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"M'fine. Fucking fine," Genma said, and reached a hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Who else is hurt? Did you get hurt? Fuck there's a huge fucking knot on the back of my head. I hit it, huh?"
Head hit explained the headache. Also the queasiness. Lying down would be good. Genma was starting to find the details of what exactly had happened on the bath becoming just slightly fuzzy.
"Did I hit my head? How come hitting your head always makes you feel like you're gonna hurl? That's such a pain in the ass. Totally unfair."
He stumbled a little, caught his balance and stared at the apartment door.
"This is my place." He sounded a little surprised to be there.
"I think Aoba-san's worst concerns are a stubbed toe," Hayate said, slowly, glancing at Aoba. "I'm not injured, it's just my knees. Same old stuff." That was the honest truth -- they hurt with every step, but that was no injury.
Hayate glanced up at Genma's apartment door, a hint of trepidation on his face. "Are you going to be able to disable the traps all right, Genma-san?" he asked cautiously. He knew Genma's apartment was trapped -- it was foolish to assume otherwise.
"Of course I can open my own door," Genma scoffed. "Why are you looking at me like that. Did I hit my head that bad? I'm fine. I'd be totally fine if Kakashi weren't such an idiot."
One trap disabled.
"My head just hurts. I have a wicked fucking headache. Do you have a headache? You look kind of off. You're not hungover are you?"
Second trap disabled.
"Ao-chan didn't take you out drinking did he? He's underage, you know. Gods I feel like crap."
Leaned against the door. Door was cool. He was tired. Head hurt. Stomach rolled and churned.
"Had to talk to that stupid cunt from Intel for two hours. Just wanted a bath."
Head hurt. Third trap disabled. The door sprung open and Genma nearly fell through it.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna puke."
"Like hell you are," Aoba said and pulled his friend out of the kid's grip. There was no way in hell three people would fit through that tiny-ass bathroom door (not that it could really be called a bathroom, bearing only a sink and a commode, but whatever.) and he'd had long practice in dragging someone off to worship at the porcelain goddess's feet.
Aoba helped Genma through the bathroom door, just in time to hike the lid of the commode up and let Genma upchuck. "And no, I didn't take the damn midget drinking, Genma," he said between Genma's hurling. Aoba chanced a look back at the dark-circled eyes of Shizuka's offspring. He was cornered.
Well, fucking fuck.
Hayate stood at the doorway to the tiny bathroom, arms crossed over his chest and a vaguely concerned look creasing his eyes. He didn't flinch as the sounds and smells of Genma's vomiting filled the air -- there were things that bothered him, but this just wasn't one of them. He clearly had other things on his mind than cornering Aoba for questioning though that would certainly come.
"You know I don't drink, Genma-san," Hayate said, his tone even and neutral, and it was true. Genma had harassed him (good-naturedly, Hayate liked to think) on a couple of occasions about it. "I'm fine. I always look like this, remember?"
One of his hands dropped down to rub at one knee. He did have a headache -- the sudden cold had done it, just like everything else -- but his knees were a bigger issue. As soon as this was all over, he was going to get a hot water bag and lie down in bed with a book or something. But Genma needed taking care of first.
He peered at Genma, the concern finally having overtaken the irritation more or less completely. "I'm going to go get his bed ready," he said, hesitantly, and started to back away from the bathroom. He normally wouldn't have bothered announcing it, but this wasn't his place.
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Aoba was busy holding Genma's hair back from his face while he finished vomiting, his other hand filling what he assumed was Genma's rinse glass with water a couple times.
See? He was a good friend, though it was a pain in the ass when everyone except Namiashi had long-as-fuck hair. "Yeah, kid," he called over his shoulder after a minute, giving Genma a chance to rinse his mouth. "That sounds like a good idea." Aoba turned his attention back to Genma making sure the pale man didn't try to puke all over his feet.
"What about you, Genma? You a little better?"
Fuuuuuuck," Genma said with feeling, and flushed away the mess. He ran water in the sink and washed his face, rinsed his mouth and spit a few more times, and was glad of Aoba's hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady.
"Yeah, better I guess. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't get on you, did it?" Puking was really just so miserable. He added Made me puke to his list of reasons that Hatake Kakashi was an unforgivable asshole.
"I think I should sit down now." Yep, astute ninja there, field medic and all. "I must of hit my head or something. Might be a little concussed."
He teetered a little, moving towards the door.
"Nah," Aoba probably had rolled his eyes, but it was hard to tell. "Nah, you didn't and, yeah, you probably are." Aoba steered him, keeping him from teetering too far to one side, straight to the bed. The older shinobi gave the kid a shrug, as if to say 'What're we gonna do?'. Genma was the damned record holder for concussions in a year. That hard head hadn't failed him yet.
Scratch that comment about his hard head, Genma got concussions like other people got laid.
"Fucking hell, man, you get more concussions then I can count, yanno it?" he laughed a little. If Genma wasn't puking, well, he'd be good. "I'm thinkin' you maybe need to keep away from wet tile. Didn't you bump your head in the shower that one time too?"
Hayate moved silently, helping Aoba get Genma to lie down on the prepared bed. As soon as Genma was horizontal on the bed, Hayate drew the covers over the older shinobi's body, tucking them almost dutifully about his shoulders.
"Are you comfortable, Genma-san?" he asked, voice almost neutral, but not quite. "Do you need for us to get you anything?"
"That was a long time ago," Genma said, scowling at Aoba. "And anyway how do you know about that? You weren't there. I haven't hit my head since... since...."
Well now there was the rub about a head injury. You couldn't actually remember the last time it had happened.
"Since before."
It was kind of cute how Hayate was tucking him in like that. Like he used to tuck Haruko in. Sing her a little song, tuck her in, tell her to have sweet dreams. Genma smiled.
"Sweet dreams." No wait, they were supposed to say that to you, not the other way around.
What had Aoba been saying about a concussion?
"You should probably wake me up in an hour or so, in case my head's broken." Of course if his head were broken they wouldn't be able to wake him up. But it was the right idea anyway.
"I know," Hayate said, almost absently (after all, Genma wasn't the only one who had been concussed before), and straightened up, pulling away from the bed. "I will -- if Aoba-san doesn't." He cast a sideways look at Aoba. Genma seemed about ready to drop off -- what would Aoba do? Stay by Genma's side, or make a wild break for it like he usually did around Hayate?
Hayate watched him carefully, attentively, waiting to see what his move would be. | |
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