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“You’ll cremate me, right?”
Sappho gave an unamused meow as she batted at the lump buried under three sets of blankets. Despite the cocoon, Carter was still rapidly switching from too hot to too cold. The morning had passed alternatively soaking in sweat and shivering uncontrollably. It was undeniably one of the worst bouts of flu he’d had in a long, long time.
Sappho, as usual, wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. Seeing that she wouldn’t be petted, she clambered onto his back and ignored his wheeze of protest. “Glad to see you’re concerned.” He grumbled.
Hours passed, the steady tick of the clock the only sound as Carter pondered if he’d make it long enough to get something from the kitchen without fainting. His careful experiments with lifting his head were less than promising.
Sappho’s weight, along with Chester and Atticus, who had joined her on his back, certainly wasn’t helping.
Crawling down the steps was an option. It wouldn’t be the first time he gave it a try.
There was a crackle of static and a quick blast of ozone as a wavering light slowly manifested in the far corner of the room. Carter groaned and retreated back under the blankets as the light solidified. His cats hissed in unison and quickly abandoned him.
Normally, he could tolerate Nyarlathotep’s unexpected visits (apart from that one time he’d decided it’d be hilarious to materialize behind Carter and push him into the road). Seeing as most of his friends were centered solely in the Dreamlands, it was…. somewhat pleasant to have someone stop by, on occasion.
Unfortunately.
Of course, the god’s sense of timing was impeccable when it came to materializing at the least opportune moment. Like now.
“Still in bed?” His tone was mockingly scolding, as per usual. “Surely you were raised better than that. What’s the old saying? ‘Early to bed, early to rise?’”
“Don’t you have something better to do?” Carter croaked.
He dared to peek out of his fabric fortress and flinched at the sight of him looming over him, head cocked like a curious dog, somehow coming to his bedside without making a sound. “You sound awful.”
“Duly noted.” Carter groused. He turned away as he felt his stomach roll in warning. He’d put the bucket back after cleaning it out, right?
“Spent too long out in the rain, didn’t you?”
“Not quite.”
Yes, the bucket was still tucked under his bed. He pulled it out and braced himself as his throat started to clench.
He didn’t have to look at Nyarlathotep to see his expression of disgust. He could feel it pulsating off of the god. He held his position over the bucket for the last few retches before slumping onto the bed.
“Ah. That.”
“Yes.” Carter mumbled. “That.”
He hid his smirk as he could sense his unwelcomed guest fidget behind him. The thought of The Messenger, The Haunter of the Dark, the very soul of the heart of universe, cringing away from something as basic as vomit was admittedly amusing.
He lifted his head at the sound of the bucket moving. It lifted off the ground and shot out the window. The multitude of screams below painted quite the picture.
Carter shut his eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath. There was no point in yelling at an Outer God. He knew that, at least.
He opened his eyes and sighed at the wasteland of glass left on his floorboards. He looked over his shoulder, wondering if the god had at least shut the door. His cats had fled for safer ground the second he showed up, but they often slowly wandered back after the initial shock wore off. There was no point in letting them cut their paws by mistake.
He didn’t have to ask. The glass picked itself off the ground and neatly reformed in the windowpane, as if nothing had happened.
“Well, now that that nasty thing is out of here,” the god flung himself dramatically on the unoccupied stretch of mattress, “you won’t believe what I had to do to your new friend…. what was his name? The new dreamer?”
“Roger?”
“Yes, him. Apparently no one warned him about showing up unannounced.” He poked Carter’s nose and grinned. “Poor form, Randy. You really ought to be more on top of these things.”
Carter rolled himself back up in the blankets, too weary to be outraged.
There was a beat of silence before the god sighed exaggeratedly, rolling Carter onto his back. Carter protested feebly as his stomach pitched, clearly unhappy with the sudden movement. “You’re no fun at all like this.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“No you’re not” Nyarlathotep pouted.
“You got me there.”
“I suppose you’ve done nothing to care for yourself.”
“I had a bucket.”
“Oh, congratulations, big man. Got yourself a whole bucket.” He clucked his tongue as he pulled the blankets higher around Carter. Carter’s glare sadly had no effect. “Honestly, how are you still alive?”
“No idea, no thanks to you.”
“Oh hush.” His forehead was flicked mercilessly. “You have no idea how boring things got in the Dreamlands before you showed up. All Nodens this, dipshit novice dreamer that. Ugh.” He handed Carter a glass of water he’d got from…somewhere. “You certainly aren’t allowed to die. Not until I get bored of you, at least.”
“Aw, shucks. You really do care.”
The pinch was notably harder than the flick. Carter jerked away, one hand going for the Key that still hung snugly around his neck. “Hush. I’m not here to be mocked by the likes of you.”
“Then why are you so insistent on stopping by?”
“Honestly? You’re far too much fun to play with.”
Carter sipped the water suspiciously. Nothing tasted off. It seemed the god had some sense of fair play, never outright harming Carter on what could be considered his own turf. He always seemed to wait until Carter had left his house or Ilek-Vad to try whatever ploy he’d thought up. He supposed the same was expected of him, though he had no desire to challenge the god again. Last time had been far too close for comfort.
Nyarlathotep waited for him to finish. The second he lowered the glass it was tugged out of his hands by a tendril. He was pushed back onto the bed. “Your cats are more aggravating than usual. Have you fed them?”
“Not yet.”
“You monster. Why do they put up with you?”
“I-“
“Hush.” He placed a slightly-too-warm hand on Carter’s forehead. “You rest while I pick up your mess.”
Carter attempted to protest and was hit by a wall of fatigue. The world grew blurry as is eyes slid out of focus. He sank bonelessly into the mattress as consciousness was rudely yanked away from him.
***
He opened one eye slowly with a groan. The beginnings of a headache lingered between his eyes, but seemed to be fading. His glasses had been removed. One hand quickly went to his neck. The Key still rested between his collar bones. Whatever rules Nyarlathotep followed still seemed to stick.
He slowly sat up and opened his other eye. His stomach shifted ominously but decided to behave. He squinted at the black mass hanging by his wrists. His hair had been let down from its customary braid.
“Rude.” He muttered, tugging at the stupid waves it always sprang up in when freed.
(He had thought of straightening it in the past, but the memory of Harley contentedly playing with the curls while they laid together kept him at bay)
“I thought you wouldn’t mind.”
Carter jumped, staring at the blurred mess lurking by the door. He blinked, his glasses suddenly on his face. He was seized by a sudden bought of coughing, bending him over. He gingerly sat back up once the fit had passed, wincing at the pang in his stomach. Nyarlathotep was standing beside him once more, a bowl of soup on his nightstand. Carter eyed the bits of meat floating in it suspiciously. “How’re the cats?”
“Upset that I’m still here.” The god sniffed. “Ungrateful, the lot of them.”
“Well, they’re cats.” He took the bowl gingerly and tasted it. Chicken broth, presumedly.
“That’s hardly an excuse.”
Carter ate quickly, suddenly starving. His last meal couldn’t have been less than a day ago. The soup was surprisingly good. Nyarlathotep busied himself by rummaging through Carter’s things, undoubtedly pocketing some of them. Oh well. The price for safety, he supposed.
Once finished, he set the bowl on the nightstand and huddled back under the blankets as another shivering fit took hold.
A sudden thought struck Carter.
He slowly unburied himself from the extra blankets to squint suspiciously at the god, who was suddenly very interested in the clouds building up outside.
“…You could’ve healed me at any time, couldn’t you.”
“I was wondering when you were going to ask that.”
He smirked as Carter’s squint turned into a glare. “It seems your poor human brain is a bit overcooked.” He offered Carter his hand. “Do you want me to fix it?”
“Gee, I dunno. I thought I’d just throw up a few more times, see how that works for me.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” He grabbed Carter’s hand, rolling his eyes. His hand grew warm, then hot, then almost unbearable. Carter hissed in pain and tried to pull his hand away, but it was held tight. “Stop fidgeting. You’ll make it worse.”
He gritted his teeth as the burning moved up his arm, fading in and out of existence as his nerves were overloaded. Once it hit his chest, it felt as if some plug in him had been pulled; he gasped and coughed as his lungs forcefully expanded. Once the fit had passed, he could breath clearly once more. His hand was freed, and he winced as he tried to rub the pins and needles out of it.
“And what do we saaaaaay?”
“You’re an ass.”
Two fingers slid under his chin and titled his head upwards, forcing him to look the god in the eye. “The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”
Carter heaved the sigh of the long-suffering before muttering “Thanks.”
“There you go.” He smirked, patting his head. “Manners are very important, even for you.”
“Don’t you have something else to do?”
The god sighed. “Oh, I suppose so.” He sauntered over to the door, clearly pleased with the annoyance he’d caused. “Do try and keep yourself in one piece, difficult as it may be. I’ll be seeing you.”
Carter sighed as he popped out of existence. “I’m sure you will be.”