Aftermath

John just laughed. "Yeah, I thought I could hold it down, but I was wrong. I'm sorry, I must have look like a hot mess." John pouted. "But for future reference, I'm allergic to garlic, peppers and strawberries, as they will kill me. And hazel nuts give a horrible rash all over my face that just makes me look...extremely unattractive." John explained, looking down at his lap.

"Well puking aside, I find it hard to believe you'd ever look unattractive. You're in charge of food when we hang out. I'll handle the entertainment." He does his trademark hair shake, only to wince. "Okay, ow. That was a bad idea."

John giggled. "Sounds like a deal. Now lay down next me and hold me. I still feel like shit." John said, smiling sadly.

"Hey now, you don't have the monopoly on feeling like shit. " Heath stretches out next to him. "Well, since we've got the week off together, wanna hang out at my place or yours?" It's a little bold, but what the hell, the worst John can say is no.

"Yours is fine with me... hey do you have any animals?" John asked.

"A dog and a cat. Is that a problem?"

"I'm allergic to dogs... can you stay at my place? I have a cat." John murmured tiredly against Heath's chest.

Heath swallows hard. He's on the road so much, he was looking forward to spending a few extra days with his pets. But allergic was allergic. "Um, yeah. I guess."

John looked up at Heath. "Hey, if you wanna see your pets, I'll be fine. They only make me sneeze, it's not like their saliva is gonna melt my skin off. Don't worry, it's like... having allergies during allergy season, it'll be no big deal, I promise.

Heath presses his lips together. "I don't want you to get all stuffed up and stuff, John. That's not fair."

"No, what's not fair is that you don't get to go home, with me at least, because I'm freakin' allergic to everything. How I'm still alive, I have no idea. I have a lot of allergies, Heath. Some are just minor and you just have to trust me when I say I can deal with them. I will admit, I can't deal with milk or cheese, but dogs? One pill, and I'll be perfectly fine, trust me." John persisted.

"If you're, sure, John." Heath feels a little nervous about it, but he suddenly gets what he hopes is a good idea. "Why don't you bring your cat with you? Mine gets along great with other animals and half the time, the dog thinks he's a cat anyway. That way we can all hang out."

John smiled. "Grazie." He whispered and reached up, kissing Heath. "But will warn you, my cat is probably more like a guard dog than anything, so watch your fingers. God nows how many dead animals I've had to throw out..." John mumbled against Heath's chest. It was true. John's cat was 20 pounds of pure muscle and anger, who attacked anything and everything that posed threatening.

Heath winces a little. "Buster and Santa are pretty mellow." At John's confused look, Heath glances away, laughing a little. "I've had the cat since I was a kid. Momma told me to name him after something I liked and I figured hell, what kid doesn't like Santa?"

John chuckled. "Jewish kids?" John laughed. "Well, Hunter is really just protective of me. So long as your dog doesn't bite me or you don't hit me, he'll be calm as can be. I remember when a a friend came over, and brought his Chihuahua. The thing bite me and Hunter attacked him so bad, the dog almost died in an animal hospital." John chuckled. But he was dead serious. Hi cat could be vicious if need be.

"Holy crap." Heath breathes; he's had dogs all his life, but he's just starting to warm up to cats. Stories like that... geez. "Don't worry, Buster's pretty much a couch with legs. After our run, he usually crashes for the whole day."

John chuckled, sitting up. "If we're going to your place, I should probably pick up Hunter now, before he gets too lonely." They were in Long island for last night's show, it would be a short drive John's condo in LA.

Heath nods. "Doc says I probably shouldn't drive. I already called my cousin and he's gonna pick me up. Gotta get the place looking as good as possible."

John nodded. Heath gave him his adress. "I'm sure the place looks nice." John insisted, smiling.

Heath kisses him on the cheek. "Well it's gotta be perfect for you."

Heath happens to have a spare key on him, which he gives to Johnny; he'd meant to give it to one of the Corre members in case of an emergency, but what the hell? He can always make another copy. After a few more minutes of talking, his ride arrives. The trip is fairly short and Heath spends most of the time either dozing or catching up with his relative.

Once he gets home, he immediately sets to work tidying up, folding and stray clothes that have been strewn around the room, changing the towels, vaccuuming the hell out of the place, doing every damn thing he can think of to make the place clean. Hell, he even moistens, then microwaves the sponge sitting by the kitchen sink; he'd read that doing that killed the bacteria that lived on there. Hell, he even starts dusting.

John's sister drive him back to his condo. When he got home, he was immediately greeted by Hunter. "Oh Hunter, my baby, I missed you!" John said, coddling his cat for a few minutes. "C'mon, your gonna meet my new man."

Heath wonders if he should make dinner, but he's a little terrified of doing that, considering all of Johnny's allergies. Even the only thing he's good at making - mac and cheese - just flies out the window. "Crap."

John arrived at Heath's place, Hunter in his arms considering the big cat got really pissed if he was in a cage. He knocked on the door, waiting for the redhead to open up.

Heath comes over and opens up the door for him, smiling hugely. "Hey there, darlin'! Nice cat." He holds out his hand carefully, letting the cat sniff him first.

Buster, a large black and white Great Dane looks up, blinks, thumps his tail lazily, then goes back to sleep.

John chuckles as the cat wraps hits tail protectively around his arm, and just looked looked at Heath's hand. "Hey, sorry about him, like I said... guard kitty." He said, stepping inside and letting Hunter on the floor, but large, muscled tuxedo cat never left his side.