Page 67 of Once a Rogue
“You were poisoned by Alasdair? Because you’re paranormal? Even though he clearly is too?”
Sebastian managed a nod. “My drink.”
“Your drink.” Wesley some quick calculations. Sebastian had sipped from a single glass of tonic water over their time in the speakeasy. But he’d had about half of that tonic water remaining when they got ready to leave, and he’d tipped all of it back in one go right before they left. That was half of the poison dose, and he’d imbibed it not that long ago. They had to try.
But this was not going to be pleasant.
“You might be magic,” said Wesley, “but I’m afraid all we’ve got are mortal remedies. And in the first aid kit is a vial of ipecac.”
Sebastian winced.
It was not easy to get a half-conscious man down the hall to the bathroom, and then Wesley had to hold him upright enough to vomit. A middle-aged white drunk staggered in for the loo while Wesley held Sebastian over the sink.
“Oy, Fancy Man, what’d your friend drink?” the man slurred. “Not the Haberdasher’s gin, was it? Got a piece of fedora stuck in my teeth from that rotgut once.” He paused. “Didn’t stop me from another round, though.”
Wesley was never drinking in America again.
Sebastian was possibly even less enthusiastic about being corralled into a cold shower.
“Don’t give me that look, you were a medic, you know this is to bring your temperature down,” Wesley told him, as the first reprobate got into a loud argument with a new drunk who’d stumbled in, and Sebastian somehow found the energy to glower at him while shivering under the spray. “I know it’s a magic fever, but you still have a human body, and I’m trying everything I can think of.”
All in all, it was not going to make anyone’s list ofmost romantic nights.
But Sebastian looked the tiniest bit more alert, as Wesley wrapped him in three towels and got him back to the room. He propped Sebastian on the edge of the mattress again, sitting next to him to keep him up, and then handed him the canteen and two aspirin. “Drink.”
The man and woman from earlier seemed to be getting on quite well, if the noises now coming from the neighboring room were any indication. Wesley tried to ignore the squeaking of cheap springs as he helped Sebastian take several sips of water and then lie down on the mattress.
Wesley shook out the blankets, then stripped off his own suit. He crouched at the edge of the bed so their faces were level. “The next time you try to treat me like lacking magic makes me incompetent, I’m going to remind you of this night,” he said, reaching for the blankets. “Which means you have to make it through, because I won’t have you denying me a chance to gloat.”
That got a tiny smile. It would have been nice to get the smile without the grunts of the man next door, but Wesley would take what he could get.
“Also,” Wesley said, pulling the blankets over Sebastian, “I think I’ve been egregiously underestimating myself. I just held your head while youvomited; whatever this thing we’re doing is called, I’m fucking excellent at it. You’re a very lucky man.”
Sebastian’s eyes were half-lidded, his skin still flushed, but his tiny smile stayed. “Told you.”
Wesley put a hand on Sebastian’s forehead. Still too hot, but at least a bit cooler than he had been. “You were the medic. Am I doing this nurse thing right?”
“Need the uniform,” Sebastian murmured, closing his eyes.
Wesley’s lips twitched. He let his hand linger against Sebastian’s face, just for a moment. Then he said, “Scoot over. Come on.”
He helped Sebastian shift backward, and then Wesley got in the bed too. Sebastian immediately curled into him, and Wesley had to do some awkward maneuvering so he could look at the tattoo. The lion was still coming into focus like the rotations of a lighthouse beam, there one moment, gone the next.
Wesley frowned, and Sebastian must have felt it, because he tensed. “Stay?” he said, eyelids cracking open as he glanced up at Wesley.
“Obviously.”
Sebastian relaxed, eyes trustingly closing again, and it made Wesley’s chest ache. He would not be looking closer at that. There would be no feelings right now; they had to get through the night first.
The couple on the other side of the wall sounded particularly loud now that he and Sebastian were in bed and quiet. “Think you can sleep?” Wesley asked softly.
“Depends on if our neighbors finish,” Sebastian said, without opening his eyes.
Wesley snorted. “Miss Neighbor sounds like she’s having a good time at least.”
“She’s faking,” Sebastian muttered.
“Really?” Wesley tilted his head, and yes, Sebastian was right, her moans did sound staged. “Is she putting on a show for his benefit? Doesn’t say much for Mr. Neighbor’s performance, does it?”
