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"Hey, you okay?" Chet slowed as he passed by the table in the day room, eyebrows climbing as Roy dragged his shoulder against the back of the chair like he was trying to sandpaper his own back.
Roy sighed and shifted, then hunched over his coffee with his jaw tight. That lasted all of two seconds before he reached back, fingers scrabbling between his shoulder blades, face twisting when he couldn't quite reach.
"Yeah," he grunted out. "I'm fine."
From the other end of the table, Johnny rocked back on two legs of his chair as he smirked and popped peanuts in his mouth.
"Doesn't look fine," Chet said, plopping into the chair across from Roy. "You look like a bear trying to scratch up against a tree… except you don't have a tree."
Johnny giggled and tossed a few more peanuts in his mouth.
Roy managed one more half-hearted scratch before giving up with a frustrated huff. "I'm fine. I just feel like crap, okay? The mosquitoes have been biting like crazy, my head's pounding, and—" He broke off with a sigh, dragging a hand over his face. "And Joanne called earlier. They got to her mom's place just fine, but as soon as they got in, the kids started getting sick. So her trip just got a whole lot less relaxing."
The room got a little quieter. Roy didn't usually whine. If something was wrong, he tended to sit back, frown at the universe, and just… take it. Or let Johnny whine on his behalf.
Chet gave a low whistle, "Man, tough break."
"Yeah, well…" Roy shifted again, shoulder tightening like the seams of his shirt were as scratchy as barbed wire. "Mosquitos don't care."
"Headache, huh?" Johnny's voice went thoughtful. "Anything else?"
"Huh? No. Just tired. Achy. Getting old." Roy took a sip of coffee, then made a face and set the mug back down. "And if I could rip the skin off my back and trade it in, I would."
That was suspicious enough for Johnny to rock his chair back down to four feet and drop the rest of his nuts back into the snack bowl in front of him. He stood up and wiped his salty hands on his pants.
"May I?" he asked, nodding toward Roy.
"May you what?" Roy asked with narrowed eyes.
"C'mon, let me just check out. A little paramedic exam… courtesy of moi."
Roy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Like I could stop you."
"True," Johnny pointed cheerfully as he came around the table. "But it's nice to pretend sometimes."
Roy pushed his chair away from the table and turned to the side so Johnny could properly see him. Johnny started with a quick once-over. Roy's color looked a little off, a faint flushed patch over his cheekbones and the back of his neck that didn't look like sunburn. His eyes had that faint squint that said his headache wasn't exactly mild.
Johnny took Roy's wrist and wrapped two fingers around it, counting as he looked at his watch. Not racing, but a little fast for just sitting at a table. He brushed the back of his hand across Roy's forehead, following as Roy tried to pull away, and landing on his cheek.
"Little warm," Johnny murmured.
"You're a little cold," Roy argued back automatically.
Johnny ignored that and caught Roy's arm, lifting it and looking at the underside of his arm.
Small red spots dotted the skin. Johnny pursed his lips. Some were flat and pink, some were raised, and one had a tiny little blister.
"How long have you had these… mosquito bites?" Johnny asked.
Roy frowned at his arm like he was seeing the spots for the first time. "I guess last night? Well, there's more than I remember…"
"Ummhmm…." Johnny hummed. He popped the top button of Roy's shirt and gently eased the collar back. More spots trailed over Roy's collarbone and vanished down below his white undershirt.
Mike, sitting at one corner of the table, leaned back warily. "Those don't look like mosquito bites."
Johnny shook his head slightly. "No, they don't."
Cap was standing in the kitchen area with a mug of coffee. He leaned against the counter and frowned. "DeSoto, how long've you been feeling off?"
"A day or two," Roy admitted. "Headache. Felt a little feverish yesterday. Took some aspirin. Figured I was just worn out."
"Uh huh." Johnny dragged the nearest empty chair around and sat directly across from Roy, knees almost touching. He leaned in, elbows on his thighs, fingers steepled as he stared at Roy like a puzzle.
Roy stared back at him with annoyance and exhaustion.
Then Johnny took a breath and looked around at the others.
"Okay, survey time," he said. "Show of hands—who here has had the chicken pox?"
Cap's hand went up. Mike's, Marco's Chet's—all without hesitation. Johnny exhaled, relieved, and raised his own hand. Then he turned back to Roy, whose hands were still down at his sides.
"Hey, Pally," Johnny said softly, a sympathetic smile forming on his face. "Raise your hand."