Yeah, I Know I'm Hot [Ember]

[Samuel Rixon]

Sammy wasn’t a happy boy.

He’d just gotten off his Wednesday shift of helping the groundskeepers. Though it wasn’t unseasonably warm, he’d felt like he’d been overheating the whole time. He’d even taken off his hoodie and gloves while he’d worked. At one point, he’d almost fallen asleep on the job. He was assuming it was simply because he hadn’t slept well the night before. He’d stayed up watching Jackass, and he supposed this was his body’s way of telling him he was an idiot.

Now he was done, he was dragging himself back to his dorm. But the funny thing about that was that no matter how hard he tried, the hallway wouldn’t stay straight. He rubbed at his eyes. Seriously, he needed some sleep. Or something. And why was the hallway so hot? He normally liked heat. Much like a lizard, he craved warmth. It was the cold that his body couldn’t handle, not the other way around. He didn’t understand this.

The pyro made his way upstairs, tossing his hoodie onto his bed and cracking the window. The excess heat was making him irritable, and his stomach was in knots. A quick look in the mirror confirmed that his cheeks were flushed, but the rest of his skin was pale. A small part of him began to realize that this would probably be the point where, if he was at home, his mother would start chasing him down and harping at him to get in bed and rest. Yeah, not going to happen. He still had stuff to do.

But first things first. He pulled off his t-shirt and changed from his ratty jeans to a pair of pajama pants. He didn’t plan to do much else today. Just lounge in their common room with the television. He still had the Jackass sequel to watch, and damned if he was going to watch it in his room on his tiny DVD player.

He dragged himself from his room into the thankfully empty common room, and dropped the disc into the player before curling up on the couch. Maybe Ember would come and watch the movie with him. And pet his hair. … And not send him to bed. All he had to do was keep his little heat wave to himself. He could do that. Right?

[November Adams]

This scene seemed normal by this point - Ember was walking down the hallway, her face in a book, lacking the necessity to actually look up to see where she was going. The map off hallways and stairwells was embedded in her mind, and anyone standing in her way would politely stand to the side as to not disrupt her vigorous reading. She was trying to finish this last chapter of a book so she could write the paper for class an be finished with it a week early, like the good little overachiever she was.

Offhandedly, she recognized the sounds of idiotic television playing - masochistic assholes doing silly things on camera and getting absurd amounts of money for it. She didn't look up immediately though, and continued through the common room, on track to get to her dorm, which she suspected to be mostly empty. Moe was probably with Vinnie, and Courtney was off doing something... somewhere. Sammy might be there though. Unless he was still working on the grounds. It was a wonder that this girl could read and process this information at the same time. The television blurted out a loud scream, and the theme music played from a banjo, and the girl veered down the hallway, only to stop at her dorm and push the unlocked door open. The last page flipped, she tossed the book onto her bed, along with her bag and shoes, huffing as she sat heavily in her desk chair. A few seconds of silence went by, where she mulled over what to write in the paper, before deciding it was far too quiet in that room. "Sam?" She asked, getting up and glancing into the room next to hers. "Hm... Wonder where he's wandered off to." She scratched her head, turning out of the dorm room and back down the hallway. Her small feet padded against the ground, her fingers fiddled with the edge of her jacket as she glanced into the open doors of the students around her. Walking back into the common room, she came to a full stop as there was the sound of a loud crash from the television.

"Oh, Sammy, there you are." The brunette said with a quirk in her voice, jumping over the edge of the couch and sitting next to him. "... What the fuck are you watching?" She asked, squinting at the screen, her mouth pulling into a line as she wondered how this was entertainment. "Looks like we found a profession for Vinnie..." She muttered, only raising her eyebrows as a grown man ran from an alligator.

Glancing over toward her close friend, she cocked an eyebrow at him, and paused. His face was flushed, his skin dotted with beats of sweat, and he was practically radiating heat. Well, he already did that, but this was more so. "Uh, Sam?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. "Are you ill?" She raised her petite hand, pushing the palm against his forehead and resting it there for a moment before quite literally yelping, and tumbling away from him. "Oh dear god, you burned me! Legitimately, this is a burn!" She stared at her palm, the scalding feeling still pricking in the skin on the underside of her hand. She blinked multiple times, trying to comprehend what had just happened. "Sammy, you're going to bed. You can watch your movie later." The small time turned stood up and defiantly put her hands against her hips, eyes narrowed in her Nurse-Ember mode that everyone on that floor knew so well.

"Bed, now."

[Samuel Rixon]

At least one of the residents of dorm 202 was studious. (In all reality, only one of them wasn’t.) But right now, schoolwork was the least of Sammy’s concerns. His homework was stuffed into his backpack, crushed by textbooks and binders. He honestly hadn’t even looked at it for a few days now. He didn’t really want to, either. Not that he wanted to do it on a normal day. But even for him, his concentration was shot for now. And not just because of Jackass.

He didn’t even look up at the sound of someone else in the common room. Granted, he couldn’t really hear over the screaming and yelling on the movie. Curled up on the couch in just his pyjama pants, his eyes were starting to close. He didn’t really want to sleep, he wanted to watch the rest of the damn movie. By the time he pried his eyes open again, any trace of his friend was gone, and he was back to giggling softly to himself. Next time he and Vincent weren’t trying to kill each other, they’d have to try some of this stuff. Or at the very least, he’d have to pay him off to pull some of these stunts. He smiled to himself. Yeah. He totally had to get Vin to pull this kind of crap.

His attention wavered only once from the television, when a wave of nausea made him contemplate moving. But it passed without incident, and Sam remained planted on the couch. Either everyone was out, or they were doing their homework quietly. The pyro had figured he was alone, until he heard that oh so familiar voice. Ember! “Hi babe,” he greeted, trying to keep the tired tone out of his voice. Operation I FEEL FINE was officially a go. “’s Jackass! Well, the second one. I watched the first one last night.” Yes, dear. I’m sure Ember heard it. “Vin could totally do this. An’ he wouldn’t die!” Much as he might want the bastard to, some days.

Regardless, it was as he was watching some guy run for his life that he realized Ember was looking at him. That couldn’t be good. It wasn’t one of those “I’m horny” looked either. She looked... worried. Aw, fuck. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and shook his head. “Nuh uh. I’m not. No way.” Cue the hand of doom. Sam would have warned her, but he knew where that would end, so he just closed his eyes.

Until he heard the yelp.

His eyes snapped open and he looked across at Ember in surprise. “I’m sorry!” Not that he’d done it on purpose. He didn’t dare suggest going down to the nurse, though. If she was going, she’d probably drag him too, and he was not sick. So he wasn’t going to go. He glanced up at her as she stood, hands on her hips. “Noooooooo. No, babe. ‘m not sick! I’m just... hot... because... I’m... horny?” It was a weak excuse, and he knew it. “Or maybe I got like... too much fire and I gotta go use it. Yeah! I didn’t set any fires today!” He started to get up from the couch, ignoring the heaviness in his limbs. “I’m just gonna go outside and... yeah. Go make a fire.” He started heading for the door, pretending that his feet really were going in a straight line. Good luck in getting far. Not with Nurse Ember on the case.

[November Adams]

Of course this wasn't going to be easy. It never was, especially not with the stubborn pyro of a best friend that she had. He hated it when she went all Nurse-Ember mode on him because she made him take cough syrup last year and he... really just didn't like that. Granted, the brunette never liked cough medicine either, but she learned to take pills at an early age, so she no longer suffered from that disgusting "cherry flavoured" devil syrup. Her arms crossed over her stomach, cocking one of her hips out and raising her eyebrows at his unbelievable excuses. Horny? She'd believe that if he'd ever burned her before during sex... well, okay, he'd started a fire once or twice, but his skin hadn't gotten that hot. "Sam, if you felt this hot everyday, you'd have enough fire to burn down all of the Amazon." She said defiantly, tilting her head to the side with a quirk of her eyebrows.

She let him get up. She let him stagger toward the door, garbling out his lame excuses. She let him trip over his own two feet and flump gracelessly onto the floor, a sudden wave of nausea showing in his face as his eyes rolled and his skin flushed. "Uh-huh. And I'm not good in bed," She said sarcastically, trailing over to the pyrokenetic and poking him in the forehead with her index finger. "C'mon, we'd better try to cool you down," The petite brunette held out her hands, having to use a lot of effort to pull the dead weight off the ground and sling him back to their dormroom down the hallway. His skin was radiating heat, causing the back of her neck to prickle with sweat. "Ewww, Sammy," She groaned, pushing him into the bathroom once they walked into the cluttered suite. "Cold shower, and when I mean cold, I mean it should be nearly solid ice coming out of the showerhead." She said with a haughty tone, just daring him to defy her. She slammed the door shut and stood against it momentarily to confirm that he wasn't going to try an escape from the bathroom.

Trailing into her room, she toed a few articles of clothing away and pulled open the drawers on her desk, fishing out some Nyquil and cough medicine, tossing it on the bed for future usage. Sammy may hate it, but it'd make him get better faster, dammit. Wiping the sweat from the back of her neck, she gave it a nasty look and twitched. "Stupid boy and his stupid illness making me sweaty and disgusting," She muttered.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sammy made nothing easy. Particularly when he wasn’t feeling well. His stubborn streak reared its’ ugly head, and he became difficult about everything. It was why he didn’t like Nurse-Ember mode. She bossed him around and wouldn’t let him watch fun movies and made him take the most disgusting medicine on the damned planet. It was why he’d been trying to hide this from her. But that had lasted all of two minutes. The sulk was clear on his face as she called him out on his excuses. “... Maybe I wanna burn down the Amazon.” Yes, he purposely stored up a ton of fire, just to go and burn down the Amazon. He really doesn’t think these things through.

He thought his getaway was going well. At least until he tripped over his own two feet and wobbled for a moment, before falling onto his face. Good thing the floor was carpeted. The motion made his stomach threaten to remind him about breakfast again, which he tried desperately to keep down. He whined at the poke and let her take his hands. “I don’t wannaaaaaaa,” he moaned as she helped him get back up on his feet. He hated being cold. Hated it. And while he had the vague notion that being so warm probably wasn’t good for his body, cold was even worse for it. He leaned against her, happy for the support, and obviously not caring that he was a) shirtless, and b) sweaty. “Can’t help iiiit.” At least he was right. He nearly lost his balance as she shoved him, but he hung onto the door and sighed. “I can’t, babe. Not that cold.” He’d freeze and die. And he didn’t want to die. Not today, and not in the shower.

Still, he obeyed her as the door slammed. He pulled off his pyjama pants and started the water. Even lukewarm felt freezing to him, but if she really wanted him to cool down... he turned it to just barely cold (which felt like ice to him) and climbed in. The shivering started almost immediately, and he wanted to whine and crawl out, or turn it to hot and just stand there. But like a good boy, he was listening to Nurse Ember. He stayed in the cold water, his eyes closed, his body shivering. Had he opened them, he might have seen the steam rising from his body. He wasn’t thinking about steam, though. He was thinking warm thoughts.

And trying not to puke.

Yeah, he was having a good time. Not.

[November Adams]

The petite brunette scratched the back of her neck, pushing a few miscellaneous articles of clothing away from the path she had chosen to weave through the room. Offhandedly, she wondered how they really got this room to be so messy. It was mostly clothes, and maybe some scattered books and food wrappers, but really, if they took the time to fold their clothes, the room would probably actually pass inspection. Ember kicked a sweatshirt into the corner with a defiant huff of air, and pushed back into the room that connected the suite. She heard the sound of the shower running, and the muffled noises of music playing down the hallway, but it was mostly silent. Folding her arms over her chest, she glanced toward the bathroom and paused. Steam was billowing out from beneath the door, Ember's eyebrows shot up, "Well that's different."

Pushing the door open, a gust of warm steam swooshed into the room. Blinking rapidly, the time turner stood baffled, her hand resting on the doorhandle, staring into the smokey abyss that was the white tiled bathroom. "Uh... Sam?" She asked tentatively, carefully walking into the steamy room, roaming toward the shower and pulling the curtain back. She tilted her head to the side at the sight in front of her - the pyro look pathetic, miserably standing in the barely cold water, steam lifting off his skin where the water struck. "Sam. Our bathroom is a sauna." She stated, reaching forward to cut the water off and drag the naked, wet teenager out of the steamy room and shoving the door shut with her foot, trapping the rest of the steam inside the small space.

Leading Sammy into their bedroom, she shuffled through one of the piles of clothes - whether they were his or hers, they never knew. Their wardrobes were combined by this point. Tossing a pair of boxers and pajama pants at him, she implied it was a good idea for him to get dressed. "You sir, are going to bed now. And if your fever has gone down by the time you wake up, then you won't have to take any medicine." She said, a crooked grin on her face knowing his absolute disdain toward any form of cold medicine.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam would have taken anything over this misery. Extra homework. Detention. Hell, even another stupid one nighter with Vincent. (Okay, that had to be the fever talking.) He’d even clean up their godforsaken messy dorm, all by himself, if he could just trade this away. With a tiny smirk, the shivering pyro imagined passing this off to one Jesse Adams. Little shit deserved it. And that thought made him feel marginally better as he stood in the freezing water. He had no idea how long he was sentenced to be in here, but he hoped his time was up soon. He didn’t know how much more he could take of the cold water beating down on his body. It didn’t seem to be helping all that much. Or perhaps that was just in his head. It wasn’t doing anything to settle his rolling stomach. There were a few moments where he thought he’d have to stumble out of the shower and toss his cookies. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. Yet.

He wasn’t sure if he heard the door actually open or not, but when he heard Ember’s voice, he relaxed a little. “Mm hmm?” He couldn’t even be bothered to make proper words anymore. When she pulled the curtain back, he had to wonder if it was just his vision, or if things really were that hazy. What she said cleared up that little problem for him. “Not my fault,” he managed to mumble as she turned off the water. He didn’t care that he was still wet. He didn’t care that he was naked. Or even that Ember dragged him through the hall in that state. He just stumbled behind her, dripping warm water behind him.

While Ember hunted in the piles of clothes, Sam just stood, still looking overheated and pale. The clothing hit in him the chest, which he took a moment to register before picking them up and hobbling into the pyjama pants. He wasn’t listening all that hard to Ember, but when it all sunk he, he looked up. “That’s not fair Emby! No medicine.” It didn’t matter what it was for, cough, cold, flu, it was all nasty. He didn’t care about the end result, because he had a hard time stomaching it. What was the point if he was already threatening to throw up? He wouldn’t really argue about bedtime, but why couldn’t he sleep on the couch, in front of Jackass? “Can I sleep in the common room? I wanna finish the movie...”

[November Adams]

Though Ember would have rather liked to believe herself a pacifist, sometimes she just really wanted to smack her roommate/best-friend upside the head. She felt it might actually knock some sense into him and make him realise that he was being stupid. Especially in situations like the one they were presently in - he was ill, but didn't want to try and get better. Even metas needed time to heal... Well, unless you're Vincent. But he's special.

Giving the boy a glare, she shoved him onto the mattress. "I don't care if you don't like the medicine. It'll make you feel better, and you know it." Her voice was completely vacant of amusement, lacking her usual sarcastic glint, or any sort of cheerful tone. When he inquired if he could just sleep in the common room, she gave him a deadpan expression that simply stated, "NO" without words. That was a stupid move, Sam. "You can watch your little movie with masochistic doorknobs later. Now, you have to go to sleep." She said, her voice trying to be gentle, but obviously straining to not sound utterly exasperated with his antics. She pulled the blankets out from underneath him, tucking him in like a mother would. Ember smiled down at him, before walking out of the room and into the bathroom. She retrieved a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet and shuffled back into their cluttered room. Shuffling through things on the floor, she found her box of bottled water and grabbed one for the patient. "Here, if you get a headache or chills, take a few of these. You might just have allergies or something, so I'll go to the store later to grab some Benadryl." She said this mostly to herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she offered Sammy a bleary grin, reaching forward to run her hand through his damp hair. "Silly. You have to take care of yourself when you're sick. You know how you get when you're cold." She reminded him, knowing all to well how susceptible he was to the cold weather that came with autumn and winter, and how he get hypothermia nearly every year because of it. They have numerous heating sources in their dorm just for him so his temperature never gets below it's unnaturally high regular state. Ruffling his hair, she just grinned and pushed herself off the mattress. "Just yell for me if you need anything, 'kay?" She grabbed her backpack and made her toward the couch where she fully planned to finish her essay. Doubt that'll happen.

[Samuel Rixon]

Ember wouldn’t be the first person to smack Sammy for his stupidity. She probably wouldn’t be the last, either. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to heal, it was that he was being stubborn and refusing to admit he was ill in the first place. That, and he still wanted to watch his movie. Was that such a terrible thing? Apparently so.

He wobbled for a moment, then lost his balance and flopped backwards onto the bed. Ember wasn’t fun like this. She was bossy and mean and... yeah, Sam curled up on the bed. “I hate it. It makes me puke.” No, Sam, it really doesn’t. The virus or bug you picked up makes you puke. Stop making excuses. The death glare actually had him quiet, for about ten seconds. When Ember was in no-nonsense nurse mode, things just stopped being fun. “Okay,” he managed to say in a meek voice. He tried to cooperate as she pulled the blanket out and tucked him in. It had been a long time since anyone had done that for him. Buried in the blankets, Sam was regaining the heat he’d lost in the shower quickly, which made him happy. He was only half listening to what Ember was saying, though somehow it translated to, “Yeeah... ‘m allergic to chills.” Brilliant, Sam. This is why you’re in bed.

He smiled at the touch to his hair. He wanted to snuggle against Ember, but that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. He didn’t want to burn her again. “I knooow. It just sucks.” Look on the bright side, Sammy. No class if you’re legitimately sick. Of course, Sam was the boy who cried wolf. He liked to fake injuries in gym class, and fake illness for the rest of his classes. It would figure that the one time he was actually sick, his teachers probably wouldn’t believe him. He sighed and nuzzled into his pillow. He was tired, he could admit it, and just made a small noise of agreement when Ember told him to yell.

For a little while, he behaved. He stayed in bed, snuggled against his pillow. He kept his eyes closed. He did everything he could think of to make himself go to sleep. But nothing was working. He rolled around, trying to get comfortable. But between the comfortable warmth, and the fact that his stomach still couldn’t tell him if he was actually going to puke or not, he wasn’t sleeping. So, he got up, blankets wrapped around himself, and trailed from his bedroom to the common room. He probably resembled Horus when he did this, but he didn’t really care. He came back out to the couch and flopped down beside Ember. “Baaaaaaabe. I can’t sleep.” Sam, did anyone ever tell you that whining really isn’t very becoming?