Chapter Text
Ruggie, as promised, kept waking up as the morning went on. And, as promised, he often was asleep no more than a handful of minutes later.
Meant it took an annoyingly long time to convey to the hyena that he was not, in fact, okay to just get up and go back to the dorm immediately no matter how often he claimed he was fine, to finally get it across that he had indeed missed a whole night of time while asleep, and then to calm him down when he realized, on top of missing dinner and breakfast, he’d also been missing one of the part-time gigs he was supposed to work that morning.
It was only once Ruggie was on the fourth or fifth round of waking, after Jack had left to have lunch and give a round of updates to folks outside of the infirmary, that he was able to stay awake long enough for any sort of meaningful conversation.
Though, maybe meaningful wasn’t the right word for it.
“Why’re there flowers?” Ruggie asked, squinting at the table off to the side that had been piled with get-well gifts. His would-be visitors the previous night had been prompted to leave them with the nurses, and the nurses had done as they said they would and delivered them to Ruggie’s room.
Leona, currently with his feet against Ruggie’s bed frame so he had the leverage to tilt his chair back, said, “Kinda what you do when someone’s in the hospital, Ruggie. You got cards too.”
Ruggie fiddled with the nasal cannula they’d replaced the mask with after deeming Ruggie’s breathing consistent enough to not need something keeping pace for him. “Don’t want flowers. Want food.” He looked back over at Leona. “They should know that.”
“You’re gonna be on bland food for a while anyway, so it’s not like you could even eat whatever they got you.”
Ruggie huffed a sigh, leaned back against the head of the bed. “Sucks.”
“Noted.”
This version of Ruggie unsettled Leona, was the thing. Half there, foggy, ears drooping to the side like it was too much to keep them consistently upright. No barbed comments or sly backtalk, the sharp words that should be so often thrown at Leona. Instead just vague, frustrating arguments.
Seemed almost childlike, and that made Leona’s stomach churn to think about. Almost enough to make Leona want Ruggie to fall asleep again.
“If they’re gonna lock me up in here, could at least get better food,” Ruggie said, because of course he was still on the food thing.
Leona growled, annoyed. “You’re not locked in here. The door doesn’t even have a lock on it.”
“Then why’m I not allowed to leave?”
“‘cause you got poisoned so bad you puked blood,” Leona snapped, flattening his ears. “Pretty sure if you walk outta this room, you’re gonna pass out halfway back to the dorm.”
Ruggie gave him a look. “‘m fine, though.”
“Y’got poisoned less than twenty-four hours ago. You’re not fine —”
A knock, on the door. Leona’s ears pricked. Even before he or Ruggie could say anything, the door opened.
The nurse that entered was familiar, one of the three that had Ruggie on their rotation, but she was accompanied by a woman who was decidedly not.
A hyena beastwoman, one Leona didn’t recognize. Short, solid-stanced, with the wiry sort of muscles that spoke of years of manual labor, and the worn clothing to match. Dark hair, streaked with grey, tied back into a knot behind her head.
Leona had one brief moment of confusion. And then realization crept over his shoulders, even as the sheets rustled next to him. “Grammy,” Ruggie said, and his voice cracked over the word.
“Kiddo,” she said, and crossed the room in a few large steps. Without even glancing anywhere else, at Leona included, she was leaning over the bed, practically sweeping Ruggie into her arms.
And the way Ruggie’s hands went up to grasp at the back of his grandmother’s shirt, knuckles nearly white —
This wasn’t for Leona. He was out of his seat in an instant, leaving out the door.
Didn’t make it far.
He’d been nearly out of the hallways that led to the infirmary when he’d heard the noise from the cafeteria, students coming and going in the weekend lunchtime rush, and that had seemed like too much. Didn’t want to go back to the waiting room, not when it would be a little too obvious what he was doing. Instead, he set up camp on one of the stone walls encircling the green near the infirmary, overlooking Ramshackle and the woods beyond it.
It was Jack who stumbled on him first, his footsteps recognizable before even saying anything. The kid’s quiet, “Housewarden?” had an edge to it, something almost worried.
“His gram’s here,” Leona said, not looking at Jack.
“Got it,” Jack said, taking a seat on the wall nearby Leona. Then asked, “Lunch?”
When Leona jerked his head around, ready to snap that there was no way he was going to the cafeteria, Jack tossed him a sandwich. Thank his Spelldrive reflexes that the thing didn’t go sailing off the cliffside that the courtyard wall overlooked.
The question must’ve been clear on his face, because Jack continued, “Pretty sure you didn’t eat breakfast, so.”
Leona snorted, too tired to really be all that annoyed at the mothering or whatever Jack was trying to pull. “Ruggie’s rubbin’ off on you. What d’I owe you?”
“Five thaumarks.”
Leona pulled out his wallet, riffled through it, extracted a bill and held it out to Jack. When Jack looked at the bill, then back at Leona without taking it, Leona shrugged. “More trouble ‘n it’s worth breakin’ them down, and I owe you for yesterday. Ruggie usually keeps the change.”
“Right,” Jack said hesitantly, and accepted the fifty thaumark bill like it was a precious gem or something. Only when the bill was safely stowed away in his own wallet did he glance back at the infirmary. “My book’s in there,” he said, almost wistful.
“Get comfy, then,” Leona said, unwrapping the sandwich.
It tasted mostly like nothing, and swallowing was hard, but Jack was right there, and so it wasn’t like Leona had much of a choice.
Was watching him, even. Finally, after the kid glanced over one too many times, Leona swallowed, mumbled, “You can ask whatever you wanna ask, Jack.”
Jack glanced away. Hesitated for a moment before asking, “Any word on who did it? Put the — y’know.”
Leona growled through another bite of the sandwich. “Nah. Vendor’s one we’ve trusted for years. Neji thinks the contaminated candies were mixed in with the normal ones at some point, but they’re tryin’ to figure out when. Gonna probably be a long time ‘fore they figure it out, and then the palace’ll take care of it.”
“Frustratin’,” Jack muttered, still not looking at Leona.
“No kiddin’.” Having someone to go after might finally distract Leona from the tightness in his chest.
They lapsed into silence. Maybe fifteen minutes later, the infirmary door opened.
Leona had stretched out on top of the courtyard wall, trying, again unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. The sound of footsteps coming towards them, quick and purposeful, had him blinking his eyes open. Was almost unnerving how much her steps sounded like her grandson’s.
Leona turned his head, got another look at Grammy Bucchi, one hand on her hip and a box under the other, as she stopped in front of him and Jack, asked, “You’re my grandcub’s friends, yeah?”
“Mrs. Bucchi?” Jack asked, tentatively, as Leona sat up.
“You can call me Gram, kid. Half the kids in the neighborhood do.”
“Right,” Jack said, in a tone that said he was very much not going to do that, and held out a hand. “I’m Jack Howl. Ruggie’s my senpai.”
“I’m his housewarden,” Leona said as Mrs. Bucchi shook Jack’s hand.
She gave Leona a look, one she definitely didn’t give Jack, but accepted his handshake too, saying, “You’re the prince, then?”
Like Ruggie, she didn’t say it with an ounce of fear or intimidation. Nor did she temper her gaze like the hyenas in the palace had a tendency to do, looking down or to the side rather than looking Leona in the eye. A lot of things about Ruggie were starting to make sense.
“That’s me,” he said.
Her eyes were sharp, unflinchingly appraising. Made Leona want to curl his shoulders in under it. She tilted her head, stated, “He talks about you a lot, you know.”
Leona would love to know if that included the fact he’d nearly turned Ruggie to sand a few months ago. “I’m sure I’m his favorite topic to complain about.”
“Sure,” she said, “sometimes.”
Sometimes?
And then she was looking away, pulling into both hands the box that had been tucked under her arm. “Anyway, these are for him.” After eyeing Leona, then Jack, then Leona again, she ultimately shoved the box in Jack’s hands, which Leona felt like he should take offense with. “If I leave them with the cub he’s gonna ignore the doctor and eat ‘em right away. They’ll keep until he’s able to have real food again.”
“What are ‘they’?” Jack asked, holding the box like it was going to fall to pieces in his hands.
“Donuts. Make ‘em for him on special occasions, like his birthday. Figure gettin’ poisoned in the place of the heir of the Savanna qualifies as a special occasion.”
Leona’s ears flattened before he could stop himself. It didn’t escape Mrs. Bucchi’s notice, not by the way her eyes flitted up and then back down.
She didn’t say anything about it, though. Just said, “Right, I’m off.” And then, looking at Leona, “Keep an eye on my grandson, would you?”
“Sure,” he said, quieter than he’d intended to. The problem, Leona thought, was that it too often was Leona’s eye on Ruggie when these things happened.
When Leona returned to Ruggie’s room, the hyena was already asleep again. Leona ignored the red, puffy look to his closed eyes. That wasn’t for him either.
By the time dinner rolled around, the fog had mostly gone from Ruggie’s eyes. Medication related, according to the doctor, as they’d started to ease up on the more heavy-duty ones, painkillers especially, alongside removing some of the more involved monitoring equipment like the heart monitors on his chest.
Meant, of course, that Ruggie was more and more apt to wince whenever he straightened up or reached for something, even if he dutifully answered, “Fine,” whenever someone — usually Jack — asked how he was feeling.
Leona suspected Ruggie was in more pain than he was willing to admit, even to the nurses. Between his shoulder and the damage to his stomach and the severe headache that was supposed to be common with warlock’s dwale, it would be a wonder if he wasn’t in pain. But he, apparently, wasn’t willing to just say that.
And Leona still couldn’t fall asleep like he normally did. Set his teeth on edge.
“Gram made it home safe,” Ruggie informed the room as a nurse set up for dinner on one of the spare tables. He held up his phone, recently returned to him, by way of explanation.
Leona blinked, tail flicking. She’d left? “What, she’s not stayin’ on the island?”
“Got a lotta kids back home won’t eat unless she’s there to feed ‘em,” Ruggie said, like that was a thing that made any sense to say about a woman who, as far as Leona had been told, had no children left alive and no other grandchildren aside from Ruggie. “Food ready yet?”
“Coming right up, Mr. Bucchi,” said the nurse, clear amusement laced through his tone. He stepped away from the table and up to Ruggie’s bed, a cup of potion in one gloved hand. “I do need you to drink this before we can let you eat, though. It’ll help your stomach heal.”
Ruggie grimaced as the nurse passed him the potion. “Is that that stuff that tastes like chalk? Got a dose at lunch too. S’gross.”
“Thought food was food,” Leona grumbled.
“Medicine isn’t food, boss.” The tone in Ruggie’s voice said that he was of the belief that that should be obvious. And then, when Leona eyed him with narrowed eyes, “Didn’t say I ain’t gonna drink it.”
Ruggie tilted the cup up, swallowed the dose of potion in one gulp like he was trying to get it over with as fast as possible.
The wrong thing to do, maybe, because Ruggie shuddered and then gagged, something that must’ve been autonomous, triggered by the taste Ruggie had already complained about. And that wouldn’t have been so bad if it didn’t start Ruggie coughing.
Jack jumped forward immediately, one hand bracing Ruggie’s uninjured shoulder, helping keep him upright. Necessary, considering Ruggie’s torso was already starting to curl, a reaction to his chest spasming as he coughed, and coughed —
“S’okay,” Ruggie said, gasping when he managed to inhale. “‘m good.”
Leona stood, the chair scraping loudly against the stone floor as his legs knocked it back. Made Ruggie flinch, Jack’s head jerk up to face Leona. But Leona couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to cushion the reaction, because his chest felt tight, like his ribs were locked together.
“Housewarden,” Jack said, still looking at Leona, and the tone of it, too soft, made Leona’s stomach clench.
Leona didn’t mean to slam the door behind him as he fled the room, but it slammed all the same.
It took Ruggie a worrying amount of time to come completely off the coughing fit, long enough that Jack’s hand was starting to shake a little where it was bracing Ruggie’s shoulder. It did fade though, and the nurse assured both Ruggie and Jack it was normal, that it was just his lungs recovering from the brief, unfortunate contact with some stomach acid.
Still, by the way he sighed, settled back into the bed, Jack could tell that Ruggie didn’t see that as much of a consolation, especially when it earned him more time with the mask on his face until his breathing was a little more steady.
“Where’d Leona go?” Ruggie finally asked, once the mask had come off again and the nurse had deigned to leave them be while Ruggie ate the rice and applesauce that served as his dinner for the night.
“No idea,” Jack replied. He’d been checking his phone every so often, but nothing from Leona. “Maybe just needed a breather.”
Ruggie snorted. “He’s pissed at me.”
“What?” And then, when Ruggie just looked over at him, “Ruggie, what are you even talkin’ about?”
“Not sure what else you can call it but pissed off, Jack.” Ruggie shrugged, a mostly-hidden wince accompanying it as he moved his bruised shoulder. “Snappy, ears back, tail goin’. Been like that all day.”
Okay, but — “Why would he be mad at you?”
“Dunno, ‘cause I fell off my broom or something. Supposed to be the one he can trust on the broom or whatever. And not like I can work like this.”
“You were poisoned?” Jack found his own ears creeping backwards, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice.
“So?”
“So, it’s not like it can be your fault — ”
Ruggie cut Jack off with a huffed sigh. “Don’t exactly matter why if I can’t work. ‘f he cuts me loose ‘cause I’m not reliable, I’m cut loose. Happened before, and I got sanded last time, so better this than the alternative.”
“Why are you so convinced he’s gonna cut you off?”
“‘cause that’s what happens when y’can’t work, Jack. Survival of the fittest ‘n all.”
“Ruggie, I don’t think — You know you coulda died, right?” For an hour or two, in that waiting room, it had felt like Ruggie had died, with all the talk of poison and Leona not giving Jack anything more to know it might be okay.
But Ruggie just barked out a short, joyless laugh. “Sure, but I didn’t die, so what’s it matter? Old news, at this point.”
“What’s it matter — ?” Jack could feel his lip curling, and, maybe worse, something that felt too much like tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. Had to consciously walk it back when he said, “Ruggie. C’mon.”
But Ruggie’s eyebrows were still pressed low over his eyes, an expression unnervingly sharp on his face. “What matters is that I’m still locked in a hospital room and I can’t do nothin’, and if Leona cuts me off I gotta figure out how to make up the difference. You gonna get upset I’m plannin’ ahead?”
While Ruggie could be better than Leona in most aspects, he was sometimes still one of the most frustrating people Jack had met in his entire life. “Y’know, whatever. I’m done arguin’.” Felt like, if it kept up, he might actually lose it. “Just don’t get why you think he’s even mad at you.”
And at that Ruggie tilted his head, gave Jack a smile a touch too bitter to feel smug. “If he’s not, then why’s he keep lookin’ at me the way he’s been doin’, Jack? Watch. He’s gonna come back here and be just as mad as when he left, and it’s gonna get worse every time he looks at me.”
Leona returned to the room in silence around an hour later, a scowl fixed on his face. Eyed Ruggie as he settled into the chair that had become his, and his ears flicked back. Ruggie said nothing, but Jack shortly received a text that said only told u so.
Jack wasn’t sure how he was supposed to change Ruggie’s mind when Leona wasn’t helping his own case.
Hospitals kinda sucked, Ruggie had decided.
Not like he had all that much experience with them. Few times he’d seen doctors before admittance to NRC were the free clinics sometimes set up at the edge of the slums by some charity or another, and those were usually all run out of tents. First time actually seeing a doctor in a room with permanent walls was during his first few weeks of school, when they’d made anyone who hadn’t had a recent physical come in and get one. He hadn’t particularly loved that, not with the critical looks the doctors couldn’t hide when he was honest about things like how often he was able to eat consistently or how few vaccinations he’d gotten before coming to school.
A couple other visits here and there over his first year, either to get patched up after various minor scrapes or run errands for Leona. And then there was the Spelldrive tournament, and all that came with it.
They’d admitted him in the infirmary overnight then too, to treat both the damage Leona’d done to his arm and the resulting dehydration, as well as the injuries caused by players from other teams getting their revenge for the whole plot. But that’d been brief, mostly taken up by sleeping overnight, and the time he was awake was at least interesting, what with all the chaos that accompanied the Ramshackle prefect plus the bonus visit by Cheka.
Now, going on the second full day of being practically imprisoned, things really were starting to get old. There was too much waiting with little to distract him, too much of being told what he was and wasn’t allowed to do by a person who was supposed to be an authority on medical things. And, more and more pressing, too much of a grumpy lion that was refusing to actually say anything actionable despite clearly still being in a dour mood.
By round about lunchtime Leona had sunk low in the chair, so low that his back was mostly resting on the seat of the chair, a position that had to have been supremely uncomfortable for his neck, with his feet up on Ruggie’s bed. His ears were back and his arms crossed over his chest, all classic Leona, and as long as he was there a part of Ruggie was constantly anticipating the hammer to fall. Wished he would just get it over with and stop drawing out the torture of the thing.
He’d already resorted to messaging Jack requests to make Leona leave, and the kid’s one word rejections had been resoundingly unhelpful. Meant Leona’s bad mood was catching.
Didn’t help that Ruggie’s head still ached, his shoulder still throbbed, his stomach had that sour feeling to it. None as bad as they had been the day before, but still a constant presence, frustratingly persistent.
At least the school infirmary didn’t cost anything. If it had, Ruggie might’ve already poked at Leona enough that the lion finally followed through on his threats and killed him for real, since he figured a murder under their watch was a great way to get a hospital to forgive the medical debts. Surefire way to make sure Gram wasn’t saddled with anything, at least by Ruggie’s estimation.
Still couldn’t leave though. Only the steady stream of visitors over the course of that morning had been a distraction.
Epel’d been one of the first, accompanied by the gaggle of first years that he and Jack had started to pal around with. Kid had apparently had a front row seat to Ruggie vomiting blood while unconscious, which was information Ruggie probably could’ve gone without knowing. Epel seemed to have recovered completely from the experience, more interested in knowing the details of what he’d been poisoned with (and here Epel was claiming he didn’t belong in Pomefiore.) Ruggie’d even had Deuce Spade tell him in an overly sincere and seemingly genuine manner that he hoped Ruggie recovered quickly, like he was some long time friend rather than really just nothing more than Jack and Epel’s senpai.
The whole gang had hung around for a bit before Ace Trappola got into a shouting match with Grim, and they’d all been summarily kicked out. Jack had spent most of that time with his head in his hands, face a deep red that had spread all the way up to the inside shell of his ears.
Keeli, the Savanaclaw third year that had apparently thrown the disc that knocked Ruggie off his broom, had been one of the later visitors. He spent the whole time so close to tears over it that Ruggie eventually offered his forgiveness with no strings attached, mostly to get him to quit with the shaky apologies that just made Ruggie uncomfortable.
Kalim, also nearly in tears and accompanied by a Jamil that was decidedly indifferent, stopped by to drop off a sort of easy-to-consume broth of some kind. Apparently had been a go-to when Kalim was recovering from his own numerous poisonings, which was a story Ruggie needed to get more on once he was allowed to leave the infirmary. And, once the nurses approved it for Ruggie to drink, it was actually pretty good, which probably meant it was a Jamil creation, rather than anything Kalim made.
And a handful of others, Spelldrive club and Savanaclaw team and other sophomores. Ruggie wasn’t sure why they bothered, but he wasn’t going to turn down the get-well gifts that sometimes accompanied the visitors. He wasn’t stupid.
And with each person, if Ruggie glanced over at Leona, the lion beastman would immediately flick his ears back upon noticing Ruggie’s look.
Typical.
Lunchtime now, and Ruggie was finally getting a breather. Would’ve been a better breather if Jack had actually gotten Leona to leave alongside the rest of them heading to lunch.
At least Ruggie’d stopped gagging when drinking the stupid stomach-healing potion. Leona had cracked an eyelid open, like he was waiting for it, when the nurse on duty had given it to Ruggie. Still didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes again once Ruggie handed the cup back to the nurse.
And when the nurse passed him his food, left him be to eat it, it was to a room of silence.
Ruggie couldn’t stand it. Not when his stomach still felt shades of nauseous, not when his brain still ached just behind his eyes, not with Leona still here, not when he knew Leona was going to cut him loose.
“What, you’re not gonna eat now?” he said, finally, eyeing where Leona was still half-lying down in the chair.
“Shut it,” Leona said, not even opening his eyes.
“Why should I?” Ruggie growled back, lip lifting. “Not like you’re sleepin’ either.”
That got Leona’s attention. Should’ve, considering Ruggie was usually better at watching his tone. Leona blinked his eyes open, looked at Ruggie. Said, disbelieving, “Why should you?”
Ruggie’s ears were creeping back to flat against his skull. “Leona, get it over with. If you’re gonna do it, I’m sick ‘a waitin’ for it.”
Leona blinked again. “What?”
“If you’re gonna cut me loose, better t’just do it instead of makin’ me wait.”
And Leona’s eyebrows were creeping lower, in that way that made Ruggie’s stomach churn. Still, didn’t match up with his tone when he said, low, “Ruggie, what are you even talkin’ about?”
Ruggie was getting pretty sick of people asking him that. “You’ve been pissed at me since I woke back up again, so what else could it be?”
“Ruggie. I’m not — ” And Leona cut himself off with a growl, sitting up, close enough that he was within grabbing distance of Ruggie. “Why in the stars would I be pissed at you?”
He should back down, Ruggie knew. But he couldn’t, instead just let out a high, humorless laugh. “Right, sure. Been glaring at me all day and you’re not mad? I’m not blind, dude.”
“It’s — it’s not — ” And Leona let out a wordless, frustrated noise, scraping a hand over his mouth before spitting, “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
That. Uh.
Leona was sorry?
It was like the air had gone out of Ruggie’s lungs, nasal cannula and all. His ears flicked forward without him thinking about it, just the pure surprise of it all. “You’re what?”
Leona was still growling, lip curled, fingers clenched in the fabric of his own pants. “I’m sorry for giving you the fuckin’ candies, and I’m sorry I didn’t bench you sooner — ”
“Leona, hey — ”
“— and I’m sorry for all the shit during the Spelldrive tournament too, alright? That enough to convince you?”
“Enough?”
Oh, Ruggie did not like that.
Leona wasn’t supposed to apologize. He wasn’t supposed to be looking away from Ruggie, and not with a jut to his chin like he was clenching his jaw hard, like it was the only thing stymieing the flow of words. He wasn’t supposed to have that frustrated, red look to his eyes.
Leona wasn’t supposed to apologize, but to Ruggie most of all. So Ruggie reached, grabbed him by one of the stupid braids of hair that framed his face, and pulled.
The effect was immediate, Leona’s ears flattening, his teeth baring in a snarl. Ruggie released his hair just as quick, but it was enough to get Leona closer to the bed, sitting almost on the edge of his chair as he spat, glaring at Ruggie, “I should kill you for that.”
Ruggie’s ears went back again, his head dipped at the genuine anger in Leona’ s voice, but he didn’t back down. “You’re not allowed to apologize,” he snapped back, heat bubbling in his chest.
Leona’s tail lashed, his ears still pinned, one hand rubbing at the root of the braid like it stung. “What do you mean I’m not allowed to — ”
“If you apologize, how am I supposed to keep milkin’ this?” Ruggie interrupted, voice sharp.
“What.” It was flat, frustrated, more a statement than anything else.
Ruggie bared his teeth, snapped, “I was gonna get so many specials from the cafeteria outta this, Leona. You know how long I can get you to do things any time I almost die?”
“You were — ” And then, maybe the most genuine Ruggie had ever heard Leona, “Ruggie, what’s wrong with you?”
“What, you want a list? ‘cause I think I just got my priorities straight.”
A long, drawn pause, Leona’s tail still flicking back and forth. Then, Leona huffed a sigh, dropped his head to the bed, face pressed directly into the sheets. “Forget this. I’m gonna go to sleep.”
And just like that, the heat had gone from the whole situation.
“This is my bed,” Ruggie said, indignant.
“So?” Leona’s voice was muffled by the bedding.
“You know you got a perfectly fine bed of your own back in the dorm, right?”
“I’m still stayin’ here, thanks,” Leona grumbled, eyes closed.
Ruggie sighed. Wished he could cross his arms, but the IV still sticking into him made things complicated. “If you suffocate because you’re sleepin’ face down I’m not helpin’ you.”
Leona made an annoyed grunt, but shifted so his head was pillowed in his own crossed arms. “Still goin’ to sleep,” he muttered.
“Can’t believe after all that you’re still not leavin’ me alone.”
“I can’t believe you thought I was pissed off at you of all people.”
“In my defense, I was poisoned less than forty-eight hours ago.”
Leona snorted. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no malice to it. “What happened to ‘I’m fine’?”
“I’m fine until it gets me outta the hospital. Then I’m whatever I need to be.”
“Whatever. I’m done tryin’ to figure this all out. Go to sleep or shut it.”
Ruggie laughed. “Whatever you say, boss.”
The room lapsed into silence, but not the rough, uncomfortable one from before. Just the humming sound of all the various medical machines, technomantic and otherwise, and Leona’s breathing over it.
Ruggie closed his eyes, leaned back into the pillows. Nearly missed it when Leona said, this time muffled by his own arms, “Better be prepared to work after this. Lotta shit you’re missin’ doing.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s my fault you gave me candy that literally poisoned me.”
“I’ll pay you extra.”
Ruggie’s ears perked. “No problem then, boss. And you’ll buy me somethin’ that tastes better than the plain rice they make me eat here, right?”
“Jack has donuts from your Gram he’s been hidin’ from you.”
“He has what?” Ruggie scrambled for his phone.
Jack had a pretty good guess Leona and Ruggie had come to some sort of understanding when he got a text over lunch from Ruggie asking when he’d be back, followed up with u better bring the fukin donuts.
Still, it was one thing to suspect, and another to return to the infirmary to Leona, dead asleep for the first time Jack had seen in days, most of his torso draped over Ruggie’s bed with his head resting on his own arms. And to have Ruggie, equally dead to the world, curled to the side to accommodate the extra space Leona took up, free arm crooked somewhere next to Leona’s shoulder, not touching but comfortably close.
So things were going to be okay, then.
Jack left the box of donuts on Ruggie’s get-well gift table, sent a quick text to Ruggie letting him know Jack’d be back when the nurses woke Ruggie up for dinner, made sure he actually had his book this time, and then shut the door to Ruggie’s infirmary room behind him.