|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 8:08 am
Prompt 8 As Halloween draws near, a good number of the shops at the local mall have decided to take part in the festivities by handing out candy bars and bite-sized goodies to all of the customers who stop by. You score a fair amount of sweets while you're out and about. After you consume a handful of them, though, you discover you don't feel.. quite right. You can't put your finger on why you don't feel right but soon the side effects from your candy munching come to light. When you sweat, your perspiration is noticeably brown and smells sickeningly sweet... almost like chocolate. In fact, your natural scent has seemed to take on a more sweet approach, as if you were a walking candy bar yourself. You've got no clue which shop handed out the cursed candy but the saccharine effect on you lasts for an entire day, until the candy has made it out of your system.
So while Paul Jones didn't necessarily have that much of a sweet tooth, the offer of free candy was too tempting to pass up. As he ran his errands, one of which involved picking up something Noah had ordered for their home (probably some other bullshit decoration for their house - plain walls were fine, as far as Paul was concerned), he found various workers standing outside the shops, bowls and bags of free sweets up for grabs.
He didn't take too many, relatively speaking. A few of the bite sized bars, enough to tide over the morning rumbles of his stomach but also enough to have him feeling guilty for the excessive junk food - it simply meant that he'd add on a little bit of extra work to his afternoon workout.
Only... when he started working out, he noticed something... off.
The towel he'd kept at his side next to the rack of dumbbbells drew back brown when he'd paused to wipe his brow. At first he wondered if he'd smeared something on his face but a quick jog up to the bathroom mirror revealed the horrifying truth: he was sweating literal brown color.
Worse, the brown smelled sickeningly sweet, an easy memory trigger to the sweets he'd gorged on only hours earlier.
But people didn't... folks didn't sweat ******** chocolate after eating it, that was stupid. That was impossible.
As he stood there at the mirror staring at himself, brows furrowed and chiseled jaw firm, the realization dawned on him and he felt his heart drop into his stomach.
Oh god.
Was this... was he becoming diabetic?
In a panic, his afternoon work out was abandoned and fished out the laptop he hardly used, thick fingers smashing keys as he tried to quickly draw up the internet tab. A few mis-strokes, a couple backspaces and finally he was hitting the enter key on his search and as the words flashed across the screen, Paul felt himself growing feint.
Increased hunger.
He was always so ******** hungry, christ.
Excessive thirst.
How many bottles of water had he had that morning? s**t, he couldn't remember.
Fatigue.
He was feeling pretty exhausted - ********, ********, <******** eyes continued to skim over the lists, a particular line soon catching his attention and raising even more alarm.
"When ketones rise to unsafe levels, you're at risk of a dangerous condition called diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA). Symptoms of DKA include: a sweet and fruity odor on your breath."
One large palm shoved its way in front of his face and he heaved a breath. The smell of chocolate was everywhere - he was literally breathing the scent of chocolate.
This wasn't how he wanted to die -- this wasn't how he saw himself going out. Did this mean he had to start shooting s**t up? Would he have to go to a goddamn hospital over this? He wasn't going to go to any ******** hospital - he'd rather die of this s**t before subjecting himself to that s**t again, ******** that.
Worried fingers found their way to his phone as he shot a quick, worried text to the only ******** who'd give a s**t if he died, no matter the reason.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 10:14 am
Noah had spent the day at his office.
He only had a handful of cases currently, to his annoyance, but they were decent paying at least and he was about ready to finish up his files and drop them off the clients and collect payment. In fact, he was busy jotting things down, placing photographs in appropriate spaces as he prepped his drafts when his phone buzzed on his desk.
It was face down, to keep from being distracted, but it was about time for him to pack up and head out so the ginger decided to reach over and flip it. ******** name covered his display screen and he had to unlock his phone to read the message.
There was rolling of eyes before he dropped his pen to respond to the message.
[To ******** Paulie: In about 20 minutes, what did you do?]
It was accusatory but...Paul only whiny texted him when he ******** up or when he was being needy. Noah liked to assume the first.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 10:29 am
It took a few minutes for a response to ping back to his phone. In the meantime, he busied himself by looking further into this diabetes bullshit. It looked like a bunch of crap, looked like a ********' disease that only old people or sick kids or ********' fatties got and he didn't fit any of those descriptions.
.... right?
He hadn't weighed himself in a while but he was still pretty fit, or he thought so, ******** -- so why did the candy do this to him? It was like he was exuding ******** chocolate and none of it made any goddamn sense.
Noah's curt response was grating but unsurprising. He huffed quietly to himself as he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on hitting the right keys on the smartphone.
[To Kiddo: didn't do s**t]
Pause.
[To Kiddo: wat do u kno about blood sugar s**t]
Another minute passed and he found himself making a third, more preemptive text to his spouse.
[To Kiddo: ain't going 2 no hospital, ******** telling u that rite now]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 10:38 am
Text came in spurts and Noah scowled at the way his spouse chose to write things. He knew the man's spelling was questionable at best, but that was what ******** auto-correct was ********' for. But at least the texts were legible even if he hated looking at ******** was lucky Noah loved him so much.
[To ******** Paulie: The ******** are you talking about?]
The next message came in and earned raised brows. Noah shoved everything he was working on back into their respective folders and those went into his desk drawer that he locked.
Two minutes later and he was half to his car.
[To ******** Paulie: What. The. ********. Did. You. Do.]
Perhaps overly aggressive but the hospital mention was concerning.
[Text to ******** Paulie: You're going to the hospital if you have to. I'll drag your ******** a** if I have to]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 12:33 pm
Biting his lip, one hand moved up to roughly brush against the bristles surrounding his mouth. The stench of chocolate filled his nostrils as soon as his hand drew close enough again to bounce his breath against himself and he slammed his fist on the table as an angry, irritated result.
This didn't make any sense and things that didn't make sense made Paul Jones nervous. And if the things that the Google were saying were anywhere close to being true...
Well.
Paul could take a hit like the best of them but he didn't know what the ******** to do when it came to getting sick. Injuries healed, sicknesses... sicknesses didn't always go away. Sometimes they got worse and you ********' died from them.
The angry texts were finally responded to, the older man taking a second to mull over his answer before responding:
[To Kiddo: think i might be sikc.]
[To Kiddo: sick ]
Unwanted memories were triggered and he closed his eyes, willingly banishing the thoughts of sterile corridors and beige walls away. White crisp sheets and uncomfortable pillows. Grey hospital gowns and... ******** knew better than to worry Noah and he no doubt had done just ******** that. Fingers rapidly smashed the keys and he sent one last text off.
[To Kiddo: probably nothin. don't worry about it, c u when u get home]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2018 8:28 am
Paul took long enough to reply that Noah was halfway home, because speeding, by the time he got the notifications. The angry ginger didn't bother to glance at them, knowing he was already pissy and that they'd probably just piss him off more.
So, he kept driving until he pulled into the neighborhood and his spouse would hear the sound of the garage door opening. He'd hear the sound of slamming doors too, probably a curse or too before the door that led into the house swung open and there, in an imposing shadow, was his husband's form.
"a*****e," he snapped, stalking through the house until he found Paul.
Already one hand wrapped around his beefy husband's arm to keep him still and the back of his other hand pressed against his forehead to test his temperature.
"You said you were sick, why do you think you're sick?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2018 8:25 pm
The sound of the door slamming loudly snapped him out of his trance-like stare of the laptop's bright screen. The slam was definitely much angrier than the normal slams it received. The glass window and blinds on the wood trembled and rattled from the impact, Paul's back immediately straightening up on instinct.
s**t.
Rising up from his chair as his weight alone pushed it back, he stood in time for Noah to storm his way into the room, an intimidating force of nature with bright red hair.
"Ain't got a fever, already checked," he was quick to bark back, despite the fact that he flushed very minorly at the question. Paul had, in fact, not checked - he hadn't even considered the notion of checking to see if he had a fever among any other sensible side effects one would look for when determining level of health.
He didn't like how Noah accused him of thinking he was sick. Of course he was ******** sick - wouldn't he know whether or not he had something wrong with him?
"Look." The scowl turned away from the younger Jones and reached for the towel, the plain material spattered with a visible brown color. "That came from me. From my forehead. Sweat ain't supposed to look like that, alright, and it smells like goddamn sugar, of all things."
Specifically, chocolate. But he wasn't about to bring up the fact he'd been munching the morning away on freebies handed out at the mall.
"Something's wrong with my sugar, s'gotta be."
The stoniness of his expression faltered for a moment and for a split second, the fear creeping up inside of him exposed itself.
"You don't think... cancer's not genetic, right?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 7:06 am
Paul's forehead wasn't warm and neither was his cheek, but when Noah pulled his hand away he could smell the distinct chocolaty smell on his knuckles. That was weird, but more importantly, what the ******** was his partner doing eating candy?
"What'd you eat?" He asked, his tone softer after watching the way his spouse's demeanor changed. Stormy eyes glanced over at the rag and he ran his finger over the dried brown spots while his face contorted with speculation.
"Depends on the cancer," he replied, everything about him softening as he lowered his hands to grab a hold of Paul's waist and tug him towards him. "You feeling weird in any other way baby?" His forehead pressed against his husband's and his eyes closed, shoving thoughts about their hospital visits with mama.
He also shoved away thoughts of the other incident that had them back in a hospital after he'd left for school.
"If it's serious, we gotta go to the hospital Paulie, I know you don't like 'em but..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 9:01 am
Paul bit the inside of his cheek at the inquiry, knowing he'd have to fess up sooner than later about it. "Had the same breakfast as you. Grabbed a couple of free candy pieces from the mall when I went to pick up the pre-ordered s**t, y'know, Halloween crap folks had out."
His body wavered a little bit, the tension slowly relaxing against the warm, solid feeling of Noah's pressing against his. "Went to work out, usual s**t. Saw the towel and freaked."
The answer he received about the big C wasn't what he was hoping to hear. He was hoping to have his worries banished away, that he was speaking nonsense and that this was just some crazy allergic reaction or something and not an issue that might develop into something more disastrous in the long run.
If he was gonna die, it was gonna be on his own terms - not withering away in some bed like a livin' corpse.
"I'm fine otherwise, I swear." One hand gestured back towards the still-open laptop. "S'just got a little worked up reading s**t."
The desperation was clear in his voice as his other hand curled its way around the ginger, tightening in such a way as if to silently say he was refusing to let go. He ******** hated hospitals, he knew they both did. No good memories came from the goddamn place and he'd avoid going back as long as he could but he knew that Noah wasn't exactly wrong with his insistence.
"Can we give it a few days, at least? See what happens?"
Then, a little quieter, a little more desperate:"Please?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 10:49 am
"Maybe there was something in the candy," Noah mumbled, grabbing the rag and running the clean-ish side along his husband's skin to clean up any access if they could manage it. Lips pressed against his temple, sweetness clinging in a manner that had him licking them to try and rid himself of the flavor.
He wasn't one for sweets really. That was Paul's deal, not his.
"Two days, if this s**t isn't over in two days your a** is going to the hospital. No if ands or buts about it." Noah was being lenient as far as he was concerned. He didn't want to push it off any further, worried they'd ignore all the signs like they had with mama.
"C'mon Paulie, let's get you a bath and then see how you're feeling." Noah's lips were against the man's scruffy neck, kissing him to soothe his clearly frayed nerves.
"We'll see how sick you are if you can't get it up for play time, mkay?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 12:53 pm
Noah seemed less than thrilled at Paul's new flavor and the big guy did his best to not let his reaction show as Noah struggled with removing the taste from his mouth. The two day warning was issued and the dark haired man knew there would be no arguing. Forty-eight hours to get rid of this sickeningly sweet situation or he'd be in for a miserable afternoon, no doubt, at the hospital.
"Told you, feel fine otherwise."
As if to prove his point (or hopefully further convince the younger Jones that he most certainly did not need to be dragging the burly man off to a minor med or hospital), he leaned down and swept the grown man off of his feet, one arm behind his back while the other tucked itself beneath his knees.
"See? Normal, for the most part. Just a bit sweeter than usual, s'all."
He leaned in to kiss his spouse but, remembering his reaction only moments earlier after kissing the older man's temple, pulled back and begrudgingly refrained from forcing the other man to endure a kiss on the lips.
The straight line that made up his mouth tilted down into a frown but he did his best to shrug it off as he made his way towards the staircase, the upstairs bathroom his next stop.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 1:36 pm
He wouldn't admit it, but there was something very attractive about the fact that his spouse could so effortlessly pick him up. He much preferred to be carried in a different manner than bridal style, but he wasn't going to complain much since it seemed like Paul was feeling better.
Or at the very least, he seemed less freaked out.
The lack of a kiss was disappointing, but he knew that they'd make up for it later, after the bath. Or during. Or right before.
It didn't matter, Noah would be getting a kiss. Noah always got what he wanted.
And what Noah wanted mostly was to make sure his husband wasn't sick, so they were going to start with the bath.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
