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[shitknickers]

This is a generic Jakepost to reply to. Because the meme post was all Jake and has some inconceivable amount of comments now so it doesn't like to load. Have at, my lovelies.

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[shitknickers]

Eventually his dozing became an actual nap, though fitful as it was one might question the nature of its restfulness. Something like twenty minutes into Dirk's tiptapping at his laptop, with Jake having been entirely still for about fifteen of those minutes, he started twitching, rolling further onto his side toward the wall as though shrinking away from something.

[shitknickers]

It's a little longer than Jade's estimate, almost six full hours later that Jake made his way upstairs. He was tired and crampy and his stomach muscles hurt from earlier, so he went straight for the bathroom where he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. While it heated up he brushed his teeth for a good ten minutes to get rid of the taste of regurgitated stew and undigested pie, and then spent a good thirty minutes in the shower. He sat down for a while and just sort of enjoyed the warmth before he actually got up to wash his hair and body, and came out damp, pinkish-skinned from heat, and fresh-smelling.

Much better.

He scrubbed his hair mostly dry with a towel that he then wrapped around his waist, and Becquerel met him in the hallway with a concerned whine. He crouched down and scritched at the dog's fluffy face.

"Sorry, Bec," he whispered in the darkness. "Must have given you all a scare with that. Hasn't happened in a while." Satisfied that Jake was okay after giving him a good once-over sniff, Bec gurgled in a happy manner and wandered back into Jade's room. Jake stood and made his way carefully to his own bedroom, opening and closing the door carefully. He smiled, happy to see that Dirk was actually sleeping. A pair of boxers later, he was crawling into bed behind Dirk, wasting no time in engulfing him in a hug.

[shitknickers]

Jade and Becquerel had both helped Jake get Dirk inside, by taking the three bags the islander tried to juggle along with the unconscious body of his-- boyfriend? Were they boyfriends? They'd gone ahead and set Dirk up in Jake's bed since it was big enough to accommodate them both and Jade figured the body heat (she'd only made a few suggestive rise-and-falls of her eyebrows) of sharing a bed with another person would help Dirk's fever break faster. Becquerel was currently occupying the space where Jake should have been to preserve warmth for the Strider, laying still and obediently guarding the sick houseguest. Jake was downstairs acquiring soup to rouse Dirk with. It had been a few hours since they'd left his apartment.

[shitknickers]

There was not a lot Jake English was afraid of.

He had grown up in Australia, where everything was bigger and at least 40% more poisonous, he'd broken nearly every bone in his body by the time he was ten and almost never cried about it. He watched scary movies and dramas and read all manner of comics filled with angst and suspense, and took it all with a broad, manic sort of grin. He loved surprises, roller coasters were his favorite adrenaline rush, the kid had gone sky-diving for his eighteenth birthday.

And yet here he was, pale and shaking and bare-bones terrified beyond his wildest nightmares, waiting at a traffic light just after making an extremely illegal u-turn on his way home from class. He'd gotten a phone call from a one Doctor Jenson in regard of his grandmother. She'd been in a car accident, and with Jake being her only next of kin, they needed him to come down as soon as he was able. By this point he had Dirk on speed dial, since he rarely called or texted anyone beyond him and Jade and sometimes Jane and Dirk's friend Roxy, and he just dropped the phone into the passenger's seat on speaker because his hands were shaking too badly to actually hold it. He tried to remember how to breathe.