Page 66 of The Chemist

“None of that,” Zero responded as if anticipating Diesel’s resistance. “You need to shut up and start letting people take care of you.”

Diesel’s heart stopped in his chest.Take care of him?No one had ever taken care of him before, other than Matteo and, occasionally, Jared when he was feeling extra generous.

There had been one time when he was twelve, that his mother and stepfather had decided to go to the monster truck show when he had been sick with a temperature of one hundred and two. At the time, Diesel didn’t realize how strong a fever that actually was, but what twelve-year-old really knows what a high temperature is anyway?

As he grew older, he came to realize the reality of those actions; his parents were monsters and never really gave a crap about him.

Reluctantly, Diesel nodded.

Zero picked up a container, some toast, and a bottle of water before joining him on the bed. Reaching over, Zero placed the soup and the bottle of water on the nightstand.

Carefully, Diesel forced himself to sit up and waited patiently for Zero to pass him the food.

“Not today, mylittle ball of sunshine.” Zero swatted his hand away and began feeding him toast like he was a little kid or something. “Save your strength.”

“I can feed myself,” Diesel grumbled, trying to regain some of his manhood and self-esteem. His body refused to obey his commands.

“I know you can, but I’d like to keep these sheets clean and dry,” he cracked, lifting the lightly buttered toast toward his mouth.

Fine. Feed me like I’m two years old.

“Take a few bites, then we can see how the food settles. At least this will give you a base in your stomach.”

Diesel wasn’t quite sure how he should feel. He didn’t like giving up control to someone else. It almost made him feel weak and out of sorts. But it was also nice knowing that he had someone else around to take care of him. That he could relax and not worry and just focus on getting better.

He didn’t have to do everything for himself.

It felt… kind of nice.

Moving the bread closer to Diesel’s mouth, Zero suddenly froze and stared.

“What? What’s wrong?” Diesel asked, wondering if the man had changed his mind about taking care of him. He couldn’t blame him. Having to feed him and watch him be sick was a lot for any person to take in.

“It’s staring at me.”

Okay.Now he was even more confused.

“What?” His voice pitched upward, having no clue as to what the man was referring to.

“Bruno. I swear his eyes moved when I started bringing the bread closer to your face.” Zero’s eyes flicked up toward Diesel’s. “Does he bite?”

Diesel chuckled. The guy was pure idiocy.

“Only if he’s hungry.”

Turning his attention back to Diesel’s chest, Zero’s eyes narrowed as if challenging the protector inked there.

“Look, Bruno. Your master is not feeling well, and I need to get some bread and water and soup into his skinny little ass before he shrivels up and dies ofgas station sandwichsyndrome. I promise I won’t hurt him, so please don’t bite my hand off.” Zero continued to approach Diesel’s mouth with the piece of toast.

“Fuck, you’re an idiot,” Diesel couldn’t help but acknowledge. He gave a slight chuckle before his stomach barked back at him.

“Hey, I’m not takin’ any chances around that thing. I’m still trying to figure out a way to smother it while we sleep tonight.”

“That’s definitely one way to get your hands bit,” Diesel warned, taking a small bite of the bread being shoved between his lips. He really didn’t feel like eating, but it was nice having someone take care of him. So he would soldier on and pray that he kept the food down.

The smirk tugging at Zero’s lips did all sorts of weird things to the butterflies that were beginning to take up residence inside his belly.

After two tiny bites, they tried some chicken soup. He ate a few spoonfuls before Zero placed the soup down, suggesting that they wait a bit to see how the food settled.

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