As soon as JC opened his eyes he knew it was going to be a bad day. No, they didn’t have a rehearsal. They didn’t have a show. They didn’t even have an interview. It was actually their first day off in a long time. Usually JC spent his days off sleeping, writing, or listening to music, ignoring Chris and Justin as they played video games and/or basketball and filtering out Joey’s and Lance’s conversations about who knows what. This time JC had planned to spend the day in his bunk writing letters to his family and catching up on his latest book. Alas, this time the guys decided to take JC to the one doctor’s appointment he always tried to miss.
The appointment to get his flu shot.
Every time Flu season came around JC would find excuse after excuse to get out of getting the shot. One year he even went as far as saying that he had all ready gotten the shot and made some sort of elaborate lie to make sure he wouldn’t have to go. He even got his mother and his siblings in ont it and it would’ve worked well if the doctor hadn’t called to wonder why JC hadn’t gone to his schedule appointment.
Justin and Joey eventually had to be the ones to take JC to the doctor, kicking and screaming. He even terrified a bunch of little kids that were in the waiting room to get their shots and started a mini riot. They knew that JC was afraid of needles but his fear was getting ridiculous and old.
Joey, Lance, and Chris jumped when Justin slapped down a large piece of paper onto the kitchen table one morning. Chris looked up, ready to say something to get on Justin’s nerves (he wasn’t a morning person) but his teasing comment died on his tongue when he saw the look in Justin’s eye.
“What’s up, Jup?” Chris asked slowly.
“Do you know what time of year it is?” Justin asked.
“Holiday season?” Lance guessed.
“No.”
“Justin’s-Curls-Are-Untamable Season?” Joey asked with a laugh.
Justin’s lip twitched at the mention of his curls but he let out a slow breath and gave Joey a relaxed smile. “No, thank goodness. I still have a few weeks left before that happens. No, boys, flu season. Better known as—“
“Get JC’s-Ass-To-The-Doctor-Without-Getting-A-Concussion Season,” Chris replied, jumping up. “What’s the plan this year?”
“Simple,” Justin replied, waving his hands at the map and then explaining some elaborate scheme that involved some ropes, duct tape, and somehow a rubber duckie. Joey and Lance stared at Justin throughout his explanation as if he had just grown a second head while Chris was nodding in all the right places as if he were actually listening. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think…” Chris said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Last person to say ‘not it’ has to—“
“NOT IT!” Joey, Lance, and Justin yelled at once, quickly bringing their fingers up to their noses.
“The fuck?” Chris asked, staring at them. “Hey, that’s not fair you little fuckers!”
“You snooze, you lose,” Justin laughed. “By the way his appointment is in an hour so you might want to get on the road.”
“Where is the little fucking baby?” Chris asked.
“Sleeping,” Justin, Lance, and Joey replied in unison.
Grumbling under his breath, Chris navigated his way through the house to get to JC’s room, all the while trying to find a way to get JC out of bed. Chris assumed that JC knew that he had to get a flu shot that day so he’d put a up a bigger fight than usual. Chris was stronger than JC but JC had longer limbs and could easily smack Chris out of the way. Chris paused outside of JC’s door, tapping his chin.
He could try and tied JC up and shove him into the trunk…? No, that wouldn’t work. The neighbors would wonder. They were weird all ready but he didn’t want to give the neighbors another reason to want them out. He could trick JC into thinking that they’re going to the music store. Chris shook his head again. JC wouldn’t buy that, he was too smart for that. What could he do?
Chris snapped and grinned and burst into JC’s room. JC jumped at the sound, looked over at Chris, and then collapsed on the bed and let out a long slow breath. “C’mon, Josh. Up!” Chris said as he started clapping. Yes, clapping, as if he were a mother. And he knew that JC hated it when people clapped to emphasize their points. JC muttered something incoherent and pulled a pillow over his head. “What was that?” Chris asked, leaning close to the lump. JC stuck his hand out from under the covers and held up his middle finger. “You can flip me off all you want, hell you can keep that finger shoved up your nose for all I care but you’re going to the doctor whether you like it or not.”
“Try it,” JC’s muffled voice reached Chris’s ears as he lifted the pillow slightly. Chris grinned evilly and JC swore he saw devil horns appear on his head as well as fire erupt in the background. Chris rubbed his hands together, reached under the covers, and grabbed JC by the ankles.
“C’mon, Jace. Stop being a little girl!” Chris grunted, pulling at JC’s feet to slide him out of the bed. JC’s hands clasped down on his headboard.
“Chris, knock it off!” JC groaned.
“You have to get your shot!” Chris tugged harder but JC held on tight.
“Chris!”
JC’s ankles slid out from Chris’s grasp and Chris tumbled backwards, landing in JC’s hamper as JC fell onto the bed. He tried to jump out of bed but he got tangle in his sheets. Chris took it as an opportunity to get out of the hamper and jump on top of the JC-sized bed lump.
“Get off me!” JC yelled, thrashing under the covers.
“Joshua Scott, you need to get your flu shot! Remember the last time you were sick? You made us all miserable and wanted us to kill you!” Chris grunted, trying to pull the covers away from his blue-eyed friend.
“I don’t need to go anywhere. Let me get sick, I don’t care.”
Chris managed to yank the covers off of JC’s head and glared down at him. “You might not care but we’re not staying up with you as you hack and cough and wheeze yourself through two weeks of torture! Now get the fuck up, get your ass in the car, and let’s get this over with so we can go back to our fucking lives!”
“You know you get really high strung once Christmas rolls around,” JC commented, changing the subject.
Chris leaned close to JC’s face so their noses were touching. “I wonder why.” JC managed to struggle some more and throw Chris off of him. He had jumped up and ran to the door but Chris jumped off of the bed and tackled JC to the ground. “You’re acting like a fucking baby! Grow a pair and get to the doctor’s office!”
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chris flipped through the magazine he was reading with so much fury some of the pages ripped off in his hands. They would’ve been in and out of the doctor’s office by now but noooo, JC had to go and be a scared little fucker and slow them down. It took Chris ten more minutes to chase JC around the hard before shoving him into the car and locking all of the doors so he couldn’t get out all the while Fucker #1, # 2, and # 3 laughed as they watched through the window.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, when Chris stopped to get gasp JC practically lost it and ran into the mini-mart, locking himself into the bathroom. It eventually turned into a waiting game: either JC would stay in the bathroom and suffer through the sewage-like gunk or he’d go to the doctor. Eventually Chris got the manager to bust down the door and he dragged JC out and back to the car. He figured the press would have a field day if they ever found out what was going on.
To make matters worse the Christmas decorations in the office, specifically the lights, were mocking him by how happy they seemed by blinking and twinkling and sparkling. He wanted to hang himself with the lights because of the stress that JC put him through.
“Excuse me, mister,” a little kid said as he nudged Chris knee.
“Hmmm?” Chris grunted, looking down at the kid.
The kid smiled brightly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand before rocking back and forth on his heels. “Excuse me, mister, I just wanted…I wanted to know is Santa real?” he asked with big eyes.
“Why?” Chris asked slowly.
“Because my…my sister said, she said that he’s not real and he is real. He is, but I want…I want to be able to prove it to her,” he replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.
“You know kid, your sister’s right. Stana’s not real,” Chris said slowly as the boys eyes widened. “And do you want to know how I know? Because if Santa were real he’d get me a Get-Out-Of-Jail card so I wouldn’t have to do time for killing him!” He jerked his thumb in JC’s direction who was staring at the tv, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “And since that won’t happen that means there is no Santa fucking Claus, kid!”
“Mommy!” The kid wailed, running over to his mother.
“Merry fucking Christmas!” Chris yelled after the kid. He turned and looked at JC who was looking at him incredulously. “What?”
“Do you know what you just did?” JC asked. “You just shattered a kid’s dream.”
“That won’t be the only thing in here that gets shattered if you don’t get your fucking shot! Damn!” Chris grumbled, turning back to his magazine.
Just then the doctor came out, looking at a clipboard and calling JC’s name. JC stood and walked over to the doctor but paused by the door. “Aren’t you coming with me?” JC asked.
“You want me to hold your hand?” Chris asked, lifting his eyebrows. “I’m not gay. Now you, I don’t you, you sure seem to like pink…” JC rolled his eyes and let out a breath. Grumbling, Chris threw down the magazine and walked over to JC. He paused and turned to look at the woman who was glaring at him. “What’re you looking at, lady? It’s not my fault you’ve lied to your kid all these years!”
“Chris!” JC grabbed Chris’s collar and dragged him after the doctor.
Chris stood with his arms crossed over his chest as JC was ordered to take off his shoes to get his weight (167 lbs) and height (5’11”) and then was directed into a room where he got his ears, eyes, mouth, blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing checked. And then the doctor said he’d be back with JC’s flu shot and that’s when the shit hit the fan.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
“Hey, they’re back!” Justin called, as he looked out the window while hanging ornaments on the tall tree in the living room. He chuckled at the sour look on Chris’s face as he stomped up the sidewalk to the house, JC following sheepishly behind.
“How’d it go?” Joey asked, sticking a bow on top of a wrapped gift.
“How’d it go?” Chris repeated as JC shrugged out of his jacket. “How’d it go? Joseph, this guy is a maniac!” Chris said as JC walked into the room and dropped down on the couch.
“I didn’t do anything,” JC grumbled. Chris laughed out loud. “Well, at least I didn’t tell a kid that Santa isn’t real.”
“Chris, you didn’t!” Lance laughed.
“Details,” Chris said as he waved his hand. “Anyway, we get into the doctor’s office and everything was fine. At least, it was fine up until the doctor tried to take his temperature. Let me tell you, I haven’t seen Jace run so fast in my life.”
“You ran away from a thermometer!?” Justin asked while stifling a laugh.
“Tell the story, Josh,” Chris prompted.
JC made incoherent sounds before sighing. “The nurse came in, and I thought it was shot time. She broke out this thing…” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and started again, looking anywhere but at his friends. “And I didn't know what it was. I thought it was the needle, so I just yelled and ran out the door.”
Lance, Joey, and Justin burst out laughing as JC blushed. “But that wasn’t the best part,” Chris said with a fake smile. “Once the doctor came in with his flu shot he tensed his muscles on purpose so the doctor couldn’t stick it in. They had to give him a muscle relaxer and once they got it in JC started kicking at him, telling him to get it out of his arm. I was surprised we weren’t kicked out and blacklisted from every doctor in the tri-state area!”
“Did he get his shot at least?” Lance asked.
“Yeah, after I had to sit on his chest and threaten to hock a loogie in his mouth,” Chris replied.
“Ew,” Justin muttered, making a face. “At least he got it.”
“Yeah, and for being such a brave boy you can open one of your presents now,” Chris said, grabbing a present from under the tree and throwing it onto JC’s lap.
JC tugged at the ribbon that held the box shot, ripped off the paper, and opened the lid. He let out a little yelp and ran out of the room as Chris laughed and picked up the dropped object.
“Chris, you didn’t,” Lance laughed, looking at the object.
“I did,” Chris said proudly. “Best ten dollars I’ve ever spent on a pen,” he said proudly, pressing down on the top of the syringe pen so the pen stuck out of the bottom. “Merry Christmas fucker! I mean, sucker.”
