Page 36 of Fox
He groans as his massive, shivering body falls onto his couch, still in his cocoon.
“Listened,” I think he’s trying to sound authoritative, but the floral quilt he’s wrapped himself in and his muffled, nasally voice adding unnecessary b’s and d’s to his words makes it very hard to take him seriously. “I’m going to stay home today, not because I’m too sick to go in, but because I feel like I deserve some time off. Also, I’m putting At in charge, so don’t think about going in there and trying to take over. And you tell Derek that I know the exact position Vanessa was left in, and if she's touched in any way, I'll come over there and ram my tongue down his throat.”
God, he’s such an idiot.
Shaking my head, I sit on the couch cushion nearest his head. I’m about to fuck with him about the tongue down the throat thing, but decide I’ll circle back to that later. “So, you’d put Atlas in charge over me?” Sitting this close, I notice his body shaking terribly.Jesus, how high is his fever?
“Yes.” He says, burying his face into the cushion.
I head to the kitchen in search of cold medicine and a thermometer. “Why?” I ask, only half interested in whatever bullshit excuse he throws out.
“I trust his judgment.” He groans and I bark out a laugh while rifling through his bare medicine cabinet. Only the smallest bottle of ibuprofen and it expired four years ago.
“You trust the judgment of a man who got his butthole tattooed over me?” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him in shock. Fox perks his head up, wincing as he does so. He grips the back of his couch and points his finger at me.
“It was the ass cheek, and it was for charity.” I look at him skeptically before remembering the day Atlas got the tattoo.
“Oh my god… You have the same tattoo!” His gray face goes even paler, and he curls his accusatory finger back to his chest before covering his head with the blanket.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbles, and I can’t hide the massive grin on my face.
“Show me.”
I hear him attempt a scoff, but he ends up coughing. “I am not showing you my ass.”
“Fox Simmons, you show me your ass right this minute!” Wow, I never thought those words would leave my mouth. “I mean, unless you’re self-conscious.” I taunt, watching his body stiffen. Fox rolls his head to glare at me before standing up. There's no way he’s about to show me. Fox turns his back to me before his hands go to the waistband of his pajama pants and—oh my god!
“It’s a sloth!” I gasp out, falling to the floor in hysterics as I look at the sloth on his right butt cheek. “Oh my god, what’s he reaching out for!” I squeal as Fox yanks his pants back up and crawls under the covers.
“His friend, alright!”
“No,” I breathe out as I try to sit up. “Fox, if you tell me Atlas has one on his left ass cheek, reaching out for yours—”
“It was for charity!” He coughs out as I continue cackling on the ground.
Once I can get myself together, I stand up and walk over to the bundled man. “Does he have a name?” I ask sweetly.
Fox lets out a weak growl while glaring at me. “Go. Fucking. Away.”
Chuckling, I grab my bag before heading to the front door. “Oh! It’s like inThe Office! Andy gets a Nard Dog! Yours can be the Sim Sloth!”
“Get out!” He roars as I close the door behind me, still laughing at him.
“You could do this at home!”Derek calls while spraying the area with Lysol. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head while pulling my phone out of my pocket. I’ve been here fifteen minutes, and Derek has not shut up about the possibility of me being a carrier for the sickness.
“God, you’re such a baby.” I roll my eyes at Derek and grab my phone to text Fox, only briefly looking at the countless notifications that have popped up before ignoring them.
Me: Papa Fox
Me: Sim Sloth!
Me: COME ONNNNN! I need proof of life and a temp check! I’m going to the pharmacy to grab you some medicine.
All my messages are left unread. I mean, I guess he could be asleep. I hope he is. He looked so bad when I left. The sound of wheels on tile grabs my attention, and I turn to see Atlas soar through the tattoo area, kneeling on his spinning stool with his arms out.
“Jack, I’m flying!” He sings out and… Oh yeah, his judgment is definitely the one that needs to be trusted.
I shake my head when he crashes into Ash’s station. “Well, it would appear you all have this covered, so I’ll just let you men handle this while I go to the pharmacy.”
