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Someone was coughing hard. It didn't take much imagination for Hank to know who it was and why he was woken up at five in the morning.
Once again his crew was working the Christmas shift, and Hank was never one to underestimate what people could get themselves into. The engine and squad had rolled on a call of a man having driven his car into the channel. That made three years in a row of a person or their vehicle ending up in either the channel or the bay, and Hank wasn't sure what attracted them.
Nevertheless, it was their job to rescue the poor man, who was most likely having the worst day of his life. Right away, two problems presented themselves: the rapidly dwindling daylight, and the winter temperatures of the water. Quickly determining the car wasn't too deep down, John took the lead and jumped in first, followed closely by Roy.
Hank could tell at a glance how freezing the water was by observing the partners as they resurfaced, reporting the door was open and the man was unconscious. Once again slipping into the murky water, they emerged a half a minute later with the victim in tow.
That had been hours ago, with the squad finally returning after successfully resuscitating the man. Water rescues could be dicey, and most of the factors were based on how long the brain was without oxygen, so the man was lucky.
The same couldn't be said for John, who Hank could pick signs of catching a cold off of at a glance. The paramedic took everyone's concerns in stride, but ultimately turned in earlier than everyone else, missing out on an annual fresh delivery of treats from a young couple.
The coughing sounded throat-ripping, and Hank couldn't help but rub his throat to soothe sympathy pains. Shifting his right arm out from under the covers, he squinted at his watch and noted it was just after five. The captain could be a deep sleeper, so it was mildly surprising he had been woken up.
A sudden, whispered "dammit" from John, followed by rough tossing of sheets signaled the paramedic shifting out of bed. A long sigh came next, tapering off into a rough cough as Hank heard John stand up and start trudging his way towards the locker room.
More coughing and annoyed noises emanated from the room, being briefly cut with the undeniable sound of an Aspirin bottle and the faucet being turned on.
If that was evidence that John had a fever, then Hank deeply regretted not catching it sooner and sending him home. The paramedic had worked through worse illnesses, still managing to do his job and keep a straight face; Hank could recall one time he had flu-like symptoms and still jumped into the channel to rescue a man. That didn't stop the captain from being concerned, and he hoped it was just a simple cold.
Luck was on John's side this year however, and by extension the rest of the crew. Citing rapid population increase and pushback from several members, HQ decided to cut the typical 48 hour shift this year in favor of a regular two 24 hour shifts. It would most likely be temporary, lasting for one year and discussing the results, but it was nice to imagine it would stay.
Confident that his youngest member would be okay, Hank flipped on his side to fall back asleep.
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It was far too quiet in the dorm room for what he had heard before. There was no harsh coughing or sick snoring every few seconds, and Hank had his suspicions about John having moved somewhere else to sleep.
Sighing, the captain threw off his bedsheets, sitting up and gazing over the brick partition. Sure enough, John's bunk was empty, and oddly enough contained an extra pillow. Hank connected the dots when he spotted Chet without one.
He rubbed at his eyes to clear any remaining sleep, sneaking a glance at his watch. Realizing only half an hour had passed, and with the county collectively waking up soon, Hank concluded trying to get more sleep was pointless. Mild worry for John’s whereabouts only exemplified that feeling.
Letting out a breath, Hank took a second to stretch before slipping his legs into his turnouts, fully standing up as his joints protested. Crouching down to grab the straps, he barely noticed his engineer staring his way, which Hank met with a tired half smile.
Always in tune with his captain, Mike quickly determined there wasn't any immediate problem present. The slight change of Hank's expression was concerning however, and he needed to check to make sure all was well.
“John?” He finally questioned. The silence of the room not being broken by hoarse coughing confirmed he was right.
Hank nodded in response. "I'm gonna go make sure he's not dead somewhere."
It was a joke, of course. A simple cold wouldn't take down John, and while it would be best to leave the poor man be, Hank at least wanted to confirm he was alright.
A breathy laugh from Mike met the captain's humor, and he nodded his silent confirmation, knowing he wouldn't be needed. He flipped back over in an attempt to sleep a few more minutes, leaving his captain to trudge towards the bay.
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Hank wasn't quite sure what he'd find when he made his way into the rec room, assuming that's where John was. The last few times he voluntarily moved himself from the dorm room, he either ended up in the cab of the squad or on the couch.
In this case, he was sound asleep at the table, face firmly planted on its worn surface and arms lazily splayed across the table as he snored loudly. Despite it being comparable in decibels to the engine, Hank spotted Henry perfectly asleep on the couch, seemingly none the wiser.
Despite confirming John was indeed alive and somewhat well, Hank felt more compelled to stay with him rather than pointlessly head back to bed. With a quiet sigh, he made his way over to John's left side. Breathing in, he patted John's shoulder twice, who grumbled in discomfort, raised his head to stare at his captain and jumped a bit as if not expecting him.
Hank raised an eyebrow at the remnants of a cookie now firmly plastered to the young man's face. John seemed to notice at the same time and suddenly looked horrified, quickly using his left arm to wipe off any errant crumbs stuck to his cheek.
Hank quickly snagged a napkin from the center of the table, handing it to John. "Don't use your arm, ya twit!"
The paramedic gratefully took it, wiping off his face and his arm as he avoided his captain's glance. Sniffing in an attempt to hold back a sneeze, John stared at the napkin in sadness before bunching it up.
"Man, Cap. Can't even taste the cookies. The ones the Ross's make, with the good vanilla." He nearly whined, letting out a breath before planting his head in his hands.
Realizing Hank was about to play the metaphorical shoulder to cry on, he took a seat at the table, with John continuing on about how he hoped the cookies would improve his spirits. The captain provided some well-needed back pats to the poor man, making a face as he looked around the room in slight embarrassment.
As his gaze landed on the stove, he noticed a pot sitting on it, and it wasn't long before he caught an aromatic smell that seemingly emanated from it. It was rather pleasant, with lemon, orange and others Hank couldn't pick out, and he raised an eyebrow as John lifted his head back up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
He still wasn't making eye contact with the captain, and Hank briefly wondered if he was nervous about the entire thing. Trying to lighten the air, he nodded over to the stove.
"Making something over there?"
John rubbed tiredly at one eye, looking over at the stove. "Oh. Uhm, tea. It's tea that my aunt sent me. Special stuff."
Hank recalled the rather large box they stumbled upon earlier in the afternoon, with John quickly realizing it was the annual gift box from his aunt for everyone. Amongst the various items and hand-knitted clothes were a few bags of mixed herbs and plants. John informed everyone his aunt loves to grow tea ingredients and send him some a few times every year. It was a carry-over tradition from when he was a kid, and despite being a coffee addict, he assured everyone a high quality cup of tea every once in a while was magic.
With the aroma Hank was catching, he was starting to wonder if there was truth to John's words. He almost wanted to ask for a cup, but kept the question to himself for the time being. Better not to overload the man who handled being sick like a ten year old kid.
John made a noise as if remembering something. "I forgot how--how many herbs she grows. Buys the rest of the stuff, sells 'em, passive income." He paused, resting his chin on his hand as he used the napkin to wipe his nose. "Needs to...to steep for half an hour for full..."
He suddenly stared back up, expression becoming soft. "First time I had the...the cold blend was Christmas at Montana when I was kid."
Hank could sense a cold-driven flood of words coming on, choosing to kindly let the man speak as he leaned back in his chair.
"I was sleeping in bed and...and she brought in the tea. Good stuff, cleared the nose, cleared the chest."
John reached forward and snagged another napkin off the pile suddenly, sneezing into it. He kept talking as if undisturbed.
"There's, uhm, ginger root, orange and lemon peel - now those help with the nose, and then there's some..." he waved a hand, weakly laughing, "other stuff I don't remember that helps with pain."
He paused, looking over at the stove seemingly more exhausted. "Bet it's done by now." He sniffed, rubbing his nose as he looked over at Hank quickly before looking away. "Uhm, you can have a cup, Cap."
Hank held up a hand. "I wouldn't want to steal any of it."
"Oh, well, I made enough for...two cups." John scratched at his chin in thought. "I guess you don't have to."
Hank couldn't tell if he was being insistent or not. He was averting his gaze from the captain and rambling on about tea ingredients, which seemed to indicate he was nervous about something, most likely having his captain's attention be solely on him while in a vulnerable state.
His expression dropped as John quietly fiddled with the napkin in his hand, staring at the wall in thought. He suddenly felt bad - it would've been better to let him continue to rest rather than walk in and start a conversation.
Perhaps that's why he was insistent.
Hank softly cleared his throat, causing John to shift his gaze to the captain.
"I guess I could try it."
John seemed to perk up very slightly, nodding and moving to stand up. Letting out a breath, Hank patted the paramedic's shoulder a couple times, letting him know he'd get it for them. He watched John attempt to form a rebuttal in his mind, wanting to get it and prove he was capable, but instead he submitted and sat back down.
It definitely wasn't good, wasn't normal. Hank scratched at the back of his head in thought as he tiredly slogged over to the stove. Was it worth it to grab the thermometer from the squad, or let Roy handle that in an hour or so? A high enough temp would warrant a trip to Rampart for sure, and Hank could tell John would not be a fan of that in his current condition.
Reaching up and pulling two mugs from the cabinet, he raised an eyebrow at the small pot on the stove. John had taken the hand strainer and unceremoniously dumped some of the tea into it, letting it sit in the hot water. He had to admit, the smell was quite a bit more aromatic up close.
Hank carefully picked up the strainer, disappointed that some rogue leaves had drifted their way into the hot water. Shrugging, he set it on the cold part of the stove before pouring off equal amounts into the mugs. Despite sitting for half an hour, the brew was steaming hot and light in color, smelling differently when aerated. He placed the now empty pot back down as he grabbed the mugs and made his way back to the table.
John was resting his head in his hands as he set the cup down next to him, which caused him to jump slightly. He made a noise of discovery as he grabbed the mug with both hands, lifting it up to his chest as the steam wisped over his face. He seemed content for the first time since the night before, letting out a breath of relief.
"...aunt always said holdin' it to your chest helps." John finally spoke, pulling the mug away as he resisted a shiver. He finally met Hank's gaze for more than a few seconds, forcing out a weak and nearly unnoticeable smile.
Hank felt relief, finally comfortable about John being okay. While the paramedic would be a bit miserable for the remainder of the shift, the thought of a hospital trip didn't seem likely.
Satisfied, he swirled the fragrant beverage a few times, letting the heat from the mug warm his hands. They sat in silence for a few seconds before the captain went in for a taste.
He stopped halfway when he heard John speak a near silent "oh", lowering the cup and looking over at the paramedic. He was holding his arm up, raising his mug towards Hank. It took him longer than it should've to realize John was silently asking for a toast, and the captain wasted no time in meeting his cup. Both drew back and promptly took a sip of the tea.
Hank expected the tea to taste as it smelled, but it was more potent than he thought, with added tastes of ginger among the lemon and orange. Even though he wasn't the one with the cold, it warmed his entire body, and he found himself letting out a breath of satisfaction as he lowered the mug.
Setting it on the table, he glanced over at John and noticed him holding it to his chest again. His eyes were closed as he breathed carefully, probably to avoid coughing and spilling the tea.
Hank let out a silent single laugh, unaware of the new presence at the doorway. He caught it out of the corner of his eyes after a few seconds, shifting his full attention as he realized it was Roy. While the captain wasn't nearly as good as reading the expression on the older partner's face, he could tell straight away he was silently asking about John's condition.
The captain nodded at John. "He's fine. He'll be able to finish out the shift."
Hank held back his reaction at the relief Roy suddenly showed, though he appeared not fully convinced.
"I still want to take his temp again." Roy reasoned, walking into the rec room with a thermometer already in hand. Being that Hank didn't hear the compartment on the squad open, he assumed Roy had kept it near him overnight.
John reacted to his partner's voice, startling awake and landing his eyes on Roy. He slightly sunk into his chair, setting the mug down. Hank raised an eyebrow at that movement, watching as John's gaze followed Roy to his side.
He threw his hands out to the side. "C’mon, I'm better. The tea's in the system."
Roy didn't seem convinced. "You look sicker than before you went to bed."
"And you...look more tired." John traced a finger under his eye. "Dark circles'r worse."
Sick or not, John could still fire off his quips with great timing. Even still, that didn't explain his reluctance to be examined.
"I don't think any of us got good sleep, pal." Hank agreed with Roy. "Explains the extra pillow on your bunk."
John squinted in response, looking away from him. Hank figured it to be a silent apology. He watched as John finally noticed the thermometer in his partner's hand, sighing in response.
"I doubt it's...up that much."
John swatted away Roy's hand, likely on track to his forehead. "Uh uh, I said 'm fine."
"I can feel the heat coming off of you, Johnny."
"Because I just drank a hot beverage, Roy."
Hank felt the need to scoot his chair back a bit from the two, preparing to enjoy the light bickering. He grabbed his mug from the table and enjoyed another swig of the medicinal beverage, watching John lose the battle.
He saw John stare daggers at his partner when he raised the thermometer, as much as his tired self could muster.
"...'s that necessary?" He rebutted, holding his head up and moving his hand to get a better glaring angle.
"In."
"Is. That. Necessary?"
"Yes. In."
Hank had to hold back a chuckle at the back and forth of his two paramedics. He watched John start a rebuttal, most likely finishing with a rant, but was quickly silenced by a thermometer being shoved in his mouth. A moment of surprise on his face shifted to annoyance, and it didn't take long for John to accept his fate, crossing his arms and bunching his shoulders like a kid would.
The partners then engaged in their silence talk, eyes speaking all the words required. Roy tapped his watch, a way of asking about vitals, and John shrugged before throwing out hands to the side, indicating they changed slightly. That clearly didn't earn the poor man any points with Roy, who crossed his arms, signaling his disappointment in not being told sooner.
Silence then entered the rec room, with John impatiently looking between Hank and Roy until he removed the thermometer on his own, handing it back to Roy. He promptly took a large sip of the tea as he awaited the results.
"99.5." Roy reported blankly.
John hummed in thought, resting his chin in his hand. "Up half a degree since midnight." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "I can still work."
He looked up at his partner, who was promptly shaking the thermometer to get the level back down.
"Cold symptoms can take twenty-four hours to appear, so you've probably been experiencing mild symptoms all shift." Roy concluded, crossing his arms.
To Hank's surprise, John shrugged at that statement, seemingly indifferent.
"I don't...don't feel mild symptoms like I used to." He wiped his nose with the bunched up napkin on the table, clearing whatever gunk rested in his throat. "Mild to me...probably major to everyone.” He paused as he shifted his arm and promptly rested his cheek on it, adding a mumbled, “already cooked my organs once, don’t need t’be checked...”
Hank finally realized the youngest member was referring to his battle with the virus that nearly claimed his life four years ago. To jump from temperature checking to rough words...it wasn't the way he usually acted, even when sick and especially when talking to his partner.
Roy looked like he wanted to argue or say something back of equal roughness, but his words appeared to catch halfway. At the same time, John seemed to realize what exactly he'd just said without considering it, eyes opening slightly wider as he looked up at his partner.
"That..." he let out a shadow breath, breaking eye contact and closing his eyes for a few seconds before staring at his cup.
"You're just...tryin' to help." He let out a single chuckle, eyes watching the steam wisp from the mug. "And I'm runnin' on no sleep and tea."
It was a surprisingly intimate scene playing out before Hank, and he wisely chose to keep quiet and act as a silent observer as Roy pulled a chair out from the table and promptly sat down next to his partner. He reached to land a comforting hand on John's shoulder, who accepted it with no qualms as he held his cup of tea with both hands. He let out a sigh, which earned a few shoulder pats as he sipped the tea again.
John pointed at his partner while holding the mug, a weak yet joking smile on his face. "Bet you...saw the bunk empty 'n panicked."
Roy hummed in thought, sliding his hand from his partner's shoulders. "I wouldn't say I panicked. I figured you couldn't get far."
Hank continued to watch the two converse, as if the last minute hadn't happened. He figured John had someone to watch out for him now, someone that could provide the proper care if needed. Smiling to himself, he finished off the last bit of tea before quietly pushing his chair out and standing up, content that all was well as he headed for the rec room door.