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John B was, admittedly, a little freaked out. Adrenaline was still pumping through him, and he had just fought off a gator. It sounded kinda cool. And, upside, he’d have a gnarly scar to show off. That is, if it didn’t bleed out. John B held his red-painted fingers up, watching the blood drip absently. Fucking warrior shit. Like he’d just come out of battle. Only problem? His hand was shaking a little, which kind of killed the badassery of the moment. Still…a gator. Crazy.
“Hey John B, you good?” Pope asked, shaking his shoulder.
“Yeah,” John B mumbled absently, dropping his gaze to the gash on his leg.
John B pulled the skin together, his stomach turning nauseous as a gush of dark red blood pooled on the surface. He dropped his hands to his sides, glancing at Pope as he realized his hand was still resting on his shoulder. A reassuring squeeze, and then the hand dropped, but John B didn’t feel the difference. He was numb, from head to toe, and that would have been worrying if John B wasn’t still stuck on the fact that he’d just had a fight with a freakin’ gator. And won. It was so fucking cool. John B couldn’t wait to tell JJ. This’ll totally beat JJ’s shark story. Especially ‘cause John B was, like, 90% sure it was a dolphin JJ saw surfing, and JJ doesn’t even have a scar. John B wrestled with the fucking gator. JJ didn’t stand a fucking chance of one-upping this one.
“—babe, John B, hey, are you listening?” Sarah asked in a growing concern, as she tied the handkerchief around John B’s calf.
The blood seemed to slow to a trickle, as the pressure from the knot cut through the numb. But the adrenaline was still running hot through John B, and the pain was nothing more than a background buzz, blending in with Pope and Sarah’s concerned voices.
“He’s in shock, I think,” Pope said, shooting John B a quizzical look.
“Shit,” Sarah said. “What do we do for that? Don’t we need one of those, like, the tinfoil blankets?”
“We are sitting on top of a half-submerged van,” Pope retorted with a quirked eyebrow.
Sarah raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, sorry, it’s just, that’s what they do in the movies. I don’t know what to do,” Sarah said helplessly.
“Sorry,” Pope said, “um, we should raise his legs. Staunch the bleeding, plus it’s good for shock. I think I read that somewhere.”
That was how John B ended up lying down on the roof of his van, head in Sarah’s lap as she combed through his hair, as Pope rested John B’s legs on his raised knees. John B felt a little stupid lying like that, if he was honest, but there was some invisible force keeping him from saying a word. Maybe it was more of that numb, that had spread through him so persistently. So John B had let them maneuver him without a word of protest, and he found if he closed his eyes, he didn’t have to see the worry on their faces.
It was a perfect solution, is what it was. Until the new position started to work, and the numb seeped from John B like the blood dripping down his calf, and John B could feel that pain, now. A dull throbbing that came into sharp focus in a pain that had John B gasping upright, clutching his knee as he cried out, “fuck”.
“John B?” Pope asked, catching John B’s eye as he doubled over again.
“Fuck,” John B hissed. “Shit, that fucking hurts.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Sarah asked, slipping her hands over John B’s shoulders to pull him back down into her lap.
John B eased back, his eyes screwed shut in pain as it took over his every thought. Fuck, it hurt so bad. John B wanted the numb back. Maybe some of that adrenaline, too. A fresh wave of pain left John B in a hot flash, clenching his hand into the flesh of his thigh as he tried to redirect the pain. As the pain ebbed and John B untensed, Pope pried John B’s hand from his skin, taking it in his own.
John B squeezed it, hard, as he bit the inside of his cheek. To Pope’s credit, he didn’t try to pull away, or let on just how badly John B was crushing his fingers. And John B was grateful, he was. But the hand he wanted holding his own wasn’t Pope’s. It was JJ, who wasn’t fucking there. And his leg hurt so, fucking, bad.
“Where’s J?” John B mumbled out.
“They’ll be back soon,” Pope said reassuringly. “Don’t know what’s taking them so long,” he added under his breath.
“Fucking—tell them to fuckin’ hurry up,” John B slurred, clenching Pope’s hand in a crushing grip.
A wave of pain rolled through John B’s body, light-headed as he blinked black dots from his vision. Stupid fucking JJ. He’d fought off a fucking gator, and JJ hadn’t even been there to see it.
Something about JJ was…off. It was the first thing John B noticed, after he sat up and muttered an exasperated about time. The momentary relief of their return was shattered as JJ rubbed at his chest, in that way he does when he’s so clearly agitated, agonizing on the inside and out. Kie and Pope and Sarah were in a screaming match that came sluggish and slow to John B’s ears, and he looked at JJ, worried.
And then JJ snapped.
It was a thing of beauty. His best speech to date, for sure. Very moving shit. And a surprising show of vulnerability, too. John B was so proud, he couldn’t help the cheesy smile growing on his face. He spurned a round of applause, and threw a whoop and holler in there to make JJ’s blush grow. He always got so red when he was embarrassed. It was adorable. It was going to be the death of him. Literally. John B felt a hot flush come on just as JJ’s cheeks reddened, and the satisfaction was swiftly cut off by his eyes rolling into the back of his head. And it was all JJ’s fault.
By the time John B came to, Kiara was revving the engine and the Twinkie was halfway out of the water. JJ was frantically directing Sarah as she steered the van, while Pope held on for dear life, an arm around John B and the other holding the roof with a white-knuckled grip. Unfortunately, John B was still feeling pretty weak, so he was about as useless as JJ’s yells, but the Twinkie was freed from the swamp before long.
Not two seconds later, JJ was inches from his face, head popping up over the top of the van.
“Hey B,” JJ greeted, with a small quirk of his lips.
John B smiled, feeling warm and pathetic as he breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Tangoed with a gator,” John B slurred, a dopey grin plastered on his face.
“I bet. We gotta get you off the roof now, can you move, or am I gonna have to drag your ass?” JJ snarked.
“Gimme a minute,” John B said, dropping his head and blinking a few times.
Still feeling nauseous, but John B figured he could move. Nodding, he sat up with a hand from Pope, then slid off the roof. Between Pope behind him and JJ catching him, John B managed a rather successful dismount, considered the whole—gator blood loss thing.
With all his weight on JJ, they shuffled along to the bed of the truck as Pope hoped into the passenger seat next to Sarah. Soon, they were all piled into one vehicle or another, and it was just JJ stroking John B’s hair in his lap. Kind of a perfect moment, really, if it wasn’t for the stupid bumpy road and bleeding leg and fucking inconvenient nausea.
John B’s eyelids began to droop, and JJ patted his cheek frantically. “Hey, hey, wake up, dude, don’t go passing out on me again, c’mon.”
“I’m not gonna pass out,” John B said, which didn’t sound all that convincing, slurred and slow like that. But still. He wasn’t going to pass out. Probably.
“Your dad left?” John B prompted, figuring a conversation would help pass the time between the shooting pains that were getting more distracting by the second.
JJ’s legs tensed up instantly. “You’re bleeding out. My stitching skills are really shit.”
John B huffed. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole. Stop deflecting.”
“What are you, my therapist?” JJ scoffed. “You were attacked by a freaking gator. That seems a little more important right now.”
“No shit Sherlock, but your dad leaving is a bigger deal then a cut we can’t do shit about right now,” John B shot back, unimpressed.
“Can’t do shit about my dad leaving either. Besides, you dying is a much bigger deal than that asshole.”
“I’m not gonna die, J.”
JJ’s eyes looked glassy, then, as he blinked and looked away.
“Just don’t—don’t pass out again,” JJ said.
“Sorry,” John B whispered.
“Hey J,” John B said, after the silence had settled.
“What?” JJ asked sharply, still on the defense. That was JJ to a tee. Say something vulnerable, and then the walls came barreling back up. But John B had this dopey grin on his face, and he could see JJ growing soft as he fought a matching smile.
“I fought a gator,” John B said, wonder seeping through his voice.
“And you lost,” JJ laughed.
“Fuck you, I won,” John B said, jutting his lower lip out.
“Dude, the gator walked away with part of your leg, you did not win,” JJ said, poking John B’s cheek through his mischievous smile.
“Fucker. I beat that bitch ass gator, and I can beat your bitch ass too,” John B grumbled.
“You can barely keep your eyes open, you ain’t winning any fights boo,” JJ said.
John B fell silent again. A few seconds later, that dopey grin was back on his face, as he tapped JJ’s knee expectantly.
“Hey J,” John B started, as JJ’s grin grew with. “I fought a gator.” John B laughed, lightly, like he couldn’t believe it. But JJ’s grin fell, a worry he couldn’t hide creeping into his gaze.
“Yeah B, you said,” JJ said, sounding distracting.
“I did?” John B asked, confused.
“Thank fuck,” JJ said, as they pulled into the Chateau.
Before long, John B found himself laid out on the kitchen table, eyeing the needle in JJ’s hands worriedly.
“You’re in luck. Dad just robbed a pharmacy,” JJ said, toying with a bottle of pills he pulled out of his pocket.
“So you robbed him? Real smart, J,” John B grumbled, even as he nodded his head.
“Fuck off. You wanna deal with my shit stitching sober?”
JJ yanked the lid off, while Kiara grabbed a glass of water for him. Sarah and Pope’s protests fell on deaf ears, and John B downed a handful of pills as JJ rambled on.
“Fuck, don’t remind me,” John B groaned, looking at the Pogues standing around him. “Any of you know how to sew up a cut?”
They all hesitated, faces growing green as they glanced at the exposed cut.
“I can sew, but,” Kiara’s face turned green, as she looked at the rip in John B’s leg, “ew, yeah, nope, no way in hell.”
“I don’t mind the blood, but I don’t know how to sew, sorry babe,” Sarah said, an apologetic look on her face.
John B turned on Pope, who had remained suspiciously quiet since leaving the swamp.
“Oh come on, I know you have the stomach for this Pope,” John B said, shooting a hopeful look at Pope, between eyeing the needle in JJ’s hands distrustfully.
“Yeah, studying dead guys has to have prepared you for this shit,” JJ chimed in, jabbing Pope’s side playfully.
“I mean, yeah, but like, I’ve never sewn a person before. This is crazy. We should go to the hospital, John B, this isn’t safe,” Pope said, chewing his nails nervously.
“It’s fine, B. Don’t you worry, Papa J’s got you. She won’t be pretty, but she’ll do the job.”
John B didn’t have a minute to protest, because the pills kicked in and a needle was in his skin moments later.
It felt kind of—surreal. Not the situation, exactly, but the reversal. Because John B had been sewing JJ’s cuts for so long now, between reckless stunts and Luke fucking Maybank, but—JJ sewing him up? Kinda felt crazy. Weird. Like John B had finally fallen off the deep-end. Which, in all fairness, he kinda had, throwing the Pogues into this treasure hunting business. But, like, Pope cared more than John B did, at this point. So it definitely wasn’t John B’s fault. For sure. No way in hell. It was the gator’s fault. Or JJ’s, for taking so fucking long to get back.
Yeah, that felt good. All JJ’s fault. John B flipped him the bird, but he mustn’t’ve looked like he meant it, with that dopey grin on his face. Which was the drugs’ fault. Again, JJ. Fuck him.
“You’re the worst,” John B slurred, as he eyed JJ derisively.
“Sorry, man, I’m nearly done,” JJ replied, lips tight in concentration as he threaded the needle through the large gash on John B’s calf.
“Can you…feel it?” Sarah asked with a morbid fascination.
“Nah,” John B said, because, like, he couldn’t feel it. Well, he could feel pain. But not what JJ was doing down there. Probably because of the drugs. Maybe a bit of the adrenaline. But mostly the drugs. Thank god for that. Or, rather, thank JJ for that. John B giggled, a little, at the thought. Comparing JJ to God…the blond didn’t need more of an ego than he already had. Still. The drugs were good. Like, really fucking good.
“Love you Jay,” John B slurred, grinning at JJ.
“Damn Bree, don’t gotta give me the hot and cold treatment,” JJ replied with a cheeky grin, deep in concentration as he tied off the final knot.
“There, done. Just gotta splash it with some vodka now. Bit down on something, bub,” JJ said apologetically, uncorking the vodka with a loud pop.
Pope grabbed his hand, while Sarah pulled the handkerchief around his neck into his mouth. John B blinked up at them dumbly. And then JJ soaked his bleeding leg in gas station vodka.
Holy shit, John B didn’t think something could hurt that bad. He might’ve crushed Pope’s fingers. And cracked a molar. It was done now, though, and Pope was cradling his hand with a brave smile on his face as he peered down at John B. Sarah pulled the handkerchief out, stroking the hair out of his forehead. Kiara had gone to get bandages, apparently, handing them to JJ, who was surprisingly skilled at the bandage wrapping part of the gig. Not so much at the stitching. John B was definitely gonna have a scar. The tight wrappings eased the pain, as the drugs took care of the rest, and John B relaxed into the table as JJ took a large swig of vodka.
“You good?” John B asked, as JJ caught his eye.
JJ laughed, lowering the bottle.
“Dude I just did surgery on you. Are you good?” JJ asked, incredulously.
“Eh, been better,” John B said, earning a laugh from all the Pogues.
“So, that was crazy, and I don’t want to be, like, insensitive or anything, but like we didn’t get the cross, so…” Pope rambled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I don’t think movement is in my immediate future,” John B said idly.
“I think I might be able to return my dad’s truck before he notices, we haven’t been gone too long. An hour, maybe?” Kiara said, looking at JJ for confirmation.
“An hour and a half?” JJ said with a shrug.
“Wait wait wait. We can take the truck, to get the Cross,” Pope insisted, looking around to the dubious looks of the Pogues. “The Cross of Santo Domingo, guys, c’mon!”
“Dude, it’s all swamp out there. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we need to piss off any more gators. Let’s just wait ‘till tomorrow, we don’t know that they even figured out what the room means,” JJ reasoned, ending with a swig of vodka and a loud burp.
“Yeah, Pope, we’ll go first thing tomorrow,” Sarah said with a reassuring grin.
“Alright, I’m gonna head home then. My parents are gonna kill me,” Kiara groaned. “Well, better get it over with now. If I don’t show up in the morning, get the cross for me. And you,” Kiara said, poking a finger in John B’s chest. “Don’t die.”
Kiara left, and John B was left seeing JJ’s flinch at the words. He covered with another swig.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow. We are getting this cross,” Pope insisted, agitated still, even as he waved them off.
A chorus of bye’s followed Pope out the door, and then the trio were left in silence.
“Dude, hand it over, you’re not the one who got mauled,” John B groaned, holding out a hand for the bottle. JJ handed it over without a word.
Sarah opened and closed her mouth a few times, before finally settling on, “I don’t trust JJ to keep you alive.”
“Hey!” JJ exclaimed, offended, but Sarah just pointed to the bottle John B was passing back into JJ’s waiting hands.
“Fair,” JJ corrected after taking a swig.
“This is so unreal,” John B said, into the silence that had settled over the room.
His face was neutral, but his eyes were wide with disbelief, flicking over to JJ in a moment neither blond missed.
Sarah bit her lip, worried John B might have set off the weird tension that had settled around JJ. But JJ just snorted, handing the bottle back to John B, before kicking his legs up on the table, their ankles overlapping.
“Yeah. Guess it’s normally me on that table,” JJ said with a light laugh, feeling the incredulity of the moment.
“At least I’ll have a gnarly scar,” John B said. “This shit fucking hurts. How the hell don’t you scream?”
“Eh, you get used to just gritting your teeth and getting through it. Besides, getting ripped open by a gator is a little different to some broken glass,” JJ said with a shrug.
“Among other things,” John B added.
“Among other things,” JJ echoed.
The silence felt deafening. JJ bristled under it, snatching back the bottle and shooting to his feet.
“Dude you’re making me dizzy,” John B said, eyes going crisscrossed trying to follow JJ’s erratic pacing.
JJ stopped still in his tracks, looking down as he avoided Sarah and John B’s gaze. JJ fiddled with something in his pocket, then jerked his head to the porch door, muttering something about going for a smoke.
“J,” John B called out weakly, but his outstretched arm was too far from JJ, and JJ wouldn’t turn to look at him.
Sarah rushed forward, a hand circling around JJ’s upper arm as she tugged him back.
“Just smoke here, JJ,” Sarah said, not taking no for an answer as she tugged JJ back into his seat at the end of the table.
JJ’s nostrils flared, and his arm tensed, in a move John B recognized well. The JJ is about to book it look, but they were saved from a JJ disappearing act by a glance. JJ, peeking under his eyelashes, as he caught John B’s eyes in his own. There was a shift in the room, palpable to Sarah, even as she could only guess at the unspoken conversation the boys had.
“Fine,” JJ huffed out with a loud, exaggerated sigh, plopping down into his seat and shrugging Sarah’s hand off his arm. “But for the record, you play dirty.”
“Hey, I can’t help it that I’m immobile right now. Can’t exactly chase after you, can I?” John B said.
“Sounds perfect to me,” JJ said, kicking his feet back up on the table and crossing his arms behind his head.
John B didn’t think, sometimes, before he spoke. It was a flaw, he was aware. Still;
“Your dad just did a runner and you wanna do the same? Aren’t you tired of running?”
It was a genuine question, is the thing. But John B knew the minute it left his lips that he’d fucked up. JJ tensed, all over, and then there was this smirk on his face, casual and uncaring as he flicked a lighter absently. A façade that John B fucking hates, but he doesn’t have the energy for the delicate dance it takes to bring it back down. Anemic and tipsy, and John B was as blunt as can be.
“What happened to your whole speech? Pogues for life?” John B said, staring at the ceiling as if that would shield him from the glare JJ was sending his way.
“You see me going anywhere? You guys are all I’ve got. I’m not gonna fuck off like he did. I—” JJ paused, some mix of anger and confusion scrunching his face. “If I hadn’t run into him—he wasn’t even going to say goodbye. He would have just been—gone. Poof,” JJ said, making a little explosion with his hand.
“I’m sorry, JJ,” Sarah said, squeezing his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, he always was a piece of shit. I don’t know why I ever thought he would—it doesn’t matter. It’s better, anyway. Won’t need that damn sewing kit again,” JJ said, shrugging off Sarah’s hand as his narrowed eyes zeroed in on some corner of the house.
“I don’t know, I think I could win round two with the gator,” John B said.
“If I hadn’t come to save you, you would be dinner right now,” Sarah shot back.
“You saved him?” JJ asked.
“Yeah, she hacked at the gator with a knife. It was crazy. I’m pretty sure you stabbed me at some point,” John B said with a smile.
“I did not! Okay, I might have nicked you a little, but hey, you’re alive, aren’t you?” Sarah retorted with a hand on her hip and a smile on her lips.
“You’re my knight in shining armor, Sarah Cameron,” John B said, that lovesick look still in his eyes.
“Guess that makes you my damsel in distress,” Sarah said.
JJ laughed, free and loud and real. The problem: the joke wasn’t that funny. And then it all made sense, as the laughs waned into something pained, watery laughs and choked coughs that had Sarah wrapping her arms around JJ.
JJ squeezed her wrist from where it was wrapped around his chest, and he looked at John B through glassy eyes.
“Been a hell of a day, huh?” JJ said, teary-eyed still, even as he quieted down.
“Fuck. Yeah. That’s one way to put it,” John B breathed out, reaching out a hand for JJ to grasp.
“A fucking gator. I warned you,” JJ said, shaking his head softly.
“Price of treasure hunting,” John B said.
“Price of being an idiot,” JJ snorted, exchanging a smile with Sarah.
John B squeezed JJ’s hand, feeling a wave of drowsiness through his body.
“’m gonna be fine,” John B said sleepily, eyes straining as he forced them open. He caught Sarah’s gaze in his own, flicking towards JJ pointedly. Sarah nodded, a small smile and a promise in her eyes, to take care of JJ.
John B let his eyes droop, as the exhaustion rolled over him again. The sun was still out, but—“I fought a gator.”
“Yeah you did, B,” JJ said, sounding as tired as John B felt.
“’m tired,” John B mumbled.
“I bet you are babe. Go to sleep, Jay and I’ll stay here with you,” Sarah said, finding a seat at the head of the table, gently stroking John B’s forehead in soothing motions.
“Did you see babe? I beat a gator,” John B mumbled, his eyes drooping until he didn’t have the energy to open them anymore.
“Sure you did babe,” Sarah chuckled softly, brushing his hair back with her hand.
“Beat his bitch ass,” John B muttered, squeezing JJ’s hand.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” JJ said fondly, through a laugh he couldn’t hold back.
John B forced his eyes open one more time, seeking reassurance in JJ’s gaze. Once he was sure JJ would be okay, John B let his eyes fall closed once more, and sleep took him within seconds.