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This isn't right, Geoff mused as he held the shivering Brit to his chest, allowing the younger man to desperately cling to him, his face hidden in Geoff's t-shirt, the rest of the guys plus Lindsay keeping their distance, but no less concerned, These aren't just normal nightmares.
Geoff couldn't have been more correct with his unspoken thoughts; as the gunshot faded from his mind's eye, Gavin internally sighed. The cat was out of the bag now, there was no way he could deny that these nightmares were the reason he had turned into a living zombie within the last week and a half. The damn things started with an innocent conversation about the zombie apocalypse, and who they thought would survive it. Gavin had joked that he would be a zombie within hours, his reasoning being that he would have a seizure in the worst place possible. "No," Geoff had said, "I'd be a zombie because I'd be trying to save your dumb ass."
Geoff couldn't have known the pain he would cause with that one playful statement; hell, Gavin himself hadn't been expecting it, until that very line played out quite graphically in his dreams that night. At first, he wrote it off as too much Dead Rising and not enough actual sleep. Then it happened again. And again. Gavin found himself trapped in an endless loop, leaving him worn down and weary, his body craving sleep his mind refused to allow him to receive.
The others had started noticing a few days into it, questioning his slow movements and increased coffee intake, though he just wrote them off as moving jitters; buying your first house was a big step. They seemed to accept it well enough, though he knew they were keeping an eye on him; he could understand why, however. Less sleep equaled more seizures; not that they knew just how much more. His phone lay dormant during most of the incidents, unless he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it, like if he wasn't alone in the office. Most of them only lasted a few seconds, a minute at most, and it wasn't like he could get any more exhausted.
It all boiled over today, when he was caught, the rest of the Hunters returning from lunch to find Gavin with his head on the desk, his body feeling heavy thanks to the newest seizure; this one had been longer and more intense than the ones from the days before and left him feeling as though he couldn't move on his own. Ryan was the one to gently pick him up, at Geoff's instruction, moving him to the couch; Gavin was far too tired to argue, settling down into the cushions, his co-workers' voices sounding far away and garbled, like he was underwater. A blanket being thrown over him was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.
What he missed, however, was the quiet, concerned conversation the rest of the men had, settled in their respective chairs, watching the Brit worriedly. Each couldn't help but wonder what had caused the man to reject sleep and reject their aid with the seizures. None of them could recall a moment when they may have unwittingly pushed Gavin away; nothing had been different.
At least, until now, with Gavin clinging to Geoff like a child would cling to a father, the demons still haunting his mind. The scream that had ripped through the office had thoroughly scared them, each Hunter expecting the worst, Lindsay darting out of the Thugs' office where she had been alone, all of them approaching the thrashing foreigner, but only Geoff dared to kneel next to him, soothingly attempting to wake his psudo-son. Green eyes snapped open in alarm, his breathing labored and panicky, his gaze darting around the room like he was waiting for the world to collapse on him.
"Gav? Gavin, you're alright. It was just a nightmare. You're safe; you're in the office," Geoff's voice took a fatherly tone, his hand gently smoothing over Gavin's quivering arm. The next moment, Gavin was clinging to him in desperation, tears he would never normally shed staining Geoff's cotton shirt. The Hunters stayed quiet, keeping their distance until they received the signal that they were alright to approach, almost as if Gavin was a scared animal.
These aren't just normal nightmares, Geoff repeated to himself as he finally picked up what Gavin was murmuring into his shirt. "I'm sorry" and "You're okay" were muffled in the soft, blue fabric. All Geoff could do was rub the man's back, humming soft reassurances that, yes, despite the dream, Geoff was very much okay, if a bit worried. His fingers on his opposite hand came up to tangle in Gavin's sandy hair, doing his damnedest to calm the man in his arms.
The only person willing to get close to the duo had been Ray, gingerly offering Geoff a bottle of water that they knew Gavin would probably need following this spell. A quiet thank you was all that was offered in return to the Puerto Rican, not that he truely expected anything more.
It took a while before Gavin started to get his breathing and shivering under control, tears slowly stopping as fatigue set in tenfold. Geoff was still holding him close, still cradling him like he would his daughter, still willing to soothe the British lad. Geoff felt Gavin start to sag, realizing the toll the crying had taken on Gavin's already exhausted body; he couldn't stay in the office. He needed to be home, in bed, where he could recover his lost rest. A split second later saw the Gent picking the scrawny 26-year-old up, ignoring the tired squeak from the aforementioned man, their co-workers coming to the same realization, Ryan quietly offering to drop off their stuff later, Jack going to inform Burnie and Matt of their departure. For a moment, Geoff was actually thankful for the idiots he had hired, giving them a grateful smile as he traipsed out of the room, Gavin still hiding his face from anyone else, though, at some point, he had taken hold of the bottle of water.
Gavin didn't remember much about the drive home, his consciousness slipping and returning intermittently as it wanted, Geoff staying silent as he navigated Austin traffic. He must have called Griffon at some point, as the woman was waiting for them at the door when Geoff carried the weak Brit inside, instantly going to the back, knowing Gavin would be much more comfortable in his own bed than on the Ramseys' couch.
The soft cushions of the mattress soothed his weary body and he quite contentedly curled into the blankets, barely registering the removal of his jeans and shoes. Though he did register the bed dipping as Geoff settled beside him, much like he would during the night watch; he also registered the bed dipping on the other side of him, Griffon joining her husband in his vigil. Finally feeling safe, and assured that Geoff wasn't going anywhere, Gavin finally passed out.
A few hours passed before he awoke once more, noting blearily that Geoff was missing, and he felt that panic grip his heart, until he realized he wasn't alone. Griffon was still settled beside him, hand playing with his hair as she read her book in the dying light seeping through the blinds. Silently, he rolled over, resting his head on her leg, settling down once more.
"Geoff is in the main house, if you're wondering. Ryan just popped in to check on you and bring your stuff home. I think Geoff's talking to him," Gavin only replied with an accepting hum, eyes closed as he took in the gentle scalp massage he was being subjected to, pleasurable tingles making their way down his spine, "No nightmares?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Good. You wanna tell me what they're about? Might make you feel better."
He hesitated, before speaking, voice soft, "Geoff gets hurt because of me, because I have a seizure and he's protecting me. He dies and it's all my fault.”
Griffon hummed softly, continuing her gentle movements on his scalp, “Is there more to it?”
“Yeah,” he sighed softly, shifting closer, “But it’s bloody dumb. We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, Geoff and I go looking for supplies, he gets bitten trying to save me from zombies, I make it back to Ryan. Later, they all tell me that Geoff would have been okay with dying for me because he wanted me, you and Millie to live. Then, Ray and Michael show up telling us that Geoff is a zombie. I feel guilty, I grab a shotgun, and I go and shoot Geoff-zombie because I didn’t want him to be like that.”
“Wow,” she replied quietly, regarding the younger man carefully, “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah.”
“Part of that is right, though. Geoff would protect you with his life if it got down to it. As much as you wouldn’t want him to, he would.”
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, though, Griffon. If he got hurt because I had a seizure at a stupid moment. If any of them did, really,” his voice was still so quiet, slightly muffled by the fact that he was trying to hide his face. He peeked up at Griffon’s gentle chuckle.
“I doubt you have much to worry about in the way of the apocalypse, Gavin.”
“But I still worry. Not about that, but about someone getting hurt because I couldn’t help myself.”
“Don’t. There’s nothing to worry about. Because, even if you didn’t have seizures, Geoff would still protect you. And, you know what? I think you would protect him, if the roles were reversed. It’s not something you really need to think about, Gav. Just know there are people willing to help you when you need it, and that you would help in return. That’s all you can do.”
She only managed to receive a gentle nod in response before Geoff returned, raising an eyebrow at Gavin’s position, cuddling Griffon’s leg sleepily, “Copping a feel, asshole?”
“Nah, Griffon would kick my ass if I tried anything,” Gavin smiled playfully at his boss, exhaustion still evident in his features, “You just weren’t here to cuddle.”
“Awww! Then come here buddy, let me cuddle you!” Geoff grinned, diving onto the bed and proceeding to gather Gavin into a bear hug, which quickly turned into a tickle fight and wrestling match, Geoff keeping himself in check, knowing the lack of energy the Brit had to be suffering from. Their antics were cut short by Griffon pushing them off the bed, smirking down at the heap of grown men.
“I don’t know how I still put up with you two.”
“Because you love us?” Geoff replied hopefully, grinning up at his wife, pleased at the kiss he received in return, Gavin teasingly making a gagging noise beside him.
“Now, get back up here, and get some sleep, Gavin. Don’t make me count to three.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she could only laugh as Gavin desperately crawled back under the covers, not willing to endure Griffon’s motherly wrath; if there was anyone worse than Burnie Burns when it came to maternal instincts, it was one Griffon Ramsey. Geoff returned to his post, ruffling Gavin’s hair as the Brit settled back down between the two who had become his American family, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Guys?”
“Yeah, Gav?”
“Thanks…for everything.”