Work Text:
The routine was perfect. Done like every other night he'd drugged the complimentary water bottle in Jay's room, that he, like clockwork, drank greedily from. He never took very good care of himself, and this night was no different, giving in to his bodily needs of water and food, and quickly, sleep, when it took hold and he dizzily staggered to his bed, collapsed and boneless. It was a perfect setup, and the routine itself was perfect too.
Stripped of clothes, first, he was bathed. Placed in warm water with soap brought in specially for Jay, no longer subjecting him to the too sharp smell of chemical lavender and the sandpaper rough feeling it left on his dry skin. It wasn't the best kind of soap- Brian didn't really have a lot of time to browse before instinct and paranoia took over and he stuffed as many "nice" soaps as he could into his pockets and dashed out with the basket full of clothing specifically for his guide. But it was nicer than the crap that Jay subjected himself to on the off-chance he remembered to shower between watching tapes, and it looked nice in thick laves of sudsy layers over his warmth-pinked skin, and rinsed off in the steaming water. His head lolled to the side without the support of his neck, unawake and unaware of his situation, which seemed to be rather common even without the aide of rohypnol.
Then came the massage. Jay, light as a feather, lifted from the water and pat gently dry with the well-used hotel towel, then laid over the bed with limbs splayed out and practically radiating heat from him. It made Brian smile beneath the mask, which he wore out of necessity, knowing the cameras were watching as he grasped Jay's left foot, digging his thumbs in against the soreness in the arch of it, watching with glee at how he twitched in his deep sleep, and let out the barest of noise. It was gratifying to Brian, made his skin warm and his grin wide, and his touch all the more reverent to wrench more raw sounds from the pit of Jay's unconscious chest. He worked his way upward, feeling along the tendons of his calf, all stiff and strung tight like mandolin string from days of walking through Rosswood, and running from that monster. Up to his knee where he could feel knots from hours of sitting in a chair, bouncing his leg, jittering with nervous energy and paranoia at the content that unfolded beneath him; boring nature shots, Alex's bad narration, stalking, totheark scraps and taunts, his own shaky filming as he reviewed the night before, Tim's mask, his own mask, and countless screen tears- countless glitches. It made the joints ache, but he was there to fix that, and in that moment, that perfect clockwork moment where he rubbed soothing circles against the bone and felt the muscle release tension.
The other leg was given the same process, and upwards further still, up to his thighs, up to his hips, ignoring the slight smell of sweat and vaginal fluid and Jay in his entirety for the sake of his focus, his duty. Jay was his leader, his guide, the front runner of their fucked up pilgrimage to the Ark and if they were to make the trip they had to be well taken care of. Brian took care of himself well enough; and Tim, in his lucid moments, did so as well. But Jay was dedicated to his cause, his duty, and in his dedication he neglected all other obligations... especially the ones to himself. So Brian was here, and Brian was taking care of him.
And Brian took care of all of Jay's needs when Jay neglected them.
He pulled back to admire his work, staring down at Jay, breathing so slow and perfect, finally calm with the drug in his system. He wasn't really one to rely too heavily on narcotics like that, it filled him with a sort of disdain and think of himself as half-unworthy of being able to put his boys to sleep when need be... but they had their perks and purposes, and giving Jay a moment's peace was one of them. It was a necessary thing, and it resulted in him being able to so graciously take care of Jay, as if to repay him the debt of piling all the responsibility of leading them to the Ark onto his fragile shoulders.
Or maybe he was just selfish, and taking more of what Jay didn't have to give.
Either way, he allowed himself the moment to lean back on his haunches, staring down at the perfection that was Jay. Too skinny and too long, too pale, too tired, too starved, too much weight on him. And yet, he was perfect. A suitable leader, and a suitable object for Brian to pour his love and expectation into.
A suitable object who just relieved his full bladder on the already fairly stained mattress.
It was such a shock to Brian that it didn't even fully register to him as he stared blinking down at Jay and the spreading puddle of urine. It fully hit him with the smell of it, sharp and acrid and he could barely believe it, wanting to be infuriated, but instead, feeling exhausted and realizing the error of drugging the water, which jay had practically gulped down the whole bottle of. Maybe he should have left out a glass instead of a one liter bottle.
"You can't be serious." He said out loud, to no one in particular except the camera and Jay's sleeping body, who's face was now lax with the relief. Well, at least he was happy with it, Brian had to suppose, as he rolled the unconscious body over so it didn't linger in the piss stain, and yanked his mask off with a feeling of immediate nakedness. Already he knew what to do; and to do so with a sewn up balaclava would be impossible. He shoved the thing in his pocket, standing up and moving to the dresser where he knew Jay kept his bag, rifling through it to retrieve his wallet. Hotel rooms weren't cheap, after all, and he wasn't about to pay for it out of his own pocket... even if the accident was technically his fault. He didn't think about it too hard, holding the crumpled 100$ bill too tight in his sweaty hand as he left the room with one last glance cast over his shoulder at Jay to judge if he would be waking up any time soon, and if he did, would it be such an issue? There had to be some merit in knowing that Jay would awake in a puddle of his own urine.
Brian wouldn't say he wasn't cruel in his choice to spare him that fate, because when it came down to it, Brian was cruel, viciously so. But he was also pragmatic. And pragmagatism is what lead to him taking the stairs two-at-a-time to the first floor, strolling up to the check-in desk with a strained smile and claiming he'd like a room for the night, trying to ignore how the words came out awkward and how the stare directed to his sweaty face and sunken in his eyes was one of fear. He was given a keycard, and a look that said 'please don't hurt me', and he escorted himself out. Dragging Jay to the next room was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was late at night, and the people who were awake at this time with him were doing much more important things to do than gawking at a man dragging another man, naked and unconscious, across the entire length of the hallway.
So he at least had that comforting thought to get him through the rest of the night when he finally had Jay on the bed, patting down his thighs with a wet rag to ensure he didn't get a rash, and the grim decision to lower the dosage later.