the cure for what ails ya [open]

[has_a_horn]

(slight sickness related grossness in the following)

He wakes up sore, and not in a fun way. He groans, and every muscle in his body protests as he swings his legs around the edge of the bed and sits up. What the hell is this? He stomach feels wrong and his head is pounding like he's got the worst hangover imaginable. Actually, worse than imaginable because when he attempts to heal himself, nothing happens.

There's something on his face- he lifts a hand and "Ughh-" that's definitely snot on his face. There is snot where it definitely should not be. At least when he goes to wipe it away, it disappears.

Whatever this is, he clearly needs help. A moment later, he arrives lying face down on Johnny's bed.

He groans. "Johnny, I've been cursed. Probly the rift. You need to-" He waves a hand vaguely then coughs, and for a moment he feels like he might just keep coughing forever, but it passes. "-call Aziraphale. He needs to come'n do something." He's ill. Surely this is what it feels like to be deathly ill, and if Aziraphale can't heal him, maybe he can reverse whatever curse the rift or whoever has put on him.

(He'll be with Johnny for a while, but later he'll be up at his place again, likely flopped in bed. Anyone is free to visit then)

Comments

[has_a_horn]

Gabriel makes a noncommittal noise somewhere between a groan and sigh. He likes having company, but they're both so tiring. Why can't they just talk about something normal, like sex, or the latest season of Downton Abbey?

He shoves the mug in Johnny's direction until he takes it from him, then scoots down again until he's completely horizontal. This feels better.

"I had a dog named Buddy," he mumbles out, as he reaches out for the hand settled on his stomach and links his fingers with Johnny's. He moves both hands up to rest on his chest instead because his stomach feels like a precarious place for any sort of weight to be resting right now, but he does like having the point of contact. His eyes slip closed. "He was kinda like Scout. Different colors. Shorter hair."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny sighs in surrender and sets the mug aside. He had one sip. That'll have to be the victory. He smiles faintly at Gabe's rambling, rubbing his thumb gently over his knuckles. He seems like he's starting to drift off, which is probably for the best.

"Yeah?" he says quietly, not wanting to give him anything new to think about. Let him doze off thinking about his old dog.

[driftseeker]

She's not sure when the conversation made the transition from debating the merits of soup to reminiscing about dogs, but she lets it happen since it seems to be succeeding in getting Gabe to lie down and rest. She thinks of Max, and smiles.

Mako sits back and lets Johnny take over. She doesn't want to jar Gabe awake.