Chapter Text
"JJ? Is that you?"
This is just what Heyward needed today, sympathy for the Maybank kid. He was already standing outside Kildare High out of fatherly love for his son. He really was going soft in his old age. He had deliveries to be unloading. A shop shelf to stock. Contraband being delivered to the docks by Donny. Yet here he was, hands stuffed in pockets, looking down at one of his son’s hoodlum friends. Well least he suspected it was one of Pope's trouble making shadows. It was hard to tell given the kid was hunched over a garbage bag.
"Depends on whose asking. You got a warrant?" Definitely JJ then. Heyward grunted in response. Kid had always had a sick sense of humour.
"J, what on God's green earth are you doing sitting out here? Your supposed to be inside the building."
Pope had dragged JJ into Heyward’s life nearly a decade ago and he had been nothing but a pain since. Getting his son in all kinds of trouble. He could remember the day clear as anything when Pope had come out home from fourth grade grin plastered on his face, bouncing up and down that he'd made friends today. Heyward looked back on that day some nights when sleep wouldn’t find him. Heyward had only felt relief at that moment in time. His son after all had always been a little odd and sometimes more than a little. He did have the constant fear that his kid would be sat eating his lunch alone in the toilets in high school. Being on the middle school maths team did not help his image. Kildare could be an unforgiving island.
When he had asked Pope who these friends where he was damn near smiling as bright as Pope. Then Pope had uttered the word ' John B' and his smile fell a little. Crazy Big John's son. Okay. Not great but he could deal with that. Big John might be a little insane, but the man had a good head on his shoulders. Pope and the Routledge kid, hell the kid could have at least got half his daddy’s brain. They could do their maths work together. Then Pope continued speaking. Sometimes Heyward wanted to go back in time and clamp a hand over the kids’ mouth and say pick different friends. He had not though, and Pope uttered the word 'JJ'. He didn’t need to the surname. He dropped Pope off at school enough to know the JJ kid. The whole island knew who his daddy was.
This was Gods curse on him. Gave him a smart hard-working son with terrible judgement in people. His son best friends with a Maybank. Luke Maybank's son, nonetheless. He thought about cutting the friendship right then and there as Pope beamed up at him. It crossed his mind to ask his son how on earth he had made friends with them. Turned out that some kids were bothering Pope, picking on him. Heyward’s blood pressure spiked. He knew his kid weren't popular, but he would never bother anyone. Apparently, the Routledge kid took offence to what they were calling Pope and defended him. They started on the Routledge kid after that. The issue was settled when the Maybank kid apparently 'beat their asses'. Well, how could Heyward break up that friendship yet.
"JJ, I am talking to you. You little shit. Why you sat outside?" Heyward repeated himself and nudged JJ's boot with his foot.
"Heyward, what are you doing outside the school?" was all JJ responded with yet to look up from the inside on the garbage bag. Heyward noticed the old, stained backpack abandon next to him on the steps.
"Pope was freaking out because he left his gym kit and didn't want a detention. So, I brought it in for him." Heyward got a sinking feeling no one ever brought JJ's gym kit in when he forgot it. Probably, didn't have one. This uncomfortable feeling settled in Heyward’s stomach. Possibly it was guilt or sympathy. Then he remembered how last week JJ had dropped Pope home at past one in the morning and woke him by singing in his living room. Guilt disappeared quick remembering that early morning start.
"Going to answer my question yet?" Heyward asked. He stopped himself tagging on the end whether JJ had been suspended or caught drinking given the garbage bag.
"I'm sick. They sent me home." JJ looked up and flashed Heyward that smirk of his. Heyward noticed the sheen of sweat on the kids face despite the mild day. He looked pasty as well. Fuck, the kid actually was sick.
"This ain't your home. Why you sat here still?" Heyward pressed on.
"Dads on a business trip so he can't pick me up. I don't fancy the walk home right now I'll be honest. So, I am waiting for John B to get out for a ride."
Jesus.
"Your daddy ain't on no business trip." Heyward was not sure why he voiced that thought aloud so quickly.
JJ scoffed. "Yeah, well not the type I could tell Mrs Jennings about. Its whatever. He ain't coming to pick me up."
Heyward rolled his eyes. Luke always was a piece of shit.
"What kind of sick are you?"
"The type where I've been throwing up since registration."
"What and that school just going to let you sit out here for the next four hours?"
"I think their glad to see the back of me. I’m not exactly a model student, Heyward."
"Yeah, bet."
The awkward silence was broken up when JJ groaned and slung an arm around his stomach. The other hand he used to bring the garbage bag closer to his face again. Heyward looked across the school car park as he heard JJ's stomach rebel. Feeling awkward and slightly queasy. Grown man or not, somethings just are gross. He winced when JJ's stomach didn't let up after a few minutes.
Maybank kid or not, Heyward could not believe the school just left the little shit sitting on the side of the pavement. The school entrance was meters away. The staff must be able to see him out the windows. Heyward knew he was far from a model student but surely some flag had to be raised that the kid’s dad had fucked off for a few days while he was sick. Then surely a giant red flag should have been flown that the kid planned to spend the next four hours sat on the ground throwing up alone.
"Really are sick ain't ya." Heyward mumbled more to himself watching JJ wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, sweat was glistening on the boy despite the chill in the air.
JJ didn't say anything just cast a slightly embarrassed look up the older man. Heyward rocked back on his heels, heart, and head heavy suddenly. He was well within his rights to just turn around head back to his truck, re-open the store and try and make up the loss earnings. By the evening he might have managed to shake the image of JJ sitting out here by himself. Fuck, maybe he should re-call the time JJ had dented his truck with that soccer ball. Or when him and John B had syphoned petrol from his boat for the HMS Pogue claiming it was a national emergency.
The kid was throwing up again snapping Heyward from his frustrations. It was his paternal instincts that had him creaking his old knees to ease down on the curb besides JJ. For a second, he forgot that the kid next to him was effectively his arch enemy for the last decade. Instead, he was just sick kid sat out alone. He claimed a big hand against the back of JJ's sweatshirt feeling the heat beneath the boy skin and rubbed gently circles. He whispered, well as close to whispering Heyward could manage, that it would pass soon. If Heyward closed his eyes, he could pretend that it was just like with Pope when he was younger and not a kid that usually stank of weed and beer.
"Fuck me, man." Yeah, this kid was not like Pope. Heyward bit his tongue from telling the kid to mind his language. Instead, he just moved his hand up and squeezed the back of his neck.
"Come on, J. I'll drive you home you can't sit out here all afternoon; you need to rest." JJ shoulders seemed to slump as he took in Heyward's words.
"You sure?" JJ's voice was horse now, throat torn up from throwing up his guts again.
"Don't fight me on it because I got plenty of better things to do. You going to make it to my truck, or do I need to bring it closer?" Heyward removed his hand and started digging in his pockets for his keys.
"How far is it?" JJ sounded like he was sleep walking mumbling as his skin somehow turned even paler. Now that had Heyward worried. He thought the kid might have even made a start to run away at the suggestion of him taking him and now he was suggesting he couldn't make it to the truck.
"About two rows over." Heyward tried not to sound concerned. JJ nodded and shifted his weight forward. Sick bag discarded to the side. Heyward should have put it in the bin for him and the school. But fuck them for leaving the little shit outside by himself. He was doing his darndest not to storm back into the office and give them a piece of his mind. It would do little to anything. What JJ needed right now was to sleep and get some water in him, not be still sitting outside while Heyward shouted at a receptionist.
"Easy." Heyward was again snapped out of his rambles when JJ pulled himself into standing groaning as he did. The change in elevation did little for the kid’s complexation. It looked like he might just pitch forward and throw up on Heyward's shoes. Heyward watched as he nervously swallowed and wiped a hand across his face.
"Jesus, J. Let me take a look at you." Standing opposite him face no longer obscured by a garbage bag, Heyward wanted to check him over. He reached out a hand and did not miss JJ's flinch. God damn, Luke. He didn't hesitate though taking JJ's neck in his hand using his thumb to turn JJ’s face up towards him. Then ran that hand up across his forehead. Feverish. Pale. It crossed Heyward’s mind that a trip to urgent care might be on the table. That might over stretch his boundaries.
"When's last time you drank some water?" Heyward asked hand back on JJ's neck so he couldn't look away.
"Morning." JJ mumbled.
"Keep it down?" Heyward pressed on moving to check the side of JJ's face in case it were hiding a rash or something more serious.
"No." JJ's tone gave the impression he was nearing the end of his patience with Heyward’s inspection.
"There's a bottle in the truck. Fluids and rest." Heyward released his face and used his hand to steer JJ towards the truck.
"Didn't think Mrs Heyward would have a doctor kink. You think you know somebody." JJ smirked over at Heyward as they made their way to the truck. Kid didn't need the urgent care then if still had the energy to try and wind Heyward up.
"Surprised John B didn't just ditch school to drive you home." Heyward decided to ignore the taunting.
"Don't have any data left to tell him to. Besides he can't really afford any more truanting marks." JJ explained. They were making slow progress towards the truck given that JJ was walking like his legs were made of lead. Heyward out of the corner of his eye didn't miss him snaking a handout to catch himself on a couple of cars when he wobbled.
Heyward moved ahead of him though. His and JJ's patience with affection towards each other already at its limits. Neither were exactly the kiss and cuddling type. Not that hadn't got along with each other. As big of pain as JJ was Heyward could least admit the kid was fucking funny. Sometimes they even had things in common especially the joint teasing of Pope when the Pogue’s would invade family dinners.
Heyward nearly had a smile on his face as he unlocked the truck door remembering JJ's story about Pope and the volleyball lesson. The smile didn't materlise cause Heyward could hear him being sick again but couldn't see him. Was the kid trying to make a run for it?
Heyward turned and retraced his steps; he didn't have to go far. JJ was behind the row cars parked behind the truck. On his knees a hand stretch against a red sedans license plate to keep himself from face planting. The deluge seemed to have stopped and JJ lent back on his heels panting face flushed with only the red spots of exertion, embarrassment, or fever or maybe all three. His hair was plastered to his forehead now and his blue eyes seemed impossibly big. Kid sure was playing on Heyward’s heart strings.
He could just hang back by the truck pretend he hadn't seen. Probably what JJ would want him to do. It was certainly what Heyward wanted to do. JJ was always too on edge to have not noticed his heavy footsteps towards the sedan though.
"Thought you'd tried to ditch me." Heyward realised he sounded a little juvenile. He eased between the parked cars and stood beside JJ's listing form against the trunk. He'd yet to make it back to his feet. JJ didn't say anything just half smiled up Heyward and shook his head slightly. The lack of comment back was received as an invitation to help. Heyward eased his hands under JJ's armpit as if he were a child asking to be picked up.
"Come on, J. Quicker you're home better you'll feel." Heyward didn't get any resistance as he pulled JJ to his feet. He stumbled with when JJ seemed to refuse to hold his on weight up and had to rest him against the car for a second.
"Easy now, I've got you. Truck's just there." Heyward hefted one of JJ's arms over his shoulders as he moaned. It was scaring Heyward more than he wanted to admit. Not that JJ was sick, he dealt plenty with sick kids and people. But that he cared so much. Here he was despite an ache in his knee lugging JJ through a parking lot. He should back at the store by now serving customers coming in during their lunch breaks.
Yet here he was helping ease JJ into the front the truck, talking to him softly like he was his own son. It hit him that no matter how many times he might fight Pope on his friendship choices now, last week and in the future. No matter how many times he begged him to make better friends’ part of him would always care too deeply about the little toe rags he'd hung around with in the fourth grade to ever really accept any new friends.
That’s why he encouraged him to make different friends so often. It wasn't just because he’d chosen two kids off the fast-track scheme towards Wadesboro and a life lived on the cut forever. But because it forced him to care about them too. Heyward could do without more people to worry about in his life. See maybe that just was the issue. He wanted a better life for Pope away from this island life. By extension he wanted better for Pope's friends. If Pope could have just made friends with some smart middle-class kids, it would have said him a hell of lot of worrying.
"Drink." JJ took the bottle from Heyward who had even unscrewed the cap for him. Heyward didn’t move from besides the truck door till he'd made sure JJ had at least taken a sip.
"Throw up in this. I ain't wasting time pulling over. Need to get the store open. Any gets in the truck you'll be cleaning it all this weekend." It was an empty threat as Heyward passed him an old crabbing bucket from the cab. JJ would either still be sleeping this off or would avoid Heyward's all weekend on purpose. God damn, Maybank.
The drive through the cut to the Maybank residence went surprisingly well. Heyward could see JJ struggling with his nausea still and was sweating buckets. But he managed not to throw inside the interior of the truck. Most of the trip he had his eyes screwed shut and a death grip on the old crab bucket.
The ground beneath the old truck changed from tarmac to gravel as they approached the run-down shake JJ called home. Heyward had only been here three times. Twice to deliver something Luke had ordered and another to pick up Pope. Pope had been planning on staying over at JJ’s, but Heyward put an end to that. A step across the line that was. The Routledge place sure, even if Big John would be absent. JJ's house? Nope and never.
The truck spluttered as Heyward pulled up the hand break. Two old cars sat parked on the front hood open. Other pieces of machinery littered the yard. Place was run down to say the least. JJ rolled his head across the head rest to look at his home then back across to Heyward. Something flashed in his eyes that wasn't relief.
"Your daddy really not home or just tell the school that?" Heyward unclipped his belt. If Luke was home Heyward wanted to knock on the door himself. Parental instincts taking over.
"His fishing with my uncle for Guffy." JJ wasn't lying. Heyward could piece together bits from the docks that the Maybank clan were taking a boat out on the water.
"He knows you were sick before he went?" Heyward was tense.
"I didn't know I was sick till this morning." JJ was getting cagey, and Heyward knew when to let off. It wasn’t his business what went on. Not at all his problem.
"Thanks for the ride, Heyward. Appreciate it." Heyward had stepped over a line and JJ was shrinking away from him putting an end to the conversation. JJ moved to the truck door. Heyward wanted to stop him. He wasn't sure if it was cause fifteen minutes ago, he had to practically carry the kid to the car. Or the sight of seeing his house but he just couldn't.
"Whose watching you while his away?" Heyward pressed on; JJ's attitude be damned.
"Me. I ain't no kid, Heyward." Heyward scoffed at that one. JJ was both right and wrong.
"Yeah, I know you can look after yourself." Heyward sighed "you need someone with you in case you get worse. You've got a bad fever. If you can't keep water down, you need to go the urgent care."
"John B will get out in a few hours he'll come over." JJ didn't even have to think before he answered. Heyward glanced at the clock inside the truck. Be four hours till John B made it to JJ's. Nah Heyward couldn't have that.
"No one else around? You've got family all over this island."
"Jesus, Heyward. I feel like shit I just want to go lie down, man." JJ shifted to face him now. Heyward bite his tongue to reprimand him for his tone. Heyward was an adult though; he knew exactly what JJ was doing. He was going to take more than a bit of attitude to push him off. His son could have a short fuse at times.
"You ain't staying by yourself in this state." Heyward watched for JJ's reaction, but he was impossible to read.
"I'll go to my cousin Angela's. She's a couple of streets over." JJ moved to the door handle again.
"Bullshit."
"Heyward, what we doing here man? Cause I'm trying my damest not to throw up in your truck right now. I wanna go sleep in my bed and you need to open the store. Just unlock the door and go to work."
What was Heyward doing? Why wasn't he just letting JJ get out the truck. He had done his good deed already driving the kid home. It was more than anyone else had done. Yet, part of him knew he was never just leaving JJ out his house. It was easy for him to say that it was cause his wife would be on his ear for leaving JJ alone. But it was because he cared. Despite, trying his hardest not to. He fucking cared. Cared too much to leave him alone throwing up in some shit hole waiting for his other orphan friend to turn up.
"You can stay at ours and then I'll drop you off at the Chateau later." Heyward didn't really wait for a response putting the truck in reverse. Was this technically kidnapping? Maybe.
"Heyward, you don't have to. I'll be fine." JJ sat back in his seat face pale for being in motion gain.
"Your right I don't have to. But I am. You'll probably be fine, but we don't know that. I ain't going to be nursing you back to health but I am going to make sure you sure don't die choking on your own vomit alone in that place." Heyward didn't know why he was so angry suddenly gesturing wildly as he pulled back onto the road. He knew he shouldn't raise his voice.
"If this just your way to get me to do deliveries for free I'll report you for kidnapping." JJ grumbled eyes shut again. Heyward took that as a sign to end their fight.
"Your cam belts breaking I can hear it when you're changing gears." Heyward was regretting it already when he heard JJ croak out that sentence after a few minutes of silence.
"Truck's perfectly fine. It turns on and its moves."
"Can't hear that ticking sound old man?" JJ joked. He was squirming in his seat. Arguing with Heyward about the truck was an obvious attempt to distract from the rising nausea.
"There ain't no damn ticking sound. What would you know anyway?" Something about JJ always put him on the defensive. Even if he would secretly admit there was a ticking sound. He really couldn't afford to replace the timing belt right now especially now after shutting the store all day.
"I know my way around an engine, my dad’s good for something." JJ voice was tinged with humour at his own joke. "You really should fix it now. If it breaks your whole engine will be fucked. This old piece of shit it wouldn't be worth fixing."
"For a start don't insult my car you little bastard and don't start lecturing me on what I shou-" Heyward rampage was cut off by the sound of JJ throwing up again. To his credit JJ did keep it all inside the bucket.
The short drive to Heyward's was silent after that. The last bout of throwing up seemed to take the last of JJ's energy and he just slumped against the side of the truck looking like death. Should have just left him, Heyward grumbled turning the engine off, the prospect of half carrying JJ into living room wasn't appealing. His son’s friend wasn't exactly conventiely sized. JJ didn't move when the engine switched off and no more comments about the ticking noise. Hell, he might have even passed out.
Heyward didn't bother trying to shake him or call his name and just made his way round to the passenger side. He eased the door open slowly as a precaution had to use his hand to keep JJ from falling out. That didn't even jolt a usually skittish JJ awake. He sort of forced his eyes open blinking as if they were really heavy and gave Heyward a kind of loopy looking smile.
"Let me take this first. Don't move, JJ. You’re more likely to fall on your ass than make it inside." No response. Heyward took the sick bucket years of hard graft at various jobs made him numb to the grossness. He turned on the outside hose and clean it out down the drain outside his house.
He returned to the truck praying JJ had listened to him. He hadn't of course. He would have been better telling JJ to get out since he seemed intent on not listening not him. JJ had manged to get out the cab of the truck himself and was still standing on two feet. Swaying but standing. Probably out of sheer spite of not following instructions rather than his own body.
Heyward didn't bother brining up his complete disregard for his instructions and just kind of grabbed JJ and herded him inside the store and out the back to the Heyward's living room. JJ just let himself be guided inside and the relief on his face when Heyward finally let him down on the old sofa was almost comically. JJ wasted no time. He flicked off his boots and just pitched himself to the side. Laying his head on one of Mrs H's purple cushions on the arm rest of the chair.
Heyward mumbled, 'just make yourself at home I guess'. He picked up JJ's boots and put them by the side entrance welcome mat. This was as far as he had got in his madness decision to bring JJ home. The kid was here now half asleep on his worn-out sofa still looking life crap but not on the curb side or in a drug den. Jesus, life on the island.
Heyward was standing in the middle of his homely living room decorated in family pictures and random crap his wife collected over the years feeling a little like an idiot. His phone was weighing down his pocket. Should he text his wife and ask her what you do with a sick kid? It always usually was her remit but she was at work, and he didn’t want her to know how inept he really was. He was a grown adult he didn't need to call anyone else. He knew what to do.
"I'm going to be sick." JJ pulled himself up suddenly looking ashen.
Shit. It was the fastest Heyward had moved in years as he grabbed the laundry basket off the coffee table and shoved on JJ's lap. There wasn't anything left for JJ to throw up now besides bile. Heyward cringed at the sight of him hunched over spitting into the empty laundry basket.
"You've got to stop throwing up soon." Heyward took the basket when it seemed too pass and JJ collapsed back against the sofa.
"You'd think." JJ grumbled.
JJ was still lying prone possibly asleep by the time Heyward returned to his side. He was prepared this time. Laundry basket was stuffed with a garbage bag and various other things.
"J. You need to drink." Heyward settled down on the edge of the armchair near JJ's head, stretching out a bottle of water.
"Don't want it."
"Didn't ask that." JJ moaned but pulled himself up. He eyed the water bottle in Heyward's hands like it was poison. Begrudgingly, he took a couple of sips.
"See. Life's easier when you listen." Heyward felt smug as he took the bottle back. "You still hot?"
"Woah. I'm not getting Stockholm syndrome any time soon."
Heyward realised quickly asking was futile and just reached for JJ's forehead. Burning hot. JJ couldn't even do sick by half’s.
"Sweatshirt off you’re burning up." To his surprise JJ didn't really argue and even allowed Heyward to help when getting his sweatshirt off seemed an impossible task.
"Put this on your head."
"What?" JJ cracked his eyes open at that and peered up at what Heyward was hovering over him.
"Is that a fucking flannel?"
"Watch your mouth in my house." Heyward's voice wasn't stern. It was closer to laughter at JJ's dismay "yeah it is and its cold. It will feel nice trust me."
JJ rolled his eyes but did as Heyward instructed. They sat in an easy silence after that. JJ seemed to finally have officially fallen asleep and hopefully the vomiting had passed. Heyward lent back in the armchair and switched the television on low.
"Pope's lucky you know." JJ voice was soft, and Heyward lent forward to check on him. He wasn’t even sure he was fully awake as he spoke. Heyward said nothing and hoped he would just drift off again. "I mean, whenever I've been sick before my dad’s never taken care of me like this." Heyward was never one to be quick anger, believe it not. Yeah, he got mad, but he could count the fights he got into on one hand. But if Luke Maybank walked through his door in that moment, he wasn't sure what he would have done to that man.
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Part of Heyward was in denial that that day happened. When he'd willing given a whole days turn over to play nurse maid to the Maybank kid. He was convinced that he to must of had some kind of fever that day. Nothing had been said between the two of them in the days since even when JJ would lurk in their store waiting for Pope. Heyward wasn't entirely sure there was anything to say.
It was only when he started his truck up for the first time in a few days and he listened as he changed gear. No ticking sounds. God dammit, he was never going to get rid of that little bastard in his life, was he?