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It was a calm afternoon in the circus. Unusually calm. In fact, it was so calm that they didn't have an adventure today.
Kinger, for one, was rather worried. He had never known Caine to forget to give them an adventure, so that left—what, him refusing to make one? No, that didn't seem right. he loved making adventures for them all! And Kinger loved going on them.
Caine just put so much work into them that he could hardly hold it against him if there was a moment that he didn't quite like. It didn't seem fair.
And the majority of the time, he loved them anyway.
He was getting off track.
If Caine just simply hadn't bothered to make an adventure, Kinger would eat his robe. Really, he would. So it must be something else.
He was sitting with the others, each of them scattered around the various couches in the main area.
"Have any of you seen Caine at all today?" he asked, trying to concentrate on their answers in the bright daylight.
Ragatha looked thoughtful. "Hmm, I'm not sure that I have. But I think—"
She was cut off by Jax butting in.
"Who cares if we've seen Dentures today, anyway? It's not like it matters."
"I hate to agree with him, but honestly, he's right," Zooble added. "At least we don't have a g[#%&$#!]n adventure today."
He could see where they were coming from, but that certainly did not mean that those we polite answers. Well, aside from Ragatha.
"I'll help you look, if you want, Kinger."
And Pomni.
He smiled at her as well as he could. "Thank you, Pomni!"
They would find him in no time.
~~
An hour later, it seemed as though they would never see Caine again. The two of them had split up sometime around thirty minutes ago for a moment, but quickly got lost in the twisting mess of nearly identical doors and hallways. Kinger was extremely confused.
Hadn't he passed that one earlier?
A quick look inside, and—yes, that was an odd room, but he had seen it before. Upon first glance it seemed to be filled with snow, but a closer look would show that it was just packing peanuts. But when Kinger picked one up, it was heavy. Like the weight of a whole peanut. Strange.
Closing the door once again, he leaned against the wall and sighed. Was he ever going to find Caine?
A few minutes later, he encountered a hallway that he had either missed or had not been there before. With the circus, anything was likely. Although Caine was the main admin, the entire place has a mind of its own.
"Pomni?" he called, voice echoing around the new hall. "Are you there?"
No response.
"K-ki-i-i-nger?"
Wait—was that—
He ran down the hall, offering a cursory glance inside each of the rooms as he went. Door after door was opened until there was just one unassuming red door left at the very end that he had yet to try.
Hand on the doorknob, it creaked open—and Caine was there!
But he didn't look right…His coat was crumpled on the ground, and his shirt had been opened far past what he normally would have considered acceptable. (His version of acceptable was having the collar buttoned up to his neck, but these were open halfway down his stomach!) Caine's bowtie and hat lay discarded on the floor next to him, along with his cane.
He looked as though he was struggling to keep his teeth open as he swayed from side to side. His eyes, normally bright with ideas, were dull and clouded over with some odd rectangles—were those popup ads? The large eyebags underneath them threw Kinger for a loop. His gums looked inflamed and every few seconds his teeth snapped shut and he had to pry them open with his—ungloved—hands.
Caine's unfocused vision darted around him as his balance got worse. Kinger rushed forward with the intent of stabilizing Caine, but he began to fall before he got to him. He dove, hands outstretched, and barely managed to prevent him from hitting the ground.
"Caine! I've been looking for you! What's happened to you?" he asked, gaze steeped in worry. He hadn't seen him look this bad since—well, ever!
The AI tried to speak, but his voicebox was distorted and it seemed like it caused him pain to try, so Kinger didn't push it. Instead, he cradled him in his arms and attempted to stand.
He wasn't able to grab the rest of Caine's things, so he semi-covered him with his robe to give him some semblance of modesty. He hated being seen without his ringmaster attire by the other players. This was the best he could do.
Finding his way back to his pillow fortress was difficult in the labyrinth of halls and doors, but he managed it well enough.
The lobby was void of people now. Odd. He wondered how much time had passed. It was always different in parts of the circus—outside, it was too fast, the main areas were normal, and the random doors and rooms were anybody's guess.
Once outside his fort, he nudged aside the pillow that served as the door carefully, making sure not to knock anything over. He awkwardly shuffled in with Caine, he closed it behind him after setting the other man on top of a pile of pillows.
Turning his attention back to Caine, he noted how he was quickly overheating, moreso than he had earlier. Even with his coat and shirt halfway off he was hot to the touch and emitting a faint whirring sound instead of panting that faintly reminded Kinger of a computer. He lay mostly limp on the pillows save for his hands which were fiddling with the last two buttons on his shirt, trying to get it off. The chess piece took over for him, unbuttoning them quickly, but let Caine decide if he wanted it completely off. He did, and shoved it off his shoulders, wrestling with the thing before giving up and holding out his wrists to Kinger, who gently peeled the cuffs off of him.
Caine flopped backwards, whirring louder. His teeth clamped shut again and he let them stay that way, not even attempting to reopen them.
Kinger repositioned himself so that he could lay Caine's head in his lap, running his fingers over his forehead. Rubbing circles into his bare shoulder. Caressing his stomach, which tensed up with a weak giggle.
Caine turned around to press his face into Kinger's lap, body curled around a throw pillow.
His charoal-colored skin was still hot to the touch, so Kinger took his gloves off and rested his cool hands on top of his back.
"Do-o-nt feel g-goo-d, Ki-i-nger," his glitching voice whispered hoarsely.
"I know, honeybee. I'm sorry. I can check for any viruses, if you'd like," he responded, looking down to see Caine peering up at him through his teeth.
"P-ple-ease."
Kinger kept one hand on Caine's back, but used the other to pull up a screen. Caine's code was extensive, and to search through the whole thing would be time-consuming as well as tiring for the AI. Having someone comb through the code that makes you what you are is exhausting.
Luckily enough for him, there was a simple status effect that popped up as soon as he opened the files.
[influenza_A_virus] StatusEffect
var id:String;
var influenza_A_virus:String;
func apply(p:int, c:int):
potency = p;
count = c;
He deleted that section of code.
Smart, he knew.
Slowly, Caine began to cool down. His whirring slowed as the heat emanating from him decreased, and Kinger smiled down at him.
He would probably still be sick for the rest of the day, but Kinger would be with him for that.
Kinger watched as his lover was hunched over the toilet, retching into it, tears dripping down his face. The poor man had never experienced anything like this before, and he was sure it was horrible.
~~
Caine was not having a good day.
That morning, he had woken up feeling shaky. He tried to go about his day like normal, but found himself struggling to do everyday tasks like making an adventure. He hadn't even managed to make it to the main group to tell them, and felt horrible for it. Instead, he collapsed in a room somewhere no one would find him struggling with this weird feeling.
That's when his fever got worse.
It had taken so much work just to get out of his coat and gloves, which did not want to peel away from his sweaty skin. Then, he had tried to take his shirt off as well when it became too much, but couldn't manage to get it all the way off. Kinger found him, halfway undressed, completely indisposed at the hands of a virus.
Or, at least, he assumed so.
He had barely allowed Kinger to carry him to the fort, afterwards.
(He hadn't been able to fly.)
It was hazy, from there. They had a nice moment inside of his fortress, and Caine thought Kinger deleted what was wrong, but—why did he feel so horrible still?
He was leaning over a toilet with one of Kinger's spare robes around his bare shoulders, trying not to heave. The horrible taste lingered throughout his mouth, sticking to his tongue and making him gag even more.
It was disgusting. He never wanted to feel like this again.
Caine leaned back against the porcelain, teeth just barely opened in a squint.
"I thought-t you f-fi-i-xed it," he mumbled, tasting salt. Were those—tears? When had he started crying?
Kinger's expression was full of concern.
"I tried, honeybee. I think I got all of it—but it's likely you'll still be sick for the rest of the day."
With a groan, Caine dropped his head into his hands.
Kinger rubbed patterns into his back, and Caine leaned into them. They were just…so nice…
Sometime later found Caine back in the pillow fort, teeth brushed and bed-ready.
Well, he had mostly been bed-ready all day, considering he was only halfway clothed. But now, he had a familiar, fluffy purple robe draped around him on top of pinstriped pajama pants, and his head was resting on top of Kinger’s chest.
He still felt shaky, but it was a huge improvement from earlier.
He let himself relax into Kinger’s warm embrace, letting himself hope that he would be back to normal tomorrow.
He would.
And even if he wasn’t, Kinger would be there for him.