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marsupials-of-mars · 4 years

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It Surfaces on the First Freeze of Winter (Pt 3)

"Yes, I can get the results to you, just give me a moment." Logan sandwiched his phone between his ear and shoulder and reached for his laptop. He opened a new email and attached the Excel spreadsheet full of tediously recorded lab results. He typed up a subject and a brief body and sent it. "I apologize for the wait, this disorganization won't become a habit of mine... yes, I'm suprised as well... no I don't need a sick day." Logan quickly covered the receiver before he sneezed. "Yes... yes I fell into ice water... well thank you for your concern, but it was nobody's mistake but mine... yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am. See you tommorrow, yes. Goodbye." Logan allowed his boss to hang up first. He was relieved that his reputation as a near perfect lab assistant was paying off. He basically had a steel cable safety net with how perfect his record was at that point. He prided himself on his workplace perfection; he and his boss were even working to get him a promotion of some kind. That made it all the more odd that he had forgotten to turn in his data the previous night. Whatever had happened had taken a far greater toll on him then he thought it did, his mind often drifting back to the night's events without his concious effort, making it difficult to focus. He had an urge to go back, to find his attacker and inspect every inch of it, regardless of his schedule or his job or his financial stability. The beast seemed so much more important, no matter what he told himself to the contrary. It felt big, revolutionary, life-changing. He finally gave up. He shut his laptop and grabbed a notebook and writing utensils. He slig them into his work bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Roman! I'm going to work!" Roman's head peeked out through the kitchen doorway. "I thought you didn't have work today? That was the whole reason we went out last night." "I forgot to write it on my schedule I guess." Roman gasped dramatically. "YOU? Forgot to schedule something?! The end must be coming for us all!" Logan rolled his eyes. "Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, simple statistics." "Alright. But take care of yourself, stay hydrated. I'm not gonna let you get sicker after I went through all that trouble pampering you last night." Logan could still almost taste the hot cocoa and chicken chicken noodle soup and feel the blankets wrapped around him from the previous night. "I'll be okay. If it's any consolation, you're in my will. Bedside drawer, you can't miss it." "Shut up!" Logan smiled slightly and pulled on his coat. He grabbed his galoshes and ducked out the door. The drive seemed much longer without Roman, even though they hadn't talked much anyway. Logan gripped the wheel in anticipation. And maybe a hint of guilt for lying to Roman, but he reminded himself of his reasoning. He was a little apprehensive, considering that he was reentering dangerous territory without Roman's extra protection, though he might have been even more scared of the alternative. He tried not to consider that he may have come out for nothing, that he may have to live never finding out what the thing really was. He thought back to Roman's legend, the note that the creature only emerged on the first freeze of winter during a half moon. Logan hoped, considering that that part was a little more ghost-story like, that it was merely dramatization. After all, species weren't nearly that specific. He pulled once again into the empty gravel lot. He checked the temperature. Not freezing, but not warm either. Thirty-eight. He took a breath and gripped the swiss army knife in his coat pocket before stepping out into the chill. The woods looked much different in the day; much less intimidating. Logan plunged into the swamp with little hesitation. It was a bit difficult to locate the scene of his fall considering how dissimilar everything seemed in the light, but after a relatively short amount of time, Logan found it. He dipped his hand into the water and grabbed a piece of hard plastic. He shook out the poor, waterlogged flashlight and tucked it into his pocket. It was of no use to him, but he wasn't one to litter. He looked out intently across the still surface of the water for any disturbance. A few minutes went by. His eyes flicked toward some fresh ripples. Just a twig fallen from a tree overhead. He sighed as he finally began to reflect on what he was doing, how dumb it was, how much time he was wasting. The longer he stood the more stupid he felt. Until he felt something glide across the toes of his boot. He jerked his foot back and reached out for a nearbye tree. He gripped it for stability and retrieved his knife from his pocket. He brandished it down toward the water. Against his better judgement, he forced himself to remain still. Once again, he felt something slide over his foot. It wasn't a tentacle, it was larger, heavier. The body. Logan waited a second longer to be sure. The creature rested its weight against his leg. Logan sucked in a breath. Just as he felt tentacles begin to wrap his foot, he kicked. His leg strained under the weight and his foot was enveloped by boneless flesh, but he managed to throw it off. The beast breached the surface of the water, just long enough for Logan to see a dark green mass of writhing tentacles, before crashing back into the swamp, sending waves tall enough to soak Logan's socks. Logan gripped his blade and plunged his arms in where the creature had fallen. They were met with what he imagined a human corpse would feel like after a month soaked in vinegar. He resisted the urge to let go and wrestled the cephalopod from the water. Before it could slip out of his arms, he strained his back muscles and swung his upper body, effectively granny-tossing the beast into the risen root system of a fallen tree. A chorus of wet flopping sounds accompanied the creature's struggle, similar to one repeatedly lifting spaghetti and dropping it back into a pool of sauce. It soon realized it's helplessness, now tangled uselessly in roots and it's own tentacles, and ceased to thrash. Logan blinked, still reeling from the adrenaline. The cryptid of the Florida swamps. He had it. He hesitantly stepped forward to get a closer look. The creature let out a pitiful noise, a bubbling, growl-type whimper. Logan reached out, and rather than recoiling, the thing reached out as well, matching his approach. Logan retracted his hand, prompting another whine. He inspected the creature: it was primarily a dark grey-green, though it had scalloped patterns of black which grew and shrank, seemingly dependent on it's level of distress. It's eyes were surprisingly human in external shape, though they were a fluorescent green and it's pupils were shaped similar to those of a cuttlefish, in misshapen Ws. Most suprising, though, was that it was vaguely human-shaped, with a similarly proportioned torso and head, though its limbs split off into tentacles. It's beak, which Logan could only assume it had, was hidden under a Cthulu-style beard of tentacles. Overall the creature was abhorrent, in a beautiful sort of way. It was much less terrifying out if water, limp and surprisingly small. While attacking him in the water it had seemed easily larger than Logan, but in reality it was about five feet long at most. It suddenly began to emit some uncomfortable bubbling noises, and before Logan could interfere, it had thrown up a full fish skeleton and a half-digested snake, along with a foamy froth of salt water. "Oh!" Logan once again reached out but stopped himself. He had no plan after this point, a very rare sensation for him. The creature was clearly terrified and couldn't survive long out of water, but if it was returned it could become aggressive. It whined once again, another bit of foam spilling into the water, sending light ripples that lapped at Logan's shins. Logan wracked his brain for anything potentially helpful. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the water, then threw the handful of water at the creature. It hissed at the spray, followed by a long, drawn out rumble in it's throat. It must not have been water it needed. Once again, the creature extended a tentacle toward Logan. It didn't seem aggresive, rather, it was more needy, like a child making grabby hands to be held. A very stupid thought crossed Logan's mind, one that in any other circumstance he would have rejected immediately. But he had nothing better. He bundled the end of his coat sleeve in his fist, allowing no opening. He pocketed his knife and readied his other hand on his zipper. If the creature got ahold of his coat, he could throw it off and escape. He readied himself, and reached his protected hand toward the beast. The cephalopod trilled in what appeared to be joy, and immediately took hold of Logan's arm. Before Logan had the chance to unzip, it had freed itself from the roots and made it's way up his arm, around his shoulders, and squeezed down the back of his coat. Logan froze in shock at the sudden cold sogginess embracing his entire torso. He grabbed a tree with one hand to manage the sudden weight, and with the other, he produced his knife from his pocket. Before he could reach back to defend himself, though, he felt the beast's head nuzzle into his back. It seemed oddly content. Logan blinked and cautiously lowered his knife. If he didn't need to damage the specimen, he supposed he shouldn't. "I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me." Logan found he'd begun speaking to the creature despite himself. It let out a peep, then a series of rumblings. It's tone began to shift, slowly evolving from bubbling to grumbling to vocal outbursts that sounded strangely similar to a human voice. Then something that was hardly expected; "I won't hurt you- -don't hurt me." It wasn't fully human, it was pitched oddly, and sounded vaguely similar to Logan. Like a parrot. Logan's eyes widened and his mind raced. This thing was intelligent. This thing was important. This thing was absolutely incredible. "You talk?! Can you understand?" "-understand?" Logan's astonished breaths billowed out in frozen steam. "Why did you attack me last night? Why aren't you attacking now?" "-aren't- -attacking- -last night?" "You weren't attacking last night? You nearly drowned me. Why?" "Why?" The creature pushed on his back with it's head as if to nudge him on. "You want me to guess? So you can say it?" "-guess?" Logan thought over what had happened. If it wasn't attacking, why would it grab him? Why did it want him now? He shivered. He pulled his coat tighter to block out the cold. The cold... "You're cold blooded, aren't you? You're cold! You need external sources of warmth!" "-warmth!" Logan smiled. Incredible. "If I give you my coat, can I take you off of me?" "-give -coat, can- -take- off-" the creature loosened it's grip. Logan unzipped his coat and pulled it off, making sure it was accessible while not dropping it. The specimen climbed around to the front of his torso and oozed into the garment in his arms. Logan held the thing to his chest. "Do you need water? Most octopuses can survive out of water in moist environments for thirty to sixty minutes but it's rather dry out right now..." "-moist-" "You need water?" "-moist-" "What do you need?" "-moist-" Logan squinted. "Do you just like saying 'moist'?" "-'moist'? -'moist'? -'moist'?" The creature trilled in amusement. It had a sense of humor. Not a very good one at that, but it was another sign of an incredibly advanced organism. Logan waded over to the fallen tree and carefully set the beast down to free his arms. It's posterior tentacles wrapped the trunk for stability while it's anterior tentacles clustered into the coat sleeves. It bundled itself up and nuzzled into the fabric. Logan pulled his notebook from his drybag, sat on a nearbye tree, and began to sketch. He wasn't quite as good as Roman, but he could do structure. He held his pencil up to judge proportion and translated it to the grids of graph paper. His elation grew as he managed a scientific sketch. After ten minutes or so, the creature once again began to whine. Logan looked up from his work and tucked his notebook back into the drybag. He stood and made his way to his specimen. Upon touching his coat, he found that his prior body heat had left it and it had become fully damp and cold with salt water and mucus. The beast whined again. Logan checked his watch. He'd been gone nearly three hours, and it was another hour drive back. He'd need to leave soon for lunch. He was once again met with a dilemma. If he left the creature in the swamp, it would suffer in the cold. But he couldn't really bring it with him, and the swamp was it's habitat. It had presumably survived for twenty plus years having surfaced every freeze. "I'm going to leave. Can I have my coat?" The creature whimpered loudly, echoing out into the forest. "-my coat?" "No, it's my coat. I'll be back, and I'll bring you something warm that you can have, okay? Yes or no." The beast huffed. "-no." Logan sighed. "I promise I'll be back. I know you must be extremely cold... fine. You can keep the coat for tonight, but I'm taking it back tommorrow and giving you something you can keep." The specimen squeaked with joy and bundled itself tighter in the coat. "Try to keep it as dry as you can, or it won't be warm, okay?" "Yes- -keep." Logan reached out and layed his hand on the creature's head. It pushed up into his palm in response, relishing the warmth. Logan stepped back, allowing it to slip out of the coat and back into the water. It swam a few laps around him and once between his legs before poking it's bright green eyes out of the water. Logan made sure he had everything, patting his pockets. "Well. I'll be back... probably tommorrow morning. I have work at night." Logan doubted the beast knew what work was, but he found himself telling it anyway. "Do you... want me to call you something in particular?" "-call- -me-" the creature finished it's sentence with a loud trill, followed by a low growl and ending in a hiss. "Ree...mmm...sss." Logan felt ridiculous trying to name the beast based on it's inhuman noises, but he found himself playing along anyway. "Remus. Like twin. You seem to be a mimic octopus of sorts, with your color changes and vocal abilities. It's perfect. It can be your species name too. I don't quite know your genus, or even your phylum really with any certainty... but I can name your species, I can't imagine anyone has yet. Does that sound like a good name?" Remus darted around Logan's legs for a few more laps and surfaced once again, eyes bright. "Remus. -perfect. -good name?" Logan smiled. "Glad to hear it. I should tell you my name then, shouldn't I? Logan. I'm Logan." "Logan. -good name?" Remus twirled in the water. "Logan." "I'm glad you think so." Logan stared at the creature a few moment's longer before turning and heading back to his car. "Oh no you don't!" Logan turned to see Roman pointing accusingly. "Don't be a shut in! I gathered some ridiculous movies and you're going to watch one with me." Logan looked down at his sandwich and back up the stairs. He usually ate in his room, though he knew Roman disliked it for some reason. He sighed. "Okay." He turned back and gently set his plate on the coffee table. Before he could sit out of his own volition, Roman wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him down onto the couch. "ROMAN!" "Hm? There a problem?" Roman released his hold and blinked at Logan with innocent puppy dog eyes. Logan shoved him, breaking his facade into a quick bout of laughter. "You're an absolute menace." Logan fixed his hair and brushed himself off. "So what movies are you suggesting?" "Well, I wanted to be topical even if last night didn't go as well as we hoped." Roman flicked through his Netflix queue. "Our first option; The Creature from the Black Lagoon!" He imitated an old horror announcer, wiggling his fingers as if there were blood dripping down an imaginary title card in front of him. "Sound's patently ridiculous." "Exactly! Who doesn't like to riff on old horror flicks?" "I'm not generally one to 'riff'." Roman sighed. "I suppose not... then I guess that rules out 'Swamp Thing' too. Well if we want to take a bit of a departure we've got 'The Shape of Water'." Roman wiggled his eyebrows seductively. Logan winced. That was not something he necessarily enjoyed thinking about considering his morning. "Alright. We can watch Swamp Thing." "YES! You can be the Tom Servo to my Jonah!" "I will not be doing any riffing." Roman sighed. "Well then I'll do enough for the both of us." The show was as ridiculous as Logan had expected, and Roman's commentary, although silly, was quite entertaining. He found he had been subconsciously moving closer on the couch, not noticing until his shoulder touched Roman's. Roman looked over, but turned away quickly, almost as if he hadn't noticed at all. Within the minute though, he made another jab at the movie, using his resulting bout of laughter to slip an arm over Logan's shoulders. Not the most subtle or original of come-ons, but Logan's face flushed nonetheless. He returned the gesture by leaning into Roman's hold. The relative chaos of the last couple days was nearly forgotten in the moment. Logan spent the rest of the day brainstorming. He didn't want to reveal his secret to Roman quite yet, so he needed excuses to get out of the house. Of course work would be one, but that only made him think about how he'd manage his work as well as his escapades. The most clear but also most insane idea would be to bring Remus closer to him, but that was out of the question. He had nowhere to put it, Roman would most certainly find out, and their landlord hardly allowed guinea pigs let alone swamp monsters. Then that brought up another problem, being the creature's misery in the cold. Logan was certain it had lived through intense cold fronts before, but that didn't mean its suffering was to be brushed off. Logan chose to focus on the heat issue first and foremost. He considered ways to allow Remus relative warmth without removing it from its habitat. Anything electric would be unwise considering the water and distinct lack of electrical outlets in the middle of the forest. Coats were barely helpful either; the creature was cold blooded, so as soon as the coat lost warmth it would have no way to regain it. It would simply function as a windbreaker of sorts. Logan thought a moment. He pulled out his laptop and did a quick search. The idea was expensive, but doable. It would definitely be a good way to get the beast on his side. Logan found where to buy such a gift and closed his computer. He trotted down the stairs, grabbing a jacket on the way to the door. "Going for groceries!" "Don't strain yourself specs!" Logan ducked out the door and once again into his car. He started it, though before he pulled out he noticed the fuel gauge, indicating he was near empty. He sighed. This project was going to cost him an awful lot of gas.

#remus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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noncommitalshrug-blog · 7 years

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Keeping up with the Joneses

Part 3

Jughead smiled. Not his typical crooked half-smile/half-smirk, but a real smile, that was so rarely present on his face that his cheek muscles actually ached with disuse. He clung to his sister’s small, familiar frame. A swirl of memories and emotions crashed through him like an invisible force. Flashes of pain, anger, despair, and longing all mixed together in an undertow that made remembering to breathe difficult. Tears of joy and pain of the long separation landed from Jellybean’s eyes onto her brother’s jacket and from his eyes onto her hair and shoulder.

Archie watched the long wished-for moment with happiness. There was nothing in the world that his best friend had wanted more than to be with his baby sister again. But she seemed older to Archie… not in age, but in her eyes. Eyes of someone who had seen more than she was ready to see… Like her brother’s eyes, when his father entered the same room that he was in; resolved and with an almost feral preparedness for some terror or pain that may suddenly come from some unknown source.

Archie swallowed those musings down deep inside of himself. He had more pressing concerns… like the clumpy white blobs falling gently down from the night sky. Archie looked down at the pavement which was beginning to get a dusting of snow. It was sticking.

“Hey, Jellybean!” He approached the siblings slowly, reluctantly. The young girl smiled broadly, wiping unshed tears from her eyes,

“Hi Archie! Long time no see!”

“What? No hug for your “adopted” brother? See if I let you beat me at Super Smash Bros. later…”

He teased.

She gave Archie a huge smile, “Like you’d have to let me… I’ll beat you even if I play cross-eyed.” She gave the red-haired boy a warm hug.

The two older boys laughed at the boast.

Archie jerked his thumb towards Main Street,

“We better started heading back, the snow is already coming down pretty good.” He eyed Jughead meaningfully.

The dark-haired boy nodded, the unspoken warning accepted. The street lights’ yellow glare showed snow on Archie’s sweatshirt hood which poked out from under the collar of his bomber jacket. Jughead sniffled liquidly, wiping his nose on his sleeve as subtly as he could; repressing a shiver. The snow was melting quickly into his coat collar, icy water trickling down his neck and upper back. He pulled up his collar against the cold, wet invasion. He instantly thought of Jellybean.

Jughead reached over, pulling her puffy winter coat’s hood up and over the purple woolen beanie and in the same fluid movement, zipped her jacket up higher. She rolled her eyes at his hovering, but allowed her brother this small victory. He smiled at her reaction, satisfied that she was guarded against the elements. But his traitorous nose seemed to notice his distraction, and forced him to sniffle again quickly. The sharp rush of cold air set a tingling buzz coursing through his nasal passages. He winced, shaking his head and sniffling again trying to dispel the sensation.

Jellybean watched this event play across her brother’s face with curiosity, but said nothing. He rubbed his nose with the edge of his coat cuff again, which proved to be the turning point of his battle. He gasped as the fiery tickle intensified and two rapid hitching breaths later,

“Heh-Heh-HEDDDTSSSHHAAH!!!” Jughead spun on his heel away from his sister as the sneeze overtook him and ducked into his shoulder to avoid spreading this virus further. He cringed inwardly and turned back toward Archie and Jellybean with a forced smile. “Whoo… That came out of nowhere!” At least it was only one this time. He stole a glance at Archie’s face. The red-head sighed and returned his glance with one of apprehension and pity.

“Bless you, Juggie… Are you okay…?” Jellybean searched her brother’s face for answers. He just grinned at her, seemingly amused by her concern,

“I’m just fine, Jellybean, or should I be calling you “JB” now?” He attempted to change the subject of discussion.

“Are you sure?” came the persistent question, along with a small tilt of her head that reminded Archie of a small bird.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry so much. You’ll get wrinkles.” He playfully pulled her hood down over her eyes.

Anxious to return home (and to get his friend out of this weather) Archie took matters into his own hands with an exaggerated shiver,

“Brrrr! Guys, it’s freezing out here… Let’s head back to my house.” The ploy worked and the trio began the trek back to the Andrews’ house.

Jellybean hesitated, “We aren’t staying with Dad…?” she asked her brother slowly. Jughead’s face darkened,

“No, sis, he’s not at home right now,”said Jughead, avoiding the questions that he could not truthfully answer without hurting her more: Where was Dad? Didn’t he want to see her? Did he know she was here? He tried to put a positive spin on the situation,

“Archie missed you too, so we planned for us to stay at his house. He has all the fun video games anyway…”

Jellybean nodded. Her small face, was all at once, alight with evil plotting, “Can we have pineapple pizza, too?”

Archie pretended to throw-up noisily, at the mere mention of the unique pie-ingredient. She shoved him away, as equally disgusted by his evaluation of her preference, as he was pretending to be of her tastebuds’ poor lifechoices.

Jughead put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side,

“Anything you want.” He was rewarded with a bright smile.

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By the time they turned onto the quiet old street, the snow was coming down heavily. The muffled sounds of their laughs and joking falling flat in the cold, dry air. Jellybean held the hands of both boys, relishing their kindness, and company. Every so often, Archie glanced over to watch her as she looked towards her brother, full of joy and contentment.

They tromped up the porch stairs kicking clumps of snow from their boots. The stripped off their cold, drippy jackets, hats, and coats, hanging them on the coat rack behind the door. Archie went to start heating the pizza and Jughead helped Jellybean unpack her things, badgering her to take a warm shower before the pizza was ready.

Laughing at his mother-henning, Jellybean finally conceded,

“Fine, Juggie! I’ll go. Criminies…”

Only she had pushed the old creaking bathroom door shut and he heard the water running, did Jughead finally release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He checked out his appearance in the hall mirror, making a face. The mimed image grimaced back at him, pale with a violently rose-colored nose, dripping curls, and wind-chapped cheeks. His nose was running again.

“Crap.” He muttered, thoroughly perturbed with his body’s crummy immune system. Jughead swiped his nose on his long-sleeved black shirt. He sighed, running a hand absently through his unruly, wet hair; hoping against all odds that he could keep this weekend as a truly happy, carefree memory for Jellybean and for himself.

Jughead shivered again, his dark-hair shaking droplets of snow melt onto his shoulders, causing him to rub his arms to ward off the chill that still lingered. He grabbed his obligatory commemorative sweatshirt from the Blue & Gold, pulling it over his head. He smirked at how much he had argued against this trite ritual of school activities, citing the wearing of such a piece of clothing lacked originality and was just another way that the school was encouraging voluntary conformity. He had never loved the ugly blue sweatshirt more than he did at that very moment.

He went down to the kitchen quickly, knowing Archie’s home-economics skills left much to be desired. Jughead had found, through trial and error (mostly error), that it was best not to leave the red-haired boy in charge of anything flammable for too long.

The kitchen was not on fire. This was a good sign. Jughead walked into the kitchen, smelling sweetness and savory smells emanating from the oven. Suddenly, there was a flash of color as his vision disappeared. A huge towel swallowed his head with a “thwuff” sound.

“Oof… Damnit, Archie!”

Hands rubbed his damp curls vigorously, but not roughly.

Archie, moving the towel as he dried, eventually came eyeball to eyeball with a miffed Jughead. Struggling not to grin at the expression of annoyance on his friend’s face, Archie continued his way along the back of the smaller boy’s neck and ears.

“Are y’done?!?” came the irritated question, half-muffled by the towel.

“I didn’t think you’d have enough sense to dry off, so I decided to be prepared.” said the larger boy with a shrug and a smiled creeping over his face. Jughead’s hair, notoriously stubborn, (due to it’s proximity a stubborn mind) had gone the way of the late eighties hair bands and was sticking up at odd angles, being statically charged from the towel.

Jughead sniffled, rubbing his nose gently with one finger,

“Does that include not burning the pizza?” Archie looked into the oven worriedly, but without cause: the pizza was perfectly golden brown on the edges. He removed the pizza, placing it on the island on a potholder. He gave the dark-haired boy a withering look over the slight against his non-existent cooking abilities.

As Archie began to slice the pie, he discreetly tried to figure out is their trip to the depot had taken its toll on the smaller boy. Jughead still looked pale, he wasn’t coughing as much now, and he didn’t seem feverish when Archie had toweled him off. Reassured that, at least, for right now, Jughead was holding his own against his sickness, the larger boy breathed a sigh of relief.

A cry of “PIZZA!” carried through the house, as Jellybean dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Vegas trotted beside her, equally enthused about the choice of food.

The simple dinner was quickly demolished by the hungry quartet (Vegas scarfing down every unwanted crust and occasional dropped pepperoni that his newest best friend passed along to him.) Archie pulled out the sofa bed and made it up for Jelly bean while her brother microwaved hot chocolate in the kitchen and she selected “Cats & Dogs”. Archie raised his eyebrows at her choice; she simply smiled,

“What? I love talking animals!”

“I didn’t say anything… but it’s good to know you haven’t changed that much…” Archie bent down and messed up her hair.

“Hey! I’ll get you back when we play Nintendo later!” She declared. Archie tossed two pillows onto the sofa bed and plopped onto the floor beside her, pretending to yawn.

“I’m not even sure I’ll m-make it… (Yawn) through the movie at this rate. I’m beat.” The earlier he got everyone to get to sleep, the better the chances that Jughead’s body would have be able to beat this cold.

Jughead brought in the steaming mugs of chocolate, nose twitching with irritation. He set down the mugs and mumbled,

“I-I’ll b-be baaahck…(Sniifle) Bathroom-break.”

“Hurry up!” yelled Jellybean, distractedly, putting on the DVD. Archie frowned, unable to hear over the DVD advertisements. He got up, making an excuse of finding popcorn, and took a right down the hall to the downstairs bathroom.

The muffled explosions that he heard through the door came rapidly,

“HEH-GSSSHMMF! HEHHCCT! heh-EH-GHmmmft! HEShccmmmf! Ugh…eh-heh-Hehhh-ggggshh!!!” This unsettling chorus of sneezes, began violent and urgent and trailed off into a deep, gurgling nose blow followed by an exhausted-looking Jughead opening the door. He jumped about a foot, causing the door to jerk.

“Geezus, Arch!” He bit back a yelp of surprise which dissolved into a small fit of dry, painful-sounding coughs. Jughead ducked his head into the collar of the sweatshirt, so that it covered his nose and mouth, quickly silencing the fit into the hoodie’s lining, his hands pressing the fabric to his face.

“Sorry…” said Archie, looking at his friend with no small amount of worry, “You sound awful… I thought you were doing better than this. I shouldn’t have let you…”

“Hold it…” said the dark-haired boy, “I’m gonna stop you right there. You didn’t let me… I went, I’ll deal… Got it? Staying here wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway. Guilt-tripping yourself needlessly won’t fix it either. I’ve been through worse, hell, you’ve seen me go through worse than this. I’ll be fine. I’ll call it an early night after the movie.”

“Okay.” Archie said dejectedly. He let Jughead push past him and watched as the tired boy sat heavily on the sofa bed next to Jellybean. She was so absorbed with watching the movie, that she didn’t notice her brother’s dark hair duck twice in quick succession as he pinched his nose in two completely silent stifles. He shook his head to clear it briefly and pulled the old afgan and quilt a little more snugly around her sister. He stroked her hair and pulled her closer to his side. Archie rejoined the group, and passed around the nearly forgotten hot cocoa, trying to lose his worries in the ridiculous movie.

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Before the ending credits, Jellybean was asleep, in spite of all her late-night plans of videogaming.

Archie watched as her brother’s head came to rest on top of hers, Jughead’s clear eyes drooping. The red-head got up careful not to disturb the sleeping girl. He gently roused Jughead, who blinked in confusion. Archie put a finger to his lips and gestured to Jughead’s left. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy’s tiredness was forgotten. Jughead smiled, easing Jellybean’s head off his shoulder and laying her down onto the sofa bed softly. He pulled another blanket over her sleeping form and quietly left the darkened room with his best friend.

Once upstairs, Archie tried to get Jughead to take his bed,

“At least for tonight!” He argued. Sadly, whether he didn’t get his mother’s skill at pleading a case or whether Jughead just knew his tactics too well, he still couldn’t convince his friend.

“It’s better this way. She’ll come tearing in here tomorrow and jump on you by accident trying to wake me up! I’ll be fine on the air mattress. I swear.”

Archie sighed and passed Jughead a couple of Nyquil capsules and a glass of water,

“Fine, but you are taking these.” The implied “or else” was clear.

Jughead swallowed the pills in one gulp with a healthy swig of water.

“Done. Happy now?”

“Yeah, for the moment.”

“Well, I hope the moment lasts a while, cause I’m going to sleep. Night.” Jughead crawled under the comforter and unceremoniously passed out.

Archie stayed up a bit longer, watching the snow fall outside and listening to the soft, congested snores coming from the sick boy on the air mattress. He wished he could take this sickness from the smaller boy, but he would do everything he could to make sure that this cold didn’t get any worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of part 3

#jonessiblings #sickfic #fanfic #riverdale #Jugwhump

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