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The detective had apparently slept through the alarm, Algie getting up himself and showering, before he woke the other man up. The professor, in a way only he could bully Jeremiah, had ordered the other to the shower while he cooked something.

Then he would have a look at Jeremiah's injuries.

Luckily it turned out that he kept a change of clothing in his car, something Algie went and got for him, and when he finally walked into the kitchen - the table had an assortment of first aid supplies - he had a clean pair of slacks on. Jeremiah was rubbing the towel at his hair, letting it drop to his shoulders as he sat down in one of the chairs.

Not leaning back into it and not wearing a shirt (that illusive tattoo somewhat visible for a change). Not with his back needing to be looked at.

"Smells good," he commented, leaning forward and watching as Algie moved around the kitchen. Never mind the stomach rumble that echoed. Real food after a few days of other ashdown bland things? This might be heaven. Also his brain had not really, truly gotten back up to running speed yet.

Jeremiah, as usual, did not miss a beat and flipped him off at the mention of restaurant food. "More like I'm eating nothing but ridiculous things for the next week." Algie himself was more than a decent cook from the years of being around Jeremiah. Though sometimes they got into arguments about meat not needing to be in everything (and sometimes the same thing about potatoes).

The other man was one of the few that could lay a hand on him and expect the directions to be followed. Jeremiah head bowed and he let out a huff of breath.

"It doesn't feel right," he responded. "The shower actually felt like it was warming it up." The detective paused, hands rubbing along his thighs a moment (don't think about Algie's hands). The burns could have been worse, or perhaps they had healed some who knew, but they were along the taller man's spine. The skin red, irritated, and only in a few places did it look like it blistered or that skin was damaged. The layers he had worn of clothing had saved him somewhat.

He did not quite know how to explain that it felt as if there was a chill. Something he could not quite get rid off. Even the shower had only temporarily worked.

Jeremiah hissed, hands squeezing his own thigh because Algie pushing and pulling at the skin hurt. It was enough to stop him from talking, to steal a few breaths from him. The detective let out a snort at not a doctor. No, Algie had always been a bit of a rough nurse.

He had been patched up often enough and -

- there it was.

This was an old problem. One that frequently lead to fights and Jeremiah getting his arse handed to him by the other man when he reminded him, quite forcefully, that he could take care of himself. If he was honest he knew better.

The injured man was quiet for a time, letting Algie apply some of the cream. His shoulders slumped slightly, more to do with the shift in mood than him leaning forward. Eyes were closed, counting breaths and telling himself that Algie was right.

"I know," quiet, "I'm sorry." His chest was tight again, much how it had been when they had landed on each other. At least until the situation had diffused and they had gone back to more comfortable places. Jeremiah shifted a little, another hiss of breath, and smoothed a hand across his face.

"You're more than capable, I just ..." am absolutely terrified of you dying and not being able to do a thing about it.

"I'm thickheaded, what can I say," Jeremiah sighed, taking another breath and then trying to not let out a hiss of pained breath whenever Algie was applying the cream.

They were burns but along his spine it felt cold and it was only the quick touch of Algie's fingers that took away from it briefly. The cream was cooling against his skin and not comfortable but it would help. It was supposed to help.

"Oi," he raised his head briefly, only to feel Algie's hand still on his neck and lowered it back down, "part of the battered and beaten came from you." Which he had deserved because spooking the other was a terrible idea. It always was.

His fingers gripped at his thigh. A knot tightly wound in his chest and he did not know what to do with it. Which direction to go. "I didn't throw myself at the bloody ******** radical pacifist slenderdeer." A breath. A snort of annoyance because ******** if he wished he knew nothing about Slenderman. "It could have been you or me that ended up burned, I know you thought the same thing I said." The cold heat was still there in his memory and he felt it suddenly along his spine. As if it was there again, sharp and biting cold in pain as a reminder. He had, ultimately, no regrets that it had been him and not Alg because he could not live with the idea of the other getting hurt.

Not right now.

Not with his head and his heart and everything a mess.

If he could stop it, he would. Jeremiah's fingers were clutching at his trouser leg, at his thighs. "When you are involved I am always a ******** idiot." His eyes were shut, head bowed and shoulders tense. "I don't even know if ..." ... if Algie would have been able to do what he had done; the magic that had saved him. It was his, he knew that, but Algie was always thickheaded and resistant to change. Jeremiah was always adapting, changing (sometimes running) and sometimes why they fought.

"I'm a ******** idiot," he repeated instead of finishing his sentence. Mostly because if he could ever get out the proper words maybe things would go differently.

Jeremiah growled, an honest to goodness growl, at the mentioning of dirty laundry. It was enough to distract him again and refocus his thoughts another direction. "I know that, for ******** sake. I also know that you've got every right to ******** mad with me because after thirty some odd years I am still over ******** protective of you!" His fingers loosened, blood returning to his knuckles.

The detective's head was still bowed, his shoulders still tense. "I have no plans on leaving Zac alone." He was already Zac's legal guardian and he, whether there had been talk or not, been looking into possible adoption. Jeremiah had no plans for heirs, for obvious reasons and ...

His head finally raised up at Algie's muttering, his cheeks turning just the faintest bit pink. Anger had not caught him but that? That did cause a faint ruddy red to flood his face. "Alg, I ..." he started, then blinked when the other man was blowing right on to his injuries. The chill was hard to ignore, especially when there was pain to go along with it.

"I know, it feels cold. The hot water helped some and your hands as well and ..." The silver-haired blink, raised head turning to look over his shoulder. Jeremiah hissed as it pulled at the burns. "I don't," a huff, "know that that is even possible."

His head tilted back forward, then bowed once more. Some of the tension in his shoulders was gone. "I don't like it but it's not surprising." Not with there being magic involved. Jesus.

This entire conversation was yanking Jeremiah one direction and then another. His stomach was in knots, not just because of the chill that would not go away. Jeremiah raised a hand, waved it in the air for Algie to proceed.

The other man usually with a knowledge about first aid than himself (not that he did not know himself, just that Algie had spent a fair amount of time patching him back together).

He shivered, the temperature difference between Algie's hand, the bandages, and something curling uncomfortably in his stomach.

"That you're not really a rough nurse?" he ventured, glancing out of the corner of his eye towards Algie.

Jeremiah was not expecting the sudden sensation, a drop in his stomach. He turned with a hiss, his back protesting the movement and dislodging some of the bandaging, to instead catch the whack to side of his head.

It stung lightly, the detective growling under his breath. His hand reached up to grab Algie's wrist before he pulled back too far. "Alg." A huff, fingers closing around the other man's wrist. "Do you think we could stop hitting me in the head for a bit? I need what is left of my brain to not be rattled so that I can actually talk to you."

Except saying that meant he was rattled.