Fiction: Sick Day
Title: Sick Day
Author: S> Wynter
Fandom: Human Target
Pairing: Chance/Guerrero
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Human Target, and I am not making any money from this story. Do not sue, I am broke anyway.
Summary: Guerrero has a head cold…
As soon as Christopher Chance woke up he knew something was wrong, not the ‘there is a gunmen in the apartment’ wrong, or ‘there is something not right about the job’ wrong, just a sense of wrongness he couldn’t figure out. He rolled over and instantly regretted it. It was rare that his lover spent the night, well the entire night, after a job was finished it was almost a given they would be at it like rabbits, but normally afterwards he would leave. It was just the way Guerrero was and Chance just took it in stride. It wasn’t like he didn’t have some intimacy issues himself after all.
Now Guerrero was an infamously light sleeper, and did not take to being woken up well so Chance was prepared to get bitched at, but Guerrero didn’t budge. He just muttered something nonsensical in his sleep and shivered slightly; Chance noticed he was sweating. With a carefulness he reserved for working with explosives, he touched Guerrero’s forehead and was shocked at how warm he was. He had been a little tired last night and sneezed a few times, but nothing to hint at being sick.
Chance wasn’t really sure what to do; he didn’t know if he should try to wake Guerrero up and get some medicine into him or just let him sleep. Guerrero shivered again, so Chance stood up and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and gently laid it on top of him. He went over to the medicine cabinet to see what cold medicine he had.
Well he didn’t think that an out of date bottle of NyQuil was going to do much good. He would have to make a run to the drug store. What did his mother used to do when he was sick? Plenty of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and hot Earl Grey tea. He grabbed his pajama pants from the back of his bathroom door and went out into the kitchen. He checked those cabinets and saw about ten cups of ramen noodles, a jar of peanut butter, a bag of brown rice, three boxes of strawberry Jell-O and a container of hot chocolate mix he kept on hand for Guerrero, the man did have a bit of a sweet tooth.
No tea, no chicken noodle soup, nothing remotely resembling ‘get well soon’ food. He would have to run to the super market why he was out. Wonderful. While it was true that Christopher Chance had no trouble going extraordinary things, flying a commercial plane that was on fire for example, he had plenty of trouble doing ordinary things, which is why his refrigerator was full of take away food. He would rather take on three well armed, highly trained assassins than try to navigate a super market on Sunday morning.
Sounds from the bedroom yanked Chance out of his thoughts, he went back in and saw Guerrero half sitting up, his left hand holding his head. “What the hell did I drink last night?” Guerrero asked, his voice sounded raw.
“You have a fever,” Chance said, “so I’m pretty sure you have a cold.”
“A cold? I never get sick,” he argued and sneezed.
“Well you are now, so lay back down and try to get some rest.”
“You going in without me? Are you insane, that just leaves Winston and lets face it…”
“I’m not going into the office. Winston probably isn’t even there yet. I’ll call him while I’m out.”
“And say what? ‘You know Winston, I’ve been screwing Guerrero and he has a stupid cold so he fell asleep at my place last night. Sorry won’t be in.’?”
“Actually shouldn’t it be Guerrero is screwing me?”
“I’d have a good retort but the room is starting to spin.”
“Then lay back down already, I’ll make you some hot chocolate and you can sleep while run out.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
“Quick run to the store that’s all. I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”
“You hate going to the store…”
“I also hate disarming bombs, but I do that to.”
Guerrero laid back down and turned on his side, away from Chance, meaning the conversation was over.
Chance went back out to the kitchen, made the hot chocolate and grabbed a Motrin from the medicine cabinet. He sat down on the bed next to Guerrero and poked him lightly, “Ok, come on, time for some meds.”
“I am not a child,” he muttered, but rolled over and took the tablet, and swallowed it. He took the mug from Chance’s hand and took a sip of the hot liquid before sitting it on the nightstand and lying on his back. Chance smiled as he stood up to go take a shower, before reaching the bathroom he heard, “What are you going to tell Winston?”
“That I have some errands to run and I don’t feel like coming in today; of course he’ll assume I’m hung over, which I normally am when I use that excuse.”
Shopping trips were typically disastrous, but this one topped them all. He couldn’t find a parking space, the pharmacy’s computer system was down so he had to drive to the other pharmacy… and come to find out you can buy NyQuil at the super market. He picked up a few cans of the noodle soup and some saltine crackers, but ran into trouble again when he finally found the ‘tea aisle’ they were out of Earl Grey. There were a variety of other choices and plenty of other tea companies so he looked at each carefully. He had no clue, then he saw Lemon herbal tea with Vitamin C added and decided to try that. He had some sugar packets at home somewhere to sweeten it up if need be.
He headed to the check out and called Winston on his mobile phone. “Hey, Winston, it’s Chance,” he said, making his voice rough sounding.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” he said, “you don’t sound so good.”
“I feel fine, really, hey, I don’t think I will be in today. I have some errands to run, I’m at the super market right now actually.”
“You are a terrible liar, you’d rather do ten rounds with a rabid grizzly bear than go anywhere near a supermarket. Feel better and drink plenty of water. I have an interview this afternoon and I will need to talk to you in morning, ok?”
“Promise. See ya.”
“Keep away from the Absolut, ok?” Winston asked as he hung up. Mission accomplished.
As soon as Chance came home he went to the bedroom and found it empty. He heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom. He dropped the bags off in the kitchen and filled a mug with hot water and put it in the microwave for three minutes. He went back to the bedroom, and changed the sweaty sheets; by the time he finished making the tea Guerrero came out of the bathroom, dressed in his boxers, but wearing one of Chance’s undershirts. Would have been a very tempting look on him but he was looking like hell. “What’s that?” he asked pointing to the mug.
“I made you some tea and I want you to drink it. I also have some NyQuil for you to take. You’ll sleep the rest of the day away and feel better tomorrow morning.”
“There is no NyQuil in the bathroom, I checked.”
“I went out and bought some, there is some chicken noodle soup and saltines for dinner if you are up to it later.”
“You went out and… why?”
“You are sick and I’d do anything for you.”
“You are getting sentimental again,” Guerrero sighed.
“Sue me, you want the NyQuil or not? Get back into bed.”
“Yes, Sir,” he mocked saluted and then sneezed again, “I feel like shit.”
“Then stop arguing with me, get back into bed, drink some of this tea and take your medicine. You can give me all the hell you want to when you feel better.”
“Sentimental and bossy,” he muttered, “fine, fine, I’m going.”
“Keep this up and you will be spending your evenings with your right hand.”
“I’m left handed actually,” he smirking as he crawled under the covers.
“Just drink your meds,” Chance said as he opened the bottle of NyQuil, poured a dose and handed it to Guerrero.
He downed the black/green liquid and grimaced, “All the bad taste of cheap Scotch and none of the burn.”
“Try this,” Chance said, giving him the tea, “and be careful, it’s hot.”
“Feels warm, my fingers feel like icicles; if I wasn’t afraid you’d catch this then I’d suggest a few ways to help warm me up.”
Chance smiled and kissed Guerrero on the forehead, “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Maybe curl up and watch TV?”
Chance made himself a cup of the lemon tea and it was amazingly good, he had a feeling he would need the extra C himself, since he laid in bed and watched television with Guerrero, who sneezed, blew his nose bitch and moaned for a good part of an hour before dozing off. He regretted the fact that Guerrero had to have a cold in order to spend an entire non-work day with him, but they almost acted like a normal couple. Not that he and Guerrero were a couple. They were…
Complicated?
Yeah, something like that.
There was a CSI marathon on, and he lost himself in the storylines. He didn’t look at the clock until he went to the bathroom, it was 6pm. He decided to make dinner. He warmed up two cans of noodle soup on the stove and took out two soup mugs and spoons. He didn’t know if it would be better to wake Guerrero up and have him eat in bed or bring him out into the kitchen. No, having him eat in bed would make him feel like an invalid. Either way would involve waking him up…
“Hey, what time is it?”
Or not. Guerrero walked into the kitchen, wearing Chance’s terry cloth robe, but didn’t have his glasses. His sight wasn’t that terrible, but he rarely went anywhere without his glasses. Maybe he was feeling worse? Should he talk him to a doctor? “Dinner time,” Chance replied, “you feel hungry.”
“Not really, but I bet mother Chance is going to make me eat something before I go.”
“Go?”
“Chance, I’ve been here all day…”
“And you are sick. Are you really in any condition to drive home? Safely.”
“Yes, sure, I’m fine.”
“Would you let me drive home in your condition?”
There was a slight pause as he sat down at the kitchen table, but replied, “Of course I would.”
“That’s bull and you know it,” he said, pouring the soup carefully from the pot into the two mugs, making a bit of a mess, “I could take you…”
“No. Thank you.”
Chance had never been to Guerrero’s home, he had no clue where the man lived, although he had a suspicion it was close by. He just shrugged off the refusal and set down the mugs and the spoons down on the kitchen table. He sat across from Guerrero and started to eat. “I… appreciate everything you did for me today,” he said quietly, “I know I’m a mess.”
“You are my friend that is what friends are for,” Chance grimaced, “man that sounded corny.”
“Just a bit, dude, but still… thanks.”
“You do look a lot better.”
“Probably one of those 24 hour deals. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow morning, ready to go back into the office and help get your butt out of the sling.”
“I always feel better when you are in the office.”
“I got your back, don’t worry,” he picked up the mug and drank his soup, “man that good, I haven’t had this in… I cannot remember when.”
Chance smiled and eat his own soup. The silence was companionable and comfortable, like it always was. They finished the meal quickly and Chance put the dishes in the dishwasher and started it. He expected Guerrero to just get up and leave, but instead he sat at the kitchen table staring off into space, he grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table and blew his nose again. “Ok, this being sick thing is now getting old.”
“Look, I have an idea. It’s almost time for another dose of NyQuil, why don’t you go take a really hot shower to break up the stuff in your head, take another round of meds and crash here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to dri…”
“No, why are you sleeping on the couch?”
“You said you like to sleep alone…”
“But this is your apartment.”
“And you need to rest.”
“I don’t have the energy to argue with you,” he got up from the table and grabbed another napkin, “I’ll jump in the shower. Oh and by the way, I’m stealing this robe and no you cannot have it back.”
“Good night, Guerrero.”
After he cleaned up the kitchen he changed into his pajamas and sat on the couch. Chance was amazingly tired for not really doing much all day. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as soon as Guerrero got out of the bathroom and laid down on the couch and closed his eyes…
“Babe, wake up, come on Chance, wake up for me.”
“Mmmm…. What’s going on?”
“It’s 8 o’clock, and time for bed. And no buts, you’ve won every disagreement we’ve had today and I demand to win this one. You are coming to bed with me.”
“I’m fine here.”
“And have a stiff neck and back in the morning. Forget it.” Chance felt a hand pick up his and a gentle tug on his arm, “come on, babe, just do this for me, ok?”
“Mmmmm ok,” Chance said as he slowly stood up, still half asleep and let Guerrero lead him into the bedroom.
Chance woke up laying on his stomach, facing the other side of the bed. Just as he thought, Guerrero was gone. He reached out to feel if there was any heat left on the sheets, but there wasn’t. It was like he was never there. It took him a few minutes to get out of bed, he was tired and his body ached a little; probably from sleeping a few hours on the couch. Chance got up, showered, dressed and went into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee waiting for him, but no note. He drank a cup, flipped through the mail he dropped on the counter two nights before and it was nothing but the usual junk mail. He turned off the coffeepot before heading to the office.
Winston was the office, working on his lap top; he looked up only a moment, “Glad to see you made it in today. Sit down, we have a possible case. Guerrero is in the back making a cup of tea of all things. Has a sore throat or something.”
“I never knew Guerrero to get sick,” Chance said and sneezed, he grabbed a tissue from Winston’s desk and blew his nose. Crap. Oh great.
“Great, now you’ve caught something, I guess I’m next.”
Guerrero walked out of the back with two cups of tea and handed one to Chance, “I had a feeling you were going to need this.”
“Thanks,” Chance said as he took a sip, it was the exact same tea he bought for Guerrero yesterday.
“It’s a 24 hour bug,” Guerrero explained to Winston, “he’s gonna feel like crap today, but will feel more human tomorrow.”
“And how do you know it’s a 24 hour bug? Are you a psychic doctor now?”
“Geez, Winston, who do you think gave it to him?” Guerrero asked, turning to Chance, “ok, dude, revenge time. You sit down, drink your tea and you, Winston, hurry up with the possible case debriefing, I want to get him home before he gets a fever.”
“Revenge? Gave it to him? What?”
“Don’t ask,” Chance said, “so what’s the case…”
Author: S> Wynter
Fandom: Human Target
Pairing: Chance/Guerrero
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Human Target, and I am not making any money from this story. Do not sue, I am broke anyway.
Summary: Guerrero has a head cold…
As soon as Christopher Chance woke up he knew something was wrong, not the ‘there is a gunmen in the apartment’ wrong, or ‘there is something not right about the job’ wrong, just a sense of wrongness he couldn’t figure out. He rolled over and instantly regretted it. It was rare that his lover spent the night, well the entire night, after a job was finished it was almost a given they would be at it like rabbits, but normally afterwards he would leave. It was just the way Guerrero was and Chance just took it in stride. It wasn’t like he didn’t have some intimacy issues himself after all.
Now Guerrero was an infamously light sleeper, and did not take to being woken up well so Chance was prepared to get bitched at, but Guerrero didn’t budge. He just muttered something nonsensical in his sleep and shivered slightly; Chance noticed he was sweating. With a carefulness he reserved for working with explosives, he touched Guerrero’s forehead and was shocked at how warm he was. He had been a little tired last night and sneezed a few times, but nothing to hint at being sick.
Chance wasn’t really sure what to do; he didn’t know if he should try to wake Guerrero up and get some medicine into him or just let him sleep. Guerrero shivered again, so Chance stood up and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and gently laid it on top of him. He went over to the medicine cabinet to see what cold medicine he had.
Well he didn’t think that an out of date bottle of NyQuil was going to do much good. He would have to make a run to the drug store. What did his mother used to do when he was sick? Plenty of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and hot Earl Grey tea. He grabbed his pajama pants from the back of his bathroom door and went out into the kitchen. He checked those cabinets and saw about ten cups of ramen noodles, a jar of peanut butter, a bag of brown rice, three boxes of strawberry Jell-O and a container of hot chocolate mix he kept on hand for Guerrero, the man did have a bit of a sweet tooth.
No tea, no chicken noodle soup, nothing remotely resembling ‘get well soon’ food. He would have to run to the super market why he was out. Wonderful. While it was true that Christopher Chance had no trouble going extraordinary things, flying a commercial plane that was on fire for example, he had plenty of trouble doing ordinary things, which is why his refrigerator was full of take away food. He would rather take on three well armed, highly trained assassins than try to navigate a super market on Sunday morning.
Sounds from the bedroom yanked Chance out of his thoughts, he went back in and saw Guerrero half sitting up, his left hand holding his head. “What the hell did I drink last night?” Guerrero asked, his voice sounded raw.
“You have a fever,” Chance said, “so I’m pretty sure you have a cold.”
“A cold? I never get sick,” he argued and sneezed.
“Well you are now, so lay back down and try to get some rest.”
“You going in without me? Are you insane, that just leaves Winston and lets face it…”
“I’m not going into the office. Winston probably isn’t even there yet. I’ll call him while I’m out.”
“And say what? ‘You know Winston, I’ve been screwing Guerrero and he has a stupid cold so he fell asleep at my place last night. Sorry won’t be in.’?”
“Actually shouldn’t it be Guerrero is screwing me?”
“I’d have a good retort but the room is starting to spin.”
“Then lay back down already, I’ll make you some hot chocolate and you can sleep while run out.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
“Quick run to the store that’s all. I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”
“You hate going to the store…”
“I also hate disarming bombs, but I do that to.”
Guerrero laid back down and turned on his side, away from Chance, meaning the conversation was over.
Chance went back out to the kitchen, made the hot chocolate and grabbed a Motrin from the medicine cabinet. He sat down on the bed next to Guerrero and poked him lightly, “Ok, come on, time for some meds.”
“I am not a child,” he muttered, but rolled over and took the tablet, and swallowed it. He took the mug from Chance’s hand and took a sip of the hot liquid before sitting it on the nightstand and lying on his back. Chance smiled as he stood up to go take a shower, before reaching the bathroom he heard, “What are you going to tell Winston?”
“That I have some errands to run and I don’t feel like coming in today; of course he’ll assume I’m hung over, which I normally am when I use that excuse.”
Shopping trips were typically disastrous, but this one topped them all. He couldn’t find a parking space, the pharmacy’s computer system was down so he had to drive to the other pharmacy… and come to find out you can buy NyQuil at the super market. He picked up a few cans of the noodle soup and some saltine crackers, but ran into trouble again when he finally found the ‘tea aisle’ they were out of Earl Grey. There were a variety of other choices and plenty of other tea companies so he looked at each carefully. He had no clue, then he saw Lemon herbal tea with Vitamin C added and decided to try that. He had some sugar packets at home somewhere to sweeten it up if need be.
He headed to the check out and called Winston on his mobile phone. “Hey, Winston, it’s Chance,” he said, making his voice rough sounding.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” he said, “you don’t sound so good.”
“I feel fine, really, hey, I don’t think I will be in today. I have some errands to run, I’m at the super market right now actually.”
“You are a terrible liar, you’d rather do ten rounds with a rabid grizzly bear than go anywhere near a supermarket. Feel better and drink plenty of water. I have an interview this afternoon and I will need to talk to you in morning, ok?”
“Promise. See ya.”
“Keep away from the Absolut, ok?” Winston asked as he hung up. Mission accomplished.
As soon as Chance came home he went to the bedroom and found it empty. He heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom. He dropped the bags off in the kitchen and filled a mug with hot water and put it in the microwave for three minutes. He went back to the bedroom, and changed the sweaty sheets; by the time he finished making the tea Guerrero came out of the bathroom, dressed in his boxers, but wearing one of Chance’s undershirts. Would have been a very tempting look on him but he was looking like hell. “What’s that?” he asked pointing to the mug.
“I made you some tea and I want you to drink it. I also have some NyQuil for you to take. You’ll sleep the rest of the day away and feel better tomorrow morning.”
“There is no NyQuil in the bathroom, I checked.”
“I went out and bought some, there is some chicken noodle soup and saltines for dinner if you are up to it later.”
“You went out and… why?”
“You are sick and I’d do anything for you.”
“You are getting sentimental again,” Guerrero sighed.
“Sue me, you want the NyQuil or not? Get back into bed.”
“Yes, Sir,” he mocked saluted and then sneezed again, “I feel like shit.”
“Then stop arguing with me, get back into bed, drink some of this tea and take your medicine. You can give me all the hell you want to when you feel better.”
“Sentimental and bossy,” he muttered, “fine, fine, I’m going.”
“Keep this up and you will be spending your evenings with your right hand.”
“I’m left handed actually,” he smirking as he crawled under the covers.
“Just drink your meds,” Chance said as he opened the bottle of NyQuil, poured a dose and handed it to Guerrero.
He downed the black/green liquid and grimaced, “All the bad taste of cheap Scotch and none of the burn.”
“Try this,” Chance said, giving him the tea, “and be careful, it’s hot.”
“Feels warm, my fingers feel like icicles; if I wasn’t afraid you’d catch this then I’d suggest a few ways to help warm me up.”
Chance smiled and kissed Guerrero on the forehead, “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Maybe curl up and watch TV?”
Chance made himself a cup of the lemon tea and it was amazingly good, he had a feeling he would need the extra C himself, since he laid in bed and watched television with Guerrero, who sneezed, blew his nose bitch and moaned for a good part of an hour before dozing off. He regretted the fact that Guerrero had to have a cold in order to spend an entire non-work day with him, but they almost acted like a normal couple. Not that he and Guerrero were a couple. They were…
Complicated?
Yeah, something like that.
There was a CSI marathon on, and he lost himself in the storylines. He didn’t look at the clock until he went to the bathroom, it was 6pm. He decided to make dinner. He warmed up two cans of noodle soup on the stove and took out two soup mugs and spoons. He didn’t know if it would be better to wake Guerrero up and have him eat in bed or bring him out into the kitchen. No, having him eat in bed would make him feel like an invalid. Either way would involve waking him up…
“Hey, what time is it?”
Or not. Guerrero walked into the kitchen, wearing Chance’s terry cloth robe, but didn’t have his glasses. His sight wasn’t that terrible, but he rarely went anywhere without his glasses. Maybe he was feeling worse? Should he talk him to a doctor? “Dinner time,” Chance replied, “you feel hungry.”
“Not really, but I bet mother Chance is going to make me eat something before I go.”
“Go?”
“Chance, I’ve been here all day…”
“And you are sick. Are you really in any condition to drive home? Safely.”
“Yes, sure, I’m fine.”
“Would you let me drive home in your condition?”
There was a slight pause as he sat down at the kitchen table, but replied, “Of course I would.”
“That’s bull and you know it,” he said, pouring the soup carefully from the pot into the two mugs, making a bit of a mess, “I could take you…”
“No. Thank you.”
Chance had never been to Guerrero’s home, he had no clue where the man lived, although he had a suspicion it was close by. He just shrugged off the refusal and set down the mugs and the spoons down on the kitchen table. He sat across from Guerrero and started to eat. “I… appreciate everything you did for me today,” he said quietly, “I know I’m a mess.”
“You are my friend that is what friends are for,” Chance grimaced, “man that sounded corny.”
“Just a bit, dude, but still… thanks.”
“You do look a lot better.”
“Probably one of those 24 hour deals. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow morning, ready to go back into the office and help get your butt out of the sling.”
“I always feel better when you are in the office.”
“I got your back, don’t worry,” he picked up the mug and drank his soup, “man that good, I haven’t had this in… I cannot remember when.”
Chance smiled and eat his own soup. The silence was companionable and comfortable, like it always was. They finished the meal quickly and Chance put the dishes in the dishwasher and started it. He expected Guerrero to just get up and leave, but instead he sat at the kitchen table staring off into space, he grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table and blew his nose again. “Ok, this being sick thing is now getting old.”
“Look, I have an idea. It’s almost time for another dose of NyQuil, why don’t you go take a really hot shower to break up the stuff in your head, take another round of meds and crash here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to dri…”
“No, why are you sleeping on the couch?”
“You said you like to sleep alone…”
“But this is your apartment.”
“And you need to rest.”
“I don’t have the energy to argue with you,” he got up from the table and grabbed another napkin, “I’ll jump in the shower. Oh and by the way, I’m stealing this robe and no you cannot have it back.”
“Good night, Guerrero.”
After he cleaned up the kitchen he changed into his pajamas and sat on the couch. Chance was amazingly tired for not really doing much all day. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as soon as Guerrero got out of the bathroom and laid down on the couch and closed his eyes…
“Babe, wake up, come on Chance, wake up for me.”
“Mmmm…. What’s going on?”
“It’s 8 o’clock, and time for bed. And no buts, you’ve won every disagreement we’ve had today and I demand to win this one. You are coming to bed with me.”
“I’m fine here.”
“And have a stiff neck and back in the morning. Forget it.” Chance felt a hand pick up his and a gentle tug on his arm, “come on, babe, just do this for me, ok?”
“Mmmmm ok,” Chance said as he slowly stood up, still half asleep and let Guerrero lead him into the bedroom.
Chance woke up laying on his stomach, facing the other side of the bed. Just as he thought, Guerrero was gone. He reached out to feel if there was any heat left on the sheets, but there wasn’t. It was like he was never there. It took him a few minutes to get out of bed, he was tired and his body ached a little; probably from sleeping a few hours on the couch. Chance got up, showered, dressed and went into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee waiting for him, but no note. He drank a cup, flipped through the mail he dropped on the counter two nights before and it was nothing but the usual junk mail. He turned off the coffeepot before heading to the office.
Winston was the office, working on his lap top; he looked up only a moment, “Glad to see you made it in today. Sit down, we have a possible case. Guerrero is in the back making a cup of tea of all things. Has a sore throat or something.”
“I never knew Guerrero to get sick,” Chance said and sneezed, he grabbed a tissue from Winston’s desk and blew his nose. Crap. Oh great.
“Great, now you’ve caught something, I guess I’m next.”
Guerrero walked out of the back with two cups of tea and handed one to Chance, “I had a feeling you were going to need this.”
“Thanks,” Chance said as he took a sip, it was the exact same tea he bought for Guerrero yesterday.
“It’s a 24 hour bug,” Guerrero explained to Winston, “he’s gonna feel like crap today, but will feel more human tomorrow.”
“And how do you know it’s a 24 hour bug? Are you a psychic doctor now?”
“Geez, Winston, who do you think gave it to him?” Guerrero asked, turning to Chance, “ok, dude, revenge time. You sit down, drink your tea and you, Winston, hurry up with the possible case debriefing, I want to get him home before he gets a fever.”
“Revenge? Gave it to him? What?”
“Don’t ask,” Chance said, “so what’s the case…”