What is there for him to do that a powerful being like Jack can’t? Sly swallowed. Just when he was about to ask how he can help…
“Sick? As in flu?”
Well, that made sense. Reapers don’t understand sickness very well, at least not all of them do.
“Are you sure he’s not faking it?”, asked Sly. The thought hadn’t occured to Jack. Did humans actually fake illness? He turned to Gavin.
“You’re not faking it, are you?”
“What?! No! Why would I be faking it? I told you Sly’s useless and you’re not helping either! You’re just an idiot!”
“He says he’s not faking it. How can I tell if he’s faking or not?”
Sly sighed. He had always known Jack to be really knowledgeable but today he seemed absolutely clueless. He had never thought he see the day when Jack would become a dimwit. He was half happy that the intellectual Jack was dumbed down and half frustrated because now he had to fix Jack’s problem during his working hours.
“I dunno. Just take his temperature or something.”
“Okaaaay…”, came Jack’s voice, sounding like he was wondering how to do that.
“Can you find a thermometer?”, asked Sly, he lack of patience accidentally shown in his voice.
“Yup, here it is.”
“Great, now shove it up his ass. NO! Don’t do that! Uh, put it in his mouth or something.”
Gavin yanked the thermometer from Jack’s hand. He didn’t trust Jack nor Sly at the moment. He placed the thermometer under his tongue and wondered whether if there was any point at all in doing so. He had already assumed what his temperature would be. He pulled the thermometer out and grimaced when it showed the exact digits as he had guessed.
“38 degrees”, Jack repeated over the phone as Gavin began to complain.
“I hate being sick! I’m tired and dizzy and everything hurts too much! My body’s system is all fucked up, I’m vomitting out of my asshole!”
“Gavin!”, Jack scolded and Sly heard him.
“What? What happened?”, he asked, worried.
“Oh, he’s just being an idiot.”
“What did he do?”
“He said he’s ‘vomitting out of his asshole’.”
Sly couldn’t help but burst out laughing in the office. He immediately covered his mouth and silenced himself hoping no one passing by had heard him.
“Oh no! Well, make sure he drinks plenty of water and gets enough rest. Has he tried eating anything?”
Jack relayed the question to Gavin who slowly lifted his head of his pillow once he came to a realization.
“I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.”
When Sly heard what Gavin had said through Jack, he immediately asked to personally speak to him. Jack handed to phone over to Gavin. Even though he hadn’t heard what the two were discussing, he was sure Sly was telling Gavin to watch his health. He could hear Gavin responding with tired ‘yeah’s, ‘okay’s and ‘alright’s. He then gave the phone back to Jack and Sly began to instruct him.
“Can you please fix him something to eat? Can you make him some soup?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Alright. Keep an eye on him and, if things get worse take him to a doctor.”
Jack borrowed Gavin’s kitchen to make some soup. For an entity that never ate, Jack cooked surprisingly well. He picked up the skill from an old friend, a reaper who would rather mingle with the humans than reap their souls. He hummed cheerily as he cooked. There was something pleasant about cooking and he enjoyed this useless (well, at least to himself) skill despite rarely needing it. Gavin was the only one who ate his food but then again, Gavin was the only closest human friend he had. Once he brought back a bowl of soup to Gavin’s room, he found the boy curled up, clutching his stomach, weeping, a complete mess.
“It hurts”, he sobbed, “My stomach hurts! I feel like I’m being stabbed with knives! God!”
(That’s all for now. G’night everybody.)