Re: log: chicago - atticus/matt
"Could be intentional. Might have a Florence Nightingale thing going on." Watched Matt spreading out gauze and disinfectant, and Atticus wasn't sure any of it would help. Wasn't sure any of it was necessary, but was willing to let Matt do what he had to do in order to feel better. "Of course, it means you never see me at my best. I swear to you, I do have a good side." This wasn't it. Covered in sweat and burning up in a bed. For all the banter, the fever was dangerously high, and Atticus looked ill. All the joking in the world couldn't take the flush of ill-health from olive skin. Couldn't dry sweat from curls. Couldn't take the bags and lines away from Atticus' eyes. Atticus scratched at his hip. Shifted with a groan to sit up with less slouch. That was enough to wind him, and he sagged a bit once he was done. Grinned a lazy grin, even with all that. "Angry with me. That's fine. You're a warm-up for PJ, who might kill me. Janus, who probably will kill me."
Didn't take that offered arm.
Was sitting up more now, as much as he was going to manage, and Atticus didn't argue about the disinfectant. "Just want to make me sorry I did this, don't you?" That grin remained. The question was lazy. Words slow and low, born in the chest and not the throat. Intimate gravel.
Pointed to the bathroom, which was in the room. Modified at some point, since old homes had bathrooms in hallways, not in bedrooms. But the door was there, to the left. "Towels on the counter in there." Wasn't aware Matt was thinking about the complications that would come with getting on the road, but Atticus' next comment was on-topic, regardless. "Know you're going to say I should wait this out here, but can't. Don't want to be stuck out here when the new moon comes. Want to go back to Repose. Need to meet the pack leader there. Didn't even know there was one. He doesn't know PJ. PJ never mentioned him to me. Did she mention him to you?" He knew, somehow, to PJ talked to Matt more than she talked to him lately, confided more in Matt.
He glanced at the disinfectant-drenched pad in Matt's hand. "Think you're going to enjoy the fact that it hurts me. Just a little." The grin became something of a smirk, but Atticus finished kicking the blanket off his feet, and he grit his teeth. "OK. Get it over with."