Work Text:
Holy Mother, it was so goddamn hot in LA.
There was no way he could get to work without riding his bike. The buses were never on time, and being late was not an option. It wasn’t like he could dress more cooly either because he already wore practically the bare minimum, a vest over a dress shirt, coat left abandoned on the couch at home, and his home was an apartment with one AC unit in the window of his bedroom that barely worked.
They’d been experiencing an excruciating heatwave. It’d been over 100 degrees for at least four days, and there was no doubt that the entire city was miserable. People had personal handheld fans, and big sunhats, and giant water bottles that must’ve held a gallon or two. Not only did Apollo not have any of those things, it would have been difficult to hold anything with his hands on the handlebars. Also, sunhats weren’t really his style.
The heat had been making him nauseous. No matter how much water he drank, he felt terribly dehydrated. It was that kind of summer. Global warming and all that. That didn’t mean the world stopped, though. Stores, and schools, and businesses were all still open, one of those being his employer, the Gavin Law Offices. He’d just have to get over it. Discomfort was a necessary fact of life, something he knew all too well.
When he managed to arrive, he was already exhausted, and it was only a few minutes before 8 am. Dread crept up on him because he had to put in a full day of work, and if things were starting like this, they could only get worse.
The good news, though, was that after he locked up his bike and made his way inside, he would be hit with the soothing blast of cold air. The thought itself made him feel as though he could die from relief. Having a relatively wealthy boss definitely had its perks. A high electricity bill was probably no problem for Mr. Gavin.
But, when he went inside, to his horror, it was almost as hot in the office as it was outside.
“Good morning, Justice.”
Apollo swallowed thickly.
“Good morning, sir.”
He wanted to ask what was wrong with the air conditioning, but he also didn’t want to draw attention to how terrible he looked. The last thing he needed was for Gavin to poke fun at his appearance or worse—notice how his white shirt was almost entirely soaked through with perspiration.
A small smile flashed on his face, and Mr. Gavin disappeared into his office like he usually did.
Being left alone, Apollo ruminated on how disgusting he was. It felt like he’d sweat his whole body weight. It wasn’t like he had anything to change into. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Even though it wasn’t much, he’d have to make do with wiping himself down with paper towels from the bathroom.
It wasn’t helping. The slick of his skin felt like it was permanent, but he was probably just sweating as fast as he could pat himself dry. He unbuttoned his vest and shirt and placed paper towels under his armpits. Maybe that would help a little. Maybe. It just sucked that there was nothing in the office that could cool him off, so he still felt like he was dying. And, he probably smelled bad.
If nothing else, the whole thing was embarrassing. Normally, Mr. Gavin was so put together that Apollo often felt sloppy in comparison, but right then, he was so gross that he didn’t want to even come out and be in his presence. The longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry. There wasn’t much that made him feel sick to his stomach, but being put in a position where his boss could put him down and embarrass him was one of them.
Or, rather, he already felt sick, and getting so worked up about the whole thing wasn’t helping. In fact, he actually felt like he was going to throw up now. Like, really actually throw up.
Apollo stood there, and for a second, he felt like he couldn’t move. His insides were twisting in his gut, and the ever lingering nausea finally made good on its promise.
He bent over and threw up in the toilet. The water, toast, and little bit of coffee he’d wolfed down before he left for work came back up with a vengeance. It wracked his body more than usual. What had he done to deserve this?
Disgusting, he thought. He stood and wiped the lingering moisture from his forehead. At least he didn’t feel nauseous anymore, but somehow, he felt worse in a different way. The exhaustion that sat on him before pressed down on his shoulders like a weight.
There wasn’t much he could do. He had to get to work. If he dawdled too much, Mr. Gavin might think he was slacking off or something, and then he’d get yelled at, and then, he would be in bad standing with his boss, and that was never good.
Buttoning up his shirt and vest, he washed out his mouth, left the bathroom, and sat at his desk.
Being an assistant at the Gavin Law Offices wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, mostly because he got stuck doing paperwork most of the time, but for a below-average student like he’d been, he couldn’t have asked for a better gig. Kristoph Gavin was known for being extremely good at what he did—hell, everyone knew ‘the Coolest Defense in the West’—and just having him on a resume was bound to get him somewhere. That was another reason he couldn’t fuck up. He needed this job, and even more so, he needed Mr. Gavin as a reference.
The idea of being told by a potential employer that he didn’t get a job because his former boss had bad-mouthed him sounded like the most mortifying experience he could think of. He would do anything to stop that from happening.
There were a few emails that needed responding to but way less than usual. There were a few things that needed to be printed and brought to Mr. Gavin’s office later in the day. The bulk of his work was—surprise, surprise—filling out forms for the case that they were currently working on. There was nothing difficult about it. It was only monotonous.
But, when Apollo grabbed the folder and opened it, he could have sworn he was looking at the completely wrong piece of paper entirely.
It looked familiar in the way that all the formatting and design was the same as always, but it was just wrong. The words didn’t make sense to him. He wasn’t sure if they were in a different language or there had been a mistake in the word processor and everything got jumbled. Apollo rubbed at his eyes to no avail, so he placed his elbows on the desk and placed his face in his hands.
God, he felt like such shit. The air in the room was suffocating. All the windows were open, which indicated that the AC was probably broken, and Mr. Gavin was trying to make the best of an awful situation, but the air outside was just as stagnant as the air in the office, and it really felt like hell on Earth.
The good news in all of this was that he’d stopped sweating. It was a big relief. Even his clothes were beginning to dry because the heat snatched and wicked away the moisture like a cloth on a wet counter. Thankfully, he wouldn’t look as bad as he had when he arrived. It was the only bit of solace he could rationally come up with.
He took his hands away and looked back down at the papers. Not only had the words not straightened themselves out, but the page looked blurry now, too. A second time rubbing his eyes helped as much as the first time, which was absolutely no help at all. How could he do his job if he couldn’t complete one of the only responsibilities he was given?
Well, he could deliver those memos he’d printed out. Also, he could ask Mr. Gavin for a little direction regarding these stupid forms.
When Apollo stood, he felt his legs buckle underneath him, but luckily, he was still holding on to the edge of the desk so he could steady himself before falling to the ground. He shook his head once and he stood up straight, smacking his hands on his cheeks.
Funny, he thought, my skin feels clammy. It was weird because he thought he’d felt dry just a few minutes ago. Anyway, it wasn’t worth thinking about. He gathered up his stuff and made his way over to Mr. Gavin’s office door.
He knocked. There was an even “Come in,” so that’s what he did.
Apollo paused when he saw Mr. Gavin in a state of disheveled dress. His pink ribbon had been unfastened and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, which was extremely rare for him, as were his rolled-up sleeves. The typical twist over his shoulder had been replaced by a neat bun on the top of his head.
It seemed Apollo wasn’t the only one who was overheated. He didn’t mind, it was just surprising since he looked totally normal when Apollo had arrived.
“Um, I have some papers for you, sir.”
Apollo walked over and set them down.
“Thank you, Justice.”
“A-And, one more thing.” He shuffled where he stood and similarly shuffled the remaining papers in his hands. “This is…stupid, so I’m sorry for wasting your time, but could you help me fill these out? I’m having trouble understanding them.”
“Let me have a look.”
Mr. Gavin reached out and took the forms from his hand. He pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Justice,” he began, lowering his hand and giving Apollo a rather annoyed look, “I’m frankly not in the mood for any ill-humored jokes today.”
Apollo opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked off to the side and back. Finally, he found his voice.
“Sir, I’m not—I’m not joking.”
Gavin blinked. He sighed. He rubbed at his forehead which shown with sweat due to the overhead light.
“These are the same forms you fill out for every case. Why on Earth would you need special help with these ones?”
He paused again, staring blankly between the papers in Mr. Gavin’s hand and the irritated look in his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure why I’m having trouble. I thought it was weird, but I…didn’t know what else to do…”
His eyes went from vexed to calculating, scanning Apollo’s body language, his demeanor, his facial expression. It was uncomfortable to be so closely scrutinized. He felt his face heat up with a flush and his eyelids blink too fast. It dawned on him again that he felt really bad, both mentally and physically, but it wasn’t like that was anything new for him.
“Justice, I’m going to ask you to sit down.”
He shook his head, trying to get the meaning of his words to set in.
“Huh?”
He gestured to the seat in front of his desk.
“In the chair. If you would.”
“I…”
It felt like his mind had disconnected from his body. He understood what Mr. Gavin was asking of him this second time, but his body would not move or react. Instead, the warmth in his head kept getting more thick, kept getting more foggy. He slowly closed his eyes before slowly opening them again.
“Justice?”
The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“I don’t feel so good.”
This time, when his legs gave out, there was nowhere for him to go but the ground.
“Justice!”
He didn’t pass out—that probably would have been too generous—but he still couldn’t move. He had awareness but no way to interact with it. He thought dimly that it was nice that laying on the carpet felt cooler than standing in the air.
Then, there were hands on him, fingers pressed to his neck, the back of a hand on his forehead, his tie being loosened. The flurry of activity was overwhelming. His brain felt like it was moving at a snail’s pace. It was difficult to understand what was happening.
His vest and shirt were being unbuttoned again, and then, Kristoph wasn’t near him anymore. The idea of being left alone felt tiring. His eyelids felt heavy.
Suddenly, there was a small smack to his cheek.
“No, stay awake.”
He yelped when something unbelievably cold was put under both his armpits. It was shocking, especially since the rest of his skin was so overheated. Not as cold but still damp pieces of fabric were laid on his chest.
“Idiot,” Kristoph muttered to himself. Apollo wasn’t sure who he was aiming the word toward.
The final new sensation he felt was a cloth on his forehead. It had no business feeling as good as it did.
Apollo realized that Kristoph was moving away from him again. His hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
“…Mr. Gavin…” he whined softly. He couldn’t get out the thought he wanted to, so he skipped to the next one. “Am I dying?”
He looked at him and said, “No.”
Kristoph shook off his grip and stood. Apollo could hear the sound of the telephone being dialed.
“Yes, I’m afraid I may have someone suffering from heatstroke.”
His eyes closed again, getting lost in the mixed sensations of battling with what he could only assume was a fever and the chill of whatever Kristoph had put on him. He felt weak and useless. Granted, that wasn’t too abnormal, but usually, he could at least do something about it. Being so sluggish that he felt paralyzed only made him feel worse.
The light smack of his cheek happened again.
“Stay with me, Justice.”
Apollo responded with a groan.
“Did you ride your bike here this morning?”
He nodded weakly. “…Mm-hmm…”
“You do realize that it’s dangerous to perform vigorous physical activity when it’s this hot out, correct?”
“I didn’t have…another way…”
Kristoph’s sigh was between disappointed and annoyed.
“What are we going to do with you?”
There was a pause, and the silence made it difficult to follow his instructions to stay conscious. He decided to try to keep talking.
“…Thank you…for helping…”
He sounded amused.
“Was I supposed to leave you on the floor to die?”
If he’d been in any other state, he would have never said his thoughts aloud.
“…It wouldn’t be the first time…”
Kristoph made a tsk sound that was more in the realm of pity than it was of annoyance. A cool hand laid softly on his cheek.
“You are one of the most unfortunate people I’ve ever met.”
For some reason, it sounded like a compliment. Apollo couldn’t help but respond with a tired giggle. Once the tiny flicker in his chest faded, he felt weaker than he had before.
“I’m…tired…”
“I’m going to ask you once again to try to keep conscious. I don’t want to find another assistant.”
“…I don’t want to die, either.”
“It’s slightly comforting to hear you say that.”
Even though Kristoph was adamant he stay awake, Apollo felt himself slipping. However, he knew that there would be someone to help him soon. He was confident that he wouldn’t die on this floor quite yet.
If nothing else, that was comforting.
He awoke to his head between his knees, a bucket of viscous liquid on the floor lined up with his face. He vaguely noted that there was something stuck in the crook of his elbow.
Apollo could have sworn he’d passed out at some point, and yet there he was sitting on a chair and not laid out either on the floor or a cot. Another rolling wave of nausea passed over him, but something told him that there was nothing left to expel from his stomach. He whimpered against the feeling because there wasn’t much else he could do.
“Justice, lean back, would you?”
He slowly pulled himself upright. His eyes met with Mr. Gavin’s shocking blue ones. Before, he’d been out of sorts, but he was right back to looking as impeccable as he always did.
“Where am I?”
Mr. Gavin cocked an eyebrow.
“You don’t remember?”
“No…”
Something about his lopsided expression told Apollo that he’d been in and out of consciousness, which was why he was surprised he was so disoriented. But, really, should he have been?
“Lean back.”
He did. Another cold compress was pressed to his forehead.
“You’re in the ER. There were no available beds. It seems you’re not the only one who isn’t taking the heat well.”
So, it wasn’t entirely his fault. It still felt like his fault for having such an adverse reaction, though.
“Sorry.”
Mr. Gavin sat in the chair next to him.
“It’s your fault it’s 104 degrees outside, eh?”
“No, but I…could have done something. Not been so reckless. I…”
He was probably trying to conceal it, but Apollo could still hear the amusement laced in with his tone.
“As much as you might think it, you are not superhuman.”
“I don’t think that, sir.”
He peered over to see Mr. Gavin doing little to suppress a smile.
“Then, carelessness?”
“I—no, I…”
“I’m teasing, Justice.”
Something about his words had him feeling nauseous. He pressed his hand to his head so the compress wouldn’t fall off and put his head between his knees again, his breath short and shallow. It sounded pathetic, but he whined against the feeling.
“I doubt you have anything left to vomit.”
Apollo knew that, of course, but that didn’t stop the sensation. He gagged against his own will not to. It seemed his body didn’t care whether this was a useless endeavor. It was embarrassing.
“I don’t feel good.”
“Yes, I suppose not.”
It was rare that Mr. Gavin extended any expression of comfort, but it was soothing to feel a large and firm hand rub against his back. It even slid up to the nape of his neck, which was sweaty again, and that was even more surprising because he was sure his boss didn’t want his sweat on his hands. Apollo made another small sound, this one of relief rather than discomfort.
At least, he was sweating again. That meant he was getting better.
“I do wish you’d take care of yourself more.”
“It was an accident…I didn’t mean…”
“I know. It’s a general observation.”
Finally, he began to sit up even though his stomach still ached, and Mr. Gavin took his hand back. Words started to slip out of his mouth again.
“I don’t have air conditioning at home. My window unit doesn’t work very well. I live on the top floor. It's…so hot.”
Mr. Gavin made another sound of pity.
Apollo continued. “I can’t drink enough water to keep up. It’s so hot.”
“If you need something as simple as another air conditioner, you could simply ask for a bonus or two.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I do enough work to deserve that.”
“You do.”
In another odd display of affection—maybe?—Mr. Gavin reached around to his opposing cheek and pulled him over so he was resting on his shoulder. It was even more strange because not only was he getting his sweat on him but also the dampness of the compress. The small action made his chest tighten and his pulse speed up, which wasn’t the optimal state of being considering those were two things he was already having trouble with.
“I think I’m gonna…pass out again…”
“That’s alright.” His tone had softened to something that might imply he cared for him. “I’m sure they’ll have somewhere you can lay down soon. Until then, try to relax.”
His words were helping. It was hard not to give into him when he was acting so kind. This was the type of behavior he longed to receive from his boss. It made his whole body warm in a different sort of way.
“…Thank you, sir…”
The last thing he heard before his eyes shut again was a small hum.
“Of course, Justice.”