Page 69 of The Barn: Frost and Q
Frost actually seemed to grin in his sleep, and it felt good to know that, even sound asleep, Frost was listening.
“I mean, seriously. I’ve been keeping tabs on Chauncey, just to let you know. He’s gonna be okay. He’s got some second-degree burns, one third on his back, and he broke the fuck out of his ankle, so I don’t think he’s going to be running any marathons any time soon. But you know, neither are you. So it’s fair.” He settled in his chair, just letting himself ramble.
“I thought I lost you. It’s not the most wonderful thing on Earth, you know. I think about it sometimes, how you must have felt. Because, you know, we’re both…we’re both firefighters. So how many times have I sat waiting for you because of a broken bone or burn or smoke inhalation? Over and over, right? Like days, it seems like.” Quentin took a deep breath, let it out. “But that stuff we…we expect. That’s our normal.”
It was fucked up and shit, but it was absolutely their normal.
“When I got shot, I got kidnapped? That wasn’t normal. That was deeply fucked up. And I think about how hard that had to be—for me to be deeply messed up and for there not to have been a fire involved. I’m sorry that I scared you. I mean, I’m sorry I got shot. That part sucks, but I’m also sorry that you had to do this, and you had to sit and wait and watch and wonder if I was going to be okay. If I was going to wake up, if when I did wake up, if I was going to be me.”
The thought actually made him a little queasy, to be honest. “I mean with you, I know you’re going to wake up, because I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t. And I know that you’re going to cough and your lungs are going to hurt and you have to blow up balloons and do breathing treatments. But I know that you’ll be all right. It must have been so hard.”
He sighed and started rolling back and forth in his own version of pacing. “Yukon wasn’t very happy to be left behind, I’ll have you know. He informed me, in no uncertain terms, that he was a balance dog, and I might need him. I told him I don’t think they’re going to let you go in the hospital, buddy. He was deeply offended. He may never forgive you. I did tell him it was all your fault.”
He talked and talked until he was hoarse about nothing and everything.
Frost was sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted, only waking very briefly to cough hysterically and then sink back down.
And so he chattered.
He chattered and he paced. He talked to nurses and nurse’s aides, who checked vitals and put things in IVs. Everything that they came at Frost with, Quentin asked about. What was it, what was it for, why did he need it?
And then, he watched TV.
Hours of it, it seemed like. There was always a marathon of something running. Law and Order. Some inane food show. He found one of those where people were running around the wilderness, butt naked, being morons. That was vaguely amusing.
He wasn’t sure why people would do it, to be honest. Who wanted to wander around the wilderness naked? It was cold or hot, and there were no computers or air-conditioning or the ability to order pizza at will, all three of which—while Quentin was certified to be a hotshot and a jumper—really he preferred to work the bulk of his magic in the hut with the computers and all of the paperwork.
Yes, that made him kind of crappy because it meant he was capable of being a hero. He just didn’t want to.
He could probably live with that.
“Babe, is that you?” Poor Frost’s voice sounded like he’d been throat fucked with a corn cob.
He rolled right up to the bed and held Frost’s hand. “I’m right here. You’ve been sleeping hard.”
“Yeah, I thought I heard you talking. Could hear you. It let me rest knowing that you were right here.”
“I was. You’re going to be fine. You just needed some rest and some lung treatments and some oxygen.”
“How am I doing there?”
Q glanced at the monitors. It was still at seventy-six and still not great. “So you got a little ways to go. You’re going to have to do some deep breathing shit. It’s going to be blowing up balloons for the next six weeks.”
“Uh-huh, that’s okay.” Frost sighed, so dramatic. “Chauncey?”
“Broken ankle and burns. Real grumpy. I’m bringing them up to the Barn.” It was only fair.
“Well, I bet Carson will love that. We’ve already got Zeke.”
Q snorted and tossed his hair. “Carson can cope.”
Actually, Carson was perfectly happy. He didn’t mind. As far as the man was concerned, permanent residents were just visitors. As long as they were paying, the permanent residents were safe, and they didn’t have to worry near as much about security.
“My eyes are burning.”
“Okay, I’ll call the nurses and get you some eye drops.”
Frost fumbled for his hand. “No, no, no, don’t call them. They don’t need to be in here, yet. They’ll come sure as anything. I love you. You made the right call with them all, I mean, a lot of us?—”
