Fever - Reece Shearsmith/Steve Pemberton
Title: Fever
Pairings: Reece/Steve
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2124
Summary: Reece falls very ill
AN: Hello again lovelies! As I post this, my lovely co-author is sitting in the Novello watching Reece in Betty Blue Eyes. Needless to say, jealousy is abundant here ;-) Anyway, today’s fic is set Highgate era, probably the most recent one that we’ve done. Moving closer to….well, something. This one has a lot of French in it, so translations are at the end. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Oh and the others can be found here or here :-)
Fever
By: Jess and Jodie
It’s that time of year when everyone seems to be ill all of the time. The weather’s been miserable for weeks, grey and windy and thunderstorms at three in the afternoon four days in a row that make Mark stare out of the window in some strange fascinated way. Some form of flu or virus has been going around but they’ve had nothing but sore throats and bad chests that cleared up within a couple of days, but not Reece.
Thing about Reece is, and everyone who knows him will say that when he gets ill, he gets ill. He’ll have a cold that lasts a week and leaves him so exhausted he’s falling asleep whilst standing in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. This time is certainly no better, namely because Reece never makes a fuss over it. He’ll slowly deteriorate without telling anyone, still get up and get dressed even though he can barely stay awake and he’ll still make four cups of tea in the morning if it’s his turn.
That’s why when he emerges from his room at almost midnight on a Thursday evening saying he doesn’t feel too good; they know it’s more serious than they thought. Steve had left a blackcurrant Lemsip on the table next to Reece’s bed a couple of hours ago, leaving him to sleep on top of the covers but wrapped in his parka.
Mark and Steve are watching TV when he pads into the living room, his coat open and sliding slightly off one shoulder but the hood up, the fur trim flattened where he’d been lying on it. He coughs pathetically and Steve looks up behind him to try and catch his line of vision. “You feeling better now?” He asks, his tone mildly concerned until he actually gets a good look at Reece’s face and sees how pale it is. “Fucking hell, Reece. You look a state.” Steve stands then, moving around the sofa to stand opposite him.
He reaches out and knocks the hood down before planting a cool palm on Reece’s burning forehead. Mark looks up from his chair mid-yawn, his brow furrowing as though he’d hardly realised Reece had entered the room. “Is he alright?”
“He’s boiling hot.” Steve tells him, frowning with unease before his voice softens and he tries to get Reece’s attention. “How long have you been like this?”
“I want tea.” Is all Reece replies with, his voice thick with fatigue and what Steve thinks is complete delirium. “I came in here to get tea. Stop fussing me.” Reece bats his hand at Steve weakly. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bloody not. You need more than tea, the looks of you.” Steve is holding onto his shoulders because he’s started involuntarily swaying slightly from side to side like he can’t even stand still. Steve takes one last uncertain look at him before setting his hands at his sides and turning to Mark. “You think we should…do something?”
“Do something?” Mark answers, his eyes glancing at Reece’s unsteady form before finally settling on Steve. He’s still sat in his chair, looking over at Steve as though he’s being completely overdramatic. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, drive him somewhere. He doesn’t look good at all.”
“Drive him somewhere? I don’t think a drive around the country is going to cure his illness, Steve. Jeremy’s got the car anyway.”
“I mean A and E, Mark. Not a fucking midnight drive around Highgate.”
“You take him to A and E and you’ll be sat there four hours just for them to give you what you could get in Boots. He’d probably get worse sat in that waiting room anyway, the diseases floating around that place are grotesque.”
“Well what do you suggest? He’s got a fever.”
“Because he’s wearing that bloody parka! Give him a couple of paracetamol, send him back to bed and we’ll go to the chemist in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be enough, Mark. Look at him, for God’s sake! He’s-” Steve breaks off his sentence when he sees Reece’s body go completely limp and he falls into Steve’s chest, his body completely lifeless. Steve manages to grab him before he hits the ground, his arms tight around Reece’s shoulder before he hauls him up. Steve hears Mark exclaim something along the lines of “Christ!” as he lifts Reece up into his arms and carries him round the sofa before dropping him down onto the cushions with more force than intended.
Mark’s stood at the opposite end of the sofa now, looking completely out of his depth as Steve is somehow able to pull off Reece’s parka and throw it over the chair. “Reece, are you there?” He says, his hand stroking quickly from Reece’s forehead down to the side of his face over and over as though it will wake him up. “Reece?”
The two of them unwillingly breathe a sigh of relief when he finally lets out a disgruntled sound without opening his eyes. “Fucking hell, Reece. You scared us then.”
“What?” He sounds completely delirious and Steve keeps touching his face without realising as though it’s somehow keeping him grounded. Reece has still got his eyes closed though, so the fact that he’s simply responding isn’t completely enough. His face his still desperately pale against the dark sofa cushions, and his raven hair is matted with sweat.
“Yeah.” Steve goes on, breath shaking with a sort of unnerve he wish wasn’t so obvious in his voice. “Mark was bricking it.”
Reece smiles a little then, coughing a little too and Steve still wills him to open his eyes. “I thought you were gonna knock me over. You want to wear a parachute next time you go flying like that.”
“Fuck off.” Steve laughs at his response, more out of relief than it actually being funny because at least he knows now that Reece isn’t on death’s door.
He turns to Mark then, who is still just staring at them and wringing his hands as though he’s just seen a man get shot. “Mark.” Steve snaps him out of it. “Ring Jeremy, tell him to bring the car round. He won’t answer if he’s driving, so let it ring out twice, put the phone down and do it again. He’ll answer second time round. There’s a twenty-pound note in the pasta jar next to the microwave and a fiver in the back over of that German cookbook on the shelf. Whilst you’re in there grab my keys and ask Jeremy to keep the engine running.”
Mark immediately does as he’s told, making his way into the kitchen having probably already forgotten half of what Steve had just said. When Steve looks back down at Reece, he’s finally got his eyes open, his pupils huge and dark against the pale blue and Steve thinks he at least looks a little bit better. “You told me you were skint.” Reece says it very quietly but Steve can still hear the humour in his voice.
“I have to keep something hidden from you, don’t I? I thought it would be safe in the kitchen, seen as all you can cook is toast and cereal.”
“I can do tea.” He tells him, still sounding completely exhausted. “Where are you going, Steve?”
“Me and Jeremy are going to get you some medicine.”
“Can’t Mark go?”
“Mark can’t drive, can he?”
“Jeremy’s driving.”
“Well, you know what them two are like. They’ll go in for medicine and come out with toothpaste. Laurel and bloody Hardy.”
“Don’t go, Steve.”
Steve’s smile drops then, and he leans down a bit closer to Reece’s face. “Eh? I’m only going down the shops. You make it sound like I’m leaving forever.”
“It feels like you are. Time’s going…it’s going really slowly, Steve. It’s like I’m underwater. You sound really far away. It feels like it’s raining indoors.”
“That’s because you’ve got a fever, darling.” He says the last bit without realising, as though he’d totally forgotten that Mark can probably hear what they’re saying even though he’s on the phone. Steve’s relieved when Reece carries on as if he hadn’t heard him either.
“No it’s not I’ve not got a fever Steve I’m fine I’m just tired you don’t have to go out I just need tea and my coat on where is my coat have you moved my coat?” He says it all in one breath and Steve is surprised that the quick succession of words didn’t make him pass out for a second time. He’s clearly working himself up over nothing, be it because of the exhaustion or the fever or that he hasn’t eaten properly for a few days, but Steve is worried nonetheless. He kneels down then, so that their faces at the same level and he can see him better.
“Reece. You have to calm down, alright? I’m going out to buy you some medicine, and I’m going to be back in half an hour, right?” He’s trying to talk as softly as he can, but he can tell that Reece is still worked up. He reaches out and touches his cheek again, still burning hot. “How long am I going to be?”
“Steve, I don’t want-”
“How long am I going to be?”
“Half an hour.”
“Mark’s going to get you a drink, and I’m-”
“I want tea.”
“Alright, he’ll get you tea.”
“Milky tea.”
“Milky tea, alright.”
“And you’ll only be half an hour?”
“Half an hour, I promise. Je vous promets.”
“D’accord.” Steve can tell he’s getting increasingly tired, his eyes heavy and so desperately wanting to close as he continues. “D’accord, je vous crois.”
“Il ne faut pas s’endormir, d’accord?”
Reece’s eyes are already closed when he answers, though. “Mmm. Je ne vais pas. Je ne vais pas.”
“Vous ne pouvez pas s’endormir jusqu’à ce que vous avez pris votre medicament. Reece. Reeson, avez-vous compris cela?”
“Oui, oui. Je ne vais pas à s’endormir. Je bois mon thé et vous serez de retour dans une demi-heure.” Steve almost cannot comprehend how much Reece’s French improves when he’s ill, and somewhere at the back of his mind he saves this information for another time.
“Yes.” Steve says. “That’s right. Open your eyes now, don’t fall asleep.”
“Non, non.” Reece answers, his voice still a deep and quiet groan. “Faites-le en français, Steve. J’aime le son de celui-ci en français.”
Steve sighs, running his hand over Reece’s face one more time before standing. “Vous serez la mort de moi, vous que?”
“Je sais.” Reece answers. “Savez-vous ce que je sais?”
“Quoi? Que savez-vous, Reece?”
“Je sais que Je t’aime. Je ne sais pas beaucoup, mais je sais que. Je pense c’est étrange. Pensez-vous, Steve?”
Steve pauses then for a moment; just looking down at him with his eyes closed as if he’d said something completely normal like he missed the bus this morning or he won a pound on the scratch card. He isn’t sure what to say, but before he can even recall why he’s finding it difficult to breathe, he sees Mark appear in the doorway, signalling in complete silence that Jeremy is in the car outside. Steve nods at him, albeit a delayed reaction and moves around the sofa so he can try and slip out of the front door without Reece noticing.
Reece’s voice carries on as though his last sentence didn’t even happen, but he still sounds as wistful as he did a few minutes ago. “Je suis à s’endormir. S’il vous plaît être de Rapide. Je Veux dormir.”
Steve is at the door when he replies, slipping into his coat and taking the twenty-five pound out of Mark’s hand but his voice is shaking slightly. “No. No dormir. Boire du thé. Une demi-heure.”
“29 minutes et 59 secondes.” Reece corrects him just as he’s leaving, and when Steve does return, it’s a whole five minutes early. He and Jeremy found the one shop open that sold something they thought would last Reece until morning, and when Steve comes back into the living room, Reece is sat up in his parka, his hand gripping a half drunk cup of milky tea and he’s fast asleep. He sighs and looks over at Mark who shrugs and lets out an honest, “I tried,” which in all realty is good enough for Steve.
He knows he has to wake up him, talk to him in French and convince him to take medicine he doesn’t want to, and then pretend that he can’t remember anything that’s been said, but for once Steve thinks the struggle will be more satisfying than the end result. Until the next time he’s deathly ill, anyway.
Je vous promets. - I promise you
D’accord, je vous crois. - Okay, I believe you
Il ne faut pas s’endormir, d’accord? - Don’t fall asleep, okay?
Mmm. Je ne vais pas. Je ne vais pas. - I won’t. I won’t.
Vous ne pouvez pas s’endormir jusqu’à ce que vous avez pris votre medicament. Reece.
Reeson, avez-vous compris cela? - You can’t fall asleep until you’ve taken your medicine. Reece. Reeson. Did you understand that?
Oui, oui. Je ne vais pas à s’endormir. Je bois mon thé et vous serez de retour dans une demi-heure. - Yes. Yes. I’m not going to sleep. I drink my tea and you’ll be back in half an hour
Faites-le en français, Steve. J’aime le son de celui-ci en français. - No, no. Do it in French, Steve. I like the sound of it in French
Vous serez la mort de moi, vous que? - You will be the death of me, you know that?
Savez-vous ce que je sais? - I know. Do you know what else I know?
Quoi? Que savez-vous, Reece? - What? What do you know, Reece?
Je sais que Je t’aime. Je ne sais pas beaucoup, mais je sais que. Je pense c’est étrange. Pensez-vous, Steve? - I know that I love you. I don’t know much, but I know that. That’s strange, isn’t it Steve?
Je suis à s’endormir. S’il vous plaît être de Rapide. Je Veux dormir. - I’m falling asleep. Please be quick. I want to sleep.
No. No dormir. Boire du thé. Une demi-heure. - No. No sleep. Drink tea. Half and hour