J² Fic: Did I Ever Tell You About The Time ...
Title: Did I Ever Tell You About The Time ...
Characters: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 3.000
Warning: G. Unbeta-ed, as always ... This wasn't planned, at all, so please excuse mistakes.
Disclaimer: The boys are happily in love with their beautiful wives. It's all happening in my head.
A/N: Written for the lovely
27_jaredjensen, who's been daring me to go out of my sick!jensen! comfort zone for a while now. It's my first tribute to her lovely sneezy!sammy comment fic meme. So go and read and comment and play!
Prompt: Maaaybe if Jared is just sick and sniffly and sleepy, and FEVERISH of course, and maybe some snuggling with Jensen can happen? And maybe Jensen could wrap him up in lots of blankets and take his temperature and stuff?
***
Heavy drops of rain are drumming against the screen windows. Every so often there is a low roll of thunder or lightning striking in the distance.
It inevitably brings back nostalgic memories of humid summer nights and Texan thunderstorms. Rain in Texas is rare, but when it hits it’s a vicious shower that washes the whole planet clean, making everything new again.
Vancouver rain is different - they never really have big down pours San Antonio and Dallas have. It rains constantly, but it’s rarely more than a light drizzle.
Today is no exception. The light tapping is comforting; a perfect backdrop for the stay-home-and-be-cozy atmosphere the cold winter months up here are known for. The rhythmic pattern keeps lulling Jared into much-needed sleep, when all he can do is toss and turn.
He’d tried to push through the day, but somebody must've said something to the producer - or maybe they'd just gotten tired of re-shooting Sam’s dialogues over and over again - because just before three, he'd been sent home sick with strict orders not to return till he was 100% again.
So now he’s curled up on the couch, his head braced between the cool fabric and a cushion, holding just enough pressure to keep his headache at bay. His eyes are closed against the golden light of the dusking sun that’s pushing its way through grey clouds and misty air and into his living room.
To say that he feels awful would be an understatement.
***
Drifting in and out of sleep, Jared has completely lost track of the hours by the time Jensen gets home from wherever he's been all day.
He listens to the car pull into the drive way. And for a moment, all is completely silent again. Then the thump of Jensen closing the trunk - silence - and a creak when he opens the front door. He brings the cold air inside with him, as he leaps into the heated house; the blast of frigid air freezes the sweat on Jared's neck, his body shivering hard in his thin sweatshirt and flannel pants.
His over-sensitive ears pick up on the tiniest noises, the tinkling of keys, rustling of paper bags. Then Jensen’s voice penetrates the silent room and the sudden volume makes him flinch.
“Hey babe, you’re home?” Jensen asks, while he kicks out of his boots and hangs his coat. “I thought you were working late tonight?” he calls up the stairs.
Jared stirs and tries to sit up, but the pounding in his head tells him it’s a really bad idea.
“I saw your truck in the drive way. Did everything go okay on set?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he leaves the groceries half unpacked on the counter and walks back into the hall. “Jared, where are you?”
It doesn’t take long and the back of the couch dips as Jensen leans over the back cushion, his weight pushing Jared even further into its leathery depths. It’s comforting, increasing the pressure and therefore his sense of security.
“So this is where you’re hiding,” Jensen smiles and presses a kiss onto Jared’s neck, nuzzling his cold nose behind Jared’s ear. “What ya doing home, lazy?
Jared can feel the warm breath ghost over his skin, giving him goose bumps where Jensen’s stubble brushes over his sensitive skin. He relishes the touch, relishes the familiar feeling of it all, and sighs heavily.
Jensen is home.
The blond loses himself in the depths of Jared’s scent, but when Jared doesn’t as much as move, Jensen stops his quest down his boyfriend’s spine.
He backs off a few inches and takes the time to really look at Jared; sees his flushed face, the damp skin. Jared’s eyes meet his and the brown is frighteningly empty; eyes too shiny the way they look at him with raw need.
"Hey, you okay?" Jensen's slipping in beside him now, one hand resting on Jared’s back, the other wiping off the rain drops still clung to his hair.
A whimper escapes Jared’s lips without his permission and Jensen’s eyes soften, though the line between his brows grows deeper with concern.
He presses a hand to Jared’s forehead, frowning and studying his face for answers to the lingering question in room. He acts all casual, as if he does this all the time.
“Jen, don’t …,” Jared squirms under the touch, pushing his head back against the couch as if to cram the headache back into the depths of his brain.
He sounds even worse now than he did back on set. But he can’t fight through the hoarseness any longer; every word leaving his lips hurts like knives piercing his throat.
“Don’t ‘Jen’ me! Why didn't you tell me you were sick?” Jensen says angrily, but deep down it’s the sound of hurt that the younger man has kept him in the dark.
It’s even worse, that Jared actually knows that tone.
“Felt fine this morning,” he tries to protests, but the tremors coursing through his body belie his words.
Jensen leans over him and pulls the duvet out from under Jared’s feet. Jared remembers feeling too hot a while ago, which is why he kicked off the blanket, but he’s freezing now and welcomes the additional layer gratefully.
“So how do you feel - other than not good I suppose?”
“Miserable.” he adds, a defeated note creeping into his voice.
Jensen can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips. “Miserable how, Jared?”
“Headache, Sore throat … my head really hurts.”
“You’ve said that already,” he points out, still a little miffed, but the consolatory hand on Jared’s knee tells a different story.
“Body aches.”
“Last time I checked you’re head was still part of your body.”
Jared shoots him a look then and Jensen gets the hint.
“Right, I’m sorry. Did you take anything?”
Jared just shakes his head, preserving his words for the more challenging Wh-questions.
Then Jensen’s hand is gone, his comforting weight gone from the couch, and Jared sits up despite the increasing pain.
But a moment later, Jensen is there again, gently pushing him back down. "Lay down, Jay." He shakes the orange bottle he brought with him, tilts two pills into the palm of his hand, and holds them out to Jared.
„Tylenol,” he confirms, when Jared just stares at him.
The younger man waits a second, like he’s considering the idea, before he shakes his head ever so slightly. “Can’t take those.”
“Since when?”
„Hurts.”
Jensen’s look darkens, but he nods and puts the pills back on the coffee table behind him.
“Nyquil then?” he offers, already half-way off the couch and up the stairs.
“Really? It’s green.”Jared whines.
“You’re green! Come on, Jay. I’m sure you’ll manage a cup,” he teases just a little.
Jared figures it’s not worth arguing in his state, so he complies and waits for Jensen to get back.
“I mixed it with soda, so it’s not that bad, 'kay?” he hands him the half-full glass of poison green liquid. “Bottoms up!”
It hurts like a bitch going down, he can’t even concentrate on the disgusting taste, but it’s almost worth it, when Jensen drops a kiss onto his temple. “Good boy.”
He offers him a spoon next and Jared hesitates, eyeing the golden syrup, before he takes it with a smile.
“Honey, it’s good for your throat,” Jensen winks and ruffles his hair, when he gets up again.
With a spoonful of sugar … oh, he has sick Jared so figured out!
“I’m right here in the kitchen, if you need anything,” he whispers, and Jared lets himself be pushed down.
He doesn’t even notice, when the Nyquil claims him.
***
He wakes up to complete darkness outside.
Jensen is watching him from the armchair by the window. "How do you feel?"
Jared wants to answer, but his voice fails him, leaving him completely silent.
“Guess you’re not feeling any better then, huh?” Jensen says softly and leans forward, closing the small distance between them. "Just nod. Don’t try to talk, okay?"
Nod.
Jensen's eyes are full of worry, when he snakes his hand under Jared’s bangs. “You’re pretty warm. Fever’s definetely up. We’ll better check you’re temperature, you know, look where we’re at.”
Jared shifts a little uneasy. He’s never actually had his temperature taken by anyone but his momma, he thinks. Well, maybe by his pediatrician, but that was like decades ago. Literally.
He doesn’t get much more time to ponder, cause Jensen’s already back, holding the device in question in his hand.
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he laughs softly, when Jared continues to stare at him like a deer in the headlights.
“Come on, open up,“ Jensen advices, bracing him with a hand on his hip. He’s not forcing it, just waiting for Jared to respond.
Jared closes his lips around the glass stick, trying to fight the heat that’s rushing to his face - it’s a completely unavoidable response to the situation.
“Three minutes,” the blond explains and checks his watch.
And it really doesn't help that Jensen is gently rubbing at his hip bone now like he's a five year old. Although it does feel kind of nice. Having Jensen there. Care.
“M’Kay, that’s it,” he takes the thermometer from Jared’s lips and holds it against the light of the table lamp.
The gesture reminds Jared of his mum and oh boy, he’s so about to cry, overwhelmed by the display of love and affection. He's sick, so give him a break!
“Over 102, Jay-bird,” Jensen scrunches up his nose. “We’ll check again in a few hours, okay? See, if we can get it down a little.”
He shoots Jared a smile, and is taken aback by the tears that are filling his boyfriend’s eyes now.
“Hey babe, sshh, it’s okay,” he soothes. “You’re hurting?”
Nod. Technically, it’s not a lie.
"It’s been only two hours since you’re last dose. Think you can handle some Tylenol now?
He considers for a second, then another head shake.
“Yeah, I figured,” he nods, making some kind of explanatory movement towards his throat. "You want me to take you to the clinic? Let them check you out?”
Head shake.
„I can't stand seeing you in pain, you know that, right?”
Nod.
Jensen sighs.
It feels a bit too much like a déjà-vu to Jared. And quiet frankly, it doesn't help that Jensen is wearing one of Dean’s flannel shirts even though it’s his rare day off. He reaches up and catches the cotton between his fingers, tugging on it experimentally.
Here’s something Sam never gets to do.
“Hey, easy, babe,” Jensen laughs a little as Jared pulls hard, nearly knocking both of them to the ground. “I’m not going anywhere. Just let me get something for your head, okay? I’m back in a second.”
Jared's to slow to stop Jensen from prying open his fingers, but to Jensen's credit, it really doesn't take him much longer than a second and he returns with a washcloth and squeezes into the space between the backrest and Jared’s head.
Jared is too damn miserable to care what it looks like, when he almost climbs on top of his boyfriend, resting his head just above his heart.
Jensen settles back and holds the cold compress to Jared’s forehead, pressing a soft smile into his curly hair. With his free hand he runs his fingers over the blanket, tracing down the feature's of his boyfriend’s body and Jared moans in response.
“Oh and Jay, I called the dog sitter earlier. She’ll take the kids for a few days. Until you feel better, okay?”
Nod.
"I know you miss them," he replies automatically, like there's a voice in his head that's filling out the blanks now. "Want me to talk for a little bit?"
Nod - Jared can spent hours listening to the gentle baritone of Jensen's voice - talking on the phone, playing guitar or telling him tales of endless summers and the care-free ease of youth.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I got laryngitis in high school?”
Jared smiles against Jensen’s collarbone. ‘Did I ever tell you about the time ...’ - that’s how all of Jensen’s stories start.
“So I developed this real bad case of laryngitis like 3 months into my senior year. I remember Mac having some kind of slumber party for her birthday and one of her friend’s sneezed like all over me ... Mum even had to drive her home that night, the little Petri Dish … So the next day I felt like dying, man! I swear, full on plague!”
“This thing was really kicking my ass for a while. I’ve had over a 100 degree temperature for days, but I wouldn’t miss a single day of school. Playoffs were just around the corner and I had just gotten the lead in West Side Story.”
“God, things were crazy back then,” he smiles at his own memory.”
“And you know what happened next? Disaster. That’s right! I totally overdid it during the last game. Got all woozy in the locker room and we didn’t even get picked for playoffs. I’d pushed myself so hard that I ended up losing my voice completely and then I couldn’t talk for like three weeks. Dude, seriously. I’m not making that up; you can ask my mom next time she calls!”
“Or ask Mac. She’ll tell you, we would make a game of me not being able to speak by playing charades. Dude, it was hilarious.”
Jensen rarely varies his volume and so the longer the story goes, the more Jared drifts away.
“School really sucked, though. In class, I had to write down the answers to all the questions and then have someone say them for me... I even had to substitute some classes. Like for Social Studies, I had to write these crazy long essays on whatever debate subject we’d have this week. Oh, and for my drama assingment I did this great piece. No dialogue, just miming and actions to tell the story, you know… I think that’s when I knew I needed to give acting a try before I could even consider starting at Texas Tech," he pauses for a second, carrying that thought just a little further.
“Anyway, so baseball season had ended and all my focus lay on the musical now, but with my voice out of commission… I really wanted to do Tony, though. And of course, the girl that got Maria was like this state choir phenomenon. So for our first duett session all I could do was write on these pads, I believe she nearly flipped right then and there. But it was weird; somehow we got this deep connection after a while. And when I finally regained my voice and was able to sing again, Laurie practised with me 24/7 to help me catch up on all my parts .... and we made it happen... but I never really got back to my old vocal range,” he doesn't even notice that he clears his throat subconciously; it's like he's tracing his fingers along an old scar.
“Could have had that a lot easier, huh?” He chuckles a little. “I still talk to her on the phone sometimes, even visited her in New York once or twice. She graduated from NYADA a couple of years ago …,” he trails off and smiles when Jared’s eyes stay closed; his breath a constant sensation against Jensen’s chest.
“See, and that’s why I need you to let me take care of you,” he adds, before he leans down and kisses Jared’s temple, "... so you won't do the same stupid mistakes I did."
Jared shifts as Jensen takes the damp cloth away from him. He breathes deeply, content, and presses himself even closer against Jensen’s body. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Promise.”
"Sleep," he adds gently, it’s like a tantrum, and Jared lets himself drift off once again. Jensen will be there. He promised.
***
“Still not feeling better?”Jensen says around a yawn, when he wakes to Jared’s restless movements.
“A little,” he rasps, hoping he sounds convincing.
“Liar,” Jensen says fondly.
He snuggles back up behind Jared, throws his arm around him and covers them both with the ridicolous amount of blankets he'd accumulated some time during the night when they'd moved things to their bedroom.
“Too hot,” the younger man protests, already starting to wiggle his way out of the cocoon.
“Yeah, we should probably check your temperature again. Hang on a sec.” Jensen turns around and fumbles for the switch of his bedside lamb.
“Hold this for a minute.”
“M thu’rsty,” Jared mumbles around the glass thermometer.
“Hey, mouth shut, cheater!" he orders, but offers to get him some tea from downstairs.
When he gets back, Jared’s leaning against the head board, only a sheet wrapped around his legs. The rest of the blankets and comforters had to give way for the cool air to soothe Jared's twitchy nerves. Jensen smiles sympathetically as he crosses the room to perch on the edge of the bed.
“How m’ch longer?”
“A minute, Jared. Now stop talking.”
“’S been f’ve a‘ready,” he half whines, half protests.
“God, you’re unbelievable. Be quiet or I’ll put it somewhere else next time,” he mock-threatens. It has the desired effect though and Jensen can’t help chuckling as he looks into Jared’s widened puppy dog eyes.
“Alright, let’s put you out of your misery then,” he smiles, but it turns into a frown when he looks at the reading.
“ You’re fever’s worse again. I don’t think the Nyquil is helping," he reconsiders their options,"Guess it’s Tylenol then, hot stuff.”
Jared grimaces at the thought of swallowing the pills and his eyes narrow on the capsules in Jensen's palm.
But instead of handing them over to Jared, Jensen opens them both and dissolves the powdery contents in a glass of water.
“Sneaky, huh? Well, It's not just a pretty face, got some brains too," he grins and and signals Jared to drink up.
"Think we can go back to sleep now?"
“I’m not tired,” Jared huffs out in frustration.
“It’s like 4 AM, babe. Can we at least try and lay down? Please? I’m sure the pills will kick in soon.”
He hasn't gotten much sleep with Jared tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but tilting at windmills for the past few hours. His hand finds Jared’s waist, and the younger man moves closer towards the source of the touch, until he’s wrapped in Jensen’s arms.
“You okay?” the blond whispers against his ear. “Do you need anything?”
“Can you … uhm … tell me a story?” he asks sheepishly into the darkness.
And Jensen doesn’t even hesitate. “Did I ever tell you about the time I didn't sleep for four days straight?"
***
Thank you for reading.
I would be delighted, if you find the time to drop me a line.
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