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“Stan, please lay back down?” Mitch tries to ask as politely as humanly possible, mainly to prevent himself from going over the edge of frustration.
“Make me!” His brother snaps back, though it sounds raspy and forced. It worries him.
There’s no doubt Mitch loves his brother, but it would be an understatement to say this is tiring. Normally Stan is just the right amount of stubborn, but Sick Stan…respectfully, he’s a pain in the behind to deal with. Especially since they were supposed to hit that bank today.
“You’re not okay.”
“So what if I have a little cold?” He sits up again, much to Mitch’s dismay. “First Petria National ain’t gonna rob itsel…” He sneezes, then immediately cradles his head in his hands, groaning.
“That hurt, didn't it?” Mitch leans in closer, lightly pushing him back down in the process. Thankfully, Stan doesn’t resist this time.
“Nuh uh." He shakes his head, hands still around his mouth.
“Okay…” Mitch turns to dig around in their medicine stash. A regular fever reducer pill would work in the long run, but he finds himself grabbing the liquid cough syrup instead. They haven’t used it in a solid 5ish years , but he’s pretty sure that makes it more effective? Silently, he fills up the small plastic measuring cup on the top of the cap (which is still somehow sticky).
“Now you’re trying to drug me.” Stan shies away when he notices the medicine.
Mitch brings the cup closer. “You were ‘gunna have to take something at some point.” He sighs. “Besides, you need rest.”
“Are you nuts?! If I do that, I’m gonna miss the Sonya show!” Stan crosses his arms tightly. “I’m not taking that unless we rob the bank today.”
Like he said before, a pain in the behind. “ Look. I wouldn’t do it even if we were both in the peak of health, it’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there. Which is how you got sick by the way.”
“You’re saying that as if you didn’t jump in those puddles too.”
“And I went inside when it started to get real cold.”
“Whatever.”
Sensing his convincing isn’t working well, Mitch comes up with another plan. He tilts his head “It’ll still be there when you get better…because you're my brother and I just want you to be oka–”
“Ughhh …fine. And I can do without the guilt trip, thanks.” Stan sits up to reluctantly snatch the cup from his grasp, downing it. His face immediately scrunches up, and he starts to gag. Of course, he doesn’t bother to cough into his elbow either.
“Stan. I know it’s not that bad.” Mitch deadpans.
“Easy for you, you’re not the one–” He coughs again, though this time, it’s more forced and disgusted than natural. “…drinking it.” Stan leans back, grumbling. “And stop babying me.”
“Aw but you’re my little brother.” Mitch teases
“By 3 minutes. And you call me the…” he yawns, “childish one.”
“You getting sleepy?”
“Oh shove off Mitch, I ain’t falling asleep on you.” He scoffs, but surprisingly doesn’t get up this time. “In fact, it is now my mission to stay awake just to prove you wr—“
Ten minutes later, he’s fast asleep. Sick Stan is frustrating, but Mitch always wins in the end. The TV is tuned to the GNN standby screen, illuminating most of the hideout in a bright, fuzzy glow. He gently tugs the blankets over his brother’s face so the light wouldn’t bother him.
Now, for the hard part. It should be fine, given that his Stan’s gonna be out like a light for at least a couple hours, but he’d have to be quick about it. The rain died down to almost nothing by that point. There’s a store only 30 minutes away. If he’s fast enough, he should be able to get what he needs before it starts up again.
He pulls off his mask and slips on a thick jacket, which covers most of the outfit. It’s pretty warm, so it’ll probably fight off any potential bug he might get if it starts raining again.
Mitch grins in triumph (and partly relief), patting his brother’s shoulder gently. “Get better soon, buddy…” Stan slowly swats his hand away, muttering something about money bags. He never stops, not even in his dreams. Mitch sets a water bottle next to him just in case before ducking out of their hideout.
-
-
Even though Sick Stan will have no problem eating nothing but 4 week old granola bars and a soda once he wakes up, Mitch isn’t having it. So, he braved the gap in the storm to get him some soup. The only issue was the rain started up way sooner than he thought. Dang it.
Wearing something that isn’t the costume is nice for a change, though it does make him feel a little exposed. The giant downpour that came in 5 minutes after he entered the small convenience store wasn’t helping. It didn’t let up when he was done at the store either, effectively leaving him stranded under the small outer roof of the shop.
Trudging through the storm wasn’t something he really wanted to deal with, but it’s beginning to look like there isn’t any other choice.
Just as he was considering somehow stealing a car without being seen, someone stalks up next to him. The first thing Mitch notices is that he wreaks of smoke. “It’s really going down out here.”
“Yeah…” Mitch glances up to get a better look at the guy, but there's a fedora obscuring most of his face, the only source of light being the dim ember of a cigarette.
“Guessing you got here on foot?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” The stranger slips the cigarette between his fingers. “I can give you a ride, if you'd like.”
He thinks about it. It would solve his problem. Mitch hasn’t hitchhiked in a while. It’s out of the question with the full costume on, they’re too famous for that. This summer they’ve been even more on edge, especially after they uncovered someone’s plot to kill their sweet sister in the driver’s seat of a deserted taxi cab.
“My car’s right there.” He gestures to a red tinted Golvo, it looks pretty unremarkable.
Before Mitch can even respond, the man flicks his cigarette onto the now mud caked ground. “Let’s go.” He walks to the car without another word.
Yep, there’s no doubt Stan would have what’s close to a conniption if he found out Mitch climbed into a stranger’s car without a weapon, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Besides, what are the chances this scrawny guy could even overpower him if he didn’t mean well? It’s not like he was willingly getting into a taxi or anything like that.
So he slides into the passenger seat without much issue, his only real concern is making sure none of the bag contents get wet. If the man smelled like a cigarette, the interior of the car is a whole other story. "Thanks for the lift."
The man doesn’t respond for a moment, instead looking straight ahead. “So, what brings you this far out?” He says through his teeth, the voice is oddly familiar, but he can’t really pinpoint it.
“Uh…well, I usually ride a bike, but it broke down.” He tries to evade the question, there aren't many legal things one can do out here, and Mitch doesn't look like a camper in the slightest.
“You don’t say?” The stranger asks before falling into silence once again. It’s weird, there’s something oddly familiar about his voice, but Mitch can’t really place it.
After a few more minutes of awkward silence, the man turns to Mitch once again. “Want a smoke?” He reaches into his pocket, which alerts him a little, but the man only pulls out a box of cigarettes.
“Oh, uh, thanks!” He doesn’t like to smoke often…buuuut he thinks he deserves this one, so he has no problem taking it.
“Here, let me get you a light.” The man mutters, taking a hand off the wheel to slowly dig in his pocket…while still driving. This goes on for many more silent minutes.
“You can drop me here.” He points to a phone booth glowing in the distance, he’s only been in the car for about 8 minutes, but he only really needed to get to the edge of the forest, he could find his way from there.
“Are you sure?” The man asks, showing no signs of stopping. “It’s still raining.”
“Yeah…I’ll just…wait for the bus.” He lies, because secret hideouts are called that for a reason.
He still has one hand still on the wheel, driving effortlessly through the rain before halting to a stop near the booth. Mitch tries for the door, but finds it locked. “Going somewhere important?” The man turns to him, one hand still in his pocket.
“Oh yeah" He gestures to the bag in his hand. "This is for my brother. He’s sick.” The man doesn’t respond, but there’s a noticeable pause in his rummaging. “‘Gotta make sure he’s doing okay.”
The man is silent, the only sounds that are heard is the car's engine and the roaring storm outside.
“And uh, I think you accidentally pressed the lock button.” He adds on.
“...” He reaches over. The door makes another click, then opens. “Out.” He snaps in a sterner voice than before.
“Okay…” The door actually works this time when he tries it and he exits, taking shelter under the phone booth. “Hey..” Mitch calls out to the man. “You never lit the cigarette.” He laughs a little.
“No, guess I didn’t.” The man shrugs.
“Well, that’s okay, thanks again for the r–” The car speeds off before he can finish his sentence. Strange, he just now notices the scratched out license plate. Huh, weird.
Maybe he lives off the grid like them, that would explain the strangeness of the whole thing. Yet, he still took the time to help Mitch out and even offer him a smoke. He smiles.
What a nice person.