#a shift

[thefourthfixed]

Making the perfect playlist of music I think Michael likes

[augustatheghost]

@ dw

[katb357]

Sicktember 22: Flu

H. Stanley/M. Stoker/A Shift/Emergency!

Johnny just knew he shouldn’t have come into work that day. Three different calls just that morning to deal with patients who most likely had the flu. The first was a four-year-old kid who sneezed right in his face… twice. And now he was starting to feel crummy. His throat was scratchy, his head was pounding, and his stomach was queasy. And he’d used up all his sick leave back when he broke his leg. So,when the Squad rolled into the engine bay after their most recent run, he wasn’t interested in lunch. He wandered into the dormitory and sacked out on his bunk. He was out like a light within minutes.

Roy had known his partner wasn’t feeling good on the way back from the last call because he was quiet--too quiet. His suspicion was confirmed when he turned down lunch and headed to the dormitory and his bunk instead. He’d likely caught the flu from one of the cases they’d treated that morning. Great… just peachy. He was liable to catch it next. That was just the way it went around the station. Normally, he had a good immune system, but there was just something about Johnny’s germs that got to him every time. Stubborn little buggers!

“You OK there, Roy? You’re lookin’ kinda pale.” Cap sat down across the table from his senior paramedic with his loaded submarine sandwich. “Where’s John got to? That twit had better not be planning any pranks to get even with the Phantom.” He scowled at Chet, who was on the sofa petting Henry. “You’ll be on latrines for the next six months for the stunt you pulled this morning.” 

Chet listlessly raised a hand in acknowledgement but said nothing. He went back to scratching the big basset hound behind the ears. 

Roy told Cap he was fine and that John was asleep and escaped as soon as possible. It wouldn’t pay to have to undergo a third degree from Cap about how he was actually feeling at the moment. He couldn’t afford the time off.

Cap took a bite of his sub and looked around. “No one hungry in this place but me? Buncha twits.” He leveled his gaze on Chet again. “Not even a word of complaint about latrine duty? No blaming the Phantom?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “This day keeps getting stranger.” 

Chet wanted to complain, but he was too nauseous. It would just be too embarrassing to lose his breakfast in front of Cap so he kept his mouth firmly shut. Henry’s warm bulk felt really good. He knew he should call out sick, but he was trying to save up to take Cynthia out on a nice date, so he didn’t want to lose any pay. Besides, it was only a little over half the shift left. He could hack it.

Cap’s gaze lingered on Chet for a while and finally he raised an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting shade of green ya got goin’ there, Kelly.” He took another bite of his sub and then decided to look for Mike. Probably out polishing Big Red. He left his plate and half-eaten sandwich on the table and headed for the engine bay. “Mike? You in here?” 

No Mike. However, Cap heard some really bad sounds coming from the latrine. Someone was losing their lunch in a bad way.

“Oh great,” Cap groaned. “Just what I needed.” With a heavy sigh, he headed for the latrine to see who it was he needed to send home.

Marco was the one losing lunch as it turned out. He and John had spent some time together playing cards and John had given him his flu. In a hurry apparently.

“All right, Marco. I’m callin’ in a replacement for you. Go home, pal. Get some rest and get better quick.” Hank stood back what he hoped was a safe distance from his lineman. He figured he would probably have to send Chet home too--no wonder he looked green.

Just then, Johnny came lurching in from the dorms, a hand over his mouth, and pushed his way into the restroom. Cap sighed again. “You too, John. Finish up there and go home.” 

“Can’t, Cap,” came the weak reply. “No sick leave left.” 

“Go home anyway. I’ll fix it.” 

“Yessir.” John came out of the restroom, still green around the gills. “Sorry, Cap.” He washed his face and brushed his teeth.

Cap remembered his original mission to find Mike, then realized his own throat was beginning to itch. He was gonna kill the whole buncha twits! He went in search of Mike and found him outside working on the radio in his car. He had his normal healthy tan and looked as if he felt fine. “What’s up, Cap?”

“How you feeling?”

“Same as always. Fine. Why?”      

Cap’s eyes narrowed. “Huh… figures.” He coughed. He was starting to regret that submarine sandwich. At the moment, he kinda felt like he was in a rowboat on a stormy sea. He looked at Mike once more and then turned tail and ran for the latrine.

Mike watched him go and shrugged, then turned back to the radio he was fixing. He’d find out what was going on eventually.

While Cap was losing his lunch in the latrine, the klaxons sounded. Sam’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Engine 51, trash fire at 1285 Grand Cross streets Grand and Molton.” 

Cap backed away from the porcelain throne and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. He was pretty sure he couldn’t manage this, but he had to try. He stumbled for the door and out into the engine bay. But wait… he’d already sent Marco home. And where was Chet? 

Chet wormed his way out from under Henry and really did try to get up…but he was so dizzy he fell over. He managed to get back up but collapsed back onto the couch. Henry climbed back into his lap protectively. “Cap,” Chet croaked, “I got a problem!”

“You an’ me both, buddy,” Cap mumbled. He watched as Mike came jogging into the engine bay. Wait… two Mikes? He blinked hard, but he was still seeing double. “Can’t do it, Mikey.” 

Mike nodded and called the station unavailable, letting Sam know what was going on. Sam advised Mike to call HQ to replace the entire shift, himself included, just in case. He was to send the others home and wait for the replacements. The joys of being second in command.

Mike called wives and girlfriends to pick up the others who couldn’t drive, and waited for the replacements. He played solitaire for the two hours it took to get the full shift replaced. Then, he headed home himself, for an unexpected half-shift off. That was fine with him. He’d take Beth and the boys to the beach. Sometimes he was grateful for a really good immune system!

The End

[jessetaylorkoechling]

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Åndalsnes // overlooking a previous midnight stroll 🔉 (at Åndalsnes, Norway)

jesse taylor koechling

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[reyynas]

Mexico is falling into chaos: gas prices skyrocketed (and will continue to go up), therefore all life will become more expensive and salaries are still in the most minimum. People are protesting, all over the country people are rising up because the feeling is already there: it has been enough. There is been a lot of looting, it looked ridiculous on the tv screens and social media but the sensation of apocalypse can't be missed. Some say is a trick of our government. Some say it is the most stupid thing to do. Personally I don't feel it is right to do that, but also I can sense the fear in it. In all of us. And to top it all, Trump and his racist ass just made the dollar go up again. Foreign investors are starting to withdraw their money from our country. This is just not right.

[katb357]

Sicktember 23: Cuddling on the Couch

C. Kelly/A Shift/Emergency! Johnny rolled his eyes as he finished the last of the dishes. "Really, Chet. Get a room already!" He'd had an earful of the love session going on in the day room.

Roy chuckled. He handed John two more plates that had been left on the table. "Forgot these." Johnny groaned. 

Roy turned to face Chet on the sofa. “Yeah, you two. There's a cheap motel down the street if you need some privacy."

Chet snickered. "You're just jealous, Gage, because you don't get this much attention." He settled back to snuggling on the couch, the warmth of his situation soaking into his aching soul. Today had been a hard day and this was helping. So what if the others teased him about the cuddling? He buried his face into the other's luxurious warmth and just enjoyed the moment. He knew it would likely not last, so he was determined to let his depression melt away while he could.

Mike nudged Johnny with his elbow as he came into the day room with a couple of mugs and tossed them into the sink. "Haven't seen a display like that in a long time." He side-eyed Chet. "Is that legal?"

Roy spluttered. He was trying not to bust out laughing. Johnny snorted.

"Chet," Johnny retorted as he dried the final mug and drained the sink. "I'll have you know I get plenty of attention. I just don't look for it in front of everyone!"

Chet ignored the byplay. "Don't listen to 'em, babe. They're just jealous." He was rewarded with a long sigh of satisfaction, and he smiled, closing his eyes. The depression that had been dogging him for the past few days was gone. He always hated this time of year, the anniversary of his grandfather's death. It always got him down.

Chet simply nuzzled closer and was glad the klaxons were cooperating for once. Marco strolled in from the dorms with a bowl and spoon in his hands which he deposited in the sink. When he saw Chet on the sofa, his eyes widened. and he crossed himself. "Ai-ai-ai, amigo! Some things are meant to be done in private!" Chet looked at his partner and rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Johnny cleaned out the sink and turned to face the rest of the men. "That's it. I'm done. Not washin' anything else today." 

At that moment, Cap came from his office and deposited a couple of coffee mugs in the sink. John visibly deflated. "Except that." He sighed and went back to work. "Cap, you see what Kelly's up to over there? Are you as shocked as we are?" 

Eyes narrowing, Cap turned to take in the view. He shook his head slowly. "Scandalized," he deadpanned. "But I don't think the regulations speak to it."

At that point, Chet was nearly pushed off the couch when his companion stretched out for a well-deserved snooze. Chet pushed back, and a battle for the couch ensued, which Chet promptly lost. Henry turned around on the couch and pushed Chet off onto the floor.

At that, the guys all erupted in laughter. Johnny doubled over. "Guess you been told to get lost, Chester B!"

Chet yelled at the now snoring dog. "Thanks a lot, ya ingrate! So much for cuddling!”

The End

[d-lyrical]

Step on a Crack

It's weird...'cause I guess I'm just lonely I'm wantin' a hand to hold and palm to kiss Nothin' too desperate is want that's unholy I'm prayin' but my knees aren't bent

So I guess its just back to my place A cold smaller suite with no view 'cept one of the aged brick and neighbour's tiffany Noisy heat and burnt coffee to breathe ...nothing new

nothin different...no noise to greet me but my own A tattered breath from stairs too great in numbers stubborn keys empty room

It's really just another trek back to normalcy a trample over pavement to my home I'm stompin' over cracks to break any spell of mother some way of bad to bring me good - some backwards happenstance I guess - some idiot's attempt at happiness some morbid way to fix this being alone

//

Grounded in a new type of loneliness (one that was my own - not born out of toxic co-dependancy with another person). There was always tension between accepting this loneliness as reality and searching for something to shift it.