2019-09-27 - You Should Go

It's been a few days since the exorcism of Billy Ghoul, the exorcism that by most accounts went as well as could be hoped for. He was supposedly trapped in Itzhak's violin case, a container meant to hold the spirit until they could put him to rest with a proper burial. Turns out, that didn't work as well as they all hoped. Instead Billy's murderous raging spirit has infected nearly everyone involved in this affair. On top of all that Easton has now fully entered the fever induced Dreaming part of this flu. He had been sleeping on the couch, in the guest room or at Geoff's during Bennie's illness but they've now traded places as she's on the mend.

The A/C is cranking in the apartment, even as it cools down outside in the fall Easton is still burning up. He's taken to bed for most of the day and currently lies wearing only a pair of tiny green PT shorts on just a sheet. He's taken to putting down towels because he's sweating so much at night or whenever he gets a few minutes of sleep. He meant to check in on Byron. He meant to reach out to Alexander. But everything seems to take so much effort and frankly he's not sure how much he should be going out considering the last contact he had with a stranger was the delivery boy he nearly murdered for being a few minutes late. When he first was coming down with this he thought it was a good idea to just drink it away, getting drunk and just riding it out. Now even the thought of drinking makes him too queasy and he's just put in an IV to stay hydrated. So there he lies in bed, his leg off, just a pair of shorts on, IV in his arm and Top Gun playing on the TV though his glassy eyes can barely focus on Tom Cruises enormous teeth.

Bennie is, by all accounts, on the mend. That does not mean she's feeling well however, in any sense of the word. She's on day Bajillion of calling in sick to work, but according to her shift manager, it seems to be a trend. Most of Gray Harbor is sick, apparently, and could she please in no uncertain terms 'get her ass in here the moment she can stand'. Bennie is not taking that directive seriously, despite her usual work ethic, because she's standing just fine. Remaining that way, is the challenge.

She trundles in from the kitchen in a pair of Easton's sweatpants and her J. Oakes P.E. t-shirt, setting down a glass of orange juice on the bedside table before flopping down face first on an unoccupied corner of the bed. With her face smooshed in the mattress, she asks, "You still alive?"

Easton's unfocused eyes turn to look at Bennie as she enters the room, the sweat beading up on his forehead wiped away with a cool bandanna that he keeps by the bedside. He watches her come in and flop down as if she's just a part of the movie until she asks him a question. He thinks about it for a while and says, "I don't know? I don't think I've ever been this sick. Including getting food poisoning on leave once." He lets his head fall back against the pillows that are propped up against the headboard. "Please tell me you are feeling wonderful and full of energy and amazing and ... other good things."

"Rainbows and unicorn farts." Comes Bennie's slightly muffled reply, then with a groan, she props herself up on her elbows. "Are you to the teeth aching part? That was fun!" She tries to sound cheery, despite the ominous portent. Slowly she starts to push back on her haunches so she can wiggle up closer to him and dig in the pocket of her stolen sweats. "Here, take these. It'll at least help with the aches and pains. Vicodin." Despite her aversion to such things, there are apparently some instances that call for something with a little more punch. "Won't help with the fever, but maybe it'll help you care about it a little less. Open." She tells him before holding up two tablets towards his mouth.

Easton's chest rises and falls with silent laughter at her reply as his head lulls to the sides. He shakes his head and says, "I can't even tell anymore." In answer to her question about his teeth. He nods in agreement at the Vicodin even if the thought of having to swallow any liquid with them makes him uneasy. He takes the pills in his mouth and is able to at least get them down with some of the OJ, even if he doesn't drink any more than is absolutely necessary.

"I need to stay up too. I can't.." He seems to lose his train of thought for a second before continuing, a frown of frustration on his face at his lack of clarity. "I keep falling into Dreams. And it's better if I can stay up." The dark circles under his eyes aren't exactly new with the fever, his sleep has been erratic as long as she's known him. But it's clear that this is a new level of exhaustion, trying to fight off the flu, some murderous urges and still being tormented by Dreams and visions of his failures as a Marine captain. It's a lot.

Bennie toys with a damp lock of his hair as Easton downs the pills, even though her own is a rat's nest piled atop her head. "You should sleep. Even if it sucks. Your body needs the rest if it's going to heal." She stretches out next to him, careful not to crowd despite the urge to just wrap herself around him and cling to his sweaty form to give them both some much needed comfort. She settles instead for kissing a patch of his shoulder, headless of the salty taste it leaves on her lips. "Do you want me to sing you to sleep? It might be more painful than the flu. Also, uh. Where's the dog?" Apparently that little bit of conversation was lost to the sick haze.

Easton lets his head roll towards her hand, even though he's sweaty and gross and far too hot to want any body contact he gladly lets her play with his hair. He does a nod of I know, I know at the advice about sleeping but protests, "I would. But I keep ending up lost and .. I don't know what's going on with my... whatever Glimmer?" He frowns again but that's abated by her stretching out next to him. He tried to give her space when she was sick, not that she necessarily asked for it but he assumed? The kiss on the shoulder lets a small smile form at the edges of his mouth. "I'm gonna pass on that." The dog. Right. They have a dog. He didn't forget! Totally. "Sutton has him. No. Sutton's friend, the Brit has him. Who's name I totally know and didn't just hand our dog off to some stranger." He tries to think of it before changing subject, "Sutton's sick as hell too."

Bennie would've protested any sort of pampering, assuring that she was fine. Just fine. So space is exactly what she wanted during the worst of it, if only to not being a burden. In truth, it's been the first time in a long time that anyone has taken care of her when ill, so what little she did allow she seemed eternally grateful for. Bennie, however, would studiously ignore all protests, as even now she's taking up his cool bandana and blotting at his face in little pats across his brow and over his cheeks, tracing over that hint of smile when it forms ever so gingerly. "I wish I could help. Everyone. Anyone. Whatever I am is on the fritz too. But we'll all get through this."

Easton doesn't expect or want much pampering. He's never really had any sort of 'caregiver' figure in his life beyond medical professionals or someone paid to help him. He doesn't fight against it per say, so much as insist it's not needed and that he'll get through just fine. At least until recently when he's stopped insisting, it takes more energy than just accepting it. He nods and says, "I know you do. But this thing is fucked up." He knows that some have tried to use their healing gifts to knock it out to no effect. "And you recovered, so yay, not fatal." Not that he ever thought her life was in danger throughout any of this, because then he would have for damn sure gotten her into a hospital, more like he's trying to make the point that he'll survive.

"Yay." Bennie echoes feebly, because she knows the truth: it feels like death. So much so she might of, and he may, wish for actual death and the welcome sweet embrace of darkness just to not suffer anymore. But some people are like that with just the common cold. "Sorry I made you sick though. Good thing is, I probably can't catch it again, right? If it's viral? It spreads like viral so that means there's no sense avoiding kissing you anymore!" Small victories! And to celebrate she dares a tiny kiss to Easton's lips, keeping it chaste in deference to his situation.

Easton is certainly finding himself wishing for death, but not so much death itself as the peaceful rest of a grave. Granted this has much more to do with Billy the Ghoul infecting his mind, the two main side effects being MURDER!thoughts and a great desire for the rest of the grave. But he manages to keep those thoughts at bay as well, at least for now. "With the way this thing spread, I don't think I had a shot. Everyone is dropping like flies." When she talks about kissing him, there is a legitimate flash of fear in his eyes. Not at the thought of kissing her, or even the close sweaty contact. No it's the fear that he might legitimately throw up on her while kissing. He is thankful though for the small peck and says, "This flu is so damned powerful it's managed to temporarily kill our sex life. That's impressive. And a little scary. But don't worry, give me a day or two, we'll show it." He manages a weak smile even though at this point those are big words from a very sick man.

Easton's observation about their sex life causes an honest to goodness laugh to bubble out of Bennie, a musical note to it as if she's almost back to her normal self. Now if she'd only regain a bit of her color and energy, she might even pass. "Well, I always thought it would take an act of God to slow us down, so I guess this counts. Rest assured that's the first thing on my list as soon as you're back on your feet. Right behind being well enough to get our baby back. Never thought I'd miss a ball of fluff so much as when I went to grab his leash and attempt to walk him at least around the block."

Easton likewise manages a weak smile at her laugh, though his eyes remain just as glassy and untouched by it as before. "A real meal." He notes, kind of oddly at her mention of a list. "Right after ravishing you, I want a real meal. Out at a restaurant, with actual silverware. I regret every meal I have ever skipped or substituted a cliff bar for right now." Not that he wants to eat mind you. He just misses the ability to want to eat. "Aw, Gunny." He also misses the dog, though a little less right now. "Carver! That's his name. I can text him when you're up for it? But once I threw up on him I figured it was time to send him off to doggy daycare."

Bennie's laughter fades until it's just a soft dying hum until all that remains is a soft smile. "Maybe eating first, so you have the strength to try that wall thing again. I think our mistake was just a gross miscalculation in our center of gravity." Even though she's trying to give him his 'space', uncomfortable as he must be, she can't help but touch him in little ways, such as toying with his beard as she is now. "You threw up. On the dog. I'm sure he just wagged his tail and happily lapped it up like it was a gift." She nods to the notion of calling Carver, "Soon." She promises. Still not feeling up for any public appearance.

"You're right. I should carb load to get prepared for what obviously will be a ridiculous marathon session." He doesn't shy away from her touch, though he's not exactly cuddling her. He likes the beard rubbing and 'mhmms' softly at it. "That's a good point. I also need to up my squat game." He looks over at her, trying for a sexy smile and landing somewhere closer to punch-drunk squint. Something about her playing with his beard reminds him, "I need to shave and buzz my head at some point." Probably not when he can hardly see straight, but something about being so sweaty makes him want to just shave it all off. "And yes, he thought it was great until I made him shower with me to get it all out."

Punch drunk squint or not, Bennie looks entirely enchanted by that smile or maybe it's just the sentiment she knows is behind it. Then she gasps, not about showering the dog, but about his threat to shave. "You mean...I'm going to see you naked?! I'm not sure I'm prepared for that kind of commitment. I mean. What if you have an ugly chin, or you're horribly disfigured under there? Do you think our relationship can handle that kind of strain? I'm not really a convincing liar." To prove her point she affixes a fake and pained smile on her lips and says through clenched teeth, "No honey, your face doesn't look like I'm suddenly dating a twelve year old."

Such is the level of Easton's charm, or Bennie's blindness to his faults at least that she finds such a look anything other than concerning. "Woah, hold on. I didn't mean like razor, I was thinking rugged stubble. Full beard is too much. Naked face is too revealing, it's like walking around without a gun." Yes, most people might say with no clothes on but that wouldn't actually be an issue for Easton. However, no gun? That's crazy talk. "And you're a fine liar." He levels at her a look that is less sexy and more 'real talk' "We both do just fine."

The relieved look on Bennie's face about the beard issue is short lived, she doesn't even have time to stipulate that it be a long stubble before he's doing the 'real talk' look and voice. To that, she can only roll her eyes, because there isn't much defense. Instead, she tries the tried and true changing the subject method. "Keeping those pills down okay? Wanna dare try some soup or get some sleep instead? Don't worry, I'll watch over you. Keep you safe." Maybe he'll be disarmed by her smile! Worth a shot.

Easton may not be able to focus enough to read her expression when he calls her a liar. Granted he at least included himself in that little accusation to soften the blow at least. But he catches the eyeroll and is too sick to let her get his goat. He lets her get away with the subject change, "Yea. I'm keeping them down fine. But no. Please no food." He has spent far, far too much time throwing up lately to even consider putting something in his stomach willingly. When she offers to watch over him his face falls. He manages a small head shake, willfully surpressing what should just be a minor twinge of annoyance at the implication that he's helpless but is instead a rising tide of rage. He closes his eyes for a moment and says, calmly if a little louder than before, "That's what I don't want. I don't want you in those places." The wording there coming out a little closer to the truth than he meant it, he tries to right that ship. He looks at her again and says, "I don't want you getting hurt for me."

Bennie gives a little un-disuaded, "Mm," as she flops over on her back and folds her hands on her stomach. She should get up and shower. Get dressed in real clothes. Maybe tidy the apartment a little as she's been guilty of leaving dirty dishes in the sink while Easton is too sick to notice. Instead she stares at the lazy twirl of the ceiling fan and stays stretched out next to him. "As if we ever have a choice in that matter. Also, only one of those pills was vicodin, the other was a sleeping pill. So you're not going to have much choice in that matter, either. You're getting rest, one way or another."

"You drugged me?" His head flops to the side so he can look at her in mock shock and horror. He laughs and says, "I mean, I know you wanted to take advantage of me in my weakened state. And you said you weren't a good liar." Yea, he's not really letting that go, especially since she just proved herself quite adept at deception.

His smile fades a little though at the thought of her being there during one of his Dreams. "Can we skip the part where I'm a raging asshole at you to push you away? I'm kind of not up for that right now?" It's a classic for a reason, except right now he's a little worried about his temper and where that might go. But normally now's about the part where he would pick a fight. "I know you mean well." So why is get getting unreasonable angry about it? "I'm just.." He looks at her and tries to explain.

And then there's a connection between their minds. Something that Isabella showed him how to do, and they are very clearly in Easton's mind. His mindscape is not a fun night out at the bar, no, it's a warzone. A high energy combat zone. The building they are in is dark. But the control he exhibited with Isabella is severly lacking. Easton is present, laboring over a desk with papers and maps spread out on it. There are Marines coming and going, including more than a few who are nearly foaming at the mouth and needing to be held back. There words can't be heard exactly but the desire to murder someone, anyone, is clear. Easton tries to quiet the scene, to get back in control and explain something to her, but it's clear that the amount of activity happening is straining his ability to keep it neat and orderly.

<<I'm trying.>>

"If you wanna Asshole at me," Yes, that's now a verb, "Go right ahead, but it's not going to work." Bennie assures, "I'll know it's just the flu talking." She's rolling over on her side to comfort him again with a light brush of her fingers down his arm. It's just enough to stir hair away from fever prickled arms but when he chooses show instead of tell, the movement stills.

Suddenly, they curl away, when her mind throws her into a different place and time. Or rather the present, such as it is, in the state of Easton's mind. That seething murderous desire radiating off of him is palpable, and it causes a quake in Bennie's chest like her heart is stuttering in its beat. Worse than her physical reaction is her mental one: fear mingled with repulsion.

<<It's okay, it's okay>>

But is the mantra for him or for her?

The mental link shuts down abruptly when Easton feels the repulsion coming off her. It's not even a conscious decision as much as a reaction to having been maybe a little more open than he intended to be. Careful with that fever glimmering. He comes back to this reality and his eyes pop open.

"Benz. Babe, I think you should go? Maybe crash at Sutton's for a bit, take care of her?" He is pretty certain he can keep whatever this is in check. But pretty certain is not good enough. Obviously. He looks at her silently, wanting to explain or convince her but at the same time not sure about where to start with that.

"Please?"

"Not a chance." Normally, Bennie would buckle at such an earnest request, but now more than ever her resolve flairs to keep her at his side. "So shut up and go to sleep." She is, however, swinging her legs off the side of the bed, because a little distance and privacy couldn't hurt. With her back momentarily to him, it's easy to disguise the sting of tears that are welling up in her eyes. "I'm going to shower." And it won't be the first time she's used the sound of a faucet to disguise sobs. Something tells her it won't be the last.

"The only way out of this, Marine, is through it." And with that, her weight lifts off the mattress.

Easton would very much like to protest but he's actually feeling a little woozy just now and probably not an actual danger to anyone. And so he decides to let her win this one for now, regroup and try again later.