spewpapaspew spewpa?

☝️🤔

Die gesamte Bevölkerung wird unter Generalverdacht gestellt, den Sozialstaat auszunutzen. Arztpraxen werden komplett überlastet sein. Eine mögliche Entlastung durch Telefon-AU soll abgeschafft werden. Statt Lösungen für die tatsächlichen Problem für gestiegene Krankschreibungen zu liefern, werden weiter Therapieplätze abgebaut. Jemand, der mal einen Tag nicht zur Arbeit kann, wird nun wahrscheinlich mind. einen Tag länger fehlen, weil Fahrt zur Arztpraxis und stundenlange Wartezeit wahrscheinlich nicht zur Genesung beitragen werden. Ärzte werden wahrscheinlich ohnehin häufiger gleich für eine ganze Woche krankschreiben, weil sie auch nicht riskieren wollen, dass die gleiche Person am nächsten Tag wieder vor der Tür steht. Und wer blau machen will, macht trotzdem noch blau - denn dafür gibt es auch immer Gründe und der Gang zum Arzt wird niemanden davon abhalten.

*

"Hey there."

Leo stumbles over his legs, taking some effort to get his balance back as he spins around to see Jason. Ever since the Argo II decided to explode into a million pieces (thanks Octavian, way to go destroying Leo's prime creation), taking him with it, something hasn't been quite right with his right ear. Everything sounds odd, and something about his balance has gotten noticeably worse. Calypso had offered him ambrosia and nectar, but Leo doesn't think that it's done anything.

"Jason, hi," he says. "How'd you get in here? Didn't I lock the door behind me?"

Jason peers at him over his glasses, head tilted to the side not unlike a puppy. The face mask covering his mouth and nose doesn't reveal his expression, but Leo likes to think that Jason's got that soft expression on his face that seems to be reserved for him. "You gave me a key?"

Leo snaps. "Yeah! Forgot about that. Engine fumes got to me again, you know how it is."

That makes Jason's eyebrows knit together. "If the fumes in here are so bad, shouldn't you- I don't know -increase the airflow?"

Leo shrugs. "I'm made of tougher stuff than that, you know."

Jason comes closer, and almost hesitantly reaches out as if to hold onto some part of Leo. He's been doing that since Leo had decided that fair was fair and died, only to return from Hades a slightly more broken man - it's sweet, almost like Jason is trying to reassure himself that Leo's still kicking. They're even now, with both of them having a death under their belts.

"Will's told me about what bad air does to people," Jason says, holding onto Leo's hand even if it means that he's covered in soot and dust and engine oil and a million other suspicious substances. "I wouldn't want you to get COPD at eighteen."

Leo snorts. "Doesn't the ichor in my blood cancel out that? You don't gotta worry about me, Superman. It takes more than that to knock me out."

When Jason speaks, Leo can hear the smile beneath the mask. "Come outside with me. It's almost dinner time. If I'm late, they'll have my head."

They in this case refers to the Apollo cabin, but mostly Will, who is very specific about Jason taking his heartrate management medication at the exact same time every day. Leo's still not entirely sure what it does, but since being put on it, it seems like Jason's gotten noticeably less tired.

"My saviour," Leo says jokingly as he pulls Jason over to the sinks to wash off the gunk they're covered in. The white button off he's been wearing over his camp shirt needs a wash, but Leo has yet to find a chemical degreaser that gets off the worst of the stains. Another reason why this shirt stays in the bunker and doesn't see the light of day. He can be glad that Jason's seen worse. He's not exactly Hot Stuff Valdez dressed like this.

They wash and degrease in silence, and when they're done, Jason digs out the big tub of the good hand lotion he'd gotten gifted by the Aphrodite cabin, scooping out a generous amount before grabbing onto Leo's hands and lathering them up with an almost-embarrassing amount of care.

Leo flushes. "Mi cielo..."

"You work so hard," Jason says, quiet and so clearly fond. "Let me do this for you."

It feels like a second and a lifetime all at once before Jason seems to be done.

"Thanks, sky boy," Leo says. Jason's still holding onto his hands and he can't seem to find it within himself to pull away. Jason's hands are so, so cold, compared to his own burning heat and he thinks back to the times where Jason's entire body had short of his feet had felt cold, where he'd fainted from the blood pooling in his legs. Jason doesn't faint as much now on the medications he takes.

He clears his throat. "Dinner?"

Jason nods, and he lets go of one of Leo's hands. The other one, his left, Jason holds onto, grasping it tight. It doesn't seem that he has any intention of letting go.

Leo doesn't ever want him to.