[Original: Drabble] "Sick Day" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Sick Day
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #14 ‘bathrobe’
Word Count: 281
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Howell is under the weather.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Sick Day
“Sir?” I said, starting to worry when Howell answered his door in a threadbare plaid bathrobe.
“What do you want, Jones?” he demanded, and there was something odd about his voice.
Then, I took a better look at him and realized that his eyes and nose were both noticeably redder than usual. “Sir,” I said again. “Are you sick?”
“It happens to the best of us, Jones.”
“But you’re never sick. Like never, never. Sir, you look terrible, you should be in bed!”
“I was in bed,” Howell said, “until someone knocked on my door. What do you need?”
“What? Oh, nothing, sir. I was just…” I waved a hand, vaguely, intending to mean bored and kicking around but was pretty sure actually came across as lonely yet anti-social.
Howell took a step back. “Then come inside and make yourself useful.”
“What can I do?” I asked, following him inside.
My partner paused. He and I both hated to ask for help, but I hoped that after all the times he’d done things for me, he’d be willing to let me return the favor without too much trouble.
“I was going to make a pot of tea,” he said, after a moment. “But I think I should probably sit down.”
“Tea, I can do that,” I said. “Anything else?”
Howell sank into the big leather armchair in his living room, pulling the blanket from its back haphazardly over his lap. “I’m sick, Jones, but I’ll live. You don’t have to stay.”
“I know, sir,” I said, and went to make the tea.
Of course I didn’t have to stay, but we both knew that I would. That’s what partners were for.
THE END
Current Mood:
dorky
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #14 ‘bathrobe’
Word Count: 281
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Howell is under the weather.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Sick Day
“Sir?” I said, starting to worry when Howell answered his door in a threadbare plaid bathrobe.
“What do you want, Jones?” he demanded, and there was something odd about his voice.
Then, I took a better look at him and realized that his eyes and nose were both noticeably redder than usual. “Sir,” I said again. “Are you sick?”
“It happens to the best of us, Jones.”
“But you’re never sick. Like never, never. Sir, you look terrible, you should be in bed!”
“I was in bed,” Howell said, “until someone knocked on my door. What do you need?”
“What? Oh, nothing, sir. I was just…” I waved a hand, vaguely, intending to mean bored and kicking around but was pretty sure actually came across as lonely yet anti-social.
Howell took a step back. “Then come inside and make yourself useful.”
“What can I do?” I asked, following him inside.
My partner paused. He and I both hated to ask for help, but I hoped that after all the times he’d done things for me, he’d be willing to let me return the favor without too much trouble.
“I was going to make a pot of tea,” he said, after a moment. “But I think I should probably sit down.”
“Tea, I can do that,” I said. “Anything else?”
Howell sank into the big leather armchair in his living room, pulling the blanket from its back haphazardly over his lap. “I’m sick, Jones, but I’ll live. You don’t have to stay.”
“I know, sir,” I said, and went to make the tea.
Of course I didn’t have to stay, but we both knew that I would. That’s what partners were for.
THE END
Current Mood:
dorky